Page 30 of Feral

“Yes, of course,” and then softer, “that should’ve been obvious.”

“Damn it, lass, I’m sorry.”

She set her shoulders, and looked me in the eye. A moment ago, her smile had been relaxed, genuine and flat out gorgeous. Now it was tight, forced, as if she were trying to keep it together. The sight made guilt slice into me and I wished I could take back what I’d callously said.

“Thank you, Mr. MacDonald. I’ll be done here in a moment and then we can proceed. I assure you that I don’t want to all of this to take any longer than it has to either. Now, if you’ll give me a few minutes to finish my meal, we can do what you came here for.”

She gave me a curt nod and took a deliberate bite of her fish.

I’d wanted to make a safe distance between us, to make sure that whatever was happening to my primal side wouldn’t spill over into this mission. And, I’d succeeded. Daphne was now quite closed off, but she was also hurt by my actions, and the urge to sooth her was so strong that I had to clench my jaw to keep the words from coming out.

Instead, I said, “I can do that.” I threw down some money for the meal and muttered something about needing some air before leaving her at the table.

Chapter Seven

Daphne

Itriednottobe nervous as Fraser escorted me back to my apartment, but that was futile.

The fish and chips churned in my stomach as we climbed the stairs to my apartment in silence. It wasn’t just the way dinner had ended that had my hands turning clammy. It was the knowledge that in a few minutes, Fraser would be showing me his true form and biting my neck. It was a terribly intimate thing to happen between two strangers and I wished that I’d insisted on knowing a little more about Fraser at dinner rather than get my knickers in a twist over his obvious dislike for the situation.

Now I was facing something that I had very little knowledge about, and didn’t know what to expect or brace for. The database had shockingly little about the mating bite. What I did find only confirmed that it was kept a secret among the clans, rarely if ever shared with outsiders and often times the culmination of a hand binding ceremony.

Nothing about the effects or why it was even necessary, other than the obvious marking a mate with the scent of another.

It doesn’t matter. With any luck I’ll only have it for a few days before I find the artifact and Fraser can growl and glare at someone else.

“Do you need anything in particular before we get started?” I asked, unlocking the door and turning on a small lamp by the door.

“Naw,” he said, his voice gruff and firm.

I nodded.

“Well, I don’t especially want bite marks on one of my favorite shirts, so if you’ll excuse me, I want to change.”

Before he could answer I spun on my heel and went into my room, shutting the door firmly. I’d told him the truth, but I also needed a moment. Seeing Fraser standing in my apartment, his handsome glower firmly in place, his hulking frame taking up all the air in the room, well, it affected me more than I thought possible.

I took a shaky breath as I changed into a T-shirt and pair of soft pink sweat pants. Honestly, it was the least sexy thing I owned and usually the outfit I wore during my monthly cycle, which was known for its stomach splitting cramps. But it was also the T-shirt that would give Fraser room to bite me without getting a mouthful of cotton in the process since the neck was well stretched out, exposing some of my shoulder as well as my neck.

A glimpse in the mirror had me gasping in horror at the tangled mess of my hair, currently falling half out of the braid. I quickly took it out, brushed it and rebraided it to the side so Fraser wouldn’t have to worry about it.

“Alright, then,” I said to myself, “you are a professional. And this is part of the job. It’s nothing. A small bite and then tomorrow off to Dublin for a few days. You can do this.”

A deep breath.

A nod to myself.

And I opened the door before the nerves and eroticism of what lay ahead could make me more of a basket case.

My apartment was quite small, with a bathroom at the end of the hall, my bedroom across from the small galley kitchen, the dining room more of a nook and the living room to the right of the front door. But the view was wonderful on sunny London days, which wasn’t very often. I stepped out of my room, turned toward the living room and stopped short.

Fraser was standing with his back to me, the low light casting shadows across his face as he thumbed through one of my favorite books. I must’ve left it on the side table between my small couch and the door during one of my re-reads. I couldn’t help it, I stopped and studied him. He’d been so tense from the first moment of our meeting that I didn’t think the man knew how to relax. But he had almost peaceful curiosity about him now as he looked through the book, which appeared very small between his huge hands. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing forearms covered in dark hair and corded with muscle that flexed as he turned the pages.

“You can borrow it if you’d like,” I whispered, not wanting him to turn around and find me staring at him.

Fraser jumped and the book clattered to the floor. He scrambled to pick it up, giving me a rather good look at his ass in those jeans.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he said, plopping it back onto the table by the couch.

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