Page 9 of The Forbidden Wolf

Could be bald on top.

“Why?” I asked, forcing strength into my tone. “I am trespassing.”

“I’m aware.” His head snapped to the side, and something in my core tightened at the sight of his exquisite profile. He looked like… okay, this is going to sound so random, and maybe it was just the old-fashioned cap, but he honestly reminded me of Jack’s sidekick in Titanic, who anyone with eyes should know was actually the hotter of the pair. Which is not to say that I hadn’t spent six months of my teenage life pining for beautiful Leo, but I was older now, my tastes had matured, and if I had my pick of which of them to watch mate with Kate Winslet in the back of that—

Easy girl.

Slowly, the Beta turned to face me. His black jacket hung open over a plain white T-shirt that hinted at the muscles rippling underneath without giving too much away. His full lips were framed by a coarse sheen of stubble so perfect it must have been re-applied by an award-winning team of makeup artists every few hours. He studied me with golden-brown eyes that seemed well-versed in contemplating the mysteries of the universe. Oh, and he had gold wire-framed glasses.

So, just to clarify, he actually made me think of what it might be like if the guy who played Fabrizio were playing Indiana Jones and had shown up for this scene wearing half of his Indy costume and half of his Professor Jones costume, only he’d gotten the Indy outfit confused with Johnny Depp’s greaser get-up from Cry-Baby.

In other words, I loved him.

No. Absolutely not.

I didn’t even bother telling her to shut up. I didn’t have time. The Beta crossed the distance between us in two easy strides, offering his hand. I didn’t need it. I shouldn’t let him think I needed it. But this might be the only chance I ever had to touch a male I would have gone home with for purely aesthetic reasons if we had met in a bar or something. So I held out my hand like some sort of dainty cartoon princess and let him pull me to my feet as easily as if I were a piece of paper with a picture of a dainty cartoon princess on it.

I’m going to throw up.

And then eat it.

So I can throw up again.

Our clasped hands hovered between us, sending waves of warmth up my entire arm. His soulful eyes searched every inch of my face, which was unfortunately quite fair in complexion so there was no way he missed the blush spreading across my cheeks. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and took an abrupt step back, dropping my hand. It floated in the air like a bereft ghost for one humiliating moment before it occurred to me to run it through the hair above my ear and then down the side of my neck.

The Beta’s jaw flexed with a soft little grunt. He cleared his throat, eyes suddenly darting all around the empty chamber. Butterflies swarmed in my belly; I felt like I had been transported to one of those mythical movie proms and the bad boy with a heart of gold was about to ask me to dance.

And then my suitor’s anxious gaze came to rest squarely on my breasts. Just like every other asshole in Manhattan. The meet-cute music in my head screeched to a halt, and I quickly drew my jacket shut.

“Same,” he said softly, eyes jumping back to mine. “Until recently.”

“What? Oh. Right.” I let the jacket fall open again and tugged my T-shirt out in front of me as if he’d asked to see it better. “I think I’m going to need a new one after tonight. This information is no longer accurate.”

An impish smile played across the Beta’s lips. “Five stars for you too?”

I guffawed. Truly. That was the sound I made. It wiped the smirk right off his face.

“Um, no, this has definitely been a zero-star night.” I twisted my hip so he could see the stain on my jeans. “That’s not mine, by the way. I wasn’t that afraid. I wasn’t afraid at all, actually, I totally could have handled that, but thanks for… everything. And I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have been—”

While I blabbered on, he craned his neck to check out my soiled jeans, and my blush deepened when I suddenly realized I’d basically just asked him to look at my ass. I shut my trap and swiveled my hips to end the peep show. He straightened his neck and looked me in the eye with unabashed desire. But not like those other dogs. Not like he wanted to take something from me. Like he was in possession of a gift he urgently needed to give me.

Flustered, I took two steps back because I didn’t have enough experience in this arena to know if that vibe was chivalrous or narcissistic. And because it didn’t matter. Being female, I was expected to mate for life, and I couldn’t see my father allowing both his daughters to mate with Manhattan shifters. This was meant to be an alliance not a takeover. He would want to keep my portion of the family line firmly rooted in the Bronx. This might not be a fatal attraction, but it was still a dead end street.

I shoved my hands awkwardly into my jacket pockets and looked away. My gaze landed on the other stupidly hot guy in the room, the one wearing only a pair of shredded boxer shorts. My new friend’s wolf growled through his human mouth, which he quickly tried to disguise as a cough. I glared at him anyway. He patted his fist against his lips, still clearing his throat, and then pointed at the blood red graffiti: KEEP U.S. HUMAN.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, they’ll do anything to market that crap.”

The male frowned. “That’s not—you don’t have this problem in the Bronx?”

“Ads for this show everywhere we look?” I rolled my eyes. Of course.”

He shook his head, jaw flexing angrily. “Those words aren’t part of the ad. They’re part of the movement.”

“Huh?” I scrunched up my nose. “What movement?”

He snorted and jerked his chin at the graffiti. “To get rid of us.”

“Get rid of us?” I gulped, head snapping toward those blood-red words, and for a split second, I imagined Jayla shaking up a can and spraying them there. But that was absurd. She would never deface her future husband. I looked back at the real shifter male standing right in front of me and asked, “Why? We’re not bothering anyone! Most people don’t even think we exist!”

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