to the bed. “I’m never buying Egyptian cotton sheets again.”
“Please,” she breathed. They both knew she wasn’t asking for sheets.
Chapter Eight
Greta’s eyes shot open. Her heart palpitated wildly, thrumming through her chest. Blood pounded in her ears. Dayne’s arm was slung over her hip, hugging her naked body loosely against him. Why hadn’t she shifted? She’d had the dream again, this time more vivid than before. Yet, despite her fear, she’d held onto her human form.
She wanted to stay wrapped in his warmth forever, but she forced herself to move. He was the face of her death; there were no doubts now. Getting the same dream twice wasn’t something she could ignore. It was prophetic.
Dayne was the one holding the ritual knife that spilled her blood. She twisted and shimmied out from under him. His arm fell with a sharp oomph much louder than it should have been. Was her hearing getting better?
He rolled to his other side with a grunt, and Greta eased out of the bed. She grabbed her duffel bag from the corner, and made her way to the kitchen for her pills.
She didn’t need crazy lust while trying to survive. It had already inconvenienced her twice. Now her heart hurt to leave the man she kept finding herself in bed with. Stupid heat cycle. Her body and heart were convinced he was the guy for her, but her brain knew better
She felt a pang of regret at breaking her agreement, then her brain kicked back in as she remembered his plan had been to get her blood at the full moon. And to kill her doing it. No, she didn’t feel bad leaving. Besides, she’d slept with him. To men of Dayne’s reputation that was probably considered payment in full.
She wondered how he’d struck the deal with her tribe. Jaden wouldn’t send her to a sorcerer if she cared about her. Duh, Greta. And the story he’d concocted about Jaden betraying him? Way to shine the light away. Gullible. It wasn’t a lesson she’d be forgetting anytime soon. Assuming she survived her birth moon.
She crept to the kitchen, wincing when the hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet. She stopped and held her breath as she waited to see if it would wake him. The house remained silent with only the ticking of the clock over the fireplace mantle breaking the stillness.
“Mrarrr.”
She jumped as Mink padded in, weaving her body between Greta’s legs. “Shhh! Do you want him to wake up and come in here?”
“Mrarrr?”
Greta smiled sadly down at the orange tabby. She’d have to leave Mink behind. Covert ops were clearly lost on the talkative cat.
She rummaged in the fridge until she found a slice of ham and dropped it on the floor, hoping it would shut the cat up. She poured herself a glass of water, gulped down a pill, then slipped the bottle into her pocket and took one last look around.
Tears teased the corners of her eyes. She wished Dayne hadn’t turned out to be evil. She could have imagined living here with him in his quiet cottage in the woods. It felt comfortable, like home.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Her hand had been on the knob. So close. “Nowhere. Outside for some air.”
“The garden is protected; the front stoop is not. You know it’s not safe out there.”
She turned toward him, and her mouth went dry. He was dressed in navy silk lounging pants and no shirt. He had the kind of body college students sketched in art classes everywhere. So warm and beautiful. And he and Greta fit together perfectly, in the carnal way. She wanted to run into his arms. Her knowledge of his betrayal wasn’t enough for a body that still trusted him.
“It’s not safe in here either,” she said after a beat.
Dayne incanted something in Latin, and Greta felt the magic swirl up as the deadbolt turned. She pressed herself against the door as if somehow it would bend to her will and unlock. This was normally when she shifted. The edges of wildness intruded on her senses, but even stronger was her own will pressing
“Please,” she breathed. They both knew she wasn’t asking for sheets.
Chapter Eight
Greta’s eyes shot open. Her heart palpitated wildly, thrumming through her chest. Blood pounded in her ears. Dayne’s arm was slung over her hip, hugging her naked body loosely against him. Why hadn’t she shifted? She’d had the dream again, this time more vivid than before. Yet, despite her fear, she’d held onto her human form.
She wanted to stay wrapped in his warmth forever, but she forced herself to move. He was the face of her death; there were no doubts now. Getting the same dream twice wasn’t something she could ignore. It was prophetic.
Dayne was the one holding the ritual knife that spilled her blood. She twisted and shimmied out from under him. His arm fell with a sharp oomph much louder than it should have been. Was her hearing getting better?
He rolled to his other side with a grunt, and Greta eased out of the bed. She grabbed her duffel bag from the corner, and made her way to the kitchen for her pills.
She didn’t need crazy lust while trying to survive. It had already inconvenienced her twice. Now her heart hurt to leave the man she kept finding herself in bed with. Stupid heat cycle. Her body and heart were convinced he was the guy for her, but her brain knew better
She felt a pang of regret at breaking her agreement, then her brain kicked back in as she remembered his plan had been to get her blood at the full moon. And to kill her doing it. No, she didn’t feel bad leaving. Besides, she’d slept with him. To men of Dayne’s reputation that was probably considered payment in full.
She wondered how he’d struck the deal with her tribe. Jaden wouldn’t send her to a sorcerer if she cared about her. Duh, Greta. And the story he’d concocted about Jaden betraying him? Way to shine the light away. Gullible. It wasn’t a lesson she’d be forgetting anytime soon. Assuming she survived her birth moon.
She crept to the kitchen, wincing when the hardwood floor creaked beneath her feet. She stopped and held her breath as she waited to see if it would wake him. The house remained silent with only the ticking of the clock over the fireplace mantle breaking the stillness.
“Mrarrr.”
She jumped as Mink padded in, weaving her body between Greta’s legs. “Shhh! Do you want him to wake up and come in here?”
“Mrarrr?”
Greta smiled sadly down at the orange tabby. She’d have to leave Mink behind. Covert ops were clearly lost on the talkative cat.
She rummaged in the fridge until she found a slice of ham and dropped it on the floor, hoping it would shut the cat up. She poured herself a glass of water, gulped down a pill, then slipped the bottle into her pocket and took one last look around.
Tears teased the corners of her eyes. She wished Dayne hadn’t turned out to be evil. She could have imagined living here with him in his quiet cottage in the woods. It felt comfortable, like home.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Her hand had been on the knob. So close. “Nowhere. Outside for some air.”
“The garden is protected; the front stoop is not. You know it’s not safe out there.”
She turned toward him, and her mouth went dry. He was dressed in navy silk lounging pants and no shirt. He had the kind of body college students sketched in art classes everywhere. So warm and beautiful. And he and Greta fit together perfectly, in the carnal way. She wanted to run into his arms. Her knowledge of his betrayal wasn’t enough for a body that still trusted him.
“It’s not safe in here either,” she said after a beat.
Dayne incanted something in Latin, and Greta felt the magic swirl up as the deadbolt turned. She pressed herself against the door as if somehow it would bend to her will and unlock. This was normally when she shifted. The edges of wildness intruded on her senses, but even stronger was her own will pressing
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