need, but I won’t give in. I won’t tell him about my parents. He has enough power over me already without knowing that. Instead, I retort, “Why did you chase me?”
He pulls away from my neck, and, grasping my soft arms with both his hands, he brings me to arm’s length so he can look at me. As he does, a strange sadness fills his eyes, as if we are the only two people left at the end of the world. “Why do I choose to turn into a wolf on the full moon?” He lowers his chin, thinking, as if the question isn’t just a rhetorical one, then he says, with absolute firmness, “Because I am a hunter.”
“I’m not your mate.”
With a single fast but surprisingly gentle movement he folds me back into his embrace. He doesn’t have to push or force. Not when it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to lick each inch of his muscle-wrought body.
“If you’re not my mate, then why haven’t you screamed?” His hands cup my waist, standing us both up while not offering me a chance to break free. It’s like he’s molding my body to his, my flesh as malleable as clay. I still.
Finally, he loosens his grip, confident that I’m captured, but he still doesn’t let me go. “Why haven’t you taken out your cell phone and called the police?” With one leg he parts my thighs. “Why does your body respond to me?” He presses his leg up against my vagina, and I know that he can feel how frictionless my jeans and underwear are against my crotch. The wetness there isn’t just from the rain.
Against my own will, I give a needy moan.
He pauses. “I think it’s because I own this soft, curvy body of yours, Artemis. Isn’t it?”
I have no words that will deny him, so all I can do is push against his chest with my hand. I don’t care if it makes him grip me harder or if he likes the fight. I just have to do something.
He lets me go.
I stagger for a moment, the loss of sensation hitting me hard.
He leaves his hands up, beckoning me back to his embrace.
But I don’t go. Instead I hug my arms to my chest and search the surrounding alleyway for an escape route. I wonder if he will let me go if I run?
He ignores me. He’s probably confident that he could catch me no matter which way I choose to run. “It’s been hard to track you, you know,” he says casually. “It’s almost like you didn’t want to be found.” He gives me a meaningful look, as though I’m a misbehaving child. “Imagine that.”
“I didn’t. I mean I don’t.” Maybe if I dive behind the trash cans.
“You sound a little confused.” So confident is Orion that he strolls over to a nearby telephone pole and lounges against it. It’s amazing that he could make something as simple as walking beautiful, like watching a Ferrari doing twenty on a city street. Every movement he makes holds the promise of speed and deadly force.
“I’m really not.” I take a step back off of the graveled road and onto the dirt siding near someone’s alley garden.
He doesn’t pursue me, but actually relaxes his posture, softening only slightly. “All right, I’ll play with you for a moment. Let’s say that you’re not confused. That you’re wearing your charming chili perfume not to arouse my curiosity, but to try and hide from me.” The arrogance is coming off of him in waves now, a force almost as thick and palpable as the mist left over from the rain. “That you’ve been running all this time, pretending to be a little fish, not because you’ve been trying to entertain me, but because you actually don’t want to be my mate. It’s a little far-fetched, but I’ll bite.” He flashes a glimpse of his canines. “If you tell me why.”
“You’re not my type.” My hands tremble at my sides. I should run, but I’m afraid if he catches me a second time, he’ll never let go. I’m afraid I won’t want him to.
“See, there’s the rub.” He pushes off from the telephone pole, stepping toward me. He walks so lightly for being so
He pulls away from my neck, and, grasping my soft arms with both his hands, he brings me to arm’s length so he can look at me. As he does, a strange sadness fills his eyes, as if we are the only two people left at the end of the world. “Why do I choose to turn into a wolf on the full moon?” He lowers his chin, thinking, as if the question isn’t just a rhetorical one, then he says, with absolute firmness, “Because I am a hunter.”
“I’m not your mate.”
With a single fast but surprisingly gentle movement he folds me back into his embrace. He doesn’t have to push or force. Not when it’s taking every ounce of my willpower not to lick each inch of his muscle-wrought body.
“If you’re not my mate, then why haven’t you screamed?” His hands cup my waist, standing us both up while not offering me a chance to break free. It’s like he’s molding my body to his, my flesh as malleable as clay. I still.
Finally, he loosens his grip, confident that I’m captured, but he still doesn’t let me go. “Why haven’t you taken out your cell phone and called the police?” With one leg he parts my thighs. “Why does your body respond to me?” He presses his leg up against my vagina, and I know that he can feel how frictionless my jeans and underwear are against my crotch. The wetness there isn’t just from the rain.
Against my own will, I give a needy moan.
He pauses. “I think it’s because I own this soft, curvy body of yours, Artemis. Isn’t it?”
I have no words that will deny him, so all I can do is push against his chest with my hand. I don’t care if it makes him grip me harder or if he likes the fight. I just have to do something.
He lets me go.
I stagger for a moment, the loss of sensation hitting me hard.
He leaves his hands up, beckoning me back to his embrace.
But I don’t go. Instead I hug my arms to my chest and search the surrounding alleyway for an escape route. I wonder if he will let me go if I run?
He ignores me. He’s probably confident that he could catch me no matter which way I choose to run. “It’s been hard to track you, you know,” he says casually. “It’s almost like you didn’t want to be found.” He gives me a meaningful look, as though I’m a misbehaving child. “Imagine that.”
“I didn’t. I mean I don’t.” Maybe if I dive behind the trash cans.
“You sound a little confused.” So confident is Orion that he strolls over to a nearby telephone pole and lounges against it. It’s amazing that he could make something as simple as walking beautiful, like watching a Ferrari doing twenty on a city street. Every movement he makes holds the promise of speed and deadly force.
“I’m really not.” I take a step back off of the graveled road and onto the dirt siding near someone’s alley garden.
He doesn’t pursue me, but actually relaxes his posture, softening only slightly. “All right, I’ll play with you for a moment. Let’s say that you’re not confused. That you’re wearing your charming chili perfume not to arouse my curiosity, but to try and hide from me.” The arrogance is coming off of him in waves now, a force almost as thick and palpable as the mist left over from the rain. “That you’ve been running all this time, pretending to be a little fish, not because you’ve been trying to entertain me, but because you actually don’t want to be my mate. It’s a little far-fetched, but I’ll bite.” He flashes a glimpse of his canines. “If you tell me why.”
“You’re not my type.” My hands tremble at my sides. I should run, but I’m afraid if he catches me a second time, he’ll never let go. I’m afraid I won’t want him to.
“See, there’s the rub.” He pushes off from the telephone pole, stepping toward me. He walks so lightly for being so
Similar Books
