Page 11 of A Velvet Kiss After Dark

A flush stole across his features as he struggled to get his lust for her under control. Luckily for him, she had no idea the effect she had on him. Her human senses were nothing compared to his. If she but knew a touch of what she did to him… he'd be in deep trouble.

The hours of fantasies he'd had about her. Them entangled, skin to skin. Buried deep with in her, hearing her soft moans in his ear. His mouth nipping her ass, clenching those sweet breasts and suckling them 'till they bruised.

Ahem. A masculine throat cleared.

If only she had any idea what he thought about her . . . She'd never allow him near her again.

She crossed her arms and cocked a hip. "You're not a dog, and I'm not a little girl. Deal?" Either completely oblivious to the danger he presented, or completely uncaring. Her body language clearly showed she was not budging on this.

One by one his eyebrows rose, matched by a defensive gesture with his hands. "All right. I get it. Deal." He painfully rearranged his swollen manhood. Not looking forward to trying to sleep with blue balls.

She scrubbed a hand over her face. "I'm tired. I need to go to bed." And get away from you. The rest of her sentence remained unspoken, but he'd caught the gist of it.

His jaw clenched for some reason, ire spiked. What she said insulted him.

"By all means." His jaw unclenched very slowly. His desire for her still hadn't abated. "I'll be on the hard wood floor guarding my wallet." And counting backwards from a million to rid himself of his cock-stand.

A ghost of a smile sneaked around her mouth and his chest swelled with pleasure. For some reason it made him feel good making her laugh. Even though she hid it.

This was another unusual thing about the human female. Something about her was different. He didn't yet know what exactly. But he planned to find out.

Or maybe it wasn't her who was different. It was him! He felt different around her. And he didn't know why.

As he hunkered down to sleep, he heard the bedroom door shut. Then the sound of a chair being dragged against the door. Did she barricade herself in there out of fear from him? Irritation flared again. Silly female. As if he'd hurt her.

As if he could.

It was his gut's response that kept him circling around Tabitha like a vulture to a dead carcass. He just wanted to take a bite out of her. At the thought, a vision of her all-too full lips popped into his mind. He groaned, flinging one arm across his eyes to block out the thought. Before sleep claimed him he shifted to his Beast form and dreamed of cages and blood. Only it was just him sitting in those cages, Tabitha was right next to him.

2

Early the next morning, Kane awoke to the smell of fried pork sizzling in a scorching frying pan. Bread in a toaster popped up a few moments later. His stomach growled at the aromas of meat and carbs. Must ingest calories that delicious as soon as possible.

The sight of the little hum—err, Tabitha cooking in the kitchen wasn't unsatisfactory either. The sight of her

There was something about her that enticed him. Something carnal. Primitive. From the moment he'd first scented her, he'd known . . . .

Known what, though?

That lingering question rattled his brain. It had been lurking in his subconscious for some time. Probably from the first moment he met her. At the banquet gala filled with a bunch of elite rich supernaturals who liked to dress up in ball gowns and tuxedos. He snorted. So not his thing. He was more of a balls-free kind of guy. He'd rather be skin-free to the breeze with nothing more than a black tank, some trunks and a boots on than anything else.

It was time to get answers to his questions. Hopefully his alpha would have some much-needed info. He'd drop by just as soon as he got a bite of that bacon….

Sitting upright, careful of the gaping hole in his side, Kane could already feel the wound had completely healed. The skin had grown back, albeit it a bit pinker than usual. It took a lot to kill a werewolf. A beheading, a severe blood letting and various forms of extreme violence or extremely rare diseases would do it. He wasn't imperious to death. No one was. Especially not him, who had a list a league wide of enemies who wanted his head on a platter.

Taking his time stretching, he rolled to a stand. He had to admit, he was impressed with the feast she'd laid out. And very, very hungry.

A stack of pancakes teetered precariously on a plate. Next to it was a dish of fresh butter, hot syrup, a carafe of coffee, sugar, milk. Two glasses of orange juice and she'd just set down a plate with a good pound of cooked bacon when she turned to him with a start.

Jumping, she yelped then sagged against the refrigerator door. "I never heard you wake up."

"I guess I'm quiet in the morning."

Her gaze briefly flickered over his naked torso before skittering away. What had been that look in her eyes? Desire? He was suddenly glad he'd left his shirt off.

She snatched the toast, then as if remembering, grabbed two different jars of jam from the fridge and set it all on the table.

Finally, she looked at him and pointed to an empty chair. "Sit down. It's time to eat."

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