Page 114 of Wicked Witch of the Wolf

“You’ve twisted the comforter.” I wrenched the balled-up section out from under him. It moved a literal inch until he got up and let mepull more. “Human Ronan is a cover hog, too. At least, you were the one time we slept together.”

I slid under the sheets and let out a sigh from the depths of my soul. My body practically melted into the comfortable mattress.

Ronan resettled, resting his head on my upper thigh.

“We should’ve made love that night. I think we didn’t because we’re both so hellbent on creating this perfect moment, but our lives don’t lend themselves to perfect circumstances. If we keep waiting for the right time, we’ll be ten years into retirement before we get to second base.”

The wolf made a low growly sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“You understand way more in that form than you let on sometimes.” I rolled over, pulled the covers up to my shoulder, and immediately fell asleep.

“Betty? Are you okay?”

I jerked up in the bed with a gasp. The bedroom door was shut, blinds were drawn tight, and music was playing—“Suddenly” by Olivia Newton John and Cliff Richard.

Someone was in my room.

Male. Close.

The light dusting of thyme soil on my fingertips blazed to life. I grabbed the hand reaching for me.

“Ouch! Put your fingers out, they sting.” He blew on his fingertips. “It’s like touching the wrong side of a July Fourth sparkler.”

“Ronan?” I let go of him, willed my magic to die down. “You’re back.”

“Yep. Cleaned up and human.” He lounged on the pillow beside mine, those hazel eyes sparkling, a slow grin moving over his lips. His hair was shower-damp, and there was a relieved, yet haunted look in his eyes. “The wolf finally let me shift.”

“He can do that? Keep you from shifting back to human?”

“The easy answer to that is no, but it’s not quite that simple. If he thinks I’m in danger, he can refuse to let go. I couldfight him, but most shifters would only do something like that if it was a life-or-death situation, and they’d probably be in animal form anyway.” He studied his fingers.

“He felt you were in danger?”

“More like he felt I needed more recovery time. Good call on his part.” He held up his hand; the burn marks I’d left had already healed. “Plus, he wanted to protect you and didn’t trust my strength.”

I flopped back down on my pillow, facing him. “He kept me warm last night.”

“It’s his specialty. You can imagine how fun it is to run around in that fur coat during a hundred-fifteen-degree Smokethorn summer.”

“Maybe you guys should get a crew cut.”

He laughed and took my hand again, this time weaving his fingers through mine. “Can you imagine? He’d probably gnaw our paw off if I picked up a pair of clippers. He’s very proud of his fur.”

“He should be. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied, a little too fast. He tried to smile but didn’t quite make it. “Damn, Betty. What you did for me … I don’t know what to say. How can I thank you for saving my life?”

I snuggled closer. “Pay my bill at El Rancho Grande?”

He ran the edge of our entwined hands down the side of my face. “Doesn’t seem like enough.”

“You haven’t seen my tab.”

“Still doesn’t seem like enough for what you did for— Hang on a sec. You have atabgoing at the taco shop?”

“I really like their tacos.”

He scowled. “So do I, but they don’t let me run a damned tab.”

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