Page 16 of Howl for Me
“Oh, sweetie,” she says, voice sugar-slicked and lethal. “You wish I’d run. But lucky you, I’m stuck here housebreaking the overgrown puppy who still hasn’t figured out how to follow basic instructions.”
She folds her arms across her chest, gaze sweeping down my front like she’s inspecting a problem.
“You done admiring yourself? Or do I need to get you a treat and a clicker so we can move this obedience training along?”
Naomi chokes on her laughter, wheezing. “Oh my God, I like her. Johnny, baby, I don’t know. You might be outmatched here.”
I glare at them both, jaw tight. Cassidy’s still staring at me, arms crossed, completely unfazed.
She’s not backing down and I hate how much I like that.
The stare-off breaks when the door swings open behind us. Red hair, a tight dress and heels announcing her entry follows.
Stacy.
I’ve filmed with her before and more than once. She’s the type who makes a scene just by walking in. Her eyes lock on me immediately, raking down my body like she’s flashing through every memory of my cock being inside of her.
She barely glances at Cassidy before heading straight to Naomi, arms wide, fake-cheerful. “Naomi, babe!” she sings, pulling her in for a hug like they’re old friends instead of coworkers who talk shit the second the cameras stop rolling.
Cassidy’s silence is subtle, but I feel it like static in the room. She shifts her weight, arms still crossed, but her jaw tightens. Her eyes flick toward Stacy, down her body, then back up. She’s taking in everything, every polished curve and glossy bit of perfection, and I see it.
The moment she starts to compare herself.
And the moment she decides she doesn’t measure up. It hits me in the chest like a punch I didn’t brace for. Because she has no goddamn clue.
If I had any say in this, I’d be bedding her today. Cassidy, with her fire and her mouth and that fucking scent that’s driving me half out of my mind. Stacy’s fine; pretty and professional. But she’s here to get railed by a monster for a paycheck and go home like it never happened. No heat behind her eyes. No bite. Just skin and habit.
Cassidy, though… she’s something else.
And I hate she doesn’t see it.
“Let’s go,” I say, sharper than I mean to, already heading for the door.
Cassidy glances at me, hesitates for half a beat, then follows.
Stacy’s voice trails after us like perfume and cigarette smoke. “See you on set, Johnny.”
I don’t respond.
She’s one of the humans who doesn’t care about whether you’re a shifter, a human, something in between? Doesn’t matter. She just wants to be fucked by a beast and collect her paycheck and go home. She’s asked me to take her out once or twice. I said no. I always keep my distance. No dating, no strings, none of the mess that comes with getting too close. That’s the rule. But now I’m walking beside Cassidy, the woman who looks at me like she’s torn between stabbing me and trying to figure me out, with a tight ache in my chest and a question I don’t want to answer:
What the fuck am I doing?
I need this shoot to go well. A nice, full-blooded, bones-snapping kind of shift. The kind that’s messy and violent and monstrous enough to send Cassidy running for the fucking hills.
I need that.
I need her to bolt again so I can finally breathe without the scent of her chasing me through every room. I can't keep dealing with how often she’s around. How I’ve started to like it in such a short amount of time. I’m liking the way she glares at me when I push her buttons and the way she pushes back harder. I hate just how much I like it.
Cassidy clears her throat beside me. “We need to go over your lines.”
I don’t look at her. Just head toward the small bar set up in the corner of the room. My dressing room is the only room with one. I grab the bottle and pour amber heat into a glass.
“I don’t need lines,” I mutter, swirling the drink. “Shift, fuck her brains out, leave. That’s a wrap.”
I raise the glass to my lips but don’t even get to taste it. Because Cassidy’s hand comes out of nowhere, fingers wrapping around the glass. She yanks it right out of my grip before the liquid touches my tongue.
I blink.
