Page 25 of Howling
Garth barely even blinks, staring at her like an obsessive stalker, as if afraid that she might be a figment of his imagination and disappear.
I can’t fault him, since that was my first reaction as well.
The girl is gorgeous, striking in a way that automatically draws every eye in the room. It’s not only her looks that are fascinating. She exudes a calming alpha vibe that has everyone around flocking to her. They automatically want to please her, seek her approval and affection.
Since she is female, I doubt anyone has bothered to look beneath the calm exterior to see the barely contained predator lurking under her skin. Female shifters are supposed to be obedient and docile—a survival mechanism that makes them irresistible to alphas and their need to claim and protect.
Any sane person would be put off by the threat of violence that hovers around her like a perfume, but not shifters.
It’s the opposite, in fact—our beasts are drawn to it on a primal level.
It makes her even more irresistible.
If alphas are rare, female shifters are nearly nonexistent. While they should be coddled and worshiped, the opposite happens—they’re often hunted by alphas, claimed as prizes, and used for breeding even stronger alphas.
Because what does an alpha want more than anything?
More territory, more power, and more…everything.
Something tells me she would not submit easily.
I swear I can practically see pure chaos swirl around her, and my fox absolutely loves it.
She’s the opposite of Garth.
His need to control everything is the only thing that keeps him sane some days, even if he drives the rest of us batshit crazy in the process.
I grab the lightly seasoned steaks and toss them into the pan, my mouth watering when the juicy thickness sizzles deliciously. Though she tries to hide it, she can’t stop stealing lustful looks at the food. The thought of having that look directed at me is enough to make my cock throb with the need to feel her touch, and I turn away, discreetly adjusting myself.
When she absentmindedly licks her lips, a flash of hunger crossing her expression, my enjoyment fades. I’ve been hungry more than once in my life, near starving before the guys found me. It fucking tears me up inside that she’s ever had to feel that gnawing, unrelenting pain that never seems to end. Patches of red fur bubble up along the back of my fingers as I lose my shit, and I clench my eyes shut, concentrating on pulling my fox back.
From personal experience, I know the last thing she’ll want is sympathy.
The only thing that allows me to pull back my rage is my need to feed the woman. When I have myself under control, I flash her a wink, needing to lighten the mood before I do something stupid and demand that she allow me to take care of her. “I saved the best for last. Though my name is Tyler, I’d prefer it if you continue to call me Foxy.”
Her lips quirk ever so slightly, and my fox yips in my mind, pleased to have her attention back on us. I wait a beat, but when she doesn’t say anything, I pout a little. “You don’t have to tell us your full name, but if you don’t, I’m going to have to come upwith something on my own.Beautifulwill work.” I rub my chin, pretending to think about it. “Sexyhas a nice ring to it.”
Feeling a bit impish, I snap my fingers and smile slyly. “I got it! I’ll call you?—”
“Frankie.” She relents with a sigh, but I don’t miss the slight flush to her cheeks as she avoids my gaze. “You can call me Frankie.”
Reaching over, I open the cupboard and drag out some plates, grateful we even have clean dishes—that we have dishes at all, considering the way these fools break things. I hand them to her, then grab some silverware and toss it on top with a clatter. She blinks in surprise, scrambling to catch everything, and I nudge her toward the island. “I’ll finish up the food while you set the table.”
She reluctantly does as instructed, plopping the plates a good foot away from the guys, as if reluctant to step any closer. A pleased yip echoes in my head when I notice she places our plates next to each other.
Sure, they’re a foot apart, but she’s closer to me than the others, and I call that a win.
I pull the barely seared steaks from the stove, placing one on each plate, ensuring she has the largest slab. The veggies are next. I haphazardly toss a token few onto the guys’ plates, then dump the majority in front of the girl.
If I expect her to protest, then I would be waiting a long time. Shifter women aren’t afraid of enjoying their food, often eating almost as much as the men. If anyone tries to take it from them, they can be downright vicious.
It’s another reason why women often have more than one mate—so we can pamper them like they deserve.
Frankie digs into her food with gusto, not sparing us a glance as she picks up her steak with her bare hands. Fangs flash as she tears into it, barely chewing before she gulps down the food.Garth and Dante exchange measured looks, their expressions grim at her desperation.
When Dante moves to pick up his own steak and rip into it, Frankie growls, curls her arm around her plate, and drags it closer. She hunches over it, a tiny snarl curling her lips. Glaring at each of us, she defiantly shoves another bite of food into her mouth, her cheeks puffing up alarmingly until I fear she might choke.
Appetite lost, I shove my untouched plate gently toward her.
