Page 111 of Ice Wolf
What I’d heard wasn’t possible. I’d done everything to convince myself that Saint was merely an attention hog.
Yet the more time that slipped by, the more the possibility seemed like reality. That made me nuts. Right? There were so many aspects of what he’d confessed to that didn’t seem possible. As strange and mind-blowing as the story remained, something else bothered me even more than facing the possibility he was a shifter.
The thought that he truly cared about me.
An image of a furry creature slithered into my mind, only my visual endeavor was more like the dude out ofAn American Werewolf in Londonas opposed to the truth.
What was the truth?
That wolf shifters really existed? What about lion shifters or what the hell, dragon shifters? Oh, that would create a series of nightmares.
Had I really asked Saint to shift in front of my eyes? Better yet. Had I wanted him to and how would I have reacted if he had? Would I have been even more attracted to the fuzzy-wuzzies or run screaming from the house?
And were there really wolf creatures in the woods that would eat me should I disobey Saint’s commands?
Little Red Riding Hoodhad nothing on this scenario.
“Oh, my God.” My moan was as strangled and twisted as the way my stomach felt. I’d almost pulled over twice to upchuck the limited contents of my stomach.
Being caught vomiting on the pavement would likely get me on the front page of every newspaper in town. That would look great on my resume alongside my debut as a porn star.
The air conditioning just had to be on the fritz. I shouldn’t be as hot and bothered as I was with it being the end of April, but I was sweating like a freaking pig, broiled not grilled.
After he’d stormed off, I’d remained outside for over an hour, not only debating the possibility that what I’d overheard and what he’d told me was truthful but also asking myself why I’d pretended I didn’t care about him.
I’d also been furious about the possibility this Rocco person was trying to derail Saint’s career. I wanted to have a few words with the Italian Wall. Saint had called me kind. Not when it came to the man I…
A giant groan left my throat.
The man I adored.
Maybe because the concept of having a relationship with Saint was completely off limits the ache was so all consuming. Being with him was forbidden in just about every corner of the earth and likely in the Bible as well. Saint had mentioned there were other humans who’d had relationships with shifters.
Why not form a group of women who’d fallen in love with a shifter?
While I laughed softly to myself, a lump formed in my throat.
Love was the furthest thing from my mind.
My phone had blown up. The social media accounts had blown up. My email. I was a goner. After this gig, I’d never be offered another. Including by my own father. How could the man trust me after I’d ruined everything in a matter of days? I’d posted some terrific photos. Or so I’d thought. Now I was questioning everything.
It was a good thing my father was paying me so well that I could disappear on some tropical beach somewhere for the rest of my life. I’d dye my hair, wear contacts, and never ever go near a library again. No one would ever recognize me.
Right.
A girl could dream.
Maybe that would replace the raunchy fantasies I’d had about the savage iceman that I couldn’t get out of my mind.
I took several deep breaths but was fearful I would start hyperventilating. That also wasn’t on my bucket list for the day. I had a mandatory meeting with the coach and attorneys, reporters were hounding me for a quote, and the first game of the playoffs was in two days in Tampa.
Where I was supposed to go. With him. My fiancé. My fake fiancé.
My werewolf.
Oh, my God. I was losing my mind. “Shifter,” I repeated softly. Was I really buying into the story? Maybe. Maybe not. I wasn’t certain.
Of anything. No, that wasn’t true. I was certain of a single thing.
