Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137004 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
He wouldn’t have thought that anything could have made him more pissed than he already was. He was so wrong.
Whoa there, Popeye, that had a hint of paranoia to it. Maybe you should quit the crack pipes. Gotta go.
He so wanted to spank that female’s ass—and hard. Maybe spanking that little attitude out of her would make her finally stop baiting him and rebelling against his every order. Maybe he should also kick his wolf’s ass for being unreasonably possessive of a female to whom he had no rights. His wolf growled at that. He was just as stubborn as she was.
Acknowledging, albeit rather begrudgingly, that she’d won that round, Dante fixed his attention on the work that awaited him, intending to ignore his wolf’s foul mood and the unfamiliar feelings needling his ego. He was not going to think about Jaime Farrow again tonight. Not even once.
The second she had sent her final message, Jaime switched off her cell phone and returned it to her purse, since the movie would be starting any minute now. What was wrong with that guy? She hadn’t realized he had such a hard-on for humans. Recalling that he had a few friends who were humans, she shook off the bigot theory. No, apparently there was another reason Dante had switched from being distant to poking his nose into her business and even attempting to interfere with her sex life.
“What do you make of it?” she asked Riley, who had read every message and had even tried advising Jaime on how to respond.
Riley swallowed the popcorn she’d been munching on before speaking. “The whole thing stinks of jealousy to me.”
“But that makes no sense.”
“He’s a guy, it doesn’t have to make sense.”
She had a point. In Jaime’s experience, when it came to male shifters it was often a case of
“logic optional.” Still, if Dante had had any interest in her, there would have been no reason to hide it. And then, there were the things he’d said to Trick about her. “It can’t be jealousy.”
“I find that hard to believe, but I’ve never even spoken to the guy, so I can only speculate. If you’re sure he’s not jealous, then maybe he just doesn’t like it that you’re not chasing after him anymore.”
“Objection, I never chased him.”
“Okay, maybe he doesn’t like that you’re not gazing dreamily at him anymore.”
“I did not gaze dreamily.”
Riley patted her hand. “Sure you didn’t, sweetie.”
“Patronizing bitch.”
“Giant-loving skank. Now shush, the movie’s starting.”
With a playful harrumph, Jaime turned her attention to the movie screen, ready to let it distract her from thoughts of his peculiar behavior. A minute into the movie, she groaned. The hero just had to be named “Dante,” didn’t he?
CHAPTER THREE
Black wolf. Mom screaming. Growls. Blood. Black wolf. Dad shifting. More wolves. Teeth. Claws.
Mom screaming. Black wolf. Black wolf. Black wolf. Black wolf. Teeth. More wolves. Dad roaring.
Growls. Blood. Blood. Blood.
Jaime sprang upright in her bed, panting, shaking, and sweating. Her heartbeat was loud and pumping aggressively. Snippets of her dream sailed across her mind, and grief ripped through her.
Her wolf was also distressed by this trip-down-memory-lane dream and was vigorously attacking the cage Jaime had confined her to, growling and howling and body-slamming the walls until the bars began to give. Jaime doubled over and cried out as cramps assailed her body and an ache pounded through her head. She fought the change, fought it with every bit of strength she had, fought to quickly repair the cage. She sent calming images to her wolf, hoping to reassure the animal that they weren’t in danger anymore, that it was over.
It was minutes later before her wolf began to settle and the bars finally straightened. Nausea suddenly struck Jaime, and in an agony that was becoming too familiar, she rushed to the bathroom where she vomited violently into the toilet. Even when there was nothing left in her stomach, she was racked by dry heaves.
Nothing Jaime had ever done had been able to heal her wolf. Nothing. She was still as traumatized as she had been at just twelve, when she had witnessed her parents’ murder. Her wolf—
frightened, anxious, angry—had surfaced to protect her. It hadn’t been until three weeks later that Jaime had been able to shift back into her human form. Her wolf had been too distressed and defensive to ease back or understand that the attack was over.
That night had left her wolf damaged. She acted like an abused animal—she was distrustful, easily provoked, and quick to anger. Coexisting with such a prickly, unpredictable wolf weighed hard on Jaime. When she was angry, it fed her wolf’s temperamental streak. When she was anxious, it increased her wolf’s restlessness. Such strong emotions gave her wolf strength, and that strength could easily be used to surface in spite of Jaime’s protests.