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Ophelia’s patience with Peter was at its final thread. She needed to release all the energy shooting through her body like humming electricity. That night, she would have to hit a club and find a partner. Any would do. Any should do. She was done being picky and irrational. She needed what she needed and Peter couldn’t provide for her. The first willing shifter she met was game. She only had to call Malina. Yet, she would not make that phone call. She knew it and it enraged her.
She stopped mid-step, pivoted on her heels, and almost bumped into his chest. “It’s only sex.” Maybe if she had him, she would finally understand what was going on between them. Her wolf decided to intervene and almost made her show her throat to him again. Cold sweat ran over her back. That would have been too embarrassing. She looked up.
If he had understood what was going on between her and her wolf, he didn’t show it. “It’s always only sex to me. I don’t want that with you.” His eyes darkened and he licked his lower lip.
That simple gesture had the power to disorient Ophelia. Dizziness overcame her, as she fell into a spiral, but caught herself before she would crash into him. He hadn’t touched her and she was on fire, craving him. And in the throes of her lust-induced spell, she made a startling realization. She had never experienced this irrational longing before in her life. No man had ever driven her to such level of distress. It felt like dark magik.
“You must be part-warlock.” She shook her head as he gave her a puzzled look. “It’s the only explanation.”
“Okay—?”
“Let’s go, before I commit demonicide.”
“Didn’t know the word even existed.”
“I’m about to introduce it in the vocabulary.” She turned and walked down the hallway. She paused a moment to grab her helmet and the bike’s keys, then exited her apartment before she would do something she would certainly regret. Like throwing herself at him one more time. She didn’t take the elevator. Just the idea of having to share such a confined space with him was enough to make her sweat again. “I’m made of flesh.”
“What did you say?” She swore and ran down the stairs two at a time to get as much distance from him as she could. Given the length of his legs, she never stood a chance. He was behind her the whole time…
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Monica La Porta 