And then the wolf came forwardcompletely and instinct took over, erasing all rational thought,doing away with any kind of human reason. I was a beast—a mindlessbeast—and happy to be one.
I howled again and loped into thewoods.
ChapterThree—Taylor
I listened to the mournful howlingoutside the window and shivered. God, was that Victor out there? Itmust be. I listened again, and this time, I thought I heard morethan one wolf. They seemed to be calling and answering each other.Was there a whole pack out there? But I’d thought Victor was a lonewolf. What if Corbin had been wrong? What if they found out aboutme—about Victor being blood-bonded to a vampire—and wanted to killme?
It’s allright, I told myselfuneasily. It’s going to be allright as long as you don’t advertise your presence.Well, that was easy enough. I plannedto stay right here, in the house, and not step one foot outside. Inthe mean time, I decided to go around and lock all the windows anddoors just to be safe. Victor had acted like he might be gone fordays—I might as well take the opportunity to explore my temporaryhome.
The cabin was as gorgeous on theinside as it was on the outside, though some parts were clearlystill under construction. The kitchen was finished and the fridgewas well stocked with lots of red meat and bacon and cheese—nosurprise there, Victor was clearly a carnivore—but also a head oflettuce and some tomatoes. Hmm, so maybe he ate a salad from timeto time? There was a six pack of Sam Adams and a box with a sliceof cold pizza in it, which I stared at with longing. I had alwaysbeen kind of a foodie back before I was turned but vamps can’t eat.The most we can do is sip a little liquid from time to time and nottoo much of that.
I closed the fridge with a sigh.Well, Victor had been gracious enough to give me his blood, maybe Icould make him a meal when he got back. It had been a while since Ihad cooked anything but I used to grill a mean steak. And anyway,wasn’t I the little woman now? Shouldn’t I be meeting him at thedoor in a frilly apron with a dry martini saying, “How was yourday, dear?”
I couldn’t help laughing at theridiculous mental image. I could almost see myself standing there,dressed in a naughty little apron and not much else while Victorwalked through the door. Could almost see his eyes flash gold as helooked at me and hear the low growl in his voice as he took me inhis arms and kissed me…kissed me tenderly but so urgently. As if hecouldn’t wait to take me to bed. To…
God, where didthat come from! I shook my head,trying to get rid of the weird fantasy. I didn’t want the big wereto kiss me, I told myself firmly. I didn’t want him anywherenear me. And yet, the mental image persisted. I couldn’t helpimagining those big, warm hands caressing my skin, stroking up anddown my sides, cupping my breasts.
“Stop it!” Isaid out loud. What was wrong with me? Why was I imagining thesethings—feeling like this? But it wouldn’t stop. I licked my lips,still tasting the faint trace of his delicious blood. My breastsfelt heavy and tender and my nipples were tight. The area betweenmy legs was swollen and throbbing. What was going on?
It was the same problem I’d hadever since our wedding. The strange feelings that wouldn’t leave mealone. I should be incapable of getting aroused. After whatRoderick had done to me, I should never want to be within fiftyfeet of any man ever again.
So why was I feeling like this?And why couldn’t I stop thinking of Victor? Remembering his smell,his taste…
I went to the kitchen sink andsplashed ice cold water on my face until I was gasping. It helped—alittle.
“There,” I saidout loud. “That’s better.”
It occurred tome that I was getting into the habit of talking to myself, whichwas sort of bordering on crazy. I needed to get a grip. Iremembered that I had seen a box of chamomile tea in one ofVictor’s cabinets and made a plan on the spot. I would explore therest of the house and then make myself a soothing cup of tea to sipwhile I watched something mindless on TV. And I wouldnot entertain any more fantasies about the big were who was now myhusband.
“Temporary husband,” Ireminded myself as I retreated from the kitchen and went to look atthe rest of the house.
The upstairs rooms were stillclearly under construction. They looked like they were going to besome guest bedrooms and maybe a study. Downstairs was almostcompletely finished. Besides the kitchen there was a breakfast nookand a vast living area filled with a big brown leather sectionaland a large flat screen TV.
Probably wherehe watches the game, I thought,imagining Victor sprawled on the couch, his long, muscular formtaking up most of the sectional. He would have the remote in onehand, clicking idly. I would come up behind him and kiss the backof his neck.
“Who’swinning?” I wouldask.
He wouldn’t answer—instead hewould reach up and pull me into his lap. I would snuggle close andbreathe in his rich, masculine scent. The heat of his big bodywould warm me all the way through. One large hand would slip intomy blouse and cup my breast, his thumb sliding gently over mynipple until a sweet, lazy lust filled me, making me hot, making mewant him…
God, I was doingit again! I shook myself and took a deep breath, trying toclear my head. What was going on with all the weird fantasies?The feelings I’d been having for ages, but these strange littleflashes of what my life would be like with Victor if we were reallya couple…not to mention the way they kept getting sexual—well, itwas too much.
Keepgoing, I told myselfsternly. Look at the rest of thehouse. Concentrate on that and
