Read Online Claimed by the Wolf (BWWM Erotic Paranormal Romance) by Candi Jackson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Candi Jackson
Tags: Fantasy, paranormal romance, Werewolves, Erotic Romance, bwwm, interracial romance, BBW, billionaires, lexi johnson
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He just got tired of fidelity.
My face burned in shame. Good thing my dark brown skin was dark enough to hide the flush of blood, not that anyone was looking.
Four hundred ninety-six dollars and seventy-two cents to keep me going. I had rent due next week—and Mrs. Basil was not exactly the lenient, forgiving type—and needed groceries and gas to keep my crappy car going if I wanted to make it to my final classes and exams.
What would I do after that?
I had no appetite, especially for these horribly salty noodles, but I needed to keep my energy up. I choked down the salt broth and soggy white flour noodles and took my cup back to the communal kitchen.
Mrs. Basil stood at the stove, pouring steaming water from a kettle into a chipped mug. She turned and gave me a suspicious glance. “Rent’s due on Monday.”
Like I didn’t know.
“You’ll get it Monday morning,” I promised, stuffing cheer I absolutely didn’t feel into my voice.
“I should hope so.” She dropped a tea bag into the water and left.
It took the little willpower I had left to swallowing all the retorts that wanted to fly out of my throat. Fuck it; I needed to get out of here before I said something I’d regret. Walking out on my job was one thing, but I wasn’t yet reckless enough to throw away the roof over my head.
I ran back to my room in the basement long enough to grab my purse, car keys, and coat. Mrs. Basil paid for the cable—she liked to boast about how generous she was with utilities, the old bag—so I left the TV on. Might as well get my money’s worth, even if I wasn’t going to be home to watch it.
While my car warmed up, I rubbed my hands together and debated where to go. There wasn’t much open at this time on a Sunday evening, and it was way too cold to be outside. Plus I couldn’t really spend much.
But one drink at the bar. I could afford that, and I could just keep sipping at it. I smiled. Maybe there would be a guy or two I could charm into buying me more. A little flirting would pass the time nicely, take my mind off things.
Yeah, I thought, backing out of my parking spot on the street, that sounded like just the thing.
* * *
S itting in the dim, overcrowded bar, I began to regret my decision. It seemed like a lot of people had also thought to come out and get warm with some alcohol. That would have been great, except most of them looked like the kind of folks I didn’t want anything to do with: shifty old men in coats with collars turned up to their ears. A couple women here and there, chatting and checking out the options. They looked as disappointed as I felt. Well, they were welcome to the old guys. No, thanks!
I sighed and tipped back my whiskey sour. I’d been nursing it, but the ice had long since melted in the too-warm bar, and honestly, I was getting bored. Might as well go home and be bored in my bed.
I’d hoped to find a different bed to land in tonight, someone to take my mind off things, but it was shaping up to be one hell of a bad day. Why had I thought this would go any differently?
I slapped my empty glass on the bar and dropped a couple quarters after it. The bartender glanced at them, then at me, and raised an eyebrow. Shame rippled through me. I wasn’t a cheapskate. I really wasn’t. I wanted to leave more, I did, but this was more than I should even be spending right now, what with rent and bills due next week.
Shaking my head and wondering why I’d ever thought this was a good idea, I reached for my coat.
“Get the lady another of whatever she just had.” The voice was deep, masculine, baritone, and sent shivers up my thighs. Delicious shivers.
What?
I swiveled around on my stool, coat forgotten. My eyes landed on a man who had picked up my empty glass and was studying the dark plum lipstick print on it. Then he turned to me, and an electric shock shot through my entire body.
Beautiful wasn’t even the right word for this man. He looked like a Michelangelo statue come
My face burned in shame. Good thing my dark brown skin was dark enough to hide the flush of blood, not that anyone was looking.
Four hundred ninety-six dollars and seventy-two cents to keep me going. I had rent due next week—and Mrs. Basil was not exactly the lenient, forgiving type—and needed groceries and gas to keep my crappy car going if I wanted to make it to my final classes and exams.
What would I do after that?
I had no appetite, especially for these horribly salty noodles, but I needed to keep my energy up. I choked down the salt broth and soggy white flour noodles and took my cup back to the communal kitchen.
Mrs. Basil stood at the stove, pouring steaming water from a kettle into a chipped mug. She turned and gave me a suspicious glance. “Rent’s due on Monday.”
Like I didn’t know.
“You’ll get it Monday morning,” I promised, stuffing cheer I absolutely didn’t feel into my voice.
“I should hope so.” She dropped a tea bag into the water and left.
It took the little willpower I had left to swallowing all the retorts that wanted to fly out of my throat. Fuck it; I needed to get out of here before I said something I’d regret. Walking out on my job was one thing, but I wasn’t yet reckless enough to throw away the roof over my head.
I ran back to my room in the basement long enough to grab my purse, car keys, and coat. Mrs. Basil paid for the cable—she liked to boast about how generous she was with utilities, the old bag—so I left the TV on. Might as well get my money’s worth, even if I wasn’t going to be home to watch it.
While my car warmed up, I rubbed my hands together and debated where to go. There wasn’t much open at this time on a Sunday evening, and it was way too cold to be outside. Plus I couldn’t really spend much.
But one drink at the bar. I could afford that, and I could just keep sipping at it. I smiled. Maybe there would be a guy or two I could charm into buying me more. A little flirting would pass the time nicely, take my mind off things.
Yeah, I thought, backing out of my parking spot on the street, that sounded like just the thing.
* * *
S itting in the dim, overcrowded bar, I began to regret my decision. It seemed like a lot of people had also thought to come out and get warm with some alcohol. That would have been great, except most of them looked like the kind of folks I didn’t want anything to do with: shifty old men in coats with collars turned up to their ears. A couple women here and there, chatting and checking out the options. They looked as disappointed as I felt. Well, they were welcome to the old guys. No, thanks!
I sighed and tipped back my whiskey sour. I’d been nursing it, but the ice had long since melted in the too-warm bar, and honestly, I was getting bored. Might as well go home and be bored in my bed.
I’d hoped to find a different bed to land in tonight, someone to take my mind off things, but it was shaping up to be one hell of a bad day. Why had I thought this would go any differently?
I slapped my empty glass on the bar and dropped a couple quarters after it. The bartender glanced at them, then at me, and raised an eyebrow. Shame rippled through me. I wasn’t a cheapskate. I really wasn’t. I wanted to leave more, I did, but this was more than I should even be spending right now, what with rent and bills due next week.
Shaking my head and wondering why I’d ever thought this was a good idea, I reached for my coat.
“Get the lady another of whatever she just had.” The voice was deep, masculine, baritone, and sent shivers up my thighs. Delicious shivers.
What?
I swiveled around on my stool, coat forgotten. My eyes landed on a man who had picked up my empty glass and was studying the dark plum lipstick print on it. Then he turned to me, and an electric shock shot through my entire body.
Beautiful wasn’t even the right word for this man. He looked like a Michelangelo statue come
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