thought I forgot something. But I didn’t, after all.”
Brandon snorted. “Not bloody likely. You brought enough luggage to last a month. Hopefully, we can get this taken care of in just a couple of days. Which I told you when you rolled out the first bag earlier.”
Prim didn’t dignify that with a response. Yes, he had mocked her this morning when she began wheeling her luggage out of her private suite. But she’d stoically ignored him. Prim was a high-maintenance woman, and she made no pretenses otherwise. If he didn’t like it, well . . . tough.
William’s almost constant retching made it impossible to formulate a plan for when they reached the States. The general consensus was that Gavin was in the United States, but beyond that, they hadn’t been able to discuss their thoughts.
Once they reached the neighboring island where the nearest airstrip was located, the process to secure a charter flight and then load the luggage onto the plane took about two hours. Brandon complained of being hungry, and then became irritated when he wandered into the small café in the minuscule airport and discovered they didn’t serve red meat.
“How the fuck do you people live without a steady supply of good old-fashioned cow meat?” he wanted to know, looking at Prim as if she actually had an answer for him.
“Significantly healthier than you, I’m sure,” she said tartly.
“I’m a shifter,” he pointed out. “My metabolism actually requires red meat. Rakshasa eat people. Light Ones eat cows.” And then he slouched in his seat and refused to speak again until it was time to board the plane.
On the plane, Prim sat across the aisle from him and shot him covert looks when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. She thought about the encounter in the hallway yesterday evening. She’d gone into panic mode when she sensed another presence in that off-limits wing of her house, and she’d rushed out into the hall to see who it was.
She blamed her blatantly sexual reaction to the shifter standing there on the fact that she’d been so panicked. What else could it be? The last time she’d allowed herself to act on an attraction to a shifter, he’d left her desperately wanting–and killed her Chala, too. After she finally got her revenge and cursed Gavin, she’d kept her distance from all other shifters. Clearly, she and shifters were not a good mix.
But oh, that kiss . . . She’d been embarrassingly inept, at first, but she hadn’t properly kissed a man in, well, over 170 years. She’d caught on quickly enough, though, which only proved that kissing was like riding a horse, and you never really truly forgot how to do it. Or maybe it was just that Brandon was so damn good at it. And he hadn’t even really seemed overly into it at the time. She wondered what it would be like if he gave it his full, unadulterated attention.
She’d probably melt into a puddle of lust at his feet.
She was disappointed that the kiss hadn’t progressed into anything more, even as she knew it had been wise to stop it when she had. Still, it would have been nice if Brandon had at least acted like he wanted it to continue. But as soon as he had her assent, he released her, turned away, and walked back into the courtyard. By the time she managed to convince her feet to move, he was gone, and Killian had informed her that he’d continued on through the door leading to the other wing.
Prim hadn’t seen him again until this morning, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t bothered her all night long. In fact, she’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, because every time she closed her eyes, her imagination immediately kicked in and started creating a very X-rated movie of what might have happened had she and Brandon continued. The bags under her eyes had been so huge this morning, she’d lain in bed for an extra forty minutes with fresh, cool cucumbers over her eyes, trying to soak up the puffiness. And she’d still had to load on the
Brandon snorted. “Not bloody likely. You brought enough luggage to last a month. Hopefully, we can get this taken care of in just a couple of days. Which I told you when you rolled out the first bag earlier.”
Prim didn’t dignify that with a response. Yes, he had mocked her this morning when she began wheeling her luggage out of her private suite. But she’d stoically ignored him. Prim was a high-maintenance woman, and she made no pretenses otherwise. If he didn’t like it, well . . . tough.
William’s almost constant retching made it impossible to formulate a plan for when they reached the States. The general consensus was that Gavin was in the United States, but beyond that, they hadn’t been able to discuss their thoughts.
Once they reached the neighboring island where the nearest airstrip was located, the process to secure a charter flight and then load the luggage onto the plane took about two hours. Brandon complained of being hungry, and then became irritated when he wandered into the small café in the minuscule airport and discovered they didn’t serve red meat.
“How the fuck do you people live without a steady supply of good old-fashioned cow meat?” he wanted to know, looking at Prim as if she actually had an answer for him.
“Significantly healthier than you, I’m sure,” she said tartly.
“I’m a shifter,” he pointed out. “My metabolism actually requires red meat. Rakshasa eat people. Light Ones eat cows.” And then he slouched in his seat and refused to speak again until it was time to board the plane.
On the plane, Prim sat across the aisle from him and shot him covert looks when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. She thought about the encounter in the hallway yesterday evening. She’d gone into panic mode when she sensed another presence in that off-limits wing of her house, and she’d rushed out into the hall to see who it was.
She blamed her blatantly sexual reaction to the shifter standing there on the fact that she’d been so panicked. What else could it be? The last time she’d allowed herself to act on an attraction to a shifter, he’d left her desperately wanting–and killed her Chala, too. After she finally got her revenge and cursed Gavin, she’d kept her distance from all other shifters. Clearly, she and shifters were not a good mix.
But oh, that kiss . . . She’d been embarrassingly inept, at first, but she hadn’t properly kissed a man in, well, over 170 years. She’d caught on quickly enough, though, which only proved that kissing was like riding a horse, and you never really truly forgot how to do it. Or maybe it was just that Brandon was so damn good at it. And he hadn’t even really seemed overly into it at the time. She wondered what it would be like if he gave it his full, unadulterated attention.
She’d probably melt into a puddle of lust at his feet.
She was disappointed that the kiss hadn’t progressed into anything more, even as she knew it had been wise to stop it when she had. Still, it would have been nice if Brandon had at least acted like he wanted it to continue. But as soon as he had her assent, he released her, turned away, and walked back into the courtyard. By the time she managed to convince her feet to move, he was gone, and Killian had informed her that he’d continued on through the door leading to the other wing.
Prim hadn’t seen him again until this morning, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t bothered her all night long. In fact, she’d hardly gotten any sleep last night, because every time she closed her eyes, her imagination immediately kicked in and started creating a very X-rated movie of what might have happened had she and Brandon continued. The bags under her eyes had been so huge this morning, she’d lain in bed for an extra forty minutes with fresh, cool cucumbers over her eyes, trying to soak up the puffiness. And she’d still had to load on the
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