cover-up makeup afterward.
She shifted in her seat, uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs again, and her dark blue sundress rode high on her thigh for a moment. Brandon’s eyes suddenly popped open as he stared hungrily at the exposed length of leg. Her cheeks heated as she belatedly gathered her wits enough to tug her skirt into a more modest position.
“Excuse me,” Prim muttered as she pushed out of her seat and walked down the aisle toward the restroom. She didn’t really have to go, but she did need to get away from Brandon and his alternating aloofness and hungry looks. Her panties were so wet right now it was uncomfortable. And all he was doing was sitting two feet away from her.
She opened the door and an arm suddenly shot out and grabbed the edge of the door out of her hand. “What in the name of Fates?”
She lifted her gaze and found Brandon looming over her, standing much too close and glaring down at her as if she’d just done something very, very wrong.
“Listen up, Fate,” he said, practically growling at her. “You have one purpose here and one purpose only. Your job is to put that goddamned curse back onto Gavin, so that he can go back to leading our pack and being Sydney’s mate.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly, unsure of why he felt the need to reiterate this point. She was well aware of her purpose, thankyouverymuch .
“So quit eye-fucking me, because it isn’t going to work. I don’t like Fates. I’ve never liked Fates. I think the whole lot of you are a worthless waste of space. You are not going to change my opinion, no matter how many times you flash those fucking mile-long legs of yours. So knock it off.” He let the door close, and it smacked her on the behind. He smirked before stalking off down the aisle.
Shaking with fury, Prim stepped into the tiny restroom and clumsily locked the door. And then she put down the toilet seat cover and sat, taking deep, hopefully cleansing breaths. Except the stale, recirculated air wasn’t exactly cleansing.
Eye-fucking?
He thought she was trying to seduce him? Really? Her? Okay, maybe she’d had a few fantasies in the last twelve hours, but seduce him? Who was he kidding? She knew damn well how inappropriate an affair would be between a Fate and a shifter. Hell, Brandon was the perfect candidate to mate to a Chala. His personality was obviously lacking, but he had the right mindset: protect the Chala at all costs. And he was strong enough to stand a fighting chance. Not to mention all that virility. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t be attracted to all that testosterone?
But still, her indignation swelled along with her anger. She hadn’t remotely been trying to seduce him. In fact, she’d been fighting her attraction, because she knew the folly of it. Not to mention her not-so-positive track record when it came to sleeping with shifters.
By the time William came knocking on the door, complaining he was about to yarf, Prim was angry enough to give Brandon a piece of her mind. Except when she walked back to her seat, he wasn’t there. Sydney looked up from the magazine she was reading and casually commented that he’d gone into the cockpit to talk to the pilot, and Prim dropped into her seat, feeling oddly deflated.
They landed in New Orleans, and when Prim exited the plane, she gave Brandon the cold shoulder. She even refused his help when he tried to tug the handle of her luggage out of her hands. She needed nothing from him. Nothing at all. In fact, he was lucky she was still willing to help their plight. She considered telling him so, but was frankly too damn tired to work up the energy to argue with him.
It was dusk by the time Brandon hailed a cab and they all piled into it. He instructed the driver to take them to the nearest steakhouse. Forty minutes later, they stood on the curb in front of a restaurant with a sign proclaiming they served the ‘largest steak in the state of Louisiana.’
“Perfect,” Brandon said
She shifted in her seat, uncrossed and then re-crossed her legs again, and her dark blue sundress rode high on her thigh for a moment. Brandon’s eyes suddenly popped open as he stared hungrily at the exposed length of leg. Her cheeks heated as she belatedly gathered her wits enough to tug her skirt into a more modest position.
“Excuse me,” Prim muttered as she pushed out of her seat and walked down the aisle toward the restroom. She didn’t really have to go, but she did need to get away from Brandon and his alternating aloofness and hungry looks. Her panties were so wet right now it was uncomfortable. And all he was doing was sitting two feet away from her.
She opened the door and an arm suddenly shot out and grabbed the edge of the door out of her hand. “What in the name of Fates?”
She lifted her gaze and found Brandon looming over her, standing much too close and glaring down at her as if she’d just done something very, very wrong.
“Listen up, Fate,” he said, practically growling at her. “You have one purpose here and one purpose only. Your job is to put that goddamned curse back onto Gavin, so that he can go back to leading our pack and being Sydney’s mate.”
“Okay,” she said uncertainly, unsure of why he felt the need to reiterate this point. She was well aware of her purpose, thankyouverymuch .
“So quit eye-fucking me, because it isn’t going to work. I don’t like Fates. I’ve never liked Fates. I think the whole lot of you are a worthless waste of space. You are not going to change my opinion, no matter how many times you flash those fucking mile-long legs of yours. So knock it off.” He let the door close, and it smacked her on the behind. He smirked before stalking off down the aisle.
Shaking with fury, Prim stepped into the tiny restroom and clumsily locked the door. And then she put down the toilet seat cover and sat, taking deep, hopefully cleansing breaths. Except the stale, recirculated air wasn’t exactly cleansing.
Eye-fucking?
He thought she was trying to seduce him? Really? Her? Okay, maybe she’d had a few fantasies in the last twelve hours, but seduce him? Who was he kidding? She knew damn well how inappropriate an affair would be between a Fate and a shifter. Hell, Brandon was the perfect candidate to mate to a Chala. His personality was obviously lacking, but he had the right mindset: protect the Chala at all costs. And he was strong enough to stand a fighting chance. Not to mention all that virility. What red-blooded woman wouldn’t be attracted to all that testosterone?
But still, her indignation swelled along with her anger. She hadn’t remotely been trying to seduce him. In fact, she’d been fighting her attraction, because she knew the folly of it. Not to mention her not-so-positive track record when it came to sleeping with shifters.
By the time William came knocking on the door, complaining he was about to yarf, Prim was angry enough to give Brandon a piece of her mind. Except when she walked back to her seat, he wasn’t there. Sydney looked up from the magazine she was reading and casually commented that he’d gone into the cockpit to talk to the pilot, and Prim dropped into her seat, feeling oddly deflated.
They landed in New Orleans, and when Prim exited the plane, she gave Brandon the cold shoulder. She even refused his help when he tried to tug the handle of her luggage out of her hands. She needed nothing from him. Nothing at all. In fact, he was lucky she was still willing to help their plight. She considered telling him so, but was frankly too damn tired to work up the energy to argue with him.
It was dusk by the time Brandon hailed a cab and they all piled into it. He instructed the driver to take them to the nearest steakhouse. Forty minutes later, they stood on the curb in front of a restaurant with a sign proclaiming they served the ‘largest steak in the state of Louisiana.’
“Perfect,” Brandon said
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