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Authors: Cecy Robson
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led him toward his white limo. His eyes widened upon seeing me, and, despite the illumination of the fluorescent streetlights, I could see his face redden.
I pretended I hadn’t noticed him or his dates. Women likely washed Misha’s feet with their own hair. And there was Petro, master vampire, forced to pay for sex.
A throng of twenty-somethings, chatting and laughing with excitement, hurried across to where the velvet ropes awaited. Valets turned away perturbed drivers attempting to pull in, claiming the lots had reached maximum capacity. I alone moved against the restless crowd and crossed the street, seeking solace from the increasing madness.
I shoved my way through a mob of pedestrians, their large numbers spilling out of the crosswalk.
And that’s when it hit me: the familiar scent of fire, earth, and water crashing over stones. My knees buckled and I almost fell. The wolf from my run stalked toward me, a blond bombshell, with a Victoria Beckham bob, fastened to his arm. She spoke to him, but he didn’t appear to listen. His head snapped up and his eyes widened the moment he saw me. A few anxious tourists circled around him as his pace slowed. The blonde tugged on his arm, her voice garbled as if she were speaking underwater. Yet he failed to acknowledge her, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on mine.
The blonde’s tugging became more urgent as our steps converged, her muffled voice becoming louder. “Are you listening? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Ten more steps. The wolf’s piercing gaze intensified.
Five more steps. The sounds of the street disappeared.
One step…
His brown eyes blazed with fire.
My neck craned and my body whipped around as we passed, refusing to leave the forceful grip of those eyes.
I stopped.
And so did he.
A couple of drunks bumped into me as I remained cemented in the middle of the street. The wolf stood onlya few feet away, but it felt like miles. More people brushed past us, their steps quickening until everyone had cleared the street.
Everyone but the three of us.
The blond she-wolf with him glanced openmouthed back and forth between us, her shock swiftly turning to fury. She growled, deep, hard, and deadly. “Mine.”
My jaw slackened. Yours? Her words pierced me like the sharp edge of a knife. He’s…yours?
A deafening car horn made me jolt. I was blocking traffic and didn’t even know it. More cars joined in, their angry horns making my sensitive ears burn. In a painful rush, the full cadence of the city overloaded my senses. I stumbled and kept moving. This time I didn’t look back.
I hustled for five blocks in the torture devices Taran called shoes, shaken by what had just happened.
Did he do something to me? That didn’t make sense. The wolf appeared just as freaked as I was. Aw, hell. Could I have done something to him?
I shook my head to clear it and forced the experience from my mind. It doesn’t matter, Celia. He’s not yours to take.
The thought alone made me slow down. But what had I expected? Someone that striking would never know a lonely night.
I slipped off Taran’s deadly interpretation of footwear and called a cab. The cold sidewalk alleviated the aching of my swollen feet, but it was no match for the sense of longing the wolf had caused. I paused and lifted my hair, willing myself to calm, and hoping the brisk night air would whisk away the evening’s frustrations.
It didn’t work. As much as I dreamed of seeing him again, I never imagined it would be on the arm of anotherfemale. Disappointment beat shock into submission.
When the cab arrived almost forty minutes later, I crept into it, disturbed by the unusual ache gnawing at my chest.
“Where to, lady?” the cabbie asked.
“Dollar Point.”
The portly cabbie adjusted his baseball cap, but didn’t bother to turn around. Most of the hair he had left hung from his ears. “Sixty bucks,” Prince Charming muttered. He jumped when he caught my scowl in the rearview mirror.
I pretended I hadn’t noticed him or his dates. Women likely washed Misha’s feet with their own hair. And there was Petro, master vampire, forced to pay for sex.
A throng of twenty-somethings, chatting and laughing with excitement, hurried across to where the velvet ropes awaited. Valets turned away perturbed drivers attempting to pull in, claiming the lots had reached maximum capacity. I alone moved against the restless crowd and crossed the street, seeking solace from the increasing madness.
I shoved my way through a mob of pedestrians, their large numbers spilling out of the crosswalk.
And that’s when it hit me: the familiar scent of fire, earth, and water crashing over stones. My knees buckled and I almost fell. The wolf from my run stalked toward me, a blond bombshell, with a Victoria Beckham bob, fastened to his arm. She spoke to him, but he didn’t appear to listen. His head snapped up and his eyes widened the moment he saw me. A few anxious tourists circled around him as his pace slowed. The blonde tugged on his arm, her voice garbled as if she were speaking underwater. Yet he failed to acknowledge her, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on mine.
The blonde’s tugging became more urgent as our steps converged, her muffled voice becoming louder. “Are you listening? What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Ten more steps. The wolf’s piercing gaze intensified.
Five more steps. The sounds of the street disappeared.
One step…
His brown eyes blazed with fire.
My neck craned and my body whipped around as we passed, refusing to leave the forceful grip of those eyes.
I stopped.
And so did he.
A couple of drunks bumped into me as I remained cemented in the middle of the street. The wolf stood onlya few feet away, but it felt like miles. More people brushed past us, their steps quickening until everyone had cleared the street.
Everyone but the three of us.
The blond she-wolf with him glanced openmouthed back and forth between us, her shock swiftly turning to fury. She growled, deep, hard, and deadly. “Mine.”
My jaw slackened. Yours? Her words pierced me like the sharp edge of a knife. He’s…yours?
A deafening car horn made me jolt. I was blocking traffic and didn’t even know it. More cars joined in, their angry horns making my sensitive ears burn. In a painful rush, the full cadence of the city overloaded my senses. I stumbled and kept moving. This time I didn’t look back.
I hustled for five blocks in the torture devices Taran called shoes, shaken by what had just happened.
Did he do something to me? That didn’t make sense. The wolf appeared just as freaked as I was. Aw, hell. Could I have done something to him?
I shook my head to clear it and forced the experience from my mind. It doesn’t matter, Celia. He’s not yours to take.
The thought alone made me slow down. But what had I expected? Someone that striking would never know a lonely night.
I slipped off Taran’s deadly interpretation of footwear and called a cab. The cold sidewalk alleviated the aching of my swollen feet, but it was no match for the sense of longing the wolf had caused. I paused and lifted my hair, willing myself to calm, and hoping the brisk night air would whisk away the evening’s frustrations.
It didn’t work. As much as I dreamed of seeing him again, I never imagined it would be on the arm of anotherfemale. Disappointment beat shock into submission.
When the cab arrived almost forty minutes later, I crept into it, disturbed by the unusual ache gnawing at my chest.
“Where to, lady?” the cabbie asked.
“Dollar Point.”
The portly cabbie adjusted his baseball cap, but didn’t bother to turn around. Most of the hair he had left hung from his ears. “Sixty bucks,” Prince Charming muttered. He jumped when he caught my scowl in the rearview mirror.
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