Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Makenna . . .” But he didn’t have the words to explain his thoughts. Hell, he never did. Instinct told him that blurting out his belief with his usual lack of tact wouldn’t work out well. He needed to think about this. He needed to come to her with the right words, make a case she couldn’t argue against . . . because she would argue against it. Instinct told him that too.
He took a moment to breathe her in, to take that scent deep into his lungs. Then, with one last lick over the mark, Ryan released her and stepped back. It was hard. Damn fucking hard. Now that he knew—and he did know, he was sure to his bones—that she was his mate, walking away from her . . . it felt wrong.
“Be safe for me, Makenna.” Because he’d lose his fucking mind if anything happened to her. Her forehead crinkled—most likely in confusion at his choice of words—and he smoothed it out with his finger. “Remember: if there’s a problem, call me.”
As Ryan slid into the driver’s seat, he took one last look at Makenna. It was a mistake. Because the sight of even that small distance between them pissed him the fuck off. His wolf paced angrily, wanting to return to Makenna. Wanting to take, and bite, and own.
They’d claim her, he assured his wolf. There was no chance Ryan would give up this one good thing he could have. She was his mate, she was born for him, and she’d never get away from him.
When the Chevy disappeared into the distance, Makenna took a steadying breath. The guy certainly knew how to mess with a girl’s equilibrium. He kissed the way he did everything else—dominantly, confidently, and with enviable skill.
And then he’d bitten her.
Part of her had bristled at the possessive act, but she’d been so damn shocked that she’d done nothing more than state the obvious and stare at him in dismay. Well, Madisyn had warned her that he looked at her like he wanted to take a bite. Makenna just hadn’t thought he’d actually do it.
That little interlude had confirmed what she’d already suspected; he was a pushy motherfucker who she’d be completely unable to handle. So why did she want him? Because all that strength, confidence, and animal energy was like a damn aphrodisiac for Makenna. So now she was wet and aching for more . . . and the fucker had driven away. She might have been offended, might have suspected that he was put off by her being a loner, if it hadn’t been for his parting words.
“Be safe for me.”
Why? And why had he seemed reluctant to leave her?
Shaking off the matter, she headed into the shelter. Madisyn and Colton were chatting near the reception desk. Madisyn slowly came toward her. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” sighed Makenna. “I’m just tired.”
“Oh.” Madisyn patted her shoulder. “Guess it was that kiss that drained you, huh. Don’t growl at me, Wray.”
“Fuck off, feline.”
Colton laughed as Madisyn began singing, “Ryan kissed Makenna, Ryan kissed Makenna, Ryan kissed—ow, let go of my hair, heifer!”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Some people got utter joy from teasing others. Trick was one of them.
His attempts to irk Ryan very rarely worked. When they did, it wasn’t so much that the things he said bothered Ryan; it was that Ryan lost his patience with the whole thing. Still, the majority of the time, Ryan simply drowned him out. Or stared at Trick until he stopped. It depended on his mood. Today, though, his efforts to rile Ryan were paying off.
“I was just making the very obvious point that Makenna’s hot,” said Trick, who was riding shotgun. “No need to snarl.”
And how had Trick made his point? By complimenting her body—her eyes, her mouth, her breasts, her ass, and her legs.
Dante locked gazes with Ryan through the rearview mirror, looking curious. “What’s wrong with you? You’re gruffer than usual.”
Ryan didn’t respond. All he wanted was to get this meeting with Myles’s pack mates over with. He’d had a shitty night’s sleep, having spent hours simply lying there, deciding what he’d say to Makenna. He wanted to see her. Touch her. Inhale her scent.
He hadn’t yet told his pack mates about his belief that she was his mate. It seemed wrong to do it before he’d had the conversation with her.
“I don’t suppose you know if Makenna’s dating anyone, do you?” Trick asked.
Ryan growled at the interest in his voice—it came from both him and his wolf.
Trick grinned. “If I’m not mistaken, there was some possessiveness in that growl.”
“You’re different with her, Ryan. I mean, you talk to her,” Jaime marveled. “And I don’t mean in monosyllables. You actually converse with her.”
“And she talks to you,” added Taryn. “Dominic said she can interpret your grunts.”
“I hope she’s single,” said Trick. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with a female who—”