Wolf Island (Sinful Wolf Pack Romances)

She agrees to my terms readily. I have, after all, made it easy for her. She doesn’t have to steal from him unless she can assure herself that it is for his own good. I am not worried. She will find out it is as I said it is. She doesn’t need to know the rest.

I could laugh at my own words. There is no hate without love. It sounds like something my mother would say. But it is true in a way. How easy it is for those of us who live without light to hate those who bask in it.

It angers me that she is so eager to see him. I am not used to women wanting men other than me, and certainly not a woman who had been moaning in my arms last night as I brought her to orgasm.

That she wants him should make me despise her. He ruined my life. And she loves him.

The problem is that I am finding it impossible to hate her. I want to run my fingers through her long silky hair and tip her face up to my kiss. I want to stroke that porcelain skin all over, to cup her full breasts in my hands and taste them in my mouth.

That she is still a virgin had surprised to me. I wanted so badly to claim her for myself. But Aeron Balthazar is a possessive prick, and I am sure he will not be able to resist claiming her virginity for himself. Perhaps it will even make him trust her, and get her close enough to steal my amulet.

My amulet. He never deserved it.

The thought that the one thing I have wanted most in the world is finally within my grasp should be enough to keep me away from her. But the way she keeps looking at me from under those long lashes, like she is remembering that I am the man who made her come last night, is eating away at my self-control.

I run a finger down her forearm, and enjoy the way she shivers at my touch.

“You’re going to have to stay here tonight,” I tell her, and relish the way her pupils dilate and her mouth drops open.

I bring my lips to almost within touching distance of hers, torturing myself. I breathe in her scent, and watch desire and resistance play in the tiny expressions of her face.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper. “I won’t make you sleep in my bed.”

A blush suffuses her cheeks with a delightful pink. I close my eyes briefly. How I would love to do more things to make her blush. I need to get her away from me.

I call Agnes to take her to a guestroom.

“When will you take me to him?” she asks.

“Tomorrow,” I say, annoyed at her eagerness.

“Where is he?”

“Where do you think?”

“Otherworld,” she whispers, anxiety pooling in her big brown eyes.

I say nothing to ease her nerves. As Agnes takes her away, I pour myself a drink.

It’s been over a decade since humankind has started to visit our world, but their fascination with it is still mixed with revulsion.

I tell myself that where I am taking her there will be no reason for her to be afraid, not if she behaves herself, and not if he still cares a little for her.

I refuse to let myself think about what might happen if he cares too much.

That night my dreams are full of her and all the things he wants to do to her, as they were last night. I am sick of dreaming his dreams.

It is torture to know that she is dreaming the same dreams, and to stay away from her when she is so near. I should not have let her keep the fake amulet tonight. But the way she had clung to it had softened my resolve. And she will need to grow accustomed to it anyway if she is going to keep it until she can exchange mine for his.

The next morning I take breakfast on my own, determined to spend as little time with her as possible. My family has our own portal in the basement of this house. I have instructed Agnes to take her there after breakfast.

As I make my way down to meet her, I instruct myself to be nice to her. I need her to trust me. I need her to feel good about fulfilling her end of the bargain.

But one look at her ignites that unfamiliar monster in my chest. She has dressed up for him. She is bright-eyed with excitement, her cheeks flushed. For him she has worn a pretty, flower-printed silk dress that skims over her luscious curves. The bra she is wearing underneath is barely there. I can see the faint outline of her nipples through it, and it makes my cock jump in my pants.

It’s lust, I tell myself. Nothing more.

She is looking both nervously and longingly at the portal, as if she thinks he’ll be right on the other side of it.

She stiffens a little when she sees me. I give her a wolfish grin, and am gratified to see her blush.

I let my gaze run slowly down her body, lingering on her ample breasts, that are begging for my touch, and then down the narrow dip of her waist to her luscious hips, that I must not put my hands on.

I want to rip her dress off her right here and now. I want to hear her moan her cries of pleasure right into my hungry kiss as I take her to orgasm.

But where in my dreams last night she had been a wanton little minx, today she is blushing and virginal. It both confuses and annoys the hell out of me.

A tiny voice in my head tells me to send her home, that she does not deserve this game I am sending her into. But the devil in me wants to keep her with me all day and all night, even if it is just to look at that beautiful body of hers and not be able to touch it.

I remind myself that she is nothing special. I have no intention of falling for any woman, of giving her power over me. Especially not this woman.

Without greeting her, I take her hand firmly in mine. I lead her through the portal, ignoring her gasp of surprise at her first taste of the electric tingle that surges through her skin as we cross over between the worlds.