Moonlit Watcher

Leaning forward, she reached down to lay her hand on his forehead and check for a temperature. Did werewolves get fever? His head was hotter than she would have liked to have found it. Guilt gnawed at her. She’d cut him with a silver knife in order to get the bullet out of him. “Idiot,” she chastised herself, and felt the base of his neck. He was warm there as well.

She thought of going into the bathroom and wetting a rag to lay across his forehead, but couldn’t pull her hand away from all that muscled perfection. Sitting beside him on the bed she allowed her hand to travel over his pecs, reveling in the feel of cotton stretched over hard muscle.

His hand snared her wrist and she was flipped onto her back, the man pinning her to the bed with his larger body. She gasped, but didn’t speak, lost in the predatory gleam of his dark brown eyes.

“Where am I?” His deep voice came out as a growl. It sent chills down Juliana’s spine and she struggled not to let him see the effect.

“You’re in my home, in my bedroom.” She lightly pulled on her hand and found he wouldn’t let go. “You were shot outside.”

“I remember being shot.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Who is here helping you?”

“No one is here with me.”

“Don’t lie to me, woman.” His eyes glowed red for a second before he brought them back under control. “I did not walk in here.”

“I dragged you inside.” She licked her lips, nervous but not scared. She still didn’t think he’d hurt her, but he was clearly agitated. “I didn’t want to leave you out there in case the hunters came back.”

His eyes widened but for only a brief moment before a veil seemed to fall over them, hiding any emotion he might feel. “You are very strong for such a small woman.” He lowered his head and sniffed along her neck. It was all Juliana could do not to moan. “I do not smell fear on you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” She met his gaze as he raised his head to stare down at her, letting his eyes bleed back to that red color. He was doing it to intimidate her, but she didn’t understand why. Loneliness seemed to spill from his pores, but he acted as if he wished to chase her away.

“You saw what I am.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry.” His eyes changed back to brown and she saw the confusion in them.

“If I’d known you were a…” geez, it sounded crazy saying it out loud, “a werewolf, I wouldn’t have used a silver knife to get the bullet out. I’m sorry if I hurt you further.”

He blinked, and the confusion turned into raw anger as he smashed his mouth down onto hers. Juliana gasped, the involuntary action opening her to his invasion. His tongue broke through and he tasted every inch of her mouth, greedily and without softness. He was testing her, she realized with clarity. He wanted to frighten her, to send her running. Well, she wouldn’t do it. Juliana kissed him back, felt it the moment he figured out what she was doing, and reveled in the fact she’d turned the tables on him, surprising him with her boldness.

She broke free from his grasp and dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding him tight against her as she raised her pelvis, grinding against him. He moaned against her mouth, enjoying what she was doing. Encouraged by his response, she trailed her fingers down his broad back, and slid them into the back of his waistband.

He abruptly ended the kiss, raising himself onto his elbows to stare down at her. His eyes were red again, but she sensed no danger there. They seemed hungry this time. She knew with certainty the werewolf wanted to devour her, would bet her right leg on it, and she’d gladly allow him to do it.