Brindle by V. Vaughn Page B

steroid large. “So you’re going to try to feed the hunger with sugar, caffeine, and frat boys?”
    “No frat boys. They—”
    “Don’t satisfy you.” The smirk on Brindle’s face is gone, and he uncrosses his arms to pick up a fork.
    I shake my head because I don’t want to get into my current sex life with my ex-boyfriend, but I need answers. “Why is that?”
    Brindle shrugs and stabs the cinnamon roll with his fork to tear off a piece. “I think only your mate can satiate you during mating season.”
    “But you don’t know for sure, do you?” I break off a piece of pastry, too.
    “Nope, because mates don’t usually leave each other.” Brindle chews as he stares at me.
    Way to stab me with guilt. “I made a huge mistake having you turn me. How many times do I have to apologize?”
    “Unfortunately, sorry doesn’t cut it. We can’t reverse this.”
    And now he’s turning that knife to make sure it hurts. When I shifted for the first time, I lost it over what I had become. I tried to come to terms with being part of the Winter Valley wolf pack, but all I could think about was how I was a freak. I couldn’t tell my parents what I had done. I realized I didn’t want to marry Brindle, so I did what I thought was right. I left for college a couple hundred miles away. “Do you really want me to be with you when I don’t want to?”
    “No.” He sets down his fork, and it clatters against the glass plate. His face looks concerned when he says, “I didn’t come here to get you back. I came to help you.”
    I snort. “Help me?”
    “You’re going through hell right now because you’re in heat. And I’m told that it’s only going to get worse until you mate.” When I don’t say anything, he adds, “With me.”
    Fabulous. The only way to stop thinking about sex twenty-four, seven is to sleep with the guy that reminds me what a mess I’ve made of my life.
    Brindle reaches over and puts his hand on top of mine. The moment he touches me, my simmering lust ramps up to a rapid boil. “You can pretend you hate me all you want, but it’s impossible to fall out of love with your mate.” He winks at me. “Besides, it won’t suck.”
    No. It most definitely won’t. I recall how amazing sex was when I was first turned during mating season last year, and even afterward, Brindle and I used up condoms as if they were candy. I turn my hand so my palm touches his, and the electricity of our connection flows through me. “No. It never did.”
    Brindle smiles. “Well, there was that one time.”
    I smile back because we were each other’s first, and it was awkward. But we were so in love, nothing else mattered. “Not even then.” I pull my hand away and pick up my mug of coffee. “I don’t hate you.”
    “I know. You just hate what you’ve become.”
    Tears prick my eyes. I do hate what I’ve become. I can’t seem to make friends, and I’m so lonely. My grades are awful, and I go through the motions each day, knowing I’m always going to fight my werewolf urges, trying to fit into the human world I voluntarily left.
    When a tear rolls down my cheek, Brindle’s chair scrapes across the floor as he moves closer to me. “Shhh.” He pulls me against his chest, and he turns us so his body blocks me from the view of other patrons. I latch on like a girl drowning. I let myself cry but stop when I’m about to start sobbing loudly.
    Being held feels wonderful, and my senses are giddy with everything Brindle. Any plans I had for abstinence are gone. When I pull my head away to glance up at him, his lips beckon me. But I’m afraid if I kiss him, I won’t stop, so I continue on up to his eyes and say, “My roommate moved out. Help me?”
    He lets out a sigh that makes me think he’s sad, too, but then he strokes my cheek, and I shudder. “Lead the way.”
    My dorm is less than a quarter mile from the student union, and our feet move quickly along the pavement. “How did you find me?”
    Brindle