her hand against her mouth, choking back a sound that was caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
Damn it, this isn’t fair! And fate is a cruel, snide bitch I would love to get my hands on!
From the first moment Chloe had been old enough to understand how the curse would impact her life, she’d never been able to stand it when other women bitched and moaned about some big, gorgeous hunk offering them a hot fling…without the promise of a future. It’d always made her roll her eyes and want to shake some sense into the idiots, since they didn’t know how lucky they were to even have that choice. To have the freedomto say yes if they wanted to, without worrying that the man was only interested in them because of some stupid curse or that they’d be looked down on as a “user” and a “manipulator.” God, she could still remember how cruel a local clan of Saville witches had been to Monica after she’d gotten pregnant with Jamie and her boyfriend had left her, telling Monica that she’d gotten exactly what she deserved…and that a Mallory like her was meant to be alone.
If the circumstances had been different, and Chloe had been a normal woman, without this bloody curse hanging over her head, and Kellan Scott had stopped her on the street or in a coffee bar and asked her out, she wouldn’t have worried about being too short or too flat-chested or too anything . Wouldn’t have moaned about the fact that she wasn’t the kind of woman who normally caught his eye or who could hold him forever. She would have agreed before the words had even left his mouth and thanked God for the opportunity. Even without expecting it to go anywhere—which she wouldn’t have. She would have known he was just using her. But she would have happily been used. She would have enjoyed every moment with him, knowing he’d be worth any regrets that came later.
It was the curse that screwed the fantasy to hell and back—because no matter how badly she wanted him, Chloe couldn’t stand the thought of being the user, herself. Not when there was a chance that she was not only jacking up his desire, but creating it in the first place. She was screwing with his head, and it was wrong.
So no matter how desperate I get, I am going to stay in control. And keep my hands to myself!
A sound to her left suddenly made her jump, and sheturned to find him standing inside the open door of her cell, watching her with that overtly sexual, deceptively lazy gaze, like a big hungry animal getting ready to pounce.
She’d been so consumed by her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed him opening the door and coming into her cell. But he was there now, and as she watched, he closed the door behind him, then walked across the floor and turned, leaning his back against the dividing wall, his powerful arms crossed over that broad, muscular chest. Her cheeks warmed, her mind instantly flooding with the memory of the things she’d said to him before Spark had interrupted them…not to mention the things she’d done, but she pushed those thoughts away, focusing on Kellan. He was already healing, thanks to his Lycan genes, but he still looked like he’d been beaten six ways to Sunday. His right cheekbone was scraped raw, the corner of his mouth still a little swollen, his entire torso lined with fading claw marks and mottled bruises.
“You feeling okay?” she asked, nervously running her palms against her shirt-covered hips, wishing there was something she could do to help him.
“Been better.” His voice was a little scratchier than usual, a kinda wry half smile shaping his sensual mouth. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Something in his expression made it impossible for her to look away. “I was pretty out of it at the time,” he told her, “but I have a hazy recollection of you giving Spark a smack down.”
She licked her lips, her cheeks burning with heat. “I, um, just lost my temper a bit,” she murmured, thenimmediately changed
Damn it, this isn’t fair! And fate is a cruel, snide bitch I would love to get my hands on!
From the first moment Chloe had been old enough to understand how the curse would impact her life, she’d never been able to stand it when other women bitched and moaned about some big, gorgeous hunk offering them a hot fling…without the promise of a future. It’d always made her roll her eyes and want to shake some sense into the idiots, since they didn’t know how lucky they were to even have that choice. To have the freedomto say yes if they wanted to, without worrying that the man was only interested in them because of some stupid curse or that they’d be looked down on as a “user” and a “manipulator.” God, she could still remember how cruel a local clan of Saville witches had been to Monica after she’d gotten pregnant with Jamie and her boyfriend had left her, telling Monica that she’d gotten exactly what she deserved…and that a Mallory like her was meant to be alone.
If the circumstances had been different, and Chloe had been a normal woman, without this bloody curse hanging over her head, and Kellan Scott had stopped her on the street or in a coffee bar and asked her out, she wouldn’t have worried about being too short or too flat-chested or too anything . Wouldn’t have moaned about the fact that she wasn’t the kind of woman who normally caught his eye or who could hold him forever. She would have agreed before the words had even left his mouth and thanked God for the opportunity. Even without expecting it to go anywhere—which she wouldn’t have. She would have known he was just using her. But she would have happily been used. She would have enjoyed every moment with him, knowing he’d be worth any regrets that came later.
It was the curse that screwed the fantasy to hell and back—because no matter how badly she wanted him, Chloe couldn’t stand the thought of being the user, herself. Not when there was a chance that she was not only jacking up his desire, but creating it in the first place. She was screwing with his head, and it was wrong.
So no matter how desperate I get, I am going to stay in control. And keep my hands to myself!
A sound to her left suddenly made her jump, and sheturned to find him standing inside the open door of her cell, watching her with that overtly sexual, deceptively lazy gaze, like a big hungry animal getting ready to pounce.
She’d been so consumed by her thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed him opening the door and coming into her cell. But he was there now, and as she watched, he closed the door behind him, then walked across the floor and turned, leaning his back against the dividing wall, his powerful arms crossed over that broad, muscular chest. Her cheeks warmed, her mind instantly flooding with the memory of the things she’d said to him before Spark had interrupted them…not to mention the things she’d done, but she pushed those thoughts away, focusing on Kellan. He was already healing, thanks to his Lycan genes, but he still looked like he’d been beaten six ways to Sunday. His right cheekbone was scraped raw, the corner of his mouth still a little swollen, his entire torso lined with fading claw marks and mottled bruises.
“You feeling okay?” she asked, nervously running her palms against her shirt-covered hips, wishing there was something she could do to help him.
“Been better.” His voice was a little scratchier than usual, a kinda wry half smile shaping his sensual mouth. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Something in his expression made it impossible for her to look away. “I was pretty out of it at the time,” he told her, “but I have a hazy recollection of you giving Spark a smack down.”
She licked her lips, her cheeks burning with heat. “I, um, just lost my temper a bit,” she murmured, thenimmediately changed
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