Taming the Beast

She’d asked him a question, and he’d gone to that salacious place again, thinking about how many layers she wore beneath her skirt. From the brief glimpse he’d had before, there were panties, but they didn’t cover much.

He pulled in a bracing breath and responded, “Yes. I do. There’s a local brand I used to enjoy called Southern Blue.”

“Oh, they closed down before I had a chance to try them.”

“Yes. They needed capital. If I’d known, I would have fed them some.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.” He shoved the remnant of his sandwich into his mouth and, deciding his erection had diminished enough to avoid notice, turned back to face her.

She’d taken her sweater off and leaned over the top of the mini-fridge, daintily holding her sandwich where the crumbs would be caught.

And leaning so the full complement of her bosom was on display. Through the open V of her shirt, her salmon pink bra and the breasts within tempted him brazenly.

The beast within him stirred, and Andreas furrowed his brow.

Does she bend like that at work? Does her employer get to see the same view?

“You’re making that noise again,” she said, and her brow was furrowed, too.

“What noise would that be, sweet Mary?”

“Stop calling me that. I’m not sweet, and certainly don’t sound like I am with this voice. My mother used to tell me I had a Lauren Bacall voice, and I don’t think she meant that as a compliment.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? I happen to be a fan of the late actress.”

“Suffice it to say that my mother is a soprano with attitude, and that she finds my voice a disappointment.”

“Then she’s insane.”

She shrugged gracefully. “My father preferred to say that she had misplaced priorities. And the noise you made was an honest-to-gods growl, and not the kind men at the bar used to make when they thought Jeff had cut them off

too early.”

“I see.” Jeff Alstrup was gone, just like Ollie. He’d closed his bar, packed up his house and his motorcycle, and got the hell out of town. Of course, he would have followed his best friend to Norseton, reputation be damned.

Andreas wondered if he was happy, too. He didn’t know if the Afótama were freer about asking such questions.

“Explain the growling to me,” she said.

She was in front of him, somehow. He’d been lost in his thoughts, and she’d put her delectable body directly in his way without him noticing. Those kinds of distractions could very well get him killed if he had the misfortune of encountering the woman in public. She’d make him forget himself and what he was. He didn’t the luxury to forget.

“Andreas.” The edge in her sultry voice was all demand, no scold.

He liked it.

He licked his lips, then closed his eyes and sent chilling thoughts to his cock.

That didn’t work at all. He was hard as a rock, and he was down on his knees suddenly, because that was where the beast wanted him. He needed to show deference to the one who had all the power. It wasn’t him. That was all sweet Mary.

“I can’t explain.” He laid his head against her legs and sucked in a long breath. Her scent was going to undo him, and he didn’t even care.

“Wh-what are you doing?” she asked, but she didn’t move. She didn’t draw away from him. Instead, she put a hand against his cheek.

He knew why she touched him that way. She was trying to get any information she could off him psychically, and the touch was meant to bolster the connection. But there was nothing worth gleaning, except that she shouldn’t fear him, as long as she didn’t try to leave.

“Yes, you can,” she said. “Just like I tell every other person I have to interview for a case, start with the easy words, and then go deeper. Why do you make that sound? It’s not human.”