Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

Checking the time on my phone for the thousandth time, I stifle a yawn with my hand. God, the things you have to do for a degree. Who needs to know about battering rams in order to become a nutritionist? If the lecture doesn’t come to an end soon, I’m going to open a vein.

I’ve been doodling in my notebook, with some random bits of info written here and there. I read them over now.

Battering rams were BIG.

Pull back, and then slam into door.

Ram head replaced by that of a WOLF’s—Tolkien lore?

What did I mean by all that? And why is my face getting warm, and my insides clenching? It’s just that… for some reason, reading the words all I can see in my mind is Jarett in that back alley, that smirk on his handsome face and that bulge in his jeans, his hard-on so prominent. Obvious. Big. Like a battering ram.

God. I rub at my flushed cheeks. How can I still want him, after what he said, that sleazy proposal he made me? He knew I’d refuse. But that wasn’t all. He did it on purpose. He made me feel humiliated, cheapened, when he could have just said no.

Though he did say no.

“I’m not capable of taking care of more people.”

He never explained what he meant.

I look down and find that my doodles have looped around a word on the page. His name. I’ve written his name in the center of the page, inside a tangle of thorns and ravens and bloody roses.

Awesome.

I’m sick. I keep finding excuses for him. So he said no, and some cryptic comment. But instead of discussing it like a normal person, he propositioned me. Help Syd in exchange for sucking his dick. Who does that?

An answering throb starts between my legs.

I drop my head on the desk. Unbelievable. Just goes to show that lust has nothing to do with intelligence. I’m not stupid. But my body is.

They say love is blind. Well, if love is blind, then lust is stupid. A total slut.

Makes me crave a guy I shouldn’t want.

And my memory keeps replaying the times he was nice to me, so that I can’t stop myself from wanting to find out more about him, find out what happened in the time I lost track of him—and before that. Before I met him.

All those rumors that were circulating about him, were any of them true?

Funny how my throat closes at the thought. Those rumors were pretty hardcore. Over the top.

Nah, I bet his childhood was nothing like that. This isn’t a movie.

Still, it makes me all the more curious to know. To understand him, understand what put that core of steel in him, that hardness in his eyes, in his words. What planted that metal seed that’s been growing branches, covering him in impenetrable armor. A cruel seed that’s been changing him from the inside out.

I shouldn’t have left the bar to talk to him.

I shouldn’t have asked for his help.

I shouldn’t have considered his words for a second.

No matter how hot he is.

Oh God, the professor is still talking. Turning my notepad sideways, I doodle a cocktail glass and a bottle.

That’s it. The bar. Merc said Jarett works at this bar nearby. I could drop by and ask a few questions.

What was the name of the place again? Something to do with ass. Ass end?

Tight End. That’s the one. I’ve passed in front of it a few times, never paid it much attention. Sydney usually chooses the bars and clubs when we go out—and now I guess I know why, if she chooses them according to their drug selection and not how hot the guys hanging out there are. Like the frat party she wants us to attend tomorrow.