The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance (Trisha Telep) (Kitty Norville 0.50)

Emma’s nod wasn’t too convincing. She was thinking, he imagined, exactly what he had been earlier: arresting a werewolf wasn’t going to be easy.

She tilted her head back and finished off the coffee, then placed the mug carefully in the cup holder. “Did it help - to see me change? Or make it worse?”

He didn’t even ask how she’d known he was having trouble reconciling his Emma with the wolf. “Helps. I’m not saying I’ve got my head around it yet. But it helps.”

“The transformation is grotesque.”

His gaze ran up her pale, perfectly human legs. “Maybe for a few seconds. What you’ve got on either end isn’t.”

Her eyes locked with his. “You were afraid to touch me.”

“I didn’t know if it would hurt you.”

“Oh.” Her mouth softened. Her fingers, which had been clutching the blanket at her neck, loosened. “I thought we’d established that it only hurts when you don’t.”

The slice of skin and the pale curves of her breasts showing between the edges of the blanket undid him. Nathan pulled her towards him; she came eagerly, strad

dling his lap. Her mouth found his, then moved to his jaw, his neck. Her skin was hot beneath his hands. Her fingers worked frantically down the buttons of his shirt.

He thought about putting a stop to it. Thought that he’d always intended a bed for her, roses and wine — not the front seat of his truck. But thought that he’d never heard anything sweeter than her soft gasps and moans, nothing sexier than her growl when he slid his fingers down her stomach.

Her hips rocked, her back arched, her hands gripping his shoulders. She cried out his name when he pushed inside her. He offered himself to her just as he was, and took her just as she was.

Running a hundred miles couldn’t have wrung her out as completely. Emma hadn’t moved since she’d collapsed against Nathan’s chest, her body limp. Didn’t want to move.

But knew she needed to. With a soft groan, she slid from his lap. Nathan smiled, but he looked as shaken as she felt. Emma reached over the back of the seat for the bag she’d stuffed there before they’d left his house, not even trying to suppress the swelling emotion that constricted her chest, her throat. It was a sweet pain, knowing that it came from the wonder of fitting so perfectly with him.

It had been good between them. Better than good. Amazing.

Nathan finished buttoning his shirt, shoved the tails into his trousers. “I’ll call Osborne, let him know we’re heading back. You think Letty will notice if you sleep in my room?”

“Yes.” Emma fished out her panties and jeans. “But she’ll get used to the idea.”

Actually, Emma would have been surprised if her aunt didn’t already think that she and Nathan had been together all those years ago. She listened idly as Nathan spoke with Osborne, to Daisy’s faint bark in the background.

Emma hurriedly shoved her jeans back down to her ankles. “Oh, my God. Nathan. Get out to your place. As fast as you can. Tell Osborne to get to Letty’s room, and take his gun.”

He didn’t ask; he swung the Blazer immediately onto the road, repeated her instructions to Osborne.

As she removed her clothes again, she explained. “I can hear Daisy barking. She doesn’t do that - she never does that. Except the night after I was bitten. She barked like crazy the first night.”

Nathan nodded, his lips tight. Despite the two inches of snow that had fallen, a fresh set of tyre tracks led down the lane that her aunt shared with the Forresters.

“Oh, shit,” Emma whispered, then turned to Nathan. His gaze was fixed on the road. “I’m going to change. I’m faster that way, quieter. He’s probably still in human shape.”

“And he might have a gun,” Nathan said grimly. “So don’t you think you’re going anywhere yet. Emma! Dammit.”

She heard his curse, the slam of his fist against the steering wheel, then the agonizing crack of her joints as she began her change.

Letty’s place rose up out of the darkness like a gingerbread house frosted with white icing. Nathan glanced over at Emma, sitting up with her ears pricked forwards. “OK, I agree. You’re safer in that form. Harder to argue with too - which I’m sure you love.”

Emma turned her head and grinned at him before facing forwards again.

“There’s his truck,” he said, unsure if Emma’s wolf eyesight had picked out the extended cab pickup parked just off the lane. “He drove past the house. Then did he walk back to Letty’s or head out on foot to my place?”

Emma gave an uncertain whine. Nathan pulled up behind the truck and drew his weapon. “Stay behind me.”

He approached the truck slowly and noted the magnetic sign stuck to the door. Fuller’s Plumbing. He pictured its owner, Mark Fuller - tall, sandy-haired, easy-going - and shook his head. Jesus Christ. He’d played ball with Fuller in high school.