Oh my… why does this mark feel like an erogenous zone? It should hurt, not feel like this. It’s not quite as tingly as between my legs, but I’d call it more tingly than my nipples. I give my head a shake. I have no time to ponder things; I need to get out of here. Maybe he’s turned back into a wolf and has gone somewhere to sleep for the day. I have no idea, can barely wrap my mind around this news that something from the movies, from story books, as well as from my crazy Aunt Nelle is actually real and has happened to me.
To say my mind is blown is an understatement. Aunt Nelle might not have been an absolute cuckoo bird after all.
I hear noise. Uh oh.
I carefully step out of the bathroom and get a few paces to where the hall opens up into the main room where I see him standing there at the counter in a pair of faded jeans, tan work boots, and a white with blue striped flannel shirt with only the bottom three buttons done up and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of his chest, his corded forearms, and the perfect way those jeans fit? It makes me feel woozy. I get a belly dip and I grasp the doorframe for support. He’s holding a bowl with a spoon in it.
“Back to bed,” he orders. “I’ll feed you breakfast.” He advances and I immediately retreat backwards into the bedroom I’d just come out of, feeling my way there with my hands as if I’m reading braille.
His eyes on me look… hungry.
I trip and he moves impossibly fast, catching me by hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me against his body.
Oh wow. He’s so warm.
He leans forward and kisses my lips and then my throat at that mark and I shiver.
“Into bed, my Ivy,” he says, and his eyes are sparkling with amusement or something.
I blink stupidly at him and sit on the end of the bed. He sits beside me.
Where have all my braincells gone?
I feel stupid. Stupid and blushing and not only hot in the face, but also hot between my legs.
He lifts the spoon and I see canned peaches in the bowl. He brings the spoon to my mouth with a small chunk of peach on it.
“Open,” he orders.
I obey.
He slips the spoon into my mouth and I eat a cold piece of canned peach.
“Fruit is my favorite man-food,” he says. “Do you like fruit?”
I blink and then I belatedly nod. Man-food?
“I eat these when I’m a man. I put them in the fridge last night when I turned the power on. I worried they’d spoiled but they’re fine, aren’t they? They’ve been here a while.”
I nod again as I chew and swallow.
He feeds me another bite. “Eat all of them. You need your strength, Ivy Savage. I showered and as soon as you’re fed, I want inside you again, want your scent back on my body.”
I choke.
He rubs my back and his handsome face is etched with concern.
“Careful,” he warns.
I recover, and whisper, “Savage? Why are you calling me Ivy Savage?”
“I’m Tyson Savage,” he says as if he doesn’t understand my confusion.
Does he think we’re married? How delusional is he?
He lifts my hand and kisses the top of it and then strokes that mark on my neck, making me shiver. “I’ll purchase a wedding ring for you today when we go for supplies if you like. I won’t wear one because I’d lose it during shifting.”
My mouth drops open.
He lets out a playful-sounding growl against my temple and his lips touch.
“Just one more bite and then I’m having you. I can’t wait. You can finish them after.”
He saws through a halved peach with the spoon and scoops it up into my mouth. The piece is big, but I chew it and as I’m swallowing, as I’m trying to figure out where to start with all the thoughts rolling around in my brain, he sets the dish on the table beside the bed that holds an oil lamp and a stack of dusty books before he flops onto his back and pulls me on top of him. The piece was so big and with the surprise of being lifted, some peach syrup has trickled out of the corner of my mouth. He sees it and catches it with his tongue.
He groans sexily as he licks his lips.
And now my crotch feels like it’s gone to hot mush.
My hands land on his chest as I gasp. God, his body is warm, and this chest is defined. His shoulders are absolutely huge.
I swallow the rest of what’s in my mouth, but not without difficulty.
His fingertips whisper across the mark on my neck and his eyes glow just briefly as he kisses me and then smiles. “How do you feel today, Ivy?”