Old Wives' Tale

December Ink

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 3,450
2 Ratings (3.5)

What is to be a mildly ho-hum Halloween shindig turns into a howling good time for Gloria when she stumbles across the odd, sexy and oh so intriguing lycan Gavin MacDonald. WARNING: Explicit sex and language.

Old Wives' Tale
2 Ratings (3.5)

Old Wives' Tale

December Ink

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 3,450
2 Ratings (3.5)
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Cover Art by Sommer Marsden
this is 13 pages to the beginning a what could be a really good book.

“How tall are you?” I breathed. I didn’t care that I sounded dumb. I didn’t care that I had just flipped him the bird and cursed him out. My heart did a drunken little two-step in my chest and something between my legs was keeping time.

“Excuse me?”

“Tall. How tall? Nine feet? Ten?” I babbled. Part of my brain had awakened and I could feel that part of me, the intelligent part, rolling its eyes with frustration.

“Six foot seven inches tall,” he replied. His speech was slightly stilted, halting somehow, as if English were his second language. “And you are angry.”

I blinked. What? I had been angry. Now I was mystified and ... what?

“And aroused,” he said and I felt the hair on my neck stand up.

“I beg your pardon!” I did my best to sound mortified. Offended. It wasn’t my best acting job because truth be told, it was true. “I am no such thing.”

He lifted his regal head, that somehow reminded me of a great cat, a panther perhaps, and sniffed. “You are. You are aroused and moist. I can smell your scent on the air. Your need. I could smell it before I stopped my car. Which was why I stopped. Now it is more intense. You are ovulating. You are in your time of desire.”

I gaped at him. Ovulating? In my time of desire? I wanted to laugh but instead I clenched my thighs together. Who was this guy? Count Chocula? He could smell my need? Part of me wanted to be offended; I took seriously the feminine odor commercials you see on TV. But it did not seem to be a problem. The way he was inhaling, it was as if he were taking in the finest, most expensive of perfumes. Creepy much?

“Listen, Mister—” I started.

“Gavin,” he corrected and took a step forward me. All that long hard length of him. Dark hair and pale skin and so much ... him. In my face. I took a deep breath and held it. Focus, Gloria, focus.

“Yes. Okay. Nice to meet you, Mr. Gavin.”

“Gavin is my first name.

“Right. Howdy do, Gavin. I’m Gloria. Now! Could you possibly move that car of yours so I can park and get inside where the alcohol is?”

“As you wish.”

Whew. Good. I nodded. “I wish, Gavin. I wish very much. I have a hankering for a few drinks that contain vodka and one of Jenna’s famous Spiderweb pizzas.”

He wrinkled his face at me as if I had said something horrible and took one more step toward me. Dear Lord, he was huge. “You smell very sweet when you are in your time of desire.”

I rolled my eyes. I was thirty. When wasn’t I in my time of desire?

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