The Way You Bite(5)

The wolf jumped up from his prone position on the floor and shook, fluffing out his coat. Between one blink and the next, his fur was completely regrown. She turned away to pull her lab coat off the exam table and shrug it on. When she glanced back to her patient, he was in human form.

“That was not part of our deal.” Her breath caught.

Stop staring.

Her eyes refused to break away from his sculpted muscles while her entire body went haywire. Sweat trickled down her back and between her breasts as if someone had turned off the air conditioner. The wolf rated damn near spectacular. And…wow, the man was proportional everywhere.

Her brain provided a detailed fantasy montage of this wolf’s hands on her. Everywhere. She also fantasized her share of touching back. But not just touching. There’d be biting and pleasure. It’d be hard, possessive, and driven.

With a mental shake, she took a step away from him. She didn’t harbor illicit fantasies about jumping into bed with a wolf. She liked her species. This amplified sexual attractiveness had to be a part of his ancient aura—some sort of trans-species enthrallment.

She squirmed to shake off the desire to be touched in a way she’d never wanted before. No other wolf would do. It had to be King Werewolf.

She’d never experienced a hint of attraction with Ambrose, who was old enough to be considered an ancient. Maybe it was because Ambrose wouldn’t be doing any touching until the moment he was forced to comply.

What was wrong with her? The wolf was the enemy.

He stretched his muscular shoulders, bringing into focus stylized lettering in an unfamiliar language across his back. Immodestly, he pulled his long, dark hair away from his face. He turned his head slowly while smoothing a hand down angular facial features that reflected deep European origins. His hand ended its trek on a manicured dark goatee. Then his lips parted into a seductive smile.

She couldn’t think. A giggle almost exploded, but she bit back the airheaded noise. Nothing flustered her when on the job. Until now.

Pull yourself together. Mind off sex.

She eyed His Highness directly. The diluted blue of his irises appeared icy, but far from cold. His intensity sucked her in and held her immobile. His brows drooped, and his smile dimmed to serious.

Foreign energy swamped her mind. Was he trying to deep read her?

Break eye contact.

She couldn’t. Oddly, she worried he’d read every mistake, every misstep, every bad ethical choice she’d made during her entire existence, and judge. She wanted him to find her on the right side of whatever scale he used, which made no sense.

With a mental kick, she slammed up a barrier and telepathically screamed at him, “Keep out!” After one forced blink, she pulled her gaze from his. She fiddled with the ear pieces on her stethoscope before draping it around her neck.

Her gaze bounced between the two guys. “Someone has to go out as a dog.”

“Not me,” the king rumbled in a deep baritone. His voice alone was enough to make a woman want to jump him.

Without warning, Eric stripped and handed over his jeans. He dropped several knives, his ear communicator, cell phone, and a gun on the bench. He, too, was a stunner, but nothing like King Werewolf.

“Aleksander Dimitrov, I presume?” She gritted her teeth and resisted his lure.

“It’s Lexan. Nice job.” He ran a hand over the sutures along his thigh and shoulder, completely at ease with his nakedness. The almost-healed gunshot wounds cut through several ornate tattoos. Even for a werewolf, his healing time was fast. As the alleged oldest of his kind in existence, it made sense.

“If you expect me to curtsy or something because you’re king…well, I won’t.”

“I’ll let you get away with it this time.” Lexan’s pale gaze, filled with humor, caught hers. His gaze dipped to her chest then moved back up to her face. The intensity in his eyes shifted to full-throttle sexual appreciation. Even though they were separated by more than four feet, his presence crowded her space. The smell of his blood mixed with the scent of male surrounded her, but not the stinky body odor she equated with most males, especially the Squad vamps. And not the heavily cologned stench of Ambrose. This was clean and attractive to the point of intoxicating. She caught herself swaying toward him.

She backed up another step and fisted her hands inside her lab coat, fighting a bizarre urge to touch him. Hormones continued to dump into her blood stream, activating a writhing need to get naked. Audience be damned. How mortifyingly inappropriate on too many levels.

A smile tipped the edges of his mouth. Primal. Sexual.

Those lips. He’d know how to put them to good use. And, the tongue he now pressed against the inside of his teeth. Pulses spread through her middle when his gaze dropped again in a slow, predatory scan. Beneath the oversized white lab coat and unisex blue scrubs, she felt buck naked in the wake of his head-to-toe.

When his smile deepened, she caught smugness in his gaze. He knew his effect on her. Maybe this was normal for females in his presence. He probably planned to use it to get his way. The need to smack him had her fisting her hands tighter.

She said, “I guess this means Eric goes out wolf? Someone will notice. The two of you don’t look at all alike.”

“You give humans too much credit. They’re not observant, and those who are will overlook subtle differences.” Said like an ancient with significant disdain for humans. Lexan continued the clothes swap, pulling on Eric’s T-shirt, which stretched a little too tight across his chest.