My holiday present to you: a snippet of Black Moon. I'm still crossing my fingers it'll be finished and released by January 13, 2012, but we'll have to wait and see. Please remember this scene is subject to change at any time, and it's in rough draft. Hope you enjoy! ;)
Ignoring his statement, I do something totally out of character: I lean toward him . . . and sniff. Why this impulse came over me, I may never know. But what I do know is that I had to do it.
He jerks back. “What the hell, Candra? Keep your animal side in check. That’s just creepy.”
Instead of taking his advice, I do the exact opposite—I yank on his shirt so that he and I are chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh. Then I smell him again while resting my cheek against his torso. He turns his head away, embarrassed, I suppose.
“Sorry, but you smell delicious,” I say, still clinging to his shirt with my hands. I even close my eyes every time I inhale.
“Stop it,” he demands, but makes no action to block me.
I watch him, then. He won’t look at me; like he’s afraid I’ll find out his deepest, darkest secret. Maybe he is hiding something. Maybe this is my way of finding out. Seeing him so vulnerable empowers me to carry on, so I run a finger from his neck to his waist, taking my sweet time, stopping at a couple of points along the way. His breath hitches when I reach the top of his boxers, and he grabs my wrists, anger flaring behind his eyes as they lock with mine.
“I said stop,” he commands through clenched teeth.
Even though he’s mad, there’s a cavernous part of me that wants to continue, that’s forcing me to find his weakness. What is it, exactly?
“Ben,” I fuss, “you don’t really want me to stop, do you?” I curl my lower lip into a pout, peeking up at him through my lashes.
His eyes expand and then return to normal. “Damn it,” he mumbles, releasing my wrists. Hands on hips, he takes a couple of steps away from me. One of his hands to run over his face like he’s wiping something away. “We can’t do this, Candra. This is bad. Very bad.”
Okay, now I have no idea what he’s talking about. I was just messing with him. “What?”
“You’re, ah, you’re going to have some desires that, um, aren’t normal. God, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you right now.” He covers his eyes with one hand, but continues talking. “When you turn, everything is heightened—all of your senses, wants, needs.” He uncovers his face to look at me. What he sees, I’m unsure, but it’s enough to make him question if I have any clue what he’s going on about.
“Okay, I get it,” I say. “But I didn’t mean to force your werewolf hormones to ride the never-ending sexual Ferris wheel.”
“Candra! God, seriously . . .”
I snort. “You really don’t like talking about this stuff, do you?”
He moves forward, just a couple of steps closer, but not as close as we were. “My family is upstairs. If they wanted, they could listen to all of our conversations.”
“And everything else, right?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.
Having caught him red-handed, I smirk. I saunter toward him exactly the same way he did with me days ago in my room. His retreats, back striking the stone wall, entire body tensing the nearer I become. Close, yes, but not close enough to touch. Knowing this aggravates his cravings, and that it’s pushing him to the brink of self-control, I can’t help but test him. He’s the one who tricked me into this soul-mate mess, so why not have some fun while I’m locked up?
I smell passion, and the ample throb of seduction, radiating from his skin. He wants this.
Pushing myself up on the tips of my toes, I’m close enough to his mouth to leave an impression. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I whisper against the edge of his mouth. A small amount of whisker stubble pricks my lips. Pressing myself into the curves of his body, we’re molded as one. I flash sensual images of us together through my mind, knowing he can see everything, to tease him further.
He grabs me by the arms and tosses me to the ground, marching toward the stairs leading up to the main floor. I land on my side, next to one of the cells.
“What was that for?” I yell. Not what I had in mind.
His mental battle is apparent in the way he won’t look at me, and then his eyes illuminate a deep yellow before he charges toward me. Having no idea what he’s about to do, I scramble to stand and fight back. But he’s way too fast. He clasps my upper arms again, slamming me against the hard wall.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” he asks, out of breath.
This is what you wanted, Ben. You brought this on yourself when you . . . What was it again? Sealed the deal?
He breathes roughly through his nose. In and out. In and out. Glaring the entire time. It doesn’t mean you have to turn into a vixen and tempt me.
I move my head forward so that my lips graze his when I speak. “You love it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be putting on this show.” Besides, they can’t hear the conversation in our heads, right? So, why are you worried?
If they can’t hear me speak, they’ll assume something’s wrong.
You’re afraid they’ll interrupt. It’s not a question, so I cock one eyebrow.
Those black eyes of his bounce back and forth, scanning mine. Yes, he confirms.
What if they didn’t have to find out?
His turn to raise a brow. And what, exactly, did you have in mind?
“Well . . .” I pause, tracing circles on his T-shirt. “You could still talk to me, but it wouldn’t be real. As long as we keep the conversations going, we’ll trick them.”
He relaxes and grins, exposing his white teeth. “I like this idea.”