She beams at me as she takes it. "Thank you very much." Her mom cradles her shoulder as they walk away. Angelina turns back. "Your English is really good."
I laugh and her mom looks embarrassed. "She's American, honey."
Out of nowhere, Carlos' scent fills my nostrils. It's happened at least a half dozen times a day since I left. I think it's because his essence is embedded in me now.
It could drive a she-wolf crazy.
Because I seriously don't know how I'm supposed to get over him when his scent assaults me at every turn. Even a continent away. Not that I ever forget, except that rare moment drawing. Everything reminds me of him. I remember the growl of his voice speaking low in my ear, of his large hands coasting over my skin. The way his eyes glowed amber when his wolf came to the surface.
And I wonder a million things about him. What it would be like to run with him in wolf form, what he would think of Paris, of my family, of my art. Will I be able to keep the news of this pregnancy from him and his pack?
I pick up my pencil and start to sketch again, only this time it's not Nike, it's a black wolf. He's snarling, teeth bared, fur standing up in a ridge down his back. When I finish, I smudge the fur around his ears and hold it at arms' length for perspective.
Goosebumps prick my skin. It's Carlos, but I don't know why I drew him this way. Do I think he's protecting me?
Or coming after me?
~.~
Carlos
I watch Sedona head into her hotel room and sag against a wall in defeat. Is it possible to go moon mad when you've already taken a mate?
Because I seriously can't stand being near Sedona but not with her. I'm feverish with the need to touch her, to get closer to her. I want to be the recipient of the smiles she reserves only for children. Thank fuck she doesn't smile at other males or they'd be dead before they hit the floor.
I know I'm not thinking straight. I'm drunk on need. I've forgotten what I'm doing here.
Or rather I've changed my mind a hundred times. Right now, my mind is set on winning Sedona back-not that I ever had her. But she'd been warming up to me back in that cell. If I could just get some extended time with her alone again, I know I can seduce my mate. The physical attraction is strong. We'll start with sex and build from there. I'll learn everything else about her and show her I can be the mate she deserves.
So. How to get her alone?
It's wrong. So wrong. But I'm an asshole enough to think I can pull it off. I head out of the hotel and find a sex shop. The kind that sells handcuffs. Bondage tape. Ball gags.
This could backfire horribly. Or it might be just the thing we need…
Sedona
I step in yet another puddle and rain water soaks my shoes and socks. It's rained all day and I'm not as excited as I expected to be walking along Montemartre tracing the steps of Picasso, Renoir, and Degas.
I don't even know how much of Paris I took in as I wandered the streets today. My chest aches like someone punched me. A few Frenchmen give me odd looks, and I realize my wolf is whining. The only time she's happy is when I think of Carlos-or fall asleep and dream of him.
This is Stockholm Syndrome. Right?
I stop at a sidewalk cafe to get some dinner and sink into a seat protected by a wide blue awning. Water pours from the edges, splashing my legs and gathering in little pools beside my table.
When rain comes in Tucson, we celebrate because the desert is always thirsty, but today it just depresses me. I stare unseeingly at the menu. It hardly matters-I don't speak French and no one seems to speak English-or if they do, they don't bother to help me-so I've ordered frites and chocolat chaud or cafe au lait everywhere I've eaten. I'm going to get sick of French fries and hot chocolate soon.
Carlos' scent swirls around me again and sadness stirs behind my eyes. Part of me wonders what our date would've been like, if I'd stayed in Tucson and let him take me to dinner. He would have held the doors and paid, like a perfect gentleman. That much I know. But would we have found laughter together? Would we joke? Tease? Would the same sparks be there between us that we felt during the full moon?
Hah. How can I even doubt that? He couldn't keep his hands off me in Tucson, and he was trying to make amends.
I stare at the cafe across the street, not really seeing anything or anyone. Not until my eyes meet the gaze of a man who has the look of a spy stealing glances.
A jolt of electricity flashes through me.
Carlos.
The man looks away, playing it cool.
Wait, is it him? I can't tell now, because he's turned his face away. But it has to be. The man has the same broad shoulders, same dark hair and bronze skin.
Fuck. Me.
What in the hell is he doing here? Has he been following me this entire trip?
I resist the urge to stomp across the street and sock him in the face. No, he doesn't know he's been made yet, which gives me the upper hand. If he wants to follow, I'll make it exciting for him.
I finish my meal and pay the bill, then play entitled oblivious American and walk right through the kitchen and out the back door, slipping into the alleyway behind the cafe.
Catch me if you can, I murmur through clenched teeth.