Seduced by a Shifter(61)

At first she didn’t see anything unusual. A portion of the outside table and two of the four chairs were visible as were the steps and the whole left side of the back yard. A long shadow moved closer, followed by two smaller shadows, and then Ben came into view.

He stood at the bottom of the stairs, in profile, and she let out a small sigh. The man was breathtaking from every angle. His thick hair was beginning to curl and stood in tufts, making her smile. She knew she had a hand—two, actually—in that. In his untucked flannel button-up and jeans he stood tall, hands in his front pockets, his eyes crinkling with amusement, his sensuous lips moving as he spoke with someone.

Someone, or two someones, as she could make out the dual shadows, just not the individuals themselves, and they seemed too small to be her muscled body-boys.

She bit her lip, indecisive. Her piqued curiosity demanded she simply open the kitchen door and walk outside, but she didn’t know if that would be considered intruding or not.

Besides, it was really cold-looking out there.

Ben turned to go up the steps and, startled, Willow let go of the shade, stepping abruptly back and hoping like hell he hadn’t seen her spying on him. She moved to the fridge again, waiting to open it when he opened the door, her eyes wide and innocent.

No, I wasn’t spying, Mr. Anderson.

Ears twitching, she waited for his tread to cross the wood porch. Nothing. He should easily be at the door by now.

She edged to the door and put her ear to it, just in time to barely make out his low comment. “—only for a bit. I don’t want to leave Willow for long.”

Her head cocked. If he was going to go with his visitors somewhere, why come back up the porch?

Still listening, still no tread. Mystified, Willow made her way back to the window, once again pulling the shade aside with the tip of her finger. Her mouth dropped.

Ben was naked!

What. The. Hell?

Even as she stood there gaping at him, a shower of light encased his body. Her eyes snapped shut and when she opened them again, she immediately closed them. She shook her head and looked back out at the spot that Ben had stood not two seconds ago.

Where a tan wolf now stood.

The same tan wolf Willow saw her first two nights here. The same two nights Ben was stationed outside to watch over the cabin until his relief showed.

The same tan wolf pictured in Ben’s apartment.

Willow sagged against the wall as the wolf—Ben?—loped down the stairs, taking off into the forest, followed by two other wolves, their much darker fur gleaming under the moon.

Part of her brain immediately said Scott and Joe while another part went into meltdown.

“There is no way I just saw what I saw, or think what I think. Nope. Not at all.” She turned to the kitchen, looked around for help. “Too unreal. Too fantastical. Too, too....”

Groping around like a blind woman, she found the back of a kitchen chair and sank onto the cushioned seat before she slid in a boneless heap onto the cold linoleum floor.

“Full moon. Wolves. Werewolves. Oh God. I had sex with a werewolf.” Several times, in fact. Recalling those times and what they’d done, the hand pressed against her pounding heart flew to her neck. “He bit me!” Several times, in fact.

Jumping to her feet, she raced into the bathroom, flicking the florescent light on with an impatient jerk. Leaning over the vanity, she yanked aside the collar of her sweatshirt and probed at the bruise riding low on her neck, at her shoulder.

It looked just like a hickey. Desperate for a closer look, she climbed onto the vanity and all but shoved her face in the mirror. Were those teeth marks?

“Oh God. I’m gonna turn into a wolf.” She didn’t want to turn furry. And according to every werewolf legend spinning through her mind, it was every single month during the full moon. . Hormonal changes with her monthly period was enough for her, thank you very much. Drawing her lips back, she checked her teeth, then her eyes, recalling those times Ben’s had rimmed with amber.

No fangs, no amber, just normal teeth and clear blue eyes. Now she frowned at her reflection. “Why am I not turning?”

Groaning at herself, she hopped off the sink and into her bedroom, where she picked up her phone and dialed Scott. No answer. Joe. Again, no answer. When she rang Ben, the Music Box Dancer melody went off on the table next to the bed.

Oh, she was going to murder their furry asses.

She put on underwear and several layers of clothes, plus her boots, before heading into the foyer closet for her coat and gloves. Ben had stated he wouldn’t be long and when he returned, she would be there. The liar. The hypocrite.

She all but stomped onto the porch, pacing as she waited for his return.

Getting all up in my face about not telling him I was a virgin when he’s a freaking werewolf! How dare he? And Joe and Scott?