How to Flirt With a Naked Werewolf - Molly Harper [53]
“It’s my pancakes,” I told him solemnly. “They inspire loyalty.”
“Stop that. Stop making jokes when I’m talking about you getting hurt,” he said, looking me in the eye now as his fingers wrapped around my arm, pulling me closer. The warmth of his hand burned through my clothes and traveled up my arm. “You have to—nothing can happen to you, do you hear me? You have to take care of yourself.”
My brow furrowed at his sudden shift in demeanor. “OK, I’m sorry.”
“Promise me,” he insisted, the timber of his voice lowering to a rumble that vibrated through my chest. “Promise me you won’t take risks like this again. That you’ll stay inside at night, where it’s safe.”
His mouth was close, his breath gliding over my cheek like a caress. The heat of it, the intensity, had me dizzy. Everything around me was fluid motion and bleeding color. But Cooper remained still and constant.
“Promise,” he whispered huskily.
“I promise, Cooper,” I said, reluctantly pulling away from him. The loss of contact seemed to sober him. He straightened, his face smoothing out from the worried lines that creased it. He reached down to pat Oscar. My little sausage-shaped buddy shied away from contact with the recognized top dog.
Cooper sighed. “Let’s get you and Oscar home.”
He lowered into a crouch. I saw the light of transformation spread this time, starting with the skin over his chest and moving to the long, rangy limbs. I was so caught up in watching that he’d almost completely changed when I spluttered, “W-wait, what are you doing?”
“Phasing,” he said, looking annoyed when he had to switch back to human. “That bear could circle back, and it’s best if it sees a threat right away if it catches up to us. Besides, I don’t like walking through the woods naked. The limbs are dangerous to my . . . parts. And it’s awkward being naked in front of you.”
I nodded. “Agreed.”
Cooper phased fully this time, the light rippling across his skin, leaving black fur and sinew in its wake. He gave a short bark to Oscar. I had a half-second to wonder whether they could understand each other when Oscar fell in line with Cooper and marched through the brush toward home, the two of them sweeping my flanks like some canine military escort.
Cooper led us to the porch. As relieved as I was to see the warm, yellow light pouring out of the windows, the smoke rising from the chimney, I wasn’t quite ready to leave the woods yet. I had too many questions for Cooper.
I stood there staring at him. Cooper let out a sharp huff and jerked his head toward my front door. I guessed I was getting the kiss-off version of the werewolf good night.
“Um, good night, Cooper.”
Cooper whined and blew out another breath.
“Happy hunting?” I offered. This seemed to pacify him. He let out another sharp, commanding woof to Oscar, who answered back with two staccato yaps. Cooper nodded his head and darted away, his black fur melting into the darkness.
I looked down at Oscar, who seemed to be standing at attention. I rolled my eyes. “Did you just get left in charge of me?”
Oscar let out a deep growl that would probably be quite intimidating to squirrels everywhere.
“Great.”
10
Remind Me Not to
Lick Any Flagpoles
HELL ISN’T HOT. HELL is cold—eye-watering, tooth-chattering, razor-sharp goose bumps cold.
Winter started off small. Wanting to keep my coat on hours after I’d gone into the kitchen. Not being able to put my bare foot down on my bedroom floor without losing my breath. Then, one morning, I walked out the door, bundled into my thick down parka, felt the icy slap of the air against my cheeks, and ran right back into the house.
I was sleeping later and later each morning to avoid waking up in the dark. I was aware that my thin blood made the transition to cold weather worse. My pride was the only thing that kept me from arriving at work wearing a full-body snow-suit. But in the mornings, I would allow myself the luxury of burrowing under four full-size quilts and waiting until the last possible second to get up and get dressed.