"I'm just not used to it," she explained. Her hand went to her neck, but she dropped it.
"Man, you cannot be real," the human said softly.
"Why not?"
"You just can't."
She laughed a little. "Well, I am."
He cleared his throat again. Offered her a lopsided grin. "Mind if I ask you to prove it?"
"How?"
"Can I touch your hair?"
Her first thought was to back away again. But then, why should she? She was tied to no male. If this human wanted to touch her, why couldn't he?
Especially because she kind of wanted him to.
She dropped her head down so some of her hair fell forward. She thought about holding a section out to him. But no. She would let him come closer.
And the human did.
His hand was big as it reached out, and her breath caught, but he didn't go for the blond wave hanging in front of her. Instead, his fingertips made contact with a lock resting on her shoulder.
She felt a blast of heat through her skin, as though he'd touched her with a lit match. In no time, the sensation traveled throughout her body, as if she'd spiked a fever.
What was this?
The human's finger moved her hair aside, and then his whole hand brushed against her shoulder. His palm was warm. Solid. Strong.
She lifted her eyes to him.
"I can't breathe," she whispered.
Butch nearly fell over. Good God, he thought. She wanted him. And her innocent amazement at his touch was better than the best sex he'd ever had.
His body shot into overdrive, his erection straining his jeans, demanding to get out.
But this couldn't be real, he thought. She had to be playing him. No one looked like she did, and hung out with those boys, without knowing every trick in the book. And pulling a lot of them on her back.
He watched as she took an unsteady breath. And then licked her lips. The tip of her tongue was pink.
Sweet Jesus.
She might only be a fantastic actress. She might only be the best whore anyone had ever come across. But as she looked up at him, she had him in the palm of her hand. He was buying what she was selling in a big fricking way.
He let his finger run up the side of her neck. Her skin was so soft, so pale, he was afraid he'd leave a mark just by touching her.
"Do you live here?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I live with my brother."
He was relieved. "That's good."
He brushed her cheek lightly. Stared at her mouth.
What would she taste like?
His eyes dipped lower, to her breasts. They seemed to have swelled and were pushing against the bodice of her fine gown.
Her voice was tremulous. "You look at me as if you're thirsty."
Oh, God. She had that right. He was parched.
"Except I thought humans didn't feed?" she said.
Butch frowned. She had an odd way with words, but then English was clearly her second language.
His fingers moved over to her mouth. He paused, wondering if she would pull away if he touched her lips. Probably, he thought. Just to keep the game going.
"Your name," she said. "It's Butch?"
He nodded.
"What are you thirsty for, Butch?" she whispered.
His eyes slammed shut as his body swayed.
"Butch?" she said. "Did I hurt you just now?"
Yeah, only if you consider raging lust a kind of pain, he thought.
Chapter Thirty-six
Wrath got out of bed and drew on a fresh set of leathers and a black T-shirt.
Beth was sleeping soundly on her side. When he went over and kissed her, she stirred.
"I'm going upstairs," he said, stroking her cheek. "But I'm not leaving the house."
She nodded, brushed her lips against his palm, and sank back down into the healing rest she needed so badly.
Wrath put on his sunglasses, locked the door behind him, and mounted the stairs. He knew there was a stupid, satisfied grin on his face and that his brothers were going to ride him hard for it.
But what the hell did he care?
He was taking a true shellan. He was going to be mated. And they could kiss his ass.
He pushed open the painting and stepped into the drawing room.
He couldn't believe what he saw.
Marissa in a long creamy gown. The cop in front of her, stroking her face, evidently poleaxed. All around them, the delicious scent of sex in the air.
And then Rhage burst into the room, dagger drawn. The brother was clearly ready to field dress the human for