I moved to straddle Hunter’s hips and then paused. This was not my favorite position, and for a moment, I felt a flash of cold, clear thought: This is a bad idea. But then I could feel Hunter probing at my entrance, and the combination of sheer animal lust and inescapable familiarity overwhelmed me.
And then he pushed inside.
“God,” Hunter moaned. It had been over a year since we had last made love, and with a little shock I realized that my body had adjusted to Red’s larger size. I rocked my hips, and Hunter threw back his head again, gasping in pleasure. But my flesh felt oversensitive, aching, and even though arousal kept me sliding myself against Hunter, release—of this sexual tension, of my too-tight human skin—remained just out of reach.
Fucking sheriff and his fucking wormwood.
His hand on my hips, Hunter pushed me against him, directing me. “I can’t get any leverage, you have to move.”
I rocked against him, aware of a rising irritation. His words, the fit of his body, my position on top of him—everything felt wrong. Not the right mate. It was a body thought, straight from the bundle of nerves at the base of the spine. I was no longer aroused, I was disgusted, but having gotten myself into this, I didn’t feel like I could just walk out in the middle.
“Yes, ah, Abra, yes, that’s it,” Hunter moaned, oblivious to my lack of involvement. “Oh, yes, Jesus, Magda’s so rough, I’ve missed you so much, your softness, your … move faster now, yes, come on, girl.” And then he slapped me on the ass, as if spurring on a reluctant horse.
That did it. With a burst of anger, I stood up, sliding off Hunter just as his spine began to bow and ripple with the change.
NINETEEN
I locked myself in the bathroom, using a washcloth and cold water to clean myself off and wishing with all my heart for a shower. There was a whining sound from outside the door, and the scratch of claws on wood as Hunter begged to be allowed in.
“Go away,” I said. “Leave me alone.”
Hunter whined again and I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. In my new glasses, I didn’t look like the same woman who had loved Hunter and would have done anything to keep him.
Funny, how changing eyeglass frames could change your whole look. I pulled my hair back into a bun at the back of my head. Now I looked sharp and clever and decisive, the kind of woman who would never be stupid enough to have sex with a man she didn’t even respect. Crap, crap, crap. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. On the bright side, there couldn’t be much of a chance of my getting pregnant, but still. I wasn’t sure what disgusted me more: the thought that I’d nearly committed bestiality, or the fact that I’d just had sex with my bastard ex-husband. My only consolation was that being in estrus was like being drunk, except that there weren’t any twelve-step programs for swearing off your own hormones. I scrubbed until I smelled clean to myself, but I still didn’t feel clean.
Ugh. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I felt like divorcing myself.
“Abra? You okay in there?”
Oh, great, he was human again. The only thing worse than listening to him whine would be having to talk this thing out. Then I realized: He was human again. That shouldn’t have been possible. “Hunter, how did you shift back?”
“I don’t know. I found some weird-tasting jerky and ate it, and the next thing I knew, I was standing on two feet.”
Ah, the sheriff’s wormwood werewolf treats. “I’m assuming you’re all healed?”
There was a pause. “Yes,” he said.
I stared at my own unhappy eyes in the mirror. “Then please get the hell out of here.”
I waited a few minutes, deliberately taking my time to get dressed in the clothes I’d grabbed off the floor in the other room. I brushed my hair out, pulling out strands as I yanked through the tangles and knots. It didn’t bother me. I felt like tearing my hair out. When I finally opened the bathroom door, he was still there, wearing his jeans and looking through the bookcase in a way that made my hackles rise.
“I thought you were leaving.”
“I just was looking through your books and realized that some of them are actually mine.