Immortals After Dark 04 - Wicked Deeds on a Winters Night

lip as she surveyed the three underwear sets he’d seen—and probably felt, and who knew what else: recovering nymphomaniac, hooker, and playful hooker . Just ducky. The last time she’d ever go lingerie shopping with Carrow.
    She stood, marched over to his bag, and rummaged inside for the largest shirt she could find. When she pulled one out, she spied a folded letter with a broken wax seal. The script had faintly bled through and was feminine.
    What female was writing him letters? And why was it so special that he would bring it with him on this trip?
    She thought he was climbing out, so she closed his bag. Behind her, she heard him shaking his hair out, wolflike, and felt a few drops of water hit her as she stood.
    With her back to him, she maneuvered the towel, endeavoring to dress without revealing anything.
    “Though I could watch this all night, you should no’ bother with it, witchling. I’ve seen every inch of you by now.”
    She glanced over her shoulder, not knowing if she was pleased or disappointed that he’d slung on his jeans. “How’s that?”
    “I’m tall enough that when I was behind you, I could see straight over you. And my eyesight’s strong enough to easily see through the water.”
    She wasn’t modest, and this hiding her body like a blushing virgin wasn’t her front anyway. “In that case... ” she said, dropping the towel.
    He hissed in a breath. As she set about dressing as usual, he grated, “ No’ a bashful one, then? ”
    Bashful? She and her friends made Girls Gone Wild look like a quilting circle. “Just being charitable to aging werewolves.”

18

    P ert, plump arse, smooth thighs, slim back and waist...
    Bowe had never seen such a tantalizing figure in all his life. And he’d lived a long, long time. He was well aware that he’d been rendered speechless by the body of a twenty-three-year-old witch.
    And when she’d bent over naked for her towel? If he hadn’t been braced for what he’d known was going to be a heart-stopping vision, he’d have drowned, thunderstruck.
    Now, as he watched her slip into her wicked silk underwear and bra, he just stifled a groan and instead observed, “I never thought the saying ‘bounce a quarter off her arse’ could be literal.”
    “I didn’t think you cared for my ass. I believe you said I was scrawny where it counts.”
    “You said the same about me. Obviously, we were both mistaken. And I care for your arse verra much. My affection for it grows by the minute.”
    She shot him a glare, then dressed in his shirt, rolling up the sleeves because it swallowed her. He frowned when she drew out that second patch, applying it to a spot on the inside of her elbow. He’d had no idea what it was for or he’d have thrown it out in an instant.
    Contraception in a patch. And the damned thing seemed to be taunting him.
    After putting more wood on the fire, he sat beside it on the pallet, coaxing her to join him there. “Come, witchling, I’ll dry your hair.”
    “I can do it myself.”
    “This is still part of the deal, the deal you agreed to.”
    With a sigh, she joined him. Outside, the rain started up once more and began to pound all the broad leaves. Inside, the fire crackled, burnishing her long red hair with gold as he sifted it through his fingers, drying it into big curls. Now that he’d bathed her, the scent of her hair and skin was sublime, filling his senses.
    Yes, she could have done this herself, but he didn’t want to give up tasks like these. They pleased him in new ways, soothing the constant yearning he’d battled for years. At last, he didn’t suffer from that strangling sense of urgency—to find the means to bring his mate back to him.
    He felt his lids grow heavy, not only with desire, but with satisfaction . He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be content. The need to have her was still pressing, yet he savored even that. He’d rather endure unfulfilled lust, with the hope of slaking it, than the hopelessness he’d suffered for so long.
    He found he was able to push aside his reservations and just enjoy this, feeling as if he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He grew so comfortable that he didn’t believe his eyes when tears began to stream down her face.
    “Bloody hell, Mariketa. Why do you cry?”
    She swiped at her cheeks. “I’m your enemy. It should please you to see me miserable.”
    “Should. But it does no’.” She was... miserable? He racked his brain for what else she