Same result.
Dammit, he was so weak, he couldn’t even lift himself to a sitting position.
She chuckled softly. “You’ll need at least a few more hours to get back to full steam. The good news is, you woke up. Beyond that, are you hungry?”
The thought of food put his stomach into overdrive. He placed a hand on his abdomen. “I could go for a big steak. Ribeye, bone in. Rare. Really rare.”
“I’ll be back in a few.”
He watched her leave the room. She wore snug blue jeans which meant he had nice view of her ass. His body warmed up again, only this time he felt a growl form in his throat. He decided what-the-hell and let loose. The rumbling sound drove through the bedroom and straight for her.
The witch stopped in her tracks.
He smiled.
~ ~ ~
As she put her feet back in motion, Maeve trembled. She felt as though Braden’s growl had unhinged every joint in her body. She couldn’t even fathom why she was still standing upright.
She supposed it was a wolf thing designed to put a female on her knees. She’d heard stories about shifter males, how they liked to take their mates from behind and bite the back of their necks. A shiver tracked straight down her spine.
She’d always been drawn to Braden, even from the first time he’d come into her candle shop and grilled her about her witchiness. He was a six-five pile of muscle and bone with shoulders so broad she’d recently tried to compute the size of them. That had been two weeks ago. He’d caught her looking and had asked if he had something on his shirt. He’d made a big pretense of wiping non-existent things off his sleeves.
He was being absurd. “Don’t pretend women aren’t checking you out all the time. Why would I be any different?”
His smile had remained but something grew more serious than she’d expected in the gorgeous green shards of his eyes. “I don’t care about other women, Maeve. But I confess I like that you’re looking.”
Something about the way he was with her, direct and no-nonsense, had always appealed to her. She had a strong sense he respected her even if he disliked witches generally.
She felt lightheaded as she formed the thought,I want him.
She passed through her living room and crossed the stone floor to the spiral staircase leading to ground level. She had a kitchen in her apartment, but she rarely cooked. She preferred to take her meals with the Landing residents in the communal dining room.
She ascended the stone staircase to the right of her living space and took deep breaths the entire way.
Once on the ground floor, she headed down the long central corridor that led away from the emergency center and toward the hub of the facility. She could hear the chatter of those she’d rescued over the past few months. They were in the large central living space that was forty feet deep and almost as wide. From outside, she could hear the hum and buzz of construction equipment. She was building a large complex that would contain a hundred apartments, plus a gym, a pool, and a café.
One of her rescues was an architect who’d drawn up the plans. Another, a general contractor. A third had experience managing large apartment buildings. Most of the money for the project had been donated by several of her rescues, men and women of means who’d gone through theiralterprocess but who didn’t have the natural physical force to battle the more powerful of their individual species.
She loved her people and loved even more how those who stayed at the Landing worked hard to be part of the community and to give back however they could.
The biggest problem she faced was helping her rescues re-integrate back into their various home territories. Because of the violent drug culture prominent in Five Bridges, most people who’d been given a second chance wanted to stay at the Landing. They liked what she’d built and they felt safe. She didn’t have the heart to kick anyone out. So, she was adding onto her complex and would have a hundred apartments available in the next few weeks.
She made her way to the kitchens and consulted with the chef. She was a petite Mexican woman who made a knock-out guacamole and anything else she put her hands to.
“Let me guess,” Carmen said, smiling. “You need a twenty-four ounce, bone-in ribeye, rare, or would that be blood rare?”
Maeve shrugged. “He’s a wolf.”
“Blood rare it is.”
“Did Alfonso tell you?”
“That gossipy, freakishly tall man? Of course, he did. The whole facility is buzzing. No one can believe Officer Braden survived.” Her assistant-chef drew a fat steak from the fridge and brought it to her. She’d already heated up the grill so she tossed it on.
Maeve heard the sizzle and her own stomach rumbled.
Carmen turned to her. “You want a steak, too? You should eat. You’re still very pale, even for a witch.”
