The female who bit me when I kissed her.
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching for the tissues on my nightstand.
As I clean myself up, my mind clears enough for strategic thinking. Ruby was in my room for a reason. Probably looking for documents, for any advantage in her fight to save those woods. The woods that represent millions in potential profit. The woods that will cement Porkwell Development as the premier builder in the world.
I can’t let her win.
I won’t let her win.
No matter how good she smells, how hot that kiss was, or how incredible she looks when passionately defending her territory.
I toss the used tissues into the wastebasket and pull my slacks back on. My body feels temporarily sated, but my mind is racing.
I need to find what Ruby was looking for.
I need to warn Percy that she’s using him.
Most of all, I need to get her scent out of my room before I lose my fucking mind completely.
6
Ruby
My apartment feels like a cage tonight. Not the cozy den I usually love, but a place where I’m trapped with thoughts I shouldn’t be having.
A pig.
I fucked a pig.
I kick off my boots and pad across the worn hardwood to the kitchen. Through the window, the trees sway in the evening breeze, silhouetted against the darkening sky. My tiny slice of wilderness, just enough to keep me sane in a world that’s increasingly concrete and glass.
“Get it together, Ruby,” I mutter to myself, yanking open the fridge and grabbing a beer. “He’s the enemy. Literally the fucking enemy.”
And yet… my body remembers everything.
I twist the cap off and take a long pull, trying to drown the memory of Percy Porkwell’s eyes when he’d looked up from his design plans last night.
At me. A wolf. The irony isn’t lost on me.
Apparently, my standards drop significantly when someone looks at me like I'm worth redesigning their entire world for.
My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, confused by my conflicting emotions. I set the bottle down with a thunk and roll my shoulders, trying to ease the tension.
Shifter problems 101: Your animal side doesn’t understand complex human bullshit like “he’s cute, but he’s destroying our ancestral lands.”
My phone buzzes. A text from my cousin Mara: "Any progress with the pig squad?"
I snort and type back: "Define progress. I didn't maul any of them."
I take a deep breath and drag myself back on track.
Priorities over horniness.
“Working with the land,”—as if Wolfstone needed the help of a pig.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I wander into my bedroom and flop onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in my pillow. Maybe if I smother myself, these thoughts will go away.
