It was fucking surreal.
four
EMMY
I was puttingthe finishing touches on my re-docongratulationcake when there was a knock at my door.
I glanced down at my phone.
No messages from my friends meant it wasn’t one of them at the door.
I was so sweaty and horny that all I had on was an apron and a thong, so I obviously wasn’t going to answer it if it was anyone else.
A cramp in my lower belly had me swearing and bending in half, squeezing my eyes shut and cursing through the pain.
Nope.
Definitely wasn’t answering the door.
When the pain subsided shortly, I turned back to my cake.
Whoever was on the other side of it knocked again.
Louder.
“Begone, Salesman,” I muttered. “I don’t want your pest control or solar panels.”
I lowered my icing bag to the cake.
The doorbell rang.
I huffed, biting back a yell of, “I’m not home!”
It rang again.
“Just breathe, Em. You’re fine,” I mumbled to myself, forcing a slow breath in and out. “It’s just hormones. Or werewolf magic. You’re?—”
The doorbell rang yet again.
“Dammit!” I yelled.
Then froze.
Hopefully whoever was on the other side of the door hadn’t heard that. I didn’t know how good my insulation was.
My phone started buzzing on the countertop. I looked down at the screen.
Unknown Number.
“Nope, not answering that either.”
I went back to the cake.
The call went to voicemail.
My phone buzzed again. It was a text this time.
Unknown
