He paced faster, a growl stirring in his chest. Silas should’ve known better than to send a woman. Of course, all werewolf priestesseswerewomen, but that was just more of a reason why he should have been allowed to face his demons on his own.
Demons.
Jason dug through the drawer of his nightstand. His hand fell on a small box, a box with a snake on the lid. He hipped the drawer closed and crossed to his desk. As far as he knew, Grateful had destroyed the ring, but that didn’t mean Ryker wouldn’t have a replacement. Turning the box over in his hand, he referred to the sticker with the Lost Things logo and phone number stuck to the bottom and started to dial the number… and stopped.
He could smell her. She’d walked past his room. His erection kicked and his body ached with need. A whimper broke his lips.
Pocketing his phone, he glared at the door. It was too late for rings or potions. He needed sex, and he needed it now.
10
Selene squared her shoulders and screwed up her courage. Even though Jason was a royal, she couldn’t allow him to push her aside. She was here for a reason, and she was going to follow through with her commitment to Silas and to Artemis. The problem was, every time she looked at Jason—those piercing green eyes and that perfectly designed face—she felt a wave of inappropriate attraction. She was fairly sure it was an echo, left over from the ritual she’d performed. When she’d taken Nickelova’s curse into her body, she’d had a taste of what it would be like to be with Jason, and she’d be lying to herself if she said it wasn’t the single most pleasurable feeling she’d ever encountered in her work.
But she couldn’t think about that. He’d never get better locked in his room. In fact, he’d missed lunch and dinner. His growing physical hunger might exacerbate his symptoms. And there was more at stake here than just helping him gain control of his vice. Her future as pack priestess was on the line. It was time for the two of them to start down his road to recovery.
“Jason?” She rapped on his door. “You need to come out now. Have something to eat. Begin your therapy.”
Nothing.
“I’m becoming concerned. It’s been over twelve hours since your last meal. I need to know you’re okay in there.” She knocked again.
Nothing.
“Jason, you’re scaring me. I’m coming in.” She tried the doorknob. Locked. Of course it was. The lever-style door handle was the type mainly designed for decoration. Not exactly tamper proof. She removed a bobby pin from her hair and stuck it in the tiny hole next to the lever. She heard a pop and the handle gave way. But she’d barely had enough time to pull her hand away when the door flew open. She staggered back, dodging the swinging wood by mere inches.
From the belly of the dark room, Jason stalked toward her like a predator, chin tucked, shoulders hunched, tracking her every move. She barely recognized him. His presence had devolved to something purely animal.
“Jason, your eyes. Your wolf is too close to the surface.”
He inhaled deeply in response.
She hurried backward, hands raised. A growl rumbled from deep within his chest as he pursued her, his longer legs closing the space between them in no time. She scampered for the door like a rabbit fleeing from a hunter, a creeping apprehension spreading through her body. Jason’s skin gave off a sweaty sheen and his pupils were dilated. Selene wondered if he was fully sentient. And the smell, oh goddess, the scent of his arousal was a complex spice in the air that made her heart race and not just from fear.
Her backside bumped into the wall next to the door. “Jason, stop!”
He pounced. His larger body slammed hers into the wall, his long tapered fingers wrapping around her throat until his thumb stroked her pulse. “Let me out,” he rasped into her ear. His voice was not his own, more feral than human. The sound made her scalp tingle.
She couldn’t speak but she shook her head. No. She couldn’t let him leave.
His knee pitched forward, wedging itself between her legs and thumping the wall behind her. In this position, his thigh grazed her crotch, his body heat covering her like the world’s sexiest blanket. His weight pressed against her chest as he brought his lips to her ear again. “Let me out, now.”
She attempted to push him away but even with his diminished body weight, he was stronger than her. Her hands shoved ineffectively at his shoulders, the feel of his lean muscle against her palms awakening that thing within her she’d fought so hard to suppress. Why did he have to look the way he did? Against her wishes, her body responded, a rush of heat flooding her core.
He inhaled deeply. Shit, he could smell her excitement. He let go of her throat and caught her wrists in one hand, pressing them against the wall above her head. Was it possible for him to get any closer without being inside of her? The thought made her insides quiver. His breath coiled against her lips.
All at once, everything changed. She was no longer an acolyte of twenty-five in Jason’s apartment. She was fifteen, on a dirty mattress in the back of a truck stop, and a foul man was holding her wrists. The memory slammed into her, shaking her to her core. Any desire she’d felt quickly turned to fear, and her breath came in ragged pants.
“Go!” she shouted. “I give you permission to leave.”
Jason retracted immediately, grabbed his keys from the small table in the foyer, and left without another word. Selene pitched forward, catching her hands on her denim-clad knees. The walls wavered, the air hot and oppressive. No. It wasn’t the walls or the apartment. It was her. She was under attack from the inside. Panic. Anxiety.
She closed her eyes and thought of her anchor, that one supremely happy memory with the power to bring her back from the brink of a full-blown meltdown. It had been a long time since she’d needed to use it. But with her ghosts circling, the trauma of her past creeping into the present, she needed to employ the coping skills she thought she’d perfected long ago.
When she called on the memory, it was always the color blue she remembered first: a shade deeper than royal blue, but not quite navy. Edged in white, it was the color of a wall… no, a room. The blue room. Rivergate Manor. She was too dirty to be in that room but the man who had brought her there had told her to wait. He’d seemed nice.
“Hello, dear.” Artemis’s gray spirals seemed to pick up a hint of the blue, further emphasizing the color of her eyes. Selene thought she looked like an angel. “My friend tells me he found you living under a bridge. Where is your family?”
Selene shook her head.
