Her taste is exquisite, uniquely hers, and it fills up every crevice of my body with an inferno of need. I push my tongue deeper into her mouth, and immediately, my traitorous mind imagines what else I could fit inside her.
No. That’s not possible. She would never want me that way. She could never accept me that way. Even if by some miracle she did, it wouldn’t fit. I would hurt her, either with my cock or with my claws, or maybe even my teeth.
I can’t hurt Peony.
I yank my head away from the kiss, realizing that I need to put some space between us or I won’t have control over what I do next. Gasping for air, I haul myself backward, tripping over my own feet until I’m up against the hot ovens.
Peony’s eyes are wide, her cheeks bright pink, her lips letting out heavy breaths.
“Rupert? Was I…” Her brows are pressed together in worry. “Was I not a good kisser?”
The sudden laugh that comes out of me practically chokes me. That’s where her mind went?
“Oh, no, you are an incredible kisser.” I cough, rubbing my throat. “Too much, perhaps.”
She frowns. “Too much?”
I sag against the oven handle, holding onto it so I don’t fall over. It bends a little under my weight.
“I may have the mind of a man,” I say in a more gravelly voice than I intended, “but the monster part of me is different. And sometimes I cannot keep it fully restrained.”
Peony blinks, her mind working quickly. Then, understanding dawns on her, and she offers me a small, fond smile.
“I don’t think you would hurt me, Rupert.”
But I can’t know that for certain.
“I’ve never done anything, with anyone, in this body,” I say, licking one of my fangs, unable to hold her eyes as I admit this. “I don’t know how it would react. What it would do. Whether…” I can’t even broach the idea. We’ve only kissed, and it ended so abruptly.
Peony’s eyes get bigger, and the red in her cheeks deepens.
“Oh. Okay, yeah, that would make sense.” She cocks her head. “So you’re kind of like… a virgin?”
I stare at her. What a thing to say. But at the same time, I think she’s right.
“I suppose so.” I curl my fingers into a fist to hide my claws. “It’s all new to me in this body.”
When I look up, I find Peony extending a hand to me. Reluctantly, I place mine over it, and she’s practically beaming.
What has made her so happy?
“It’s new to me, too,” she says, clasping my palm. “But maybe we can explore it together.”
A tingle ripples down my spine. Is she suggesting what I think she’s suggesting?
“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” I hedge. “I’m a monster.”
“Stop it, Rupert,” she says sharply. “Is it so hard to imagine that maybe I like you?”
Of course it is. She’s a beautiful woman and I’m… whatever I am. An abomination. So I don’t answer her.
“Hmm.” Her other hand reaches up to brush across my cheek. “Well, I do like you. So tough it up, buttercup.”
Instead of kissing her again, as I want to do so badly, I crouch down and wrap my arms around her, bringing her in close to my chest. She nuzzles her face into my mane, returning my embrace with her hands around my neck.
When I sense I feel happy for the first time in years—a dread washes over me. How long will this last?
That night, Kellen joins us for dinner, giving us both funny looks when he sees us dusted in flour. I’m both peeved at his presence—there goes my hope of kissing Peony again—and relieved, because then the apple of sin is out of my reach. If I’m the one addicted to her, then Kellen will be my sobriety coach. Having him around whenever possible will dissuade me from any nefarious activities that might happen should Peony and I be alone together.
