“It’s less than the risk of shifting,” I said, looking away to break eye contact. It was too difficult to speak with the anger I felt when she was staring me down like that. All brooding, with loose curls escaping her ponytail. She had no right to be so attractive and so wrong at the same time.
“You’ll be with me,” she said, no less frustrated.
“What? Are you going to look after me? What if you can’t even control yourself? Have you forgotten what happened yesterday?” I asked, turning back to the clothes to fold at the foot of my bed.
“You don’t have to worry about my control,” she said from directly behind me.
I took a sharp breath in fright and spun around to be met with Cole barely an inch from me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
She leaned over me.
There was no space to move away from her; the bed was directly behind me.
Cole moved closer.
I sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I have full control of myself,” she told me.
The air felt softer, sweeter, lighter, like I needed more to fill my lungs, to stop me floating away.
“How is your control, Harriet?” she asked seriously.
Pheromones.
“You think…” I inhaled deeply and fought the urge to close my eyes.
“I think… what, puppy?” she asked.
I leaned forward.
“That I can’t resist your pheromones,” I said.
She pressed forward, leaning over me, and I leaned back, back and back until my back hit the bed, and Cole was holding herself over me, her arms at either side of my head.
“Can you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
I couldn’t breathe without breathing her in. My head swam with the heady scent.
I twisted away.
“Stop,” I said, speaking against the quilt.
The weight of her hands on either side of me lifted from the bed.
The scent of Cole dissipated.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t believe what she had done. I couldn’t believe the impact she had on me.
It was humiliating.
Silence lasted long enough that I wondered if she had left.
“Are you okay?” Cole asked. She was still in the room.
