Page 106 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Okay, but as long as that’s all he takes off.

Except, to my amusement and horror when he draws level with the first table of happy patrons, he yanks his T-shirt over his head and drapes it over the back of one of their empty chairs.

A stunned silence creeps slowly through the terrace, and it times with the burly Scot’s footsteps as he weaves his way to a little rocky path that will take him down onto the beach.

I push back my chair and stand. Everyone—and I mean everyone—is staring at him. Unable to suppress my giggle, I let out a loud laugh. Rowan turns then, and winks.

Seconds later, he’s stripped out of his pants and socks, and in nothing but his fitted boxer briefs, he strolls casually to the ocean.

Rowan’s body is… yeah, look, I don’t blame anyone for staring, but he just told me that I was his special person and now he’s sharing that perfectly rounded and biteable butt with all these strangers.

My hands form fists that pulse at my sides.

“No! Rowan! It’s okay, don’t. I get it, this is enough,” I call out, jogging the same route past the guests to the beach path.

“Not enough,” he tosses out casually, then bends over to pull his underwear off.

Cupping his junk, he turns to face me as he walks backward into the dark water. “I told you already. More!”

“Rowan…” My cheeks are bright red by now, I know it. Trying to escape the gaggle of heads that ping pong between us, I jog past all the tables and down onto the beach.

“Och, these people are looking because they’ve never seen the glory of a naked Scotsman, Milo, and I need them to be looking so they hear me when I tell them—proudly—that I’m choosing ye as my mate.”

What do I do? I have no manual for this.

No one’s ever…

It’s usually me who…

It’s very unnerving, experiencing the chaos the other way around. I don’t think I like it.

Rowan’s up to his calves in the water, and he’s hot as hell. All that pale flesh and sculpted muscle. If this weren’t so embarrassing, I’d definitely be lingering on that smattering of auburn hair that glosses his chest and trails down to his…

“Ladies and gentlemen of this fine establishment,” he suddenly bellows.

“Shhhhh!” I call back, frantic.

“I’ll only stop when ye join me in here, Magpie.”

Mortified. Stricken. Beyond. I look behind me, then back to the stupid ginger man-mountain who’s now waded to mid-thigh.

“I have an announcement to make…”

“No! Stop…” I hurriedly unzip my boots and toe them off. Next, I wrestle off my skinny jeans—these ones are not artfully torn.

“My name is Lieutenant Colonel Rowan Rangecroft…”

I straighten, then shrug out of his jacket that I stole, and Rowan’s whole demeanour instantly changes. Gone is the cocky bravado of a moment ago.

Instead, his eyes brighten to golden as his wolf pushes forward.

Confused, I turn first to look behind me, wondering what he’s seeing that I’m not, but there’s no one there. Creeping dread settles into my bones like a winter chill… Is it… me? Is it something about me?

Dipping my chin, I look down at my bare legs, and then at the top I’m wearing. Oh. Oooh.

In my defence, when I dressed earlier I definitely had other things on my mind, and I hadn’t exactly noticed which clothes I’d pulled out of my hastily packed bag.

“Ye went on a mission dressed in that?”