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Colton’s callused palm cupped my jaw as if it were a baby bird. As if it hadn’t been fractured a handful of times by supernatural creatures. It had even been wired shut once after a particularly bad brawl with a ghoul.

His intentions were clear. Colton was nothing but a gentleman, moving slowly as if he were asking for permission. Waiting for me to reject him. To come to my senses. As if the man in front of me hadn’t taken my virginity. Hadn’t seen me stumble through my own desires and eventually swallow them whole—though he didn’t know I did that.

But that wasn’t true; the man in front of me hadn’t taken my virginity. It had been a confident—overly so—boy with vanilla tastes and not much style.

The man in front of me might’ve still been vanilla, but the flare in his eyes promised he was now plenty experienced.

My heart hammered in my chest, my thighs tensing with desire. Colton leaned forward, brushing my lips with his.

The kiss was gentle, slow, coaxing. As if he were romancing me. Wooing me. I couldn’t help but compare it to the borderline savage way Dante and I had kissed. Dante wasn’t polite. He took. Ravaged.

It surprised me that I liked the slow, soft kiss. Colton’s tongue slipped into my mouth, still holding me carefully, though his other hand went to my hip, plastering our bodies together.

It didn’t occur to me until then just how large Colton was. Tall. Hulking. He made me feel small. Petite even.

Like the tiny cheerleader he’d forever protect, the person he would always stifle his darker desires for. Who he’d commit to a mental institution without question if he thought I was still hunting for wolves.

But if he found out who I really was, the type of wolves I was truly after…

He’d put me behind bars.

The thought alone doused me with proverbial ice water.

I stiffened, pushing Colton back. The impact of my ruined palms against his jacket sent stabs of pain through my damaged nerve endings.

Colton immediately stepped back, scrubbing his mouth with his hand, eyes flared with desire. But his features were also tight with apology.

“Haddie—”

“You should go,” I told him firmly.

My lips still tingled from the kiss. Warm. Safe.

When Colton stepped forward, I held up my stinging, bandaged palm to stop him.

“You should go,” I repeated.

I didn’t bother to remind him of his fiancée; he knew he was engaged. He hadn’t forgotten. He was a man. He just did what he wanted in the moment regardless of the consequences. Not unlike me.

But even I was coherent enough to understand what a fucking shitshow my life would become if I let Colton kiss me again. If I let myself feel anything for the man again.

It would ruin his perfect, little life.

His jaw hardened, as if he were going to try to argue.

But Colton, as always, remained a gentleman.

He even took his glass with him, rinsing it in the sink before he left.

I sat out on the back porch for hours afterward, chain-smoking, chewing on painkillers, and wondering what life would’ve been like if a werewolf hadn’t come skulking out of the woods and turned me into a bitch.

TWO DAYS LATER

It was three in the morning again. I was awake again. I was an insomniac at the best

of times—occupational hazard—but this wasn’t the best of times.

I had nothing.