Page 31 of Moon Destiny
I felt a little of that now as Hugh stood over me with a furrowed brow. We were in the forest beyond the house, and I’d been trying to shift for the past three hours.
“Okay,” he said after a deep breath that sounded a lot like a sigh. “Try again, but clear your mind this time.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” I asked, my voice testy. I was on all fours with a blanket draped over my back. It was undignified and unglamorous and a whole lot of other words that started with un. Unfuckingbelievable, for example. That one, too.
I shifted my weight to my knees, which made the blanket slip off my shoulders. I gasped and yanked it back into place.
Hugh pressed his lips together. “You don’t have to worry about the blanket.”
“Yes I do.” Because I was not letting him see me naked. Or, more accurately, aroused. Because even in this awkward situation, my body thought it was “go time.” Unreal.
Any hope I’d had of my desire waning had turned to ash when he knocked on my door this morning. His scent had hit me, and my libido had been firing on all cylinders ever since. It didn’t help that the sunlight was picking out the reddish highlights in his brown hair and turning his skin to burnished gold. He was also shirtless.
Scratch that, he was practically nude, his big body clad in nothing but a pair of tight gray sweatpants that tapered at the ankle. And judging from the very obvious bulge in the front, he wasn’t wearing underwear. Logically, I knew he was dressed this way so he could shuck his pants and shift quickly. But his near-nakedness was more of a distraction than my total nakedness. His shoulders were taut and rounded with muscle. There was more muscle packed across his broad chest and rippling abs. And he had these sexy indentations above his hipbones that drew my gaze like a magnet. If I hadn’t witnessed him stuff bread in his face with my own eyes yesterday I would have sworn the man had never enjoyed a cheat day in his life. I revised my earlier assessment about him looking like a sexy Clark Kent.
No, he was full-blown Superman. The Henry Cavill version, which had been genetically engineered in a lab to make women spontaneously ovulate.
A bead of sweat trickled down my back.
He squatted in front of me, and the cotton fabric of his sweats strained across his thighs.
Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it.
I looked.
“Brooke.”
“What?” It came out sharper than I intended, and I jerked my gaze away as my cheeks heated.
He sucked in a breath. In my peripheral vision, I saw his frown deepen. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow,” he rumbled.
“No. I can do it. I want to do it.” I glanced at him. “I’m doing it.”
I braced myself for him to argue. Instead, he huffed a laugh that was equal parts vexed and amused. “Stubborn.”
Our eyes met, and humor twinkled in his. “I prefer determined,” I said.
He studied me a moment. “All right. We’ll try again.” To my surprise, he reached out and adjusted the blanket so it draped more evenly across my shoulders. “Since you’re so determined to do it,” he added softly.
I could only nod. Because the look on his face was doing odd, fluttery things to my stomach. Slowly, he cupped my face in his hands. He stayed like that, his gaze locked with mine, with the sunlight shining all around us and the trees murmuring in the breeze. The world shrank to a pair of green eyes still dancing with humor. But there was something else there now, too. He looked at me with fondness, and his deep voice slid around me like a warm current as he said, “Change for me, wolf. Whenever you’re ready. CHANGE.”
And it happened. Heat built under my skin, rising and rising like a fever that makes you flushed and shivery all at once. My bones ached. My heart pounded—and the beat became a drum that shook my body. Shook the ground. Shook me to my core.
Hugh stayed as he was, his big palms cradling my face and his green eyes holding my gaze. I’m here, they seemed to say, although I couldn’t hear him.
Shouldn’t I be able to hear him in my mind now?
I didn’t have time to consider the question, because the ache had grown unbearable. I trembled so violently the blanket slipped to the ground, but I no longer cared. Nudity was the least of my concerns as tears ran down my face and my mouth opened on an agonized moan. God, even my teeth hurt. The second I thought it, my teeth moved.
Then everything sped up. Loud cracks filled my ears. Agony blazed down my spine, and my arms gave out. Hugh was right there with me, lowering me to the ground and brushing my hair off my face.
I groaned, but the sound was lost in a weak gurgle as my throat bulged, temporarily robbing me of breath. Knives twisted in my stomach, my legs, my arms. Bone slid over bone. The coppery scent of blood hit my nose. Immediately, my mouth filled with saliva. A different kind of ache sprang to life in my stomach.
Hunger. Dear god, was I hungry for my own blood?
My vision blurred, the sky and trees blending into blue-green blobs. A thousand tiny needle pricks raced across my skin, followed by a thousand more, and then everything itched worse than a million mosquito bites. I writhed, growling now, unable to ease my suffering.
“Almost there,” Hugh murmured, his voice like a balm…and a beacon. I latched onto it, my ears straining toward the sound. “You’re doing so good,” he said, as if he knew I needed him to keep talking. He didn’t touch me, just continued with words of encouragement, telling me I was okay and it was all right.
