Melt - Rique and Miranda (Complete)

2 - Who is That?

A/N - Possible self-harm triggers

Miranda

"Out, Wolf," I command.

"Sí, I know, Bella," Rique croaks sleepily as he stumbles in the dark searching for his pants.

"Hurry, before the girls start waking up," I snap, waving my hands to shoo him along when he pauses to toss me a hard glare.

I ignore his unspoken reprimand. The man has been sneaking into my bedroom for the last two months and rocking my world. He won't risk pissing me off. The sex is too good. If the aftermath of our nights is cold and brutal, well, who cares? I'm a witch. He's a wolf. When we aren't screwing we aren't compatible.

I stand up from the wrecked bedding to cross to my en-suite. Rique pauses his search for his clothes to stare at me as I sashay, nude, into the bathroom.

"Muy hermosa, bruja," he murmurs, his eyes fixed on my ass.

"Mmhm," I murmur. I admit this wolf is good for my ego. He calls me beautiful a dozen times a day, at least. It's mutual. He's gorgeous. Unfortunately, he's also got a reputation that precedes him. To put it simply, he's a hoe. Not that I can judge, I love his assets.

At least he knows to hustle and leave before dawn.

"Miranda," he appears in the doorway to the bathroom, chocolate brown eyes traveling over my body as I brush out my hair. "Come out with me. Have dinner."

"No," I reply simply, putting my hairbrush down on the sink counter to hide the sudden trembling in my hands.

His eyes narrow. "Why not?" he asks.

"Where would you take me?" I infuse my voice with snark and sass. "Dominoes? McDonald's?"

His sexy lips turn down. "You won't date me because I'm poor, chica?" he asks sharply.

I shrug. He is poor. He has maybe three or four pairs of worn jeans. They hug his ass and thighs deliciously, but it's all he wears. It's all he has. I'm filthy rich. Witches usually are, but that's not why I won't date him.

"I'm not interested in more, Wolf," I say casually. "You know that." I can't be. My mother would lose her damn mind if she ever thought I was serious about any man at my age, much less a wolf. Even worse, one of the LoboGris. I can hear her voice now, calling them a bunch of criminal dogs.

"Rique," he purrs suddenly. His accent melts my panties every time I hear it. It's easier to just be naked until he leaves. "Call me, Rique, Preciosa."

I suck in a breath as he presses his body to mine. He feathers his lips over my neck. Fingers trail down my side. "I'll miss you today, Bella," he croons. "Will you miss me?"

My chest expands rapidly. When I finally speak I'm breathless, but my words are harsh, "it's almost dawn, Wolf."

"Until tonight, Bella," his breath washes over my neck. He presses another kiss there, his morning scruff scraping my skin deliciously, then finally pulls away and lets me breathe.

He turns and walks away, scooping up his boots on the way out. Damn, he's a walking, talking thirst trap.

---

"I'm Cassie!" the bubbling unicorn glows as she introduces herself to Deanna with a smile. Gods, she's sweeter than a pixie stick. The True Omega, a Blessing, born into the ClearHowl pack of wolves is utterly bizarre, especially with the lurking men behind her with suspicion written all over their faces as they scowl at the Lambda Nu House behind me.