After the war, London is in chaos.
Packs are battling it out for dominance in the streets, lycans are killing each other in illegal fight dens. The Royals are being murdered.
All Juliet wants to do is forget - forget Sebastien, forget the wa...
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It felt like every head in The Roaming Troll swivelled in my direction when I stepped through the door.
Their eyes were like a physical touch against my skin and little shivers began to run down my spine, tendrils of heat spreading throughout my body. I wondered if this was the way human strippers felt when they performed, like they could get off on the weight of their appreciation alone.
The music continued to pound in the background, all but drowning out the sound of rowdy laughter and conversation, but I barely heard any of it over the beat of my own heart pumping in my ears. The place was jam-packed; I could barely see the bar from my vantage point, such was the crush, but I doubted I'd even have to go that far to get what I wanted.
Hell, I could easily settle for getting it right against the door. My head flooded with images of my back slamming against the wooden frame, one hand braced against the wall as someone —
"Wow," I heard. "You need some help with that, love?"
I blinked as a face appeared in front of mine. A guy — lycan, I realised as his scent penetrated the perfume emanating from my own skin — raked his eyes over me appreciatively. There was something vaguely familiar about him that I couldn't quite place.
I swayed toward him without thinking, heat crawling up my spine. He was rough-looking, his face etched with silver scars and beneath the V of his shirt, I could see the hint of a tattoo — but that just added to his attraction. The muscles between my legs contracted, the sensation borderline painful, and his lips began to spread into a slow grin like he could tell.
He reached for me, his hands closing around my hips as he murmured, "I have a place nearby..."
Savage heat rolled through me at the feel of his fingers on my body. My hips ached with the need to push against his, my breath catching as I imagined how easy it would be to just lift my leg, for him to shove me back against the door and then —
The words, "Let's go," formed on my tongue but something — a niggling voice at the back of my head — pushed through the fog of heat swirling around my brain at the last second and I remembered that there was a reason I couldn't leave.
It's not safe outside. Have you stay here...
I shook my head dazedly. "Upstairs?"
I waited, already anticipating his acquiescence, but then I saw something pass over his face.
It was just a flash, so quick I almost missed it — especially in my current state — but some things were too deeply ingrained in me to ever disappear, even when I was out of my mind on pheromones.
Irritation? Impatience?
Whatever it was, it tripped an alarm switch in the back of my mind. A very, very dominant part of me was tempted to ignore it and follow him anywhere; the heat of his fingers seared into my waist, making my body pulse with feral need, and even if he wanted to kill me, at least I would die assuaging it, but —
