Free Oycher by Talyn Scott Page A

you would feel better knowing your way around weapons, particularly after that steak knife incident,” he said under his breath. “Like I said before, it’s understandable that you’re uncomfortable around vamps and shifters. Why not take advantage of my knowledge and experience to help you adjust to incoming Donors?” With a teasing glint, he flexed his biceps. “Use me.”
    “Use you, huh?” Her gaze moved over the way he strained beneath his T-Shirt, the edges of the sleeves digging into his skin. She cleared her throat and took another sip of water. “Wait a minute, did you say shifters?”
    “Some of the incoming Donors will have shifter blood, I’m sure.”
    She pushed her plate away, leaning back in her chair. “Dax didn’t say anything about shifters.”
    “He doesn’t know what’s incoming until they are, well, incoming. Some can have even Lovci or Gryph blood in their veins along with werewolf. You never know.” He tilted his head, his arctic eyes glittering in the morning sun. “Whoever we help, they won’t be the ones who hurt you, Isladora.”
    Her scars started burning and it had nothing to do with werewolf heat. She could run forever and a day and vulnerability would always hang around, unless she did something about it. “I’m thinking…I’ll need some training clothes.”
    “I suppose so,” he agreed, his smile blooming. “As long as they cover you up, or I’ll get too distracted. Or kill the other males, if they look at you.”
    How could he make her feel so beautiful? Looking away from the intensity of his stare, she snatched a piece of his bacon. “And some work clothes.” The clothes she’d worn to college were well past second hand and all threadbare. “But nothing frilly and no heels, it’s impossible to run in heels.”
    “Good idea.” He picked her straight up out of the chair, held her to his chest, and whirled her in blurring blue speed into a nearby pool cabana. “We’ll save the heels for the pole I’ll have installed in our bedroom.”
    “Our bedroom?” She wrapped her arms around his neck, drawn in by the allure of her winter prince lowering her on a cushy chaise surrounded by a white-draped tent. A sea breeze kicked up outside, the soft fabric of the perimeter billowing out and then resettling. “You’re pushing it.”
    “I’m confident.”
    Isla never thought of herself as a mindless slut, but her legs, on their own volition, wrapped themselves around his waist. And she brought her mouth to his and kissed him as hard as she could, only stopping when his teeth clanked against hers.
    He stared down at her with his mouth parted, breathing between his canines. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. She’d never before seen a werewolf perspire. “I vote we skip today’s regularly scheduled activities and wing it.” He canted his head, and she spotted a slight tremor in his jaw, though virtually imperceptible, but it was there.
    She pursed her lips. “Like sunning on the beach or something?” Isla raked her fingernails over his nipple piercings, circling the loops. A growl left him and his mouth went to her neck. She hauled off and punched him in the chest, out of fight-or-flight reflexes.
    He exhaled sharply, pulling back, his brows pinching in the middle. “Looks like I don't have to train you to punch.” He flipped them.
    “Just don’t try to bite me again,” she threatened, riding him.
    “You need to get used to my canines, Isla.” His hands covered her breasts, massaging gently. “I’m not a vampire, but one night, I’m going to mark you in every way.”
    She wiggled on him, sensing something bumpy around his erection. “You’re going to ruin this by talking, aren’t you?”
    “Maybe you should have brought along some duct tape, if you wanted me to be quiet.” His careful hands left her breasts, whispering along her stomach.
    “I have a feeling duct tape would have been used against me.” She shuddered. “This heat is causing quite