Page 17 of Midlife Animal Rescuer Wolf

In the corner of her vision, she saw Bryon pull the bathrobe around his body, covering up his erection, and almost let out a sigh of relief. She turned to face him again, helping him to his feet, and they continued in the direction they’d been heading, neither of them saying a word about what had just happened between them.

And for good reason: it shouldn’t have happened.

That was a dumb risk you took there, Miranda, she scolded herself, frowning up ahead. I can’t believe you let your guard down like that.

She couldn’t believe how easily she’d given in to Bryon’s kiss either. God, how could she have been so easy? And what were the odds it wouldn’t happen again? Her insides fluttered slightly. If Bryon tried to kiss her again, there was no guarantee that she’d be able to resist him. And from the look of things, they were both going to be in these woods for a while.

She swallowed, feeling a ball of heat in the depths of her belly. Her lips and neck still tingled from his kisses, and all she had to do was slip her fingers between her thighs to feel the pool he’d left there. She bit her lip, remembering the feel of his fingers on her, guiding her to climax, the feel of his erection against her...

No wonder she’d practically thrown all caution to the wind. No one had ever made her feel so good before—certainly not Jerry. Whether it was the fact that they were in the woods or that she was on the run from her ex, she wasn’t entirely sure, but making out with Bryon had been exhilarating, to say the least. She certainly hadn’t seen that coming.

And the size of him...

She fought the immediate urge to glance at his crotch, keeping her gaze straight ahead.

The man’s not human, remember? she chided herself. And you just went and let him kiss you like that.

That was right. Bryon was some kind of werewolf—no, that wasn’t what he’d called himself. A shifter. He was a supernatural creature, something that shouldn’t ordinarily exist. She’d barely understood or accepted what he was, much less the fact that there were many more like him all over the world. Getting intimate with him should’ve been the last thing on her mind.

It was a good thing they’d ended that when they had. They had bigger things to worry about.

At least, she did.

Chapter Seven

Ravishing Rhoda

“Dammit!”

The clothes lay in a heap on the floor where they’d fallen for the third time. Bryon balled his fists, gritting his teeth in frustration. The suitcase was way too small. He’d need another one to contain the rest of his belongings—either that, or he’d just have to throw everything in the back of his truck.

Oh, heck. He might have to do that, anyway. There was no telling what might happen if he headed down to the store.

Picking up his clothes, he glanced around the bedroom. His apartment had always been a bit too small for his liking, but tonight it looked more spacious than ever. No surprise there. He’d cleared out his shelves and wardrobe, stuffing as many of his belongings as he could into the suitcases at his feet. The walls of the house were bare now, most of his furniture already sitting in the back of his truck.

Bryon’s breathing quickened momentarily, but he managed to steady himself. Did he really need so much clothing? Or every single item he’d purchased or been gifted in the last eight years he’d lived in Phoenix? It wasn’t like he had a destination in mind yet. All he knew was that he needed to disappear.

He ran his fingers through his hair, gripping his locks for a moment. “How could you have let this happen, Bryon? This is all your damn fault. If only you’d just stayed put at that party.”

It had been only a few nights since Harold caught him mid-transformation, and things had already gotten so much worse. Bryon could sense it. A hush seemed to have descended over the town, and the few times he’d stepped outside his apartment, he’d caught more stares than he’d ever gotten at once before, very few of them friendly. Just yesterday afternoon, he’d walked into the diner two blocks over, and it had gone completely silent, like something out of a saloon scene in an old Western.

It wasn’t too hard to figure out what was going on. Word had spread about the night at the party, thanks to Harold. Bryon’s friend of eight years had turned into a complete stranger overnight, telling what he’d seen to whoever was willing to listen. In a matter of days, pretty much the entire town had heard about the incident.

In other words, it was over for Bryon.

At least, for now, which was why he was going to skip town. The way he saw it, it was in his best interest to take off before things got too tumultuous for him here. He could go off the grid for a while, at least until the dust settled, and then he’d return to this—

Wait. What the hell was he even thinking? Return? Didn’t seem like much of a smart plan now that he thought about it. What were the odds that the dust would ever settle? Harold seemed bent on spreading the word about what he’d seen, and from the look of things, he wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. So what if Bryon disappeared for a month or two? By the time he got back, the man would pick up where he’d left off.

The way things were looking, maybe coming back here at all wouldn’t be such a great idea. His best chance? Fleeing the country. A permanent relocation to some faraway town was a close second.

With a groan, he tried to stuff the clothes into the suitcase before him. The clothes wouldn’t fit. He was just about to toss them aside in resignation when he heard a knock on the door.

Bryon’s entire body went rigid. Could that be Harold?

His gaze wandered frantically around the bedroom. What did the man want now? The last time they’d had a conversation, it hadn’t ended well. Was he here for more than that? Bryon’s mind suddenly conjured an image of angry townsfolk, brandishing torches and pitchforks outside his door.

Not helping, he told himself, dismissing the thought.