Page 47 of His to Hunt

“Well, I wasn’t going to let you try on underwear in a store,” he growls, meeting my nervous glance. “I had some delivered. It’s already upstairs.”

I immediately blush. “Victor!”

“Taryn,” he chuckles. “You may be a foolish little girl who plays with magic, but you still need panties to put on when I allow you to hide your pretty little pussy from me.”

The automatic doors slide open and cool air washes over us. I step inside and immediately forget how to breathe for a few seconds. Suddenly, I’m not thinking about his obscene teasing that would have made me want to run, instead of nearly creaming my panties.

The lobby is ridiculous.

Not tacky ridiculous. Not gold-plated toilet ridiculous. Elegant ridiculous. There are marble floors polished so perfectly I can see the lights reflected in them. Huge columns. Crystal chandeliers. Tall floral arrangements that look like they belong in a royal wedding instead of a hotel lobby. The whole place smells like fresh flowers, expensive perfume, and money. So much money.

I suddenly become painfully aware of my jeans. And my shoes. And the fact that my shirt has been washed so many times that whatever used to be printed on the front is now just the ghost of a pattern.

Why didn’t I just wear one of the outfits out of the store? My brain was so frazzled I didn’t even think about that.

“I look like I’m here to clean the rooms,” I laugh awkwardly. “No, I bet they have nice uniforms and a dress code.”

Victor stops walking. I realize my mistake when his hand tightens slightly on my back. Not enough to hurt, but enough to get my attention. Enough to make my body respond before my brain can scold me for being ridiculous.

“Don’t say shit like that about yourself,” he growls.

“I was joking,” I huff, shaking my head.

“You still thought it was true,” he says.

I glance up at him. The golden flame is faint in his eyes, but it’s there. A little warning flicker.

“You’re walking in here with me. That means you belong here.”

I swallow hard. “I’m not sure the other guests will agree. I’m not even sure I agree…”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls. “You belong by my side, and that’s where you’re always going to be.”

I want to argue, but the look on his face tells me I won’t win. I’m starting to understand that about Victor. He doesn’t argue like normal people. He just plants his feet and becomes a mountain.

A very sexy mountain. One with a black AmEx and murder eyes. I used to think Joe was the most dangerous person in my orbit. Now, I’ve been marked by the wolf who left Joe in pieces. At least I don’t want to cry and cringe when Victor touches me. No, I don’t want to cry at all. I just want to scream his name. This mating bond is like having common sense thrown in a blender, turned to mush, and poured back into my head.

And honestly, I’m hating it less and less.

The woman at the front desk straightens as we approach. Her smile is professional, but it flickers when she gets a good look at Victor. Again, I don’t blame her. He looks like a man who was carved out of violence and then taught just enough manners to be allowed in polite society.

“Welcome to Casa Lusso,” she says brightly. “Checking in?”

“Yes,” Victor says. “Penthouse suite. Victor.”

The woman types something into her computer, then her eyebrows lift for half a second before she catches herself. “Of course, Mr. Victor. We’ve been expecting you.”

Mr. Victor.

I press my lips together to keep from laughing. It slips out anyway. A tiny sound.

Victor looks down at me. “Something funny?”

“No, Mr. Victor,” I snicker.

“Careful, little girl.” His eyes narrow.

My cheeks are hot, but I can’t help smiling. “Sorry… Mr. Victor.”