Intertwined. Gena Showalter
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Bye-bye fifteen-year plan.
But maybe, just maybe, this is real, she told herself, part of her clinging to the hope. There was only one way to find out.
Mary Ann inched forward and stopped before she bumped into the creature’s nose. “There’s a difference between a wolf and a werewolf?” she babbled to break the silence. Do it. Just do it. Gulping, she lifted her arm.
Of course there is. One is merely an animal, the other is capable of being a man. Now, what are you doing?
Though she’d expected him to speak this time, she was still surprised and jerked away with a yelp. If she was wrong, if he was more than a hallucination, he could bite her. Maim her. Kill her. Don’t chicken out now.
“Don’t you already know what I’m doing? Can’t you read my mind? I mean, you can talk inside it.” A figment of her imagination would be able to read her mind, right?
No, I can’t read thoughts. But I can see auras, the colors around you. Those colors tell me what you are feeling, making it easy to guess what you’re thinking. But right now your colors are so jumbled I can’t see anything.
“Well, I plan on touching you. If you’ll just hold still, please.” Great, now she was issuing orders, expecting him to understand. Could this be a joke? Was someone filming this, intending to laugh about her gullibility later? Surely not. No way could someone fake projecting a voice into her head. “If you bite me, I’ll … I’ll …”
He actually rolled his eyes. You’ll what? Bite me back? With those puny teeth?
There wasn’t a reply that would intimidate so irreverent a beast, so she remained quiet. And he remained in place, not even blinking as she reached out again, her index finger ready to poke. She was trembling and hesitant. Finally, skin met fur. Soft, silky fur.
“You’re real,” she gasped out. This was no hallucination. He was real, and he was freaking talking inside her mind, reading her aura. How were those things possible? Even more unbelievable, he claimed he was a werewolf, capable of changing into a human. That was … that was … Dear Lord.
A moan escaped him. Scratch behind my ear.
Still too dazed to process what was going on, she automatically pressed deeper, harder, massaging him.
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