A light breeze carried the scent of stress, relief, and hormones across the parking lot. Students streamed out of the school building, yelling and cavorting in all directions, but I kept my focus on the front door, waiting for Emma.
More students appeared, girls whistling as guys tore off shirts in the summer heat. Tires squealed and stereos blared, making my wolf restless, but still I waited.
Finally, Emma stepped out into the sun—a pale goddess amidst a crowd of savages. A low growl ground past my teeth like rocks as a sweaty kid ran past Emma, hitting her shoulder and knocking her backpack to the ground, as he rushed to catch up with his friends. I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to run to her side…or tear out his throat.
Instead, I continued to lean casually against Emma’s car. After a momentary pause to glare at her assailant and retrieve her bag, Emma strode gracefully through the lingering crowds of students and speeding cars.
It still surprised me that she wasn’t one of the Old Blood. Emma was human, but she moved with the sinuous grace of a wolf, or a snake.
Emma hadn’t mentioned her ability to listen to snakes since the talent first emerged, but I noticed how she went rigid and cocked her head to one side whenever a snake was near. She may prefer to keep her newfound gift to herself, but I knew it continued to flummox her. Our animals, my wolf and her snake, were something we needed to discuss further. I wanted to know everything about her, and vice versa, but Emma had a way of distracting me from things like talking.
Like she was doing now.
“Kiss me,” Emma said. She dropped her bag on the pavement and grabbed the front of my shirt.
“Bad day?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. I wanted to fulfill her demands, but it seemed polite to ask about her day.
“The worst,” she said. “No more talking.”
Emma reached up, fingertips trailing teasingly along my neck, then plunging her hands into my hair as she pulled my lips onto hers. Emma may not be a werewolf, but she had her own teeth and claws—and knew how to use them.
Her fingers released as our kiss deepened, nails following a return track down my neck to follow my spine. Hands resting on my hips, Emma pulled away far enough so that our eyes met. With a mischievous smile, she nipped playfully at the scar on the edge of my lips then proceeded to drive me crazy with another long kiss. Fingernails dug into my back, arms pulling me closer.
When we finally parted, Emma trembled and I was panting like the wolf that I am. But I didn’t drool, much.
“Sorry you had a bad day,” I said, breathing in the scent of Emma’s shampoo as I whispered into her hair.
“It’s getting better,” she said.
Yes, it certainly was.