Kresley Cole - A Hunger Like No Other

She glanced away, but not before he saw her face flush. He thought he heard her mutter, " Emphasis on the wild ."

"Why did you no' tell your family what I am?"

"I would never want to worry them unduly."

"And knowing you are with a Lykae would worry them?" he asked, as though he didn't know how violently they would react to the news.

"Of course it would. They've told me about you. About what you are."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "And what am I?"

For the first time since he'd taken her, she purposely met his gaze. "Deep down, you're a monster."

Emma wears her fear like a flag .

That's what her aunts said about her, not cruelly, just with baffled shakes of their heads. Compared to them, she feared so much—and she was the first to admit it.

They were courageous, fierce, and each of them had a purpose in life—some to guard indestructible weapons that could never fall into the wrong hands. Some watched over a bloodline of a particularly strong or noble human family. They were considered guardian angels.

Emma? Well, Emma had undertaken the epic endeavor of…college. At Tulane . She hadn't even ventured outside of her hometown to earn her identity of Emma the Co-ed, possessor of a B.A. in pop culture.

She remembered one time when she was young, playing at night in her sandbox. Out of the corner of her eye, she'd seen the yellow glow of a troop of ghouls as they descended on the manor.

She'd fled inside, bursting through the door, screaming, "Run!"

Her aunts had all shared glances. Annika had appeared embarrassed, her stunningly beautiful face displaying a frown. "Emma, sweetling, what precisely do you mean by run ? We don't run from anything. We're the creatures they run from, remember?"

How surprised they'd been when Emma had wanted this trip abroad. How shocked they would be that her finger was very decidedly pushing the lobby button of the elevator to take her to the Lykae waiting for her. After she'd called him a monster to his face, his eyes had flickered, then he'd stormed out of the room, ordering her to meet him at the car downstairs.

The car downstairs . Holy shite, was she really going to do this? As she descended, she did a quick mental tally of the pros and cons of cooperating and leaving with him.

Pros. She could possibly use him to finally understand more about herself and her nature, and he would kill any other vampire in sight, thereby protecting her from them.

Cons. He'd never told her whether he ultimately planned to kill her or not. The Lykae might protect her from the vampires, but who would have her back against him?

Her aunts might never run—but Emma excelled at it. Until she got into the car with him, she thought, she still had a chance…

When she exited the elevator, she spotted him through the lobby as he waited in the drive. His gaze was already locked on her. She took a steadying breath, glad for once that she and Regin had bickered—it always fired her up, sometimes enough to make Emma throw down her pompoms and toe the sideline.

He was standing beside a black sedan, a black… Mercedes ? She raised an eyebrow. He'd rented what looked like a 500 series that was going to cost her a fortune to drop off in a different country. Werewolf couldn't find an S6 ?

Yes, he was a Lykae, but seeing him like this, she realized that no one would ever know he was of a different species. When he casually leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest, he appeared human, just taller, stronger, with some kind of inexplicable pull.

Although he appeared relaxed, his eyes were watchful, and the streetlamps lit an expression that was intent and never wavering from her face. She suppressed the urge to glance behind her for the woman he was truly devouring with his eyes.

Was this whole scary situation worth it just so she could experience that look? Just so she could have the knowledge of what it was like to have a man like that look at her as if she were the only woman in the world?

All her life she'd lived in the shadow of her aunts, who were so stunningly lovely that eddas were written about them. Though Emma's mother was dead, Emma was still overwhelmed by universal tales of her fabled beauty.

Emma was scrawny, pale, and…befanged.

Yet a man this handsome was giving her a look that could smelt metal. If he hadn't terrified her and attacked her—if he could be the gentle lover who'd cupped her breast and rumbled in her ear that her skin was soft—would she leave with him? Her eyes met his. This male had touched her and made her feel things she hadn't before, things she'd envied others. Merely nestling her face against his naked chest had been a new experience that she would never trade for anything.

Feeling bolder, she allowed her gaze to flicker over his body before slowly inching back up to his face. He wasn't smirking or scowling, but looked as if he was thinking the same thoughts she was.

She found herself drawn to him, her mind and thoughts shutting down, like she was disconnected from reality. As her heels clicked across the lobby's marble floor toward him, her body seemed to come alive. He stood fully, visibly tensing.

Her breasts seemed fuller. Her ears were uncovered in public, with only her long, freed hair to conceal them. She felt as though she'd gone out without a bra—she felt a little…naughty. When the sudden urge came to taste her lips, she did. He clenched his hands in response.

She wanted one thing from him, and if he could give it to her, shouldn't she risk the rest? She'd risked the shower with him for the same reason, and he hadn't hurt her then. No, in the end, he had kept his promise—

The spell was broken when a Ferrari, reeking of burned clutch, screeched to a stop behind the Mercedes. Two European starlets with perfect bodies clad in tight dresses spilled out. Perplexing, but Emma grew dismayed knowing he would appraise them just as he had her. The leggy blondes with bubble breasts spotted him and stopped in their stilettoed tracks, finally recovering enough to giggle loudly in a bid for his attention.

When it wasn't forthcoming, they pouted, and one "dropped" her lipstick to roll by his feet. Emma gaped as the woman bent down before him, then checked for his reaction.

Between her and Lachlain, she was the only one watching the scene—he'd never taken his gaze from her. But she had the impression that he was well aware of their antics. His eyes bored into hers as if saying, I'm looking at what I want . She shivered.

Having been completely ignored, the two finally gave up and shot Emma venomous looks as they passed. As if he was hers? As if she was keeping him from them? She was a prisoner—more or less! "You can have him, kitties," she hissed for their ears only. They blanched before scuttling away. She might be a coward against Lore creatures, but with humans she could hold her own in the tabby arena.

Now, how would she fare traveling with a wolf?

Lachlain had watched as Emmaline glided through the lobby, moving too gracefully to truly look human. He'd been struck by how wealthy and coolly composed she appeared—like an aristocrat. One would never imagine her timorous nature, because she seemed to have donned a cloak of confidence.

Then she'd changed.

He didn't know what caused it, but her gaze turned heated. She gave the impression that she needed a man—and he'd responded. Everything in him responded. But others had, too. Though she seemed unconscious of it, her sensual walk and movements lured every male gaze to her. In mid-conversation, they turned and stared, enthralled. Even the women did. Lachlain pinpointed each of their focuses. The women stared at her clothing and shiny hair; the men ogled her breasts, lips, and eyes, their hearts and breaths speeding up at her mesmerizing beauty.