Page 28 of Fangs for the Memories (Budapest Bites #1)

H ere I am, in front of my werewolf mafia boss, in my underwear…again.

I should say something, like this is a rebound thing, like I’m too badly damaged right now to contemplate what my body wants me to do.

It very much wants Ferenc. Testosterone rolls from him like water, the delicious citrus scent of his cologne filling my nostrils, his handsome face all I can see. Those lips, those fangs, his hard, muscular body achingly close to my half-dressed one.

“I can’t do this…” I pull back from him.

“I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, kedves.” Ferenc drops his hands by his sides. “I understand how complicated this is.”

“I didn’t mean…” I sigh. “It’s not about”—I wave my hand in the air—“werewolves, vampires, demons, and gargoyles.”

“Then what is it about?”

I shove my hand in the coat pocket hanging next to me, pull out my phone, and activate the screen before handing it to him.

Ferenc’s brow knits as he reads the text from Lucy. I can’t help but think how utterly cute he looks when he’s concentrating, like he was when reading the paper this morning.

And it’s that sort of thought which is going to get me into far more trouble than I’m in already.

“Mark is the male who hurt you, who took your business, who left you when you were supposed to get married, right?” he rasps, handing back the phone.

I nod, a lump in my throat at his bald assessment of how shit my life is catching me unawares.

“Then why don’t you show him what he missed by breeding with me?”

My jaw falls open. I shut it with a snap.

Not in the least because his terminology sends a heated spike through me, pooling in my pelvis.

“Breed? With you?”

“Be my mate.”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“Werewolves mate, Grace. It is our bond, our fate, our way to ensure our line goes on.”

“You would want me to be with you, to upset my ex?” I stumble out the words. “Why?”

“Because you belong to me, whether you believe it or not, whether you feel the pull or not,” Ferenc rasps, his eyes blazing.

I don’t know the answer, so instead I grasp the lapels of his jacket and pull him to me, my lips hitting his as he takes me into a dominating kiss which I’m sure is going to remove all the breath out of my body.

Is this a good idea? Probably not. But I have a hot werewolf in Budapest who wants me. The last thing I thought I’d need, except, maybe he is?

Maybe it is fate after all. Or maybe, like Kezia keeps saying, I need to bang someone. And I could do a whole lot worse than Ferenc.

He slides his hand down my back until he’s grasping my arse, pushing me against him where I can feel the monster in his pants pressing against my stomach.

Damn it…he is absolutely huge. My core pulses with the desire to see if he will fit, but Ferenc releases me suddenly, leaving me gasping.

“I would mate you right here, kedves, but you deserve better. Much, much better,” he growls in my ear. “Get dressed, whatever you want, but leave the underwear off, or I will remove it with my teeth.”

I feel a gush between my legs. Knowing the knickers are already ruined, it won’t be a difficult request.

As quickly as he appeared, Ferenc sweeps out of the changing area.

“Grace will take everything,” I hear him say.

Katya replies in Hungarian.

“Yes, all of it,” Ferenc adds emphatically.

Is this what it means to be swept off your feet, and not to be lied to and cheated on?

I pick out a pretty boho style dress with a heavy lining for warmth, remove the underwear, and tuck it into the pocket of the coat.

As I do up the buttons, my hands are shaking. Am I going to do this? Am I really doing this? Am I doing it for me?

I stop. Pull in a deep breath to steady myself. I’ve gone this far, why not have some fun? I don’t know what’s around the corner, and recent events have shown me living for anything in the future is pointless.

Ferenc is here, now, and he’s offering me something I haven’t had for a long time. He’s offering me the opportunity to enjoy myself.

Although, when I think of what was pressed up against me moments earlier, if I can take it, I will absolutely be walking funny for a week.

I giggle to myself, the thought of it, given I’m not a twenty-something girl anymore and certainly not a woman who has had hot sex for a long time, it’s almost intoxicating.

I pull the curtain to one side, but only Katya remains in the salon.

“Good luck, little human,” she says with a smile which contains too many fangs. “Mr. Kóbor says he is waiting for you in the car.”

I look at the racks of clothes waiting.

“And these will all be sent on for you,” Katya adds. “You are a lucky woman.”

I hold her gaze.

“It makes a change,” I respond and walk out of the salon into the main shop.

In the elevator, I wrap my arms around myself, still not quite knowing what I’m doing, feeling completely and utterly out of control, as if I’m spiraling into an abyss, one where there will be no escape. One where I throw morals, caution, and common sense out of the window.

Am I doing this because of what’s been done to me? I don’t think so. Am I doing this to prove something to myself? Maybe.

And after all, what could possibly go wrong?

It’s not like I’m ready to fall in love with anyone.