Page 3 of My Boyfriend Bites (A Moonstruck Mating #3)

A pen-chewing Selene almost crossed out the last part. Given her ability to hermit and avoid people she didn’t know, she’d decided to bring a notebook and each day jot down three things that would get her out of the cabin and force her to socialize. It would be too easy to just stay in her room and read, but she’d promised herself, and her family, she’d try and mingle, even as it daunted. With her lycan secret, Selene trusted no one except those already close to her. However, currently at sea on a boat, she didn’t have them to cling to. Just herself. And strangers.

So many strangers.

They crowded the dining room at the breakfast buffet, coughing without covering their mouths, some grabbing food with their hands instead of using tongs—totally cringe-worthy. A good thing she could give a sniff to the things she chose to put on her plate, opting for those that lacked the scent of another.

Once she’d filled her plate, the next dilemma hit. While much seating existed in the massive space, the tables tended to be large, nothing for the person who wanted to sit alone. The idea of joining a noisy group of people had her hesitating while the conversation din rang in her ears. Overwhelmed, she fled with her breakfast to find a quiet spot to eat, not easy on a ship with sold-out berths.

She ended up down by the lifeboats, sitting cross-legged, her satchel by her side, book in one hand, picking at her bacon and sausage with the other.

A cleared throat drew her attention to a man in his forties or fifties dressed smartly in a suit. A strange choice on a tropical cruise, which, of course, reminded her of Dante. The man just wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

“I’m sorry, am I in your way?” She’d thought herself tucked far enough to allow passage.

“No, you’re fine. I’m looking for Selene McMurray.”

Hearing her name, she frowned. “That’s me. Am I in trouble?” She glanced at her porcelain plate, which she’d removed from the dining area. “I planned to bring it back when I finished eating. The dining room was a tad crowded.”

“You’re allowed to remove dishes. I’m actually here to inform you that your room has been upgraded.”

“Uh, why?” she blurted out.

“My employer noticed a vacant suite on his level and requested it for you.”

“Your employer?” Selene frowned as she tried to make sense of his statement. “You work for the cruise line?” Her confusion came from the fact his suit didn’t match the uniforms she’d seen thus far.

“No. I’m the personal assistant for Mr. Marino.”

“Who’s Mr. Marino?” she asked, only to clue in. “Do you mean Dante?”

“Yes, ma’am. He mentioned meeting you, and as I said, when he realized there was an upgrade available?—”

She shook her head and cut him off. “I’m sorry. But I can’t afford to pay extra. Please thank him for suggesting me, though.”

The fellow stiffened. “You misunderstand, miss. You don’t have to pay for the upgrade, as it’s already been covered.”

“Because Dante paid for it.” Her lips twisted. “No thank you.”

The man, his silvered hair cut short like his beard, pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, are you saying you don’t want it?”

“That’s correct.”

“Why not?” he blurted out. “It’s spacious and comes with added benefits.”

“As well as strings because Dante arranged it. While your boss seems nice and all, I’m a woman who prefers to pay her own way.” Not entirely true since this cruise was a gift from her brother and mother, but accepting a gift from her family remained a far cry from accepting a present from a stranger.

“I see.” The fellow obviously didn’t, given his expression of puzzlement.

“How did you even track me down?” Selene asked as she stood with her empty plate. She tucked her book in her carry-all bag.

“I’m good at my job.”

“Your job being?” she queried.

“Doing whatever my employer asks.”

She arched a brow. “That still doesn’t tell me how you found me out here.”

“My employer gave me a description, and it proved apt. I spotted you exiting the buffet and followed. Although I admittedly did take a wrong turn thinking you’d opted to eat on the main deck.”

“Too many people.” She grimaced.

“On that, we are agreed.” He held out his hand. “I’m Renard Montague.”

“Selene McMurray,” she replied, clasping it for a shake. “But you already knew that.” Although she did wonder how Dante discovered her last name. Then again, a man who would just pay for a room upgrade for a stranger probably knew how to grease the hands of the ship’s crew for information.

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider the room change?”

“While it is a very kind gesture, I’m not the kind of woman who can accept. As a matter of fact, it’s rather ballsy of your boss to even do such a thing, and I’m afraid I no longer feel it appropriate I meet him for dinner. Could you let him know I won’t be coming?”

Renard’s eyes widened. “You’re canceling?”

“I think it’s for the best.”

“But he was quite looking forward to it,” he blurted out.

“I wasn’t,” she lied. “While he seems nice, I’m afraid I’m not the type of woman he’s looking for.”

“And what type would that be?”

Her lips quirked. “The kind that would accept an upgrade and the expectations that come with it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a painting class to attend.”

With that, she left Renard’s presence, shocked and a bit annoyed Dante would have A) been so presumptuous as to think he could meddle in her cruise and B) sent his lackey to inform her. While some novels would have romanticized the gesture, she found it presumptuous.

Her mother, though, saw it otherwise. After her painting class—which had a few too many people drinking heavily for her liking—Selene texted her mother via an app that worked using the spotty internet on the ship.

Selene offered a recap of the experience thus far, including her meeting with Dante and what he’d tried to do.

Mother: You turned down an upgrade?

Selene: As if you wouldn’t.

Mother: Not if he was good-looking. LOL.

Selene: Oh he’s very handsome, and arrogant. Also rich from the sounds of it.

Mother: This cruise was about you having fun.

Selene: I don’t need a bigger room to enjoy myself.

Mother: Perhaps you’ve misconstrued his kind gesture.

Selene: Really, Mom? Don’t tell me you would have accepted.

Mother: …

Selene: MOM!

Mother: What do you want me to say? I love a story where a billionaire sweeps a woman off her feet.

Selene: This is not some kind of fairytale.

Mother: Why can’t it be? You’re assuming his motive.

Selene: Because I’m not an idiot.

Mother: You can’t keep being scared of falling in love.

Selene: Am not.

Mother: Ever since that boy in college, you’ve been finding excuses.

Selene: With reason. —That reason being in the midst of passion she’d almost wolfed out.

Mother: You’ve gotten better about your control.

Selene: I’ve got to go, Mom. Lunch is about to start.

A lie, but a great excuse to end the conversation.

Selene signed off and pursed her lips. Mom did have a point about her not exactly trying hard to date. Ironic, because she wanted someone to love. However, her control over her shifting proved tenuous. Strong emotions could trigger it, and that included passion. Cory in college wasn’t the only one she’d almost messed up with. There’d been a few other attempts, embarrassing occasions where, in the heat of the moment, she’d suddenly flung herself off the guy and run to the bathroom until she could calm herself enough to stuff her lycan side back down, and then abruptly ended the date.

Did she fear losing control with Dante?

Yes.

Would he be understanding if she suddenly cut things short?

Most likely not.

Which made her think of the medication she’d brought, courtesy of her sister. Athena knew of her issues and had gotten her a prescription for Lamictal, something meant to dull her emotions. Selene hated it, though. While it did seem to work, it left her feeling nothing. Not joy, no displeasure, just numbness. Masturbating while on it left her feeling as if she were detached—she also couldn’t orgasm. Strangely enough, when she did play with herself while not drugged out of her mind, she could come without issue, so the climax itself wasn’t a trigger, just the emotions involved with a partner.

Lunch proved to be the same scenario as breakfast. Too many people. Too much noise. She took her burger and fries to her room and ate on her balcony.

The cologne she’d have sworn she smelled the evening before had dissipated. So odd. She’d come out for fresh air and would have sworn she smelled Dante nearby. Apparently, her usually very astute olfactory senses had trouble discerning reality from memory.

She spent the afternoon reading. After all, she’d completed her daily list, except for the last. Dinner with Dante. Given she’d chosen to ditch that, she ended up forcing herself to go to the buffet wearing a sun dress and sitting with a crowd of older ladies who then proceeded to try and matchmake.

“Oh look, dear, there’s a young man who seems to be alone over there,” stated Frances, pointing at a fellow standing in line. The woman in her sixties, with her mauve-tinted hair and round cheeks, kept calling her dear.

“I’m fine, really,” Selene insisted in between bites of food. The quicker she finished her plate, the quicker she could return to her room.

“Nonsense, dear. Why, by your age, I was already married with my two oldest children.”

“Let the girl be,” piped in Jackie, whose white ensemble contrasted with Frances’ floral number. “Nothing wrong with being a single gal having fun. I didn’t marry until my mid-thirties.”

“Because you prioritized your job over settling down,” Frances tartly replied.

“Not every woman needs a man to be fulfilled,” stated Audrey, a black woman wearing a flowing red caftan, her smooth skin at odds with her gray tight curls.

“You do if you’re not planning to kill the planet with used batteries,” Frances hotly retorted.

“Don’t tell me you’ve not switched your toys over to rechargeable,” an appalled Jackie huffed.

Selene wanted to crawl under the table as the conversation suddenly switched over to sex gadgets.

The women around her suddenly grew quiet just as the hairs on her nape lifted. She smelled Dante’s cologne a moment before he spoke.

“Evening, ladies, I hope I am not disturbing.” Dante’s smooth interruption.

“Oh goodness, no. We always have time for a handsome man,” tittered Frances.

“Might I join you?”

“Definitely.” Jackie patted the empty seat beside her, right across from Selene.

Dante sat down but had yet to look at her. Selene chose to study the gnocchi left on her plate, chasing a slippery-sauced sucker with her fork.

“And how are you all doing this evening?” Dante struck up a conversation.

It led to a mad gushing as the three ladies competed for his attention, beaming and preening before his suave manners.

Selene finished off her plate—because, in her house, growing up, you always finished your dinner—before rising and uttering a bright, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you. If you’ll excuse me.”

She practically ran off before anyone could say anything, her brisk walk allowing her to quickly cross the dining room. Not quick enough, though.

Dante managed to get the door and hold it open for her before she could reach for it.

“After you.” He swept a hand.

“I can’t believe you ditched them like that,” she muttered, passing him by.

“Hardly ditched. Frances ordered me to go after you.”

Selene rolled her eyes. “Because apparently being single and childless at my age is a crime.”

“Do you want to be married with children?”

Given his playboy status, she said the one thing guaranteed to scare him. “Yes.”

“Then we share that in common. The difficulty being finding someone who can understand me.”

Hunh, they did share that commonality, with a big exception. She had a big hairy secret that took the right person to understand.

“I wish you luck with that.” She hoped it came across as a polite brush-off.

“You skipped our dinner,” he stated, keeping pace with her as she made her way to the elevator.

“Didn’t skip. I told your aide, Renard, I wouldn’t be coming.”

“Rennie also told me you refused the upgraded suite.”

She halted abruptly to whirl on him. “Because I’m not about to become your paid floozy on board.”

“Who said you would be?”

“Why else pay for me to have a luxury room?” She arched a brow.

“Because I can.”

“Taking pity on the poor girl in this economy?” she sassed, feeling her temper rise. Not good, as it led to her skin pimpling. She had to calm down.

“More like wanting to give you the option for more privacy. The concierge suites have their own lounge, a much quieter pool deck, deluxe dining options, and other amenities I thought you might appreciate.”

Those did sound good, but… “And in return, what?”

“A dinner or two… or three?” He offered a charming smile that had her stomach doing somersaults.

“And?” she prompted.

“Contrary to your belief, I don’t need to pay for sex.”

“Just companionship.”

He winced. “You caught me. I’m afraid those currently on my level are all quite elderly or married. I thought it might be nice if I could converse with someone who doesn’t start a conversation with ‘my sciatica’ or smell of liniment.”

“And you wanted me to join you on the geriatric level?” She snorted. “You’re something else.” She stalked to the elevator just as its doors opened. He slid in a moment before it shut.

“What are your plans now?” he asked.

“I’m halfway through my book.”

“What are you reading?”

“ Reaping Demons .”

At his blank look, she explained. “It’s about a middle-aged woman who discovers demons are infesting the world.”

“So, a news piece on the current state of affairs.”

She snorted. “These demons are the ugly flesh-eating kind, not the overpaid, lying bureaucratic types.”

“Sounds the same to me,” he quipped, and she couldn’t help but smile. He did have a sharp wit.

“Except in this case, by the end of the series, she’ll have vanquished evil, which I don’t see happening anytime soon in reality.”

“Do you believe in the supernatural?” he asked as the elevator reached her floor.

An odd question and she had to think fast. “I think there are things that can’t be explained by science, yes.”

“Such as?”

As they excited the elevator—together since he seemed determined to make conversation—she replied, “Ghosts, for one. I do believe they exist.”

“Agreed. What else?”

“Your turn,” she countered.

“I think that many of the creatures mentioned in fables and old tales have a basis in truth.”

“You think dragons are real?” she queried with a lilt.

“Yes, but that they were hunted into extinction.”

An interesting position to take. “What about the Loch Ness Monster?”

“A dinosaur that survived the extinction event. It is my firm belief there is a colony of them in that loch, which goes deep underground. Occasionally, one of them escapes to take a peek at our world. Your turn. What of shapeshifters and so-called werewolves?”

She didn’t stumble, and her voice remained steady as she replied. “Seems kind of unlikely. I mean a person metamorphing into a completely different creature? Not scientifically possible.”

“Then I guess you don’t believe in vampires,” he countered.

Laughter escaped her. “Ah yes, pale-skinned dudes allergic to sunlight who go around biting people and can only be vanquished by a stake to the heart or decapitation.”

“You forgot fire.”

“And holy water,” she added with a giggle. “I mean, how ridiculous is it to think that one religion would have the means of stopping a vampire in its tracks?”

“If you don’t believe in vampires, then why do blood suckers appear in fables around the world?”

“Because people were superstitious.”

“What if you were wrong and you met a vampire? What would you do?” he asked as they walked up the hall.

“Depends on if it tries to bite me.”

“And if it went in for a nibble?”

“Guess I’d have to go Buffy on its ass.” She paused. “This is my room. Thank you for walking me. Good night.”

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to join me for a nightcap?”

“I told you before, I don’t drink.”

“It doesn’t have to contain alcohol.”

She almost said yes, but a strange noise had her eyeing the door for her cabin. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

A press of her bracelet against the pad unlocked the door, and she entered to find water pouring from the ceiling.

She gaped.

Dante glanced past her and whistled. “I think someone sprang a leak.”

“My things,” she squeaked, racing to her tablet, which remained dry where it sat on a dresser top, but the clothes in the closet and other effects… She hugged the device to her chest as she stared in horror.

Dante had the presence of mind to call guest services, and in short order, maintenance arrived. Their verdict?

The toilet in an upstairs cabin had overflown, and a guest services agent apologized profusely.

Within the hour, she was several levels up in a huge and gorgeous suite that didn’t cost her a thing, part of the compensation from the cruise line for her things being ruined.

The “we’re so sorry this happened” also came with a credit at the gift shop for her to replace clothes, although nothing could be done for her soaked books—thank goodness she still had plenty downloaded on her tablet. One plus, she received access to the a la carte restaurant and private pool deck. Oh, and her new living quarters came with a sexy neighbor across the hall.

At least Dante didn’t crow about finally getting her where he wanted, but he did leave her with one tantalizing image. “I’m going for a night swim. Care to join me?”

Dante in swim trunks, bare-chested, and slick with moisture?

Rather than drool in public, she pictured the handsome flirt while safely ensconced in her new room. She imagined him while she let her fingers play, her orgasm quick, but not truly satisfying.

If only she dared to indulge in her desire for the real thing, but the risk remained too great. How she’d love to meet someone who could handle her—and the wolf.