Wild Wulfs 02 - The Untamed One by Ronda Thompson

Author:Ronda Thompson [Thompson, Ronda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, Witches, Werewolves, Fantasy Fiction, Romance, Gothic, Historical, Suspense, Erotica, Werewolves - England - London, Love Stories
ISBN: 9780312935740
Google: 37KwuivumrIC
Amazon: 0312935749
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2006-05-02T05:00:00+00:00

Jackson knew he should go after her. He’d been angry when he’d said those words to her. Frustrated. I hate you. Never had a woman said that to him. Well, he deserved it. He’d turned seduction into something cold and calculating when it had never been that for him before. The truth was, he was not the great lover, after all. He’d never had to put forth much effort. For one thing, he chose the kind of women who’d pleasure him one hour and another man the next. What his coin couldn’t buy him his scent could get him easily enough.

He moved to a chair and sat. He’d not done so well with Lady Anne Baldwin, either. He thought because she had spent time with him, laughed at his clever jokes, and seemed genuinely pleased to see him at whatever social functions he chased after her at she had fallen under his spell. He had fallen under hers. She was so gentle and beautiful and well mannered. Nothing like the whores he spent too much time with. He had almost gotten up the nerve to declare himself to her when she told him quite lovingly one eve that she thought of him as the brother she had never had. It had broken his heart, but he’d never told her.

Now he’d done damage with words much more hateful. Not that Lucinda had given her heart to him, but she deserved more than what he’d done and said to her tonight. And while he was being honest with himself, Lucinda was not just a means to an end. She might have been in the beginning, but he saw her much differently now than he had then. And he desired her. He was still hard with wanting her. She was his wife, for however much longer, and he’d treated her worse than the whores whose beds he once had frequented too often. For the drug they gave him. Belonging.

Lucinda was like him even though they were worlds apart. Maybe for once, she had wanted to belong, too. In this house, in a society that would once not give her a second glance. He ran a hand through his hair. Should he go to her? Apologize? Could he even do so without wanting to kiss her again? Wanting to touch her? Make sweet gentle love to her? No, not tonight, he decided. He still had the taste and scent of her on him, and no matter how hard he tried not to want her, he did. Instead, the great lover would go to bed. Alone. Again.

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