I sat on the edge of the bed, mesmerized by his magnificence. Lars caught me staring at him, and smiled. There it was again! I had picked up unspoken signals from him all afternoon, my instinct telling me that this man might be more interested in fucking with me than he was in guiding me north...
But as hard as I try I couldn’t figure what happened to me. And I stayed up for over an hour thinking about what could have made me act like a sex fiend even if it did pass. Then a thought struck me. Was that whole Werewolf myth true about the bites? Is that why he smirked when he made those comments?