Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan by Jordan Summers Read Free Book Online Page B

bodies. “Neither am
I!” he snarled.
    Izzy snorted. “I’m not the one who goes fuzzy
once a month.”
    “I am never fuzzy!” he groused.
    Izzy took one look at his affronted
expression and laughed in his face. It was the wrong thing to do,
but she couldn’t help it. A picture of Tristan as a big, fuzzy,
white dog popped into her mind, and she just could not shake the
image.
    “Take it back,” he said softly.
    “No.” She crossed her arms.
    “I said, take it back,” Tristan hissed.
    “No.” Izzy shook her head. “Not until you
do.”
    His heated gaze dropped to her mouth, and the
tension between them changed in an instant. Suddenly the New
Orleans heat was nothing compared to the simmering air around them.
Tristan looked at her as if he wanted to eat her alive, and not in
a wolfie kind of way.
    When he stared at her like that, Izzy forgot
all about him being a werewolf and saw him as a man. Their kiss
came back in vivid detail. Izzy’s traitorous body softened and
swayed toward him, drawn by something primal.
    Tristan’s gaze grew hooded, and he crowded
even closer. Heat poured off his body, along with a spicy scent
that was unique to him alone. He unclenched his hands and reached
for her.
    If he touched her, she’d lose it, lose
herself. No! Don’t let him kiss you again. No matter how bad
she wanted to feel his lips upon hers. Izzy’s eyes widened as the
insane thought struck, and she took a step back.
    “We can’t.” She held out her hand to stop him
and encountered a wall of warm marble. Izzy’s fingers trembled as
she pulled her hand away from his bare chest. Was it her
imagination or had the color of Tristan’s eyes changed? “I’m
inferior, remember?”
     
    * * * * *
     
    Tristan took a deep breath, and his body
shuddered. It took supreme effort to tear his gaze away from the
temptation her mouth presented. It had been hours since he’d
claimed Isabel’s lips, but Tristan still tasted the honeysuckle on
his tongue.
    He thought about Everly’s vision. She had to
be wrong. There were many ways for information to be interpreted.
It didn’t have to be sex, though he couldn’t think of any other way
that bodies intertwined. And damn if that didn’t make him hard.
    Tristan glanced down at the front of his
pants and cursed. He wasn’t a little man. The snug sweats he wore
hid nothing.
    Isabel followed his gaze. If it were
possible, her eyes widened even more. She couldn’t seem to tear her
attention away, which wasn’t helping his current condition at all.
His nostrils flared. Her warm scent filled his lungs.
    She was still scared, but beneath the fear
Tristan smelled something else. Something utterly enticing and
overwhelmingly feminine. Isabel may not like him, but part of her
desired him.
    And damn if that didn’t make his job that
much harder.
    Tristan’s gaze raked Isabel. He could see the
definite outline of a feminine figure underneath her long skirt and
loose blouse. Hell, even if he couldn’t, he’d felt her body pressed
to his when he had kissed her. In that moment, whether she knew it
or not, she’d surrendered.
    The beast inside him roared to life. Tristan
shook his head and grabbed hold of his shadow side. He couldn’t
afford for his beast to escape. It didn’t think like he did. Didn’t
reason. It acted on instinct. And right now its instincts were
telling it to take.
    “Come,” he said. “We need to hurry.”
    He needed to get to Pierre La Fontaine’s home
in the Garden District. If for no other reason than to get a break
from Isabel’s company and regain his footing.
    She had him thinking about things Tristan
rarely contemplated. Work was his mistress, not wayward females
whose sense of self-preservation was questionable at best.
    He led her through the French Quarter to
Canal Street then hung a right. Trolleys ran down St. Charles
Avenue to the Garden District, along with buses, but Tristan didn’t
care to wait for a bus. He preferred the open air of