sheâd kept away from Darius, and how much of herself sheâd already shared with Maxâthe man whoâd shown her how to embrace her nature and revel in it. Safe in his embrace.
âYes, Max,â she promised. âSo much.â
His power swelled in response to her passion, flowing into her, and she enhanced it. The soul-deep thrumming that coursed through them was almost overwhelming. They would have to train, relearn everything they knew, find a way to control it. Together.
I canât wait to get started. Maxâs confident voice in her mind gave her courage.
The task ahead wouldnât be easy . . .
You donât like things easy, kitten.
Victoria offered her mouth to him and he took it, his chest rumbling with laughter as her lips curved against his in a catlike smile.
One
A quarter to midnight, the witching hour, Christmas Eve
T here was an indefinable something about the tall, darkly clad man traversing the sidewalk. That mysterious quality compelled lingering glances from every window-seat reveler in Richieâs Diner. He appeared not to notice, his gaze direct and unwavering, his purpose set and immutable.
It was hard to pinpoint what it was that arrested attention. Was it the impressive breadth of his shoulders and the way his inky black locks hung past them like a mane? Was it the way he moved with sensual purpose, every stride elegant yet predatory? Or was it his face, classically yet brutally gorgeous, all hard planes and angles, rigid jaw combined with beautifully etched lips?
Perhaps it was simply that it was Christmas Eve, a time when he should be home, warm and safe with the ones he loved. Not out in the snow, alone and unsmiling.
He had eyes of gray, like a brewing storm, and an air of complete confidence that clearly stated he was not a man to be crossed without penalty.
âThat man could fuck a gal to a screaming orgasm. Guaranteed,â Richieâs wife said breathlessly to her cousin.
âWhere do I sign up?â
The diner was closed to customers, yet filled to capacity with Richard Bowesâs family and friends. Children manned the soft-serve machine, making shakes, while the men cooked and told bawdy jokes in the kitchen. Frank Sinatra sang holiday songs through the speakers, and laughter filled the air with the joy of the season.
Pausing at the corner, the hunk outside held out both arms, and a lithe black cat that had not been visible from the window booths jumped agilely into his embrace. It had been snowing hard earlier and featherlight flakes still drifted in the random gusts, yet the animalâs luxurious ebony coat was unmarred by the weather. The man, too, did not appear to be wet or cold.
He held the feline with reverence, his fingers rubbing behind its ears and stroking down its arching spine. It climbed his chest and looked over his shoulder, emerald green eyes staring back at the diner occupants. Nuzzling the top of its head against his cheek, the cat seemed to smile smugly at the coveting gazes from women in the diner.
There wasnât a single Bowes female who didnât wish to be that cat.
For a long moment, the flashing Christmas lights in the windows cast rainbow hues on glossy fur and rich locks, creating a unique yet beautiful holiday scene. Then the man continued on.
He crossed the street and rounded a corner, disappearing.
Max Westin growled softly at the feel of a rough feline tongue stroking rhythmically across the sensitive skin behind his ear.
âKitten . . . ,â he warned.
Youâre delicious , Victoria purred in his mind.
âI can see why upper-level warlocks donât keep Familiars.â He held her closer to ease the sting of his words. âYouâre a distraction.â
Iâm necessary, she retorted, laughing. You couldnât live without me.
He didnât reply; they both knew it was true. He loved her with a deep, saturating abandon and relished the bond they shared