Page 4 of Wedding the Werepanther

Kayla’s nostrils flare, her brown eyes snapping with fire, making her lightly tan face come alive. An impatient hand shoves a lock of purple hair from her eyes, and if she were a cat, she’d growl at me. She’s tall and solidly built, exactly as I like.All six feet of her vibrates with energy, her heady curves making my hands itch to stroke and pet. She’s gloriously beautiful and smells absolutely divine.

My heartbeat speeds. Goddess, I love her like this! My Kayla, so fierce and big and strong. She’s a force of nature, her will offering me a challenge I can never refuse.

“Yes.”The photos slide across the wall.“Marry.”

“No!”

“I’m happy to get married,” I say, a wide grin pulling at my cheeks. My tongue teases a fang, and I smirk harder when I see my witchy beauty’s eyes flick toward the movement, a flush of pink darkening her cheeks. She’s attracted to me—how could she not be? I’m magnificent.

Weddings are new to me, though. My people were stuck in our panther forms for three centuries, unable to shift, but now that magic flows freely again, I’m finally able to learn to live as a man. If a wedding will bind her to me, I’ll gladly marry her. Never one to give up an advantage, I’ll use anything to win my witch.

She will be mine.

“You…” The fire in her eyes dims, replaced by a hesitant look I don’t like nearly as much. Kayla gives an audible swallow. “You’d marry me?”

“How can you doubt it?” I purr.

The fire in her eyes sparks back to life, her lips pursing. “Because you act like everything’s a game, and marriage is as serious as it gets.”

I take a step back and let my gaze ramble over her, taking in the way her plump breasts strain the fabric of her soft shirt. I got Luke to make me a translation crystal that lets me read human languages, specifically so I can read those shirts of hers. Kayla’s jeans cling to her lush hips and thighs, tempting my touch. And her colorful sneakers depict a fantasy battle with wizardswielding powered staffs facing huge ogres. Does she know I’ve fought real ogres? Does she wear those shoes to secretly honor me?

As soon as I think it, I dismiss the idea. No. My Kayla isn’t one for subterfuge, even the flirtatious kind.

Perhaps especially the flirtatious kind.

Goddess knows, none of my charm has worked so far.

My eyes slide slowly back up her body to meet her flustered gaze, and I grin. “I can be serious. I think you’re seriously beautiful.”

“Oh, comeon!” She tugs at her T-shirt and lets out a huff of frustration. “I’m the cool girl who’s like one of the guys, but no one thinks I’m beautiful.”

“Then they’re fools.” I step forward and wrap a lock of her purple hair around my finger, delighting in its silky texture.

Kayla’s mouth drops open for several seconds, then closes with a snap. She pivots on the ball of her foot and marches away from me. I follow her through a formal dining room as she skirts past the long mahogany table and chairs to tug at the latch of each locked window. At the end of the hallway, she rattles the knob of the back door, but it refuses to turn. She leads me into a large, welcoming kitchen full of light, and its windows also defy every attempt to open them. It’s the same for her computer-filled office and the living room with its long, comfortable couch facing the largest television I’ve ever seen.

Muttering, she continues on, making a full circle of the ground floor before stomping her way upstairs.

“Are you really going to try every window?” I ask.

“Sure am.” She steps into the bathtub to grip the latch of the small window over it—one too small for either of us to exit, even if it did open, which it doesn’t. “There’s got to be something. Even if it’s really hard to find, there will be a way out.”

“How do you know?”

“That’s how video games work.”

“You’re the one who keeps insisting this isn’t a game.”

She glances at me over her shoulder, one eyebrow lifted. “Yeah, but you sure act like everything that’s happening here is one big game, and I gotta try something.”

“It is. All of life’s a game.” It’s not just about winning. It’s also about play and having fun. Though winning is about the most fun one can have. “You should try to have more fun.”

She shakes her head and continues on.

The next several bedrooms are full of antique furniture that matches the look of the house, but they all have a disused feeling, and a faint air of sadness comes from Victoria.

“I see why you need roommates,” I say. “The house is lonely. It wants to be full.”

“It used to be a bed-and-breakfast as well as a wedding chapel. Whenever I stayed here as a child, my grandparents always had guests,” Kayla says, rattling another window. “But that’s not why I need roommates. A house this big takes a lot of upkeep. I need the rent money. Which is why it’s so shitty that you ran off all the applicants.” She shoots me a glare.