Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
The third mistake was having lunch with Madi before they were mated. She invited me as friends, and she was unmarked, so I had no idea she belonged to him. He told me in no uncertain terms to stay away from her.
So there’s been no invitation to join their pack. I don’t believe it’s because they’re bigoted and believe me “defective” like my home pack because after Billy saw Madi signing to me at work, he and the rest of the team promptly learned ASL. In my home pack, only my grandmother bothered to learn it. I learned to lip read and speak and did my best to integrate.
But being without a pack has its downsides. I have nowhere to run in the city. I haven’t shifted in months. My wolf grows restless, plaguing me with dream after dream of hunting.
Usually I’m hunting game. Sometimes it’s a beautiful girl with moon-pale hair and wide, unfocused eyes.
Like the one I saw step out of a limo with Aiden Adalwulf.
Their pack’s seeress, Billy said.
I dreamed about her last night.
She wore an old-fashioned filmy nightgown, and her room–or was it a prison?–was adorned with elegant furnishings from another era.
Her Sight took her beyond the walls of her castle.
Her sight took her to me.
She was sitting on her bed, but looked up at me with a gasp. I was both in my own bed in Soho and in her room at the same time.
“Noah.” She spoke my name with wonder. Not with her voice. Not with her hands.
With her mind.
She couldn’t be much more than eighteen, not that I’m a judge of she-wolves’ ages. She gave me a smile. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for such a long time.”
“Who are you?” I spoke using words in my mind, too.
Her smile was sad and mysterious. “You don’t know?”
I did know her, but in the dream, I couldn’t remember how.
I wanted to say yes because I didn’t want to disappoint her. I wanted to say I knew her. That I’d claimed her in a past life. Or was it a future one? There was something achingly familiar about her. Was she a ghost? A spirit guide?
Of course, I couldn’t tell her scent. Not in the dream. Maybe if I’d been able to catch her scent, I would know what she meant to me.
I just shook my head. “I want to.”
She ducked her head, tucking her hair behind one ear. Was that a blush on her pale skin? Surely a ghost didn’t blush. I suddenly became aware of her in a less-than-ephemeral way. I tracked the skin showing above the neckline of her nightdress. The swell of her breasts. Her delicate hands. Those puffy lips. My blood rushed south, below my waist.
“You will,” she told me.
I took a step closer to her bed. “Why am I here?”
A line formed between her brows, and her focus went blurry for a moment, then she looked at me thoughtfully and cocked her lovely head.
“The war is coming. You must decide which side you’re on. Find me before it’s too late.”