Chapters (59)
- Cover
- More praise for MaryJanice Davidson and her novels
- Berkley Sensation titles by MaryJanice Davidson
- Dead and Loving It
- Copyright
- Acknowledgments
- Dead and Loving It
- Santa Claws
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Monster Love
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Epilogue
- There’s No Such Thing as a Werewolf
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- A Fiend in Need
- Author’s Note
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
She stared at him for a long moment. “Well. I have to admit, it’s the nicest offer I’ve gotten all year. But here’s the thing. I’m getting these ‘take the poor waif home and take care of her’ vibes from you, but I’m not sure you get it. My family died when I was a toddler, and I left the foster home when I was ten. I’ve been on my own a long time. I can take care of myself.”
“Of course.”
“And the thing is, there’s nothing I’ll—uh—do for you. You know. To stay at your house.”
“No, I wouldn’t expect you to.” And, fortunately, she was a good two weeks from ovulation. He’d be nowhere near his Change then. It could be problematic when a roommate’s cycle coincided with a male werewolf ’s, but he didn’t have to worry about that, at least. “There aren’t any strings, Crescent.”
“Well.” She finished her coffee. “I can’t believe I’m saying this. But we’ll try it. For a while.”
“All right, then.” He smiled at her, and she smiled back. He’d never seen a smile before. Hers made him dizzy.
Chapter 6
They walked in, and she was instantly dazzled—like the big Colonial house hadn’t been impressive enough on the outside. “Wow! How many windows do you have?”
“I have no idea.”
“Right. Sorry. It’s so bright in here!” She was staring; she couldn’t help it. Her first, jumbled impression was lots of light, a soaring living room ceiling, a loft, and lots of hardwood flooring. “You don’t even need to turn on any lights during the day. Not that you would.”
He was hanging his greatcoat in the closet. “I like to feel the sun on my face,” he said simply.
“Did anyone ever tell you, you live in a pink house?”
“A few have mentioned it.” He shrugged. “What do I care?”
She laughed. “I s’pose. It’s just sort of funny. I mean, you’re this big, super-masculine guy, and your house is the color of raw salmon. It’s a little weird.”
He smiled. It was disconcerting—like he was looking right at her. But of course he wasn’t. He probably knew she was standing by the door because of her voice. “Super-masculine?”
“Dude, you’re about the biggest, boldest guy I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you. And stop calling me dude.”