Lycan Contempt by S. Yule (reading fiction TXT) 📕

skin, and his muscles contorted and changed shape. Within seconds, he was leaping off the porch and into the woods in a ful out run. The forest was pitch-black; not even the moon was out, which told him a storm was coming, that and the fact that he could smel it and feel the heaviness in the air.

Good thing Connie chose today to fuck me over. If she’d waited any longer and he’d started his journey a few hours later, he would have most likely not made it home before the storm. By the way his skin was tingling, it told him it was going to be a bad one. Definitely groceries first thing in the morning. For now he would let the wolf he’d kept suppressed for so long—and al for that bitch, Connie—free. His ears twitched forward and his snout rose toward the sky before a lone howl eerily pierced the thickness of the air.

Kish had run in the woods for hours, and by the time he’d dragged his worn-out ass back to the house, it had been al he could do to stay awake long enough to shower and crawl into bed. He sighed when his head hit the pilow and instantly drifted into sleep . . .

He stood in the trees at the edge of the clearing and watched her. She wasn’t the usual type of woman he’d go for. She was short and had a few extra pounds on her rear and hips, but those extra pounds only made her curves that much more alluring to him. She wasn’t fat by any means. In fact, she was a tiny thing, but he supposed he’d gotten so used to dating the wispy model types that he’d completely forgotten what a real woman looked like.

And she was definitely the definition of a “real woman.” She held her hands out and spun in a slow circle with her face tipped up to the sky and her golden hair cascading down her back. The snow danced and twirled all around her, landed on her skin, then melted into glimmering water droplets. She took his breath away, and without thought, he started to go to her until logic pushed through to the front of his brain.

“Never again.” He’d promised himself he’d never fall for another woman after Connie, never allow himself to be hurt again. And some deep instinct warned him that this little slip of a woman could rip his heart into a million bloody pieces without trying hard at all.

He was no stranger to being hurt by women— women who’d professed to love him, who’d one after another sworn his scars didn’t matter. He’d always recovered, but a void was always left behind. Soon, that void grew, overlapped, and became one huge ball of resentment, doubt, and bitterness. One huge ball of fuck-over-Kish that was lodged next to his heart. He wasn’t a dumb man and was coming to realize that the void didn’t have everything to do with heartbreak. He could admit that some of it had to do with pride.

In fact, as woman after woman ultimately rejected him because of his face, he’d grown to expect nothing less of them, even though he’d try to convince himself the next one was different.

This woman, however, this goddess swaying in the snow as if she were a kid experiencing the fluffy flakes for the first time, was not shallow.

He didn’t know how he knew this, but it was so.

Maybe it was the way she appreciated the snow.

Connie and the others would have shrugged this beautiful act of nature off as if it were a trivial, bothersome thing. Still, he couldn’t risk his heart, his pride yet again.

She giggled and he froze. The sound caressed him with invisible fingers of warmth before sinking into his muscles, his cells, his . . . soul. The blade of fear sliced through him and he took a step back, ready to retreat when she suddenly stopped.

She turned slowly until she was facing him, and his breath lodged in his lungs. Her skin was clear and golden, her face was oval with high cheekbones, full lips, and thick brown lashes that framed the most gorgeous dark green eyes he’d ever seen. Her long, blonde, wavy hair was tucked behind small ears, ears he suddenly had a strong urge to lick and nibble. Her breasts were big for her size, but stood pert and round. His cock stirred, and he barely held back a groan.

What would she say now that she’d seen him?

How would her voice sound? The longing for the answer to those two questions kept him rooted to the spot. He held his breath, waiting for her to say something.

“Who’s there? I can hear you. What do you want?”

Her voice was low, husky . . . sexy as hell. He scowled. The trees didn’t offer enough shading for him to disappear into. She had to see him. Was she playing with him?

“Please. Who’s there?” Her full lips trembled after the words.

She was afraid, and he wanted to go to her and comfort her. He raised his hands and stepped into the clearing to give her a better view of him. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry I startled you.”

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name is Kish. Kish Frahm.”

She stretched her hands out in front of her, began walking slowly toward him, and that’s when he realized that she was blind. How could something so beautiful be afflicted with blindness? It wasn’t fair. A strange pang throbbed in his chest and he suddenly wanted to hurt something, someone for denying her the gift of sight.

He took another step toward her and guided her hand to his chest. “I’m here.”

“Oh.” She glided her fingers over the expanse of his chest and shoulders. “Oh, my. You are a big one now, aren’t you?”

He smiled, but when she reached for his face, he circled her wrists with his fingers to stop her.

“I’m sorry. I