The Mafia CEO's Possession Contract
She wore a dark robe that dripped a scent of dry herbs, damp earth, and sulfur.
Her eyes were fixed on me, two dark slits loaded with an ancestral malice. My senses hyper-developed by the serum caught her energy; she wasn't a she-wolf, she was something older, something forbidden.
Her nails, elongated and sharp like birds of prey claws, slid along the exposed skin of my bloodied arm, opening a fine groove that made me gasp.
“My... what a sexy specimen the desert has brought us,” Jasmine hissed, her tongue flicking across her parted lips. “You have a delicious musculature, Mark. It's a pity all this potency is reserved for that little Blackwood she-wolf.”