Little Miss Temptress

There is a beautiful young woman in the library who does not look like she belongs there. She would fit better on a painting, perhaps, somewhere safe where nobody else can touch her. Her name, he learns later, is Modesty, and she is a disarmingly beautiful creature, pink lips wet and pouting as she tries to reach for a book that is too high on the shelf. Her sleeve slides from her small wrist and he sees marks on her skin, bruises the shape of fingers that are much larger than her own. He startles and inhales sharply, picking up the scent of another werewolf on her skin, a sign that she belongs to another one of his kind.

A better man would walk away.

But he wants her too much to be better.