Chapter ThirteenFighting growing weakness, I pry open my heavy eyelids.
Harper looks different. Fiercer, for lack of a better term. Aside from that, there is an indescribable expression on his face—part surprise and part annoyance.
“I said stop,” I repeat in a steadier tone.
“Don’t fight it,” he murmurs, and the yummy scent grows suffocatingly strong. “Just relax.”
It finally hits me.
The reason this feels so familiar is that I dreamed this.
My wet dream was a vision.
A vision about this.
Heartbeat speeding up, I use all my willpower to summon my strength and push Harper away from me.
He looks even more confused for a moment, then reaches for me again, his lithe fingers suddenly reminding me of claws.
Anger chases the remnants of arousal from my still-foggy brain. “No means no,”
