Paranormal · Romance

Fire in The Moon by JF Holland

She watched Ronald walk away and head behind the bar, which meant Balin once again focused on her – his eyes heating as she twisted and turned before him. She thought of her home, the one she’d hopefully be able to return to once this mess was over. Maybe once the threat to them had been removed her mother would even move in with her, taking the spare room.
God, she couldn’t believe her mother was back, she’d never thought to see her again.
The flames were crackling, the house full of smoke. Her head hurt, her shoulder ached and her throat felt raw as she coughed tying to take a full breath.
“Lana, let it go, it’s over,” came Balin’s concerned rumble in her head, pushing the memories away. She looked up as she bent forward, twisting to the side. Her arm raised to grab the pole as their eyes connected and she broke away from the memory, although the screams of her mother echoed in her head and the acrid scent of the smoke was still fresh in her nostrils. She could see concern showing in his eyes, but also the heat as he watched her hungrily. Dropping her lashes, she bent backwards, her left leg hooking the pole before she swung herself up and around it.
“Do you like what you see cat boy?” she whispered huskily inside his head as she dropped backwards, her breast lifting as her hair fell, sweeping the stage.
“Hmm, maybe,” Balin mumbled back telepathically, shuffling in his seat.
“Liar, your conscience is showing,” Lana smirked as she pushed up again and stood. Letting go of the pole she turned, eyes lowering and mouth kicking up as she eyed the bulge pushing against his zipper.
“You are such a tease,” Balin grumbled, hand lowering to his groin as he tried to rearrange himself and get comfortable.
“You have no idea,” Lana grinned mischievously as she held a finger out to him and motioned him over.
“What are you doing?” Balin hissed, as he stood, helpless to not do her bidding.
“I want to replace the memories with something else, help me,” she purred in his head making the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck rise also.
“I made a promise to your mother Lana,” he groaned aloud grinding his teeth as his feet took him a step close.
“Then I’ll find someone who will help me,” she shrugged, turning her back and sauntering into the dressing room.

“Like hell you will,” Balin growled as he took the stage in a leap and took off after her.
What the hell, he’d been good, had kept his distance and given her time to get use to the idea of their pairing. He’d also kept his bloody promise to her mother and kept his hands to himself – and how does she reward him for his patience? She threatens him with going to find someone else to do what he’s desperate to do himself. Well not on his watch.

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