Savage Wings: Book Three of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 19

A/N – Chapelites, a deep and heartfelt apology to you all for such an agonizing delay in updating Savage Wings! As you all know, I took a break to write the Universal Pictures commissioned short story, The Whispering of Bitter Creek, which, thanks to all of you who read, voted and commented managed to reach #11 in the horror charts here on Wattpad. But I am pleased to say that normal service can now finally resume and Savage Wings is back!

I hope you're ready for Megan's next adventure? As always, thank you so much for your patience and continued support and please do hit that little star button and leave a comment, you know how much I love to hear from you all.

Lots of love,

Linz xxxx

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"Spend much time in the headmaster's office when you were a kid?"

I shot Harper an admiring glance as he stood by the desk, fastening the buckle on his belt. He was still shirtless and little beads of perspiration glistened on his chest, making me feel strangely proud that I'd worked him so bloody hard. I had to admit, even my legs still felt a little shaky from the effort.

"Are you kidding me?" He grinned back, his face still sporting an alluring post-coital flush. "I was never at school long enough to get sent to the principal's office."

"That says a lot," I mused with a wink. His arm shot out and caught my wrist, tugging me towards him where he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, pulling me against his still-warm body. His hot gaze lingered on my mouth as he ran his tongue over the sharp point of one of his incisors.

"You'd better be careful, Miss Garrick, or I might have to bend you over my desk," he mock-scolded, his emerald eyes blazing so much heat that suddenly the thought of round two put the strength right back into my legs.

I curled my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging hard enough to make him moan involuntarily. "I think you did that already, Mr. Cain."

"Hmm," he murmured, brushing his lips against mine. "Thank goodness for these old mahogany desks, that's all I'm gonna say. Don't make 'em like this anymore."

His old Bostonian accent rose to the surface, sending a thrill through me to hear it. That subtle American twang of his always reminded me of when we first met. It brought back all those forbidden feelings of wanting to know more about the mysterious American who had come to my aid outside the club, of those early days when I had embarked on something I knew I shouldn't have been doing, something dangerous and exciting. A little bit like letting him take me over this desk in what was once the headmaster's office, with the others located in the various other rooms just down the corridor.

"So," he said, running a fingertip lightly along my collarbone. "What about you? Spend much time in the principal's office when you were young?"

"Nope, I was as good as gold."

"Teacher's pet, huh? Typical." His mouth curled into an arrogant smirk. "Lucky for you that I came along and showed you the error of your ways, right?"

"Oh," I said, raising a brow. "Is that what you call it? Funny, because I could have sworn that what you actually did was stalk me, dump me in your basement and then kill me?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're never going to let that go, are you? You know, I could have really killed you but I'm a generous guy, I figured you deserved a break."

"A break?" I cried. "You call that giving someone a break?"

"Hey, I was the definition of restraint, I'll have you know."