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change his mind. That’s a woman’s job, to show men what’s good for them. They’re hopelessly dense.”
    “What should I say?” She didn’t even know what room he was in. How would she find him?
    “Let’s hit the sheets,” Izzy said, imitating Ceara’s accent. Then she puckered her ruby red lips and blew Ceara a kiss.
    Ceara laughed. Their ability to make her laugh was one of her favorite things about her new friends.
    “I couldn’t say that. That’s so… bold.”
    “You think he’s going to want a quiet, shy partner? He’s a wolf. He’s dominant. He’s not going to respect weakness,” Avery said.
    Ceara was so surprised by the words that her jaw actually dropped. And from Avery, no less. Practical, easygoing Avery.
    “Ceara is submissive. Not weak.” Izzy defended. Ceara could have hugged her. But Izzy wasn’t really the hugging type. Not like Coco and Avery.
    She didn’t consider herself weak. Or particularly submissive. But what did she know. She’d never been with a man before. And there was only so much one could learn from books and articles. She could practically recite studies and research on sex by all the foremost experts, and yet none of her reading had prepared her for the way Maxim had pulled her in like she was a tiny metal sliver and he, the world’s strongest magnet.
    “He might like submissiveness in bed, but outside of bed, I assure you, werewolf Maxim will want a partner that is his equal. He’s a natural born leader. Strong. Capable. Reliable.”
    Ceara frowned. Avery had several excellent points. All of which Ceara had wondered about during her time with him. He’d held her in her arms, told her to hold on to him. She’d gladly done it. He was so… Alpha. She’d never met anyone quite like him.
    Grayson was very Alpha, but he also struck her as more of a loner. Maxim seemed to command attention from everyone around him. And obviously respect, if the way that demon had backed down was any indication.
    “Ceara can be take-charge,” Izzy said.
    “Take-charge?” she parroted.
    “Bold. Sophisticated.”
    “Do I need to be bold and sophisticated for one night of sex?”
    “Honey, you already are underneath all that shyness. You just need some polish, that’s all,” Avery assured her with a mischievous smile.
    “You have attracted him. Now you must keep his attention, yes?” Izzy said, glancing back and forth between them.
    “I haven’t even gotten past a kiss.” And it wasn’t for lack of desire. He could have had his way with her on the deck beneath the fireworks or on the beach.
    Valencia strode onto the deck like she owned it. Ceara admired that about her. She never seemed flustered by anything going on around her. Ceara rarely met a stranger’s gaze; Valencia could walk into a room full of people she’d never met and introduce herself to them all. More than likely, they’d be tripping over themselves to meet her.
    She was, after all, a Fabelle.
    “What are you girls talking about?”
    “Ceara met a werewolf,” Izzy said.
    “He’s a gentleman,” Avery added, her southern drawl stretching the last word out. Then she made a face, like she was eating a lemon.
    “Some people appreciate good manners.” Ceara rushed to defend him, even though his good manners had left her a ball of quivering desire. Unfulfilled lust. Who would have thought it?
    Valencia nodded, always regal.
    “Good manners is making you come so many times you can’t remember your name, sugar,” Avery said.
    Ceara felt a blush coming on.
    “Absolutely,” Izzy agreed.
    It wasn’t that she’d never had an orgasm, she’d given herself plenty. But the idea of a man being that focused on her, being intimate that long… could a person even forget their name? Without amnesia of course. She’d never heard of a vampire suffering that ailment.
    “So what is,” V said, the s sounding more like a z, “the problem?”
    “He’s being noble,” Avery replied before Ceara