Ingrid's heart leapt into her throat when she recognised the familiar form coming through the door. Her first thought was to run. She wanted to run as fast as her legs could carry her and possibly transform halfway through, but fear paralysed her to a spot.
As if on cue, the door slammed shut during a particularly robust clap of thunder. Ingrid stifled a whistle. A strong wind roared outside the cabin and jiggled the window, putting off some of the fine arrangement of candles below it. The brightly lit room dimmed by a fraction, but the fire from the logs burnt strong.
The intruder sniffed the sweet scent of rain in the air and smiled slyly. "Ah, there's a storm moving in." The voice was low and rough, like it had been impaired by a sore throat. "What do lovers do on a night like this?...Talk? Eat? Sleep? Sex? Let's have sex, Ingrid."
