I opened my eyes to the flickering light of candles. The woman pressed into all that softness lay in a bed of her own dark hair, her eyes a solid golden brown fire, like staring at the sun through a piece of colored glass. OK, maybe that last was just me. , cross-legged, doing Indian chants and breathingdeeply.
His lips quirked, and it was almost a smile. I knew that lycanthropes want fresh meat when they first change shape. Though she had met many men and had no lag-time in her sociallife, she could not find “ that certain someone. Since he's not much taller than I am, he was doing a good job of it.
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