knowing his sister. She’d been protecting her brother. The young man
looked to be about Anya’s own age and shared many of the same features as his
sister—the brilliant blue eyes, blond hair as well as being shorter than most
of the other males. After Dante had done the initiation for Alex to become a
member of the pack, he learned Alex and Anya were twins.
He’d tried to go
back to his home, had tried to go to sleep. Now everything reminded him of her.
Her smell was so strong everywhere, and it felt as if he had a hole within him.
One only Anya could fill. Even so, as soon as her scent faded away and was
utterly gone, he knew how much he would miss it.
Dante found
trying to rest was hard. He cradled the pillow she’d used last night, and tears
streamed down his face. The ache within him to have her there was more than he
could handle. Sleep stole him away, and as he dreamed, a vision of her at the temple
filled his slumber. He awoke with a start, something gnawing at the pit of his
stomach. An urge to go to the temple filled him.
After getting up,
Dante rode his steed toward the temple. He didn’t know what else to do. When
their lips had parted he’d seen the look in her eyes, and utter pain had flooded
his heart as she’d left. She should have been his. His wolf side was just as
much lost as his human half. He stepped inside the ancient ruins and remembered
the day he’d seen her there. Her ghostly visage was still strong and vivid in
his memory.
Dante walked up
to the altar and saw the brackish pool within its center. Was it true? Was it
even possible? He cupped a handful of the water, sending a silent plea to the
Wolf Lord’s spirit. He couldn’t lose her. He took a sip and the water made him
gag. He forced the vile fluid down his throat. An icy shiver coursed over him,
and he shuddered at the feeling. As he stared into the pool, he hoped it would
work. It had to, he thought.
Dante turned and
froze. The eerie transparent silhouette of a man-beast stood no less than ten
feet away. It soundlessly moved toward him, and faster than he could react. It
slammed into him, filling him with a feeling like death. Icy cold and
paralyzing, images flooded his mind, visions of him and Anya making love on the
altar. It was him, but it wasn’t, and somehow he’d been given a blessing like
no other before as his ancestor’s spirit bonded with Dante’s own soul.
* * * *
Anya sat in her
bedroom and stared at the two hand-carved wolves sitting on her desk. Her
thoughts were yet again on the man who had made them. It was stupid. To have
such feelings for him, Christ, they’d only shared a single kiss. He’d been her
captor, held her as a prisoner, and yet, part of her longed desperately to be
back there. To be with him.
The letter she’d
given to the clerk at the general store was her only hope in finding out if he
felt the same. She’d left it there after nearly two weeks of trying to get the
courage to write it.
“Anya! Could you
come downstairs please?” her brother called. It broke Anya’s thoughts of Dante.
She headed downstairs
and walked toward the kitchen where she saw her brother was not alone. The man
with him was tall and slim. Maybe a bit older than her brother, the fine lines
of his age appearing around the edges of his eyes. The worn out Stetson he
donned cast a shadow over his face, giving him a darker appearance. His dark
brown hair was barely visible from under it.
She took a sniff
of the air and caught the scent of cows, hay and something that reminded her of
Dante. The robust aroma of wood smoke lingered.
“Anya this is
Craig, alpha to the Misty Creek pack,” Mitch said.
“Hi, it’s nice
to meet you.” Craig held out his calloused-looking hand.
“Hi,” she said
as she shook hands with him.
“I want you to
get to know each other a little. You’re to be mated,” Mitch said and then left
her alone in the kitchen with Craig.
The words stung
as if she’d just been
looked to be about Anya’s own age and shared many of the same features as his
sister—the brilliant blue eyes, blond hair as well as being shorter than most
of the other males. After Dante had done the initiation for Alex to become a
member of the pack, he learned Alex and Anya were twins.
He’d tried to go
back to his home, had tried to go to sleep. Now everything reminded him of her.
Her smell was so strong everywhere, and it felt as if he had a hole within him.
One only Anya could fill. Even so, as soon as her scent faded away and was
utterly gone, he knew how much he would miss it.
Dante found
trying to rest was hard. He cradled the pillow she’d used last night, and tears
streamed down his face. The ache within him to have her there was more than he
could handle. Sleep stole him away, and as he dreamed, a vision of her at the temple
filled his slumber. He awoke with a start, something gnawing at the pit of his
stomach. An urge to go to the temple filled him.
After getting up,
Dante rode his steed toward the temple. He didn’t know what else to do. When
their lips had parted he’d seen the look in her eyes, and utter pain had flooded
his heart as she’d left. She should have been his. His wolf side was just as
much lost as his human half. He stepped inside the ancient ruins and remembered
the day he’d seen her there. Her ghostly visage was still strong and vivid in
his memory.
Dante walked up
to the altar and saw the brackish pool within its center. Was it true? Was it
even possible? He cupped a handful of the water, sending a silent plea to the
Wolf Lord’s spirit. He couldn’t lose her. He took a sip and the water made him
gag. He forced the vile fluid down his throat. An icy shiver coursed over him,
and he shuddered at the feeling. As he stared into the pool, he hoped it would
work. It had to, he thought.
Dante turned and
froze. The eerie transparent silhouette of a man-beast stood no less than ten
feet away. It soundlessly moved toward him, and faster than he could react. It
slammed into him, filling him with a feeling like death. Icy cold and
paralyzing, images flooded his mind, visions of him and Anya making love on the
altar. It was him, but it wasn’t, and somehow he’d been given a blessing like
no other before as his ancestor’s spirit bonded with Dante’s own soul.
* * * *
Anya sat in her
bedroom and stared at the two hand-carved wolves sitting on her desk. Her
thoughts were yet again on the man who had made them. It was stupid. To have
such feelings for him, Christ, they’d only shared a single kiss. He’d been her
captor, held her as a prisoner, and yet, part of her longed desperately to be
back there. To be with him.
The letter she’d
given to the clerk at the general store was her only hope in finding out if he
felt the same. She’d left it there after nearly two weeks of trying to get the
courage to write it.
“Anya! Could you
come downstairs please?” her brother called. It broke Anya’s thoughts of Dante.
She headed downstairs
and walked toward the kitchen where she saw her brother was not alone. The man
with him was tall and slim. Maybe a bit older than her brother, the fine lines
of his age appearing around the edges of his eyes. The worn out Stetson he
donned cast a shadow over his face, giving him a darker appearance. His dark
brown hair was barely visible from under it.
She took a sniff
of the air and caught the scent of cows, hay and something that reminded her of
Dante. The robust aroma of wood smoke lingered.
“Anya this is
Craig, alpha to the Misty Creek pack,” Mitch said.
“Hi, it’s nice
to meet you.” Craig held out his calloused-looking hand.
“Hi,” she said
as she shook hands with him.
“I want you to
get to know each other a little. You’re to be mated,” Mitch said and then left
her alone in the kitchen with Craig.
The words stung
as if she’d just been
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