heavy sweater.
" No ," Sasha snapped. "
Not the burgundy sweater. That's my favorite
."
"Sasha, I swear. You are so spoiled!"
"And that's my sweater. Put it back."
She got up to take it to Zarek.
Sasha followed, complaining the whole way.
"
I'll buy you a new one
," she promised.
"
I don't want a new one. I want
that
one
."
"He won't hurt it."
"Yes he will. Look at his clothes. They're ruined. And I don't want his body touching something I wear. He'll contaminate it."
"Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You're four hundred years old and you're acting like a whelp. It's not like he has cooties or anything."
"Yes he does!"
She glared down her leg where she could feel him. He grabbed the sweater with his teeth and pulled it out of her hands.
"Sasha!" she snapped out loud, running after him. "Give me that sweater or I swear I will see you gelded."
The wolf ran through the house.
Astrid went after him as fast as she could. She relied on her memory as to where things should be.
Someone had moved the coffee table. She hissed as her leg collided with the corner of it and she lost her balance. She reached out with her hands to catch herself, only to feel the tabletop tilting. It gave under her weight.
The glass top fell sideways, sending things flying.
Something hit her in the head and something shattered.
Astrid froze, afraid to move.
She didn't know what had broken, but the sound had been unmistakable.
Where was the glass?
Her heart pounding, she cursed her blindness. She didn't dare move for fear of cutting herself.
"Sasha?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
"Don't move." Zarek's deep commanding voice shivered down her spine.
The next thing she knew two strong arms lifted her up from the floor with an ease that was truly terrifying. He cradled her against a body that was rock hard and lean. One that rippled with every move he made as he walked her away from the den.
She put her arms around broad, masculine shoulders that stiffened in reaction to her touch. His breath fell against her face, making her entire body melt.
"Zarek?" she asked tentatively.
"Is there anyone else in this house who can carry you that I need to know about?"
She ignored his sarcasm as he carried her to the kitchen and set her down on a chair.
She missed his heat instantly. It brought an odd ache to her chest that she neither expected nor understood.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He didn't respond. Instead, she heard him leave the room.
A few minutes later, he returned and dumped something into the trash can.
"I don't know what you did to Scooby," he said, his tone almost normal, "but he's off in a corner lying down on a sweater and growling at me."
She stifled the urge to laugh at that image. "He's being bad."
"Yeah, well, where I come from, we beat things that are bad."
Astrid frowned at his words and the underlying emotion they betrayed. "Sometimes understanding is more important than punishment."
"And sometimes it's not."
"Maybe," she whispered.
Zarek turned on the water in the sink. It sounded as if he were washing his hands again.
Strange, he seemed to do that a lot.
"I got up all the glass I could find," he said over the sound of the rushing water, "but the crystal vase on your table shattered pretty badly. You might want to wear shoes in there for a few days."
Astrid was strangely touched by his actions and his warning. She got up from her chair and crossed the floor to stand next to him. Even though she couldn't see him, she could feel him now. Feel his heat, his strength.
Feel the raw sensuality of the man.
It shivered through her and down her body, enticing her with desire and need.
A foreign part of her ached to reach out and touch the smooth, tawny skin that beckoned her with the promise of primal heat. Even now she remembered the way his skin had looked. The way the light had played on it.
She wanted to pull his lips to hers and see what he tasted like. See if he could be tender.
Or would he be rough and
" No ," Sasha snapped. "
Not the burgundy sweater. That's my favorite
."
"Sasha, I swear. You are so spoiled!"
"And that's my sweater. Put it back."
She got up to take it to Zarek.
Sasha followed, complaining the whole way.
"
I'll buy you a new one
," she promised.
"
I don't want a new one. I want
that
one
."
"He won't hurt it."
"Yes he will. Look at his clothes. They're ruined. And I don't want his body touching something I wear. He'll contaminate it."
"Oh, good grief, Sasha. Grow up. You're four hundred years old and you're acting like a whelp. It's not like he has cooties or anything."
"Yes he does!"
She glared down her leg where she could feel him. He grabbed the sweater with his teeth and pulled it out of her hands.
"Sasha!" she snapped out loud, running after him. "Give me that sweater or I swear I will see you gelded."
The wolf ran through the house.
Astrid went after him as fast as she could. She relied on her memory as to where things should be.
Someone had moved the coffee table. She hissed as her leg collided with the corner of it and she lost her balance. She reached out with her hands to catch herself, only to feel the tabletop tilting. It gave under her weight.
The glass top fell sideways, sending things flying.
Something hit her in the head and something shattered.
Astrid froze, afraid to move.
She didn't know what had broken, but the sound had been unmistakable.
Where was the glass?
Her heart pounding, she cursed her blindness. She didn't dare move for fear of cutting herself.
"Sasha?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
"Don't move." Zarek's deep commanding voice shivered down her spine.
The next thing she knew two strong arms lifted her up from the floor with an ease that was truly terrifying. He cradled her against a body that was rock hard and lean. One that rippled with every move he made as he walked her away from the den.
She put her arms around broad, masculine shoulders that stiffened in reaction to her touch. His breath fell against her face, making her entire body melt.
"Zarek?" she asked tentatively.
"Is there anyone else in this house who can carry you that I need to know about?"
She ignored his sarcasm as he carried her to the kitchen and set her down on a chair.
She missed his heat instantly. It brought an odd ache to her chest that she neither expected nor understood.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
He didn't respond. Instead, she heard him leave the room.
A few minutes later, he returned and dumped something into the trash can.
"I don't know what you did to Scooby," he said, his tone almost normal, "but he's off in a corner lying down on a sweater and growling at me."
She stifled the urge to laugh at that image. "He's being bad."
"Yeah, well, where I come from, we beat things that are bad."
Astrid frowned at his words and the underlying emotion they betrayed. "Sometimes understanding is more important than punishment."
"And sometimes it's not."
"Maybe," she whispered.
Zarek turned on the water in the sink. It sounded as if he were washing his hands again.
Strange, he seemed to do that a lot.
"I got up all the glass I could find," he said over the sound of the rushing water, "but the crystal vase on your table shattered pretty badly. You might want to wear shoes in there for a few days."
Astrid was strangely touched by his actions and his warning. She got up from her chair and crossed the floor to stand next to him. Even though she couldn't see him, she could feel him now. Feel his heat, his strength.
Feel the raw sensuality of the man.
It shivered through her and down her body, enticing her with desire and need.
A foreign part of her ached to reach out and touch the smooth, tawny skin that beckoned her with the promise of primal heat. Even now she remembered the way his skin had looked. The way the light had played on it.
She wanted to pull his lips to hers and see what he tasted like. See if he could be tender.
Or would he be rough and
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