Larissa opened her eyes to find herself staring at a very dirty and soggy seventies-patterned carpet.
She groaned in embarrassment and spoke to the ground. “Wonderful! Who would have thought I’d come to a geek convention, and turn out to be the biggest loser of all!” She heard a stifled laugh and looked up at the noise, fixing her best don’t-mess-with-me scowl on her face, ready to berate the poor fool who dared to laugh. Instead, a pair of black eyes that reflected her unflattering predicament, muted her.
“I’m sorry, are you okay? I shouldn’t have put my bag there.” The crinkled corners of his eyes told her he was smiling. The stranger was kneeling beside her, his face so close she could feel his warm, minty breath on her cheek. Larissa started to breathe again, but was unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze, despite her embarrassment.
“Um, yeah, fine.” She shook her head slightly, blinking as if staring into a bright light. “Nothing broken, except my pride, but hey I’m at a geek festival, so I guess my pride left me when I walked through the door.” She impressed herself by her attempt at humor, hoping it succeeded in hiding the humiliation she really felt.
Another smile brightened his eyes, and she dragged her own gaze away unwillingly, realizing with an intense thrill that they were only the beginning of an exquisite face. She had to remind herself to breathe again as she took in a chiseled jaw softened by a dark five-o’clock shadow, and a deep, olive-toned complexion. His short black hair glistened with tiny water droplets, which explained the soggy carpet; it must be raining outside. As she started to stand, he took her arm in his callused hand, and her entire body erupted in goose bumps. He let go, too soon.
“Thanks,” she muttered awkwardly, still incapable of tearing her gaze away from his face. A harassed-looking steward tapped him on the shoulder, and he shrugged apologetically.
“Look, I’m really sorry. I’ve got to go, but I guess I’ll see you shortly.” His smile widened, showing off his gleaming white teeth.
“Sorry?” Larissa asked in confusion. As he picked up his well-worn rucksack from the floor and turned to follow the steward, he pointed toward the stage. Larissa stood in shock as the penny dropped. Oh my God. I’ve just made a complete ass of myself in front of Zane Adamson.
C HAPTER T WO
The applause erupted, and Larissa joined in with the clapping crowd. Her enthusiasm for the convention had increased a lot in the past few minutes. The audience had swelled and the queue had grown about five times the original length since she’d joined it. The convention as a whole seemed to go from a handful of wolf masks to a gothic fairytale villain convention—the Three Little Pigs and Red Riding Hood would be screwed. Maybe this TV show, Feral , wasn’t as obscure as she thought it was.
As Zane stepped out waving, Larissa finally had the chance to fully admire the man that came with those piercing black eyes. His appearance brought to mind the phrase devil-may-care. A faded gray Jimi Hendrix T-shirt clung to his broad chest, loosening slightly over his flat stomach, and leading to a distressed-looking pair of dark blue jeans. He was easily over six foot tall and she could see the spiked edge of a tattoo peaking out from under his left sleeve, enhancing his large, toned biceps. This was not a gym-made body. She knew intuitively that this man loved the outdoors; his natural tan and rough hands were a testament to his lifestyle. She was sure she would find a few scars on that body from daredevil exploits, and she relished the idea of searching for them.
As she watched, Zane lifted his hand to grab the strap of his backpack that dangled on his shoulder. At the same time, he turned his head to speak to the steward. Larissa had to stop herself from laughing aloud as his pose reminded her of Michelangelo’s David . The body certainly seemed to match, but she had a
She groaned in embarrassment and spoke to the ground. “Wonderful! Who would have thought I’d come to a geek convention, and turn out to be the biggest loser of all!” She heard a stifled laugh and looked up at the noise, fixing her best don’t-mess-with-me scowl on her face, ready to berate the poor fool who dared to laugh. Instead, a pair of black eyes that reflected her unflattering predicament, muted her.
“I’m sorry, are you okay? I shouldn’t have put my bag there.” The crinkled corners of his eyes told her he was smiling. The stranger was kneeling beside her, his face so close she could feel his warm, minty breath on her cheek. Larissa started to breathe again, but was unable to look away from his hypnotic gaze, despite her embarrassment.
“Um, yeah, fine.” She shook her head slightly, blinking as if staring into a bright light. “Nothing broken, except my pride, but hey I’m at a geek festival, so I guess my pride left me when I walked through the door.” She impressed herself by her attempt at humor, hoping it succeeded in hiding the humiliation she really felt.
Another smile brightened his eyes, and she dragged her own gaze away unwillingly, realizing with an intense thrill that they were only the beginning of an exquisite face. She had to remind herself to breathe again as she took in a chiseled jaw softened by a dark five-o’clock shadow, and a deep, olive-toned complexion. His short black hair glistened with tiny water droplets, which explained the soggy carpet; it must be raining outside. As she started to stand, he took her arm in his callused hand, and her entire body erupted in goose bumps. He let go, too soon.
“Thanks,” she muttered awkwardly, still incapable of tearing her gaze away from his face. A harassed-looking steward tapped him on the shoulder, and he shrugged apologetically.
“Look, I’m really sorry. I’ve got to go, but I guess I’ll see you shortly.” His smile widened, showing off his gleaming white teeth.
“Sorry?” Larissa asked in confusion. As he picked up his well-worn rucksack from the floor and turned to follow the steward, he pointed toward the stage. Larissa stood in shock as the penny dropped. Oh my God. I’ve just made a complete ass of myself in front of Zane Adamson.
C HAPTER T WO
The applause erupted, and Larissa joined in with the clapping crowd. Her enthusiasm for the convention had increased a lot in the past few minutes. The audience had swelled and the queue had grown about five times the original length since she’d joined it. The convention as a whole seemed to go from a handful of wolf masks to a gothic fairytale villain convention—the Three Little Pigs and Red Riding Hood would be screwed. Maybe this TV show, Feral , wasn’t as obscure as she thought it was.
As Zane stepped out waving, Larissa finally had the chance to fully admire the man that came with those piercing black eyes. His appearance brought to mind the phrase devil-may-care. A faded gray Jimi Hendrix T-shirt clung to his broad chest, loosening slightly over his flat stomach, and leading to a distressed-looking pair of dark blue jeans. He was easily over six foot tall and she could see the spiked edge of a tattoo peaking out from under his left sleeve, enhancing his large, toned biceps. This was not a gym-made body. She knew intuitively that this man loved the outdoors; his natural tan and rough hands were a testament to his lifestyle. She was sure she would find a few scars on that body from daredevil exploits, and she relished the idea of searching for them.
As she watched, Zane lifted his hand to grab the strap of his backpack that dangled on his shoulder. At the same time, he turned his head to speak to the steward. Larissa had to stop herself from laughing aloud as his pose reminded her of Michelangelo’s David . The body certainly seemed to match, but she had a
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