Page 3 of Wolves in Lust

His sudden change in tone—from flirting to seriousness—had her looking at him. His eyes were so dark she could fall into them and never return. He tapped a long finger onto his cheek, drawing attention to his high cheekbones and sharp jawline. The guy could be a model.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Sometimes talking about anything, even something trivial, is enough.”

She considered that. There was so much she couldn’t talk about, what harm could come from a meaningless conversation?

Misti nodded. “Fine. What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything.”

Their waitress brought over a beer for him and a tall, dark glass for Misti. She glanced over at Julie, who threw her a grin and a wink. Uh oh. I hope one’s not enough to knock me onto my ass. Julie could make some wicked drinks.

The first swallow went down smooth, warming every part of her. It didn’t taste strongly of alcohol, but that was where Julie excelled.

“I have yet to meet a guy in a bar that was actually decent,” she finally said to break the silence.

He laughed. “That’s because none of those guys were me.”

“Oh, really? And what makes you so special?”

“I actually listen.”

If that were true, that would make him different. Misti’s father never listened to her. Most of the other male werewolves didn’t either. The females she had no problem rallying to her cause, but the males always thought they knew better, that she couldn’t say or offer anything that might help.

“You actually listen, huh?” she asked.

“I do. And I think I know your story.”

Misti had been about to take another sip. Instead, she took a deep gulp. Just who was this guy, and why did she suddenly feel afraid to be sitting across from him despite being in a public setting?

2

“Go ahead,” the beautiful woman said, seemingly unflustered. “Tell me my story.”

“If I get it right, what do I win?” Anders Kraus swallowed more of his beer. If the waitress didn’t hurry with their wings, he’d need another one, or two.

“Is life a game to you?” She glanced away, as if bored, but her posture was stiff, her shoulders back. He put her off balance. Good.

“A dangerous game,” he murmured.

The woman nodded. Her amber eyes pierced through him. Her hair was a mixture of light and dark brown, and she wore little, maybe no makeup. She was perfect.

Looks wise. But looks only got anyone so far.

“You can name your prize.”

That pleased him. “A bold offer.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “For your bold claim. Tell me my story.”

“You constantly try to outsmart everyone, to stay one step ahead. Failure is not something you accept in others, and it’s definitely not something you accept in yourself.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Fortune teller nonsense. My story’s a little more… singular than that.”

He finished his beer and noticed she only had a sip left in her drink. Beneath the table, he reached over and squeezed her knee, needing to touch her. For whatever reason, he felt wildly drawn to her. He had noticed her the moment she walked into the place. When he saw her looking for a place to sit, he’d offered the guys sitting at this table a fifty to walk away. He’d removed one of the chairs so it would look more suitable for her, and she’d taken the bait immediately.

Now that he had her, he wasn’t about to let her go until he figured out just what connection drew him to her.

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