Page 5 of Stalked By the Wolf

The bear roars as I sink my fangs through fur and flesh, and Murphy thrashes to dislodge me. Razor-sharp claws rake across my back, but I refuse to let go. The scent of Claire’s panic mixes with the tang of blood, and my predatory instincts kick into overdrive.

I lose myself in the clash of teeth and claws, but then Murphy hits me with a strike that sends me flying into the edge of the coffee table.

Stars erupt in my vision, but I am fully wolf. And a wild wolf will fight to the death to defend what is his.

Rolling to my feet, I lunge at the bear. Murphy roars in pain as my fangs rip through his pelt, taking a piece of him with me.

The bear shakes his head, and then he starts to retreat — backing toward the door.

I hold my ground in the middle of Claire’s living room, hackles up and teeth bared. Thick ropes of drool hang from my jaws, some of it dripping onto the carpet. My senses are alive from the scent of blood and bear. I am ravenous for the kill.

But then the huge bear backs onto the landing, and I hear a distant scream. He turns and blunders off into the night, leaving me alone with Claire.

CHAPTER THREE

CLAIRE

Holy shit.

Ho-lyshit.

Dane just turned into a gigantic bear, and there’s an actualwolfin my apartment.

My head spins, and I very seriously consider jumping out the window.

I took a wildlife safety course as part of a volunteer program in Yosemite, but I can’t remember a thing about wolves. Am I supposed to make myself big and try to scare him away, or is it better to appear nonthreatening?

The wolf in question is fucking huge — way bigger than any wolf should be.

His head reaches the top of my ribs, and if he stood on his hind legs . . . I don’t want to think about it. His body is covered in glossy black fur, and he has a pair of glowing amber eyes that seem to see right through me.

Then the animal shudders and starts to change.Horror grips me as the muscles thrash beneath his fur, which disappears before my eyes. His snout shortens as the fur recedes, and he rises up on two legs.

Two veryhumanlegs. Two human legs attached to…

I look away, cheeks flaming, but then I do a double take. There’s a man standing in my living room where the wolf just was — a verynakedman.

“What the —” I break off. I think I’m going to be sick.

The man in question towers over me. He’s lean, well-muscled, and hot as hell, with a broad chest, sculpted shoulders, and defined six-pack abs. His jet-black hair is enticingly disheveled, and his piercing cobalt eyes blaze with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.

“Easy, love,” he says quietly, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. His voice sounds like rich dark chocolate, if dark chocolate could make a sound, and he’s got a British accent that would make my panties instantly damp if it weren’t for the queasy feeling in my stomach. “You’re all right.”

He says the words in a soothing tone one might reserve for a child or a skittish animal, and some of the tension in my chest eases.

He extends a hand, palm up, and I take it.

My head spins as I get to my feet, and I lurch forward on wobbly knees. The man catches me against his solid chest, and I have to fight the urge to flick out my tongue to lick his warm skin. He smells like expensiveleather, bergamot, and something I can’t quite place. The combination is intoxicating.

Then I remember he’s naked.

Heat laps at my cheeks as I push out of his embrace, nearly falling into the coffee table.

“Easy,” he repeats, reaching out to steady me. “You’re in shock.”

Luckily, he moves to the side as he guides me down into the recliner. Otherwise, I’d find myself staring directly at his impressively large . . . er, manhood.

Grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, he wraps it around his waist. Then he turns and steps out onto the landing, picking up a pair of discarded jeans.

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