Hunger of the Wolf Read Online Free PDF Page A

Stopping when he was toe to toe with her, holding her gaze, he hooked his thumbs in the sides of her panties. Her expression went completely blank with shock as he peeled them downwards.
    He should have stopped at that. He knew he should. He didn't, though. When he'd peeled them down as far as he could reach, he sank into a crouch. After staring at the curly thatch of hair on her mound at eye level to him in that position, he released his grip on her panties and skimmed his hands upward. Settling his palms on her buttocks, he jerked her against him, burrowing his nose against her mound, breathing in her heavenly scent, relishing the fire that coursed through him in reaction. His mouth went dry. He wanted to taste her. God, how he wanted to!
    He wrestled with the urge. She was human, though, he reminded himself while he could still think at all. A taste might seem harmless enough, to him, even though he knew damned well he was so perilously close to a complete loss of control that that might be all it took to push him over the edge—probably would be. To her it would be far too risky, though.
    He didn't have to bite her to infect her with lycanthropy. It was in all of his bodily fluids, including his saliva—and the tender flesh of her mouth, and her pussy, was far too vulnerable to assault. He might lick every inch of her luscious little body and run little risk of infecting her, as long as he confined himself to less sensitive flesh, but he almost certainly would if he did what he wanted to do ... at the moment.
    It was against pack laws. It was against his personal scruples.
    Regardless of the little myths, humans did not fare well when infected. More didn't survive than did, and, when it came to human females, they were the least likely to survive.
    Reluctantly, he released his grip on her buttocks, lifted his face from her, and got to his feet. He didn't look at her again as he strode from the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
    He leaned shakily against the door for a moment after he'd closed it, scrubbing his hands over his face. Completely aside from the fact that he couldn't keep the woman indefinitely without risking the local authorities launching a manhunt, he couldn't handle a lot more close proximity to her without doing something he was going to have trouble forgiving himself for later.
    Pushing away from the door abruptly as he heard the sounds of someone entering the house and punching in the security code, he strode from the room almost with a sense of relief.
    He'd already reached the foyer before it dawned on him that she was going to have a hell of a time pulling her panties on again, but he was completely certain that going back up to her at the moment was probably one of the worst ideas he'd ever had—especially with her panties around her ankles.
     

Erotica/Romance. 74621 words long.

    Chapter Four
    All three of his top ranking pack members were standing in the foyer when he arrived and all three instantly stiffened, lifting their heads and sniffing the air. “Don't even think about it,” Dante growled, fixing the men with a level look.
    Maurice, his second in command, met his gaze speculatively. “Where did you find the psychic?"
    Surprise flickered through Dante. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. After studying him for a moment more, Maurice grinned. “You've never run in to one before, have you?"
    Unwilling to admit it, still wondering how Maurice had discerned it, he merely returned his look with a steady one of his own.
    "It's that mouth watering scent,” Maurice responded finally, “the one you've been wondering why it has you rock hard and unable to get your mind off of fucking the daylights out of her. It's like catnip to lycans—except about twenty times more potent—and roughly ten times more potent that being around a female in heat."
    "She's human,” Dante growled. “It doesn't matter what it is. By pack law, she's untouchable."
    Maurice