Scent of Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page A

called, "Jasha?"
    She went to the doorway of his study, then to the kitchen. "Mr. Wilder?"
    Nothing but silence answered her. He just wasn't here. So he was outside. Running, probably, impervious to the weather, his strong legs covering the miles. He said running cleared his mind. He told her she should try it, and invited her along.
    She told him her mind was clear enough.
    She wasn't about to put on shorts and run with him. Half the time he took off his shirt and showed off a trail of black hair down his breastbone and over rippling muscles, and the exotic tattoo that rippled as he pumped his arms. Every time he came in from running, she wanted to lick the bead of sweat off his nipple, and run her hands over his thighs to see if they really were as solid as they looked.
    Run with him? Yeah, right. She'd hyperventilate before they were out of the parking lot. It was bad enough that he kept a weight bench in his office and lifted weights when he'd been working long hours, and he said his neck was tight.
    So she was alone in this house, waiting on pins and needles for her first lover to arrive home.
    She rubbed her palms on her pants.
    He didn't know he was her first lover, or even that he was her lover at all. It was her task to explain her plan. She'd thought about putting together a PowerPoint presentation; after all, conferencing was a tool they both extensively used and understood.
    But a brief contemplation of the scene recalled the humiliating lecture about reproduction, abstinence, and sin given by old Sister Theresa in eighth-grade health, and Ann had hastily returned to her scheme— an enlightening discussion conducted in seductive circumstances.
    So it was a good thing he wasn't here, because this gave her time to freshen up from her long drive and implement said seductive circumstances.
    She already knew which bedroom she planned to take—the master. Jasha's room.
    She was bold. She was valiant.
    So why was she tiptoeing over to her suitcase, picking it up as quietly as she could, and tiptoeing back to the stairs?
    Because she'd spent her life waiting in the wings, desperately wanting love to find her, and now she was stepping onstage and demanding attention . . .
    and she would get that attention any way she could. With great clothes ... or no clothes.
    Abruptly, clouds covered the sun. The light disappeared. The wind hit the house with a blast that shook the windows, and rain splattered against the glass.
    The storm was here.

Chapter 3
     
    Stranger was back. He'd come out of the big rock cave at the edge of the cliff. Only rarely did he run with the wolf pack, but when he did, he always came out of the big rock cave like some domesticated dog. But he didn't act like a domesticated dog—if he had, the pack could have killed him.
    Instead, Stranger pranced along, big, handsome, his eyes golden and framed with black lashes. He had broad shoulders and a mark like two snakes that twisted and wrestled down one front leg. The dappled sunlight sparkled on Stranger's black and silver fur, and as he dodged through the forest, his muscles rippled with strength. He challenged the wind with his speed and grace.
    Leader hated him, for the young female with the smooth brown fur watched Stranger, moist eyes gleaming. She would be in heat soon, and she made it clear that when she was, she'd run with Stranger.
    But Stranger never looked back at the young female. He ran at the edge of the pack, keeping his gaze straight ahead, never challenging Leader's authority.
    But if he wished, he could.
    Leader knew that, so he loped along, his senses attuned to Stranger, to his motions, to the sounds of his panting breath and the thud of his paws on the ground.
    For those senses told him there was something not right with the male. Something ... bad.
    That was the real reason Leader didn't challenge Stranger. Not because Stranger would win, but because the stench of something worse than death clung to his fur. Something unlucky.