Excerpt from Destiny of the Wolf:
As soon as she saw him, she knew it was him. Not only because silence
instantly cloaked the room and every eye in the place watched Darien Silver’s reaction. His sable hair curled at the
top edge of his collar, and brooding dark eyes, grim lips, handsome
rugged features, but definitely hard—defined him. Wearing a leather jacket, western shirt, jeans, and boots, everything
was as black as his somber mood. He looked so much like Tom and Jake, she figured they must be triplets, and he was the leader
of the gray lupus garou in the area. Had to be, the way everyone watched him, waiting for the fireworks.
Something about him stirred her blood, something akin to recognition,
yet she’d never seen him before in her life. It wasn’t his face, or clothes, or body that stimulated some deep
memory—but the way he moved—commanding, powerful, with an effortless grace.
He glanced at the barkeep and gave a nod of greeting, sullen, silent,
in mourning still for his mate? If he discovered why she was here, he’d be pissed.
A shiver dared trickle down her spine. She released her purse and kept
her seat, for the moment. Everyone was acting so oddly, she imagined that was the reason he quickly surveyed the
current seating arrangement. When his eyes lit on her, incredulity registered.
Crap! He recognized her; she knew it. Didn’t matter that she dyed her hair this horrible color that didn’t
do anything for her fair skin, or that her eyes were now blue. Didn’t matter that the heavy padded leather jacket gave
her broader shoulders and made her appear heavier, or that she wore her hair straight as a blade of uncut grass, compliments
of a hair
straightening iron, when her sister’s and hers
was naturally curly.
She couldn’t hide the shape of her face or eyes or mouth. All of
them mirrored her sister’s looks. Then again, he didn’t seem to recognize her, his look puzzled. The hat and glasses
appeared to confuse him. Maybe the fact she wore faux pierced earrings that looked like the real thing, too.
She broke eye contact first, her skin sweaty, her hands trembling. God, he was more wolf than she was used to dealing with—broader
shouldered, taller, his eyes locked onto hers with sinful determination, no backing down, no compromise. No wonder her sister
had fallen for the attention-grabbing gray. Lelandi couldn’t help wondering what a romp with a virile wolf like him
would feel. But damn, if it hadn’t gotten her sister killed.
© by Terry Spear, 2008, All rights
reserved.
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