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SECRET OF THE WOLF
by Cynthia Garner

Genre: Paranormal Romance, Paranormal/Urban Fantasy

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She clasped her hands behind his neck, and he felt her fingers sift through his hair. Her eyes fluttered closed, face wearing a mask of contentment. For a few moments they danced in silence. She swayed to the music, her pelvis bumping against his every few seconds, her fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck. She sighed and opened her eyes. “So, you wanted to talk?” That voice was the definition of sultry.

There were too many people on the crowded dance floor to talk about what he wanted to. The rift device. Plus, he wasn’t sure he could keep his mind focused on the conversation while she was plastered against him like she was. “Not here,” he murmured close to her ear. Dante felt the shiver that went through her. She turned her face so that their lips were less than an inch apart. Amber flickered in her eyes and her breath tickled across his cheek. The slight curve of her belly brushed against his groin again, eliciting a resulting hardness to his lower body.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he dropped his mouth onto hers. His entire focus centered on the woman in his arms. Everything else—all the noise, the smells of the club—faded away. His heart thundered in his ears, pulsed in his cock. Her tongue, tasting slightly of chocolate and amaretto and wholly of hot, sensual woman, twined with his.

She moaned into his mouth and pressed closer, breasts flattening against his chest. Dante moved his hands from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her lower body firmly against his. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. He reluctantly became aware that the music had stopped. Stepping away from Tori, he kept his hands on her waist and stared down into her eyes, feeling like someone had cut him off at the knees. He was stunned by the primal urge to claim this woman right then and there, in the middle of the crowd.

He’d had no idea he could be as primitive as a Neanderthal.

Or a preternatural.

With a smile full of feminine promise, Tori took one of his hands and led him off the dance floor. He trailed behind her, willingly following her lead, feeling just a little off his game.

She slid into a booth at the back of the club and Dante took a seat across from her. She flagged down a passing waiter and in a husky voice said, “I’ll have a Screaming Orgasm, please.”

“I’d like one of those, too,” Dante rasped. He cleared his throat. “But give me a beer, whatever you have on tap.”

“You got it.” The waiter walked off, a grin on his face.

“Chicken.” Tori leaned forward and traced a finger across the table. Back and forth, back and forth. It was mesmerizing, the rhythm.

Made him think of another kind of back and forth he’d like to do.