everything about her work, including secretly researching clinical lycanthropy just for the fun of it. It’s what nerds do. Brandy stays busy, but in the lonely hours of the night, she can’t deny something is missing. If only she could find that soul mate people are always mentioning. As if one perfect match for her really exists.
When a pained howl echoes from the dark forest beyond the sanctuary fence, Brandy meets a wolf unlike any to cross her path. Why does she grow instantly connected to him? Why does he become so important to her?
She’ll only get answers if she accepts a wolf kiss.
She’d only been in his presence less than fifteen minutes, but she felt… connected to him, as if she knew him already. He was handsome as hell and probably used to women falling immediately under his spell. Brandy figured his eyes alone had enough power to rein in the most reluctant women. Combine those eyes with that body and his life-saving skills and he started looking very much like The Perfect Man.
If there was such a thing.
Brandy hadn’t believed there was, but Reardon—whose last name she didn’t even know—appeared extremely close to perfect.
“Be careful,” she warned herself as she pulled the brownies out of the oven and put them on the stovetop to cool. No need to be stupid about this whole thing. She’d serve him dinner, and if he was open to more, she’d give it to him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It was just sex.
She whirled around at the sound of Parker’s voice, ready to greet her friend, but her gaze immediately landed on Reardon standing so beautifully tall behind him instead. He filled her small kitchen with his broad shoulders and long legs, and Brandy was certain someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. She actually felt dizzy. He looked amazing in another pair of blue jeans and a black, Henley-style T-shirt that fit snuggly around his biceps.
“Good evening, lass.” The deep timbre of his voice caressed her from the inside and she nearly melted at his feet.
“Reardon.” She liked saying his name. “Nice to see you again.”
“Aye, likewise.” He held out a bottle of wine so she had to step closer to take it.
As her hand closed around the neck, Reardon put his free hand over hers. It was solid and rough and warm. God, she hoped he wanted to touch her later tonight. She might weep if he didn’t.
“You’re okay, aye?” He didn’t release his hold on her. Not that she wanted him to. In fact, she had an indescribable urge to snuggle into his arms and stay there. For like a long time.
Or forever. Either way.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks to you.” She looked at his hand that was still bandaged around the knuckles. “And are you okay?”
“Aye, fine.” He let her hand go and gave her a shrug as if it were no big deal he’d leaped into harm’s way to save her and Dylan.
It was a big deal. A very big deal.
Prize Two - Otherworld Series
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