PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

PRINCE OF WOLVES By Susan Krinard

Chapter One

There was a stranger in town.

His keen sight picked her out from his vantage atop one of the rocky cliffs that formed sentinels on either side of the narrow two-lane highway that led into town. From here he could see the main street with its clumps of buildings, a warren of human habitation surrounded by wilderness. There were people moving about as there always were, even in this isolated place—but she stood out. She was different. An outsider. The townsfolk of Lovell, British Columbia, might not care for strangers, but he occasionally had use for them. At least the women…

His long suntanned fingers stroked slowly through the dense fur of the wolf beside him. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman, and the desires that had awakened with the coming of spring had not been satisfied. There were women in town who would share his bed, who would be more than willing to overlook his reputation. But he had long ago lost any appetite for the entanglements that came with local relationships The few times he’d tried it hadn’t been worth the trouble.

And he’d been alone so long.

The wolf under his stroking hand shifted and whined softly With a murmured apology, he released his grip on the heavy mane behind the animal’s neck He didn’t care that the townsfolk regarded him with suspicion, they were not his kind. But their distrust limited his choices. When winter drifted into spring and the need came on him, there was only one way to meet it. Hikers and adventurers and tourists out to see their last chunk of real wilderness came year by year to Lovell’s single lodge, and nearly always there were women among them willing to share his cabin and bed. But this year had been a lean one. Until yesterday.

And she was lovely. It hadn’t been difficult to find her desirable.

It had been easy to observe her, to mark her out from the rest. She shone among the townsfolk, a flame among ashes, luring his senses with an undeniable attraction. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d seen, but there was a vitality about her that burned as brightly as the sun on her hair.

He smiled slowly, a slight upcurve of lips that seldom resorted to the expression. Yes, she would do very well.

The wolf interrupted his reverie with an impatient thrust of its muzzle under his hand. Intelligent eyes, pale and rimmed in black, met his questioningly. He drew his hand over the broad forehead and scratched between the triangular ears. The wolf closed its eyes and stretched with a yawn that revealed rows of sharp teeth. Then it straightened, yipped once, and turned in a tight circle.

The impatient gesture drew a rough chuckle from the man. “Yes, my friend Don’t let me keep you from important business.” The wolf waved its tail once in answer and sat on its haunches, regarding him. “I won’t be joining you now. I’ve got other game today.” He turned again to gaze at the town, though the woman had long since disappeared. “I haven’t done this kind of hunting in some time—and I think this one might prove to be a challenge. I’ll have to be careful to stay downwind until I’ve caught her.”

Anticipation tightened his muscles, and the wolf yipped again. “Go. I’ll find you later. We’ll have to plan this carefully—and keep an eye on her in the meantime.” He pushed gently at the wolf, and the beast whirled and vanished like a gray phantom.

The sun rose higher, limning the serrated hillsides to the east with radiant yellow light against deep blue-green. The mountains beyond caught the illumination with the brilliance of a diamond. He breathed in the crisp air, savoring the myriad scents of a new day. Before it ended, he planned to know more about the stranger—and begin his hunt.

Joelle Randall didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

The long slope, carpeted in wildflowers, released a heady perfume on the cool air of late summer. Conifers bordered the meadow like the watchful sentries of a vast army, marching up the slopes of surrounding mountains—sharp peaks streaked with the white of perpetual ice. Just out of sight were lakes of perfect crystal blue, fed by streams that cut their way over jumbled rocks and through forests almost as pristine as the day they were created.

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