Under an Alaskan Moon (Sample)

Chapter 11

Brock O'Hurn as Colin Byrd

Faye's neck popped as she painfully straightened it. Sleepily, she blinked her eyes, looking confusedly at her surroundings. Her back groaned as she sat up from where she had been leaning against the base of the recliner. She was in the living room, the fire was dead in the fireplace, and outside, snow was sifting to the ground with a hiss. The ground was still warm enough that the snow was practically melting as it touched the surface.

"What a weird dream," she yawned.

She looked down at her lap as a snore met her ears. Tangled hair lay spread across her lap, two large arms tight around her waist.

"Aw hell," she muttered, looking down at the man curled around her like she was his favorite pillow.

"Why couldn't you just be a dream?" She groaned, trying to figure out a way to move without waking him up.

She eased out from under his head, sliding a throw pillow where she had been. He was reluctant to let go of her, Faye having to pry his arms from around her waist.

Her back hurt.

She glanced down again at the man and frowned, taking note of his shallow breathing and the bruises mottling his body. Gingerly, she squatted down next to him, feeling her knees pop several times, sounding like gunfire. Pressing her hand to his forehead, her eyes widened.

"You're burning up," she muttered, stroking down the guy's face, "But then again, don't canines run at a higher temperature than humans? I mean you're a dog after all."

Faye giggled somewhat hysterically and then sealed her lips shut. She was acting like a crazy person. Okay so maybe she was in a little bit of shock from last night. But talking to a sleeping Wolf-man wasn't going to make that any better.

With a snort, she straightened and went to start breakfast, wondering if the naked man under the blanket on her bearskin rug would eat anything other than raw meat.

She mentally gagged. Well that's all he had been eating. And her chicken! Faye froze.

He ate her chicken!

She glared over her shoulder at the lump on the floor that was too much beard and hair and attractive man. With a sigh, she left him there with toast in the oven and ran out to feed the chickens.

When she walked back through the door, she froze. He was gone. "Okay," she said loudly, peering around cautiously, "So not funny, Wolf-man. Where are you?"

Her bedroom door burst open and he stood, albeit on shaky limbs and clutching to the door jamb, a frantic look on his face.

And stark naked.

Faye was fairly sure her mouth was gaping as she realized this. Then, she snapped her mouth shut so hard her jaw ached and focused her eyes somewhere on the exposed wooden rafters of her home.

He grunted and her eyes flew back to him as he took an unsteady step forward, his face twisted in pain. His mouth worked and Faye realized he was trying to speak.

"G-gone?"

Faye squinted at him, pretty sure she looked like an idiot as she tried to make out what he said through the thick Irish brogue.

"You gone?"

Faye shook her head and turned to close the door behind her. When she turned back around, her eyes met male chest, focusing against her will on a little brown nipple on his right pec. How had he moved so silently? His chest was thin, his ribs poking out, but it was a nice chest all the same. Don't forget male. And that nipple was close enough she could stick out her tongue and lick it.