On Monday, June 16, moi's author interview for Authors and Books will be posted, courtesy of Renee Knowles, Siren author of the new series, Pleasure, Inc. Thank you, Renee! 
Renee Knowles
Sensual, Sassy and Slightly Sinful
Going Topless--"A must read."--Euro-Reviews Out Now! Siren
Guilty Pleasures--Summer 08 Siren
Courting Trouble--Regency Historical--July 23rd! Wild Rose Press
www.reneeknowles.com
Renee Knowles
Sensual, Sassy and Slightly Sinful
Going Topless--"A must read."--Euro-Reviews Out Now! Siren
Guilty Pleasures--Summer 08 Siren
Courting Trouble--Regency Historical--July 23rd! Wild Rose Press
www.reneeknowles.com
And now, for your continued reading enjoyment ~ Part IV of Chapter One ~ Secret Lives of Fortunate Wolves
In no time , they stood within, dripping. He flipped on the lights, carefully scanning the room before he moved within.
"Two people," he spoke. "Man and woman. The woman is not Trista."
"The man is human I take it – your sense of smell," she answered, when he glanced down at her. So briefly, she thought she imagined the wolfen gleam in his eyes.
"Yes, Keira. And those blonde hairs static-clinging to the drape. Trista is a medium brunette."
"Could have been a previous guest." Keira slightly shrugged. "Don’t watch those crime shows for nothing."
"Yes." Laughter edged his voice. "But we don’t get that many guests. The hairs are too recent – my keen sense of smell," he teased over her, the pleasure of velvet on her senses.Then he was slowly moving, inspecting every nook and cranny of the typical room, too typical room. Finally, he inspected the tiny bathroom area, Keira on his heels.
"What do you feel, Keira?" he asked, carefully opening drawers.
"I feel..." She closed her eyes, allowing her intuitive sense to flow, to communicate. "I feel romance – new, light-hearted, fun – then anxiousness, extreme anxiousness. Rob pacing – not knowing what to do – then receiving a call on his cell. I feel confusion. – He’s in danger, isn’t he?"
"I believe so. This is partially addressed to you – is it not?"
Keira snapped her eyes open, stared at the envelope he held out to her. Grabbing it, she looked at the front. It was her partial address – but there was nothing inside. Her frightened eyes flew back up to the Werewolf Marshall.
"Two people," he spoke. "Man and woman. The woman is not Trista."
"The man is human I take it – your sense of smell," she answered, when he glanced down at her. So briefly, she thought she imagined the wolfen gleam in his eyes.
"Yes, Keira. And those blonde hairs static-clinging to the drape. Trista is a medium brunette."
"Could have been a previous guest." Keira slightly shrugged. "Don’t watch those crime shows for nothing."
"Yes." Laughter edged his voice. "But we don’t get that many guests. The hairs are too recent – my keen sense of smell," he teased over her, the pleasure of velvet on her senses.Then he was slowly moving, inspecting every nook and cranny of the typical room, too typical room. Finally, he inspected the tiny bathroom area, Keira on his heels.
"What do you feel, Keira?" he asked, carefully opening drawers.
"I feel..." She closed her eyes, allowing her intuitive sense to flow, to communicate. "I feel romance – new, light-hearted, fun – then anxiousness, extreme anxiousness. Rob pacing – not knowing what to do – then receiving a call on his cell. I feel confusion. – He’s in danger, isn’t he?"
"I believe so. This is partially addressed to you – is it not?"
Keira snapped her eyes open, stared at the envelope he held out to her. Grabbing it, she looked at the front. It was her partial address – but there was nothing inside. Her frightened eyes flew back up to the Werewolf Marshall.
"Dinner," he softly spoke. "No, Keira – don’t think I betray you."
"What then, Marshall?"
"Dinner because it’s a practical matter. Dinner because there are those I can talk to – find out more information. Dinner because it makes you accepted. By my world."
She shivered. Slightly on the outside. Violently on the inside.
"Your world," she murmured. "Dinner with you – that’s what makes me ‘accepted’. Isn’t it? – No, I won’t ask more questions. Although I know there are tons more. Only! because I want to find Robert."
She whirled. Tucking the envelope inside her half-soaked blouse, she marched outside to his car. Avoiding the largest puddle, she jerked open the door. But he was inside the car before she – it spooked her. Spooked her to greater high strangeness.
"What then, Marshall?"
"Dinner because it’s a practical matter. Dinner because there are those I can talk to – find out more information. Dinner because it makes you accepted. By my world."
She shivered. Slightly on the outside. Violently on the inside.
"Your world," she murmured. "Dinner with you – that’s what makes me ‘accepted’. Isn’t it? – No, I won’t ask more questions. Although I know there are tons more. Only! because I want to find Robert."
She whirled. Tucking the envelope inside her half-soaked blouse, she marched outside to his car. Avoiding the largest puddle, she jerked open the door. But he was inside the car before she – it spooked her. Spooked her to greater high strangeness.
Crossing her arms, she ignored him. As much as you could ignore a werewolf, one that was devilishly incredibly handsome.
"We’ll change into dry clothes at my place. I have clothes that will fit you."
"Previous women guests, I may assume."
"Keira, darling," he magically male-flowed over her. "I won’t inquire about your past affairs, if you won’t inquire about mine." His voice had turned arrogantly amused. "However, the clothes belong to my sister. She stays at my place when she’s here."
"And when she’s not here?" Keira did not unfold her arms, yet felt easier – she scowled at herself.
"College. Back east. Not ivy league."
"Darling?" she dared, her chin jutting out.
"Know much about wolves?" he inquired, his tone natural velvet.
"Probably not much. Certainly nothing about werewolves."
"Wolves mate, Keira."
"We’ll change into dry clothes at my place. I have clothes that will fit you."
"Previous women guests, I may assume."
"Keira, darling," he magically male-flowed over her. "I won’t inquire about your past affairs, if you won’t inquire about mine." His voice had turned arrogantly amused. "However, the clothes belong to my sister. She stays at my place when she’s here."
"And when she’s not here?" Keira did not unfold her arms, yet felt easier – she scowled at herself.
"College. Back east. Not ivy league."
"Darling?" she dared, her chin jutting out.
"Know much about wolves?" he inquired, his tone natural velvet.
"Probably not much. Certainly nothing about werewolves."
"Wolves mate, Keira."
Wilding tingles erupted all over her, dimpled her flesh. Her breaths could have run a race.
"Baby wolfs – cubs," she let her tongue go to it’s sarcastic nature, a little.
"Yes, baby wolfs." She felt his grin. "Baby wolfs," he repeated more softly.
Keira didn’t speak what was on the tip of her tongue. Baby werewolves – were there baby werewolves? And beyond that – werewolf mating. She slammed the door on her mind shut. Hard shut.
Yet, he spoke it. "Werewolves mate."
"With other werewolves," she attempted, squeezing her eyes closed. And squeezing herself with her folded arms.
"The werewolfen men of my clan always know their mates."
Silence sang eerily around her. Keira finally opened her eyes, when she felt them make a turn. Before her stood a turn-of-the-century mansion – carved ivory in the gray rain gloom, in the fall of dusk. "Yours?" she inquired, knowing it was before he spoke.
"Yes, Keira."
"I forgot to call Diane," she suddenly remembered. "It’s absolutely lovely. Amazing – almost like a fantasy house." Keira focused her eyes, soaking in the mansion’s regal romantic structure and features. Until they drove the u-shaped driveway toward the back.
"My sister’s entrance is in the back. Wear what pleases you. There’s a phone, I believe, on her nightstand."
Halting beneath a large canopy, he came around, gentleman-opening her door. Once again, he presented his hand.
"Baby wolfs – cubs," she let her tongue go to it’s sarcastic nature, a little.
"Yes, baby wolfs." She felt his grin. "Baby wolfs," he repeated more softly.
Keira didn’t speak what was on the tip of her tongue. Baby werewolves – were there baby werewolves? And beyond that – werewolf mating. She slammed the door on her mind shut. Hard shut.
Yet, he spoke it. "Werewolves mate."
"With other werewolves," she attempted, squeezing her eyes closed. And squeezing herself with her folded arms.
"The werewolfen men of my clan always know their mates."
Silence sang eerily around her. Keira finally opened her eyes, when she felt them make a turn. Before her stood a turn-of-the-century mansion – carved ivory in the gray rain gloom, in the fall of dusk. "Yours?" she inquired, knowing it was before he spoke.
"Yes, Keira."
"I forgot to call Diane," she suddenly remembered. "It’s absolutely lovely. Amazing – almost like a fantasy house." Keira focused her eyes, soaking in the mansion’s regal romantic structure and features. Until they drove the u-shaped driveway toward the back.
"My sister’s entrance is in the back. Wear what pleases you. There’s a phone, I believe, on her nightstand."
Halting beneath a large canopy, he came around, gentleman-opening her door. Once again, he presented his hand.
Late evening smooch from the Kougar...
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