Leo Travers, a young painter, is desperately in love with tall, dark, taciturn Kirk Anderson. He doesn’t even care if Kirk turns into a wolf every full moon. All Leo cares about is their future together.
Does Kirk want him only for now, or forever? Kirk isn’t saying, and Leo is afraid to ask and get his heart broken.
Then there’s the wolf pack living right next door. One of them is stalking Leo, and this werewolf won’t take no for an answer…
Leo was half hidden behind an easel. He had set it up facing the stand of birches overlooking the valley below.
Kirk walked up to him, circling round behind him to see what Leo was seeing.
It was strange; as much as he loved the woods, he had never looked at them as a source of inspiration for art. He’d never even taken any photographs.
He’d seen tourists making sketches, of course. But–face it, Kirk–he hadn’t been interested. He had dismissed it out of hand as something silly that tourists did, like picking unripe berries or buying souvenir junk made in China.
Now that he saw what Leo was doing, it made him wonder where he had acquired such prejudices.
Not from his mother, surely. She had loved the arts, and even bought a couple paintings to hang in the cabin.
Maybe it came from his father’s side of the family; they were all relentlessly practical and down to earth, proud of their blue collar jobs and full of distrust for anything they didn’t know.
Kirk was pretty sure that his father John had never seen a museum from the inside until he met Marilee MacDougall, Kirk’s mother.
He saw that Leo was holding the brush up in the air, one eye squinted shut, and waited until he was finished with whatever he was doing; it seemed to require concentration.
Over Leo’s shoulder, Kirk peered at the painting.
It was clearly unfinished, but the color was astonishing. The birch leaves were almost more intense in the painting than in reality: a mesmerizing, glorious yellow edged with other, darker colors in the shadows. A patch of gold in the gloom.
Then Leo’s blond head turned and he smiled widely, a smile of such surpassing sweetness that it almost hurt to see.
“Hi,” Leo said.
Kirk found himself smiling back, probably looking like a lovestruck fool. “Hi.”
With one more step, he was close enough and bent over Leo to kiss him.
Leo’s head tilted up instantly, and their lips met. Warmth flooded Kirk’s belly, instant arousal that always seemed to happen when he was around Leo–
And then he took in Leo’s scent. Something he had deliberately waited to do, so he could let it flood his senses when Leo was within kissing reach–
Leo’s scent had changed.
Kirk rocked back.
He took a deep breath, almost choking on the harsh, metallic scent that surrounded Leo.
It was like being stabbed with a blade of ice. It sank deep into his heart, leaving no trace.
Erick had been near Leo.
Close enough to touch Leo, close enough to leave his scent all over him.
And this despite the truce between Kirk and the wolf pack–the truce that stipulated that they weren’t allowed to enter his territory until the full moon.
Erick had broken the truce, deliberately, blatantly. And he had touched Leo with his bare hands.
I should strangle Erick for this.