Last Wolf Standing

If not for the bustling noise of the crowd, anyone standing within five feet of Mason Dillinger would have easily heard the two halting, roughly drawled words that slipped slowly past the tightening line of his mouth."Oh, shit."Perhaps not the most erudite of phrases, but what it lacked in eloquence it more than made up for in conviction. In fact, in Mason's opinion it summed the situation up to perfection.After all, it wasn't every day that one of his kind found his life mate in a throng of jacked-up caffeine addicts. Five seconds ago he'd have sworn that it could never happen--that a woman who had been created as his perfect match, the other half of his self, even existed--but there was no denying what that scent was doing to his head, not to mention his quickly thickening body parts."Hell," he muttered under his breath, reaching down with one hand to rearrange himself, pulling the edge of his flannel shirttail in front of his bulging fly. "I'm screwed."The second he'd stepped through the doorway into the bustling interior of The Coffee and Croissant, the smell of her had hit him like a fist upside the head, rolling across his tongue like the sweetest sin, the most wicked of temptations. It was something he wanted to sink his teeth into and swallow. Something creamy and entirely his. The erotic promise of damp, pink flesh that would be slippery and warm to the lap of his tongue, rich and succulent like a treasure.He wanted to eat her alive...and he didn't even know who she was.But he knew where she was. She was somewhere in this crowded, pain-in-the-ass, prepped-out joint that his Bloodrunning partner, Jeremy Burns, had insisted they duck into before the entire day had passed them by without eating. With their accelerated metabolisms, it was unhealthy to go too long without sustenance, not to mention dangerous as hell to the general population at large.Yeah, he knew where she was.And he knew what she was, too.She was his.Mason's narrowed eyes quickly scanned his surroundings, taking everything in, and then his head tilted back and he allowed inhuman senses so much sharper than mere sight to take over and read the room. Hot, fresh-baked croissants were just being taken from an industrial oven in the kitchen. To his left, a small, distinct clatter of metal against crockery as a businessman added sugar to his double cappuccino. A toddler fussed in the corner, beside a belligerent, kohl-eyed teenager in black who scowled at her father as he lectured her on the importance of grades. The myriad of sounds and scents assailed him, chaotic and full, and yet she burned through sharp and crisp like a radiant beam of light. Vibrant, breathtaking sunshine on a bone-chilling, cloud-smothered day. Something warm and comforting like home.Hunger clawed its way up his spine, ripping through his system with such force that he expected to look down and see blood seeping through the thin cotton of his navy T-shirt and dark gray flannel, spreading like death down to the ragged denim of his jeans. Ripping him open quicker than teeth or claws ever could.His nostrils flared as another soft drift of mouthwatering scent crashed through him. Yes, it was right there...lingering on the air, and a hard shudder racked the long length of his body, his skin going hot and damp as a low, unfamiliar burn began in his belly. An animal lust...but different. The unmistakable hunger for hard, grinding, gritty sex, and yet utterly foreign from the driving need he'd known in the past. He'd had his share of women in his lifetime, leaving them quickly, yet always with their well-used bodies heavy with pleasure, steeped in satisfaction--but this was more. Harder. Deeper. A sharp-edged, driving need unlike anything he'd ever experienced, raging and explosive.He didn't just want to bury himself inside her--he had to.But first he had to find her. "You're growling." The deep voiceByrd, Rhyannon is the author of 'Last Wolf Standing', published 2008 under ISBN 9780373617821 and ISBN 0373617828.