« I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue. »
~ Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XI ~
***
Droplets drifting down from the high canopy of the trees.
The wind rustling the leaves and shattering the silence of the dark forest.
Smoke rising from the Pack House, ten miles away, flooding the atmosphere with light scents of maple and oak.
Not a bird or insect daring to make a noise.
The scent of four males patrolling on the border. Two elders, two younger males. Four dominants. Harmless.
A bear, hidden in his den.
The frenetic thumping of a little rabbit'paws hitting the ground, dashing away to hide.
A group of twelve teenagers on the East side of the Pack House, hidden in the wood twelve miles away. All wolves. Six barely mature males, two males still in their cubs' stage. Four females, two bleeding, one in the first stage of heat, and the last one, the only dominant in the group. Harmless.
42 heartbeats. Humans, Werewolves, wild creatures in the forest, and one Lycan -Vasili- a few miles away, coming back from the city.
Cars rushing on the road outside the forest, no unknown scents.
And Her...50 miles away.
Godric runs.
Through the overload of information assaulting his brain, the Lycan in his human form tears through the cold darkness, leaping over boulders and logs and hitting the ground a millisecond later.
YOU ARE READING
HIS SALVATION
Werewolf- #1 Book in the KINGS series - * * * Two warm hands slip over her shoulders, calloused fingertips ghost over the bone at the nape of her neck, making a shiver run down her spine. Tender hands gather her hair and push the damp lock over her right sh...
