Hearts on Fire, Tome 3: Under a Darkened Moon

Chapter 1

She was a vision, no two ways about it—standing at the bar, her back to him, her long white dress dipping so low on her back that he wondered if she wore underwear. One small tug would tell. The dress was held in place by three horizontal straps across the smooth skin of her back, leaving her shoulders bare; his fingers itched to reach out and touch that sun-kissed skin, to know the texture of it. Her hair, the color of sand, was pinned in a messy knot on top of her head, a few silken strands escaping to brush against her shoulders. The punch of desire hit him low in the gut, lighting an inferno that spread through him like wildfire.

As he drew closer, her scent reached him, a heady combination of honeysuckle and musk. He stopped a few feet from her and simply breathed her in. The wolf inside him growled. Mine.

As if sensing him behind her, she turned, leaning back against the bar. She took a swig of her beer, gray eyes studying him. She had a leather thong wrapped around her neck, a silver cross dangling from it, and a flower in her hair. His desire cranked up another notch. Her body was relaxed, fluid, as she watched him watching her. Thoughts flashed through his mind as he drowned in those stormy gray eyes—images of naked flesh, limbs entwined. Be damned if he wasn't getting hard just standing there, looking at her.

"So. Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to buy me a drink?" Her soft voice challenged him. He swallowed, unable to find his voice through the hunger powering through him.

"Both." He moved to her side and signaled the bartender, ordering another two beers. When they arrived, they clinked the bottles together in a silent toast.

"Rhys Cohen," he said, standing so close he could feel her heat, could smell her scent, weaving around him and pulling him under.

"Kasie." She gave him a small smile, her lips curling lightly.

"No last name?"

"No."

And in that moment, he didn't care. This woman before him had him coming undone, his wolf snapping and snarling at him to have a taste, to reach out and touch that golden skin, to run his thumb along her full lower lip, maybe let it slip inside the hot wetness of her mouth. He'd never experienced anything like it—this sizzling attraction had blindsided him. All he knew was that he wanted her. In the worst way. Mine.

She tilted her head back, taking a deep pull from the bottle, her long neck arched, the corded leather bracelets around her wrist sliding up her arm like a lover’s caress. He wanted to touch so badly, but he stopped himself. He was a stranger to her. They were two strangers in a beachside hotel, passing through, passing time.

"You hungry, Rhys?" she murmured, lowering the bottle and licking her lips.

"Starving!" he growled.

"I meant for food. Let's eat." She took his hand. Twining her fingers through his, she led them to a table by the window. He could barely string two words together as the waiter took their order. She watched him from across the table, those gray eyes capturing him and refusing to let go. Sitting through two days of council meetings had been worth it if she was his reward.

They didn't speak as they ate. Every now and then she'd look at him and smile, and he'd automatically return that smile, some unbidden emotion washing over him. He didn't just want to touch and taste her; he wanted to please her, to see that smile on her face again and again. If the guys could see him now, they'd give him hell. Call him whipped. Brought to his knees by a pocket rocket of a woman. She couldn’t be more than five-foot-four. Petite, but with curves in all the right places. She might be diminutive, but the power she was wielding over him would make a warrior jealous.

"Let's walk."