Werehunter (anthology)

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Something very large occluded the light for a moment in the next room, then the lights went out, and Diana Tregarde distinctly heard the sound of the chandelier ­being torn from the ceiling and thrown against the wall. She winced.

There go my Romance Writers of the World dues up again, she thought.

“I got a glimpse,” Andre said. “It was very large, perhaps ten feet tall, and—cherie, looked like nothing so much as a rubber creature from a very bad movie. Except that I do not think it was rubber.”

What shambled in through the door was nothing that Diana had ever heard of. It was, indeed, about ten feet tall. It was covered with luxuriant brown hair—all over. It was built along the lines of a powerful body-builder, taken to exaggerated lengths, and it drooled. It also stank, a combination of sulfur and musk so strong it would have brought tears to the eyes of a skunk.

Di groaned, putting two and two together and coming up with—Valentine Vervain cast a spell for a tall, dark and handsome soul-mate, but she forgot to specify “human.” “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

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