Feral Sins

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What in God’s name was that smell?

It wasn’t a bad smell, mused a slowly waking Taryn whose eyelids were too heavy to lift. It sure didn’t belong in her bed though. Her sleep-fogged brain was able to tell her three things. One, the smell was actually a person’s scent – a most delicious scent; fresh pine, spring rain and cedar wood. Two, the alluring scent belonged to a male. And three, that male was a wolf shifter, just like her. Taryn Warner did not smuggle strange guys into the pack house, even if they did smell delicious.

Forcing a droopy eye open, she peeked at the space beside her and was able to confirm her suspicion that the mystery male was long gone. Swerving her head – which felt unnaturally heavy – she peered at her alarm clock. Or, at least, she would have done if it hadn’t done a disappearing act. Along with her bedside table. And these silky sheets beneath her, she suddenly realized, were not her sheets.

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