Read The Wolf Prince for Free Online Page B

tailor again, even if the man deserved to be frightened. It was the flash of memory that had caught him unaware.
    When would he remember everything? He felt as if there was a huge hole in his life, and he desperately wanted it filled. Who was he supposed to keep from danger? Why did his identity have to remain a secret?
    “It must be difficult not remembering who you are,” Darcy said softly.
    There was something in her voice that soothed the beast inside him. He felt his tension ease. “Difficult? I feel as though I’ve been turned loose in a place where I don’t know the people or their customs. I’m like a child learning to walk, but stumbling with every step.” He glanced her way, and saw the sympathy in her eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted her compassion.
    “I’m sorry.” She looked down at her hands, twining her fingers.
    He hadn’t meant to make her feel guilty again. She was so beautiful, so perfect. And now she felt bad she’d caused him to lose his memory.
    From somewhere deep inside, a door unlocked. He remembered someone telling him women enjoyed compliments. “You look nice,” he said. He told the truth. She did look nice. Before they had left for town, she had changed into a loose skirt and a sleeveless top. There were sandals on her feet and her toenails were painted dark red to match her fingernails.
    He remembered how she was dressed this morning when she stood on the balcony with only a thin bit of material clinging to her naked body. He had clearly seen the outline of her breasts, the exposed curves. He’d felt an almost overwhelming urge to climb up to her balcony and take her into his arms. She’d looked at him then, just as she did now, her need palpable. Desire rose inside him.
    “I want to mate with you,” he said, his words husky with need.
    Her mouth dropped open. “You want to … what?”
    He stepped off the stool and sauntered to where she stood. Before she could offer a protest, he took her into his arms and pulled her against him.
    He stared into her eyes. “I want to mate with you. I want to feel your naked body pressed against mine. I want to plunge inside the heat of your body, stroking you,” he whispered close to her ear. Then he was kissing her, tasting her, tongues sparring, his dominating, catching her moan, feeling her press tight against him.
    Someone cleared his throat. Surlock was hearing that a lot and wondered if there was something in the air. Darcy pushed out of his arms.
    “I’ll leave you to change,” she said as she hurried from the room.
    Surlock watched her leave, then turned to the tailor.
    “Here are the things you can wear now,” Mr. Barnes said hurriedly, then shoved the clothes toward him.
    Too many interruptions. He wanted Darcy. She stirred something inside him and he found it harder and harder to restrain himself.
    But rather than cause the little man in front of him to keel over dead from fear, Surlock took the clothes. Mr. Barnes fled the room as if demons from the night were after him.
    The clothing was much the same as what Ms. Abernathy had brought, and looked as restraining as what he now wore. He examined each piece to see where he thought it might be worn, then dressed. He didn’t like the shoes. He preferred bare feet.
    He closed his eyes and could see green fields; he was running through the grass, his feet pounding the ground, breathing labored. Not him, but yet it was. He grabbed the back of the chair as the vision abruptly ended. The humming inside his head grew louder.
    Who the hell was he? Where did he come from?
    “Are you okay in there?” Darcy’s voice floated to him.
    The humming quieted. Her voice had a calming effect on him. A musical sound, much like a finely tuned instrument. It relaxed him.
    He walked to the curtains and parted them, standing before her. “Will this do?”
    For a moment, she didn’t say anything, then he caught the slight flare of her nostrils, her quickened breathing. She cleared her throat.