Lycan Redemption by S. K. Yule Page A

wrist.
    He lifted her hand until it was in front of his face. “I feel it too, Myka,” he said huskily.
    She pulled away from him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She knew exactly what he was talking about.
    He grimaced. Thankfully, he didn’t say another word as she finished up, because had he done so, she might have ended up jumping him right in the middle of the kitchen with Patrick in the other room. She folded the towel in half to contain the hair and carefully removed it from his shoulders. When he stood, he was only scant inches from her. She was eye level with a seriously ripped and broad chest.
    She barely refrained from reaching for him, aching to see if he was as hard as he looked. But suddenly, he snatched his T-shirt from the table and backed away from her. She barely contained the urge to call him back.
    “Thank you for the haircut. Good night.”
    “Night.”
    She watched his retreat out the door. Holy moly. How was she going to keep her hands off him? He was temptation. Hell, he was more than temptation. He was temptation dipped in chocolate. She’d just told him no more than five minutes ago that what happened in the barn would not happen again. She squared her shoulders. Okay, girl. The facts are simple. At some point Galen will leave, but right now, you need the help. That meant she’d keep her lips to herself for Patrick’s sake.
    * * * *
    Galen sprinted through the woods after shedding his clothes. The chilly breeze cooled his hot skin and cleared his mind. His wolf leaped to the surface, and being an ancient, the welcomed change took place in a heartbeat. Where feet once were, four paws lightly smacked the wet ground as he ran.
    He’d barely been able to keep his hands off Myka when she’d cut his hair. Whether she denied it or not, her trembling hands had been proof enough—minus the fact that he could scent her tantalizing excitement—that she was as affected by him as he was by her. If Patrick hadn’t been in the house, he had no doubt things would have turned out differently.
    He stopped and sniffed the air. Nothing he could detect seemed amiss. Not a hint of another lycan on the air. He rubbed against a tree before going three trees over and doing the same. Throughout the night, he’d mark the whole perimeter this way to warn other animals and lycans away from the territory surrounding Myka’s.
    Scenting the place also had its downside. It put up a huge red flag for any of those who were chasing him. That didn’t bother him so much since he’d be leaving before morning. If any of the other lycans who’d been hunting him did happen along, they’d simply assess the situation and realize he was no longer here. He hoped his scent would either conceal Myka’s presence from any rogue who might happen along or scare them off.
    The thought of leaving her alone was crippling. His stomach churned, and his instincts screamed at him to stay. He vowed right then and there that he would take care of the current mess he was in and find his way back to her. They would be together no matter what he had to do to achieve it. She was his other half. They weren’t meant to be apart. He’d be damned if he let anyone take her from him now.
    As the rain cleared, the moon rose higher and lit the sky. It was a beautiful sight in its almost-full phase. The canopy of the trees let enough light shine through to illuminate the leaf-covered ground with a pale glow. A few hours later, he’d finished marking the perimeter, and started back toward the farmhouse. Although it would make his leaving much more difficult, he had to see Myka one last time.
    Once back at the barn, he shifted and dressed. After throwing his few belongings into his duffel, he started for the house. He’d planned a quick peek in the window, and then would be on his way, but fate, again, had other plans for him. Myka was pacing in the kitchen with a telephone to her ear. After speaking into the receiver, she hung up and