Wolfe's Lady by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy Page A

ideal for her, matched to her in a way that no other man ever came within light years of touching, but this dark revelation threatened to destroy that and take Stella down with it. In moments, his transformation wiped away her lifelong belief systems, confirmed what she thought to be mere folklore, and threatened her foundations. If she had not been so afraid, so paralyzed with dread that she could not think with any coherence, she would have screamed, screeched loud so that she could vent her anguished agony that everything was not what it had seemed. If she could survive, if any scrap of what she thought she had with Darien could continue, she had to find something to hold fast but there seemed to be nothing solid that she could grasp.
    She bit hard on her lip so that she would not cry out or scream, watching as he howled again and then bounded off into the forest, vanishing among the trees. .If he sensed her, even smelled her, she wondered what he would do, if he would attack with the sharp claws or sharper teeth. The very idea made her want to shriek as loudly as he howled. If she did that, however, she might descend into a dark madness where she might be lost forever. When Darien, if she still could call him that after what she witnessed, could no longer be seen or heard, she realized that, with effort, she could breathe again but that nothing would ever be the same as it was before.
    Stella wept then, head in her hands, but when her tears ended, she walked up to the porch and into Darien’s house to wait for his return. The long hours stretched ahead, intolerable, but she curled up on the leather sofa in the library and remembered every tiny clue that pointed to this harsh reality. Despite her studies, even the cryptic hints he tossed her direction, there was no way she could have envisioned this. No woman could, she thought, still dazed and in denial. She endured the end of relationships before but never because her significant other became a creature of legend beneath the full moon.
    As the hours passed, however, she realized one thing, the one that mattered most of all, unexplainable but undeniable. She loved Darien anyway.

Chapter Six
    Morning light filtered through the windows when she woke, disoriented and groggy. Then the memory of what she saw plunged over her consciousness like a cement block and she rose, searching the house until she found Darien. He lay on the long couch in the living room, restored to his human form, asleep and snoring. His dirty bare feet looked bruised and cut; blood seeped from some of the small wounds. Darien’s arms weren’t much better, scratched, and scraped. His long hair was matted; pieces of leaves, bits of grass, and bark tangled through it. His hands appeared to be swollen and they, too, had marks of struggle, blisters, and abrasions.
    Tenderness surged in Stella as she cataloged his many minor injuries and although she wanted him to sleep, she had to do something for him. She decided she would wash his battered feet and so she drew a basin of warm water, added a little antiseptic soap, and found a clean washcloth. With very gentle, easy movements, she washed his feet but he woke, despite her efforts not to disturb him.
    He blinked at her, and then rubbed his face hard with both hands.
    “Stella?”
    “Yes, it’s me.”
    “What are you doing, my star?”
    “I am washing your feet. After that, I will clean your other injuries and I will comb all the muck from your hair. How do you feel?”
    Darien pondered that, stared at her with bleary, bloodshot eyes and sighed.
    “I feel as terrible as I look. So, you know?”
    “I know that you are a werewolf, yes.” She kept her voice calm and quiet despite her inner turmoil.
    He sat up, swinging his legs out of her reach and groaned.
    “I will not deny what you know to be true,” Darien said. “But, how did you find out??”
    Stella dropped the sodden washcloth into the basin and met his gaze.
    “I saw you change last night