The Wolf Fount Read Online Free

orange eyes.
    “Please.” It was a whimper, so pathetically needy that she scowled in her sleep.
    Calhoun smiled, revealing long canines with sharp points. “There’s no hurry.”
    “But I need...” Whatever she needed was lost as his lips covered hers again. She reached down to stroke him, hoping to change his mind about hurrying. Being denied what she wanted tended to fuel her rage, but this was feeding an entirely different fire.
    He’ll use me . The thought dashed cold water over her lust just as he finally moved to fill her. Morgan snarled, struggling to form a certain word.
    “No!” The dimness of her bedroom greeted her as she opened her eyes. She was panting, skin damp and steaming hot. Worse, she could vividly recall the feel of his hardness as it slid against her. With an annoyed huff, she rolled off the bed and padded to the bathroom. Flicking on the light, she gazed at what the mirror revealed, fear rising in slow, cold surges.
    Her eyes were bright green, almost glowing in the harsh light. Morgan leaned closer, only to back away as she saw the circle of gold whirling around her pupils. A tear formed in her right eye, and slid free as she whispered, “What’s happening to me?”
    Of course, no one answered. Sinking to the cold tile, she curled into fetal position and began sobbing.

Chapter Three
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    M organ fought an inner war for two days solid, finally surrendering to inescapable logic. Calhoun had said he could explain what was happening to her, and that was the closest she’d come to finding anything out.
    She sat in her car, staring at the entrance and the line of people waiting to be admitted. Chanteloup was housed in a two-story, low-key looking building that was painted cream with dark brown trim. The location was off the highway, barely within city limits, and set well back in the midst of an established grove of trees.
    The sign was simply the club’s name in fancy, flowing, red neon script.
    Morgan studied the way the doormen waved some people through with barely a glance. Here and there, someone would be given a careful once over before being approved to enter. Others were denied admission with a quick shake of head and no apparent scrutiny.
    More than willing to put off the moment she’d have to present herself to them, she began trying to guess who’d be allowed inside. She had no doubts she would be, since the owner had told her to come back even after she’d slugged him, and then threatened to gut him.
    After several minutes of correct guesses, Morgan cursed under her breath and got out of her car. She locked it, shoved the keys into a front pocket, and squared her shoulders. Suddenly changing her mind, she wasn’t happy when her feet disobeyed, carrying her straight to the entrance, and the head of the line. The two girls who’d just stepped up protested, but she shot a threatening look over her shoulder, and they fell silent.
    Morgan focused her attention on one of the doormen, a big, dark-skinned man with light green eyes. She hadn’t seen him before. “I’m here to see Calhoun.”
    He grinned, revealing a Hollywood smile of extremely white, even teeth. “What makes you think he wants to see you?”
    She stepped right into him, grabbing a handful of the blood red T-shirt he wore, crushing “Chanteloup” into “Chup.” Surprise rippled down the line behind her. “We both know he does, so stop fucking around and move, before I move you.”
    His smile didn’t waver. “That chip on your shoulder must be one heavy son of a bitch.”
    “You got that right.”
    He gave vent to a deep, rich laugh. “I like you. Go on in.”
    Releasing the handful of material, Morgan smoothed the wrinkles out with suddenly lazy fingers. Underneath the material, his muscles shivered in reaction, and his smile began to fade. Meeting his now intent gaze, she asked, “What’s your name?”
    “Jerome.”
    Morgan lifted her right hand, fitting the palm of it to his jaw.