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pain of loneliness again. She would never feel any pain.
    Pain.
    Like the pain coursing through his body; his chest and shoulder were on fire from where he had been stabbed by the followers of the old priest. He knew the old priest would not stop coming for Richelle. He was insane, driven with his desire for recognition and lust for power. What he didn’t know was how the old priest had found her. She had traveled so far, had covered her tracks to well.
    Pain.
    It was a ramrod in his chest as he labored to breathe. Try as he might to will his body to sleep, thoughts of Richelle being alone and unprotected kept him awake. He needed to slow his heartbeat and his breathing so that his body could find rest and he could regain his strength, to heal. Not only for himself, but for Richelle. He vowed she would never be alone again. His body shuddered.
    Pain.

    Of Night and Desire
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    Sharper than before. His body shivered with cold. And then he felt warmth, calming and comforting. The painebbed because of a hand.
    Touching him. So soft, tender. He dreamed it was Richelle touching him, tending him. Richelle, she is so beautiful. He reached out to touch the vision of her face. He cupped her face in his dream, and she leaned into his palm.
    How he longed to kiss her, but she was not real. She was only his fantasy.
    Despite his injuries, his body cried out for Richelle.
    Pain exploded through his shoulder into his head. Then there was blessed darkness. The night enveloped him in her warm embrace, and he finally fell into a deep slumber.

    * * * *

    Richelle couldn’t believe her Guardian was so beautiful. Not handsome, but beautiful. When he first began to shift as they reached the wolves’ cave, she was startled. But she continued to watch in fascination as his body morphed from his wolf form into the fine specimen of masculinity she now gazed upon. Oh, she had seen handsome men before but none like Valya. It wasn’t merely the beauty of his finely chiseled features, his Roman nose, and square jaw. It was the beauty of his entire physique.
    He was muscular and sinewy, like a man who had used his body well for both physical and pleasurable motivations. It was sleek and toned, not unlike the form of the wolf, with strong arms and legs. She could see him running wild through the forest as either man or beast with the same loping grace, his long chocolate hair whipping in the wind. She willed him to open his eyes, longing to see their color. Rich brown. She knew they would be the same rich color as his hair.
    Her body ached in a way she had never known before. Having long since shed her torn dress, she should have been embarrassed sitting there in nothing more than her slip, but she didn’t. She felt surprisingly…natural, as if it were completely normal for her to be sitting half-naked with a man she remembered vaguely from her childhood and from her dreams. Her body tingled, crying for something more that she couldn’t explain.
    She started a fire to warm the cave and then tended his wounds, instinctively knowing they would heal despite the damage that was done.
    When she finished applying the dressing, she lay her hand upon his chest,

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    Mia Bailey
    letting it rest there as she felt his chest rhythmically rise and fall . She felt his body shudder. She could not resist as her hand slowly traced from his shoulder wound over his well-developed pectoral, hairless and smooth. Her hand continued trailing down to his abdomen, taut and rippled even with his body at rest.
    Yes, there was no other way to describe him. He was beautiful.
    He had a fever, and his body was covered with perspiration. This was not uncommon with his injuries, but she did what she could to make him comfortable. She wiped his brow and chest. Her touch was light as a feather but she moved swift and sure, using strips of her discarded dress to wipe away the sweat and blood. As she tossed the damp cloth aside, his hand came up and tenderly cupped her face. His body