Free The Wolf Ring by Meg Harris Page B

been thrilled.
    So why was she being so short with him now?
    Maybe, he thought, she’d been put off by his stammering explanation that it wasn’t an engagement ring. Women did have certain expectations, after all. When a guy gave them a ring, it was usually because he was proposing. But he wasn’t quite ready for that, and neither was she. He thought they’d both been on the same page there. But maybe he’d been wrong. When it came to women, he all too often was.
    He sighed and rolled his chair away from the computer monitor, admitting to himself that he wasn't going to get any work done tonight. Faelan’s odd attitude was weighing too heavily on him.
    He frowned, remembering what the jeweler had told him, that the ring had something to do with the town’s earliest legend. Not that a legend could possibly be affecting Faelan. But still…
    Not being a native—he’d moved here five years ago, after graduating college—he didn’t have any idea what that legend might be. He’d never heard a single whisper about it, so it must be fairly obscure. He rolled back to the computer and Googled “lupine,” finding entries about the tall, graceful flowers, but without any hint as to what they might have to do with the ring. He thought about it a moment, then searched for “lupine rapids” and “legend.”
    Ahhhh , he thought as he began reading the first entry. Not lupine as in flower, but lupine as in wolf .
    According to legend, he read, some of the first settlers in this area had moved here and found themselves transformed into werewolves, able to become wolves at will.
    Sure , he thought with an eye roll. Of course they were .
    But now it made sense that the ring had something to do with the legend. It didn’t look like a flower. But it did look sort of like…
    He closed his eyes, trying to picture the ring. Now that he thought about it, he could see that the filigree pattern was a somewhat abstract depiction of a wolf, with a topaz for its eye.
    None of which explained why he’d felt so strongly that Faelan must have it… or why she was angry with him now.
    He stood up, stalked away from the computer, and went to the window to stare moodily into the night.
    The night sky was inky black, but on the horizon, the full moon was just beginning to rise. It hung low in the sky, enormous and golden, making the light dusting of snow on the grass and trees seem to glow. It was a lovely, romantic night, a night he'd like to share with Faelan.
    But apparently Faelan didn't want to share the night with him .
    He bared his teeth. Damn it, he wasn’t going to sit here and mope about what the problem might be. In the past six months, they’d been happy, as happy as it was possible for two people to be. He was damned if he’d let her suddenly and inexplicably turn her back on him.
    Whether she wanted to talk about it or not, this was something they needed to discuss.
    He spun around, grabbed his car keys, and strode out the door.
    *****
    Oh, God, I'm dying here.
    Faelan fell to her knees on the floor, running her hands wildly over her own body. She'd never in her life felt such a desperate craving. The itch had totally morphed into sexual need now, and her skin felt like it was rippling in endless waves of desire. She could feel goosebumps rushing over her body, could feel her skin tingling and prickling as the little hairs on her arms stood erect.
    She imagined Conner's big hands on her skin, and another wave rushed through her, so intense she could hardly bear it. She wanted Conner, wanted him so much it hurt. She’d made love to him many times before, of course, but she’d never in her life wanted him this badly.
    And instead she’d snapped at him on the phone, and told him to not come over. God, what had she been thinking ?
    Desperate to assuage the overwhelming need, she stroked her own nipples through the sweater she wore, and whimpered at the intense stab of ecstasy that shot through her. It felt good, but it wasn't