As night descended, the freezing air of Alberta clashed with the warm, aromatic steam rising from the porcelain cup in my hand. In the silvery glow of the garden, with every step I took across the crunching gravel, I knew Varg's massive, silent shadow was following me. The howl of the forest fed the tense silence between us, a silence that felt heavy with things left unsaid.
I stopped and turned around. Varg stood there, as motionless as a shadow and as flawless as a statue carved from obsidian. I looked at him and felt a sudden, piercing pang of doubt.
Was I desired as a woman? Yes.
Was I mistaking that desire for love? Most likely.
I was the raw hunger in a man's bed, living out my firsts with the most powerful man I could have ever imagined. He was an Alpha that any Omega would willingly throw herself off a cliff for. But beyond the wolf, as a man, he was more handsome and formidable than anything I had ever depicted in my personal fantasies.
