Waiting in the Wings (Soulgirls) (18 page)

That day was different. For some reason, my feet stopped moving when they hit the spray-painted white line on the field. Guys and girls chased the pigskin in the sunshine. The temperature was a degree below fried eggs, and not a cloud was in the sky. I heard a bottle pop open, and what should have been a glance turned into full-on ogling. He still had his shirt on, but had begun pouring the open bottle of water across his chest in an effort to cool off.

My increased hearing picked up the sighs and elevated heart rates from the women around me as the thin fabric of his shirt clung to his body and drops of water cascaded down. Deep tan skin began to peek through. His chocolate-brown nipples puckered. The water must have been cold. Thank you Jesus for whoever had those puppies in a cooler.

I could see a slight smattering of chest hair sandwiched between his skin and tee. Then he pulled up the shirt to wring it out, and I caught the brief glimpse of his six-pack and a trail of body hair that drew my attention down to his black shorts. I swear it was like an arrow directing me where to go. Boy, did I want to follow it.

The healthy dose of yum shook the water from his head and hands. The shirt fell, and I pulled my jaw up off the ground just in time to not have my tongue loll out the side like a freaking German Shepherd.

He looked up and waved. My hand waved back on instinct. When his eyebrows drew together and he began jogging back toward the game, I looked around to see a petite blonde behind me with her hand also up in greeting. I gave her the “I’m an idiot, never mind me” salute and started off toward campus. What the hell was wrong with me? He wasn’t even Pack. Why was I ogling him like I was headed into my first heat?

“Hey! Wait up!” A feminine voice called from behind me.

I slowed my pace to about half my pulse rate. I had learned that to step below my pulse rate was a great way to appear more human. The fact that I was still speeding through campus told me my pulse was hammering like a hippie playing bongos.

“Sorry, I…oh. Were you talking to me?”

The blonde from the practice field jogged to catch up with me. Her little perky boobs bobbed with her ponytail, but nothing else on her jiggled. I hated her instantly.

“Yeah. Damn you’re fast.” A smile broke her face, and not even a drop of perspiration dotted her brow. I really hated her. “Do you know Jake?”

“Who?”

“Jake’s my brother. You know, the guy who put on a water show at the practice field.” She knocked her elbow into me.

Little tip from a werewolf—don’t touch us. It’s considered a confrontational act. Lucky for this chick, it was pretty obvious to my wolf that her little five-foot-nothing frame was no match for my five-feet-ten-inches of overgrowth. When my instincts settled, I noticed she smelled different. She wasn’t from the area. For some reason, everyone here smelled faintly of earth and plants. Okay, they smelled like corn, but I don’t want to sound prejudiced. This little waif smelled empty. Like, clay or wood. You know that smell you get when you open a really old box or jar? Not moldy or musty, just…empty.

“So I saw you looking at my brother.”

“What? No I wasn’t. I was watching the game.”

“They were taking a break.” Her voice shifted from upbeat to dead serious in a second.

“Yup. I noticed that. Why I left. Have a good one.” I turned and tried to pace my steps. Then an image of Jake filtered into my brain, and I found my steps increasing their tempo. I tried to slow them, with the old standby of listening to the closest pulse. My feet stopped midstride when I realized the closest pulse wasn’t inside my little cling-on. I couldn’t hear the small blonde chick’s pulse. She didn’t have one.
Fuck
. Vampires

Waiting in the Wings

Heather Long

What a prince wants…he takes.

Soulgirls, Book 3

Who can blame Richard for his half-century-long bad mood? For fifty years he’s been waiting for his bride to get over the spat that sent her storming away from the safety of his territory. For fifty years, he’s missed everything about her—even her whimsical challenges to his authority.

It’s time for her to come home, but when he gets a lead on her whereabouts, he’s stunned. She’s dancing in a glitzy, gaudy Las Vegas show. And her memory of him has been wiped clean.

Kiki finally has the opportunity to headline at the Arcana Royale, but she’s not sure she’s happy about it. Especially when a dark, handsome stranger arouses forbidden passions from deep inside the fog of her lost past.

Richard has been granted only three days in hostile territory to free his Kiki from the curse binding her mind.

Only one problem. When Kiki remembers Richard, she may not forgive him, but if she never remembers, she’ll never be free.

Warning: Contains an arrogant-as-hell vampire prince who will stop at nothing to get the girl he loves, an unpredictable showgirl who loves to party, and scorching sex that drives them both wild.

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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

Cincinnati OH 45249

Waiting in the Wings

ISBN: 978-1-61921-593-1

Edited by Lisa Dunick

Cover by Angela Waters

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
electronic publication: November 2013

www.samhainpublishing.com