shapes.
During his twelve-year career as an professional artist, Jim had painted any number of peopleâmostly urban studies of the folks who inhabited Hot âLanta. His edgy, stylish pieces now commanded critical acclaim and large sums of money. But the painting he wanted to do of Faith would be something different.
Something private.
Faith finished the set and sat up on the bench, panting, her pretty breasts rising and falling under the thin blue T-shirt she wore. Absently, she picked up the towel that lay across the bench and wiped her sweating face. He loved the fierce, intent expression she wore when she was working hard, but he loved watching her when she was spent, too.
She sat back, unwittingly giving him an idea for another portrait in his Faith series: leaning against the wall, breathing hard, a heathy flush on her face, strands of red hair tumbling down around those high cheekbones.
Glancing over, she saw Jim watching and leaned down to give his head a pat. He almost growled.
The woman of his dreams thought he was a dog.
His timing sucked, and he knew it. He was supposed to be catching his best friendâs murderer. But he hadnât realized that pretending to be Faithâs K-9 partner would mean spending so much time with her. And he hadnât anticipated the effect sheâd have on him, with her intelligence, stubborn courage, and commitment to justice.
At first, heâd tried to dismiss the attraction as simple lust, then as an inconvenient infatuation. Over the past few days, though, heâd come to suspect it was a lot more than that.
Unfortunately, it didnât much matter what it was, because he couldnât do a damn thing about it. Oh, he could wait until heâd caught Tonyâs killers, then pretend to meet her as a human. Maybe sheâd fall for him.
But even if she did, humans and Dire Wolves werenât cross-fertile, and Direkind law forbid them from marrying. The only way he and Faith could be together is if he bit her and infected her with Merlinâs Curse.
Unfortunately, a fifth of the Dire Kind didnât survive their first transformation. Like Steve, their own magic consumed them. Hell, sometimes even established Dire Wolves triggered a magical meltdown by trying to Turn too often.
It was not a chance Jim was willing to take, despite what heâd said to Charlie. Anyway, he couldnât stand the thought of sinking his fangs into Faithâs delicate flesh, or watching her endure the pain that would follow. He sure as hell didnât want to watch her die.
Besides, even if she did survive the Change, she wouldnât thank him for making her a werewolf. Maybe he could get her to fall in love with him first and agree to make the Change, but what if she refused after he told her about the Direkind? Sheâd know too much. The standard procedure was to bite oneâs human lover and then tell him or her the facts of werewolf life. Again, not something Jim had any interest in doing to Faith.
Face it, London, he thought grimly, youâre screwed.
Â
The next day, Faith pushed open the door to the briefing room where roll call was held. The three cops sitting at the long table fell silent and looked up. Their expressions cooled when they saw it was her.
Suppressing a frown, she gave them a nod. âHi, guys.â
Two nodded stiffly in return. The other watched her with brooding hostility.
She pulled out a chair and sat down, eyeing the three men. âIs there a bug going around, or did you boys stay up all night working that murder? You look like hell.â
âMind your ownââ Frank Granger began hotly, only to break off as if someone had kicked him under the table.
âThatâs right, Faith,â Gary Morrow told her with a stiff smile. âThe sergeant had us canvassing the neighborhood.â
Eyeing them, she decided she didnât buy it. Sheâd lingered on the scene later than they had, and she
During his twelve-year career as an professional artist, Jim had painted any number of peopleâmostly urban studies of the folks who inhabited Hot âLanta. His edgy, stylish pieces now commanded critical acclaim and large sums of money. But the painting he wanted to do of Faith would be something different.
Something private.
Faith finished the set and sat up on the bench, panting, her pretty breasts rising and falling under the thin blue T-shirt she wore. Absently, she picked up the towel that lay across the bench and wiped her sweating face. He loved the fierce, intent expression she wore when she was working hard, but he loved watching her when she was spent, too.
She sat back, unwittingly giving him an idea for another portrait in his Faith series: leaning against the wall, breathing hard, a heathy flush on her face, strands of red hair tumbling down around those high cheekbones.
Glancing over, she saw Jim watching and leaned down to give his head a pat. He almost growled.
The woman of his dreams thought he was a dog.
His timing sucked, and he knew it. He was supposed to be catching his best friendâs murderer. But he hadnât realized that pretending to be Faithâs K-9 partner would mean spending so much time with her. And he hadnât anticipated the effect sheâd have on him, with her intelligence, stubborn courage, and commitment to justice.
At first, heâd tried to dismiss the attraction as simple lust, then as an inconvenient infatuation. Over the past few days, though, heâd come to suspect it was a lot more than that.
Unfortunately, it didnât much matter what it was, because he couldnât do a damn thing about it. Oh, he could wait until heâd caught Tonyâs killers, then pretend to meet her as a human. Maybe sheâd fall for him.
But even if she did, humans and Dire Wolves werenât cross-fertile, and Direkind law forbid them from marrying. The only way he and Faith could be together is if he bit her and infected her with Merlinâs Curse.
Unfortunately, a fifth of the Dire Kind didnât survive their first transformation. Like Steve, their own magic consumed them. Hell, sometimes even established Dire Wolves triggered a magical meltdown by trying to Turn too often.
It was not a chance Jim was willing to take, despite what heâd said to Charlie. Anyway, he couldnât stand the thought of sinking his fangs into Faithâs delicate flesh, or watching her endure the pain that would follow. He sure as hell didnât want to watch her die.
Besides, even if she did survive the Change, she wouldnât thank him for making her a werewolf. Maybe he could get her to fall in love with him first and agree to make the Change, but what if she refused after he told her about the Direkind? Sheâd know too much. The standard procedure was to bite oneâs human lover and then tell him or her the facts of werewolf life. Again, not something Jim had any interest in doing to Faith.
Face it, London, he thought grimly, youâre screwed.
Â
The next day, Faith pushed open the door to the briefing room where roll call was held. The three cops sitting at the long table fell silent and looked up. Their expressions cooled when they saw it was her.
Suppressing a frown, she gave them a nod. âHi, guys.â
Two nodded stiffly in return. The other watched her with brooding hostility.
She pulled out a chair and sat down, eyeing the three men. âIs there a bug going around, or did you boys stay up all night working that murder? You look like hell.â
âMind your ownââ Frank Granger began hotly, only to break off as if someone had kicked him under the table.
âThatâs right, Faith,â Gary Morrow told her with a stiff smile. âThe sergeant had us canvassing the neighborhood.â
Eyeing them, she decided she didnât buy it. Sheâd lingered on the scene later than they had, and she
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