[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Abandoning the bills and junk mail on her desk in the kitchen s
office nook, she clicked on a stained glass Tiffany lamp. It washed the
surrounding area in a warm glow.
She sliced an Asian pear and poured a glass of port. The fruit s
complex flavor and crisp texture mixed well with the musky liquor.
Settling into her office chair, she booted up her PC and munched on the
pear. She had papers to grade, lectures to refresh for next week, but the
paper she d worked on for the past two months beckoned to her. It
explored the usage of lupine shape shifter lore in contemporary fiction,
focusing particularly on a local tale of four brothers, each who inherited a
piece of their father s domain. They d been groomed since birth to take
over leadership of the largest clan of loup garou in an area that once was
the English Colonies.
After researching the legends, she realized why Matéo had been so
annoyed by the Hollywood version of wolf men. Though traditional
werewolf stories did imbue the creatures with immortality and a
dependence on the full moon to change shape, ancient loup garou
mythology spoke of a different species of shifter. First of all, the ability
wasn t a communicable condition. One either was loup garou or one was
not. There was none of this contagion by bite nonsense. And they could
change at will; the full moon had no bearing on their ability to assume
38
Hour of the Wolf by CJ Elliott
either the lycan or human form. Not to mention that they weren t
immortal. Tripling the outer limits of a human lifespan, they could live for
centuries, but they could become wounded or sick or die an untimely
death. That they happened to have a stronger physical and metaphysical
fortitude than ordinary people or wolves had perhaps given rise to
misconception of immortality. Loup garou tended to keep their existence
hidden from les etrangers as non shifters were called considering the
species inferior.
Perhaps for good reason, Reese mused. She knew firsthand how
people treated others they couldn t understand.
She thought about her last night with Matéo at Smith Mountain
Lake. He d left without a word...or a whisper. Finally, someone who could
tell her lies. Or at the very least commit the sin of omission, something she
couldn t wait to taste again. Winter break at the cabin couldn t come fast
enough.
Pushing aside the intoxicating memories, she forced herself to focus
on her work. After a couple hours, she prepared a Waldorf salad and
finished the simple meal with a cup of herbal tisane. A glance at her watch
told her it was bedtime. Her seven o clock morning class would roll
around all too soon.
She washed her few dishes from dinner and switched off the lights
downstairs. Up in her bedroom and master bath, she washed her face,
brushed her teeth and changed into soft, faded PJs before sliding between
the sheets.
A smile parted her lips as she thought of her now favorite Duran
Duran song and recited the lyrics in her mind. Soon, the heat she expected
warmed her and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. His scent. And his blue
eyes blazed behind her closed eyelids.
Good night, Téo.
Bonne nuit, ma chère. He wrapped his strong arms around her.
She hadn t yet mastered closing her mind to the maddening world,
but even if she had, she knew he would be there. Always inside her,
banishing wicked night.
39
Hour of the Wolf by CJ Elliott
Author Bio
CJ has been a writer for as long as she s been able to hold a pencil.
After several years as a technical writer, a vivid nightmare inspired her
first published story The Wedding Feast. She writes horror, suspense,
and thrillers.
CJ grew up as a military brat. During her childhood she lived in
North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, Texas, Hawaii, Jamaica, and
Virginia. Currently, she and her family call Northern Virginia home.
Visit her at http://cjelliottbooks.com/ and explore her contemporary
romances and erotica at http://cindyjacks.com/
40 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl ocenkijessi.opx.pl
Abandoning the bills and junk mail on her desk in the kitchen s
office nook, she clicked on a stained glass Tiffany lamp. It washed the
surrounding area in a warm glow.
She sliced an Asian pear and poured a glass of port. The fruit s
complex flavor and crisp texture mixed well with the musky liquor.
Settling into her office chair, she booted up her PC and munched on the
pear. She had papers to grade, lectures to refresh for next week, but the
paper she d worked on for the past two months beckoned to her. It
explored the usage of lupine shape shifter lore in contemporary fiction,
focusing particularly on a local tale of four brothers, each who inherited a
piece of their father s domain. They d been groomed since birth to take
over leadership of the largest clan of loup garou in an area that once was
the English Colonies.
After researching the legends, she realized why Matéo had been so
annoyed by the Hollywood version of wolf men. Though traditional
werewolf stories did imbue the creatures with immortality and a
dependence on the full moon to change shape, ancient loup garou
mythology spoke of a different species of shifter. First of all, the ability
wasn t a communicable condition. One either was loup garou or one was
not. There was none of this contagion by bite nonsense. And they could
change at will; the full moon had no bearing on their ability to assume
38
Hour of the Wolf by CJ Elliott
either the lycan or human form. Not to mention that they weren t
immortal. Tripling the outer limits of a human lifespan, they could live for
centuries, but they could become wounded or sick or die an untimely
death. That they happened to have a stronger physical and metaphysical
fortitude than ordinary people or wolves had perhaps given rise to
misconception of immortality. Loup garou tended to keep their existence
hidden from les etrangers as non shifters were called considering the
species inferior.
Perhaps for good reason, Reese mused. She knew firsthand how
people treated others they couldn t understand.
She thought about her last night with Matéo at Smith Mountain
Lake. He d left without a word...or a whisper. Finally, someone who could
tell her lies. Or at the very least commit the sin of omission, something she
couldn t wait to taste again. Winter break at the cabin couldn t come fast
enough.
Pushing aside the intoxicating memories, she forced herself to focus
on her work. After a couple hours, she prepared a Waldorf salad and
finished the simple meal with a cup of herbal tisane. A glance at her watch
told her it was bedtime. Her seven o clock morning class would roll
around all too soon.
She washed her few dishes from dinner and switched off the lights
downstairs. Up in her bedroom and master bath, she washed her face,
brushed her teeth and changed into soft, faded PJs before sliding between
the sheets.
A smile parted her lips as she thought of her now favorite Duran
Duran song and recited the lyrics in her mind. Soon, the heat she expected
warmed her and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. His scent. And his blue
eyes blazed behind her closed eyelids.
Good night, Téo.
Bonne nuit, ma chère. He wrapped his strong arms around her.
She hadn t yet mastered closing her mind to the maddening world,
but even if she had, she knew he would be there. Always inside her,
banishing wicked night.
39
Hour of the Wolf by CJ Elliott
Author Bio
CJ has been a writer for as long as she s been able to hold a pencil.
After several years as a technical writer, a vivid nightmare inspired her
first published story The Wedding Feast. She writes horror, suspense,
and thrillers.
CJ grew up as a military brat. During her childhood she lived in
North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama, Texas, Hawaii, Jamaica, and
Virginia. Currently, she and her family call Northern Virginia home.
Visit her at http://cjelliottbooks.com/ and explore her contemporary
romances and erotica at http://cindyjacks.com/
40 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]