Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

            “What a beauty you are, Kereny.” His gaze went molten as it leisurely roamed over her. His spellbinder’s smile revealed white, even teeth. “You take my breath away.”

            Her mind momentarily blanked at that smile. It called on her body to relax, but she couldn’t.

            She’d never had more work to do. “Magic can do wonders,” she said crisply, though the Dream Duds had taken some getting used to.

            When she’d applied the charm to her forearm, her skin had absorbed it. In moments, the blood and mud covering her had disappeared until her hair and body smelled as if she’d just stepped from a bath.

            She’d imagined clothes, then sucked in a breath when silk underpants and a bandeau brassiere appeared. Next had come a white blouse, fawn-colored pants, and a fitted vest like the cobalt one Vanda had embroidered for her. Sleek hunting boots and a new holster for her blade had rounded out her ensemble.

            As the holster materialized around her upper arm, the compression had reassured her. Time to get to work. . . .

            The wolf drew closer, giving her a hint of his stone-pine scent, and her heartbeat thudded. “Once you have hearing like mine,” he murmured, “you’ll know my heart reacts the same way to you.”

            Warmth flushed her cheeks. “Then by all means, I must become a Lykae at once.” She snapped her fingers in the air. “A magical ring, please!”

            He chuckled, a rich, raspy sound that made her belly clench. Still smiling, he said, “The nymphs just brought over our meal.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?” So now he was to be all charm and good humor?

            When she took his arm, potent chemistry sparked between them. Damn that wolf. Even Jacob had seen some kind of tie between her and the Lykae.

            As they headed to the dining area, she used the time to collect herself, which meant looking at anything but the towering male beside her.

            The guesthouse enchanted her anew. Tasteful tapestries adorned the walls, and wood beams curved along the ceilings. The windows displayed twilight views of the spectacular Transylvanian landscape.

            To the east, the Carpathians loomed, bordered by the Cursed Forest. To the west spread verdant hills, dotted with shepherd huts.

            Maybe once she returned to her time, she would bring Jacob to this valley and tell him all about her unbelievable adventure.

            In the meantime, she and Munro would be forced to share this “romantic” guesthouse—home of many conceptions. Iona expected Ren and Munro to consummate their matehood tonight. Did he?

            At the idea, tingles raced from Ren’s scalp to her toes.

            “You’re wearing your poker face,” he said. “Our battle of wills is afoot, no?”

            She cast him a confident smile. “Oh, Munro, you’ll only be able to discern my moves in retrospect.” He had no idea of her grand plans—or his role in them.

            Eyes lively, he said, “I look forward to it.”

            They entered the dining room. Candles on the table and a fire in the tiled hearth lent the area a soft glow. The opened windows allowed in the tinkling cadence of wind chimes.

            Aromatic scents carried from steaming platters. Despite her nervousness—what exactly would a Lykae eat?—her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had a bite since before the wedding. She and Vanda had taken a light repast, enjoying fruit, spiced tea, and sparkling conversation. At the memory, a pang twisted Ren’s chest.

            Munro pulled out a high-backed chair near the fire and gestured for her to sit.

            She obliged him. “One could almost mistake you for a gentleman.”

            “Relish this moment, then, for that is no’ often the case.” He crossed to the sideboard. “What’s your drink?”

            “Brandy. A small amount.”

            He poured one for her and a whiskey for himself. Aside from his short black claws, his hands and fingers looked human and were as well-formed as everything else about him.

            As he offered her the brandy, their fingers touched. When currents jolted between them from that tiny contact, doubts arose about her plan. What if Lothaire didn’t get back to Loa for years? Ren feared she wouldn’t be able to resist this chemistry for another night, much less a decade!