Children of the Wolves by Jessica Starre Read Free Book Online Page A

happen. Never.
    â€œThat’s precisely what I’m telling you,” Amy said. They glanced at each other and snorted with laughter, ignoring the quelling looks directed towards them. “And not just a man,” she said. “Although I have moments when any man would do. But I want someone who has hidden depths. You know, like Viktor. Or Michael.”
    â€œMichael has no hidden depths,” Jelena said savagely, jabbing the needle into her thumb again.
    Amy glanced at her in surprise, opened her mouth to speak, paused, and then said, “You’re right, no hidden depths. How about Alaric?” which prompted Jelena into another snort of laughter. Alaric, with his ruddy face and rotund belly, his back-slapping camaraderie and his loud snores that Amy had frequently complained of, was not a man one would generally think of as having hidden depths, although Jelena could vouch for his ability to make sure everyone had a good time. Maybe hidden depths were overvalued. Maybe she should turn her attention to Alaric, who would never have let seven years pass without taking action.
    â€œWhat on earth are you finding so funny?” Teresa called across the room. A smile curved her lips but didn’t reach her eyes. Her smile rarely reached her eyes; her penetrating stare discomfited and prickled. Jelena and Amy were saved from the necessity of answering by the harried day-keeper who stuck her head in the room and announced, “Twelfth hour of the day! Time for evening meal! Twelfth hour!” before rushing off.
    Jelena and Amy scrambled to their feet, taking a few moments to tuck their sewing away and to close their chests and put them aside. They wouldn’t return to the workshop until the next day. Amy hooked her arm in Alaric’s, smiling broadly and giving Jelena a suggestive leer as she did so. Jelena smiled and shook her head as the two headed off to the dining hall.
    She took an extra moment to stretch the kinks out from sitting hunched over her work for several hours. How unproductive she’d been, she thought with a sigh. Fortunately, no one supervised her work; the people assumed that everyone gave their best effort and everyone did — except for times like today. But Jelena supposed everyone had off days, even the awakened, even the called. The unawakened probably did, too, but they wouldn’t dare indulge very often and would never draw attention to their idle hands by laughing as much as she and Amy had done today.
    Then Michael, whom she hadn’t seen enter the workroom, appeared beside her, making her start in surprise. He moved like one of the cougars they sometimes came across in the forest, Jelena thought disagreeably, springing from nowhere, always sudden, always unexpected, allowing no time to prepare or react. She stood rigid. His heat, his nearness, his very scent alerted her, aroused her. With no time to prepare she was afraid her reaction showed on her face, in the softening of her lips or the light of desire in her eyes. If he ever found out — if anyone ever found out —
    I saw the way you looked at Michael , Amy had said this afternoon.
    Jelena would have to hope that Amy never mentioned what she saw to anyone. She turned toward the door. His hand touched her shoulder and she stopped in her tracks, the stiffness leaving her body at the feel of his fingers against her skin. Standing behind her, he rubbed her tense shoulders gently with his warm, firm hands, his thumbs describing circles on the back of her neck, relaxing her body. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips before she jerked herself back to her senses and stepped away from him, saying impersonally, “Thank you, that helped a lot.”
    Michael gave her a curious look but let her go. He didn’t say anything. Much of the time she could bear his touch without desperately wanting more, but other times — other times she could not. Other times, like today, she wanted — she wanted