Staring Into the Eyes of Chance Read Free Page A

with me. Meet you at the club-house.”
    A howl in the distance threw Chance into alert mode. He’d tracked this pack himself, not only because they went against Lycan laws by killing innocents, but they did it in a most elusive way. They vanished many times without leaving any scent trails.
    Tonight Chance came close to capturing Smoke. But, for that woman, the one he couldn’t banish from his memory anymore than he could have stopped her from distracting him as he closed in on the rogue leader. Just the thought of her fired his cock into attention. Chance never experienced anything like her in his past; no woman claimed so much power over him. His right hand fisted around his heavy shaft.
    He had turned away from Smoke for one moment and in the next moment he was gone without a trace. Then again, after Chance’s interaction with the female, he confronted the rogue alpha, and then lost Smoke a second time. Arousal fled and frustration settled in.
    Chance howled in human-form and within seconds, in a flurry of bones cracking, muscles stretching, claws and fangs extending, he transformed into his furry self.
    He ran back to Blue, his midnight blue Dodge truck, parked along a two-track on the public land. Chance shifted into his human form, gathered his clothes from the truck seat, and dressed quickly. He climbed in, started his truck, and then maneuvered onto the main road, turning toward the lone woman’s home.
    An eight-foot fence ran along the roadside, enclosing a huge wooded area. With his window down, he scented for her, but instead picked up Smoke. The same scent had eluded him only a short time ago. He stopped the truck, pulled a tranquilizer hand gun from his glove box, and got out.
    “I know you’re close, you son-of-a… Show yourself.”
    Smoke’s scent grew stronger, like a rabid killer, so familiar and yet different. Chance set himself into a battle stance, prepared for attack, tranquilizer gun in hand.
    “Come out, coward,” Chance yelled. The rogue’s scent came at Chance from all directions, so close, and suddenly it drifted away until Chance couldn’t scent the rogue alpha at all.
    What is this guy’s game?
    An eerie prickle combed over his scalp, shooting a deep worry for the woman he’d seen earlier. He assumed she lived alone. He jumped back into the truck and drove down the road until he came upon a two-track drive. His truck lights flashed across a large mailbox listed as Bentley, 120 Wayward Road , beneath hung a wooden sign, Nature’s Friends In Need Wildlife Refuge and Preserve.
    Chance cut off his truck lights and swerved into the drive.
    Ms. Bentley, here I come.
    He drove about half a mile along the winding wooded drive before he saw her house. He backed up, losing sight of it and parked off the edge. At eleven o’clock, she should be inside for the night. Chance figured she’d have another motion detecting light in her front yard, like in her back. He picked up a dog scent, maybe a week old, nothing fresh.
    His night vision cued in on the motion sensors near the light fixtures. He found a black-out spot, stooped low and crept closer to the house. If he stuck near the siding he would go undetected. There were no active laser beam set-ups or cameras.
    Spindly residual threads of Smoke’s scent hung in the air, not fresh, but Chance kept running into it. So the rogue must have paid a visit.
    Chance moved, his body sleek and stealth, toward the only window interrupting the darkness with a soft glowing light. He leaned against the siding and angled his head, peering inside.
    His breath caught as she stepped out of a sunken bathtub. Her backside, slender and shapely, showed a dark ridge of bruising along her spine. She turned, dipping slowly, as if in pain, and retrieved a towel lying on the floor. When she rose, he saw her breasts, smallish, the size of ripe apples with his paw prints stamped above her taut rosebud nipples. A rush of blood went south and pooled into