This scene still makes my teeth chatter. Having spent some time in the White Mountains of New Hampshire where this book is set, I can tell you, the cold there is all consuming. Kendall is so lucky that a Deveraux stumbled across her because she would have been a Popsicle before too long.
—
Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf
She looked like an angel, a cherub, with glossy pink lips. With a bloody gash across her forehead and — was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe too.
A fierce wind howled over head, making the trees sway and groan. She gave a soft moan, and then, as if she’d awoken, her body went rigid.
“You’re okay, petit. Just relax. Where do you hurt?”
Stunning aqua blue eyes met his for an instant before she closed them again, wincing. The fear he’d glimpsed there shocked him. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. He leaned toward her to hear over the roar of the elements. “Don’t let…him…take me.”
SOUND OFF
Are you one of those rare folks who likes the cold? Or would you prefer to live somewhere warm? (Leave a comment below)
