Page 91 of Auctioned for Her Blood

Still shadowed, he rises, his back toward me.

Unsure what I’m seeing, unwilling to believe my eyes, I stop in shock.

Because my eyes claim to be seeing the back of…not a bear but a man. A very large man, his shoulders wider than any I’ve seen, and his butt cheeks like two perfectly round boulders of muscle.

In fact, now that my eyes are adjusting to the light, this man is entirely composed of muscle. Zero fat. It’s like looking at a photo of a body builder in full pose, but less grotesque, more like an oversized sculpture of the ideal male anatomy carved out of marble.

My mouth is dry. Drier now than even before Zuben fed me. And I still don’t trust my eyes.

The man, or whatever he is, turns toward me and walks forward—slowly. The front of his body is just as impressive as the back, including what’s hanging between his legs, even as I fight to keep my eyes off it.

He takes a step from the shadows, and his body is bathed in torchlight that seems to want to lick every inch of him, to accentuate every dip and divot, every plane and mound of him.

Or maybe it’s me who wants to do the licking.

His extremely broad chest is enhanced by a very manly dusting of dark hair, reminding me that moments ago he was a bear, and he runs his hand through a thick, matching mane on his head, pulling it back to reveal striking gold eyes and a ruggedly handsome face with a closely trimmed beard.

“Go!” he says, in a voice so hoarse and so deep that it consumes the space between us, rumbling through me with the force of an earthquake.

But I’m too shocked, too curious to run. “Who are you?” I ask. “More to the point—whatare you?”

“Get out of here!” he yells. “Leave me alone or I’ll have you for dinner!”

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