Scent of darkness christina dodd pdf
The main characters of this fantasy, paranormal story are Jasha Wilder, Ann Smith. The book has been awarded with , and many others. Please note that the tricks or techniques listed in this pdf are either fictional or claimed to work by its creator. We do not guarantee that these techniques will work for you. Some of the techniques listed in Scent of Darkness may require a sound knowledge of Hypnosis, users are advised to either leave those sections or must have a basic understanding of the subject before practicing them.
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Did Jasha have a dog? Or had someone who was not Jasha — someone crazy, someone Ted Kaczynski — shot him and walked into his house with some sort of ferocious animal? She felt silly. She was plain Ann Smith, administrative assistant and nerd. Nothing dramatic ever happened to her. Yet she tasted fear. Taking off her stiletto heels, she held one in each hand as she walked quietly down the corridor.
She paused on the balcony. A dog stood facing the fire. He was huge, with a black-and-silver coat that gleamed with red and gold in the flames. He was growling, a constant, low rumble of displeasure rising from deep in his chest.
Then the dog turned his head, and his pointed snout and white-fanged snarl sent her scurrying back against the wall. Her heart pounded so hard it thundered in her ears. Her face flushed with fury, and she sidled forward again. She slid along the rail, examining the great room from every angle.
Somehow the thing had broken into the house. His rumblings had subsided, but she knew he was dangerous. A killer. A predator. Return to my room. Lock the door. Call Jasha on his cell and warn him. Then call so they could get animal services out here …. The new car smell … Jasha's soap … I have to be.
He looked … longer. His muscular shoulders had lost hair, and his ears … his ears grew bare and rounded, and slid down the side of his head.
The wolf had begun to … had begun to resemble a man. Had begun to resemble Jasha. Drawn by the same fascination that always plagued her in Jasha's presence, she walked toward the top of the stairs.
She had no plan; her mind was empty of anything but shock, but she never took her gaze off the wolf, and she walked carefully, making no sound on the hardwood. Her blood stirred. Her skin grew sensitive. The air in the house had grown thick and heated. She recognized the signs.
That was Jasha. That … that thing was really Jasha. And apparently she was the weirdest perv ever to walk the earth, for even in the midst of her madness, she found the sight of his bare, toned butt riveting.
She wanted to shut her eyes against the sight, to take a deep breath and give herself a stern warning of the dangers she faced. The transition was happening slowly, and once or twice, it — he — groaned as if the growth and change of his bones pained him. The paws became hands, large hands with Jasha's long fingers, and he used those fingers to push back his hair in a gesture she recognized as exasperation and worry.
With each step down the stairs, her frozen disbelief became certainty … and fear. The man she adored … was a wolf. A beast. Her keys were on the end table by the door.