His perfect features came from the happy combination of very different genes, but the grace of his stride came from the accident that had turned him into a werewolf.
He liked nice clothes, and the crisp cotton shirt he wore probably cost more than I made in a week.
I didn't know how old he was, but I was pretty sure he wasn't much older than he looked.
There's something about the older wolves, an air they carry of being not quite of this age of cars, cell phones, and TVs, that Darryl didn't have.
Peter was old enough to have been in the cavalry, but here and now he worked as a plumber.
He was good at his job, and he had a half dozen people (human) on his payroll.
But he walked to the right and behind Darryl because Darryl was very dominant and Peter was one of the few submissives in Adam's pack.
Darryl stopped at the foot of the porch.
He didn't like me much most of the time.
I'd finally decided it was snobbery--he was a wolf and I a coyote.
He was a Ph.D. working in a high-priced think tank, and I was a mechanic with dirt under my fingernails.
And worst of all, if I was Adam's mate, he had to follow my orders.
Sometimes the chauvinism that permeates the rules by which the werewolves operate works backward.
No matter how submissive the mate of the Alpha is, her commands are second only to his.
When he didn't say anything, I just opened the door and led Adam's two wolves into my home.
2
STEFAN WASN'T AMENABLE TO CHANGING DONORS, SO Peter and Darryl knelt, one on either side, and began to pry his grip loose.
When I approached to help, Adam snarled at me.
If he hadn't snarled, I'd probably have let the wolves take care of it.
After all, they all have awesome werewolf superstrength.
But if Adam and I were going to have a relationship, something that was giving me butterflies already, it was going to be on an equal footing.
I couldn't afford to back down when Adam growled.
Besides, I despised the cowardly part of me that flinched at his anger.
Even if I was pretty sure it was the smart part.
Peter and Darryl were working on Stefan's hands, so I went to his head.
I slipped my fingers into one side of his mouth, hoping that vampires had the same reaction to pressure points as the rest of us.
But I didn't need to use any nerve pinches, because as soon as my fingers touched his mouth, he shuddered and released Adam, his arms going limp at the same time as he pulled his fangs out.
"Won't," Stefan said as I pulled my fingers out of his mouth.
"Won't." It came out a whisper and faded eerily as he ran out of air.
His head moved until he rested against my shoulder, his eyes closed.