Karen Whiddon - The Wolf Princess

It felt … right . More than that. Perfect. Braden had dreamed of this, ached for this, in truth ever since he’d first heard the sexy sound of her throaty voice.

Crazy. Foolish. And not at all like him.

Despite this, he craved more, much more. He wanted to do things with her that someone like him had no business wanting to do with a royal princess.

And that was enough reason to make him realize he needed to stop. Right this instant.

He broke off the kiss and moved away, feeling oddly bereft. “My apologies,” he told her, stiffly formal. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I didn’t mind.” Rather than furious, she sounded strangely elated. “Why apologize for something we both clearly enjoyed?”

Enjoyed?

Dear Reader,

Nearly every little girl dreams of being a princess, which made me wonder if princesses dreamed of being … ordinary. Not boring ordinary, but a regular person who could go to college, hit the mall for sales and stroll the beach without notice. And a shape-shifter princess would have it far worse—the only time she could be like everyone else would be when she became a wolf.

The Wolf Princess is about such a woman.

The youngest daughter in the royal family of the fictional country of Teslinko, she is sought after, stared at and talked about. And when a blind doctor travels from America to study her, that seems to be the last straw.

Instead, she learns her new life has just begun.

The sequel to this title, The Wolf Prince , will be out next year. Both brother and sister have their own journey and, though they might seem diametrically opposed, they are actually pretty similar—both headed toward love. After all, that’s what life is really all about.

Sincerely,

Karen Whiddon

KAREN WHIDDONstarted weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amidst the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty that surrounded her. Karen now lives in north Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing. You can e-mail Karen at KWhiddon1@aol.com or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all the readers who write to me, whether by e-mail or paper and pen, thank you for your notes. They mean the world to this busy writer. Again, thank you.

Princess Alisa of Teslinko’s first hint that the man waiting for her at her family’s table was trouble was the fact that he wore dark glasses—even inside the palace dining room, where the candle-illuminated table made the light relatively dim.

Her second hint, his unabashedly scruffy appearance—from his rumpled black hair to his disheveled, too-casual clothes. Usually when suitors—even those from other countries—visited royalty, they made sure to look their best, even for her. The fact that he hadn’t bothered told her he either honestly didn’t care, or worse, didn’t know any better.

Either way, as she made her way toward him, she grudgingly admired him for his boldness in daring to be different. She had to admit, it pricked her interest, especially since she was different herself. Someone like him was a welcome change from the usual ass-kissers who came seeking her hand. Though she knew she’d eventually have to choose one of them, so far she hadn’t been able to get past the fact that every single one of them felt more infatuated with her money and status than her.

And now this man, apparently the latest in a long queue of minor Pack royalty.

Head up, dark glasses obscuring his face, he ignored her as she drew closer. This gave her pause. He didn’t turn toward her and flash his teeth in a patently false smile or dip his perfectly cleft chin in acknowledgment or even give any outward sign that he noticed her approach. Except for the slight flaring of his nostrils, he might have been completely oblivious.

Barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes, she made her way to the table, affecting a pleasant smile that she hoped hid her frustration. Lately her parents had been focused obsessively on marrying her off, as though they had some sort of checklist of their children’s names and hers was the next one on it. It didn’t help that she was not as beautiful as her two older sisters or that she was known around Teslinko as a bit of a brainiac.

And here sat yet another one of her parents’ finds.

There was a second or two of extreme awkwardness when she reached them. Her father gallantly stood, while her mother and the stranger remained seated. Alisa couldn’t believe it. She’d never had a visitor—suitor or otherwise—act in such a deliberately boorish manner.

Finally, as though by second thought, he pushed back his chair and stood, tilting his head as her father performed the introductions. His title and name—Doctor Something—barely registered as she studied him, wondering why he looked so familiar, when in fact she knew they’d never met.

“Princess Alisa, I’m honored to meet you.”

About to make some pithy comment, Alisa froze. Stunned, she couldn’t at first form a reply. The richness of his sensual voice rolled over her like molten caramel. Her reaction shocked her. Quite frankly, she hadn’t been expecting this at all.

Despite herself, she shivered. Hellhounds.

Gathering her shredded composure, she inclined her head. She could do this. After all, she was a princess, well schooled in affecting grace in all sorts of unique situations. One rude stranger with a voice as rich as sin couldn’t even put a dent in her composure.

Regally, she held out her hand, absently wondering if he’d kiss it or simply take it in a weak clasp before releasing it. When he did neither, her heart rate increased and her face heated. Swallowing hard as this next bit of discourtesy forced her to slowly lower her arm, she glanced at her father to see how he was taking all this. Such impossible behavior should not be tolerated. At the very least, this man should be given a severe dressing down. Or, even better, sent packing.

But instead of wearing a thunderous frown, King Leo simply pulled out her chair for Alisa, indicating with a dip of his chin that she should sit.

Really? Biting back a retort, she did. Once she’d gotten seated, Dr. Rude-with-sunglasses-still-on did the same.

Great. Her parents weren’t going to let her off the hook so easily. She’d have no choice but to smile and somehow get through what promised to be the dreariest hour she’d spent in weeks. Months, even. Which just went to show exactly how far her parents were willing to go to procure a husband for their plain and brainy daughter. They refused to accept the fact that Alisa did not want to get married. Not yet, maybe not ever.

Barely curbing her impatience, she schooled her face into a bland sort of pleasantness. Though she realized how excruciatingly long this luncheon just might be, part of her job as princess was making sure her visitor had no idea that she wanted to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.