Lost Creek Hollow the prayer of the apostle paul

he is pleased at the way she watches him, how a smile slides over her face like the spreading of cards on crushed velvet.

i am jacint kanaani! he declares. i hunt and i sing. my mother herself was a singer by trade, and my father a priest. briefly, his mind flashes back to samyaza and hualit, his brothers. the two of them had struck out on their own nearly a year ago now. he wonders if they, too, had found and followed the cosmic pulse of the life-giver.

she is yardna in the body of a wolf as she steps forwards. readily, he shows her the off-white fur at his throat, bared and vulnerable in all its pallor.

what do you call yourself, senhoreta? from below, his molten eyes catch on her mouth.