Kurt Dandridge wasn’t an ordinary man. She’d known it since the day they’d met. It had been a brief introduction. Her then husband—her children’s father—had been fighting for his life, but she’d still noticed Kurt and admired that unique raw quality of true masculine hunger. At that time in her life she hadn’t thought that he had looked at her specifically with need or lust in his eyes. Instead, he’d looked at the world with mysterious wonder, raw and passionate longing. Kurt was an eager man, a shifter who undoubtedly wanted revenge with a wolf living inside him, an animal just spiteful enough to look at the outside world with enough scrutiny to question anyone and everyone who stepped in his way to prevent him from taking what he wanted. At that time, he’d clearly wanted to stop a killer. He was there to put the bullet in a murderer’s skull. His passion had been remarkable, just as it was extraordinary now.
