Rurik stopped and stared in awe. The runner was glorious, her breath unfurling though she hardly panted. Wavy red hair, as long as her waist, fluttered around her like a tattered cape, glittering with snow. The color was and radiant against the tundra.
She was almost on top of him, but hadn’t spotted him yet, his fur camouflaging him against the snow. Her scent was the best thing he’d ever smelled, like dessert with a hint of woman.
A yip escaped him—his fox had taken over, equally hungry and aroused.
She started, skidding to a halt and kicking up snow. She looked around. His white fur camouflaged him, and she didn’t see him until he moved. He stilled when she stiffened. Her sparkling green eyes were wide and alarmed, but she didn’t smell like fear. Taking a deeper whiff, identifying scents of cloves and ginger, he came to the impossible conclusion that the delicious aroma was her. Not dessert in her pack or a perfume she wore. Her. He couldn’t help but lick his chops.
She huffed. “I’m not for dinner, fox. Go find a rabbit or something.”
He barked, amused. His tail had extended straight back, his fur puffing to the max, and his focus dropped to the v of her thighs. She shouldn’t have said that, because now all he could think about was eating her.
From my work-in-progress Gingerbread and the Fox, a short paranormal romance about an arctic fox shifter determined to capture and devour a woman who smells like gingerbread.