WHO CANNOT SEE by BA Tortuga

WHO CANNOT SEE by BA Tortuga

Blaze is on the run for being caught with another man, and the posse on his trail will never give up. Not that Blaze cares, half dead as he is from thirst and a near hanging.

Vampire Edmund is long past being interested in human affairs, but when he finds Blaze in his barn, he feels a deep connection that goes beyond sight. Can he save this young man and teach Blaze that their love is nothing to be ashamed of?

This story is also included in Eternally Dark Anthology.

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Excerpt:

Please, God. 

He’d done walked for days, hiding when he saw folks, knowing his mark of shame would be enough to send folks running for their rifles, and God knew he weren’t in no shape to outrun a bullet.
He’d done used up every ounce of luck he’d ever earned himself. 

Blaze Vernon swallowed, the fire in his throat bigger than the hunger that gnawed at him. Wasn’t going to be the hunger that killed him, though. No sir.

That was going to be the thirst. He’d managed a few drinks, the first days after the hanging rope broke on him, but not since. His throat was closed tighter than a nun’s business and the bubbling creek laughed at him, all that clean mountain water a taunt he couldn’t take in.

He leaned against a good-sized aspen, sucking air.

Three days he’d been up among the gray-barked trunks, the leaves shaking in the breeze and making him watch his back trail. He had a feeling he was going in circles. 

Maybe tonight would be the night he froze. He prayed it would be painless. 

The trees moaned, a heavy gust of wind signaling the coming night. The mountains got downright mean at dusk.

Please God. He just needed somewhere safe to sleep, pray that he could heal enough to drink, to have a bite of food. Then he could head for California. A man could begin again there, he heard.

Blaze staggered, then righted himself, hand on a tree trunk. He couldn’t stay right where he was, so he turned in a full circle, squinting into the gathering dark.

Whoa, now. Was that a light?

Okay. 

Okay. That was a tiny sliver of flickering fire. A lamp, perhaps.

He forced himself to follow it, to stumble forward, shamble along. His feet dragged through the fallen leaves, his toes cold from the holes in his boots.

There was a light. A house, even, although his eyes couldn’t believe the size of it. How had he not seen this before now? The place looked like a storybook castle, one his momma might have talked about from the old country, her Irish lilt dearly missed. 

Anything this size would have barns, outbuildings, yes? He stayed to the heaviest shelter of the trees, the snow beginning to fall as he searched. Yes. Hidden away behind the huge stone edifice were smaller, neatly kept outbuildings. A place to sleep. 

He crept across the clearing, staying low, nearly crawling as he wheezed and grunted each painful step out. His hands started to bleed, his skin so dry it began to crack. If he didn’t freeze, he’d blow away.

Please God, he prayed again. I just need to sleep.

The barn door opened when he tugged, the rollers well-oiled so no sound came from it. Hallelujah.
He closed the snow and the wind out, finding an empty stall, clean straw. He collapsed into it with a soft sob. The sound tore his throat, choking him a bit. 

Thank you, he thought. Better to die here than frozen in woods to not be found ‘til spring. He didn’t have the energy to dig into the straw or to try and find a blanket.

He wasn’t sure it would make a difference, anyhow. Death was a’comin’. It was just a matter of time.

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SAY SOMETHING by BA Tortuga

SAY SOMETHING by BA Tortuga 

Jenson has loved Mike his whole life, but he has never known how to tell Mike how he feels.

After high school Mike leaves for college and his Hollywood dream, while cowboy Jenson stays behind in their small East Texas hometown. Neither man knows what to say to go beyond friendship, even though they come together through all of the best and worst times of their lives.

The most amazing moments keep bringing them back together, but through huge love and terrible loss, sickness and health, their timing never seems right to take their relationship to the next level.

When the universe gives them one final chance, Jenson must overcome his fear and say the most important something before it's too late.


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Excerpt:

Chapter One

THE LAST weekend before school started was always a bitch of a letdown. This year was no damned exception, even if Jenson Thackerson didn’t have to go back. He’d graduated in May, maybe not with honors or nothin’, but with enough to get him a decent job, if his mom and dad decided to kick his ass off the little ranch they owned.

No, the letdown came from all of them taking Sandy Kinder’s big van down to Corpus and tearing it up for a long weekend. There, he could pretend that nothing was gonna change, that Mike Simon wasn’t going to leave in three days and go off to North Carolina to go to acting school.

“UNC has an acting school?” he’d asked when Mike had gotten the letter.

Mike had snorted, his blond hair all wild as he set to pulling out this big-assed book from the school library, and there it was. UNC. North Fucking Carolina. That was a twenty-four hour drive away from Podunk, Texas. Twenty-four hours and forever, might as well be.

Jenson wasn’t doing no more school if he could help it. Oh, if he got his ass kicked out and couldn’t get a job cowboying, he had the grades for trade school. He was okay with cars, decent with putting in a new light switch. He’d go for mechanic or electrician.

Mike had called about an hour ago, asked him to meet out at the cemetery after dark and bring some smokes, and he did it. Of course he did it. Daddy was already swimming in the bottle, and Momma was in her room with the dog-eared book she’d stolen from the library and her Marlboros, dreaming of a life that didn’t involve cow shit and washing stains out of boys’ underpants.

He parked his old Chevy out on the maintenance road and watched the last rays of the sun go down. He pulled out the pack of smokes and tapped the end against his palm a few times before pulling off the plastic. He’d have one while he waited.

The humidity made everything lazy, even the mosquitos, and he couldn’t help but think that tomorrow he was going to be out here, just another redneck driving down gravel roads acting like that was something special, and Mike would be in his perfectly clean little Toyota with his boxes and his books, heading to the East Coast.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Oh, not that Jenson wanted to go back East anywhere. What he wanted was Mike. The trip to the beach had given them some stolen kisses and a few quick gropes, but Jenson wanted more.

He wanted full-on naked. He wanted to fuck. He wanted to hear Mike beg for it. He knew Mike would.

The very thought made his dick hard in his jeans and made him curse when his cigarette burned his fingers.

He heard a husky chuckle. “You ever going to learn how to smoke, man?”

Jenson turned to see Mike wandering over, coming to sit next to him on the tailgate. On the wrong damned side.

“Scoot, man,” Mike said, and he did, because he was always willing to do for Mike.

“What’s up, Mike?”

“Been a long couple days. You?”

“Been trying to decide if I have to apply for jobs.” He sighed. “You all packed?”

“I am. Yeah. I wish you were coming. It looks like a kick-ass campus.” Mike took a smoke, lit it, and the flame shuddered in the wind.

“I ain’t smart like you.” What else could he say?

“I’m not all that. I just….” Mike shrugged. What was Mike going to say? That Mike had tried? Because that was the God’s honest truth. Mike fought for it, worked hard.

Jenson did too. It just didn’t matter. He wasn’t school material. He lit another cigarette, trying not to cough. Lord.

“You think you’ll stay at home?”

Like it mattered. Neither one of them could afford long-distance phone calls, and Jenson, well, shit, he wasn’t much of a letter writer. Maybe postcards, if he remembered to buy stamps.

Jenson nodded. “If they’ll let me. If not, I’ll try cowboying out with the C Bar.” Mr. Carlson ran a huge Beefmaster operation.

“Such a cowboy.” Not like Mike. He was gonna be something bigger than a shiftless drover.

“I don’t know what else to do. Be a drunk like my dad, I guess.” He laughed, trying not to sound so damned bitter.

“I vote for cowboy over drunk, I think. Drunks are a little creepy. My mom knows lots.” Mike’s momma was a bartender over at the Rail. She scared him a little, being so hard and fierce, always broke and always fighting. She loved Mike, though, more than life.

“So does mine.” He gave up on the smoke, grinding it out on the old toolbox at the foot of the truck bed. “I wish you didn’t have to go, man.”

“I know, but I can’t stay here. It’s over for me here.”

“Why?” He was about to get his begging on. “Stay, Mike. Please. Just stay.”

“I can’t, Jen. They’re going to kill me.”

“What? Who? What the hell are you talking about, man?” He turned to look at Mike, finally, and reached out for his best friend.

Mike was staring away from him, out over the gravestones.

“Mike? What are you talking about?” Who would hurt any of them? They were just kids.

Mike turned to face him, and Jenson gasped, jerking back in pure surprise. A huge set of stitches stretched from eyebrow to chin, the skin raw and sliced to hell. Mike’s eye had this metal thing over it, and for a second it looked like his best friend was a robot. One of them kind that went berserk in the movies and shot sparks.

“Jesus. What happened?” He didn’t know what to do. His hands fluttered with the need to touch.

“Got jumped out at the fairgrounds. Said they wanted to make sure they never saw my fag face on the big screen.”

His mouth fell open. “Oh fuck. Oh God, Mikey.” He hadn’t called Mike that since grade school.

“I can’t stay here. Everyone knows about me. Everyone. I’m not like you, you know?”

What did that even mean? “Mike. I’m like you, and you know it.”

“I do, but no one else does. You got Allie at the dances. You can pass. Me? No one ever looks at me and thinks ladies’ man.” Mike touched his face, winced. “Now for sure I can’t be the romantic lead.”

“I’m sorry.” Had he done something? Had someone told about them kissing at the beach? Christ. “Mike….”

“Yeah.” Mike reached out, touched his hand.

He grabbed on, not daring to move any closer or do nothin’ else. He might hurt Mike if he tried anything else. “Promise me you’ll keep in touch somehow. I know it’s corny and all, but please.”

“I swear to God. I’d take you with me, if I knew how. I would, but….”

But he was still safe here, and Mike… Mike would always be queer, always be running. And what was a guy like him, like Jenson, going to do at a fancy college back East?

“That ain’t gonna happen. You need to be safe.”

“It isn’t. Once I figure it out, though, I’ll bring you. Show you everything.”

“I’d like that.” Hell, he’d even get an extra part-time gig and save his pennies, if he could go see Mike at school.

“It’s a promise.” Mike squeezed his fingers. “Can we sit here until morning, together? I’m heading out at 8:00 a.m., and I’ve never… you know. It’s a long way by myself.”

“We can.” He wanted more than just sitting, but he knew Mike needed strength and quiet, not grappling and groping and possibly getting caught doing crazy shit. He held Mike’s hand and waited for the sun to come, knowing he was losing something incredibly important, but not knowing how to keep it. Or even say it.

“It’s supposed to be amazing, man, growing up, right?”

“It’s a gyp.” He was convinced of that. Totally overrated.

“Yeah? Then when’s the good part?”

“I don’t know.” Jenson took a deep breath and squeezed Mike’s hand. He needed to cowboy up and be positive. Mike needed his good thoughts. “Maybe after you get out of college?”

“Maybe. I’m so fucking scared, man. These guys in the program are trained, good. They’ve done more than playing Li’l Abner in Mrs. Fincher’s yearly musical. And now there’s this.” He waved at his face. “I’m going to be a freak.”

“Is…?” Jenson swallowed hard. “Your eye, I mean. Is it…?”

“It’s got a scratch, that’s all. The cup deal is to keep the blood out of it.”

“Keep you from itching it too, huh?” Jenson chuckled, the sound dry as a bone. “You’ll be dashing.”

“I’ll be the scary serial killer, maybe. Mom says if I’m lucky, it’ll only be a thin scar.”

“Just take care of it.” He rubbed his thumb over Mike’s knuckles.

“Yeah…. I’ve never not lived in the same town as you before.”

“I’ll miss you.” Now they were just getting sappy. Jenson looped his fingers around Mike’s wrist, turning back to the sky.

At some point Jenson fell asleep, leaning on the wheel well of his truck, and when he woke up, Mike was gone, the sun was up, and it was over.

They’d said they’d call and shit; Mike had said they’d visit somehow. Jenson wasn’t sure how it was possible, let alone probable. He felt more alone than he had in more than ten years, since him and Mikey had become inseparable.

He couldn’t imagine how Mike felt. Jenson couldn’t even try to know.

All Jenson could try was to go to the ranch and get to work.

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BOO by Ba Tortuga

BOO by BA Tortuga

Boo! Things that go bump in the night rub together in these paranormal shorts from BA Tortuga. From vampires and werewolves, to cowboys and Vikings, to the silliest Halloween costume ever, the boys of Boo are hot, complicated and oh, so ready to see what the night holds for them.


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Excerpt:

"Daniel, Father Vincent says you must."

"But..." Daniel groaned, meeting Sister Abby's eyes in something incredibly close to panic. Texas? He had to go all the way back to Texas and see Declan? Really? He’d done so well, for so long.

"You want to advance to the next level of enlightenment, don't you? It's been five years since you came to us. Five years since your... loss of control. You must face your demons." Her hand patted his, her eyes black as holes in her lean face. She'd been the first person he'd met, once he'd passed the trials, passed the bad times, stopped listening to the sounds of his mother's screams, Declan's roars. 

She'd helped him through the last brutal year, through the agony of his daily affirmations.

Abby was his savior, the one who'd supported him month after month, helping him overcome his baser urges.

Still, this would be Hell -- to go home, to look into those bright, amazing eyes and ask forgiveness. 

Declan had been the hardest part of the separation process. Declan, who smelled like home and looked like a primal god. Declan who haunted his dreams, who made him want... awful things.

Terrible things.

Wonderful things.

"Daniel!" Abby's voice snapped through the air, and she swatted him with a paper. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" 

"Fantasizing. One must face the reality of their situation. You will go, you will make peace, and you will return."

"The reality." He nodded, looked down at his pale, lean hands. Once they'd been tanned, clever, working leather and tack and now? Now he did the organization's books. "Okay. I'll go. It'll take me three days to get there. Three days to get back."

"Take whatever time you need. We'll be here, waiting for you, brother."

"Thanks." He shook his head, though, knowing this would be easier said than done.

"Have faith. Be strong. I did this, you can, too." She nodded to him, then stood. "Come back safe, brother."

He nodded, sighed, and grabbed his duffel bag. Safe. Right. He fucking hated Texas.

Nothing good ever happened to him there.

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DECONSTRUCTING CHANNING by BA Tortuga

DECONSTRUCTING CHANNING by BA Tortuga

When they were young together back in their werecat pride, Bowie and Channing experimented with love and sex, as well as flirting with a threesome with their best friend Emma. Channing and Emma both ran from their needs, leaving Bowie to break away and find his own life. Now a confident Dom, Bowie discovers Channing again through a video of a consummate sub, one Bowie knows he needs to find once more.

When Bowie shows up on his doorstep, Channing feels like a teenager again, all confusion and need. He doesn’t date his own kind, only humans, and he’s not in the market for a full-time Master. Bowie is impossible to deny, a force of nature, and while both men know they’ll have to think about Emma eventually, now is the time to see if they can get to know and love each other all over again.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, please exit this site.

An Excerpt From: DECONSTRUCTING CHANNING

Copyright © BA TORTUGA, 2014

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.



Bowie took the train to L.A. There was something so decadent about the Coast Starlight, especially when he got a private sleeper. The steady bub-bub-bub of the wheels on the track was oddly musical and he found himself nodding along with it at the oddest times. He only ventured out to eat in the dining car at first, before boredom took him and he wandered around and played solitaire in the club car.

The trip was designed to give him time. Time to figure out what he was going to say to Channing Lanier when he saw the sorry son of a bitch again.

He could start with “Hey, you rat bastard. Amazing how you came out after you dropped me like a hot rock”. That would be fun. Or maybe “I thought you weren’t into spanking and bondage, and your precious asshole was sacrosanct, but now you’re a bottom in the underground BDSM scene” would work better.

Bowie wouldn’t even be going to see said bottoming asshole if it wasn’t for the flyer tucked neatly away in his briefcase.

Tawny Catnip.

Seriously?

Their Emma was a fucking stripper?

A Vegas stripper? The revue was touted as a classy burlesque show and topless nightclub called Catnip Crazy.

Hell, the crazy thing was that both of his ex-lovers had called him a goddamn perv.

Him. Because he’d wanted them both. Because he’d wanted Emma over his lap. Because he’d wanted to see Channing bound and on his knees between the both of them.

Fuckers.

Bowie guessed he’d been lucky, to be so damn young and know what he wanted, who he was. Emma had been the spark that set him alight, his alpha female, the one who would stand beside him forever and love him. And Channing—their beta male—was caring and real and nurturing and…

Right.

He’d bared his soul one night after an evening of beer and firelight and awkward, desperate kisses, wild humping under rough blankets, Emma caught between them. He’d told them what he’d seen in the depths of the flames during his initiation into the pride, what his heart had told him. Channing had been the first to go, shifting into the lean golden cougar that Bowie had loved since he was a child, spitting and hissing, refusing them.

Emma had left next, in the dull gray of early morning, tears streaking her face.

A triad couldn’t survive with just two, she’d said. Better to be alone than fight. She wasn’t into kink anyway. She wanted her own life.

Bowie groaned, the pain from that night still fresh and raw.

He should have followed them both, but he hadn’t. He’d roared and screamed and then spent an entire summer in a bottle until the pride’s dominant male had run him off.

He’d gone north, found a life, found wealth and pleasure and control. Even a kind of happiness.

The thought dulled the anger, put out the fire of fury like water on a candle. They’d been kids and scared, and he’d been sure that he could fix everything he didn’t understand with a paddle and a pair of cuffs. He’d been just as stupid as they had. Maybe more.

He wasn’t going to be stupid this time, though. He was going to get his beta and then, once he’d torn up that sweet little ass, they were going to see Emma. She could take off her clothes for other folks as much as she wanted, but she belonged with them.

He knew it, nose to tail.

After all, wolves weren’t the only beasts that mated for life.

He stretched, pleased with the little sleeper cabin. He’d been able to spread out and groom himself once he’d locked the door. You could never do that on a plane. His paws deserved special attention. He lapped at his claws, carefully groomed his whiskers. Soon they would bring him warm milk and he’d have to be human then and wear a robe.

For now, though, he could let his tail go wherever it wanted.

He let his mind wander, let his imagination remember the information he’d seen on the internet. Channing, lean and blond and lovely, bound in leather, bare ass crisscrossed with evidence of blows. He’d had to fight a fit of anger and hurt the first time he’d seen it. That was supposed to be his job, after all, beating that ass rosy.

Then Bowie had decided he was grateful. Now he could find Channing and show the man what a really good beating felt like.

His cock filled and he groaned, his toes curling at the thought. Yes. His body shivered, his tail disappeared and he let his human form come. That was so much better when he was having daydreams like this one.

Bowie would hear Channing yowl for him, would have that tiny, tight little hole. He’d make Channing beg for it, though, first, beg to be taken. He’d remind the man how damn wrong he’d been to leave, make him crazy with need, maybe bind that fine cock and plug that tight, tight ass.

His cock ached and he wrapped his hand around it, moaning as he imagined Emma’s hand touching him.

It had been so long. Oh he had plenty of subs who would do whatever he asked, but that was training—something he got paid for. He missed having lovers.

Having his mates.

Emma’s scent… By the stars, he longed for that. She had this spicy, deep, yet utterly feminine smell that made him hard as a rock. Her nipples were sensitive too. He’d made her come once, manipulating those sweet, pink buds alone.

Then there was Channing. That skin was such a pale gold, so wonderfully pliant. Long, perfectly sized prick, lips meant for cock sucking, and an ass… He growled. That ass made him want to write odes, and he was way more an action man than a word slinger.

He stroked himself, base to tip, tugging his cock. His belly tightened, his balls aching a little in the best way. His heartbeat sounded loud in his ears.

He could see them, kneeling before him, kissing over the tip of his cock. They would be so beautiful—Emma’s mouth candy pink, Channing’s a deeper red. They would turn to him, licking and sucking between kisses.

Teeth gritted, he jacked faster, working himself hard. He needed to come, needed to release the pressure deep in his belly. Bowie grunted, imagining fucking Channing while his boy licked Emma, tongue pushing deep into her cunt.

He’d be able to see Emma’s green eyes. Watch her come.

He wanted to watch her face when she came, feel the way Channing’s ass clamped down on him when he came. Fuck, that was good. Damn. His fingers brushed over the tip of his cock, rubbing the slit, working it.

That tiny electric shock was what he needed to send him over the edge. Bowie growled, his cock jerking as he came, his lovers’ names on his lips.

When the fantasy disappeared, he was left with memories, an address and a flyer.

Suddenly Bowie wished he’d taken a quick commuter flight. He needed to see Channing as soon as possible. Thank God for the knock on the sleeper-cabin door. Time for breakfast.

Soon he’d figure this shit out. Soon he’d have his mates in one room and he would remind them who the fucking dominant male was, damn it.

He couldn’t wait.

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CZECH ME OUT by BA Tortuga

DESIGNATED BOTTOMS 

With Stories by Katey Hawthorne, Kiernan Kelly, Sean Michael, Julia Talbot, BA Tortuga, KC Wells and Shannon West

Some men are bottoms by birth, others by choice. Whatever the reason, a designated bottom is someone who’s happy to surrender, to submit, or just catch instead of pitch!

In Czech Me Out, by BA Tortuga, Korde discovers what it’s like to fall for someone when food truck owner Josh takes on the cowboy virgin.

Katey Hawthorne’s gamer grad student Paul doesn’t date. He keeps things strictly physical. So why is Sammy so important to him in The Mistell?

Kitty shifter and stripper Aleks doesn’t mix business with pleasure, but he thinks Rafe might just be the master for him in Julia Talbot’s Faster Bobcat.

Sean Michael’s Peter isn’t sure about the club his friend takes him to, especially when Doms start hitting on him. Experienced Dom Rupert is happy to help, explaining about that Little Square of Cloth.

In Sgt. Hardass, by Shannon West, recent ex-Army man Jake meets up with a man he has history with, and Chad isn’t sure he can explain himself and defuse Jake’s anger.

In the Prince of Paupers by Kiernan Kelly, Prince Liam and longtime friend Deacon have to go back to Deacon’s Appalachian home, much to the prince’s dismay.

And in Switching It Up by KC Wells, Jay knows he looks like a twink, but only hunky Dean understands that looks can be seriously deceptive.

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CZECH ME OUT: An Austin Story by BA Tortuga

Cowboy Korde has come to Austin to visit his sister, and to find some work during a tough patch in his life. He has no idea what to do with himself, though, and his sister needs him to amuse himself and stay out of her hair.

When food truck owner Josh meets Korde, he knows just what the hot cowboy needs. Korde is willing, if completely overwhelmed by what Josh makes him feel. Can Josh convince Korde they have the perfect recipe for love.

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Story also appears in Designated Bottoms Anthology.

Excerpt from CZECH ME OUT by BA Tortuga

“So, you’re not from around here, I can tell.”

“No, sir. I’ve been working ranches down south. My sister says y’all had some tile work I could do here, so I came up.”

“Yeah? You do tile work?” The guy lit up like Christmas. “That’s serendipitous.”

“I do. Have for a while. You want to see some pictures?” Oh, man. Job. Score.

“If you have them, yeah. I have a whole front room to do.”

“Sure I do. On my phone.” He took a bite of the kolache, and the flavor hit him as he reached for his phone. Oh, God. He could eat twenty-eight of those. In a row. Duck was now on his list of yummy shit, just like this man was on his list of hotties.

The corner of Josh’s lips quirked up. “Good?”

“Mrhm.” That was a yes.

“You’ll have to try the cherry cheese one for dessert. Or pecan if you hate cream cheese.”

“Pecan...”

“You got it. Hang tight. I’ll get dessert, and we’ll talk tile.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked down the potatoes, crunching happily. The man could cook, no doubt about it. This was all kinds of stuff you’d see on the Food Network, but with a down-home touch. Fried stuff.

He pulled up the photos from the Drus job and the McBride job. They showed him off but good. When he handed over his phone, Josh peered at the pics. “Nice. Looks great. Do you do free estimates?”

“I do. You have an idea what you’re into?”

“Yeah. You mean what I want, right?” When he nodded, Josh grinned. “For a minute I thought we’d stopped talking business.”

Korde’s cheeks heated, and he ducked his head. God, what the hell to say to that? Well, he could say a lot of things, but what if Josh tried to kick his ass? Then he’d lose this job, for sure.

“I want basic ceramic. Something we can get at Home Depot.”

“Sure. I’ve done all sorts -- you want a design? White?”

“Maybe something simple.” A shout had Josh peering at the truck. “Be right back.”

“‘kay.” He texted Karee, letting her know he might have found another project. Every little bit helped.

“Sorry. Just a tiny fire.” Josh grinned hugely and dug into one of the dessert kolaches.

“Fire?” Oh, man. “Everything okay?”

“Yep. She got a little happy with the grease, but didn’t burn anything important.”

“Dude. That’s a little space to have a fire.” He couldn’t imagine. Of course, his idea of cooking was to make cereal.

“Happens all the time. I’m lucky if I have my eyebrows.” Josh waggled said eyebrows behind his heavy glasses. “Can you come by tomorrow? We’re closed on Sundays, so I can give you whatever time you need.”

“Sure. Sure, I got no plans.”

“Cool. Got your phone? I’ll give you my number.”

He handed it back over, and Josh put in a contact. He smiled when he read it back. Josh Kolache Guy.

“Just holler when you’re ready for me, and I’ll be right over.”

“Cool. I’ll text you tomorrow.” Josh gave him a friendly grin. “Thanks, man.”

“I’ll be waiting. Hey, what do I owe you for the pecan deals?”

“On the house.” Josh clapped him on the shoulder on the way by, hand hot as fire even through his shirt. “See you tomorrow.”

“You know it.” He would totally do the work, enjoy the view too, all the way.

“Enjoy.” Josh left him, and the man had a cowboy ass in those tight jeans. Nothing hipster there.

Korde watched, the whole way, laser focused. Yeah. He’d be seeing that ass again tomorrow.

He couldn’t wait.

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HOPING FOR A GOOD BREAK by BA Tortuga

HOPING FOR A GOOD BREAK by BA Tortuga

Alan and Colby have had an on-again, off-again love affair thanks to the rodeo. Alan hasn’t been able to give it up. When a dear friend of both men has a bad break, literally, during a freak accident, the whole situation makes Alan rethink being on the road, and away from his lover Colby.

Story also appears in the RODE HARD ANTHOLOGY.

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~Excerpt~

"What do you mean broke?" The urge to pull the phone away from his ear and stare at it was strong. Huge, because Colby couldn't stare at Little Mike in person. "Like Shiloh Walker cracked that vertebra last year?"

"Like he cain't breathe on his own no more, Colb. Like he ain't never gonna be whole." Little Mike sounded lower than a worm. "Alan's been wantin' to come on home to you, so I told him to load up all the horses and head out. He had a two hour drive to fetch them back 'fore he could get started."

Jesus. The words hit him, each one a blow to the chest. "What do you need, Mikey? You know I'll help any way I can."

"There's no help now. He's got pneumonia. He can't breathe on his own and he's done give up. You know James -- he don't want to live like this."

"I know. I-- Christ, I'm sorry, Mikey. You let me know what you need with the stuff." He meant bills or funeral arrangements or anything. Mike knew that, too. He'd come to the service, but if Mike needed him before that...

"You got it. Tell Alan to give Elvis some oats for me."

"I will." He went ahead and hung up, knowing Mike didn't need his worry or sorrow. The man had enough of his own. James was the best of all of them, and this broken neck and severed spinal cord was no way for a cowboy to go.

He tried to call Alan again and got nothing. Someone let his minutes run out again, he'd bet. Damn it, where was the damned fool? Even with going back for the horses, Alan should have been here by now. He hoped Alan knew he was still welcome, even though Colby had gotten tired of being second to the rodeo, had maybe had a little snit and not answered the phone for a bit.

This was still Alan's home, right?

God, he hoped so. Hell, he didn't know anything right now, his head reeling from what Mike had told him. He gritted his teeth. He'd need to get some stalls ready for the horses.

He assumed there were three horses coming -- Little Mike's Elvis, Alan's Joanie, and whatever little mare James had been able to afford. Alan pulled a three horse trailer and no one had called for money to rent a bigger one. Hell, Alan's truck didn't have a gooseneck hitch anyway...

Colby pushed his phone into his pocket and headed down to the barn. He'd need to feed and water, check shoes and hooves, and make sure they all got a vet check-up this week.

Dust started billowing near the gate, the big metal thing sliding open. Huge black Ford shining. Alan.

Relief made Colby's knees weak for a moment. He grabbed the top rail of the corral fence, just standing there, watching Alan drive back into his life.

Those blue-sky eyes stared at him, the shock of blond hair sticking out from under the cap and scarred jaw familiar as breathing. When Alan pulled into the turnaround next to the barn and killed the engine, Colby walked over to the driver's side door, needing to see Alan up close. To touch.

"Tell me it's cool to come home, man. I cain't drive no more, and I need you like breathing."

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WOLF RUN by BA Tortuga

WOLF RUN by B.A. Tortuga

Mick is a lone wolf in all ways. He’s left his pack, he’s left his homelands and he’s on the road, footloose and fancy free.

Well, at least until he wanders up to a fence and finds a little wolf running his ass off behind it. Mick stops to let the pup out and is stunned to hear the young wolf, Scotty, tell him “no”.

Scotty's mate and best friend, Danny, asked Scotty to stay behind the fence, so he will be safe while Danny fights to support them both. All this leaves Mick’s fur standing on end.

Maybe, Mick doesn’t need one mate to bring him home. Maybe, he needs two.

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Excerpt:

He dropped his wolf form as soon as he was out of sight, his body lengthening into a biped. “Dude, why are you in a cage?”

The pup yelped and scrambled back, leaping onto the porch.

“Hey, I’m not here to hurt you. I can open the gate.”

The pup looked at him then boom, a lovely lean man stood there, shaggy blond hair curling around his face. “H-hey.”

“Hi. Would you like to run? I can get you out.” God, the kid was adorable and plenty old enough to play.

“Oh. Oh, no. Daniel would be so mad at me for getting out again.” Eyes the color of brandy caught the sun. “Daniel says I’ll get hurt, lost.”

“Does Daniel mistreat you?” Because Mick could beat someone down just for fun.

“Daniel? My Daniel?” The pup’s laugh was happy, joyous, the look on his face fond and warm. “Oh, no. Daniel loves me. He works for both of us. He brings me half his food every day. He’s a good mate. We… The Alpha said ‘too many males’, and we… Daniel pays for this home, he brushes me, he works all day every day.”

“Do you work?” Mick tilted his head, waiting, nodding in sympathy. Damn, it was hard for bachelor males to manage when thrust out on their own, especially ones who needed an alpha as much as this one did. It seemed like the kid barely held it together, at least on two legs. Sweet baby.

“I paint. I paint pictures, and I wash Daniel’s uniforms. I… I get… He follows rules better than me, and he can stop a shift, if he needs to. He can even work during the moon.”

Mick smiled, liking this kid a lot. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Scott. Scott Miller. What’s yours?”

Scott. It worked.

“I’m Mick Eagleheart. I like your belly. I kinda want to lick it.”

“Oh.” Scott jerked, and his cock started to fill, curving up toward the flat belly. “Oh, my.”

“Mmm. That’s nice, too.” Mick’s cock was happy to wave hello, as well, standing hard and proud.

“I probably should go inside.” That sweet nose was working hard, smelling him.

He caught the scent of Scott’s need, too. “I won’t bother you if you don’t want me to. I promise. I just hate to see you caged.”

“I want… I want you to come inside, but… I should ask Daniel.” Scott moved down the stairs, heading toward him.

“You should, huh?” When Scott got close, Mick saw the shadows under the man’s ribs. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh-huh. All the time. He brings me the biggest half of his hamburger and almost all the fries, every day.”

Mick raised a brow. “You eat one meal a day?” That would never do. Never.

“Every night. He brings me food every night.” Scott was close enough to touch now.

Mick reached out, gently, slowly, not wanting to startle the pup. Pure electricity shot up his arm, and Scott’s eyes flew open wide, a happy bark sounding.

“Do you want to hunt with me? I promise to bring you back.”

“Will I get in trouble?” Scott nodded, eagerly, the motion at odds with his worried words.

“No, I swear.” The high mountain desert teemed with birds, rabbits and chipmunks. It would take twenty minutes to get something yummy.

“Okay. Okay, yes, but please, don’t let me get lost. He gets so worried.”

“I have an amazing sense of direction.” And he could tell Scott really cared for this Daniel. Mick would never want to come between mates.

“Cool.” Scott climbed over the fence and into Mick’s arms.

“Hello, there.” What a pretty puppy this one was. So starved for a strong hand. Daniel must be another pup, not a big male. He leaned in and sniffed, the hint of another sweet beta like perfume.

Lovely. He’d have to check in with Daniel, as well. Later. Impulsively, he hugged Scott tight. “Let’s run.”

It took seconds before the pup was fuzzy beside him, excited and happy. Perfect. Mick barked, his wolf coming easily, and he led the way off into coyote country. Scott ran beside him, vocal and chatty, telling him about everything wonderful in the world. Mick liked it, the little noises. Oh, it would make it harder to find prey, but that was all right. How often did you get to experience that type of pure, unadulterated joy?

This kid was too cooped up, and Mick would bet the absent Daniel was, too. So many wolves forgot how to live close to nature.

Scott bounded up to him, licked his muzzle then bounced away. They would have to play, he could tell. He raced to Scott, nipping that fine tail. Scott spun, sand flying everywhere, and the pup barked furiously.

Letting his tongue loll, Mick backed off, tail up, head down.

Scott stopped, stared then plopped his front end down, bowing back. Good boy. Such good instincts.

Mick chuffed softly, praising, admiring, and that tail wagged so hard the pup nearly fell over. Sweet baby boy. A rabbit darted by, and they were off.

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TERMS OF RELEASE by BA Tortuga

THE TERMS OF RELEASE by BA Tortuga

They say a man can always come home. So after doing hard time, Sage Redding heads to his family’s northeast Texas ranch to help his ailing daddy with the cutting horses. 

Adam (Win) Winchester is a county deputy and the cousin of one of the men killed in the incident that sent Sage to prison for almost a decade. While Win's uncles, Jim and Teddy, are determined to make Sage and the entire Redding family pay for their loss, Win just figures Sage has paid his dues and maybe needs a friend. Maybe he needs more than a friend. In fact, Win’s counting on it.

No one’s denying Sage is an ex-con who went to prison for manslaughter. Regardless of the love he has for his father, he’s returned knowing things will likely go badly for him. Maybe a man can always come home, but he may not be able to stay.

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Chapter One

“SON, I need to talk to you.”

Sage sighed but kept it soft enough that no one could possibly hear. Momma didn’t call often—once a week—and she talked to him for exactly fifteen minutes. Hell, he wasn’t sure if the calls were habit for him or for her, but it was what it was, and it kept the costs on his pay-as-you-go phone low. If she called on a Saturday morning, when she knew he’d been working on the docks all night, it had to be important.

“Sure, Momma. What you need?”

He leaned back on his bed, looking out the little window. His eyes followed the hairline crack that climbed through the glass. Some days he thought maybe that weird, crookedy little line wanted to be a word or something. A picture. Not today. Today it was only a place for a tiny spider to climb. God, he was tired. The trucks had been filled with hundreds of small heavy boxes, and his muscles were screaming for rest. Not sleep, not yet. That wouldn’t come ’til eleven or so. It wasn’t like he came home and crashed once his feet found their way back through the mess in the streets and the little pockets of nighttime assholes on the corners, waiting for the bolder daytime assholes to spell them. This was his primetime, after all. He had a cup of coffee and a Louis L’Amour book he hadn’t read, which he’d found in a dumpster on his way to work a couple of days ago. It was all good.

“Are you listening to me, Sage Marlowe Redding?”

“What? Sorry, Momma. I must’ve dozed some. Long night. Say again?”

“I need you to come home.”

He sat up and frowned, his heart doing that sickening little hiccup and roll that meant something shitty was going down. “What happened?”

“Well, nothing that you’d think was an emergency, really. Your daddy, though, his hands…. He can’t work the horses as much.”

Sage closed his eyes. Fucking Parkinson’s. Daddy’d been fighting it for damn near eight years, but it was a losing battle. “Momma, I….”

“Son, that Teddy Dale, he’s going to take the land. You know he will. He’s waiting. I need you to cowboy up and come on. Now.”

“Teddy Dale’s the reason I ain’t come home, Momma. That man hates the sound of my name.” Not that Sage blamed the crusty old bastard. Angelo, the man’s only son and the apple of his momma’s eye, had died in Sage’s company ten years ago. Leastways that was the story and what was taken as God’s honest truth.

Ten years, ten months, fifteen days and… fourteen and a half hours ago.

“Well, we need to be able to train these horses. Your daddy has a contract. If he can fill it on time, we can pay for six months of bills. Sister’s took pregnant on me, Son. Her and that ass hat she’s married to caught like a pair of hounds.”

“I don’t even have a car, Momma, and I sure don’t have the cash to bus it right now. I get paid in two weeks.” A baby? Rosie? Christ, when had he gotten old? He looked at the calendar. “I can get on a Greyhound then, if I clear it with my parole officer.”

They had rules for men like him, and he followed them because he wasn’t going back in.

He couldn’t.

“I can wire you the money.” She sighed, lowering her voice. “It would kill your daddy to lose this place.”

“I know. I’ll come. I have to make arrangements, Momma. You know that.”

“I know that you paid your debt to society already, baby, for something that shouldn’t have all been on your shoulders.”

“I paid my stupid tax, for sure.” He smiled a little. “Let me see what my parole officer says, and I’ll call.”

“Okay. They… they’ll let you come home, right?”

“I’ll have to go in front of a judge. You know that.” It sucked, but it was what it was.

“I know, Son. Maybe you’ll get Judge Shannon. He’s not in anyone’s pocket, leastways in my memory.”

“Maybe. You’ll need to send me doctor’s information so I can start everything.”

“I can send it overnight unless you have one of those Kinko’s places. I can fax there.”

“I’ll have to call you, Momma. I don’t know. There should be a phone book down in the management office.”

“Okay. I-I’m sorry, Son.” He could hear the tears, right there in her throat. He hated for his momma to cry.

“Shit, what for? You didn’t make me a fuck-up, you didn’t make Daddy sick, and you didn’t make Rosemary decide to have children that her crazy fuck of a husband can’t feed. Seems to me like we should be apologizing to you.”

She sniffled, but the chuckle was just as strong now.

“I’ll call you with the Kinko’s number. Later. I got to work all weekend, but I’ll get in to see Jack on Monday.” If he could.

“Thanks, baby. I’m sorry. I know it’s borrowing more trouble for you, but I need your help.”

“I got your back, Momma. I won’t let you down.” The again was there, unsaid and implied.

“I love you, Son.”

“I love you, Momma. Talk to you later on.” He hung up and sat there, his head pounding, feeling swole as a rotting melon. Much as he hated California, he hated the thought of begging some Texas judge to let him come home even more.

God, what a mess.

“Damn you, Angel. You and me, we fucked everything up, and you had to up and die and get out of everything.”

Angel never answered back, which was good, since the man was dead. Would make it awkward if he hung around.

Sage chuckled, rubbed his forehead, and set his alarm. He’d get a couple of hours of sleep, then get to work.

He had a feeling he was fixin’ to have a lot to do.

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MATING CALL by BA Tortuga

MATING CALL by BA Tortuga

Stephanie has three rules when it comes to her relationship with werewolves Shaw and Jordan—keep their lusty encounters casual, never invade each other’s space and no biting. The boys have always seemed perfectly fine with all that, leaving her plenty of time to do her magick and keep her shop going.

Her rules come back to haunt her when the local pack leader gives Jordan and Shaw an ultimatum—find a mate or find another city to live in. Jordan and Shaw hate having to ask Stephanie to help them find a mate. She’s not just their best friend, she’s the hottest lover they’ve ever had. The boys will have their hands full convincing Steph that rules are made to be broken, before it is too late.
 

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An Excerpt From: MATING CALL

Copyright © BA TORTUGA, 2012

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One

The smell of burned sage never got out of robes.

 

Never.

 

Stephanie shook the heavy ceremonial robe, the fabric soft in her hands, and sighed. Maybe it was time to take it to the dry cleaners. Obviously Woolite wasn’t doing it. She hung it over the back of her grandmother’s rocking chair. Tomorrow she would worry about the robe. Tonight the boys were coming over.

 

Tonight she’d be coming, over and over, if she was lucky.

 

Jordan and Shaw were worth shaving her legs for. They were worth all the fancy lotion she smeared on her body. They were…well, they were a force of nature.

 

She grabbed her broom and swept the floor, picking up the little bits of herbs and candle wax and fur. Pyewacket was already in her spot atop the big wardrobe in the dining room that held Steph’s supplies, black tail hanging down.

 

A soft yowl sounded as she came close and she reached up, tweaked Wacky’s tail. “I know, sweet lady, but it’s almost the full moon, and Goddess knows I’m not getting any hot, hunky loving outside of the two of them.”

 

Wacky’s yellow eyes glowed in the dim light, seeming to tell her what an idiot she was. That cat was expressive, almost magically so.

 

“Two years and I get about four orgasms per full moon. That’s not bad for one night a month.” It was close to perfect, really. She got her freedom to work, update the website, create her spell kits and ship them out. The day before the full moon she saved for her best boys.

 

They were horny then, and they put aside their worries about the pack to come to her. They worried about their pack a lot, apparently. She was like their mother confessor a little.

 

Which, okay, whoa. Not sexy, with the holster hips and the penguin-outfit thing.

 

No, today was tight jeans and a tank top, a see-through shimmery top in the same color as her eyes, deep and dark. Hrm…but they loved her in green, though she teased them about dogs being color blind. Oh, the green sundress. She loved that and it was easy access.

 

Wacky yowled again and she chuckled, stroking the puffy tail on her way by. “I’m making them steaks, of course. They’re bringing dessert. You, lady, are getting tuna so you can hide in the library.”

Tuna for her cat, a nice long shower for her then sizzle the steaks on either side for her boys.

 

It was a good plan.

 

* * * * *

 

“Do you think she’ll help?”

 

Jordan stared at the dessert case, trying to decide between spice cake and those éclair thingies. He ignored Shaw’s question as best he could, not wanting to think about what they were about to ask Steph to do.

 

“Are you listening to me? Do you think she’ll do it?” Shaw was one hell of a puppy some days, bouncing and moving constantly. Jordan wanted to snap at Shaw’s ear.

 

“I don’t know. Éclairs?” They were going to ask their lover to find them a mate who wasn’t her. Why would she help?

 

“I like éclairs. She likes the ones with chocolate.” Shaw looked closer. “Can I have pecan pies?”

“Only if you don’t pass out after we all fuck and leave me to talk to her alone.” Such. A. Pup.

 

“I won’t!”

 

The girl behind the counter gasped, turned bright red, and Shaw’s head ducked.

 

“Sorry, honey.” Jordan smiled a little, not wanting to bare his teeth “We need two éclairs, a spice cake and two of the pecan pies.”

 

“Sure. Do you want any cookies? We have snickerdoodles.”

 

Snickerdoodles. Wow.

 

“No. No more sugar for this one.” He jerked his thumb at Shaw.

 

“Hey!” Bright-green eyes flashed up at him from under the unruly shock of big red hair.

 

“I’m getting you pies.” He popped Shaw’s ass, loving that squeak.

 

They got another wide-eyed look from the girl behind the counter. Wow. Wow. He had to watch his damn mouth. He was just so fucking horny this time of the month. He could just toss Shaw down and fuck him raw. Thing was, that wouldn’t sate him. He needed Steph too.

 

There was something about the pair of them—her sweet body wrapped around his cock while Shaw took her mouth. Or Shaw’s ass working him while he watched his lover lick Steph’s creamy…

 

He groaned, and Shaw stared at him, sporting an amazing hard-on and a look of pure lust. Damn it.

 

They were never going to manage to just talk to her. Never. They needed her help, though.

 

“We need to go.” Shaw’s voice was pure rumble, very little human.

 

“Get it together, baby.” It was just stress. The moon coming. That shit.

 

“Here you go.” The girl handed over the bag with the pastries, pulling her hand back as though they might bite her. He didn’t even bother handing her the cash, leaving it on the counter to give the poor girl space. “Keep the change, honey.”

 

“Thanks.” Jordan grabbed Shaw and dragged him out.

 

“Teasing asshole. Fuck, I smell you.”

 

“Hush.” They needed to stop revving up, at least until they got in the truck. They were going to embarrass themselves.

 

“Uh-huh.” Shaw bounced a little bit, the shithead. Jordan had to wonder whether Nyla had given him espresso this morning.

 

“I mean it, Shaw. I’ll tie you up when we get to Steph’s.” That made his pup crazy, being forced to be still.

 

“You won’t.” Shaw groaned, almost rubbed against him.

 

“I will, baby. I’ll make you scream.”

 

As crazy making as Shaw was, his sweet mate could make his mouth dry, make him ache for it. He loved that boy to distraction. He reached over and touched Shaw’s thigh.

 

The lean muscles jerked and jumped, shifted under his fingers, even the cloth of Shaw’s jeans not hiding the movement. Shaw’s cock pressed hard against the zipper, and Jordan had to fight the urge to open those jeans and take that hardness into his hand.

 

“I hope she’s ready for us.” Shaw panted, licked his lips. “I want you.”

 

“I want you, baby. I want both of you. I can’t wait to strip you down and do you while you lick her.”

He wanted to just grab Shaw by the hair and fuck that pretty mouth. Christ, his hands were shaking.

 

“I could suck you, now, before we get there. I so could.”

 

“No.” No, they had to wait. It was important to not dilute the sex magick. Steph had taught them that. They would need every drop, so to speak.

 

“Asshole.” Shaw gave him a low, pouty growl.

 

“You want this to work, baby?” He finally handed the bag of pastries to Shaw and got the truck going.

 

“I don’t know…” Shaw sighed, fastened his seat belt, eyes facing out the window, watching the Rockies. “I don’t want to lose her. I like Steph.”

 

“I know, baby.” He didn’t want to end their friendship with Steph, either, but the pack was breathing down their necks. They were supposed to be good little wolves and settle down.

 

“If we find her, our mate I mean, it’ll be good, right? We won’t care that we’re losing Steph?”

 

Well, Steph had always made it clear that this was just fun and games, hadn’t she? Three buds hanging out, drinking beer, sharing orgasms? They even watched football together. Besides, she knew what they were, knew they couldn’t mate with someone for life who wasn’t one of them.

 

He smacked Shaw’s shoulder, just a little too hard. “It’ll be cool. We’ll be stupid in love and wanting to make puppies.”

 

Right?

 

Right.

 

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OPENING THE CAGE by BA Tortuga

OPENING THE CAGE by BA Tortuga

Shifting Streams Series, Book Two

There’s something on the air. Something wild and dark and dangerous and it's coming for the Aspen Brook Clan.

Canyon's job is to protect the Clan, to help his twin brother, Mesa, keep their little family safe, secure, no matter what monsters are lurking in the Montana Mountains.

But there are whispers of a prophesied pair of wolves that have been found, a duo of white wolves that hold more power between them than anyone can guess.

When Granite, the guardian of the distant pack, comes to them, torn and bleeding, bringing the rest of the North Peak's destroyed clan with him, Canyon knows he has to go.

The pair he finds will change his life and the future of his entire clan.

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~Excerpt~

“Riana? Riana, honey? I…You need to wake up.”

Riana started awake from her nest on the bed, blinking at her dark-eyed sister. She wondered what had April so scared, so worried, when she’d been so happy earlier, dressing for her date, messing with her hair, putting on her lipstick.

Riana barked, tail thumping in welcome, even though she wasn't sure what was going on.

“I think I messed up, sister. I’m afraid messed up so bad.” Her sister sat on the bed, fingers twisted together. “You know that Russet asked me to marry him, right?”

Riana wagged. Yes. April was stupid for Russet, silly for the big male. Riana had peeked at him a few times, when he was there, visiting April. She supposed he was pretty enough. He looked at her sister like she was the sun. Riana liked that a lot.

“Well, if we get married, he’ll find out about you, you know? And no one here knows, so I told him.”

She tilted her head. Told someone about her? No one knew her. She’d stayed here, just as her mother had asked, her entire life. Mother said it wasn’t safe for white wolves in the Pack. The other wolves would hurt her; the other predators would hunt her.

Mother had said her sister would protect her.

“He’ll be my mate one day, Riana. At least I hope he will. We haven’t formed the bond yet, but this should help, huh? Me being honest about you…”

Riana rubbed her muzzle against April’s wrist. April was the oldest sister. April was her protector. April wouldn’t hurt her.

April would never hurt her.

A knock came to the door, past her room, in the main house, and April jumped, then frowned. “Stay here, honey, okay? Quiet as a mouse.”

She panted, wagged. Quiet as a mouse.

Riana curled around the threadbare stuffed bunny that she’d had since the beginning of time, since before she’d lost her milk teeth.

“Russet? Did you forget something?”

Riana could smell April’s worry.

“Honey, you have to know that I didn’t mean to…”

“Where is she?” That was a voice she didn’t know, low and furious. “Where have you been hiding her?”

“Hiding who? Russet? What are you doing?”

Riana frowned, that was fury, not fear, in her sister’s voice.

“This isn’t about you, honey. This is about Pack. He’s my Alpha. I had to tell him that you had the other one of the Pair. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Russet…” April’s voice was full of tears.

“I know. Where is she?”

“Running. I sent her away.”

Riana’s head went up. Away? April was going to send her away? Where? This was her room, her place, her home. Where would she go?

She stood, shivering, ears laid back.

“Bullshit. Tell me, girl. Now!”

“Markus, easy. April, no one wants to hurt her. He just wants to meet her. Ilia’s son is like her—white and wolfen. They could be mates.” Russet was crooning, obviously trying to make April listen to him and not be mad at him. She’d heard men talk like that on soap operas.

“She’s gone. I sent her away. I don’t have room for her now.” Now that was a lie. April was telling her something.

Riana went to the window, nosed it, trying to get outside, trying to understand the warning that April was giving her. The lock wasn’t latched, and she pawed it open.

“Do it this way,” April had said. “If there’s a fire, you open it and you run fast.”

She slipped out, yelping in pure surprise as strong arms caught her, wrapped around her and held fast. Riana struggled, yelping in pure fury. No! No! April!

“I have her, Markus.”

No! April! She growled and bit, fighting to get free. Help me!

The arms tightened around her and the low growl frightened her. “She’s freaking out, man! Where’s the sedative?”

“You assholes! Leave her alone! Riana!” April’s scream rang out, muffled by low words, rumbles. “Russet, —you—No! Riana!”

It was April’s fear that gave her strength, and Riana tensed, head twisting, and bit hard. The arms dropped her and she zoomed toward April, toward safety and love and home.

“No, Riana, run!”

The prick of something sharp hit her flank, the sting startling her, and she almost immediately began to slow, her legs so heavy.

She saw April tear away from Russet, come to her, “Oh, Ri. Oh, goddess. What have I done?”

April. April, please…

A face appeared over April’s shoulder, a woman with eyes like flame. “Finally. I knew she was here. I knew the moon did not lie! The pair will be ours, Alpha!”

April.

Tears fell on her face. “Ri. I love you. I’m so sorry.”

It was the last thing she heard for a long time.

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