DESERT OF THE DAMNED by Kathy Kulig

DESERT OF THE DAMNED by Kathy Kulig 

Demons in Exile Book One

A #1 AMAZON BESTSELLER Erotic free list!

One woman caught in a war between worlds and torn between the love of two men-immortal demon and mortal shapeshifter.

Dante Akanto lures research scientist Amy Weston into the desert to explore the dark side of her passions, pleasuring her in erotic ways she never thought possible with his bizarre sex games. And park ranger Jake Montag has a compelling mysticism and powerful sensuality that's HOT and impossible to resist. But the two men, demon and shapeshifter, are engaged in a supernatural fight between worlds. Amy and her high level of life force energy is the key. Dante's world and his immortality depend on claiming her as his own. The choice Amy makes between the two men will affect both her world and her future.

Demons in Exile Series:
Desert of the Damned, Book 1
Damned and Desired, Book 2
Damned and Defiant, Book 3
All for only 99 cents each!

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Excerpt:

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

An Excerpt From: DESERT OF THE DAMNED

Copyright © KATHY KULIG, 2008

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

The smell of smoke drew Amy Weston out of a deep sleep. As her mind fought through her grogginess, she stared at the orange shadows flickering across her stucco walls. The waving colors nearly hypnotized her back to sleep then logic shook her fully awake.

Fire.

She bolted upright in bed.

From the window on the opposite wall she could see that the fire was outside. A chorus of toads and crickets sang their night song as the desert breeze stirred her sheer curtains. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and inhaled deeply.

Not dreaming.

Hopping out of bed, she rushed to the window and peered out. The glow of a campfire shone behind the saguaro cactus and the mesquite bushes about fifty yards from her house.

The silhouette of a man stood beside the fire. Dante Akando was summoning her.

The digital clock read twelve a.m. The hour. She groaned as if complaining but between her legs the throb of her pussy gave away her desire. Thanks to all the subtle teasing at work and impromptu meetings in Dante´s office, where he´d described raw details of his sex games, her body hummed in anticipation.

He was good-very good-impossible to resist. And he was just what she needed right now-a man who had a taste for adventurous sex and was eager to explore the dark side of her passions. Like her, Dante didn´t want any emotional ties. She had been intrigued by his looks the day she was forced to transfer to the new division of Drake Diagnostic Labs and, since she didn´t plan to stay long, having a brief affair with her boss didn´t seem like a problem. The sexual chemistry had been immediate and bone deep. How could she say no? Someday she would find someone special and consider a more permanent arrangement but for the moment, she didn´t need the hassles.

As much as her body ached for Dante, she should resist him. She had to get up for work early and she was exhausted. Did she dare ignore his campfire call and curl back in her comfortable bed? Her hand reached beneath her silk chemise and slid over her breasts. Her nipples were raw and erect, sensitive to the touch. She squeezed them and imagined Dante´s hands on her then glided her hand down her flat belly, over the curly hair and patted her bud. In moments it was swollen and throbbing, aching for more. Oh, she wanted him all right. Damn him. I´ll never get back to sleep now.

What was the use? The dancing lights on her bedroom walls grew brighter, signaling his impatience.

Tugging the thin chemise over her head, she tossed it on the floor, then yanked the Indian blanket from her bed. Why did he affect her this way? She walked back to the window but there was no sign of him-only the silhouettes of the saguaro cactus with its outstretched arms. Stepping into moccasins, she grabbed a flashlight, then strode out of her house.

The night air was cool and she pulled the red, black and orange blanket tightly around her. Dante had bought it for her at the flea market, not the trading post, so it probably was a Mexican blanket and not Indian but it was beautiful just the same and a thoughtful gift. Still, it was a puzzling gift considering Dante Akando said he was part Navajo. She would´ve thought he would only buy native crafts. As she followed the path off her property onto open land, the light of her flashlight and the campfire lit her way. The sky was dark, millions of brilliant stars glittered like shards of crystal. Stepping around scrub pines and clumps of prickly pear cactus, she approached a large mesquite bush. On the other side of the spiny tree the campfire blazed.

Another Indian blanket lay beside the fire. Dante was nowhere around. But she knew he had to be close, watching her.

"Dante? I´m here." She pulled her blanket up to her chin. A breeze swirled around her and under, teasing her moist pussy. She felt a growing heat and moisture between her legs. Where was he? Every nerve simmered with anticipation. "Dante, come on. I´m here. We have to work tomorrow. I can´t stay long."

She wasn´t afraid of the desert night. He said the fire would keep her safe from the night creatures. Recalling his game of seduction, she dropped her covering and stretched out naked on the blanket, her body raw, exposed, vulnerable.

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TURKISH DELIGHT by Rosemary Laurey

TURKISH DELIGHT by Rosemary Laurey

Special Investigations Agency

For Special Investigations Agency Operatives Destiny Tremayne, Jenna MacDonald and Nur Aydan, Christmas isn’t all about celebrating.

Nur Aydan, a moroii—a living vampire—accepts a commission in the UK, investigating investment of terrorist funds. The supposedly routine job has Nur involved in a local protest over rights-of-way, rescuing demonstrators from attackers, using her moroii abilities to thwart terrorists…And falling in love.

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~Excerpt~

She'd sworn she'd never do this again. So much for oaths and promises. Not only had she come to meet Paul, but she was seriously considering accepting another assignment. Or was she? Nur Aydan looked down at the narrow street below. A party of tourists, like a pack of sheep, with digital cameras instead of bells around their necks, paused as their guide indicated the building opposite: a former Ottoman merchant's house. The tourists hung on every word of the patter, soaking up a mass of historical inaccuracies about life in the harem, while a few meters overhead, stood a true relic of the past - a moroii- a living vampire, blood-linked to the gypsies who roamed the reaches of the empire in the days of the sultans. A moroii employed, to her mother's constant worry, as an secret agent by The Special Investigations Agency.

Heaven help her! She was thinking like Aunt Zenip, who endlessly lamented lost glories of the Empire and times long gone. Meanwhile...Nur turned back to Paul Morel, seated on the divan in the corner. "I'm not ready for another job, Paul. Give me some time."

"This isn't a real job, Nur. All it will take is a weekend. You'll be back by Monday. It's what out English friends would call a 'doodle'."

"I think you mean a 'doddle'."

"Ah! You agree."

"How can I agree, when I have no idea what you're talking about?"

"How about an all-expenses paid holiday?"

The man was a comedian as well as a spy master. "I've earned it after that last job. How about a week or two in Antakya?"

"A weekend in England."

"At this time of year? Forget it. I'll take Iskenderun if Antakya is all booked up, but..."

"Nur! Will you listen?"

She should have expected that. Walking back to the cheap divan against the wall, she sat down. This place got shabbier each time they met, but neither of them came for the decor. She folded her arms on her chest, leaned back against the pillows, and eyeballed Paul Morel. "I'm listening."

"Brussels got a communique from our Washington Bureau. About investment of suspected terrorist funds." Ha! Paul knew that would get her attention. Nur acknowledged with a nod and he went on. "They want someone to check on things.."

"There's no one in the UK?" There was a catch. She knew it.

"No one with your strength. It's you or a bulldozer."

"You know how to pay compliments! A bulldozer!"

"Nur, I saw you stop a forklift."

A tactical mistake on her part. "Alright, so I can stop moving machinery with my bare hands. What have these terrorists been buying up? Old factories?"

"A prehistoric stone circle."

Damn good thing she was sitting down. Anyone but Paul, she'd have thought was joking, but Paul didn't have a humorous bone in his body. "You can't just buy them! They're historical monuments, national treasures." Would be like buying up the Dolmabaçe Palace or the Topkapi. "Aren't they owned by the government?"

"Most of them."

"But one just happened to be up for sale, and was bought by a suspect group?"

He nodded. "Should I send out for tea?"

"Coffee, Paul and very sweet." She didn't miss the glint of satisfaction in his eyes, as he turned to the telephone. He'd hooked her and they both knew it.

"In the name of the Special Investigations Agency, thank you," Paul said as he put down the phone.

"Just a weekend job, eh? Good! I have a dinner engagement on Monday."

He gave a flicker of a smile. "Hollrigg is a megalithic stone circle on the edge of the North Yorkshire Moors. Until a year ago it belonged to a local family. One of only two privately owned megaliths in the UK. Recently the aging owner-she was well over eighty I believe-put it up for sale, hoping a local preservation group would raise the money. A business consortium bought it, preempting the proposed arrangement, and paying about five times the asking price."

"A lot of money for a bunch of old stones."

"Very old stones."

"So they need a tax write-off. They are amateur archeologists wanting to preserve the site for posterity. They need a novel site for employee training. Doesn't mean they are terrorists."

"The company who bought it, Rudicorp, is based in Yemen, and has definite ties to terrorist funding. They do, admittedly, have some legitimate business operations, and maybe, just maybe they bought it in the interests of preserving western culture," Paul paused, "but unlikely. and in the present climate, we investigate everything."

"What am I supposed to do? Pick up the stones up one by one and check for bombs underneath?"

"If you deem it necessary."

"Very funny, Paul. What am I really supposed to do?"

"Find out what the hell is going on. Lurk around the site, and use your superior hearing and sight to ascertain whatever you can."

"Why me? You've got other agents with special abilities."

"They are all occupied. We've been particularly busy the past year or so."

"So, you're scraping the bottom of the barrel and calling on me."

"Don't talk rot! You're one of our best. I know you need a break after the last job, but this is more investigation than action. You're going to look around, that's all." She bet!

At a knock on the door, Paul crossed the room. The teenager from the cafe downstairs entered, placed two small cups were on the table in front of Nur, and left with a generous tip. Paul handed her a cup. She caught the rich, heady aroma, sniffing appreciatively before tasting. Wonderful! Sweet, hot and thick, she might as well enjoy, she'd not get coffee like this in England.

Paul placed an envelope on the table. "Tickets, driving license, car rental reservation, credit cards, a little traveling money, and the passport you'll use."

He'd been that sure she'd agree, had he? Nur scowled and took another sip before setting her cup down and reaching for the envelope. "Yildiz Geçtan? School teacher? Give me a break, Paul!"

"It's a good cover. People expect teachers to poke around, ask questions and look at everything."

"And why am I wandering around the UK in December when I have a students to teach back here in Turkey?"

"You have a three month sabbatical, to travel in the UK and improve your English." She had to smile at that. Her English was better than Paul's. "You teach at the Dursan Academy in Istanbul. They will back up your story if needed."

How Paul did these things, she didn't want to know. She flicked open the ticket. Okay, teachers went tourist class, but... "Tomorrow morning!"

"An early flight. Stay tonight at the airport Radisson, in your traveling name. Your flight leaves at seven."

"What about minor details, like a tooth brush?"

He nodded towards the end of the divan. "There's a toothbrush in the bag, Nur, and your essentials. You'll have the usual supplies waiting for you at the hotel. If you need anything else, use the credit card in the envelope, and be sure to save all the receipts for accounting."

"I leave in the morning? Drat! I had an appointment for a manicure tomorrow morning."

"Reschedule for when you get back."

Paul really did have no sense of humor.

It started off, like the nice easy break Paul promised: a room service dinner at the Airport Radisson while Nur looked over Paul's notes before burning them in the bathroom wash basin and flushing the ashes. Not that they told her much. Paul seemed to think leaving her to find out for herself was the way to go. Which probably meant there was nothing going on and she was off on a routine mission-not that she'd ever had one of those, and half-doubted she'd recognize one if she tripped over it in broad daylight. But she gave up worrying, enjoyed the grilled shrimp and fish she'd ordered, and indulged her favorite desert: rosewater ice cream. She should go out and hunt, but lacked the energy. Tomorrow she'd find some willing Brit and feast.

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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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NIGHTLORD LOVER by Kathy Kulig

NIGHTLORD LOVER by Kathy Kulig

Warrior vampire Garrick Labar guards the secrets of the Guild. His comrade— vampire and sorcerer Ramon Travere—enforces the uneasy alliance between mortals and immortals. 

When Larissa Devine moves into town, both Garrick and Ramon are mesmerized and enraptured by her. They crave to claim her as their crimson swan and lover. But a new arrival is fair game and if they don’t claim her first, a band of renegades will.

Larissa finds a blistering-hot ménage with her protectors too intoxicating to resist. The immortals can’t deny their sexual attraction for her and sense her blood pulsing hot and furious whenever they are close. Erotic desires thrust her into a world of danger and seduction. 

When the renegade vampires attempt to destroy a hundred years of peace, Larissa is caught in the crossfire. Eternal love and carnal nights can be her future if she survives.

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Excerpt:

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: NIGHTLORD LOVER

Copyright © KATHY KULIG, 2014

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

The silky French lingerie slid over her skin like creamy chocolate sorbet. It was naughty of her but how could she resist? Larissa Devine smoothed her hands over her breasts, waist and hips, feeling turned-on as she admired the new piece from the collection that just arrived from Paris. Even if she had the funds, no way would she ever purchase a three-hundred-dollar nightgown for herself. For such a price, it should hide all her figure flaws—hips a bit too wide and thighs a little too heavy. The markdown she got as owner of the shop still wasn’t tempting enough. The guys she’d dated in the past wouldn’t be caught dead in a lingerie store buying her a gift like this, never mind one so pricy.

Admiring the other items she’d selected from the French designer, she felt that twirl of excitement in her belly. She knew the exquisite collection would tempt wealthier tourists visiting New Hope during the Christmas rush. The bulk of her sales would come from the average person visiting the historic Pennsylvania town. Silk Fantasies also carried lingerie and fragrances for the more budget minded.

One last glance in the full-length mirror, then off with the pricy garment of seduction and back to setting up shop for opening day. Gently, she lifted the gown to her waist and was about to pull it over her head when she heard the bell from the front door.

“I think you should wear that in your shop. Good advertising. Especially the gentlemen customers,” a man’s voice said from the entrance of her store.

Dropping the hem to fall like a chocolate river of silk at her feet, Larissa gasped and spun around, her arms crossed over her breasts. Her shop wasn’t due to open until tomorrow. The blinds in the shop were down. No one should have seen her inside. “We’re not open, sir. How did you get in? The door was locked.” Her face flushed as she stared at the stranger, young and well-dressed. Black pants and a deep-burgundy shirt, perfectly tailored to show off a body that spent hours in the gym lifting weights, heavy ones by the size of him. He didn’t apologize for walking in on her wearing a nightgown but then again, this was a lingerie shop. He was still smiling at her as his gaze raked over every inch, which irritated her. He was probably shopping for his wife or girlfriend. “I’m sorry. I won’t be open to customers until tomorrow at ten. I’m getting everything ready for opening day.” She smiled, hoping she wouldn’t lose a potential customer.

“Do you always try on all the merchandise?” His eyes held a teasing glint.

She stammered for a moment. “No, no, of course not. I was trying on this one for myself. If you like it, I have others in many sizes. I’d be happy to show you tomorrow if you’d like to pick out something for your wife or girlfriend. I’ll have everything on display then.” She tried to emphasize tomorrow . The guy wasn’t getting the hint and her body was heating up from standing in front of him in an outfit that clung to her every curve like liquid silk.

“I don’t have a wife or a girlfriend, Ms. Devine.”

She frowned. Had she told him her name? No, she was sure she hadn’t. Ignoring the ultra-sexy material caressing her body, she straightened and tilted her head at him. “How did you get in? I know I locked that door. And how do you know my name?”

He laughed in a friendly manner. “I’m sorry, Ms. Devine. I’m not a customer, I’m your landlord.”

“Oh. Mr. Labar, I wasn’t expecting you. Nice to meet you.” She walked up and shook his hand then covered her arms over her breasts. She knew her nipples protruded from the sheer fabric.

“My pleasure. Garrick, please. I stopped in to see how you were doing and if you needed anything.” The side of his mouth twitched. At least he was polite enough to keep his gaze above chest level, now, after he already looked his fill.

Heat rushed to her face. When she had heard his voice on the phone, she had no idea he’d be so young or good-looking. He had to be about her age, early thirties with a slight accent she couldn’t place. His long leather coat reached mid-calf. Stylish and casual, expensive and European was her first impression. Maybe he had just gotten out of work. He hadn’t stopped staring at her since she noticed him. Staring wasn’t the word, piercing her soul was more like it. The air in the shop thickened, time ticked slower and her pulse quickened. The temperature was near freezing outside but she wanted to open the door. “I think I have everything I need, thank you. The apartment upstairs is lovely and spacious. I’m almost settled in.”

“I’m surprised you waited to open your store in the middle of the Christmas shopping season.”

Was he worried she wouldn’t make her rent? “I know. I had to help my mother move the rest of her things to Florida. She moved into a retirement home.”

“I see. I hope she’s well.”

“She’s fine.” Larissa hoped he didn’t hear the snippy tone in her voice. Larissa, her mother and her brother didn’t get along very well.

“I have a helper for you,” he said. “I’ll send her by tomorrow. Her name is Jordan Howell.”

Larissa frowned. “Helper? I don’t need a helper and it’s not in my budget right now to employ someone.”

“She’s a college student needing part-time work.”

“What’s she going to school for?” Larissa remembered her days in college, the long hours and struggle to find employment. While her friends partied, she worked at her parents’ pastry shop every weekend and waitressed during the week. Social and love lives didn’t exist.

He shrugged. “Every semester it’s something new.”

Perpetual student. “I’m sure I can find something for her to do. But I can’t give her many hours.”

“Don’t worry about her salary. It’s taken care of.”

She studied him. “I appreciate the offer but—”

“You’ll like Jordan. She’s a hard worker and trustworthy. Her salary is my responsibility.”

That seemed odd but she wasn’t going to argue. Maybe she could give Jordan some big-sister career advice. Not knowing what your dream job was must be stressful. “I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

Garrick smiled. “She’ll keep you entertained.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. A colleague of mine, Ramon, will stop in to check on building maintenance. He’s also been instructed to help you if you need any work or repairs done around the shop. He can be trusted as well. I’ll take care of paying him.”

“Very generous of you, Mr. Labar. I love old buildings. How old is it?”

“Garrick. It was built in 1832 and used to be an apothecary.”

She smiled but felt uneasy and restless at the same time. It had nothing to do with standing half naked in front of her landlord. The man had a natural charisma that made her breathy and achy inside. Most women probably succumbed to his good looks and he probably had a harem. She wouldn’t be one of them.

Putting her arms at her sides, she refused to appear uncomfortable in her current state of undress. “I heard you own a number of the buildings in New Hope and lease them out.” She wondered how someone so young got to own so many buildings? Just her luck that this hunky guy happened to be her landlord and off limits. No way she was going to risk her dream on a hot affair. If it went south so would her lease.

“That’s right. And I ensure my tenants will have successful businesses.”

She laughed. “How can you guarantee that? There’s always risk in a new business.”

He frowned at her without answering.

“It’s a nice town,” she added, changing the subject. “A pleasant change from cow country in upstate New York.”

“Didn’t you like New York State?”

She sighed. “It’s a great place to grow up. Beautiful, peaceful, but nothing ever happens. Here I’m a bus ride from New York City, a short drive to Philadelphia and the shore. And now I have my own shop. Owning my own business is my dream. I have everything I could want.”

“Do you, Larissa? Maybe it’s time to look beyond your dreams. Expect the unexpected. You may be pleasantly surprised. Keep an open mind.”

“I like to keep things simple,” she said. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to change back into my regular clothes and close up.”

“Go change, but let me show you a few places you might not find on your own.”



Garrick never expected his new tenant would be such a beauty. His mouth tightened as his gaze dropped to her small breasts and round hips. The garment showed every curve. She fascinated him. The intensity of her life force and sexuality would be hard to resist. She was perfect for their needs. Once the others sensed her presence, they’d all want to claim her. It was the renegades who worried him. They would take her as a slave. Garrick had to move quickly. Jordan and Ramon could help fend off the others for a time. Larissa was in danger unless she became his crimson swan, and later, marked and bound permanently to him. The problem was, unlike many of his kind, he believed mortals shouldn’t be forced into the Guild. The sensual pleasures of a willing crimson swan rivaled any violent or coerced offering.

“I’m ready.” Back in regular clothes, jeans and a sweater, Larissa buttoned into a gray wool coat that reached below her knees. “Where are we going?”

“An outdoor café and bar for something warm to drink.”

“In this weather?” She laughed as she locked her store.

“They have gas heaters. I want to show you places to avoid at night.” He didn’t want to alarm her but he knew where his kind frequented after dark.

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WHEN LUST RULES by Virginia Cavanaugh

WHEN LUST RULES by Virginia Cavanaugh

Lusty dreams of a tall muscular man with long dark hair have filled Julie’s mind for the last few months, leaving her wanting alone in her bed. It would be one thing if he was only a figment of her imagination, but he was flesh and blood, and had even asked for her phone number. But had he called? Hell no.

So when he shows up out of the blue at her job, she really wants to push him away. But there’s something primal and erotic about this man that calls to her.

Luken is reluctant to get involved with a human female, but for some reason he can’t get her out of his head. He has enough on his plate with running his new pack, but the little blonde seductress presents a temptation he can’t resist.

But when Julie’s past catches up to her, Luken is prepared to offer his protection, along with his bite, making her one of his own.

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An Excerpt From: WHEN LUST RULES

Copyright © VIRGINIA CAVANAUGH, 2013

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

Chapter One

“Hey, waitress!”

Julie Drake ground her teeth as she tried to block the annoying man calling her. The crowd seemed extra rowdy tonight at Harry’s Bar, and Replacement Waitress Number Three didn’t seem to provide much help. Why in the hell did Tyra have to quit?

A deep breath entered her lungs as she loaded her tray with the drinks from the bar. Little skeleton straws poked out from some of them. Only another hour of this mess until last call. A pang of guilt speared her chest. She knew better than to hold a grudge against Tyra for quitting. People moved on. Some to greater things and others… Well, she just had to look for the silver lining.

“Hey, Jules? You all right?”

Julie looked at the burly bartender, Mark Hinley, who stood in front of a large Happy Halloween sign. Concern flashed in his green eyes as he wiped his meaty fists on a white towel. “Yeah. I’m good. Just hoping the next hour passes quick.”

He gave a curt nod and she picked up her tray, turning from the bar and heading through the pool of bodies. Mark could be a real sweetheart and had even asked her out once. Julie wished she could have said yes, but truth be told there wasn’t any spark when she looked at him. Maybe it would’ve been different if she hadn’t been haunted by fantasy-filled dreams of a man with long dark hair and olive skin. Luken.

All she had was a first a name—no way to even look him up in the telephone book. As if she would. She didn’t want to come across as a desperate woman who couldn’t wait for him to call. But damn, it had been four months since he’d come into the bar and asked for her number. She’d been sure he’d call her. Now with Tyra gone, she didn’t have a way to ask what happened. Hell, she was even curious about what happened between Tyra and the hottie who had been sitting with Luken. But no one had heard from her since she’d quit.

That had been a strange night. The bar had been hopping and Tyra had come in with a glum look on her face, but as the night had progressed she’d started to smile. And not just the I-need-to-make-tips-so-smiles-make-more-than-frowns kind of smile. It had been genuine. But then a really good-looking blond guy had come up to her and it had looked as if her whole world came crumbling down. She’d raced from the bar with him and had never come back.

Julie gasped, seeing the disaster coming, but unable to avoid it. Glass crashed and shattered as various glasses filled with alcohol sloshed and spilled. First one tray hit the floor and then a second. Laughter and applause filled the room at a deafening roar as Julie tried to count to ten, booze dripping from her face and soaking into her clothes. Replacement Number Three apologized profusely as she pulled sopping wet napkins from her own pocket, offering to help clean up the mess. Neither of them had managed to avoid being splattered.

Julie wasn’t mad at her directly. The girl couldn’t help that she was a klutz, but the rude patrons who seemed to get a kick out of her soaked state had pushed her limits of control.

Without a word she shoved past the people who had gathered around to witness her humiliation, and she bolted toward the back door. She just needed a minute—a breath of fresh air. A year’s time had done nothing in making this new lifestyle any easier. Country music blared in the background as she forced yet another person aside who sought a chuckle at her expense. Drunks could be such assholes. Her hands met the door and she plowed through it, seeking refuge.

Cool air danced over her wet skin and she shivered as her arms came up to hug her middle. The metal door swung shut behind her with a thud. Her gaze panned the back lot, not looking for anything particular as she tried to rein in her emotions. The trees swayed lightly in the breeze, dumping more of their golden and red leaves onto the ground.

“The money and ease of my old life isn’t worth it,” she whispered into the night as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing back the tears that made them burn. She knew this would be a better life deep down, but some nights were harder than others in believing that fact. Being the wife of a drug lord had many perks, but it was the other end of the spectrum that turned her stomach.

Her ex-husband Ivan Volkov sat in prison where he belonged. There would be no more deaths in the living room at three in the morning. No more beatings. No more bodies jerking and gasping as they died from too many drugs. And for that peace she could suffer through waiting on drunks. She just wanted to move on.

“Looks like you’re having a bad night.”

Julie whipped her head to the side at the sound of the deep rumbling voice, searching for his frame in the darkened area near the trash Dumpster. She knew that voice. Had she imagined it? Booted feet thumped the pavement a second before he stepped into view. Luken.

His long hair swayed against his broad shoulders. A few dark strands gripped the material of his jacket, freezing in place as the rest of the silken length continued its gentle movement. Kissable lips quirked up in a half smile, pulling the skin of his face just slightly tighter over his high cheek bones. The yellow glow of the security light masked the golden-olive skin she knew covered his body. Native American blood ran thick through his veins. All around, he was such a contrast in looks when compared to Ivan. Whereas Ivan was light and fair, Luken was dark and sensual. Luken stood tall and lean, his muscles toned, but not overly large. He had a very athletic build, and even though she couldn’t see through the V-neck T-shirt he wore, she figured his abs would look like a washboard. Her heart rate quickened as she stared across the space separating them. Desire began to bloom inside her, mixed with excitement. Then irritation took its place. He hadn’t bothered to call her and now he wanted to show up when she looked like a mop? “As if it matters.”

A full smile spread across his mouth as he continued to approach. “Of course it matters.”

She huffed a breath of air and turned, reaching for the handle of the back door. “I’ve got to get back inside.” It was just too much. A suck-ass cherry on her suck-ass night of a sundae. God, why did he have to show up now?

A warm hand clasped her arm before she could grip the door handle. She looked down. Strong fingers encircled her wrist. Warmth radiated into her skin from the contact and her heart rate increased. She turned and looked him in the eye.

“Don’t go yet.”

She sighed, wishing she could ignore the tingling awareness his touch brought. It radiated up her arm and settled in her chest. She recognized the fusion of hope and anticipation. Such a dangerous mix. “I’m working.”

“I meant to call you.”

She gave a halfhearted laugh. “Meant to? But didn’t. I really need to get back inside.”

“I’ve thought about you a lot.”

“Why are you saying these things now? I mean, you could’ve just called.” Damn if she didn’t hate how wounded her words sounded to her own ears. He would probably think her pathetic. She sure as hell thought of herself that way right now.

His lips scrunched into a slight grimace. “Things have been busy.”

“Well, now’s not a good time for me.” She shivered as another gust of air whirled past. According to the weather report a cold front was supposed to be moving in. Her gaze followed his to the front of her soaked T-shirt. Her nipples drew into pebbled peaks, now visible beneath the material. She pulled from his grasp and crossed her arms in front of her chest, glad the ugly yellow lighting wouldn’t show the blush rising in her cheeks.

Luken’s gaze snapped back to her face as he shrugged out of his jacket and swung it around her shoulders. He gripped the lapel and pulled it closed around her. His body heat seeped into her skin as the intoxicating scent of him entered her nose. Cologne like none she’d ever smelled before. Warm summer nights mixed with a hint of spice. Her lower tummy tingled, spreading to that spot between her legs that had her clenching her thighs together.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

She met his gaze. Dark-brown eyes stared down at her. It had been awhile since she’d felt the quickening of desire that now began a slow roll through her. “Why didn’t you?”

“It’s complicated.”

She pulled back, trying to remove the jacket, but he wouldn’t release his hold on the front. “Where I come from, the translation is you have a wife.” Too good to be true as usual.

He gave a tug on the jacket, pulling her closer to his chest. “No. I don’t have a wife. Things have just been…complicated.”

Complicated was definitely something she didn’t need to add to her life right now, even if it came in such a yummy package. “Listen. Why don’t you come find me again when things aren’t so complicated?”

“And what if I want to just keep you where you are right now, complications and all?”

His whispered words fanned hot, sweet breath over her face. She felt herself leaning toward him even though the warning signals in her brain were firing off like mad. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

His head leaned in until his lips hovered above her own. She took in a staggering breath as she wondered if he would kiss her.

“Right now it seems like an excellent idea. I want to taste you.”

She licked her lips, ready for him to close the gap. She had a feeling this would be one hell of a kiss.

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THE DEVIL YOU NEED by Sam Cheever

THE DEVIL YOU NEED by Sam Cheever

Book 6 in the Dancin' With the Devil series

Astra Q. Phelps was stripped of her magic and the experience has understandably changed her life. While she’s no longer a slave to the constant sexual demands of her Settling, she’s now powerless and emotionally bereft.

The uber-sexy Dialle, king of the Royal Devils, is also in trouble. He’s lost his anchor to the light and dark forces are threatening to pull him under.

Through it all, deadly forces battle to keep the two lovers apart, plaguing them with doubts of their future. Is Dialle really the devil she needs? Is Astra the devilish miss he wants? They’ll have to decide if their love is worth the risks…or if they’d be better off letting it slip away.

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Excerpt:

 

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: THE DEVIL YOU NEED

Copyright © SAM CHEEVER, 2013

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

Sound returned as my feet touched the hard stone of the floor in Dialle’s throne room. The room appeared empty. I shivered, rubbing my arms against an unaccustomed cold. I also noticed the small cracks in the walls and floor. Brina caught my eye and jerked her head toward the far wall.

A sense of déjà vu struck me as I followed her glance to where Dialle stood with his back to me, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the distant skyline of Angel City. He had his hands clasped behind him, his long, muscular legs spread wide. In that moment he reminded me so much of his father King Dialle the First who was currently warming his sexy heels in the fiery environs of Hell. First had been standing just that way the day I’d been introduced to him.

But there was a marked difference. Dialle’s father had stood with cocky assurance, broad shoulders squared, chin high. Dialle the son looked, in that moment, like a defeated man.

Brina disappeared with a wisp of sound that I barely noticed.

Debris crunched under my boots as I crossed the enormous room. Dust and chunks of rock from the decaying court lay in a ragged blanket over the once-pristine stone of Dialle’s throne room. It was a disparaging portent of what was to come if the court didn’t regain its strength. That vigor was tied to the health and happiness of its leaders.

That would be Dialle and me. ‘Nuff said?

He didn’t even turn as I approached, though he couldn’t have failed to hear me coming. When I reached him, I touched his back, softly saying his name. His head turned slowly. A gentle smile curved his lips when he saw me. “Hello, my love.”

I looked beyond Dialle’s smile, to the dark pain in his black eyes. His eyes were his most changeable feature. When filled with vigor they swirled with gold and silver. When working for the celestial army they often changed to a clear, ocean blue. It was the feature prophesied for the great unifier. The royal who would eventually merge the dark and the light worlds to create a safe environment on Earth for non-magic humans and magic users alike. He’d realized that prophecy several times over, fighting at my side to beat back the forces of evil that would have destroyed us all. But looking at his handsome face in that moment, his black eyes swirling with a color that looked like blood, I wondered if the man I loved wasn’t facing the greatest evil of all.

An evil that came from within.

“How are you?”

He nodded and turned back to the window. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Angel City spread across the horizon, glowing as if on fire under the burning sun that dipped below its ragged silhouette. Dusk hovered in the foreground, ready to mute the details of the skyline and embrace the lights that would paint its form once darkness fell. “Yes. I love this view. I always have.”

“Me too.” He shuddered slightly and turned away, pulling me into his arms. For the first time since I’d entered the throne room, he really looked at me. I knew the moment he turned away from his painful thoughts and embraced more pleasant things. His eyes swirled with the purple of passion rather than pain and his sad smile turned heated. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

He said the words as if he hadn’t seen me in weeks. My heart took a painful twist and I gave in to the impulse to wrap him close in a hug. “I’ve missed you too, bud.”

The air shimmered and I was suddenly falling backward onto his soft, soft bed, a hot-eyed devil falling over me. I laughed. “You weren’t kidding.”

Since his smile had turned playful, the pain pushed away for the moment, I shoved my worry back and allowed myself to get lost in the pleasure of his touch, his taste and the exquisite feel of his long, hard body against mine.

Dialle’s leather-clad leg skimmed up mine, gently nudging my knees apart as his long-fingered hand covered the vee between my thighs. Heat and lust rolled together in a spiral that suffused me, turning my skin to fire and lifting my pulse until it beat a delighted staccato in my clit.

His beautiful lips found my throat and branded me with possessive heat. He lingered briefly over the place where his mark used to create a powerful link between us and I held my breath as his kisses stuttered…almost as if he’d just remembered it was gone.

But Dialle didn’t delay long, his sharp, white teeth nipped the spot and his tongue came out to lave it in a soothing swirl. I moaned at the jolt of awareness his playful caresses caused in my lower belly, where lust tightened almost painfully. I reached up and tugged his white shirt over one golden shoulder and, opening my lips, layered them over his fragrant skin and tasted him. My eyes dropped closed in ecstasy as his warm, masculine scent rolled through me, bringing my senses to life and infusing me with his powerful essence. I gave in to the urge to suck the delicious skin of his muscular shoulder and he moaned, nipping my throat in response.

“Too many clothes,” I murmured.

In a blink we were skin to skin, writhing against the bed. I might have lost my powers but Dialle still had his, and his ability to remove clothing with just a thought was one of his finer skills, in my humble opinion.

Dialle’s long, thick cock nudged my belly, and I opened for him, anxious to feel the wonderful pressure of his hard flesh inside me, stretching me wide and stroking delicious caresses over the pleasure center of my body.

Dialle dropped his head and placed a tender kiss on my breastbone, sliding a trail of heat over the mound of my breast and encompassing a perky nipple in moist heat. He sucked hard and the pleasure of it speared through me, taking my breath away.

I reached between us and wrapped his cock in my hand, stroking it in a firm grip and sliding my palm over the sensitive head with each caress. Dialle showed me his enjoyment by biting my breast before soothing it with his tongue and then moving to the other nipple.

Moisture touched my palm as I fondled him. The drop of pre-come lubricated my gliding strokes, allowing me to increase the pressure of my hand around his rigid shaft. Dialle groaned against my nipple and I arched into his mouth, desperate for the feel of his lips and teeth on my hungry skin.

My legs wrapped around him and I lifted my hips, pressing against his hard cock. “Make love to me, Dialle. Now. Please?”

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LEADER OF THE PACK by Francesca Hawley

LEADER OF THE PACK by Francesca Hawley

Surgeon Dr. Per Goldwolf needs a mate to make partner in a prestigious practice. Predator-Match.com—a matchmaking service for shapeshifters—not only finds him a mate, it matches him with his True Mate. Yohana’s long legs and fair flesh make him lick his lips and her scent makes him rock-hard.

New pack leader Yohana Whitewolf’s life goal is to follow in her sire’s pawprints and lead her pack. Leadership demands sacrifices. To calm her people, Yohana needs a mate. But finding an Alpha male who won’t take over is a tall order. Yohana doesn’t want the complication of a True Mate, but Per is a sexy, intelligent Alpha male and she wants to shred his clothes every time she touches him.

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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, it is necessary to exit this site.

 An Excerpt From: LEADER OF THE PACK
 Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2012
 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

 Per looked up from his coffee to see Yohana striding confidently across the room. Two steps behind her was the young waiter, looking dazed and horny. What the fuck? Per had been on edge ever since she left the table, envisioning her in the bathroom stall with her legs spread and himself on his knees on the floor, plowing into her. Now, here she was sashaying back to their table looking satisfied. He stood to hold out her chair. As Yohana stepped close to him, he was enveloped in the scent of her recent arousal…and orgasm. His bitch screwed someone else then walked back to the table as if nothing had happened. Fuck that! Per caught the worshipful gaze of the wet-behind-the-ears pup and growled.

 The pup blinked and stammered, gulping in terror. “I’ll bring your check,” he squeaked.

 “Like hell you will, you whelp. You just mounted my Mate. We’re going for a walk. Now.”

The boy yipped, flying off for the kitchen at a run. Per was after him in a shot, ready to kill.

 “Per!”

 He ignored Yohana’s cry of command, looking back once, rage filling his vision. “I’ll handle this.”

 The boy weaved between tables before slamming headlong into someone exiting the kitchen with a tray full of pasta dinners. Per caught the boy before he hit the floor, lifting him up by the collar of his shirt. A firm female hand grasped his wrist, while her arm encircled his waist.

 Yohana pressed against his back to whisper in his ear, “I masturbated in the bathroom. The pup was nowhere near me. Let him go…” She sighed as he turned to look into her eyes. “Please, Per.”

 He took a deep breath and nodded. The scent of his Mate wasn’t on the boy, so he released the whelp, watching as the boy ran hell for leather through the kitchen doors. Per closed his eyes, mortified at his stupidity. He had never claimed a female this publicly in his entire life, not even when he was in Sweden before his sire threw him out of their pack.

 Yohana eased away from him, turning to a different man who had appeared. It was Stefano Blackwolf, the restaurant manager and son of the owner, Roberto. “I’m sorry, Stef. This is my fault.
I’ll pay for the meals. Please allow me to buy the diners whatever else they would like to apologize for their wait.”

 Per shook his head. “No. My fault. I’ll pay for it.”

 Yohana frowned at Per. “I will pay. It’s my responsibility.”

 Per’s blue eyes blazed, then he paused. “We’ll split it. Fair?”

 Yohana patted his arm. “Yes. That’s fair.”

 Per blushed as Stefano’s lips twitched, fighting to control his amusement. Per looked into Yohana’s eyes then started to chuckle, drawing giggles from her. She blushed, looking down at her toes. He reached over, lifting her chin with a fingertip, barely brushing her lips with his.

 “Dessert, Yohana? Would you like some cannoli?”

 “That sounds wonderful.”

 “Two, Stefano?” Per inquired of the manager.

 Stef nodded, directing the busboys to clean up the mess while he went to inform the waiting diners of the delay with their meals. Per set his hand at the small of her back, escorting her to their table. He seated her and reseated himself.

 “I’m sorry for setting this mess in motion. I didn’t consider you might imagine me having sex with Marcello. He’s a baby.” Yohana took his hand, meeting his eyes.

 Per clasped her hand before lifting it to his lips to kiss. He froze, taking a deep breath. She’d washed her hand, but he knew it had been inside her…recently. Per looked into her startled gray eyes, breathing deeply so she’d know he smelled her sex. He opened his mouth, engulfing her thumb, sucking and licking it. In spite of the soap, her taste lingered faintly on her skin, bringing his body rigidly to attention.

 Yohana gasped, color rising in her cheeks as she licked her lips. He could see her pebbled nipples tight against the silk of her dress. This was no frigid bitch and he was in big, big trouble because his mind rejoiced to discover it. Per wanted to mount her now. He wanted to grab her, throw her facedown on the table, rip off her panties and sink into her to make her his while everyone in the room watched…then cheered. What scared him the most was the expression evident in her eyes. She wanted the same damn thing!


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LUST UNLEASHED by Desiree Holt

LUST UNLEASHED by Desiree Holt

Night Seeker Series - Book One

Jonah Grey, driven by a lust for the blood of the legendary Chupacabra who murdered the woman he was to mate with, jumps at the offer to leave the FBI and join Night Seekers, who are dedicated to hunting and killing the devil beast.

Jonah encounters a woman and there is such explosive chemistry between them that neither can turn away from it, and the sex that follows brings them to a level of pleasure neither has ever known before. He divides his time between tracking the Chupacabra and erotic bouts of orgasmic sex with Dakota. But he’s a wolf and the devil beast must still be dealt with.

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Prologue

Craig Stafford sat at the head of the huge oak table in the dining room of the isolated ranch house and looked at the other people gathered there. He’d chosen carefully and he hoped wisely. The atmosphere in the room crackled with tension and expectancy. The eight men and women who stared back at him were all seasoned law enforcement veterans of one kind or another. But what really bound them together—what had really drawn them to answer his invitation—was an unsatisfied thirst for vengeance, much like his own.

“Thank you all for coming.” He nodded at the tall woman in jeans and plaid shirt. “Angie has made a large pot of coffee, but we also have tea for anyone who prefers it, as well as something a bit stronger.”

Everyone indicated coffee would be good and Angie distributed full mugs to them.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I asked you here,” the billionaire began, scanning faces again.

“You said it would be about the Chupacabra.” This from Jonah Grey, FBI agent. The Chupacabra had killed Jenna, the human he was about to mate with.

The legend of the Chupacabra occupied a huge place in folklore. Some believed it to be just that—a legend. Others, like Craig Stafford, who had seen its handiwork, knew it was real. The first sightings were reported in Puerto Rico, where a farmer found his goats slaughtered, hence the name, literally translated to “goat sucker”. People who claimed to have seen it reported a hellish animal with the head of a wolf and sharp fangs. For those sitting at the table who were shapeshifters, this degradation of the wolf was a personal insult.

Now the legend’s infamy had spread through both North and South America, reported from places as far apart as Maine and Wyoming. But Texas and Mexico had the most incidents, which was why Stafford was basing the team here.

“Yes. That’s correct.” Stafford was aware that Jonah was a shifter, another reason he’d been included. He stared at his coffee cup for a long moment. “You all know that my wife, Julia, and my daughter, Andrea, were killed several months ago. Slaughtered.” The pain, always near the surface, stabbed through him like hot metal. He’d been the one to find them in the north pasture of their ranch, a scene he’d never forget no matter how long he lived. One that opened the gates of hell for him every night.

“By an animal of some sort,” Jonah said.

Stafford turned his piercing gaze on him. “I won’t sugarcoat this. Here in this room I’m going to tell you that it was the Chupacabra. It has every sign of that beast’s usual attacks, despite what the authorities wanted me to believe.”

Everyone knew what that meant—puncture wounds at the throat, every drop of blood drained from the body, abdomen ripped open. They all looked at each other. They’d seen it before, too. Up close and personal.

“It’s been months since they died,” Stafford continued, bitter memories choking him. “I’ve been stonewalled and placated by every law enforcement agency in this state and this country. Scientists and zoologists have argued with me. But no one has stated positively that the Chupacabra is the killer or that they have any clue to what happened. I know, and each of you knows, because it happened to you.”

Everyone shifted uneasily, but they had their attention fixed on their host.

“Another point. Besides everyone at this table being in some area of law enforcement, six of you are shifters, with pure wolf ancestry. I think that’s important in tracking this hellish beast.” He paused, staring into his coffee. “I’m going to share something with you that very few people are aware of. I, too, am a shifter, separated long ago from my pack.”

Chelsea Roland, a private investigator, leaned forward. “I’m in the same situation you are.” She looked at the others. “Maybe we all have the same story in one way or another. My sister was a victim.” She swallowed hard.

A soft murmuring of sound filled the room.

“And that’s the basis for this gathering.” Stafford let his gaze travel around the table, studying each one in turn. “I propose we form our own pack. A group that will incorporate all the law enforcement skills you bring with you plus the highly developed senses of the shifters.”

“What about those of us who aren’t shifters?” The question came from Dante Martelo, Chicago Police Department. “My wife was killed by the beast while we were on vacation, so I’m definitely in, but are we the odd men—or women—out?”

Stafford shook his head. “Not at all. You bring specially honed skills with you that I consider very valuable to this team. If you all agree to form this team, you will each resign your current positions and relocate here to this ranch. I own the property. It’s isolated enough to keep prying neighbors away and as secure as technology can make it. Angie will take care of all the cooking and household chores, and two of my best hands will handle the heavier chores as well as providing additional security.”

“Besides the similarities in the killings, there’s one more thing we need to be very aware of.” Chelsea looked around the table at everyone. “I Googled everything I could find about the beast and the killings. There isn’t a lot because people usually try to deny it.” She stopped, took a breath. “But I did pick up a couple of very valuable pieces of information. The killings usually come in threes. And the sites are not too far away from each other.”

“I discovered that, too.” Mark Guitron, former deputy sheriff in Montana nodded his head. “Always three before the beast leaves the area to hunt somewhere else. And always in an area partly isolated from the other people.”

“Jenna and I lived right outside the city where the land became pretty rural,” Jonah put in. We liked being away from other people.”

Dante Martello leaned forward. “My wife and I were staying at a vacation cabin in Maine when it happened.”

Voices murmured around the table as others shared bits and pieces of the circumstances of their own tragedies.

“What all this means,” Stafford told them, “is that when we get a report of a killing we need to be vigilant and know the devil beast isn’t through with that area yet. It’s impossible to predict where it will strike so tracking it will be difficult, but we can make educated guesses. We just have to do the best we can.”

“Will you be providing the money?” someone asked. “This looks to be an expensive operation.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I will fund the entire operation and there will be no limit to what you can spend.” He waved his hand in the air. “This house has ten bedrooms and sits in the middle of five hundred acres. It’s surrounded by an electrified fence and we have a state-of-the-art alarm system so we don’t have unannounced visitors.”

“So we’re isolated here.” This from Ric Garza, former Texas Ranger and another shifter. “Not that I care. I haven’t mingled well in society since I found my mother’s body.”

Stafford nodded. “Yes. And the place has an appropriate name, both for its location and the situation. Desolation Ranch.”

“What about personal funds?” Garza asked. “If we leave our present jobs we’ll need some way to earn a living.”

Stafford nodded. “A good point. You will each be very well compensated.” He pointed to a stack of papers in front of him. “I have a contract here for each of you to sign if you’re in that spells everything out very clearly—what you’ll be paid, how, what your responsibilities will be. But you must agree to be in this for however long it takes to track this monster down and kill him.”

“Does this group have a name of some kind?” Martelo wanted to know.

Stafford looked around the table. “Yes, it does, and I hope you all approve. I’m calling it Night Seekers. Because while all your skills are sharp at any time, you operate especially well at night. And that’s when this devil does his murderous work.”

“And our purpose?” Jonah Grey asked.

Stafford gave them each his steely gaze again, studying them one at a time as if to assure himself they would all understand the directive.

“Find and destroy the Chupacabra.”

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MAGICAL KISS by Virginia Cavanaugh

MAGICAL KISS by Virginia Cavanaugh

Being a carnal magic user doesn’t make Breeze Hawthorne “easy”. In fact, she’s tired of the nasty names her kind tends to get labeled with. So when she finds herself paired with sexy water user Chehon McFlint, she’s determined to keep things professional, no matter how bad her body burns for him.

A horrid beast is about to break loose from an underwater prison and Breeze is running low on juice. When she fails to get hold of her usual service partner, she’s faced with a decision that could cost her emotionally. Chehon seems ready, willing and able to handle the job of recharging her, but Breeze isn’t so sure he’ll leave her heart intact when the job is over.

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An Excerpt From: MAGICAL KISS

Copyright © VIRGINIA CAVANAUGH, 2013

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

Chapter One

 

“This better be important.” Breeze Hawthorne pulled off her helmet, running one hand through her black-and-purple short hair. It had already been a long night, but she couldn’t ignore the last-minute text from her superior telling her she was needed ASAP. Working for Magical and Mystic Security had its days—well, mostly nights—that totally made her want to get out of the witch business for good. But one would have to have a choice to be able to get out and things don’t work that way in the magic business. The magic chose the person, not the other way around. Once you had it, you had it. Then you could only decide what to do with it.

Sure, she could open up a little shop and don the bright-colored dress and head covering, peddling potions and fortunes, but what would be the fun in that? Most nights she loved her job. Making other magical creatures quake in fear had its perks. And there was that whole saving humanity part that was cool too. But nights like tonight, when she had already needed to stop and shower off preternatural goo twice… Well, yeah, you get the picture.

Shadows danced in the dimly lit alleyway as a cat screeched and landed on a tin trash can with a metallic rumble. The man standing in the shadows pushed away from the cinderblock wall and began a slow cocky pace toward her. She knew that walk. It had been months since they’d been paired together. Chehon McFlint. A sexy warlock with nasty power. He drew his powers from the element water. And damn if he didn’t have the body of an Olympic swimmer.

He strode forward, and as he walked under the soft, yellow glow of a security light she could see his mischievous smile. His dirty-blond hair hung in waves that skimmed his strong shoulders. The baby-blue tank top he wore did little to hide his expansive sun-kissed chest. Smooth skin stretched tight over superb muscles. Damn if she wouldn’t mind having a bite of that. White cargo shorts hung low on his lean hips. The light waft of air brought his scent into her nose. Salt. Sea. Man.

Moisture gathered around her lower lips and she rocked forward on her motorcycle, applying pressure to her sensitive clit. Her energy was low. At least she blamed her body’s reaction to him on that, but in truth she’d wanted him for months. However, she drew the line at sleeping with possible partners. Being a carnal magic user, she had to be careful. Sex fueled her magic. Because of this, people in the witch and warlock community tended to treat her kind like whores and big ole sluts. She got no respect as a person, however, plenty was given to her as a witch. But only because carnal magic held the second most power, the first being blood magic. Those witches and warlocks were even rarer.

“Hello, Chehon. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

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LUST UNDONE by Desiree Holt

LUST UNDONE by Desiree Holt

Night Seekers Series - Book Three

Returning to her home state of Maine to investigate a possible Chupacabra killing, Sophia Black meets Clint Beaudine, lean, dark and sexy. The heat between them is incendiary, the sex erotic and the pleasure beyond her imagination. Clint fulfills all her fantasies and teaches her ways to please him. The Maine air might be cold but in Sophia’s motel room it’s beyond boiling.

Clint helps her with her case, using his knowledge of the area in which he grew up. As they learn each other’s secrets it’s obvious to both of them that they are meant to be together. Mated. But the Chupacabra is out in the snow, hunting human prey.

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An Excerpt From: LUST UNDONE

Copyright © DESIREE HOLT, 2010

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

Prologue



“I’d like to propose a toast.”

Craig Stafford raised his champagne flute and looked at the people gathered around him.

“We look entirely too somber for a wedding party.”

“You’re right,” Logan Tanner, a former Montana deputy sheriff, chimed in. “This is an important occasion and we should be celebrating it.”

“To Chloe and Mark.” Craig smiled at the couple standing near him. “Sunshine in darkness. May you have a long and happy life together.”

The others echoed him and then lifted their glasses to drink to Mark Guitron and Chloe Hansen. Mark’s arm was tight around the shoulders of his very new bride, the gesture both loving and protective.

This very specialized group of people called Night Seekers was all standing on the patio of Desolation Ranch. Set up as their headquarters, the ranch had been purchased by Stafford, the reclusive billionaire who was dedicating his life to the eradication of the Chupacabra. The devil beast.

El Chupacabra!

The name of the creature inspired a combination of rage and frustration in every one of the eight members of the Night Seekers. Each of them had lost at least one person close to them to the beast that killed in a horrendous way. Victims’ throats were punctured, blood drained and internal organs ripped from their bodies.

Twice now, in two different locations in Texas, the members of the team had thought they’d killed the Chupacabra, only to have a report of new killings pop up not long after that.

Each time the team was sure it had killed the murderous creation, Stafford maneuvered to get the body whisked away to his secret lab. There his scientists did their best to identify where this abomination had derived from. For years, before Stafford became involved, other scientists had operated on the theory that it was the result of two distinct species mating. Now they were slowly coming to the realization that, while that may have been the origin, it was much more than that. Possibly even the result of human genetic engineering.

There was no readily identifiable DNA. And circumstance had led them to also believe the creature was some sort of shifter, able to assume other forms, not just human.

The legend of the Chupacabra was one that had been handed down for decades, the stories stretching from South America to North America. Sightings were recorded in many places and it had been written about and speculated over extensively. Sophia Black, a former detective with the Maine State Police, had read all about the ranchers who swore they’d killed it only to have it turn out to be a mutated goat or coyote.

But the killing spree continued—animals and humans alike. Was it a wild animal of some sort because of the way the bodies were mutilated, sliced open with the entrails pulled out? Or a vampire, as some thought, because each body had puncture wounds at the neck and was drained of blood? Talk about your way-out-there theories. And each time someone was sure the beast had been killed it turned out to be a false alarm, just as it had for the Night Seekers in Maverick and Zapata Counties in Texas. Because the killings continued and the bodies piled up.

And the legend continued to grow.

Every member of the team was frustrated by the inability to track the beast to its actual lair. Since the Night Seekers had been formed there had been nine more killings—three in Georgia and six in Texas. A depressing thought for everyone. Twice now they’d thought they’d had it, only to learn it was still loose. Or another one like it. And that was an even scarier thought. That someone, somewhere, was breeding these creatures which could assume different shapes at will.

If there was a bright spot in all the pain, it was the knowledge that on the first Night Seekers mission, in Maverick County, former FBI agent Jonah Grey had found Dakota Furcal, now Dakota Grey. An herbalist, among the things she grew were the special herbs that six members of the group needed to maintain their genetic balance. The six who themselves were shapeshifters. Wolves.

The most recent mission had brought Chloe and Mark together and she had returned to the ranch with him when he finished in Zapata County.

The event tonight should have been a joyous one. Weddings were supposed to be a time of festivity and filled with merriment. But an underlying sense of anguish gripped everyone and unfortunately took the edge off the celebration. Subdued the happiness.

Mark Guitron and Chloe Hansen stood in the fading sunlight, accepting the good wishes of their teammates.

It wasn’t difficult, however, to read the sadness in Chloe’s eyes. Despite the best efforts of the team her friend Melinda was still missing. Her disappearance in Zapata County in Southwest Texas on the Mexican border had been too coincidentally close to new Chupacabra killings not to tie them together.

While no one except Chloe wanted to say it out loud, they all suspected that if humans were behind the latest evolution of the devil beast they had captured Melinda for their own devious purposes. That her fate might be worse than death.

Stafford, standing to one side of the patio, put down his empty champagne flute. Everyone knew the story of his wife and child, killed by the Chupacabra when they were all vacationing in Mexico. Now he dedicated his life and his billions to wiping the beast off the face of the earth. Night Seekers had been his idea. All the members, from various states and various law enforcement agencies, had been specifically chosen by him.

“I hate to bring this up at a wedding party,” he began, “but I think we need to put something on the table that everyone’s thinking and no one wants to say.”

“I’ll say it.” Chloe removed her hand from her husband’s arm and stepped forward. “It’s my wedding—well, Mark’s and mine—and my friend everyone’s thinking about.” She glanced over her shoulder at Mark who smiled and stepped up beside her. He put his arm around her and pulled her into his side.

“Everyone’s thinking it,” she repeated, “and so am I. It’s obvious there are more of these creatures out there than anyone ever suspected. So either they’re crossbreeding with other species or someone’s screwing around with genetics. And Melinda’s been taken to wherever this hellhole is.”

“I think we’re all aware,” Craig agreed, “that we’re seeking something far beyond what we originally thought when we started this project. It’s not only impossible for one creature to be in so many far-flung places, but we’ve killed two and yet the destruction still continues.”

“I can’t imagine what kind of deranged human being would breed creatures like this.” Logan Tanner, the former Montana deputy sheriff, had seen more of the Chupacabra death trail when Craig sent him to check out bodies in Georgia. The horrific pictures he’d brought back were now scanned into the main file on the computer. “And to what purpose?”

“To kill,” Craig said. “To destroy. Think of the power someone would have if they had an army of these devil beasts.”

Jonah Grey swallowed the last of his champagne. Next to him stood his wife Dakota. Now he linked his fingers with hers.

“Those of us who are shifters know that around the world there are others like us who live only for power and control, and are driven by a bloodlust. It’s obvious one of them has decided to harness that power and enhance it.”

“Are you sure it’s a shifter?” Chloe asked.

Jonah nodded. “I’d say that odds are weighted in that direction. A shifter who knows the power he or she controls would want to crossbreed and enhance it. With an army of shifter killers at his or her disposal that person could wreak havoc on society.”

“You’d be amazed at what some people will do,” Logan agreed. “Or maybe not. In Montana we had a bunch of what you’d call mountain men. Guys who lived at the back of beyond and thought civilization was a dirty word. Three brothers, for example, used to kidnap people and take them up on the mountain they owned and chase them for sport. With rifles. And kill them.”

Ric Garza, the de facto leader of Night Seekers, refilled his champagne flute. “So it seems someone’s decided to create their own wild animals. Shifters, maybe with human DNA if they can achieve it. And what? Turn them loose?”

Craig shook his head. “Sell them. Look at any of your Third-World countries with vicious dictators. Think what they could do with a pack of these devil beasts to exert control over the people. And if they can assume not just human form but that of domestic animals, people would never know when there was one in their midst.”

Everyone stood quietly absorbing the enormity of that statement. The silence was broken only when a cell phone played The Maine Stein Song. Sophia Black’s phone. A former investigator with the Maine State Police, she used the state song as her ringtone. Everyone looked at her as she pulled it from the pocket of her slacks and pressed talk.

“This is Sophia.”

They all watched as she listened, the color slowly leeching from her face. Her twin nephews had been killed by El Chupacabra and she was viciously dedicated to its eradication. She’d been one of the first to be convinced that, rather than migrating to other states from Texas and the South American countries, there were indeed more than one of the creatures. Now, with the increased number of killings all over the country, the entire team was convinced.

“All right. I’ll get back to you shortly.” She disconnected the call and shoved the phone back in her pocket. She looked around at everyone. “That was my sister Rebecca. Sorry to break up the party but there’s been another killing. Up in the woods in northern Maine. And as before, no one there seems to have a clue what they’re dealing with.”

“There’ll be plenty of time to celebrate when we bring this to an end,” Mark said.

“And when we find Melinda,” Chloe added. “I’m for anything that brings us a step closer.”

“Then let’s go into the command center,” Craig said, “and see what we have.”

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FEVER FOR THREE by Julia Talbot

FEVER FOR THREE by Julia Talbot

When Cheri moves to Lobo Basin, all she wants is a quiet place to teach, where she doesn’t have to worry about the perils of the big city. She’s never had a lot of luck in love, so it’s a complete surprise when not one, but two beautiful men show their interest.
 

Cowboy Josh and handyman Paulo come from opposite sides of the werewolf pack that rules the town, and they had a falling out years ago over the firestorm of lust that burns between them. When they both decide they want the new girl in town, the competition between them heats up—and so, finally, does their sexual connection.

Cheri doesn’t know what to do with the bickering men or with the bitey little kids in her class at school. Is she a slut for wanting both Josh and Paulo? The men are going to have to work together to win their mate and help her understand her nature—both werewolf and sexual.

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An Excerpt From: FEVER FOR THREE

Copyright © JULIA TALBOT, 2012

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

 

Josh stared with awe at the tiny little car that pulled up next to his truck. There was no way that thing had made it to Lobo Basin from anywhere in Texas. It had to have ridden on a flatbed or something. Seriously, it was like a wind-up toy. At least it had a Dodge emblem on it. That meant it was solidly built, but sheesh…

 

The lady who stepped out of the car shouldn’t even be a blip on his radar. She wore a pair of leggings under a man’s button-down shirt that had to be at least fifty sizes too big, horn-rimmed glasses and a pair of ugly flats. The way her hair was pulled back, it looked as if it was a dull, mousy brown.

 

So why every corpuscle in him stood up and took notice, Josh couldn’t say. Still, even though he’d just hopped in his truck to drive away, he got out and headed back into the store.

 

She was chewing her bottom lip, looking at the push-button cappuccino machine with a vaguely concerned look on her face.

 

Damn. Josh was pretty sure he couldn’t help with that and he wanted to help her in a pretty urgent way. Too bad she wasn’t looking at personal massagers. He stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered over.

 

“I bet Dolly could fix you up with a coffee. Or there’s the diner. I could walk you over.”

 

“Pardon me?” Bright green eyes flashed up at him, too pretty to hide behind those glasses. Oh damn. He could snap her up. Eat her. Like a rabbit. His cock started to press against his zipper.

 

“Coffee. I like coffee. You obviously like coffee. We could go have some. Together.”

 

“Thank you, but I don’t think so.” She turned her back on him, dismissing him, just like that.

 

He almost took a step back, surprise making him a little stupid. He probably wasn’t all that and a bag of chips but most women at least showed interest in his lanky, blond good looks. He tipped his cowboy hat back, staring. “Is it just me or are you always this rude, honey? I mean, it’s coffee. I didn’t ask if you want to knock boots.”

 

He got another one of those looks, wide eyed and bright. “Excuse me?”

 

“Well, you’re new in town and I was just bein’ friendly. No need to get snotty.”

 

“Snotty.” One eyebrow shot up. “Good Lord and butter, I just need a couple of groceries, not to get harassed and called names. Back off.”

 

Josh drew himself up, already mentally cursing his cowboy pride. Still, he opened his mouth right up and said it anyway. “Too bad, honey. You could use some loosening up. You’ve got a stick up your ass a mile long.”

 

“Tell me you don’t have any children.”

 

The words surprised the living fuck out of him. Josh blinked. “Not yet. Why?”

 

“Because I’d hate to believe that I’d have to teach children raised with such atrocious manners.” She turned tail and headed right up to Minnie at the cash register, the old bitch grinning at him like the dog she was.

 

Shit. Josh didn’t know whether to laugh or spit on the floor. In the end, he decided to laugh before grabbing a cup and hitting up the coffee machine, getting it to spit out a fancy cappuccino. He made it to the register before the little gal was done, sliding it down in front of her.

 

“Truce? I’m Josh Bolton. I’m sorry if I was rude.”

 

“Cheri. Cheri McBride.” Those eyes met his again and he felt that look deep in his balls.

 

“Nice to meet you.” He was about to ask her about being the new schoolteacher when Cheri turned to Minnie.

 

“Is there an electrician you can recommend?” Cheri asked.

 

“They put you in the old Lupin house, hmm? Paulo, honey. He’s the best. Number’s right there on the board.” Minnie’s eyes met his, challenging. Everyone knew about him and that fucking bastard, Paulo, which was embarrassing enough. To have Minnie give the new lady that asshat’s number, right there in front of him…

 

“You ought to get you someone in from Lordsburg.” When Cheri glanced at him, Josh shrugged.

“Paulo’s only a handyman.”

 

Minnie growled, so low only Josh heard it. “He’s a journeyman electrician and plumber. He’ll do fine.”

 

“Excellent. I just need to know my baby laptop won’t explode. It has a bunch of software for the children.”

 

“What went on the fritz?” Minnie ignored him completely but that was okay with Josh.

 

That way he could move close enough to scent her. Her shampoo had cinnamon in it. Cinnamon and honey.

 

“The…” She shivered, and he swore he could see her nipples draw up. “The plug in the kitchen. I need everything checked out.”

 

“Well, you call Paulo. You gonna buy anything else, Josh, or are you just going to ogle the poor young lady?”

 

Josh snapped out of his daze, his eyes rising from Cheri’s chest. “I’m good. I-If you don’t mind, Miss Cheri, I might stop by. There’s been rattlesnakes in that house before.”

 

“Rattlesnakes?” Her eyes went wide.

 

“Nonsense. Have Paulo spread salt around, that’ll fix them.”

 

He was going to have to growl. He did actually growl, subvocalizing enough for Minnie to back off a foot or so. “I’ll drop by,” he repeated. “Soon. Enjoy your coffee.”

 

There was no way he was letting Paulo have this one.

 

No way in hell.

 

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