DRAGON'S MOON by Lucy Monroe

DRAGON'S MOON by Lucy Monroe

Children of the Moon Book Four

Bestselling author Lucy Monroe returns to her “stunningly sexy” paranormal world where one woman has but one choice for her people’s salvation—her sworn enemy...

 

When Eirik, the only living dragon shifter, and prince of the Ean, killed her brother, Ciara was left alone to face her prophetic dreams. Now, in order to find the wolves’ sacred stone and save all the Chrechte from destruction, she needs her enemy’s help.

 

Eirik was only protecting the children of his people, but that day in the forest left a mark on him as well. Controlling his dragon’s fire is the most difficult thing he’s ever done—until he and Ciara are forced to face not only their shared tumultuous past, but a hallowed bond stronger than they realize. As avowed enemies and predestined mates, their quest ushers them into a world of great danger, and a passion hotter than the dragon’s fire.

 

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Excerpt

Her legs dangling over the stone edge, Ciara waited atop the lower bailey tower. One of two in the lower half of the wall surrounding the Sinclair fortress, it was the perfect vantage point for her first glimpse of the newcomers that would join her adopted clan. She was not supposed to be here, but it was a favored spot for her to find both privacy and peace. Most of the clan had gathered in the lower bailey both yesterday and today for the same purpose, but Ciara did not like the crush of so many around her. There was no crowd now. The humans and other Chrechte had gone home, disappointed once again when night fell with no sign of the newcomers. But Ciara waited as the moon rose, unable to return to the keep — her need to see these new clanspeople too strong to deny. As a member of the Faol, she had been told those coming were Chrechte; she strongly suspected they were Éan. Her dreams were not all nightmares and she had seen the birds in the sky shifting back to human form and donning the plaid of the Sinclair. Were these Chrechte refugees like her, looking for a new life among the Sinclair? Ciara hadn’t actually been looking toward anything when she came to live with Laird Talorc and his lady, Abigail. Numb with grief after her mother’s death so close on top of her dear brother Galen’s grisly demise, Ciara had simply done as she was told. Laird Barr had informed her she needed a new life without so many memories around her and Ciara had accepted his instruction in action, if not in her heart. She’d come to live among his former clan, the Sinclairs, without a single argument. What had there been to argue? Ciara had no family any longer, no loved ones to hold her among the Donegal. She had spent the past seven years doing her best to serve her new clan, though her old one would not recognize her. Gone was the stubborn girl who loved her family and people with every passionate fiber of her heart. Ciara did her best to feel as little as possible; she had no desire to love with a devotion that could so easily destroy her again. Laird Barr’s hope that she might forget painful memories more easily away from all that was familiar had proven fruitless, but she did not blame his plan. The memories were burned into Ciara’s mind with a dragon’s flame; it was impossible for her to ever forget or feel completely safe again. That fateful day in the forest and what followed lived inside her in a maelstrom of grief, awe, confusion, disbelief and sometimes utter terror. Not that she ever let these feelings come fully to the surface, but Ciara often woke in the night to her brother’s final scream, only to realize it had been her own. She dreamt of blood soaked walls and a waxen faced woman searching their cottage for son and husband that would never again be there. Ciara was grateful for the stone walls that kept her nightmares private, but she was even more thankful that far from forcing Ciara to marry when she came of age, Laird Talorc and his second, Niall, frightened off any prospective suitors. Chrechte and human alike. Laird Talorc and Abigail treated Ciara like a cherished member of the family, to be protected and watched over. She knew they thought she was broken. Too broken to be forced to mate. She did and said nothing to dissuade them of that belief. She wanted no true family to lose again; she had no desire to ever marry or have children that could be taken from her by that undefeatable enemy, death. She hoped she never met her mate, or that he was already committed to another. Helping to care for Abigail and Talorc’s twins, now in their fourth summer, was difficult enough. The boys did their best to worm their way into Ciara’s heart. It took all her stubborn resolve not to let herself love them. And deep inside, in a place she refused to acknowledge, she feared she already did...even more than she feared the dragon that had killed her brother. Shaking off her thoughts, she peered through the moonlit night, seeking out her first glimpse of the Éan soon to join their clan. She wasn’t supposed to know about the Éan at all. No one, but a select few were. And Ciara, better than most, understood why. However, it was not her fault she knew many things she should not. Even without the eavesdropping. Her dreams and visions had grown more frequent since she had seen the scarlet dragon breathing fire from the sky. And of late, the Faolchú Chridhe called to her even more insistently than her dead brother’s screams and mother’s spilled blood. Ciara rarely slept, and when she did sleep it was to dream, each dream growing more fraught with urgency than the last. She could not eat because that urgency followed her into wakefulness, making her stomach tight and filling her with dread she did not understand. Ciara did not know what to do. Perhaps it was time to tell another soul about the existence of the wolves’ stone. Would that knowledge be safer in Laird Talorc’s hands than it had been in Galen’s? Pain sliced through Ciara at the probability it would. Galen had wanted the power of the stone to destroy the Éan. Laird Talorc would want it to help them. In her silent, stealthy wanderings around the keep, Ciara had heard enough to know this to be true. She knew Talorc was aware of her presence. He was a wolf with a wolf’s senses, but he never scolded her. Maybe he knew she had no one to tell the secrets she overheard. The faint sounds of multiple horses had Ciara looking up and dismissing all thought of secrets and the Faolchú Chridhe for now. A group of perhaps twenty people riding on horseback came into view. She watched intently as they rode closer and closer to the fortress without being challenged. It had to be the Éan. They got close enough, that with her wolf’s eyesight, she could tell that some wore plaids, while others wore clothing made of tanned hides and fur. The huge warrior that led them wore what looked like a kilt made of leather, wide cuffs at his wrist of the same and a strap around his bicep that held a wicked looking knife. He wore his long sword in another scabbard on his back, the hilt sticking up over his left shoulder. The leather strap holding it in place bisected his otherwise naked chest — a chest devoid of hair but rippling with muscle. A medallion of some kind glinted in the moonlight, hanging from a leather cord around his neck. He wore no boots, but sandals that wrapped around and laced at his ankles. They almost looked like what the Roman soldiers of ancient times had worn. She’d seen drawings carved into cave walls in her search with her brother for the Faolchú Chridhe. Was this warrior Éan? He was bigger than those he rode with, at least a head taller than any of the other men. Giant, she would guess he stood even taller than the Laird’s second-in-command, Niall, and easily as broad. Ciara had not thought Éan warriors large like that. Certainly they were not in her dreams. The Éan were strong, but in her dreams they were smaller in build to the Faol. Her brother always claimed they were the smallest of the Chrechte peoples too. Galen had said it sneeringly, but being so much smaller than him herself, Ciara had wondered why he found the difference so worthy of disgust. This man was not undersized in any way and he had the regal bearing of a king. How would he tolerate Talorc’s leadership? Would the huge warrior challenge her laird, the man who considered himself her father? Anxiety spiked through her as the new Chrechte moved closer. Mere feet from the drawbridge that was still down on Laird Talorc’s order, the lead warrior’s features became distinct. And all the air in Ciara’s lungs escaped in one long exhale. This man who meant to become a Sinclair was breathtaking, though his expression was as fierce as the glint in his amber eyes. Eyes that glowed with Chrechte power, even in the moonlight. A jawbone that looked hewn from rock was set in stern lines, his neck and shoulders held in arrogant rigidity that warned danger for any who crossed him. Atavistic fear pressed against her solar plexus, making it hard to draw breath. The warrior lifted his head, a gaze even keener than her own honing in on Ciara with unerring accuracy. He should not be able to see her tucked up against the wall as she was, but she knew he did. He did not look away either. Nor could she. Never before had she felt such a connection with another. Her wolf whispered a word she refused to hear, her mind whirling with thoughts she was determined never to have. Unable to break gazes with the warrior and yet unwilling to remain as she was, Ciara surged to her feet. The nights without sleep, the days she had eaten less than enough to sustain a sparrow much les a wolf caught up with her in that one confusing moment. Swaying on her feet, she tilted forward. She jerked back, but overcompensated and one foot slipped out from beneath her. Suddenly, unbelievably, despite her wolf’s grace, she pitched forward. She tumbled into the night air, her hands scrabbling for purchase on the stone, one finger connecting. She tried to make it two, to get a better grip, but she could feel her fingertips giving way even as she did so. She refused to let the joints unbend, but she could feel blood welling around cuts in her fingers from the stone. The wetness proved her undoing. No amount of will could force her fingers to hold as the wet blood made them slip and she fell. Her wolf howled as she tried to shift, hoping against all to live. But it was not the hard ground that broke her fall. Sharp talons curled around her body, warm scales that felt like living chainmail pressed against her face and suddenly she was not falling, but flying upward. In the arms of a dragon. That was the last her tormented mind could take. Ciara welcomed the black oblivion as it came. LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK

ALPHA ME NOT by Jianne Carlo

ALPHA ME NOT by Jianne Carlo
White Wolf Book Three

Susie White wants no picket fences, no alpha, and no cubs. White wolf woman she may be, but no pack for her, no sireee. Alpha me not, that’s her motto. In all caps.

Mercenary and half-breed wolf Joe Huroq’s not looking for a mate. Stop and go screwing, that’s his motto. Hot and heavy between missions. Then he glimpses his new neighbor tanning nude and the situation explodes.

Literally. Susie’s house is consumed by fire. What’s Joe to do but offer Susie his hospitality?

Susie can’t resist the temptation of big, bad, mercenary, so she suggests a friends with benefits arrangement which he accepts with an amazing alacrity. The sex is frantic, hot, and frequent. Neither one can keep their hands off the other.

Then children go missing. The fire’s deemed arson. Bodies pile up. Susie refuses to accept Joe’s mate claim. Can he keep her safe when she won’t obey a single order?

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Excerpt:

 

Joe Huroq tossed his duffel bag onto the bed, scrubbed the week’s worth of stubble on his chin, and blew out a long sigh. It had been a hellish three months, and he’d seen the worst of the emerging Eastern European countries, but the mission had been successful.

Yeah. Right. The team had rescued the kidnapped daughter of an oil executive from the scumbags holding her for ransom. But he’d taken one look at the broken shell of what once must have been a normal thirteen-year-old, and known she’d never be whole again. She might have been better off dead.

He knew not to go there.

The plaintive notes of “Stairway to Heaven” wafted to his ears. Joe grinned.

His back-fence neighbor, Terri, was in one of her moods. He’d learned to gauge Terri’s state of mind by the music she blared while suntanning nude in her backyard. That particular rift meant she’d had a down and dirty fight with her girlfriend, had a twelve-pack of Heines on ice, and was halfway to being pissed.

Joe’s grin went ape-shit wide. Exactly what he needed.

Shoot the breeze with Terri, get a nice buzz on, jump in the pool, and forget the bleakness in the teenager’s eyes. He shucked his button-down shirt, tossed his boots, socks, shed his worn and grimy jeans, shoved off his briefs, grabbed a towel, and padded to the back door.

Spring in Hallie was his favorite time of year. A light breeze lifted the noonday heat, and the fresh aroma of just-mowed grass perfumed the air. A seven-foot wooden fence bordered his and Terri’s backyards. She upped the volume when Joe slipped the deadbolt on the gate between the two properties.

Must’ve been a doozy of a fight.

Terri and her significant other, Petra, had a tempestuous, passionate relationship. He’d come to believe Terri secretly loved makeup sex and deliberately picked fights with Pet.

He spied Terri on the opposite side of the pool. She lay nude on a lawn chair, her face covered by a wide-brimmed straw hat. Joe raised his face to the sun and rolled his shoulders. No place in the world like the good old US of A, and nothing washed away the sins of the universe better than an afternoon of dissing the latest political gaffes and arguing about sports teams while drinking beer and scarfing down pizza. He studied the wispy white clouds dotting the powder-blue sky as he made his way over to Terri.

A four-seater patio table with an open blue-and green-striped umbrella stood adjacent to the twin lawn chairs. He glanced at Terri and frowned.

She looked...different.

Those boobs. Perfect. Rounded.

At least a C-cup, with milk-chocolate areolae, and fat, pink-tipped nipples.

His cock stirred, and he stumbled. What the fuck?

He’d never felt the slightest attraction to Terri. He dropped his gaze lower and salivated. Inky, tight curls framed a heart-shaped mound of pubic hair from which peeked the prettiest pink pussy lips he’d ever seen, bar none. His jaw sagged, and his cock vaulted to commander-in-chief attention.

Holy Batman and Robin. He had died and gone to vagina heaven.

The song ended. His knees buckled. Joe grabbed a chair to try to steady himself. The metal feet squeaked on the pavers.

Terri jackknifed to a sitting position.

Not Terri. Not Terri at all. Whoa!

The female scrambled to her feet, grabbed the towel from the chair, and clamped the terry fabric over those perfect breasts. “Help! Help!”

Joe blinked.

She spun around and sprinted to the small deck connected to the back of the house.

A fine ass.

High, muscled, and sweetly curved.

He licked his lips and focused on her sleek thighs and the hint of pubic hair that did a stripper’s grind-and-tease peep show with each long stride.

And all the while she shrieked like a fire engine on full alert.

The high-pitched screams made him wince, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her backside, and he couldn’t have moved an iota even if someone had put a GLOCK to his head.

She threw open the back door, raced inside, and slammed it shut.

Joe shook his head, hoping the blood pooled in his groin would somehow speed back to fuel his lust-dazed brain.

The crack of a window being opened penetrated his sex stupor.

“I called 911, you pervert. Get out of my backyard!”

Fuck.

That’s all he needed. He snatched his towel, hightailed it out of Terri’s yard, and locked the gate between the two properties. The local police station was less than five blocks away, and the notoriously underutilized force jumped at the chance to ticket a jaywalker, so Joe knew they’d nail the naked-guy-invades-neighbor’s-pool call in a heartbeat. He barely had time to gather his far-flung clothes and shrug on his pants before the distinctive whirring and staccato rapid-fire sequence of police sirens fissured the quiet of the cul-de-sac. Inserting first one arm, then the other into his shirtsleeves, Joe sprinted to the living room and flung open the door just as two cops, weapons drawn, pounded up the five stairs to the front porch. Hands in the air, he froze. “I can explain.”

The good officers didn’t buy his version of events.

“Exactly what offense are you accusing me of?” Joe asked after his fifth reiteration of what had happened.

The policemen exchanged glances. “Trespassing.”

A finable offense. “You can’t take me in on that. And there is the fact that a stranger’s in my neighbor’s house. What if she’s a squatter?”

One of the cops snorted. “A squatter who calls 911? Nice try.”

“I’ve owned this house for five years. Terri’s been my neighbor for three of those five years. Why is this stranger in her house? Maybe what you should be concentrating on is the fact that Terri’s missing.” Joe’s temper surged. Damn it. He was tired, hungry, and pissed. Not even the memory of those perfect breasts alleviated his anger.

The two men conferred quietly with each other.

“What’s the verdict?”

“We’re running a check on the property next door.”

Three hours later, Joe headed to the shower.

He stood under the streaming hot water for much longer than he should’ve, and still the tension in his bunched shoulders wouldn’t abate. No matter how hard he tried, the vision of those perfect breasts kept popping into his head, and his blasted cock kept rising in hopeful anticipation.

So Terri was in Ireland on an archaeological dig.

Joe vaguely remembered Terri mentioning she’d applied to be a member of the team assigned to a recently discovered Celtic burial mound. And this Susan White had rented the house for the period Terri would be away. Joe shampooed, lathered, and rinsed. He toweled off and fingered his jaw.

He mulled the situation over while shaving.

Once he’d come into his wolf, there’d always been a string of available women. He both relished and hated one-night stands and had fallen into the habit of sticking to one woman at a time. He picked females who knew the score and wanted regular, safe sex with no emotional complications. His frequent stints overseas resulted in stop-and-go fucking. A three- or four-month absence proved the old adage about the heart growing fonder an out-and-out lie.

He wanted Susan White.

And he was going to have her.

Joe dressed, spent thirty minutes on the Internet investigating his new neighbor, and then went out the front door. Whistling, hands in pockets, he ambled down the sidewalk. His street, Elm Close, backed the one Terri lived on, Birch Crescent. Both cul-de-sacs were mirror images of each other and ended in the traffic circles that fronted his and Terri’s houses.

He rounded the corner to Mission Street, strolled past Treehouse Park, and turned onto Bonaventure Boulevard. Glancing at the park as he traversed the five-minute walk on Champion Avenue, he noticed two junior soccer teams kicking a ball around.

Birch Crescent was one of those Hallie streets that exuded old-world charm. He fixed his attention on Terri’s country-style bungalow at the end and dead center of the road.

More a cottage than a house, the dwelling oozed quaint southern country. A wide front porch held the requisite two-seater wicker swing chair, and three antique milk cans painted a soft ivory dribbled a variety of trailing ivies, daisies, and pink petunias.

Side-by-side beds of cabbage-patch flowers, lavender, and catnip led to the steps and the front door. Joe hesitated for a second before thumbing the doorbell.

Positioning himself so she wouldn’t be able to see his face from the windows, Joe listened to the sing-song ringing and sniffed. The aroma wafting from inside was pungent with the perfume of garlic, onions, and basil. His mouth watered. Italian sauce. Marinara maybe. His stomach complained its emptiness.

The door swung open.

Joe’s dick went loco.

Long hair, straight as a pin, glossy and blue-black, framed an angular face and caressed toned, tanned arms. She wore painted-on jeans, a skimpy tank that molded those perfect breasts with tongue-licking caresses, bare feet, and she appeared about to plow him.

He was so done for.

Her eyes widened, and her nostrils quivered. “You!”

Joe’d been a Boy Scout. Always prepared. He stuck a booted foot against the doorjamb.

She tried to slam the door shut. He countered by exerting pressure on the wooden panel.

“I’m here to apologize.”

Her fierce scowl and narrowed eyes, spitting fire, damnation, and intent to maim, didn’t faze him one bit.

“We got off to a bad start. Your landlord, Terri, and I are good friends and neighbors. I’m Joe Huroq.”

Big, black eyes widened. She planted fisted hands on curvy hips and gave him the once-over, pausing with a lip-curling sneer at his obvious arousal, which thickened in optimistic expectation.

She tipped her head and pursed a mouth too red and full to be anything but sinful. “So Terri mentioned. She did, however, fail to inform me that the two of you, good buddies, tanned in your birthday suits regularly.”

She crossed her arms and pointedly cast her gaze to his groin.

“Hey, I’m only human. My dick’s reacting the way it’s supposed to.”

“Well, tell it to take a hike and wait for Terri’s return. I am not her fill-in.”

“Terri’s a lesbian.”

He suppressed a smile when her brows arched and she blinked and then gave a little head shake.

“Terri?”

In her twenties, Terri’d been a centerfold of the year, and she hadn’t let her figure slide after turning thirty. Petite and curvy, femininity personified, she was the opposite of the female lesbian stereotype.

“Yeah. Go figure.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Can we start over? I’d prefer not to have to guard my back for the next year. That’s the length of your lease, right?”

A scowl pinched her onyx brows into a V, and she widened her stance, pelvis thrust forward. “And how in heck do you know that?”

Jesus. The memory of her pink, unshaved pussy had his mouth watering. He tried to erase all sorts of images from his cock-controlled head. “This is how it is. Terri and I get along. We’re friends. I’ve just returned to the US from Europe and haven’t had time to check e-mail. I thought you were her. You’re obviously not. Can’t we forget about what happened earlier and go forward from here?”

Her nostrils flared. “Why didn’t the cops arrest you?”

Now that comment made him want to connect his hand with her ass. “Say again?”

“Okay. Okay. I may have overreacted.” She shoved the door back and forth. “Terri did say you were one of the few decent guys still left on the planet. And that you could be counted on in an emergency.”

“Yeah. Well, that I am and you can.” Joe couldn’t stop picturing her fat, pink nipples. “So, want to start over?”

“I guess.” She toed a circle, and man, did she have adorable toes, especially the big one. Cute and plump and sloped to the left. Joe could think of a lot of uses for that toe.

“Is that a yes?”

“I guess.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can you be more specific? I’d prefer not to have the cops chasing me every time I speak to you.”

“They should’ve arrested you.” She twisted her lips. “Still, I guess it’s a case of mistaken identity.”

A big sigh.

Eyes to the ceiling.

She met his gaze. “Okay, I’m Susie White. Terri did say that you were a perfect gentleman.”

“Now I wouldn’t go that far.” He scraped both hands through his hair. “Pleasure to meet you, Susie White. Are we on the same page now? I’m not a sex fiend. And we’re going to play nice as neighbors?”

“Maybe to the first one. And yes to the second.”

She did that woman thing of tossing her hair and arching her neck, and his cock reacted with a vigor Joe didn’t remember existing since his twenties. Fuck. He sniffed, and her musk went straight to his head. He couldn’t wait to bury his nose in her pussy, and he rarely did the down under.

“Terri told me you have a key to this house.” Her mouth flattened, and she stuck her hand out. “I want it.”

Her lips were rose colored, and when she spoke, her mouth did this little dance with her teeth, kind of like a stripper’s bump and grind. Could she take him? Suck him down to the base? Holy crapola, he was falling fast and hard.

What the heck was she talking about? Keys. Oh yeah. He’d anticipated that move.

“Figured you might. Can’t say as I blame you. Here.” He pulled the key he’d stashed earlier from his jeans pocket and handed it to her. “If you’re up to it, I thought we could walk to Mama Maria’s and grab a bite. Eat with the early birds.”

She stared at him for a few seconds and then stepped back. Eyed him from boots to tousled hair. “Damned if I do and damned if I don’t. Okay. Let’s do this. Kill two birds with one stone. The gas ran out for the stove, and I can’t figure out how to switch the thingy. Terri said you always changed tanks for her.”

“What?” He’d been too busy planning the path from dinner to hot and heavy fucking and missed every other word.

Tanks? As in battle?

“The kitchen stove. Gas tank. Needs to be changed.” She threw him a superior sneer and raised one brow. “You fix it and we’ll do dinner.”

“Not sure I like how this is going down.” Joe resisted the temptation to tuck her hair behind her ears, check out her lobes. He had a thing for succulent lobes. “Sounds like you’re only agreeing to dinner with me if I fix the stove.”

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. So...what’s the verdict?”

“For the record, I would’ve changed the gas tank without the blackmail. And you’re appearing a lot less gracious with that last remark.” Joe stifled a grin when she colored from tempting cleavage to forehead. “I could’ve sworn I changed the gas tank for Terri before this last trip. Want me to do it now?”

“Damn it. Don’t you try to guilt me out. I’m not the one who waltzed into my backyard wearing not a stitch of clothing and a ginormous penis. And now you want us to cozy up and have dinner? Forgive me for jumping to the wrong conclusions.”

He held his hands up. “Whoa. How did we get from changing the gas tank to my ginormous--thanks for the compliment, by the way--cock?”

Twin slashes of red stamped her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I can’t believe I actually said that.”

“How’s about we really start over? Wipe the slate clean.” He extended a hand. “Hi. My name’s Joe Huroq, and I’m your next-door neighbor.”

For a long moment she stared at his fingers. Then she grasped his hand. “Susie White. Nice to meet you.”

A firm grip, a quick shake, and then she dusted off his hold.

“Dinner at Mama Maria’s? Or should I switch out the gas first?”

“It can wait till we get back. Hang on while I get my purse and find my shoes.” She whirled around, stomped her way to a small table beneath which lay a pair of flip-flops and shuffled into them. She stretched an arm to the coatrack and grabbed a denim saddlebag from a hook, adjusted the purse’s strap, snatched keys from a china saucer, and announced, “’Kay, cowboy. Let’s rustle.”

“Huh?” He knew what she was about, but playing possum would get them halfway to where he wanted. “Care to explain?”

“Let’s have dinner and establish a truce. But it’ll have to be quick. I have to study for a test tomorrow.”

“No problem.” He folded his arms and leaned on the door frame. “You might want to grab a jacket. When the sun sets—”

“For cripes sake. I’m an adult, not a child. And you sound exactly like my brother.” She twisted back and snatched a denim jacket from a chair. “Terri said I was not to bug you about your occupation, but that I’d get a kick out of it. So what is it exactly that you do for a living?”

Fuck, she deserved to be spanked. Hard. He imagined those high ass cheeks pinkened and hand-imprinted, and salivated. “I’m a mercenary.”

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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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COME HITHER by Sandra Sookoo

COME HITHER by Sandra Sookoo

Heroes don't wear capes and heroines sometimes have fur. This ain't your grandma's fairytale.

Riley Hanson has fate by the balls. She's a kick-ass wolf-shifter who's not afraid to tell people off, especially if they try to suggest how to live her life. She lives with her grandma in the Wisconsin woods, hoping to keep the worst of humanity away.

Carson Hoode, the guy every woman wants to talk to but not date, drives a truck for Red Riders Express. Six months off a divorce, the only thing he's got going for him is a perfect delivery record, except a heavy October downpour and a muddy road threaten it. As he tries to finish his route on foot, he slips and wrenches his knee. The business end of Riley's rifle closes out his day.

The fur and pheromones fly as Riley and Carson battle their attraction while eluding a back woods hunter intent on bagging more than local wildlife. They'll need a healthy dose of fairytale magic to survive - too bad there's no such thing. Now, if only Grandma would give them some privacy because someone's getting laid at the end.

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Chapter One


"Thanks for nothing, assholes." Riley Hanson slammed the phone receiver back in its cradle on the wall. She pressed her fingers over her eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths before her rising temper got the better of her. Those bastards. Once again the idiots in town refused to accept delivery of her grandmother's insulin, which meant the delivery service would have to send a driver into the remote woods of the hills where she lived.

In the rain.

On a night where the full hunter's moon would make an appearance and cause her to go furry.

"Damn it all to hell and back. Next time I see those guys, I'm going to beat them to a pulp with a pool stick." She couldn't help the words that slipped out; hadn't known she'd spoken them out loud until she heard the soft, wheezing laugh from her grandmother in the room next door. "What?" She popped around the wall that divided the kitchen and living area and gave the older lady a mock glare while planting her hands on her hips.

"Don't give me that, child, I'm much older and have seen much worse." Grandma Hanson chuckled again, laying her knitting in her lap. "The jerks in town never sign for my packages. I don't know why you let yourself get upset this time."

Riley sighed. Of course her grandma was right. She relaxed, collapsing on the sofa next to her relative. She rested her head against the fleshy shoulder she'd drawn comfort from since childhood. "I know, but I didn't have a chance to go to town and fetch it after work. I hate when the delivery people have to trek all the way out here, especially when the weather is so nasty."

"Especially when you're ready for the monthly shift." Grandma Hanson lifted a shaking hand and petted Riley's long, black hair. "That is the real reason for your angst."

"Yes." As if she could forget the one, major thing that set her apart from everyone else in the village. "I hate shifting in the rain." She shivered, imagining how the damp would permeate down into her thick fur coat, chilling her to the bone. It would take an hour in the Jacuzzi tub to thaw out.

"You can't help the weather or your natural instinct." Her grandmother shrugged. The gesture caused the air to fill with her rosewater scent. "Make the best of it. During my shifting years, there were many times I didn't want to deal with the transformations, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it."

"You're right." Once menopause kicked in, a woman's shifting urge declined every month along with her estrogen levels until she didn't transform anymore. "I just wish it didn't hurt so much." Right now, that event seemed so far off. The cold always made shifting worse.

Her grandma's next laugh made the older lady's double chin quiver. "The legends say that if a wolf-shifter finds their true-of-heart mate, their touch can make transforming bearable."

Riley snorted. She'd heard that story too many times to count. "Right, and as dorky as that sounds, I also don't believe that if some guy holds my hand, I won't feel the shift. Old wives' tales probably."

"Doubting will get you into trouble one day, maybe faster than your smart mouth." Grandma Hanson gave her a stern look straight from her childhood. "I found mine back in the day. Your grandpa helped me through those times with a strength I could never summon myself."

"But he was also a shifter. He understood."

"Yes, and you've shunned all the male shifters of our former pack." Admonition hung heavy in Grandma's voice.

"They were asses." When her relative remained silent, she patted the older woman's hand and sighed. "Trust me. It was for the best. I'd rather die than hitch myself to any of their alpha-hides for the rest of my life."

"I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Yeah, it's called retaining my sanity and not being sent to prison for first degree murder."

Her grandma chuckled. "All men can be trying. What you need is a strong man who keeps his strength inside instead of overtly wearing it outside."

"No, I need a cold beer or a big slice of your seven-layer chocolate cake." Riley's mouth watered at both thoughts. "The thing about guys is if they're strong inside, it's only a matter of time before they start acting like a cave-dwelling barbarian on the outside. Especially those jerks in town or from the pack. I don't need 'em."

"The world is a bigger place than here."

"True, but men are all the same. Besides, once they get a good look at this scar, that's all they can see." By rote, she lifted a hand and traced the slippery tissue on her right cheek. In the form of a crescent moon, three inches long, she'd received the wound as a child, before her shifting abilities had fully developed. It had healed but left the scar behind.

"It will be of no consequence to the right man."

"Trust me, none of them have passed that test yet. I don't want them anyway."

"You young people are too full of talk to know what you want. Someone who'll ground you is who you need."

Aw, geez. Time to change the subject before Grandma decides to give me the "sex" talk. "Yeah, no time for a man ‘cause I need my job."

"Modern woman syndrome."

Riley rolled her eyes. "Okay, true, but I have to have something. The wolf thing isn't my whole identity. Shifting under the hunter's moon will take a lot out of me, and I can hole up here, working from home if I feel sick afterward. It's a good life." Riley flinched as a jagged streak of lightning zipped across the darkened sky. Seconds later, a rumble of thunder rattled the large picture windows in the front room.

"Maybe, but the shift this month is different. It's under the brightest moon of the year. Full of energy even if it’ll probably rain for most of it." A flicker of unidentified emotion darkened her grandma's face before she lapsed into a grin. "You work too hard. That job of yours stresses you out too much."

That was an understatement. Riley stood and drew the heavy brown drapes across the windows. She did the accounting and bookkeeping for a few businesses in Harper's Glen, Wisconsin, and while she enjoyed handling the numbers, it didn't leave much to occupy her imagination. Most of the time, stress was her partner and by the time she arrived home at night in time to ensure her grandmother had eaten and had her injection, exhaustion kicked in.

"True, Grandma, but for the moment I need it." She returned to the sofa and slumped beside her relative. "I made this decision with my eyes wide open. I wouldn't do it any differently if given the chance." She held her grandma's hand and peered into her faded green eyes. "I mean it. Mom may have stuck to pack law, but I'll always have issues with it."

"I know, child, but at times rebelling is too much for one person to handle."

Riley yanked her hands away. "So you think I should have agreed with the pack and left you alone to die, or given into the rules of those arrogant males and let them treat me as if I were property?" One of the reasons she fled her wolf pack was their practice of leaving the elderly, sick or dying alone in the woods as the pack moved on. Soon the winter snow would fly, and accompanied with plunging temperatures, no one could survive the elements without shelter.

"No, Riley." Grandma shook her head as she fumbled with her knitting. "I only meant you're wasting your life taking care of me when you could be traveling the world, trying to find a young man to settle down with."

"Oh, lord." Riley rolled her eyes. Again with the true-of-heart perfect mate stuff. "Trust me. I've had enough guys hit on me to last a lifetime, so I'm full up on male attention." She sprang up from the sofa in order to pace the length of the large, open room. Another bout of thunder rumbled through the sky. Except, there were times during the quiet part of the night when she couldn't sleep. Would she ever find a guy who wouldn't mind what she was or understood that she was capable of taking care of herself. She cleared her throat. Not now, Riley. "Which is another reason I don't want to go into town. A Friday night? Those jerks will likely be drunk before nine." Who the hell knew what the asses in the pack would be doing right about now?

I don't care either. That time of my life is over. Too bad I'm a shifter stuck in a human world barely keeping it all together.

Grandma glanced at a German-style cuckoo clock on one wall. "It's nearing seven-thirty. Best get yourself down the drive and meet the driver—if he comes at all. If not, you'll need to go into town whether you want to or not. I have one injection left."

"I'm well aware." She strode to the coat closet and wrenched open the door. "I don't know how long I'll be out there. Do you need help with the injection and test?"

"No, dear. I've been battling diabetes for a while now." Grandma Hanson stood. As she tucked her knitting into a basket, she said, "Good luck out there.” She covered a yawn with a blue-veined hand. “I'm heading up to bed, and maybe I'll read for a spell. Oh, and by the way, I laid jeans and a warm sweatshirt inside the field box yesterday if you need them."

"Thanks." It was always awkward wandering around the woods in clothes tattered and torn from the shift.

"If you hurt too much from your shift, wake me and I'll rub the ointment into your muscles."

"Okay." By willpower alone, Riley kept the shiver of revulsion at bay. That ointment smelled like wet dog food with a garnish of hot monkey sweat. It was one of her grandma's home remedies, and no way was it going anywhere on Riley's body. Not to mention her grandma slept like the dead most times. Even powerful thunderstorms couldn't rouse her. Once she was down, she was out until sunrise. "Pleasant dreams."

"They usually are."

Having no desire to know what her grandma dreamed about, Riley shoved her arms into a thick raincoat, zipped up and put the hood over her head. She'd give the delivery people thirty minutes then she'd have to abandon the driveway in favor of transforming. Already the lunar power called to something deep inside her. As she left the cabin, she let the door slam closed behind her.

Stupid shifting. If she did ever find that perfect guy, he'd better not mind her being feral and furry once a month—or her tendency to mark her lovers, sporadic as they'd been. Huddling in the parka, she shoved off the wraparound porch and into the cold October rain. Didn't matter. She had her job, her wolf and her grandma, adding another facet to her life would only cause complications.


* * * *


Carson Hoode slammed a palm down on the steering wheel. Simultaneously, he pressed a foot down on the gas pedal for the third time. The rear wheels spun—in midair. The back end of the trunk jutted over the side of a drop off. There was no chance of his vehicle getting back to the dirt and gravel road, especially not since it had rear-wheel drive that was basically useless at the moment. If it hadn't been for that raccoon—or whatever the hell that animal had been—darting out in front of him, causing him to swerve, skid, and then finally slip over the side, he wouldn't have been in this mess.

No, that wasn't true. If the rednecks in the local bar had just signed for the box like he'd been promised, he wouldn't have needed to trek out into a part of the area even the GPS unit didn't know how to navigate. But, the flannel-loving, gun-toting, pickup truck-driving boys at Arv's—a typical small town watering hole—refused, flat out refused, to sign for the package. Said if that stuck-up bitch Riley Hanson wanted something from them, she'd have to come into town herself and have a drink with them.

Carson had no idea who Riley was; didn't care to find out beyond getting a signature. The name on the label said Adele Hanson. He assumed this Riley person was a relation. As long as she accepted the box, he could get on with his evening. Yet another look at the water world outside and the advent of being off work anytime soon slipped away. One package. One delivery. He had one goddamned delivery left to make tonight to keep within his perfect three-year record and now it was … he slid a glance to the dashboard clock, nine-forty, the night was black as pitch, pouring down rain on a freaking muddy trail cut from primordial ooze to the backwater roads of Harper's Glen. Fantastic.

He switched off the ignition and released his seat belt. What now? Rain pelted the windshield, forming eddies of water with no reprieve that obscured his view of the outside world. Once he flicked off the dome light, darkness cloaked him with a stifling hand as if the things that went bump in the night hunted him.

That's ridiculous. You're freaked out because it's almost Halloween.

It wasn't far off the mark. Halloween had always creeped him out, ever since that incident as a freshman in high school when the jocks had jumped him at a local "haunted forest" in front of a bunch of other kids. They'd stripped him down to his tighty-whiteys and left him stranded deep in the woods. Hours later, and with the help of the local sheriff's department, Caron had returned home, embarrassed and angry, but vowing to never let himself be bullied by anyone again. A tough job for a guy who had enjoyed band, computers and vintage cars more than sports—still did.

And that's exactly the reason I want to hurry this along. Who knew what kind of person—or creature—haunted these woods.

Despite the internal pep talk, Carson frowned. He folded his arms on the steering wheel and laid his chin on top. Who was he kidding? This was another crappy day in a string of crappy days. He should never have said he'd take his friend's route so the guy could go on vacation. He didn't know the area, had never been to this part of rural, but the guy's wife just had a baby and Carson had caved.

Always the sidekick. Always the good guy. Always the sucker.

He snorted and rooted in an internal pocket of his jacket for his cell phone. Yeah, right. If that were so, his life would be great instead of looking a lot like that muck outside. He glanced at the screen of his phone. Of course, no signal. Why would there be with all the rain and trees? Replacing the cell into his pocket, he sighed. What now, sit in the truck and wait for the rain to end? Nah, the ground could give way and send them both into the ravine. Punching a button on the radio, all he heard was static. No way to get a hold of dispatch.

Apparently, he’d pissed off karma at one time in his life.

Hanging up the hand set, he glanced around the cab. The box on the seat beside him mocked him, as did the wolfman costume on the floor. The guys in the local office had invited him to a Halloween party for tomorrow night, and without a valid excuse, he'd agreed to come despite the nerves anything Halloween-related gave him.

He'd bought the costume as a way to kick his fears in the gut. Time to break out of the old shell, stop being "that" guy, the one everyone called to do stuff because he was a pushover. He wanted excitement and adventure instead of boring and routine. Yet, the chance to try to enjoy life again rapidly slipped through his grasp. Most likely his time for partying would be spent getting someone out to haul the truck back to town, scheduling repairs and explaining how this came to pass to his superiors. He stared at the box, marked "Urgent. Medical supplies." His stomach clenched. "Damn it." No matter what, he'd get the package delivered. Someone on the other end was counting on it, and it could be a life or death matter. Zipping his red jacket, he snagged the ball cap-style hat emblazoned with his company's logo "Red Riders Express" and jammed it over his hair.

No matter when, no matter where, we'll deliver on time and with a cheerful air.

"Well, looks like I won't be following the motto tonight." Carson grabbed the box and left the warm, dry confines of the delivery truck.

Outside, rain pelted him from what felt like every angle as he struggled to slide the door closed. Once it was secured, he peered around the area for a sign of a road. A muddy trail interspersed with gravel wound through trees, rivulets of water running around small pebbles and rocks in the trail. From somewhere at the crest of the hill, he thought he saw what he thought was a yellow glow of lamplight, but he couldn't be sure due to the rain. He hugged the flat box to his chest and began what would most likely be a long trek.

With every slogging step, the rain blurred his vision. When his shoes slid on the slippery ground, he tried to find traction on the gravel, and when that didn't work, he grabbed onto tree limbs and sturdy-looking weeds to prevent tumbling down the incline. He'd plodded on another several feet before an exposed tree root tangled with his left foot. Carson lost his balance and came down hard on his knee. The box flew out of his hand and landed in a puddle a few yards away.

Sharp pain lanced through his leg. Of course, it had to be the same knee he'd injured fifteen years ago during high school marching band. Every now and again he'd wrench it and spend a week laid up or hobbled. He struck the muddy ground with a fist. Pulling himself into a standing position, he attempted to put weight on his leg, and immediately collapsed on his ass. Yeah, I'm not going anywhere at the moment. Annoyed and muttering a string of curses in his head, he edged over the ground, stretched an arm out as far as he could reach and snagged the medical supply box.

Oh, it's on now, fate. I will deliver this whether you want me to or not.

He moved his leg, and again shafts of hot agony shot through his knee. His breath hissed out between his teeth, fogging in the cooling temperature. Water dripped off the bill of his cap and seeped through his clothing. He couldn't get much lower than this. Sitting in the mud with a wet ass, a bum knee and a job still not completed summed up his life.

Broken down truck, a six-month-old divorce, no house, a perfect service record threatened and nothing to look forward to beyond a knee in traction. Fan-freaking-tastic.

"Can I be any more of a loser?"

"I don't know, but if you don't get your ass off my property, I can make sure the other knee is out of commission too."

Carson jerked his head in the direction the agitated, female voice had come from. The beam of a flashlight cut through the gloom and highlighted raindrops. His gaze lifted upward from the hand holding the light and into a face hooded by a dark parka. The eyes narrowed, the lips set into a tight line and the nose of a pistol winked at him from her other hand.

And the hits just keep on coming. "Really, you'd shoot an injured man?" Too bad he couldn't see what she looked like thanks to the oversized rain parka covering most of her frame.

"With no problem or regret whatsoever."

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ALPHA VS. ALPHA by Francesca Hawley

ALPHA VS. ALPHA by Francesca Hawley

Alpha female Serena Goldwolf has spent a lifetime vowing never to be a submissive mate to any Alpha male. But all it takes is one surprisingly sexual meeting with Damien Blackwolf, a dissatisfied client of her shapeshifter dating site Predator-Match.com, and she's down on all fours, wanting to be mounted by the hottest male on two legs - or four - whom she's ever met.

Damien Blackwolf doesn't understand why the voluptuous Serena won't admit they're True Mates. To convince her, he decides to bring out her baser desires by dragging her off to someplace private to get to know her...intimately. But how can he convince her of their destiny when she runs away from him? Guess he'll just have to hunt her down and persuade her.

In a passionate battle of wills, there most definitely can be two winners.

Publisher's Note: Previously published elsewhere but has been revised and expanded for Ellora's Cave.

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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: ALPHA VS. ALPHA

Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2011

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

Chapter One



“What the hell kind of outfit is this?”

Serena Goldwolf’s head shot up at the irate shout coming from the outer office of her shapeshifter matchmaking business, Predator-Match.com. She brushed her bangs off her forehead with a sigh. Damn it, couldn’t anyone in this office take care of stuff without her intervention?

The male voice continued to roar out there, and she knew her secretary wouldn’t be able to handle him because Kara was such an omega even omega males dominated her. Serena sighed again, saved her database update and headed out to confront the wolf male jerk. Serena took in the male outrage with a shake of her head. Asshole. He shook his head as if he’d heard her. Yeah right. She wished.

“I’m sorry, sir. Really.” Kara huddled in her chair, her head dipped and her eyes on her desktop. Submission in her posture and her voice.

“You people set me up with some stalker bitch! I want to talk to one of the owners, now.” A tall black-haired man with dark-brown eyes leaned on the desk, his large hands flat on the wood.

Serena took him in, her body responding immediately. Damn it. She didn’t need this shit, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He wore a very expensive, black Italian suit, Italian black leather loafers, a crisp white shirt and red tie. The ultimate in power wear for the busy executive. And he was so good-looking he resembled an escapee from Fashion Week. She shook her head to remind herself that he wasn’t all that…he was just a wolf like any other.

Heads hung out of office doors, watching the confrontation with enjoyment, yet no one came to Kara’s rescue. Probably glad to be out of firing range themselves…that’s what she got for hiring betas. The females all wanted him and the males would jump to follow his orders.

Female musk clogged the air. Especially from Lea Redcat, one of her business partners. Predator-Match.com was damn successful. To the outside world, their site looked like a zoo animal match service. To the shapeshifter community, it was a way to find a lover or a life partner. Since Lea was allowing this thing to escalate, it looked like Serena to the rescue. Again.

“I’m really sorry, sir. We do our best to match our clients up with the best fit for them.” Kara cringed lower behind her desk and wouldn’t meet the man’s eyes. Typical omega posture. The male frowned.

“Are you saying you think I deserve a psycho bitch as my Mate?” His quiet voice seemed to scare Kara more than his shouting had because she backed up. It wouldn’t be long before she crawled under her desk.

“No s-s-sir,” Kara stammered.

Damn that bastard. He was done scaring Kara. Unable to suppress her temper, Serena growled. His gaze flashed to her and she felt it all the way to her womb. Damn but he was hot. Life was just not fair.

She challenged him—head up, shoulders back—inspecting him from top to bottom and allowing her gaze to linger, as if she were checking for fleas. His shoulders were broad and filled his Italian suit to perfection. His broad chest narrowed to athletic hips, and she would bet money that his belly sported a six-pack, and not of the beer variety. He had the kind of face that artists wanted to sculpt and women wanted to sit on. His eyes were the piece de resistance—large, dark brown and thick-lashed beneath perfectly arched brows.

In short, he was a god—or a male model. This was the kind of male who never looked twice at Serena because she wasn’t tall and thin, or tiny and doll-like. She had yet to meet a male wolf who wanted a woman with curves, but this kind of wolf was the worst. These wolves wanted trophy bitches.

“Who are you?” His voice cut the air like a knife.

She lifted her chin when the bastard stared her down. How dare he try to intimidate her? She was an alpha female, damn it!

“I’m Serena Goldwolf and one of the co-owners of Predator-Match.com. Who are you?” No way would she back down from this one. The man needed to be taken down a peg.

He scowled at her and his eyes narrowed at her temerity in confronting him. The bastard was an Alpha from the tips of his perfect black hair to the bottom of his highly polished Italian loafers.

“Damien Blackwolf. A fucking unhappy customer.”

He straightened to face off against her, obviously waiting for his pronouncement to have some effect. He said it as if she were supposed to curtsey to him. Not only was he an alpha, but a Blackwolf Alpha. An alpha was a dominant male, but an Alpha was the heir of a clan, or the leader of one. This male had or definitely would found his own clan group one day.

“What seems to be your problem?”

On the whole, Serena was not fond of Blackwolf males—they were too arrogant by half, and this one seemed to think he was God’s gift. She had to admit he was a beautiful specimen who made her wet just to look at him, but she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

He smiled the smile of the male who knew a female was reacting to him. Shit. Her scent must be broadcasting. He licked his perfect full lips. Males were not supposed to have lips like that. Double shit.

“Your much-acclaimed psychology matching service paired me with the psycho bitch from hell!”

“Well, considering your obnoxious attitude with my secretary, it would seem our ‘much-acclaimed psychological matching service’ did just dandy,” Serena countered with a smile.

He growled and took a step toward her. She tensed but stayed where she was. The worst thing to do when a predator challenged was cringe or run, and this man was definitely a predator. If the bastard thought she was that easily intimated, he was in for a rude awakening.

She raised her brow and crossed her arms over her chest. He paused, dumbfounded, looking as perplexed as a pup trying to figure out why he tripped over his tail. Damn it, that made him adorable. Serena shook her head in disgust at herself. Alpha males were not adorable. They were royal pains, emphasis on both royal and pain.

She might be an alpha female, but she was damned if she was going to take an Alpha male like him as her Mate. When she did date, she dated betas because they were easier to manage. Serena blinked. Why was she using the permanent possessive with this one? A Mate was a partner for life, and a mate was good for a tumble. This male didn’t come close to fulfilling her needs for either role.

“Miss Goldwolf…”

“Ms.”

“What?”

“Ms. Goldwolf. I’m not some untried adolescent, Mr. Blackwolf, and I would appreciate if you would acknowledge it.”

“Ms. Goldwolf…” His sarcastic voice was deep and made her nipples harden. She pretended it didn’t affect her, but she knew he realized it did. Why did he show up here today? She didn’t need the aggravation.

“Yes?”

He glared down at her. “This is a business, Ms. Goldwolf, and I am a very dissatisfied customer. I have friends who I’ve told about this company who could very easily withdraw their business at my request. I suggest you moderate your tone.”

That was it. Serena saw red. She stalked over to him and poked him in the chest with her finger while she scowled up into his black eyes.

“Listen to me, you arrogant wolf! You come in here, guns blazing, and abuse my secretary then threaten me. Pull your business if you want. Tell your friends to take a hike too. I don’t give a flying fuck! I will not be treated this way by you or anyone!”

Serena felt as if she were outside herself, and she watched herself in horror. She was never like this, even when she was fully in heat. Oh, she snarled and clawed at males, but she’d never attacked anyone before. She sure wanted to attack this one though. He smiled grimly, and only then did Serena realize his last speech had been a deliberate taunt. Damn it to hell. Damn him to hell…

He grabbed her waist and lifted her easily. He took two strides to the nearest wall, pushing her against it while wrapping her thighs around his hips. He pressed his erection against her wet pussy. She moaned and her head dropped back. She heard him snarl and realized she’d closed her eyes—when she opened them she saw triumph in his.

“Oh fuck.”

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MARKING TIME by Sandra Sookoo

MARKING TIME by Sandra Sookoo

Sometimes the destination is not as important as the journey.

Ava Lesarris has her life figured out. She has a great job, has accepted her latent wolf shifter identity and is looking forward to climbing the corporate ladder. When a faulty GPS unit leads her to a town called Strange Hollow, she's in a quandary, even more so when she's suddenly transported back to the year 1900.

Sam Tremaine is the last of his kind. He's a Phoenix, living in Strange Hollow during what should have been its greatest time - the founding year, but he can't enjoy it. He's dying which leaves him with one regret. He's never found a woman whose spirit is as strong as his own. He wants be remembered but time is running out, not to mention he hasn't been able to get "it" up for months.

Worlds collide as the past and present come together in Strange Hollow. Ava will need to figure out her purpose while Sam struggles to come to terms with his fate. If they're lucky, the special town will offer the answers they're both seeking before the next phase of life begins.

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~Excerpt~

Ava Lesarris readjusted her grip around the leather-covered steering wheel and relaxed against her seat. A faint dusting of snow dotted the ground, frosting clumps of dead grass and crunchy leaves like cake icing. The foothills of North Carolina resembled a fairyland in late November, which suited her just fine.

Over her cellphone, the hold music clicked off and the Midwestern nasal voice of her boyfriend, Jake, replaced it. She grinned as she built white picket-fenced dreams in her head; he was that kind of guy. “Okay, I’ll see you around midday Thanksgiving. If I leave early in the morning tomorrow, I should be able to make good time.”

She waited while he confirmed her plans and said his goodbyes. “Can’t wait. Bye.” Snapping the phone shut, she tossed it onto the seat beside her. Did it bother her that neither she nor Jake had ever said the “L” word during their six-month relationship? Not overly much. She’d steered the mood of their dates. He followed her lead. She’d done the asking out. Jake couldn’t manage to tear himself away from his job as a sports reporter.

“That’s okay.” She needed to reassure herself, except she’d never been in love. Probably wouldn’t know the first thing about wanting to give up everything for another person. But she intended to try with Jake.

Only because he’s the man of the moment.

Ava ignored her wolf. The purpose of spending the long holiday weekend with him at his parents’ house in Atlanta was to find out if there could ever be anything more between them.

At least, that was the plan. The on-again off-again relationship with Jake had lasted the longest of any she’d had during her dating life. It wasn’t exactly something to write home about, but the chance to spend the holiday with other people drove the decision. She’d been by herself for too long.

Her smile faltered. Of course, she didn’t exactly get the warm fuzzies for him when they were together, either. Once again, she was probably too strong-willed for him. Most normal guys ended up ditching her the moment she mentioned anything risqué in the bedroom. It didn’t mean anything that she and Jake hadn’t had even mediocre sex for a while. They hadn’t been alone for weeks and hadn’t gotten a chance.

You haven’t had sex because he bores you and you are not compatible with him.

At times, she wished her wolf were less chatty. “No.” Ever since she took the job as a pharmaceutical rep at one of the leading drug companies in the country, she’d been on the road more than she’d been home. So had he with his own career.

They were a nice, normal American couple, right?

You know exactly why your dating life has hit the skids.

That voice in her head was exactly the reason nothing ever worked. Shut up. I didn’t ask for comments from the peanut gallery. On top of being a career-minded woman, she also had the misfortune of being a latent wolf shifter.

A big freak, actually. What was the point of having a heritage in the paranormal if she couldn’t use it? The wolf inside gave her a competitive spirit and an aggressive desire to excel in everything she attempted. It also meant she had a tendency to question authority figures, especially when they were pain in the ass alphas who thought their word was law.

Not only that, but also life in a wolf pack didn’t sit well with her. Having to bow and kowtow to the males in the pack went against everything she believed in. When she’d voiced her opinion that a woman should be allowed in a leadership position or even have the option to choose not to marry within that pack—hell, or not marry at all—she’d been kicked out as soon as the statement died in the air. So be it. They were entitled to their opinions. So was she.

You’re just bitchy because you’re getting ready to ovulate.

“Damn hormones.”

She wanted to climb the corporate ladder, and if she performed well at this gig she had a shot at being promoted. Wasting time with pack politics didn’t leave much time for that. In a way, they’d done her a favor by deciding the next step her life would take. Corner office, executive assistant, expense account, company car, it could all be hers in a few years if she kept her nose to the grindstone. So what if her love life’s roots withered before they could take hold? Somehow, the idea of being some guy’s wife didn’t appeal to her like it had in her twenties. Now, a few days past her thirty-first birthday, she wanted to be on equal footing with a man in a relationship—as long as he wasn’t a wolf or wouldn’t tell her what to do. Shared responsibilities. Shared domestic duties. Shared bliss.

No man in his right mind would take you up on that offer.

Ava snorted at the dorky way it sounded. Maybe so, but I can still think about it. Besides, I don’t need a man to justify my existence.

Tell me something I don’t know. You have no natural aptitude for choosing a mate. In her head, her wolf counterpart paced in a fair amount of agitation.

“That’s right, wolf-girl.” Ava grinned. Though it must suck to be a wolf with no way to express that side, she wouldn’t want it any other way. Having the wolf inside kept her company, told her that her decisions were sound. “I don’t believe in soul mates.”

And it beat talking to the GPS unit all the time.

You’ll never have offspring at this rate. You excel at wasting perfectly good eggs.

Thanks. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t need them to define me.” Choosing to have a good career over marriage had been a gamble, but it wasn’t like she’d ever wanted to have kids. Somehow the thought of wiping snotty noses and cleaning up messy diapers didn’t appeal to her. Yet, late at night, rolling over in an empty bed with no one to talk with and knowing she’d never hear anyone call her “mommy” held little charm as well. She’d chosen the job, and she loved it. She’d made peace with the fact she’d never shift into her animal. It didn’t make her a reject. It made her unique with a living conscience. “I’m happy with my life.” Meeting people, traveling, learning about new up and coming drugs that could potentially save millions of lives made the sacrifice worth it. If someone took issue with her life, that was their problem.

There’s more to life than a career, human.

“Maybe, but until I find something or someone to convince me of that, this is what we’re doing.” Deliberately shoving thoughts of the future from her mind, she concentrated on the gray strip of road. There were two stops to make, a few people to call on and give the speech for the new “wonder” drug her company was peddling, then she could kick back in her hotel room. It had already been a long day.

“Ten miles to destination on right.” The weird British-accented voice of her GPS device cut into her thoughts.

“What the hell? I’m not anywhere near my destination.” By her estimate, she had a good two hours of driving still to do. She’d pass through Barnard, then continue west, skirting the mountain range and hit the next town without incident. Poking at the navigation unit, she didn’t find anything wrong with the calculations.

Heavy silence reigned in the sedan for long moments. Her wolf even remained quiet, which would have been a relief if Ava hadn’t been concerned at the GPS’s odd behavior. Minutes later, the town of Barnard came and went. The great thing about this area of the country was the coziness of the settlements. If you blinked an eye, you’d miss them, but a new one would always be waiting down the line.

“Arriving at destination.” The electronic voice spoke the statement with firm authority.

“No, I’m not!” All around her, the scenery looked much the same—wooded areas on both sides, broken only by the empty gray ribbon of the roadway. Jabbing a forefinger at the GPS screen, she re-entered her original coordinates. “What part of take me here do you not understand?”

Inside, her wolf growled. Having trouble dominating an electronic device?

Nope, I think I’ve got it.

Ava grinned, but her victory was short-lived as the device said, “Recalculating. Destination ahead.”

Hot anger shot through her body. “I am so getting a refund on this piece of junk.” That was the last time she bought something because the sales guy had a cute smile.

Steep ravines lined both sides of the road, and making a U-turn would be tricky since the curve up ahead meant she’d be doing it blind. Not to mention she wasn’t familiar with the turning radius of the rental car. “Fine, you win. I’ll get my bearings in the next town. While I’m there, I’m throwing your malfunctioning ass in the trash.”

Slowing her speed, she guided the car around the sharp bends. At some point, she passed a tiny, wooden sign saying Welcome to Strange Hollow in blue-painted letters. She rolled her eyes. Really, that was the name of a legitimate town?

Sounds interesting.

“Oh no.” She shook her head even though her wolf couldn’t see. “Every time you say that, something bad happens in my life. The last time was in a bar when that pink drink caught your eye.” Once she’d finished the cocktail, she’d been so drunk off her ass she still wasn’t sure how she’d made it home. “Don’t get any ideas, wolf.” Ava wrapped her fingers tighter around the steering wheel. “We’re not staying.”

After the last set of curves, a ramshackle exit ramp came into view on her right. Another sign bearing the name of the town sat beneath the number zero. Ava clenched her teeth and pulled off the highway. The ramp headed down a semi-steep incline and wound its way through a heavily-wooded area. Finally, it emptied into a typical Main Street of any small town in the country.

Small shops lined each side of the street, nestled together as if they’d been there a hundred years. Dried leaves blew down the sidewalks, and more than a few stoops hosted arrangements of Indian corn and pumpkins to celebrate the season. A Norman Rockwell enthusiast’s dream.

As she neared the end of the street, a stately town hall-type building loomed into view. The midday sun sparkled off its plate glass windows. At its base, a lone woman stood, one hand raised as if in welcome.

Ava frowned. Where were the superstores or the gas stations with mini-marts attached? Where were the fast food eateries that covered the ground quicker than dandelions? This tiny town of Strange Hollow seemed stuck in the past. She glanced around, exhaling a sigh when she spotted other cars and even a light-blue scooter in one lot. Tucked away in one corner of the square, a handmade sign advertising an Internet café swung in the breeze. At least it confirmed she wasn’t dreaming. I’m still in small town modern America.

As she pulled over to the curb in front of the Town Hall, she threw the car into park, leaving it idling. She’d get directions from the woman in the long, flowing, slightly old-fashioned green dress, then get back on the road. At this point, she couldn’t trust the GPS anymore. Maybe the proximity of the mountain screwed it up.

I like it here. We could belong in this town.

No, we can’t. I’d get bored too fast in this backwater burg. “I’ll make this short and sweet.” Releasing her seat belt, Ava opened her car door and stepped outside. A cool breeze ruffled her blonde locks and sent shivers over skin not covered by her navy-blue suit. “Excuse me, ma’am. Can you tell me how to get back on the highway?”

The woman in green moved down a few steps. The gown fit her short, stout frame well, albeit the style heralded a time long gone. A slight smile touched her lips while vibrant brown hair waved loosely to the middle of her back. Pointy ears poked out from the tresses. “Welcome to Strange Hollow, Ava. I am Jacinda Fergus, founder of this town.”

Shock skittered down Ava’s spine, quickly followed by icy trepidation. “How do you know my name?”

“Everything in time, which,” a devilish light danced in Jacinda’s violet eyes, “you do not have nearly enough of at the moment.”

“Hi. Look, this seems like a nice enough area, but I have zero time for sightseeing, okay?” Ava glanced around the town square and noticed a few other residents appearing in various doorways. Great, here come the nosy neighbors. “Do you know the way back, or don’t you? It’s not a hard question.”

Your mouth will get you into trouble, human.

She rolled her eyes. At times, her wolf annoyed her more than any flesh-and-blood person she knew.

Jacinda moved down the rest of the steps to stand in front of her. “No, it is not a hard question.” An enigmatic smile flitted briefly across her lips before vanishing beneath a mask of serious concern. “But you are correct. You do have zero time.” The woman winked.

Ava opened her mouth to give the strange being a piece of her mind when a whirlwind swirled around her. The vortex whipped her hair and tore at her clothes. Dust and leaves caught in the angry air, temporarily blinding her to the surroundings.

A flash of bright light cut across her vision, then darkness sucked her into a silent vacuum.


* * * *


She hit the ground with a hard thump that jarred every bone in her body. “Good grief! Talk about a stiff wind.” Struggling to her feet, Ava knocked the dust off the seat of her pants. “Is this normal weather for this area?”

“Welcome to Strange Hollow, Miss Lesarris.” The greeting held lyrical notes that reminded her of birdsong—Jacinda’s voice.

“Um, you already said that.” Ava narrowed her eyes as the last of the whirlwind faded and she could actually see her surroundings.

Town Hall stood before her as well as the same cozy shops, except they held a veneer of newness about them, as if they’d only been erected not long ago. In fact, Ava swore she could smell the sweet fragrance of newly-cut lumber in the air.

Spinning around in a slow circle, Ava gawked at some of the other differences. The streets lining the square weren’t made of asphalt. Instead, cobblestones formed the ground cover. A horse pulled a smart, black carriage along one street and the ring of its shoes against the brickwork echoed in the afternoon air. In the distance, the long, mournful whistle of a train put her in mind of simpler times.

When she turned back to stare at the strange woman she’d just met, her stomach clenched into knots. I have a bad feeling about this. Even more surprising, her wolf remained silent. “Where are we?”

Jacinda tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. “Strange Hollow, of course, but it is more a question of when we are that you might like to consider.”

“What are you talking about?” A low-grade headache formed between her eyebrows. “Where’s my car?” As her heart tried to pound its way out of her rib cage, she glanced at the street. No sign of her rental. Which meant her pharmaceutical case, her cell phone and her purse were also gone. “Lady, I need answers, right now.”

Time to get to the bottom of this hallucination.

“I am sure you do, but I cannot give them to you.” Another enigmatic smile passed over her round face. “I can tell you this. You have come to the right place, yet not the right time. You are here to find what you think you do not need.”

Ava blinked, unable to wrap her brain around the whole, weird tale. “Okay. Why am I here? What is it I need?” Her gaze skittered to a few residents walking along the street. Both males and females were dressed in the same quaint clothing that Jacinda wore. Everyone wore hats and gloves, and it seemed they were all overly polite to each other. “Why am I here?” It seemed right to repeat her earlier question if only to stave off the tide of rising panic.

“You are here to help fulfill a destiny that does not belong to you.”

“Why is this my problem?” Jacinda didn’t answer. It didn’t make sense. “What if I have no clue how to do that?” Not to mention, why would she want to expend the energy on somebody else when she needed the resources to find a way home?

Jacinda shrugged as if the matter didn’t concern her. “You will remain stuck in this time period for as long as the task takes. I have no control over the whims of fate.”

Nausea made Ava’s throat prickle with warm saliva. “What’s the year?” Like passing a car wreck, she wanted to know but didn’t at the same time.

“The year of Our Lord, 1900. You have come during a wonderful anniversary year as I founded Strange Hollow months ago in April. Outcasts like yourself are welcomed here with open arms.”

“Outcasts?” She forgot the sickening sensations in light of this new info. “Why would you assume I’m an outcast?”

One of Jacinda’s eyebrows arched. “You are a latent wolf, are you not?”

How could she possibly know that? “Maybe.” Best not anger the natives.

“There are few rules here. Murder and rape are both punishable by death. Elitists will be eaten on sight. This is natural selection not murder. Feel free to mingle with the townsfolk, but I will caution you to procure clothing more suited to this time period.” She began walking toward the Town Hall. Almost as an afterthought, she paused and turned to hold Ava’s gaze. “I wish you luck, Miss Lesarris. More lives than just your own depend on you figuring out this riddle.”

The panic she’d been holding in check exploded into full-out terror. Cold chills raced over her skin. “What I am supposed to do? Where will I live? All my money is in my car and I don’t even have that right now.”

Jacinda waved away her concerns. “There is a dress shop not far from here. You will find their clothing selection most pleasing. Afterward, feel free to wander the town. If you’re ever feeling sentimental, the train station will be your best bet. This is all I can tell you.”

As Ava stared, alternating between bursting into tears and screaming obscenities at the woman who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand her viewpoint, Jacinda Fergus literally vanished into thin air.

Her wolf picked that moment to chime in. I think we’re screwed.

“No crap.” And definitely not in a good way. What exactly did a person do when suddenly whisked back in time without a valid explanation or reason? “What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Of course, her wolf had no smart answer this time.

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