PROVOKED LOVER by Zenobia Renquist

PROVOKED LOVER - Caveat Emptor Book Three by Zenobia Renquist

After an attack leaves Theron's allies scattered, Sicily finds herself in the care of Lamon, a vampire who looks like he would rather kill her than protect her.

The unlikely pair must become very close -- sexual energy is necessary to disrupt the spell the mages are using to track Sicily.

Emotions become confused as their bodies entwine. Sicily finds herself falling for a man she can't have... or can she?

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Caveat Emptor: Provoked Lover
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


Sicily stared at her phone in disbelief, not believing the number displayed on the caller ID.

Ryver.

She hadn't heard from Ryver in over a week. That was a big deal for Sicily because of the reports of vampires breaking free of their docility charms and then massacring their human masters. Ryver had purchased a vampire, despite Sicily's efforts to talk her best friend out of the purchase.

Sicily had never liked the idea of owning a vampire. It was too much like playing with matches while living in a house soaked with gasoline. She didn't care how safe the mages proclaimed the vampires to be once under the control of the docility charm. Some part of Sicily had always felt the charms would fail. Her worst fears had come true, and her first worry had been Ryver, who had staunchly refused to return her vampire. Only the promise of a daily phone call to assure Ryver's continued health had kept Sicily from dragging the vampire back to the mages herself.

Then one day, Ryver didn't call. Sicily could only keep her paranoia at bay twenty-four hours before she was on the phone with the cops. No trace of Ryver could be found, not even foul play. The cops said she had merely left and forgot to call. After a week of Sicily's incessant phone calls, the cops elevated Ryver's case to a missing person. Ryver was a vampire owner, so the cops and mages assumed she was dead and her body stuffed in an unmarked grave between here and the vampire territories.

Sicily refused to believe that. She couldn't believe that. Ryver had to be alive. The fact that her number was appearing on Sicily's cell proved it.

Sicily pushed the talk button. "Ryver?"

"Sissy!"

"Oh, God, Ryver. It's good to hear from you." Sicily felt happy tears spring to her eyes. Ryver was alive. Nothing else mattered except for that.

"I'm sorry, Sissy. I'm sorry. I should have called sooner and let you know I'm safe."

"Safe where? Where are you?"

There was a pause so long that Sicily thought the call had dropped. She pulled the phone from her ear and looked at the call status. It was still connected. "Ryver, are you still there?"

"I'm here. I'm with Theron in vampire territory."

All of Sicily's happy feelings stopped. She asked in a deadpan voice, "What?"

"Don't worry. I'm safe."

If Ryver had been standing in front of her, Sicily would have shaken the woman until some sense fell out. "Ryver, are you crazy? How can you think you're safe?" Sicily didn't mean to yell, but that was the only volume that would come out of her mouth.

"I am. Theron is with me."

"So what?"

"Sissy, there's something I didn't tell you before." Ryver sighed into the phone. "When the charms started failing, Theron's did too."

"I knew it. I knew it." Being right didn't make Sicily feel better. "What did he do to you?"

Again there was a long silence. Ryver made a surprised squeak before Sicily could think the call might have cut off. Sicily couldn't interpret the sound or guess what had caused it. "Ryver?"

"Anyway, I'm safe with Theron. I need your help, though."

"You want me to call the cops?" Sicily already had her hand on her landline phone. She had the detective assigned to Ryver's case on speed dial.

"No. Nothing like that. I need some way to remove Theron's charm."

The urge to shake Ryver returned. Sicily settled on squeezing the phone. "Why in the hell would you want to remove the docility charm? If it's still working, make him bring you home."

Sicily would have said more but the sudden appearance of five robe-clad men in her living room gave her pause. She looked at each of the men in turn. She tried to ask them what they were doing in her house but no sound left her lips. Several attempts ended with similar results.

The men's sudden appearance, and her inability to make any sound to alert Ryver or anyone else of this intrusion, panicked Sicily. She tried to scream. That didn't work, so she stopped after the first few seconds of nothing.

On the phone, Ryver said in a rush, "Sissy, I know this is all weird to you, and you probably don't believe me, but I'm perfectly safe with Theron. I want to set him free. I was hoping you could help. Didn't you say you dated a mage back in college?"

Sicily tried to tell Ryver that she had more pressing problems than Theron and his stupid docility charm. When her mouth still refused to make sound, she tried to end the call. Sicily thought Ryver was crazy for willingly consorting with a vampire -- and Sicily still had doubts about the willing part -- but Sicily wouldn't let the mages get her. Her fingers refused to move, which meant she couldn't push the end button or toss away the phone.

Ryver asked, "Sissy?"

Sicily found her mouth moving of its own accord. "I'm still here. Yes, I dated a mage in college, but I haven't talked to him since we broke up."

Those weren't her words. Sicily couldn't stop the words from being spoken or say more to warn Ryver that Sicily wasn't the one talking.

"Oh."

"I am friends with another mage, however. You're in luck, since he happens to be a vampire sympathizer."

"You never mentioned him before."

"You never mentioned your vampire was loose." Sicily wanted to snort at that flippant response. It was something she would actually say, and might have said if she had control of her mouth.

Ryver gave a dry laugh. "That's true."

"I'll give him a call, ask him about the charm and then call you back. Okay? You're going to stay by the phone, right?"

"Yes. I'll be right here. Thanks, Sissy."

"No problem. Bye." Sicily pushed the end button, again moving against her will.

Obviously the mages surrounding her were the culprits. She glared at the man standing directly in front of her.

He nodded to her and said, "I am Mage Lord Quincy. These other fellows are my associates. Your mention of removing the docility charm alerted us to you."

Sicily had heard rumors that the mages monitored the phones. Now she had proof. If she lived past this encounter, she would blast the Internet with the news.

Quincy said, "Your friend has been led astray by vampiric suggestion. We can help her."

"How?" Sicily gasped in surprise at being able to talk again. "I can talk."

One of the other mages said, "We had to command your voice and body for a short time. It was necessary to keep you from alerting your friend to our presence. The puppet spell is now ended."

Sicily snapped, "You shouldn't have done it at all."

Quincy said, "That is in the past. We plan to help your friend by rescuing her from the vampires." He twirled his hand, making a round jewel appear on his palm, and held it out to her. "This is what your friend requires to remove the docility charm. Once it is removed, it will transport you and your friend back here."

She didn't want to take it. No one had ever accused Sicily of being naÔve or gullible. She didn't believe for a second that these five mages had entered her house without permission, after spying on her conversation, just to help out Ryver and her vampire.

She stepped back while shaking her head. "Not going to happen."

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WINGING IT by Sandra Sookoo

WINGING IT by Sandra Sookoo

Joy and despair, light and dark, you can't have one without the other.

Devlin Addams has recently returned home from Afghanistan. Haunted by memories that he survived the fighting while his buddies didn't, as well as chased by the knowledge his mom is crazy, he's having trouble acclimating himself to civilian life. Now, armed with a dog and a therapist, he constantly battles the urge to end it all.

Lia Farry - because her Fae name is a mouthful - has tumbled into the Mortal Realm through the Veil between worlds by mysterious circumstances. Thrust into a new and harsh human existence, finding anything to be happy about is hard. If she can't go home, she'll have to make it work.

Forced to interact, Dev's protective instincts kick in, but he's unprepared for the onslaught of lust Lia represents. He wants a normal life but not at the expense of getting involved. Lia knows she soothes his torment yet she's battling her own problems. Desiring Dev is a dangerous prospect. Add in a meddling Fae queen and suddenly life as they know it will change forever. Love is at stake. A leap of faith is all they have to depend on.

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EXCERPT:

Devlin Addams tugged at the red nylon leash with a bit more force than the last two times. “Damn it, Zeus, come on. Either do your business or hold it, but make a freaking decision.” He glanced at the black-and-white Jack Russell terrier and rolled his eyes. Yeah, Zeus was a real great moniker to give a stubby-legged canine like his. There was no way the dog could ever be mighty.

He snorted. According to his therapist, sharing his life with a pet companion would go a long way toward softening the images in his mind, as well as teach him how to open his heart to another living thing. Right. One little dog wasn’t going to purge the horrors of war he’d seen. One finicky canine couldn’t vanquish the remembrances of the lives he’d snuffed out while looking through the scope of his sniper rifle. They’d be with him forever and probably beyond.

Giving the dog a couple feet of leash, Dev allowed the old familiar depression to seep into his consciousness again. The black mood had been a constant friend in recent months, so much so that he’d begun to seriously consider ending his life. Why was he the one chosen to come back home in one piece when others—his friends—hadn’t been so fortunate? One guy in his unit lost an arm thanks to a sniper they’d never found. Another guy’s face was torn up due to a surprise hand-to-hand combat situation. And they were the lucky ones. Some came back in caskets.

One bullet. That’s all it would take to end all these thoughts, all these feelings.

At the far end of the cul-de-sac, he guided the dog around a speed limit sign, pausing as the canine sniffed around the sign’s base. Of course, if he did shoot himself, what would happen to Zeus? Who would take care of him? A half-smile lifted one corner of his mouth. Maybe he should revise his will and leave his house and all his assets to the dog. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Or leave it all plus the dog to his therapist. That would balance out everything she’d made him relive over the months of sessions.

Of course, putting a bullet through his temple would be taking the easy way out. For whatever reason, he’d survived the horrors of Afghanistan. Now, every day he went to a very different life as a security guard for the local school district, defending the public against the bad guys, except they didn’t wield rifles; they used their cameras and computers to harm children.

Bastards.

So much evil in the world, there was always someone to eradicate.

Okay, so maybe committing suicide wasn’t the answer, but there had to be something that could tame the gaping maw of loneliness chewing up his insides. He needed to find a hobby that would make him feel human again. Beating the crap out of potential child molesters just didn’t cut it.

Tugging the leash when the dog didn’t seem interested in whizzing on the street sign, Dev headed up the sidewalk toward his ranch-style house. Already the humidity was at an all-time high. Sweat trickled down his back, causing his t-shirt to stick to his skin.

“It’s now or never, Zeus. I need the air conditioning.” A short bark of laughter followed. What a wuss he’d become since arriving stateside. They sure didn’t have the creature comforts holed up in those Goddamned wastelands in the desert.

Who the hell cared? Maybe he deserved to take it easy now.

The restraint all but snapped in Dev’s hand. Insistent barking soon followed. The dog pulled, dragging Dev with him, almost bouncing with excitement.

“Settle down, boy.” Dev wound a length of leash around his hand. “What the hell’s gotten into you tonight?” He glanced at the dark trees but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “It’s probably a squirrel. Leave it alone.”

Still, old habits die hard. He left the sidewalk, allowing Zeus to sniff around some tall weeds and thin plants. He’d bought the house a year ago and in that time, he’d never seen any homeless people or vagrants in the wooded area. When Zeus began to growl and the hackles on his back stood to attention, Dev wished he’d brought his gun. He didn’t survive four years in Afghanistan to be taken down in a residential cul-de-sac for drug or booze money.

His muscles tensed. The hair on his nape prickled. Something was out there and it was coming this way. No problem. He didn’t need a gun to kill an adversary. His hands were just as deadly.

Seconds later, the nameless threat burst through the hedgerow, a peach-colored blur. It tripped over Zeus, who continued to bark as well as jump up and down, dancing on his hind legs. The unknown object or person crashed into Dev’s chest with the force of a small rocket, sending him hurtling to the grass in a tangle of limbs and wiggling, muscled canine.

He landed hard on his back. The wind whooshed from his lungs. The faint jingle of his dog tags filled his ears. “What the hell?” The question sounded wheezy to his ears. He fought with the hysterical woman. Even a blind man would know that soft, perfumed skin under him contained certain body parts that identified her as a female. He gripped her shoulders, effortlessly flipping her onto her back. He needed the advantage in case she was dangerous, and damn. How could a woman with those curves not be? Zeus stood at her head, alternately barking and licking her cheek, his tail wagging in exuberant welcome.

Definitely not the best companion for a bitter, ex-military man, or so he kept telling his shrink. Of course, the pet shop clerk and his therapist listened about as well as his dog.

“Who are you?” He caught her wrists as she flailed about, pinning her hands to the grass on either side of her head, unmindful of the light brown hair that spread over the ground in a tangled mass. Information was needed, and in vast quantities. People just didn’t come out of the woods looking like the hounds of Hades were after them. “Why the hell are you naked?” Her body heat radiated through his black t-shirt and khaki cargo pants, so hot all he wanted to do was spend a few endless moments acquainting his lips with her perfect skin.

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SOUL WARRIOR by Sam Cheever

SOUL WARRIOR by Sam Cheever

Sick of heroes and on the run from angry gods, Bellona Fara, a Valkyrie, travels the country, running from her past and looking for a bad boy to love.

She meets Fallen Angel Rael during a tragic earthquake that threatens a small town in Southern California and is immediately drawn to his smoldering sexuality and tortured soul.

Under siege from Bellona's Valkyrie coven and feeling the wrath of the gods, their growing feelings will be sorely tested as they try to deal with things beyond their control.

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Excerpt:

Rael’s frown deepened as his body warmed. The woman gliding toward him across the bar was tall, possibly over six feet, with waist length white-blond hair that swayed heavily around softly rounded hips when she walked.

Her eyes were wide, green, and surrounded by thick, dark gold lashes. Her face was oval, on the pale side, and she had a long, aquiline nose. Her mouth was full, pink, and made his loins clench with sudden need.
If it weren’t for the predator-like stride and the neck to toe black leather, Rael might be tempted to call her an angel. But this woman was no angel.

He wanted to throw Kane a questioning glance, but he couldn’t seem to pull his hungry gaze away from her.

She stopped a few feet away from his table, cocking her head prettily. “Mind if I join you?”

Her voice was warm silk, with rough edges that made it just the tiniest bit husky. It was deep for a woman, but completely feminine.

Kane was too discomfited by his reaction to her to be polite. He flipped a hand toward the chair across from his. He didn’t speak. Didn’t trust himself to.

The full, soft lips spread in a smile and her eyes sparked. She slid into the chair next to him, facing the bar.
A drink suddenly appeared in front of him and Rael jumped, looking up into Kane’s laughing face. “You’re always in stealth mode, man.”

Kane gave the siren sitting next to him some fruity looking concoction and winked at her. “Stealth has saved my life more than once, Rael. You of all people should know that.” Kane’s face briefly darkened with emotion.

Rael gave his friend an understanding look. He remembered all too well the times Kane referred to. Rael had met Kane in Germany in the 1940s, before he’d been turned. He’d been a brave and talented soldier, unfortunately he hadn’t been quick enough on his feet to avoid the creature who’d turned him.

Kane quickly shook off his sadness. “Rael, this is Bellona. Now you’re not strangers.” He turned on his heel and sauntered back to the bar, stopping to chat several times along the way.

Rael knew because he watched his friend rather than looking at the woman sitting beside him. He could feel her heat from two feet away. Her warm, sweet scent surrounded him.

The air between them fairly sizzled with tension. Sexual tension. It had been a long, long time since Rael had had to deal with sexual tension.

Tension of almost every other kind was his constant companion. But the fun kind of tension…not so much.
“I’m sensing resistance to my charms.”

When he looked at her she was grinning. It wasn’t the way he’d expected their conversation to start. But he figured it was as good a place as any. “Nothing personal. I don’t much like companionship.”

Incredibly, she laughed. Really laughed. So hard that tears ran from her gorgeous, green eyes.

He leaned back in his chair and watched her, not even bothering to hide the incredulity on his face. “You find that funny? Really?”

She nodded, swiped the back of one hand over her wet cheeks, and sipped her drink. “Mmm, this is good.”
Rael figured he’d steer them back to safe ground. “What is that anyway?”

“Fallen Angel.”

Rael spit beer across the table. She leaned back to avoid being spattered. “What?” His voice sounded choked. He turned and glared at Kane.

The vamp just laughed and saluted him.

“Very refreshing. I’ve decided I like fallen angels.”

He searched her face carefully. Was she teasing him? Impossible. She couldn’t know…Yup, there was definitely a spark in her green eyes. She knew.

“Look…Bella…”

“Bellona.”

“Bellona, I don’t know what Kane told you…”

“He didn’t tell me anything…directly. But I’m not stupid. Valkyrie are trained very early to determine the supernatural persuasion of our prey…”

Rael’s eyes widened. “Wait…valkyrie…prey?”

She took another sip of her drink. “Don’t worry, I’m off the clock. You wouldn’t fit my parameters anyway. In fact…that’s what I like about you.” Her pink tongue slid across her lips, mopping up the last little bit of the fruity concoction she’d swallowed.

Rael realized his mouth was hanging open and slammed it shut. He would not let himself get pulled into her sensual sphere. He’d never met a valkyrie, but he’d read about them. Warriors, every last one of them. Conscripted by the gods to transport heroes to the famed Valhalla in preparation for some big war. The valkyrie themselves had foreseen the death of said gods, and the gods had decreed that they would help them avoid the deaths the sisters had foreseen.

Personally, as a fallen angel, Rael knew all too well that some things couldn’t be avoided. If they could, he’d have avoided being branded a dark angel. And it would serve him well to remember how he’d fallen. He swallowed the last sip of his beer and stood up. “I won’t say it hasn’t been interesting, but…”

The floor beneath his feet rumbled and moved just a little. Across the room, the glasses and bottles behind the bar clanked together. Kane caught an antique beer stein before it hit the floor.

Rael fell back into his chair. He looked at Bellona. She was grinning. He wondered if she’d even noticed the small earthquake.

“I’d take that as a sign if I were you.” She told him a little smugly. “You should stay with me.”

He frowned. “No offense. You’re a beautiful woman, but around here earthquakes aren’t signs, they’re facts of life.”

Bellona shrugged. “Sometimes things aren’t what they seem, Rael the fallen angel.”

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ONE HOT AUSTRALIAN NIGHT by Liia Ann White

ONE HOT AUSTRALIAN NIGHT by Liia Ann White

A 1 Night Stand Story

When it comes to love, Zalia is a cynic. After her last boyfriend cheated on and dumped her on Valentine's Day; who can blame her? But after three years of her friend's pestering, she’s decided to get back in the dating game. She agrees to contact the reputable dating agency 1NightStand with the understanding that if it doesn't work, it’s a sign she's destined to be single.

After a month of no luck, Madame Evangeline finds what she believes is Zalia's perfect match.

Xavier is a hot successful lawyer. Two years after his wife's sudden death he wants to find love again, but doesn’t know how.

When they finally meet will sparks fly or will it be a failed attempt at happiness?

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~Excerpt~

“I’m twenty-eight years old, own my own home, run a very successful bookstore, and have an active life. I’m happy. Why do I need a man in my life?”

“I’m not saying you need a man.” Kara leaned against the front counter and regarded her. “I’m saying you need sex. All this pent up energy you have needs to be released. Sex is a great stress reliever.”

She tried to ignore Kara’s steely gaze as she passed her and sat behind the counter. “I’m not having this conversation with you again.”

“I’ve found this dating site.” Kara held up a hand to stop Zalia’s displeased groan. “I promise it’s not dodgy. A friend of my cousin’s used it and found her soul mate.”

“Oh, well, then it must be legit,” Zalia scoffed.

“Honestly, it is. The owner, Madame Evangeline, has a knack for bringing people together. She’s recently started taking clients in Australia. She gets your details, organizes a meeting, and you do the rest. Hint, hint.” Kara winked and slid a business card across the counter. “If she can’t help you, then we’ll take it as a sign, and I’ll let you grow old and live with a dozen cats. But if she does find you a match, you have to follow through.”

Zalia picked up the business card. 1NightStand and Madame Evangeline were printed in bold on the front. On the back was a web address. Nothing more. “This is the business card of a ‘legit’ dating service?”

Kara rolled her eyes and walked toward the front door. “Go to the website and fill out the form. If you don’t, I will. I’m going to the bank; I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Zalia spun the business card between her fingers and bit the inside of her lip hesitantly. Butterflies thudded in her stomach as she considered emailing this “Madame Evangeline”. After a few moments of contemplation, she flicked the computer monitor on and opened her email. One email—it couldn’t hurt, could it?

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DECADENT DECEPTIONS by Keta Diablo

DECADENT DECEPTIONS by Keta Diablo

*Molly Contest Finalist*

Desperate to win Morgan’s love, Olivia Breedlove embarks on a reckless folly. But everything backfires when Morgan remains one step ahead of her and the game ventures down a path of duplicity and murder.

A decade ago, Morgan was a heartbeat away from taking Olivia’s virginity. Her father, Thaddeus, intervened and threatened to meet him over pistols if he so much as looked at his daughter again. But now, Thaddeus is dead and Morgan has no intention of ignoring the ravenous hunger he’s harbored for the blasted woman for ten years.

One way or the other, he will quench this burning desire and make her his forever.

Special Content Alert: Voyeurism

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Excerpt:

Morgan had been so lost in thought he almost failed to see Olivia ducking into the mercantile across the street in town. Almost. Silently he thanked his lucky stars. He intended to have a drink prior to calling on Madame Rousseau, but now that fate had intervened and placed the Goddess of his breath in his path, he altered course. Pushing the door open amid a melodic chiming of bells, he searched for her down every aisle. Finally he found her among the bolts of fabric, her brow creased, her selective eyes glancing between the terra-cotta and its sibling cinnamon.

“Why don’t you purchase both?” he said from over her shoulder.

She turned and looked at him, her searching gaze a mixture of surprise, and dare he think, subtle delight?

“Morgan, what-whatever are you doing here?”

“I desired a drink and intended to follow it up with a visit to Immortelles.”

“Immortelles?” Her eyes widened and a blush rose in her cheeks. “You frequent the establishment in the middle of the afternoon?”

“Under a blue moon, in the afternoon, whenever the fancy strikes.”

“You’re incorrigible,” she said, her eyes sparking.

“You misunderstand me. I mean only to observe, not partake.”

Giving him the direct cut, she placed the fabrics back onto the shelf and said, “Good day to you, then.”

Denying her a chance to bolt, he grabbed her elbow, ushered her to the back of the store and backed her into a wall. With his hands at the sides of her head, palms flat against the hard surface, he said, “Join me.”

Bewilderment masked her features. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know you’re itching to return.”

A stillness fell over her.

“Why not with me?” It wasn’t easy to torment her while she looked at him with those green-spoked eyes, but he wanted to be near her, had an overwhelming urge to watch firsthand her sudden interest in carnal lust. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid,” he said..

His words effectuated the desired response. Her spine stiffened and her chin swept up. “You’re the one who should be afraid,” she said. “Especially since you can’t control, shall we say, a certain growing interest whenever a woman falls into your lap.”

Clearly a taunt, he wanted to toss her onto the floor, take her like a common camp follower and show her she’d also been affected when he pulled her onto his lap. Realizing such action would put an immediate halt to his pending suggestion, he gathered his wits.

Catching her chin in the firm grip of his hand, he pressed on. “Yes or no, do you have the courage?”

“You’re mad.” A half-laugh left her kissable lips. “People will see us; it’s broad daylight.”

“No, they won’t.” He pointed to the back door. “That leads to the alleyway, and one block away is another back door to the brothel. I assure you, not a soul will notice us slip out of here and arrive there.” She glanced around the room. “I double-dare you,” he said with emphasis.

“You’re certain no one will know?”

He crossed his heart, and without waiting for her to change her mind, led her through the back door and into the alleyway.

Arriving at Immortelles within minutes, he ushered her through the door and down the hall to a room. It had all happened so quickly, he had a hard time reconciling his plans were to speak with Madame first. Instead, he found himself about to enter a peep room with the woman who made his blood clot.

“Don’t tell me.” She paused at the door, her voice dripping sarcasm. “You have a standing appointment to voyeur? You walk into the brothel in the middle of the afternoon and go directly to a peep room?”

“I told you, I planned to call on Madame today, sent a missive this morning.” He pushed the door open. “It has all been prearranged.”

"You prearranged it?”

With a nod, he pointed to the chairs, about to offer a lame answer when she said, “How convenient, two peepholes.”

“Some adore having company while they engage in voyeurism.”

“I’m not one of them.” Her eyes narrowed. “In fact, I find it crass.”

“Pretend I’m not here.”

“How am to accomplish that with the holes mere inches apart?” She looked at the seating arrangement.

“And the chairs on top of one another?”

“Sit,” he said calmly, directing her into the plush cushion.

She shot him a lethal glare and he slumped into the chair, delighted with the layout. He eased himself down beside her with a smile―shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh. Perfect.

“Must you be breathing down my neck?” she asked, the familiar scent of tea roses and jasmine wafting over him.

“I can hardly enjoy the performance from the mezzanine.”

Morgan didn’t have time to answer before the door to the room opened and a man entered, a man he’d never seen before. Hundreds passed through the brothel monthly, in addition to the regulars. If women thought this particular John handsome, he was . . . in a rugged way. The rough-hewn features, textured skin and dark, wavy hair that fell unruly about the collar of his shirt lacked refinement. He cut a fine figure, however, with his wide shoulders and trim waist. Beneath the trousers, Morgan imagined strong, well-muscled legs.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Olivia, and, time cussed the betraying blood pumping to his shaft. That’s all it took, one look at her face or exquisite profile―the upturned nose, high cheekbones, long lashes and rose-petal lips―and the cursed member between his legs saluted the ceiling. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea. How in hell could he watch a man and a woman make love and not imagine—wish with all his heart—it was him and Liv?

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SMOKE AND MIRRORS by Michelle L. Levigne

SMOKE AND MIRRORS by Michele L. Levigne

~A Fae man with malfunctioning magic hides from matrimony in Las Vegas, disguised as a magician's assistant. A Half-Fae, female magician with secrets of her own.~

Alexi's malfunctioning magic made him a sitting duck when it came to husband-hunting Fae women. He knew he had to find a place where he could hide and make a living before he became completely bereft of magic, and ended up in Vegas, where his wonky magic wouldn't raise any eyebrows.

Megan was a Halfling Fae who made her living as a magician. She had enough magic to know Alexi was in deep trouble, and enough sense not to tell him she was a halfbreed. She took him on as her assistant because she thought they would both be safe with each other, and because he needed her help even more than she needed his.

Eventually, their working friendship turned to close friendship, partnership, looking out for each other. And then they realized they not only needed each other, but wanted each other.

However, there was Alexi's doomed magical heritage, and hungry Fae women caught in Need still on the prowl, and what chance did a halfbreed woman have against all that?


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Alexi spotted a pickpocket. The tiny, translucent sparkle of magic at work caught his attention more than the boy's long fingers delicately lifting wallets and slipping inside purses, robbing oblivious tourists blind while they snapped pictures. Alexi watched the boy for a few minutes, trying to decide if he was Fae on a larcenous lark, or a Halfling who didn't know his heritage. Unfortunately, there were hundreds of Halflings in the Human world who had magic, didn't know it, and didn't know they used it to make their lives a little easier.

Alexi saw a handful of people stop and watch the boy work, then grin and walk on by. Obviously, some residents of Vegas had a low regard for tourists. They deserve what they get seemed to be the prevalent attitude.

That irritated him, which in turn surprised him. It wasn't too long ago that he would have been enjoying the show, too. He supposed that being a fugitive and having to actually worry about material possessions for the first time in his life had changed his attitude.

Megan had changed him. Just yesterday, she caught a customer stealing tips from a table. Signaling Joey, who manned the spotlight, she jumped down off the stage and caught hold of the hand holding the stolen bills. She went into an impromptu spiel about tripling the man's money with magic, so it would seem like he had stolen it, and squeezed his wrist until he let go of the money. The waitress whose table it was returned at that moment, scooped up her tip, flashed Megan a grin and stepped on the man's foot with her spike heel before she left.

Alexi had nearly broken into applause, right there.

No, Megan would not approve of what this boy was doing, and Alexi had the sneaking suspicion she would not approve if he just let the boy get away.

I'm no knight in shining armor, he growled at his conscience. They died out centuries ago, and good riddance, always running around trying to break enchantments and kill friendly dragons.

Alexi snapped his fingers and skipped across the street in the blink of an eye, to reappear directly behind the pickpocket. The boy turned and tripped over Alexi, to sprawl across the sidewalk at the feet of the four casino owners. Another snap of his fingers made the boy's belt break, so his oversized pants slid down to his knees when he stood up again.

While he pulled the pickpocket to his feet and brushed him off, Alexi used the sleight-of-hand skills Megan drilled him in. He pulled wallets and jewelry, watches and cameras from the boy's pockets and his sweatshirt.

A crowd gathered around, so the boy couldn't have escaped, even if Alexi hadn't been standing on the cuff of his fallen pants. The four casino owners stopped and grinned. A woman let out a little shriek and snatched back the pink rhinestone-studded watch Alexi retrieved from the pickpocket's right sleeve.

"Who do you think you are, the Lone Ranger?" someone muttered.

Alexi didn't have time to respond, because the shouts from people who had discovered they had been robbed brought a police officer running. He wasn't above using a few flickers of magic to keep the attention of Albert and his three friends. He only influenced them to stay and watch, knowing Megan wouldn't approve if he took away their free will.

What was wrong with him, that her opinion meant so much to him? Especially when she would never know, because he would never tell her?

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LOVE'S BOUNTY by Nina Pierce

LOVE'S BOUNTY by Nina Pierce

Tilling Passions Book 2

A woman determined to protect her heart...

Landscaping in Delmont, Maine hasn't been DEIRDRE TILLING's only passion. Up until two months ago, it had included a live-in lover. Jilted for the third time in as many years, Deirdre's decided to give up on love. With her feet firmly planted on the path of one night stands, she finds herself heating up the sheets with a dark haired stranger she met at her new employer's party. But one night with the man who is both sexy as hell and compassionate, may not be enough.

An agent hell bent on proving himself...

DEA agent, AYDEN SCOTT, has a lot to prove after a disastrous drug bust in Miami three years earlier that left a member of his team dead. Working undercover as lead investigator, he's determined to bring down an elusive drug cartel smuggling heroin into central Maine. He'll use any means necessary to complete his objective, including sleeping with the suspected drug Lord's landscaper, Deirdre. He just hadn't expected the feisty redhead to be so much more than long legs and dangerous curves.

One night neither of them can forget...

Deirdre and Ayden both thought one sexually explosive romp in the sack would be the end of their relationship. But Deirdre's arrest for heroin possession and her father's near-fatal heart attack prompts Ayden to confess his true identity. When Deirdre is kidnapped by the drug cartel and used as a pawn, Ayden is forced to choose between his heart and his mission. The question is...who will survive his decision?

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Excerpt:

The condo they entered was utilitarian, the living room furniture leather and heavy wood and very masculine. The whole first floor was visible from the front door where she stood frozen, too flustered by her own audacity to move. Austin closed the door and stepped around her, heading to the other side of the condo and into the small kitchen area.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He ducked his head into the fridge, his jeans pulling snug across a nicely curved ass. "I don't have much. Coffee. Water. Wine." He stood up and looked at her. She almost giggled at the way he tilted his head to one side, sort of that lost puppy, take-me-home kind of look. His blue eyes mirrored her confusion.

"Deirdre, can I get you anything?"

Yeah, those luscious lips between my thighs. Deirdre shook her head. Coffee. She was here for a cup of coffee before she drove home. Nothing more. But her body was screaming for something else.

"Wine sounds nice."

"A New York Riesling or an Australian Pinot Noir?" Austin held up two bottles.

No, just coffee. She couldn't drive home with more alcohol in her system. It was rutting season and even this late at night the moose would be on the move. Her little Toyota truck was no match for one of those behemoths. "Whichever one is white," she said, wondering why she was letting her body make all the decisions.

Deirdre walked over to the stereo system, perusing the CDs haphazardly strewn about on the receiver. It was the only thing out of place in his condo.

"I have Mozart and Def Leopard and everything in between. Choose your poison." Austin's voice washed over her shoulder as he stepped up behind her. She could feel the heat of his chest against her back. Not the soft, round, plump feeling of a woman, but the steel power of a man. Heat shot through her veins, hitching her breath and pressing her nipples against her lace bra.

She took the glass he offered, moving to the couch and away from the intoxicating scent of his spicy cologne.

"Something quiet." she said. "After the loud bands at the party, it would be nice." Actually, she needed something to soothe her pulsing nerves. "You live here long?" Deirdre sipped the wine, grateful Austin's attention on the stereo kept him from seeing her shaking hand. What was she doing here?

"A few months. I have some business up and down the coast. When it's over I'll head back to Boston." He turned and lifted his glass of ice water. "Here's to enjoying the beautiful Maine autumn."

"You're not drinking?"

"Too many wild nights. I'm giving my liver a rest."

The quiet strains of piano music filled the room. She recognized the artist as one of her father's favorites. Immediately, her brooding thoughts turned to her family.

There had been so many nights in the last few months she'd sat with her father in the quiet of their home in town. She and her two sisters rotated nights, giving their mother a short reprieve from the hopelessness of growing old. Deidre couldn't count the number of times she'd played the CDs, hoping to give him strength and courage in the memory of who he once was. But it seemed he'd given up on life. Now, they all watched as his body withered its way to death.

"…Deirdre, yoo-hoo, you okay?" Austin was bent over, intently staring into her eyes, only inches from her nose.

"Sorry, Austin. Drifted off for a moment. What were you saying?"

"I was talking about my consulting firm, but obviously that put you to sleep." He sat on the leather couch, lacing his fingers through hers, pulling her down next to him. "Sit. Enjoy the wine and the music."

Though Deirdre had had only two one-night stands in her lifetime, one in college, and of course, Bobby, she could distinguish genuine interest from lust. It was concern she saw in the cobalt pools of Austin's eyes and the gentle curve of his mouth. She leaned against him seeking solace in the solid feeling of his body.

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DOUBLING ON DENISE by Cheryl Dragon

DOUBLING ON DENISE by Cheryl Dragon

Book 4 in the Raider's Bodyguard Service Series

An ex who won't let go is a real nightmare for Denise. When he gets out of jail on a technicality, she turns once again to the only men who can protect her and know her secret desire for BDSM.

The Temple brothers are two of Raider's finest bodyguards and had a perfect record until Denise fired them a year ago.

Now she's back and begging for help. Little does she know how well they understand her submissive side and how long they've wanted to show her the safe and proper way to serve her true Masters.

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Excerpt:

A cell phone ringing in the middle of the night was nothing new for Jack Temple. He woke and answered it in a haze that quickly lifted though it was five in the morning. Adrenaline took over as Jack listened then ended the call with Mr. Raider, his boss. The man was to the point, as always, and the new assignment wasn’t one to be accepted or rejected. It had to be done immediately; Jack and his brother, Zach, were the only ones for it.

Not that Jack wanted to reject a case with the gorgeous Denise Edington. Zach might not see it the same way, but the brothers didn’t always take the same view. It made them a good team in many ways.

Jack walked across the hall to his brother’s room and knocked. Opening the door, Jack ducked. Zach was a grumpy sleeper. A shoe flew over Jack’s head. They were fraternal twins on different ends of the spectrum in personality, but both proved excellent bodyguards.

“What?” Zach growled.

Jack flopped on the bed. “We’ve got a job. Guess who?”

“Who cares? It’s a job. I’ll get ready. Time for breakfast?” Zach asked.

“No. It’s local, but we need to relieve a team at six. You want to know who it is.” Jack grinned. As different as they were, they agreed on the big things including women. Not many would understand their connection, but Denise might. She was the one who’d gotten away and unique in her own right. Not many women wanted to get away from them. It only made the brothers want her more.

“Then who is it?” Zach clutched his pillow.

“Denise.”

Zach’s head lifted. “What the hell? Why? She didn’t fall in with another asshole Master wanna be, did she?”

“No, the old one got out of jail. Carl is a free man.”

Zach opened his eyes fully. “Out? He broke out or they let him go?” He rolled from bed and stretched.

“The system worked the wrong way. Some high-priced lawyers found a technicality and a judge who bought it. So he’s out. Denise’s filthy rich uncle is all over Raider’s and he pays enough to keep the company on retainer to protect his family. Denise is just scared.” Jack wanted to throw on jeans and go now. He’d never even kissed Denise, but he and Zach both knew she was supposed to be theirs. She had a Raider team with her right now, setting up a perimeter to watch the house from outside as well. No chances were taken when it came to Carl.

“Why us? She fired us last time. Old Mr. Raider might be forgetting things,” Zach laughed.

“Not likely. She requested us.” Jack watched Zach’s smile widened. The rush of power spread. Denise was untrained and had fallen in with the wrong crowd. But she was a natural sub and needed them. Her trust fund and rich family gave her a princess complex, but really, she wanted to please. They’d seen through her and had called her on it—for her own safety, of course. A stalker ex was one thing. A stalker Master was another. But Carl was worse than both.

“Requested us? We were blacklisted by the Edington family.” Zach shook his head. “She’d have no clue we were the ones who forced a confession from the goons Carl hired to kidnap her. Why us?”

Jack nodded. “The secret is still safe. I’m guessing she realized we’re good for this particular problem, and we didn’t out her.” Denise had tried to break up with Carl when he’d gotten too rough at a club, and Carl had tried to woo her back. The family had suspected he was after the money. “They don’t need to know about her sexual preferences. They want her safe along with their fortunes. But what Carl had planned for her was worse than any club. I don’t want her to know.”

“I agree. We stopped it. I can’t believe attempted kidnapping and assault with extortion wasn’t enough to keep him in jail. Carl sent a ransom note before the goons he hired tried to take her.” Zach pulled out a set of fresh clothes.

They both knew what had gone down, but getting inside a criminal’s mind to anticipate his moves would take both of their perceptions working together. Carl was mean enough for anything. Denise needed them fully prepped. “Carl is still desperate to hold onto her. The Master thing was all an act, and he used it to seduce her. The power went to his head.” Jack checked the clock. He needed to get in the shower.

“She’s never been trained or belonged to a club. She’s not that type,” Zach growled. “At least, we brought down the kidnapping and human trafficking ring. Sex slaves, selling subs to strangers. It’s sick.” Zach punched a pillow.

“It was a hell pit. We can’t tell her what they had planned.” Jack loved Denise’s innocence. She might be one of the rich and fabulous in Los Angeles, but her family protected her. Her naughty, wild side had been mostly fantasy until Carl. She didn’t need to know he’d planned to let strangers humiliate and torture her into obedience until he’d gotten the ransom. Then they might have sold her for all they knew.

“She’s stronger than you think. Fired our asses for asking the right questions about Carl. Like we’d out her secrets. Mr. Edington, your niece is a lovely blonde with curves for days, and she loves submissive sex play.”

“Carl was still in her head. She dumped him and ran home but still didn’t want to get him in trouble. Anyone can call themselves a Master and play with people.” The brothers had learned their skills at a local club for the training and connections but had never gotten into the voyeur scene. They preferred to be at home in private for play. Two masters could scare off some subs, though some loved it, but the men had kept searching for the right one.

Until Denise. She was the one they agreed on. She’d be permanent if they could just get her. Even having each other wasn’t always a given. The system had yanked them apart at will. He couldn’t think about the future too much. Now, he needed to think about Denise’s safety.

Jack got off the bed. “I’ll hit the shower. We can drive through and get coffee on the way.”

“Hey,” Zach said.

Jack turned. “What?”

“This is it. If she’s open to having us, we need to make our move.”

“We have to protect her first. She might be scared away from the life thanks to Carl.” Jack couldn’t handle losing her again, but moving too fast was dangerous with an untrained sub.

“We’ll give her what she needs and really wants. The right way.” Zach grinned. “What? She doesn’t have some creepy new boyfriend, does she?”

“No, still single and trying to put her life back together from the info I’ve gotten, but she keeps secrets. Being a rich California girl is hard work. Raider’s said the family feels she was back to her old self in the last few months, and now this. They’re pissed. No, I’m not sure we should push her.” Jack headed to the bathroom.

Starting the shower, he took a deep breath and stepped into the shower. Zach was pushy and could be rough, while Jack had more finesse and patience. But with Denise, it was different. She wasn’t a trained sub eager to please and prove herself. They needed to draw her out and do it carefully.

Zach had consulted with their Master friends on the topic over the last six months, always so confident that Denise would be theirs and come back to them. Jack had to admit, his brother was right. Denise didn’t have to request them now. It was a good sign. Jack just couldn’t get ahead of himself.

Stepping out of the shower, he forced himself into a professional mode as he toweled off. Denise was a client. If Jack got his hopes up too high, he’d lose focus. Hell, he’d suffered enough pain and loss in his life that it didn’t scare him. His parents, his grandmother, even Zach at times once they were in foster care. They could live without Denise if they had to; endurance was something they’d built up. Their career was one place Jack went above and beyond and would never screw up. They’d succeeded and it paid the bills. But they wanted Denise. Jack believed she was their reward for a hard childhood. If the chance came, they’d take it.

The mental pep talk worked for Jack. His love and fear for Denise remained buried deep down. Zach couldn’t contain himself as well as Jack and jumped into things without a care in the world. It worried Jack sometimes that his brother could be so all or nothing.

With Denise, Zach had hit a new level. A new fixation. Jack shared it, but Zach was convinced Denise belonged to them already, as if it were fate.

In the club circle, multiple subs for one Master were common, but two Masters for one sub was strange. Jack would never be harsh enough to please or push a sub and Zach could go full tilt into a fantasy and not read subtle reactions. They were a balanced pair. When they’d try to go solo or played with two girls, it was never as good. Dom brothers sharing a sub got questions in the club circles. This worked for them. But would Denise go for it? Be up to satisfying them both?

Denise might think they’re freaks. As a Dom, it didn’t matter to Jack so long as she tried it and loved them. All their needs could be met if they stayed open. No doubt they would be better for her than Carl.

The fear lingered in Jack. If Denise had been completely turned off of Dom/sub sex play because of Carl, they had to respect her limits. She might not be ready, or she might have rejected it as evil. If she’d seen the pit she could’ve ended up in, he wouldn’t blame her for never letting anyone dominate her again. Not sexually, not playfully, not anything. The line between a new level of ecstasy and going too far was easily trampled by a bad Master. She’d picked very wrong the first time. Had Carl turned her off forever? With Carl free, there was no answer to that question yet.

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RAGGED EDGE by Sara Brookes

RAGGED EDGE by Sara Brookes

Dalton is no stranger to hitting rock bottom. He's worked hard to turn his life around. Now he has a quiet life, a successful business and a no-strings-attached arrangement for sex with Kincade. Everything is just as it should be. Then a late-night rendezvous is interrupted by a sexy newcomer, and Dalton realizes something is missing.

Caught up in the intense passion the men share, Erin doesn't know whether to run or get between their hard bodies. She's convinced her attraction is wrong. However, a little persuasion from both Dalton and Cade convinces her she belongs with and between them.

Erin's surrender becomes Dalton's reawakening. A BDSM master, Dalton is in his element commanding his lovers, and soon the threesome fills their nights with mind-blowing pleasure. But when a piece of Dalton's past resurfaces, it threatens the very foundation he's built...and could put him back at the bottom.

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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: RAGGED EDGE

Copyright © SARA BROOKES, 2011

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

Chapter One



Dalton was damaged goods.

He’d been broken down and built up again, only to have the world crumble around his feet. Defeated, those ruins of his life had been ignored because he had felt no desire to deal with them. In salvation mode, he’d shut himself away from everything.

A loner and resident bad boy, Dalton Shaw sought solace in no one.

The wind howled as his bike sped down the road to his shop, his carefree attitude evident in his driving. He pushed the bike well over the posted speed limit. This late at night, there weren’t many school children to watch out for.

It had been an interesting evening. A local graphics designer he’d hired to redesign the logo for his bike shop missed the appointment. Things came up, he understood that. But he also appreciated the value of someone’s word. If someone said they’d be somewhere at a certain time, in Dalton’s eyes, they were there.

He’d waited around for two hours, far longer than decorum dictated, and had given up around nine-thirty when his stomach started to protest. Luckily Sally, the sweet elderly waitress at the diner in town, saw herself as a mother figure. She never let him go hungry, no matter the hour. After a hard day of work finishing off the bike he’d spent the past month restoring, it had been a nice break to sit and chat with her.

The late hour comforted him, as he always flourished in the dark, but now he was growing tired and the road blurred in front of his eyes. He shifted gears and noticed the flashing lights bouncing off the trees around him.

A quick glimpse in the side mirror confirmed his suspicions. “Shit.”

Annoyed, he pulled his motorcycle to the shoulder and pushed his foot down on the kickstand to balance the massive bike under him.

Dalton’s fingers tapped out an uneven rhythm of impatience against the gas tank as he waited. He was no stranger to the law in this town, mostly because he spent enough time doing what he could to skirt it. His actions never bothered anyone and no one seemed to take issue if he chose to gamble with his life.

Well, except one person.

The brittle crunch of rocks underfoot caused Dalton to turn to the officer as he approached.

Sheriff Kincade Roberts hooked his thumbs over a large metal belt buckle as he rested his weight on his back foot. Dalton nearly snorted at the posturing. “Is there a problem, Sheriff?”

“You do know we have a helmet law, Mr. Shaw.”

Dalton couldn’t hold back and did snort at the tone of the sheriff’s voice. “Yeah. Obviously you see how much I care. It’s the middle of the night. Not as if there’s a highway full of cars around that I have to worry about.”

The tall man reached up, slid off his hat and brushed a hand over his short reddish-brown hair. “Laws don’t care about the time of day.”

Dalton reached forward and clamped his hand over the handlebar despite the fact it earned him a stern look. “Christ, Roberts, give it a fucking rest. Give me the ticket, go home and take that stick out of your ass.”

Cade shifted again, his posture reflective of the attitude change in his suspect. “Do we have a problem here, Mr. Shaw?”

“Yeah, we do. I’m being stopped by some prick with a badge who thinks he can throw his weight around because he’s on the other side of the law. That new power of yours has gone to your head.”

“If that’s how you feel about it, shall we take this downtown?”

“There is no downtown in this God-forsaken place. Blow the attitude out of your ass.” The motorcycle came to life under Dalton as he pulled away in a spray of rocks. He sped through the gears without care for the damage incurred on the bike. It could be fixed later. Right now, he was too annoyed to care and wanted to put distance between him and the town law.

He wasn’t surprised to see flashing lights behind him as he accelerated. If the new sheriff wanted a high-speed chase, he’d get one. The bike vibrated, the engine purring fast and smooth as it sped down the narrow country road. He shifted gears and the bike roared under him as it leapt forward. Without a helmet, the wind whipped around him and stung his eyes so they watered.

This freedom was his element.

The engine cut off completely when he thumbed the choke and let the speed he’d gathered carry the bike directly into the bay of his shop, Iron Cruisers. As the sheriff pulled into the dirt lot, Dalton smirked and tapped the control to slowly lower the heavy bay door.

The last thing he saw was Cade’s narrowed green eyes. Dalton nearly flipped the sheriff off, but that would be pushing it a little too far and he was already walking a very fine line. While he enjoyed pushing the limits of the law, even he knew there was a line you just didn’t cross.

As he swung his leg to dismount the bike, the side door burst open and the sheriff barreled through. The look on his face was priceless and Dalton grinned in satisfaction.

“You have a real attitude problem, Shaw.” The soft, lazy drawl of the South did nothing to smooth out the rigid authority of the sheriff’s voice.

Dalton shrugged and stood, easily towering several inches over the man in front of him. Cade was tall but lean and almost lanky in contrast to Dalton’s bulk. “Of course I do. Remember, I live just to piss people off. Think I’ve just raised the bar for next time, though.”

“Fine, you’re under arrest for reckless driving and willful endangerment.”

The sheriff stepped forward, clamped his hand around Dalton’s biceps and pulled hard to throw him off balance. Dalton anticipated the move, however, and compensated to flip their positions. Cade stumbled, hitting the bike hard enough to give a grunt of protest.

Dalton moved before the sheriff could stand upright and pushed his body firmly against the hunched man. “So, Sheriff, it seems as if you’re proficient in issuing orders. But I wonder, how versed are you in taking them.” His hand worked between the man and the bike so he could flip the buttons open on the crisply pressed shirt. Cade’s breath hitched as Dalton stripped the fabric back. He let the material gather at the elbows and brought the two halves together to trap Cade’s arms behind him.

The sight of all those straining muscles made Dalton want to lean forward and slide his tongue over the surface of that rock-hard skin. He refrained, but leaned in closer and savored the feel of the man’s firm back against his chest, drank in the sweet cedarwood scent of his aftershave.

“I’ve never had a sheriff before.”

“So you just want to add me to your count. Put another notch on that belt.” There was tension in those words and Dalton’s body sang in response.

“You know very well I don’t use a belt. My hand works just fine.” That same hand glided over the fabric covering Cade’s ass. “When I open tomorrow, what do you think my customers will think when they walk in here and smell the scent of your come all over my workbench?

“I personally like the idea. It would remind me how much the new sheriff couldn’t control himself with a suspect. It may even give me more ideas about finding out just how much that particular sheriff can take. I haven’t put my skills to use in quite some time. I think I’d like to see if I’m still as proficient as I once was.”

Cade’s voice rumbled when Dalton pushed at the front of his pants, forcing his hand all the way down to the base of the man’s cock. Dalton squeezed tightly, perhaps more tightly than the situation called for. He gloated at the feel of the rock-hard state of the sheriff’s erection. Normally Dalton liked to work for it a little more, but tonight was special.

“Fuck.” Cade let out a shaky breath indicative of something other than discomfort.

“Later.” Dalton moved his hand and proceeded to cross the line to show Cade this was no longer just an amusing game. “Right now, you’re going to put that mouth of yours to better use. On your knees.”

He flipped their positions and leaned against his bike as he waited for Cade to comply. When Cade continued to stand there, Dalton decided he needed some incentive and used his free hand to strip open his jeans. Cade’s eyes burned with need as Dalton lifted the hard length of himself free.

That heat poured into Dalton, causing a slow burn at the base of his spine that reflected the need to come. But not yet, it was too soon. They were celebrating Cade’s recent election to sheriff and Dalton wasn’t about to blow it all in a few seconds like some hormonal teenager experimenting in his parent’s basement.

“On your knees,” Dalton repeated again, using more force this time.

Cade sank to the floor, leaning forward as he followed the command. The flat of his tongue slid across the crown of Dalton’s cock and the sheriff clearly crossed a few lines of his own.

* * * * *

Erin Corvus sighed as she worked through the gears on her aging sports car. She didn’t expect Dalton would still be at the shop right now, but she’d feel better if she dropped off the sketches she’d put together. That way they would be there waiting for him when he arrived the next morning.

She shifted again to navigate a tight turn and thought about how Collington Creek was a virtual ghost town this late at night. The small town was situated an hour north of Atlanta, Georgia. With a population of less than seven thousand residents, it wasn’t the sort of place locals had to worry about traffic jams. Of course, most of the town’s population was tucked away in their beds watching late-night talk shows while she sped toward the Iron Cruisers shop.

They were the smart ones.

Long hours were part of the job. Blackbird Design, her graphic-design company, was her livelihood and she had to do everything in her power to ensure its success. Even if that achievement meant she had to work into the wee hours of the morning to finish a job. Her business was only as good as the hours she put in.

She meant to be at the appointment hours ago. Her need for perfection with one of her designs caused her, yet again, to ensure everything was just as it should be.

The motorcycle shop came into view faster than anticipated and she parked in the empty slot next to the sheriff’s vehicle in front of the bay door. Odd for a motorcycle shop to repair a car, but many residents of the town seemed to multi-task when it came time to help each other out.

She’d even done some web designs for a local business or two in order to make money on the side. Maybe Mr. Shaw worked out a deal with the town government and he did all the repairs on city vehicles. Of course, the new sheriff had already made a name for himself with his unconventional ways to save the town money, so it wasn’t completely out of the question.

Now that would be a sweet contract to land, she thought as she shut the car door. She’d love to have a shot at redesigning the town seal in an effort to reflect the history of the area and draw in even more tourists. But if she continued to miss important client appointments, she’d be lucky to design a logo for the historic stockade that stood in the town square.

The shop was simple, as were most things in town, and nondescript with its faded wood siding. Small with only one bay instead of the row of work areas like the shops she was used to back home in Texas, the building before her screamed rural living. An assortment of aging tin signs, which added to the antique air of the business, hung in various locations on the front of the property.

In fact the owner, Dalton Shaw, specialized in restoring late-model motorcycles. It had been one of the things he’d insisted on when they’d spoken on the phone. Somewhere in her design there needed to be an antique bike. She’d done just as he requested, several times over, and hoped he liked the designs she’d come up with.

As she started to set the large black leather case used to transport sketches in front of the shop’s door, she spotted a gap. That trusting nature of locals to unlock doors and even leave keys in ignitions had taken her a bit to get used to. Back in Austin, any property left sitting around unguarded asked to be stolen.

Curious, she pushed open the heavy entrance door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Her question was met with silence, not that she really expected anyone to answer her—not at this time of night. But this was the only address she had for him, and she wanted to be sure he had something to look at when she called tomorrow morning to apologize.

However, that curiosity earned her more than she bargained for.

Her eyes went wide in surprise as she stepped closer and saw someone leaning against the motorcycle in the center of the shop floor. The friendly greeting died in her throat as she realized that someone wasn’t alone. The light in the bay was low, but it was enough for her to make out two figures.

A late-night lovers rendezvous.

Now she understood why the sheriff’s car was parked outside. He was on his knees in front of the man.

If that wasn’t enough indication of the man’s identity, she also recognized the tan uniform shirt stripped back to his elbows. He also still wore the matching dark brown pants and spit-shine chloroform shoes.

Someone had been in a hurry.


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LUMINOUS NIGHTS by Michele Hart

LUMINOUS NIGHTS by Michele Hart

Cop or convict?

How many faces can one man own?

An assassin wearing a holographic mask and a prison tattoo boards Rachel's freighter during a prison riot. He is intent on recovering gadgets, which are capable of changing a man’s identity, from the black-market gang who'd stolen them. She’s not sure of Jack's identity nor his goal, but he claims to be an Alliance I-Marshal. Cop or convict? The clues never stop contradicting. Rachel's horrified to find that the bright holographic mask conceals the gruesome face of a monster. And the badge doesn’t stop him from murdering people right before her eyes.

When Rachel learns Jack will trade innocent lives for the digital miracles, she's determined to make the mercenary grow a heart. How could a stone-cold killer kiss her so hotly? How could she kiss such a dangerous deceiver?

Jack has done years in prison to learn who’d stolen the remaining Gemini ticks, 3-D magic. Nothing will keep him from gaining extreme-technology, capable of unleashing galaxy-wide chaos. Forget feelings for Rachel. She can’t stop him from killing everyone involved.

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Luminous Nights by Michele Hart



[This excerpt is rated R for violence, language, and sexual reference. All the good stuff. :-) ]

The Whip

Spun around in her bindings tied above her head, Rachel focused on Jack observing his former cellmates shooting dice near the hall’s great hearth. The traitor. It was like he hardly noticed her strung up for a lashing, his prison buddies looking forward to her vicious flogging. Heartlessly calm and detached, he intermittently checked the currently inactive scene of her soon torture, not very interested.

“Jack…” she called out to him. He cast a lazy look her way.

“If Quattro beats me, you can’t use me the way you want to in the mountains.”

“What makes you think stripes on your back would stop me?”

God, she hoped Jack was bluffing. She really couldn’t tell if he was a good guy or bad guy. Was it okay with him to assault her in the woods while she was wounded? She shivered.

Jack rose from his table, abandoning his meal. His sight burned into hers, risk in his holographic sky-blue eyes. A low-grade anxiety pulsed through her. He sashayed over to where Quattro had left the whip on the floor behind her.

“You want to see her punished, Quattro?” Jack brushed the dust from his hands.

“I insist upon it,” the mobster replied.

“Do you want her frightened?” Jack picked the whip up, suddenly too attracted to it.

Quattro’s gross grin rose. “I want to hear her shriek in terror and fear me, you, and every man here.”

Rachel was well on her way to all that. She feared every sadistic criminal in the room, but Jack. And he was fixing that right now. She watched him pull the lash through his hand as if he appreciated the braid…or measured it. Others took notice. He took another step back, nonchalantly taking a position. Her heart pumped harder, and her breath quickened. She stiffened to keep from shaking. He wasn’t going to do it, was he…going to beat her?

“Hold still, Rachel…” he said low, getting a feel for the grip. She mashed herself against the wall in dread of the lash.

Then Jack reared back and struck. The whip loudly snapped so close to her back, she felt the ripple in the air through the thin cotton of her techsuit A shock shot through her body, and she shrieked. But she hadn’t felt the whip dig into her flesh.

“You bastard!” she shouted at him, awaiting the agony and so fearful of the pain, she nearly wept. “I swear to God, I’ll find a way to kill you for this!”

Her terror thrilled Quattro so much, he applauded.

“You’re a passivist, Rachel Marie,” Jack berated her. “You can’t kill a thing.”

She couldn’t yet feel the pain, though she didn’t think the hall cold enough to truly numb her from the agony of a lash. She opened her eyes and watched Jack’s audience grow. Where was the pain?

Jack reared back with the whip again. Rachel pinched her eyes shut and screamed in terror again, certain he wouldn’t miss a second time. The strike ripped the material of the techsuit down her back. Except for blood-curdling horror and a puff of slapped air, she felt no physical pain or even any contact. The second strike caused the audience to cheer.

A third strike still brought out her terrified cry and more of Quattro’s acclamation. The leather braid never met her back. Of course, it didn’t. Jack hadn’t missed a shot since he was twelve. If he missed the shot, it was because he meant to miss.

Bets started going down to see how many stripes she’d last.

Jack halted the entertainment cold, staring at them. She didn’t know what he was thinking. She wondered if he thought them vacant, psychotic souls, if he wanted to burn their hearts out with the laser gun strapped to his thigh. He broke away from some tormenting theme of thought, and began to roll the whip. Thinking the bloodsport over too early, the crowd found other things to distract them, their breakfasts, games of dice.

“Quattro,” Jack bothered to finally say something as he coiled the whip and tied it, “beating her for an audience of your enemies isn’t such a good move, though I’m sure it would conjure a wicked orgasm for you and your men. If you torture her before your enemy, she becomes a hero. If you kill her, she becomes a martyr. Heroes and martyrs fuel rebellion. You may start a fire you can’t contain.”

Rachel caught up with her racing breath. The panic attack slowly eased. The sweat risen from her body in fear of supersized agony made her colder.

“You got the fear and loathing from her you wanted, the juicy fear and loathing,” Jack told him, “so let my property go.”

Realizing Jack hadn’t beaten her at all when her back wasn’t bleeding, Quattro was stopped cold by a thought. The hovercraft the gangster sat upon gave a spit. “You can’t possibly think I should let the insolent bitch go without a serious blooding, do you?”

“You should care more that your beds aren’t razed by blue armies. You’re done with her.”

“Your first fuck in the free worlds hasn’t softened your black heart, has it?”

Jack rolled stunning, digitally perfect blue eyes.

“For as many men as I’ve seen you kill behind bars," Quattro growled, "you’re not much of a woman beater. You’re already softer than you were in prison.”

Jack paused. Quattro hit a raw nerve. Rachel wished she knew her savior's thoughts.

“I have more control than you,” Jack told him with a dead-eyed stare, his finger in the gangster’s face. “Don’t mistake that for weakness. I have control of every thing in this room.”

The statement shut Quattro’s foul drunken mouth.

“You’re very reckless today.” Jack passed him the whip.

“She’s not getting any more punishment than she just got. If I allow you to beat her, she’ll never survive the mountains with me for my purpose. She pilots the only ship around capable of traveling the wormhole in one piece. Leave her correction to me. I’ll make her want to die. Release my property, now that you’ve gotten your rocks off seeing her terrorized. That’s all you required.”

“I hope she cuts your throat in the middle of the night.”

“If you couldn’t get the job done after five years of trying, she can’t.”

“You sleep with your eyes open.”

Rachel watched Jack. He was magical. He knew just what to say to make Quattro do his bidding, the cold timing required, and the guts and confidence to pull it off, not to mention his dead-on aim. He was impressive.

***

Later, she had to know…

“What were you thinking when you were staging my beating and watching your audience thrill to the show?”

Jack surveyed the western mountains with the binoculars, and then the sea line. Rachel considered he might not answer the question until he replied, “I was thinking of how I wanted to kill all the sick degenerates for getting off on a weaker creature’s fear and pain.”

At the time, he looked like murder was on his mind.

Maybe that's what happens to a good man’s soul when he serves time in Hell He becomes the cold executioner.

How would she stop this avenging angel’s killing spree?

***

Don’t stop!

Read the First Chapter:

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Read hot excerpts packed with peril, check out awesome reviews, watch a kick-ass book trailer:

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Luminous Nights by Michele Hart

http://www.BookStrand.com/luminous-nights

ISBN#: e-book 1-60601-884-1 * Print 1-60601-885-X

Available @ Amazon Books, Barnes & Noble, nearly everywhere!


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ANGEL'S WOLF by Rebecca Royce

ANGEL'S WOLF by Rebecca Royce

The Westervelt Wolves Book 6

Angel Kane has always known who her family was and why she was hidden away from them in New Orleans. Now on the run, the last thing she wants is anything that could potentially get in the way of the plan she's made for herself. That is, until she walks into a truck stop in New Jersey and encounters Parker Liberty -  the wolf fate has picked out to be her perfect mate.

Parker Liberty hasn't uttered a word in almost forty years. Not since the horrible day he watched his father murder his mother on the island of Westervelt. He ignores his inner wolf and contents himself with expressing his inner emotions through his tattoos. But when a pair of witches almost kill Angel, he will return to Westervelt to save her.

Meanwhile, Westervelt is under constant attack from Kendrick Kane, the pack's former Alpha, whose evil knows no bounds. His ultimate goal is to see all of his children dead  - and that includes his daughter, Angel. It is questionable whether the Westervelt pack can even survive the week. Angel and Parker's arrival will either turn the tide of the war or end the pack forever.

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Chapter One


Angel Kane had seen enough male shifters begging to be her mate to last a lifetime. Sitting down at the truck stop diner, surrounded by the sounds of the highway outside, she ran a hand through her dark-as-night black hair and wondered if she had finally lost them.

Julian Vincent and Houston Darvill were the most persistent of the pain-in-the-ass men she had encountered lately. They’d been chasing her since she left New Orleans two weeks earlier. She’d thought she’d lost them when she got to Maryland but she’d been wrong. They’d shown up two days later, much to her chagrin.

So she’d run. Again.

You don’t have to run. I told you. We can take them. All of them. Easily.

Angel signaled to the waitress that she wanted coffee before sinking further into her seat and tried to ignore the smell of grease wafting from the kitchen. Her wolf was always so sure of herself, so capable, so completely confident that they could kick the butt of anyone who threatened them.

But Angel had seen enough violence to last a lifetime. She shivered at the thought. After her pack leader’s death, her wolf pack had dissolved into near chaos. The wolves had run amok through the streets of New Orleans, causing havoc everywhere they went, particularly to the women. A wolf pack was supposed to be a safe place for females, but that wasn’t the case when the guys got to simply pick you out and pronounce you their mate whether you or your wolf wanted them at all.

Then again, it sounded like the New Orleans pack was a walk in the park compared to what happened in her native pack on Westervelt Island when she’d been a baby. They’d butchered all their women, including her mother, who had barely managed to send her off to New Orleans for safekeeping before she’d been killed. Even though Angel had recently found out that she had brothers on Westervelt, she didn’t dare go there and find them for help.

No, that would be like exchanging one bad situation for another one. The answer wasn’t just no, it was hell no.

“What can I get you?”

Angel smiled at the waitress. She was a fifty-something woman who wore her bottle-blonde hair in a high ponytail. It wasn’t a good look for her since it made her dyed roots much more evident than they would otherwise be.

Her wolf sat up in rapt attention. Should we make her feel good?

Angel hadn’t used her powers since they’d gone on the run. She’d been terrified to. What if it brought Houston and Julian right to her side? Still, not using them hadn’t exactly kept them away.

Sounds good.

Placing her fingers lightly on the waitress’ white apron, so gently no one would notice, she smiled as she sent her power into the nice lady serving her.

“I’d like a ham and cheese sandwich, please. No french fries, but I will take the coleslaw and maybe you better make it a pot of coffee instead of just one cup.”

It was a multi-cup-of-coffee day. There was no question.

“Oh.” The waitress smiled and swayed slightly on her feet. It was okay, that was a perfectly natural reaction to Angel’s use of power on a human. She’d be okay in a second. “I’m sorry, for a second I was a little bit dizzy but now—oh wow, I feel fantastic. I feel like I could fly to the moon if I needed to and—oh—I don’t want to wear my hair this way anymore. I think I’m going to go back to my natural brown or, better yet, maybe I’ll let myself show the grey. It would look very chic on me.” The woman closed her mouth abruptly. “I’m so sorry. I’m talking your ear off. I have no idea what has come over me.”

“You’re fine.” Angel couldn’t help grinning. “I’m glad you’re feeling so well and, please, wear your hair however you prefer.”

Still grinning, the waitress went away to put Angel’s order in to the kitchen. Or at least that’s what Angel thought she did. She couldn’t read the woman’s mind. She might be going back to the kitchen to dance a jig for all she knew. The only thing that mattered was that she’d made the woman feel wonderful for today. The rest of Nancy the waitress’ day would be a happy, uplifting experience. Angel had been told it was a bit like walking on sunshine.

She rolled her eyes at her wolf. Why did you tell her to change her hair? That was my private thought.

Her wolf lay down, growling low at Angel’s reprimand. You were right about the hair issue. I thought to help her. Don’t you get huffy with me. We’re running away, which makes me mad at you already.

Nancy returned with the coffee pot and set it down. Smiling as she heard the other woman humming to herself, Angel tried to feel satisfied with her own lot in life. Things weren’t really that bad. So what if she currently had no place to call home? She had money thanks to the businesses she ran, and she would find some place that was hers.

Maybe if she went out west…

A sudden scent wafted into the room, catching Angel’s attention. Usually she could ignore the smells that defined the human world. She’d learned how as a child. Some shifters went nuts due to the constant assault on their nasal passages, but not Angel. She knew she was made of stronger stuff.

But this she couldn’t ignore. This was the smell of woods, of man, of hope. She stood up. This was wolf. She took a deep breath. Yes, there was a male shifter somewhere in here and she’d caught his scent.

Breathing deeply, she wanted to grin. She’d never smelled anyone who made her senses feel like this. Usually male shifters, especially ones who wanted her, made her want to gag. This scent was like heaven. She’d had a taste and she wanted more.

She shook her head. Wow, she’d not even seen this guy yet. What was the matter with her?

Mate.

Her wolf’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

Oh no. She knew what that entailed. Soon, she’d be dragged off and locked up never to see the free world again while he screwed her until he got her pregnant. She closed her eyes. No. No. No. She wasn’t doing that. No frickin way.

Her wolf interrupted her internal rant. You have the wrong idea of mating.

Angel sat back down in her seat. She wasn’t going to find the guy. No, in fact, as soon as her food arrived, she was leaving. As fast as possible.

Oh yeah? I have the wrong idea? I’ve watched it for thirty-five years. I don’t want it.

Her wolf huffed. That’s a distorted version of mating.

Mating led to killing on Westervelt.

And thinking of that reminded her that where she was, somewhere in New Jersey, would be as close to Maine as she was going to get. Any nearer and she’d be too close for comfort to Westervelt Island. Yes, she was definitely going west.

A crash sounded in the kitchen and Angel stood up again. It was the scent wafting through the room. It was making her jumpy. She moved quickly toward the scent.

Nancy came out from the kitchen carrying her tray with a dance in her step. “Now Bob, don’t come down hard on him. It’s my fault, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.”

“Everything okay?” Angel asked.

“Oh,” Nancy laughed. “Did you hear that crash? Yes, everything is fine. I knocked over a bunch of glasses. Come sit down.” Angel did as she said following the older woman back to her table. “I’m only concerned Bob, that’s our owner, is going to come down too hard on Parker. It’s not his fault.”

Angel really hoped that Bob—the owner—wasn’t the one giving off the lovely scent that played games with her sanity. He didn’t sound like a nice guy.

The door to the kitchen swung open, slamming against the wall behind it. A man stomped out of the kitchen and Angel caught her breath at her first sight of him.

“Oh dear,” Nancy muttered. “Looks like he gave him hell anyway.”

“Who is that?” Angel could hardly utter the words.

“That’s Parker.” Nancy said his name like it made her sad to do so as she shook her head. “He washes the dishes.”

Parker was tall, maybe the tallest man Angel had ever seen. Well over six and a half feet tall, he towered over everyone else in the place. His hair was cut short, military style, and he had dark eyes to match his dark hair. Built like a linebacker, he had a presence the likes of which she had never encountered before. It was like he took up all the space in the room just by being in it.

His features were hard, like his dark eyes, and she shivered as he walked further into the room. Every part of his visible arms seemed to be marked with some kind of tattoo. She wished she was closer so she could see what they were.

Taking a deep breath, he seemed to jump backwards a step before righting himself. His head darted left and right as he tried to identify what he smelled. Angel was familiar with the look; she did it herself whenever she couldn’t find what triggered a response in her.

And she had a pretty good idea what he was smelling. He had caught her scent the same way she had caught his. Yep, there was no question about it. The huge hunk with the scary eyes and the pissed-off demeanor was her mate.

She narrowed her eyes at her wolf. No way. No how.

We do not determine these things. They’re made in the heavens. Just because the pack you were raised with distorted the natural way that doesn’t mean you get to just decide you don’t want anything to do with it.

Angel raised an eyebrow. Wanna bet?

As if he’d zoomed in on what he smelled, his head turned and he stared straight at her. Angel caught her breath. The linebacker wolf, who might be her mate if she let it happen, didn’t seem any happier about seeing her than she was to see him. In fact, he made a growling sound in his throat that stated his opinion clearly: he hated the idea.

Angel’s cheeks heated as she watched him turn around and storm back into the kitchen. She hadn’t necessarily wanted him but he had outright rejected her on sight. She rubbed a hand over her face.

Sure, she wasn’t looking her best. She’d been on the run for weeks and she was tired. Bone-weary tired. But she’d spent the night before in a motel and she was showered and clean. In the past, all the men had found her attractive enough.

Was she so ugly he’d dismissed her out of hand?

Her heart pounded hard. This was unacceptable. She was Angel Kane. He didn’t get to turn around and walk away like he didn’t know she was his mate.

“Poor guy. He’s never had it easy.”

Angel turned her fuming attention back to Nancy who grinned from ear to ear, thanks to Angel’s magic making. “Oh no?”

“No.” Nancy shook her head. “He can’t speak.”

Angel knocked over her coffee. “Oh, sorry!” Jumping up, she grabbed the napkins before Nancy could and started cleaning up her mess. “Did you say he can’t speak?”

“Not a word.”

Angel tried to digest this news. Her mate was mute? “Is there something wrong with his vocal cords? Has he seen a doctor?”

“No, it’s not a physical thing. I mean let’s face it—the man is a prime specimen of health. He doesn’t appear a day over thirty even though Bob swears he’s got to be close to forty now.”

Angel could have explained that to Nancy. Wolf shifters didn’t age past thirty until they mated. They could live forever looking like they were thirty years old.

“Go on. If it’s not physical, why can’t he speak?”

“Oh now, I don’t like to gossip…”

“Of course not.” Angel touched her arm. “You can trust me”

“Bob says that a social worker came to him with Parker twenty years ago. Told him he was twenty years old and he needed a job.” Nancy stared down at her. “According to Bob, the man said Parker was smart and capable but hadn’t uttered one word to communicate with anyone ever.” Picking up the dirty napkins, Nancy glanced back at the kitchen. “He does a good job, lives upstairs for a deduction in pay, and never utters a word. All I can think is something bad must have happened to him. Something so bad he can’t—or won’t—speak.”

Nancy finished talking and turned to go back to the kitchen.

That seemed kind of dramatic to Angel. Stopped speaking all together? No, he was a wolf, even if his co-workers didn’t know it. There was something magical going on here and, even if she didn’t want to mate, she wasn’t leaving until she found out what it was. Maybe she could help. Yes, that would be her gift to him. They wouldn’t mate—he didn’t seem to want to anyway—but she would fix his magical issues before she left to go out west.

Yes, that was a plan. She nodded her head feeling good about that.

Two repugnant odors wafted through the door and she darted to her feet. Oh no. How had they caught up to her so fast?

Julian and Houston stood staring at her from the doorway of the diner, like they’d stepped out of a Wild West movie side by side ready for a fight.

This is not going to be good.

Her wolf growled. We can take them.

In the diner? In front of all of these people?

Her wolf paced inside of her, itching for a fight. Angel tried her damndest to not lose her cool. If she had to shift and fight, it would be outside. Still, maybe there was a chance left to reason with Cole’s deranged enforcers before she had to resort to violence.

“Listen boys, I get it. Cole sent you after me. He wants to look tough. He told you whichever one of you got me, could keep me as a mate.”

She raised her hands hoping they weren’t getting too many stares from the other patrons. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb were not the brightest wolf-shifters to ever grace the planet. The fact that they worked for Cole, who only made women servants and didn’t rape them, as opposed to Zack who kept his females locked in the basement, made them only slightly less disgusting to her.

“You really don’t want me as yours. I’m not worth it. Truth is, I’m a big pain in the ass.”

Houston nodded and she wanted to deck him. Okay, maybe her priorities were warped but she didn’t want him agreeing. Screw him. He was an imbecile. He had the nerve to think anything but highly of her?

“We agree.” Houston rubbed his chin. “That’s why me and Julian, we think we’re gonna share you.”

She looked between them. Neither of them was taller than her five foot ten frame. Julian had red hair and freckles that might be cute on someone else and Houston had blond hair and blue eyes. They didn’t do it for her. Not in the least.

Her wolf might be right. She could probably take them.

“You’re going to share me? Doesn’t that kind of go against the grain in terms of mating? Isn’t the purpose of mating to own me?”

The door to the kitchen swung open and she had one second to scent him before Parker was in front of her and picking up Houston and Julian by the back of their collars. Three seconds later and they were both out on their behinds in the parking lot.

Parker turned around, not even glancing at her, and walked back into the kitchen. Angel was so confused. What had happened? She turned to follow him and walked into Nancy instead.

“Don’t worry about that. Bob has a standing policy, if anyone bothers a customer, we’re to kick them out. Parker handles this type of thing all the time.”

“He does, does he?”

So he hadn’t come out of the kitchen and charged to her rescue because he had some sort of sense about her? Well, this had to stop. With the two idiots temporarily handled, she moved past Nancy to enter the kitchen.

“I want to say thank you,” she called over her shoulder to Nancy.

The kitchen was surprisingly small, barely ten feet across, but clean and well organized. She’d stomped into it like she owned the place but now that she was inside she felt her nerve leave her. She rocked on the balls of her feet. What was it she wanted to say, exactly?

Clearing her throat, she looked at Parker who kept his back to her even though she was certain he knew she was there. Her scent would have told him if nothing else and she knew he could hear just fine so he had to have heard her enter.

Turning to her left to the scent of the other man in the room, she smiled. “Are you Bob?”

He was older, she would guess from the sounds of his heart struggling and the way his bones creaked when he moved even a little that he wasn’t much longer for this earth. Smiling, she walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder letting some of her magic make him feel better.

His smile was practically instantaneous and she let go of his arm. “Are you Bob?”

He nodded, moving back to the oven to flip the eggs simmering there. “I am.”

“Would it be okay, sir, if I thanked your dish washer for helping me out back there?”

Bob shrugged. “You can thank him but he won’t answer you. He’s not dumb.” Bob shouted presumably so Parker could hear him clearer. Angel could have told him Parker could have heard him blocks away if he’d wanted to concentrate. “Just stubborn.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Angel walked from Bob to the other side of the kitchen where Parker washed dishes. She moved up next to him until she stood directly at his side. He smelled better than heaven; he was like ambrosia and her wolf rolled around like she wanted to ingest his aroma.

Angel cleared her throat. “Um, Parker. I wanted to thank you.”

Nothing. Parker didn’t even look up or stop what he was doing to acknowledge she was there.

Okay.

Try again. Her wolf encouraged. Maybe he’s shy.

“My name is Angel. Those men out there, well, they’ve been chasing me for some time and you are the first person to ever help me. Thank you.”

Parker glanced at her from the side of his eyes. It wasn’t much, but halfway to full eye contact was better than nothing.

“Um…” She gazed at Bob and decided he was busy but not wanting to risk exposure, lowered her voice. “I think you and I both know that we’re the same in a very important way. I’m wondering if it would be possible for me to speak to you, alone, at another time? I can wait. The truck driver who is going to take me from here to some place called Poughkeepsie isn’t leaving until tomorrow. I’m supposed to spend the night out in his haul if I can’t find a motel room.”

Silence met her query but really what had she expected? He didn’t speak.

“Would that be okay? Could you meet me whenever it is that you get off work?”

Parker growled and stormed from the room out the backdoor.

Apparently that was a no.

Yeah, sometimes her wolf was the queen of understatement.

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