by Selena Blake
“And if you lose your position because of it?”
“There’s that possibility. They’ll want to know how I plan to have heirs.”
Ceara smiled against his chest. “The same way everyone else does?”
Maxim frowned. She pulled back and stared up at him, obviously waiting for him to reply. Then the most beautiful smile stretched her lips. It was a confident, sultry smile that said she knew something he did not.
She slipped beneath his arm and pressed her naked torso against his back. Her cool fingertips trailed down his abs, stopping at the edge of his slacks. Nipping his shoulder, she undid the button and then slid the zipper down. “Silly wolf. You didn’t think that we could have children, did you?”
Reaching inside the opening, she stroked his cock until he sighed.
Then she returned to the circle of his arms, stretching up on her tiptoes. Because of her heightened emotions, her beautiful eyes glowed silver as she brushed her lips against his.
“I’m a full-blooded vamp,” she whispered against his lips. “Our children will have my fangs and your fur.”
Maxim stumbled back. Her words, her lips, tilted his world on its axis.
Of course. Why hadn’t that occurred to him? Hybrids were rare, but not impossible.
“I—but—”
She laughed, silhouetted by the moonlit waters in the distance.
He made short work of his shoes, socks, and slacks. Reaching out, he pulled her flush against him. Her breasts flattened against his chest and she closed her hands over his hips. “I’m glad we got that sorted out.”
“Enough talking, my beautiful mate,” he said and slanted his lips across hers.
His erection, hot and hard, nestled between them. She ran her fingers through his hair. Oh, his wolf liked that. And then she hooked a thigh over his hip, opening herself to him. He ran a hand from her hip to her knee, mesmerized by the softness. She gasped against his lips when he rocked his hips against her, his cock nudging her clit.
Ceara sucked on his tongue, pleased with the groan that rumbled from his chest. She’d never felt more alive. Pressed against him, moonlight on her skin, naked for all the world to see.
She reveled in his touch. His strength. The delicious scent of him. She could hardly believe he was her mate. After all the anxiety, loneliness and waiting…
“Perhaps I should tie you to the railing so you don’t disappear on me again,” he murmured. Deep down the idea of being tied to his bed, at his mercy, excited her. She trusted him. With her heart. Her body. Her soul.
“Perhaps you should,” she teased. His lips stopped on their quest along her jaw. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
Growling low in his throat, he pressed her back until her hips hit the railing. With the moon out, shining down, anyone could see them. But she only had eyes for the man kneeling before her.
She sucked in a breath as his tongue traced the edge of her panties. When he lifted her leg and draped it over his shoulder, she locked her hands around the railing and concentrated on remaining upright.
He shot her a wicked smile before leaning in and licking down her slit. The fabric provided incredible friction and her hips jerked. “Max—”
She ran her tongue over her fangs. Pleasure mounted inside her and her muscles tightened, desperate for release. He pulled her panties to the side and his lips closed over her clit. As he started sucking gently, she lost all ability to speak.
He sank one finger into her pussy, priming her. Her head dropped back and she closed her eyes. So good. So close. And then—
His fingers closed over her left nipple, pulling it gently until a flame of desire washed over her. A resounding spark started a fire deep inside.
Unaware of her surroundings or audience, she cried out as a powerful orgasm swamped her.
Maxim gave her no time to recover. She was still humming with pleasure when he stood and leaned her back over the railing. She barely had time to clutch his shoulders before he entered her with one well aimed thrust. So complete. So full. She sighed, unable to tell where he began and she ended.
She smiled. Here they were again. The same spot where he’d taken her those months ago. Taken her, made her his forever. Her heart felt ready to burst.
He wrapped strong arms around her, holding her still as he thrust into her again, setting a steady tempo. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles behind his ass, accepting his weight.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, pistoning in and out of her.
She agreed. Though he probably wouldn’t want to be called beautiful. She bit her lip, drawing blood, as she watched the look of concentration on his handsome face. Then her gaze dipped to the thumping vein at the side of his neck.
“Bite me, vamp. Know you been wantin’ to.”
She hadn’t thought she could love him anymore than she already did. But then he’d welcomed her bite, showing his trust in her. She smiled up at him. “Am I that easy to read?”
He grinned and her heart bounced around in her rib cage. He didn’t slow the driving rhythm as she pulled herself closer and nuzzled his neck. As they hurtled toward completion, she scraped her fangs against his skin, delighting in the way he trembled against her.
And then she sank her teeth into his flesh. His blood washed over her tongue, sweet and rich. An ecstasy like she’d never known flooded her as she drank from him. Marking him. Just as he’d marked her.
His big body tightened around her, his penis flaring inside her as he came. He growled low in his throat. Then he lifted his head and honest–to–goodness howled at the moon. It was a beautiful sound. Pure, glorious.
A happy wolf. A mated wolf.
A wolf to call her own.
***
Dear Reader,
I hope you enjoyed Maxim and Ceara’s story. Ceara first came to me wearing that killer dress from second Skyline bar scene and it was the first one I wrote for the story. Only after delving further into her character did I learn about her painful past.
I’ve never been a believer in age dictating life. I’ve known ninety year old men who’ve gone sky-diving, eighty year old women who finally finished high school, and teens who’ve started multi-million dollar companies. So why not find love in your early twenties?
For Ceara, I had to find just the right man. I love playing match maker. In this case, I think I did pretty good. Maxim and Ceara compliment each other. Isn’t that one of the greatest qualities a relationship can have? As Jerry McGuire once said “you complete me.”
I feel that way about my readers. You guys keep me writing. Your notes, feedback, and online comments brighten my day. I hope my stories do the same for you.
I keep my website updated regularly and you can frequently find me chatting with readers on my blog. Sometimes I let my assistant give away books on Fridays, so stop by.
And if you’re in the market for free books, be sure to sign up for my newsletter. Joining gets you instant access to my Members Only lounge and every good WolfCub knows that the Members Only Lounge is where it’s at. That exclusive key gets you into the Wolfpack. And there are currently four free reads waiting for you. Ready to sign up? http://site.selena-blake.com/members/
I hope you enjoyed A Werewolf to Call Her Own. But even if you didn’t, I’d still appreciate a review. I read each and every one and I learn from them so that each book is better than the last. If you’re not sure where to leave a review, here are a few suggestions. Why not start at the site where you purchased your copy? I’m active on Goodreads and review books there myself. Look me up. There’s also Shelfari and LibraryThing. If you have a blog, that’d be a great place too.
As always, I love hearing from my readers. You can write to me at [email protected].
Happy Reading,
Selena
P.S. Get this book signed at http://www.authorgraph.com.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next book in the Mystic Isle series, Games Demons Play. It’s Izzy’s turn to
find love in paradise.
***
Chapter One
“Hello, Gorgeous.” Izzy Lukin trailed the edge of her index finger down the flawless black paint. The Bugatti Veyron could have been a man, she lusted for it so.
“Who are you talking to?” Avery’s voice echoed in Izzy’s ears thanks to her iPhone’s earbuds.
“No one,” Izzy said quickly, snatching her hand back.
The dim light in the garage made the sleek sports car extra seductive. Like a woman dripping in candlelight. But a woman did not come with twelve hundred horsepower. Or a body with enough contours it could have been a world-class bodybuilder. And a gleaming paint job that called to Izzy like a droplet of blood.
Like all vamps, she was attracted to shiny, sparkling things, and the car in Valencia’s garage certainly glittered. Especially since Izzy had opened the enormous garage door, letting the pale beams of light from the full moon dance through the space.
“You're not doing what I think you're doing?” Avery asked. Avery, the raven-haired American beauty with the exotic Asian features, was fast and loose with men, but when it came to coven rules, she might as well have been a nun.
“Of course not. I was only talking to her.” Talking. Lusting after her. Her being Gorgeous, the car.
“I still think it’s crazy-sauce that V nicknames her cars,” Avery replied. As a former Olympian and sports therapist, Avery was practical. Analytical. She was not particularly fantastical.
“She nicknames her jewels too.”
“Well, honey, if I had stones like hers, I'd name ’em too.”
“I will be back before sunup. Do not worry about me.” She clutched the collection of hangers with her left index finger and tossed the garments over her shoulder.
“I still don't understand why you don't let the butler take care of your dry cleaning.”
Avery didn't mind being waited on. Izzy hadn't gotten used to it. And besides, sometimes she just needed her space. “I like to get out of the house.” Despite the enormous mansion and several hectares of land, she still got restless sometimes and needed to be out among people. It was probably because she grew up in a big city where you could not move without rubbing shoulders with your neighbor.
Izzy glanced over at the motorcycle Valencia had given her on the one-year anniversary of the night she’d been turned. Jet-black with sparks of chrome. A beast of a machine that purred between her thighs, but it wasn’t the Bugatti.
She glanced back at the car and a tendril of desire snaked through her body. What would it be like to drive such a precision machine? She could almost feel the bucket seats curving around her, hugging her, cupping her ass like tight denim. Like the ultimate caress.
Over the top of the car, Izzy spied the shadow box containing keys to all the cars in the garage. Normally, Izzy drove her motorcycle or if she needed a car, she drove Lucifer, the Mercedes. But right there for the world to see… The keys to the Bugatti. Did she dare?
“Do not wait up.” As she hit the button on the phone to disconnect the call she heard Avery call her name. There was no way for Avery to make it from her room to the garage in time to stop Izzy. Unless she flashed.
Valencia would never know. She was in New York City for fashion week, Izzy reasoned with herself.
The engine roared, then purred. A tremor went through Izzy’s body as she adjusted the mirrors. The car was ridiculously expensive. She pulled into the courtyard and flipped on the lights. It was not often that Izzy got butterflies of excitement in her stomach. Being wrapped in this glorious car was one of those times.
Smiling, she stepped on the gas.
The gas pedal was sensitive, just as she’d expected. It would be so easy, too easy, to release the power. To accelerate across the countryside.
When she rolled to a stop on the outside of town she looked at the sign across the road. Left to town. Right… to Germany. To that autobahn.
Glancing in the rearview mirror, she weighed her options. Her impulsive nature took over and she promptly forgot about her dry cleaning.
A speed-limitless stretch of highway wasn’t that hard to find. Gorgeous answered every request for power and precision. Each time she shifted gears, Gorgeous threw Izzy deeper into the seat. And into love. The power was like a full body blow, but the leather seat broke her fall. Izzy lovingly stroked the steering wheel and spoke to the car in her native tongue.
The dial on the dashboard skipped past one hundred. One-twenty. One-thirty. Gorgeous wasn’t even straining. This car had been created for this road, Izzy was sure of it. The road was deserted, curving gently, beckoning.
At one-sixty-five Izzy let out a yip of pure glee. She’d bet her favorite boots that Valencia had never let Gorgeous run like this.
A pair of headlights flashed into her rearview mirror, skipped to the driver’s side mirror and then disappeared. A red flash caught her attention as it passed her on the left and disappeared down the road.
Frowning, she gritted her teeth together and pressed the accelerator harder. The engine gave her what she wanted. More power. More speed. One-seventy. One-eighty. One-ninety. Two-fifteen. At two hundred and thirty-five kilometers an hour, she saw the taillights of the Ferrari.
“You are mine,” she said out loud.
Gorgeous gave another burst of speed, her tires gripping the road like she was on rails. At two-fifty, she breezed by the Ferrari. Though she doubted the driver could see, she threw up a hand and gave a little wave.
The Bugatti was the fastest street-legal car in the world. Top speed of two hundred and sixty-seven miles per hour. If that guy wanted a race, he was going to lose.
She smiled when she saw his headlights in her rearview mirror again. The Ferrari crossed into the left lane and pulled up next to her. He was a smooth driver, she’d give him that. At least, she assumed the driver was male.
High on the power, the speed, she pressed the gas pedal a little further. The Ferrari matched her speed. A little more. Same result. Faster still. Faster until her heart was in her throat.
She let her foot off the gas. Gorgeous slowed. Izzy glanced at the dash. Damn. Dawn wasn’t too far away.
“It is time to go home,” she told the car, regretting that she could not stay out all day. One day she’d be as old as Valencia and could come and go as she pleased. Maybe one day she’d be as wealthy as Valencia and could afford a car like this.
She took the next exit, crossed over, and pointed the car toward home. If she hurried, she’d get her dry cleaning dropped off and be back in the garage with plenty of time to wipe Gorgeous down.
It couldn’t have been more than a minute later that the red Ferrari eased up next to her again. This time the passenger window was rolled down.
She’d been right. The driver was male. But more than that, he was big. She glanced his way again. What was it Avery called them? An uber hottie? Yes, that was it.
This uber hottie knew how to drive. For some reason, Izzy found that very sexy.
If he was this handsome in uneven dashboard light, what would he look like across the table from her? Or better yet, in her bed?
She didn’t have time to imagine it. Gorgeous came up on a car and Izzy steered right. The Ferrari veered left. They passed the car and met up on the other side.
Obviously, he wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere since he’d turned around to follow her. She reached down and pressed the button for the driver’s window. A loud bang echoed through the cab and Gorgeous jerked right. Izzy clutched the wheel. Gorgeous spun across the pavement. Then she rolled.
Something wet was trickling into her eye.
“Oh,” she moaned.
“I’ve got you,” a deep, masculine voice rumbled in her ears.
She tried to open her eyes. Her head pounded. Too much light. Was it morning already? Panic bolted through her and she struggled.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” the voice said again. Big hands held her wrists captive.
“Impossible,�
� she murmured.
“Don’t move.”
The words sent a fresh tendril of fear through her. Not again. No. Not again. Fear.
Struggle. Scream. Coco’s voice echoed through her mind. Scream. Fight.
For the briefest of seconds, Izzy took stock of her injures. Nothing felt broken. She opened her eyes and threw her arms out at the same time, breaking the man’s hold. He tumbled backward, clutching his nose, cussing.
Eyes wide, she sprang to her feet. She had to get to shelter. She had to get out of the sun.
“Jesus, woman!”
The man from the car. It was still dark. But, how—oh no. No. “No. No. No. No. No!”
She stumbled up the hillside to where Gorgeous lay, upside down, her windshield gaping open. Bits of her lay scattered on the slope. A fender. A side mirror.
Her lights blinded Izzy.
She squinched her lids shut and held out a hand to further shield herself.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” A twig snapped beneath his foot as he approached. A heavy hand settled on her left shoulder. Izzy spun away from him, hissing.
“Whoa! It’s okay, little vamp.”
“This is not okay!”
This was bad. So very bad. Valencia was going to kill her. She would not be surprised if the mansion had a dungeon somewhere. Valencia would lock her up for all eternity.
“It can be fixed.”
“Fixed?” Izzy screeched, feeling more unraveled by the second.
Valencia saved her life. Turned her. Gave her a home. Protection. Taught her the ways of the vampire. And what had Izzy done? Wrecked the most expensive car in V’s stable.
Oh heavens. She was going to pass out. Was it possible for a vamp to pass out?
She quickly sat before she fell. The handsome man sat next to her. She squinted at the upside-down car.
“Do you have any idea how much it would cost to fix,” she waved her hand in the general direction of the Bugatti, “that?”
