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She would have made his next breath his last, if he hadn’t stolen hers.
Wolves’ Bane
© 2015 Angela Addams
The Order of the Wolf, Book 3
Morgan Stills is a woman without a future. At least, that’s what the carnival psychic tells her. Love is foretold as well, but too bad. She’s already been marked for death.
She no sooner flees the psychic’s tent when she’s confronted by the biggest wolf she’s ever seen. A wolf that talks to her—right before she’s enveloped in a black cloak and dragged away.
Caleb was born for one purpose: follow the burning of his tattoo to find and protect his destined mate, the Huntress. When he rescues her from Lazarus, the king of beasts, what thanks does he get? A swift kick in his tender parts that leaves him writhing in a ball of pain.
Morgan quickly realizes her destiny lies with the Order of the Wolf. The only catch—she must choose between two sworn enemies who vie for her body, heart, and soul. Marked as a Huntress, thrust into an ancient feud between werewolf and Hunter, she must pick up a sword or die. And somehow learn to live without the man she is destined to kill.
Warning: Be prepared for fiery hot, melt-your-panties men, all muscle and sinew, searching for their one true mate. Committed, hot, and horny. What could be better?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Wolves’ Bane:
When Caleb heard the call of the wolf, his gut bottomed out. He had a matter of minutes to find her. He pumped his legs faster, relying on instinct to locate the Huntress. If she died, if he failed…well, that just wasn’t an option.
Not this time. Not his Huntress.
He had been chosen for this night, and he would get to her first.
The wolves were near, closing in, and she was there. Her scent sang to him, her fear torqueing his own a millionfold. She had every right to be terrified—if the wolf got to her first, she was as good as dead.
The mark of the beast that etched Cal’s forearm burned with her proximity. The prophecy had, for once, been clear and non-cryptic—she would be at this fair on this night, and he would have only moments to save her life.
Cal pulled the cloak from his backpack as he ran. He pushed himself faster, tossing the bag aside once the cloak was free, his gaze darting, searching for a lone woman standing, frightened, with a beast breathing down her neck, ready to strike.
He narrowed his eyes. In the distance, on the outermost edge of the carnival’s borders, near the dark forest that surrounded it, there she stood. The beast’s paws cradling her head—touching what belonged to him. Anger and possessive rage gripped Cal. She is mine.
He ran toward her, opening the cloak and bellowing his fury. Seconds later, his men returned his call, their own shouts echoing from all around him. The wolf turned its dirty yellow glare in his direction seconds before Cal jumped. He slammed into her with more force than he’d intended but was relieved that the momentum pushed her out of the beast’s grasp as he enveloped her in the cloak.
The roar of rage that followed was like an icy hand gripping his heart. With the Huntress secure in the cloak, the beast would not be able to see or find her. She was safe so long as she wore it. It would disorient the pack enough to give Cal a chance to run with her, because even though she was invisible to them, he was not. Fleeing was the only sure way for her to live.
Cal hoisted her up, tightening his grip as he heaved her over his shoulder. When she started to struggle, he locked her legs in place against his chest. She may not like it, but he was determined to get her to safety, to protect what was his—a thought that had him itching for a little wolfie ass-kicking. Although he couldn’t actually kill the beasts—only the Huntresses could do that—he could leave his mark, and for touching his woman… Yeah, he’d be very happy to embed his blade in ol’ Lazarus’s gut. Shoving that thought aside and with his men falling in to cover them, Cal turned on his heel and ran in the opposite direction, ignoring the instinct to fight in favor of securing the Huntress until they could get her back to the mansion.
Zigzagging at breakneck speed through the maze of tents, trailers and carnival rides was a good way to lose any wolves that dared follow him, but it was also an excellent way to get lost. At least his Huntress wasn’t battling him. Her body moved and swayed with his as he ran. Although it made for an easier trek, her docility was a little disappointing. He had hoped his Huntress would have a little more fire in her.
Cal skidded to a halt when he reached a dead end, cursing at his lousy sense of direction. A peninsula of trees that jutted from the forest loomed before him. As tempting as the notion was, he could just make out their vehicles on the other side of the small stretch of foliage, he couldn’t go in there, not with her anyway. The forest belonged to the beasts.
As if to second that conviction, a wolf called, its eerie howl far too close for his liking. Just as he’d feared, at least one of the pack had broken away from the fight. He needed to get the Huntress to safety, and it would be easier to do if she was running on her own two legs.
He moved back, away from the forest and around one of the carnival trailers, sweeping his gaze over every potential hiding place. Once he was satisfied that nothing lurked in the shadows, he gripped her waist and made ready to lower her from his shoulder when the scraping sound of claws on gravel touched his ears. Cal froze and slowly turned, adjusting the Huntress’s weight in case he had to run again. Peering around the trailer, he caught sight of a lone wolf venturing into the carnival grounds and heading away from them. It was a momentary reprieve. It wouldn’t take the beast long to track his scent. He had no choice. It was time to fight.
Cal moved deeper into the shadows, traveling a few more steps down the length of the trailer before lowering the Huntress as gently as he could, more intent on unsheathing his sword than worrying about whether or not she got a few bruises. The second her body hit the ground, she began grunting and cursing, clearly desperate to get herself out of the cloak. Panic flared as he quickly glanced over his shoulder, half expecting the beast to beeline right for them with all the noise she was making. With a rough curse of his own, Caleb placed his sword on the ground next to him and struggled to release her from the folds of the cloth, cursing even more when he became tangled in her frenzy to be free.
“Will you stay still?” he barked, his frustration growing. “I’m trying to get you out of there.”
Thankfully, she stopped struggling and after a few minutes of tugging, he finally found where the cloth was knotted and yanked it down, the quick movement working to release the rest of it from her head.
She opened her lips as if to scream, so he quickly laid his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flared open with shock. He whispered in her ear for silence.
“There is another beast tracking us. You must remain hidden in the cloak until it passes. No matter what you hear or what you think you hear, you must wear the cloak. If you take it off, you will die. Understand?”
With eyes still wide, she nodded slowly. He motioned with his free hand for her to be silent, then slowly removed the hand that covered her mouth. He repositioned the cloak so that it draped naturally from her shoulders, his fingers grazing the flesh above her breasts as he clasped it closed and raised the hood to cover her head.
Just that mere contact had his body responding to the point of distraction. He was hard for her already, wanting more than just a mistaken touch. My Huntress. He held her waist as he lifted her to stand, his hands molding to her flesh so perfectly that he ached to crush her against him, to feel her yielding, soft curves against his body. But this was not the time for fantasy and lust, even if he craved her beyond anything he could ever prepare for, just as the Oracle said he would.
/> “Now stay here. I’ll return shortly.”
“Wait!” she hissed, her eyes blazing.
Cal turned to face her, doing little to mask his impatience. “What?”
“Who are you?” She didn’t sound scared. In fact, by the look in her eyes, he had a feeling that there was more to her question than he could guess.
“My name is Caleb, your Hunter.”
With a gasp, her eyes wide open once again, she moved toward him, her hand raised as if to stroke his cheek. Cal moved forward, compelled by her action, his body wanting her touch like fire wanted air. Was it possible that she felt the same irresistible pull to him? As the backs of her fingers lightly brushed his jaw, she leaned forward until her lips were inches from his. Okay, maybe one kiss—he could afford at least one indulgence.
Her eyes blazed once again. “As if, asshole! Screw you!”
With a swift and well-placed knee thrust, Cal was rocked with such vivid pain that he dropped to the ground in a writhing mess, the dual sensation of wanting to vomit and shit himself slamming him with brutal intensity. But even as wave upon wave of nauseating pain rolled through him, he struggled to stand, biting back his moans, not wanting to attract the attention of the beast, as Cal searched the darkness for her. It was amazing how powerful getting kicked in the sac was, especially when in a state of arousal. Fucking hell. The Oracle had warned him this wouldn’t be an easy mission. No shit. He’d never hear the end of it from his men.
As the initial shocking pain slowly faded to a throbbing beat, he released his protective grip on his balls and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, swallowing the saliva that pooled in his mouth and the bile that lodged in his throat.
He flipped open his phone and punched the speed dial, furious with himself for being so damn stupid. Your Hunter. What the fuck possessed him to utter those words he couldn’t say. This Huntress was different. Just as the Oracle had warned, she’d grown up outside of the Order and away from the rich cultural upbringing that would have prepared her for such a night. She wouldn’t know what a Hunter was other than in the simplest definition of the word, and to someone who thought they were human, a hunter could be a very scary thing. Cal cursed his thoughtless comment, knowing that his brain had been so distracted by his body’s needs that he hadn’t been thinking straight.
“You lost her, didn’t you?” The cocky voice of his second in command, Lance, pulled him from his thoughts.
“She’s running east.”
“I’m on it.”
Just as he clicked off his phone and slid it back into his pocket, he heard the scrape of claws behind him and felt the puff of rancid breath billow over his neck. Shit. He shifted his gaze to his sword, which thankfully still lay at his side, calculating the odds of him getting a strike in before his head was ripped from his neck. Picking up a handful of gravel and sand, he battled his screaming instinct to snatch up his sword and instead spun away from it. Taking the beast by surprise, Cal threw the mixture into its eyes before barreling into its flank, landing jab after jab to its ribcage as he rolled toward his blade, praying this time luck would be on his side.
In a hunt for love, who’s the predator and who’s the prey?
Illicit Passions
© 2014 Crystal Jordan
Forbidden Passions, Book 6
Tori Haida was born a stereotype—a pretty swan shifter—and has spent a lifetime living it down with an in-your-face attitude and a zero-tolerance policy for stupidity. Which makes her attraction to the werewolf Alpha’s heir more than a tad inconvenient.
Bastian Lykaios is just the kind of dominant male who drives her crazy, and not in a good way. And yet, she can’t help wanting him in the worst way.
The moment he arrives at the Refuge Resort, Bastian is in lust. The were-leopards’ administrative assistant is a study in contrasts: a cheerleader-perky blonde with a body built for sin, the mouth of a sailor, and a lead foot for her classic car.
Unfortunately, there’s no time to indulge in an affair, not while a werekind traitor is leaking information to the human press. But when Tori is kidnapped by a pair of scientists to use as a live specimen, Bastian’s plan for damage control turns into a rescue mission. One where all means of rescue are on the table—including betraying his own kind.
Warning: Two strong personalities clashing in and out of bed, in every possible position—in classic convertibles, in the desert, in the woods, up against the wall, bent over a desk, and even occasionally on a mattress.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Illicit Passions:
Tori glanced up as two tall men entered the lobby of the Leonidas headquarters. She had to blink a couple of times to clear her blurry vision. Four days with no smoking and she was on a killer jag of insomnia. Swan-shifter or not, her bosses were walking softly and watching her with wary gazes. Part of her was amused by that, but mostly she just wanted some sleep and the constant headache to go away. Or a cigarette. That would work too.
Sighing, she rose from her chair to greet the newcomers. One, she knew. Nico Leonidas. The other she hadn’t met before, but she knew he was the wolf Beta. He was turned to the side to speak to Nico, so she could only see him in profile, but she took a moment to look him over. Even from this distance, she could tell he was incredibly attractive. Broad shoulders that tapered down to a lean waist and sculpted ass. Long, muscular legs his pants did nothing to hide. He had the same inky black hair as Lyra, and while the cast of his features declared them family, his face was more angular. High cheekbones, square jaw. Mmm-hmm, he was a pretty piece of man-candy.
But when he turned and their eyes met, it was like a spark of electricity zinged over her nerve endings. Her breath seized in her lungs, and a shiver of pure sexual awareness caught her in its grip. Liquid heat sluiced through her body and settled in her sex. Some instinct she didn’t understand roared to life and she wanted so badly it weakened her knees. His gray eyes burned to silver and he took a step toward her. A wicked, knowing smile curled his lips, as if he understood exactly what kind of affect he had on her. There was a touch of arrogance to his expression, as if he’d seen what he wanted and knew it would be his.
Get a grip, Tori. She shook herself, straightened her spine and stiffened her knees.
Yes, he was attractive and it was clear he knew it. Unfortunately, he also had that alpha male swagger that said he owned the world and had no problem telling people what to do. So not her type. All four of the Leonidases had that same attitude. Five, if she counted their father, Hector. Actually, Hector was the worst of the bunch and Tori hadn’t particularly liked him the few times they’d met. She’d mostly wanted to put a boot up his domineering ass.
She was also fairly certain her intolerance of he-man bullshit was why Lyra had decided it would be good for Adrian and Jason to have Tori as an assistant. The thought made her grin.
Uh-oh. The wolf Beta’s gaze sharpened on her the way men’s did when they noticed she was more than simply pretty—she was drop-dead gorgeous. Her smile did that. Unlike most men, he didn’t melt into a puddle of testosterone at her feet. She liked that and wasn’t sure she should. His grin turned easy and charming and it annoyed her that her belly did a quivery little flip.
“Hello,” he said, the slow Southern drawl making the word sound like it was dipped in honey. “I’m Bastian Lykaios.”
He held out his hand to shake and she hesitated while deciding if she really wanted to touch him. That would confirm a chemistry she wasn’t sure she was in the mood to acknowledge. His eyes narrowed at her show of resistance, and a non-alpha male would have dropped his hand. Instead, he arched an eyebrow and waited her out.
It was the expression on his face, daring her to take his hand, that did her in. She’d never been one to back down from a challenge.
“Tori Haida.” Thrusting her arm out, she wrapped her fingers around his broad palm. His grin spread and she got a flash of wolfish fangs. Oh, yeah. Chemistry out the wazoo. The slight calluses on his hand rasped
against her skin, made a shudder pass through her. Her nipples tightened and her sex clenched. He tugged her closer, and his scent hit her. Hot male spiced with a light cologne. His thumb swept over the inside of her wrist, and her pulse leapt in response. His touch left sweet little tingles in its wake, and she had to yank her arm back before she did something really embarrassing. Like jump him. Or start panting.
Someone cleared their throat, and they jerked apart. She turned to see all four Leonidas brothers and three of their wives standing there staring at them. Jason coughed. “I see you’ve met our administrative assistant.”
“Ah. Yes.” Bastian shook himself, didn’t even glance at her. “I’ll take some coffee, Ms. Haida. Black.”
Really? That was how he covered the overly intimate moment they’d just shared? By treating her like a servant? She resisted the urge to stomp her heel into his toes.
“Well, it’s over there.” She pointed to the fancy espresso machine on the credenza. “Help yourself.”
He frowned. Oh, he didn’t like it that she had no intention of waiting on him? Too damn bad. If she didn’t do it for her bosses, she sure as hell wouldn’t do it for him. She didn’t care how fuckable he looked and felt, she wasn’t going to roll over and play doormat for him.
Just to piss him off, she faced Nico and gave him a little curtsey. “Prince Consort. I’m honored by your presence.”
He didn’t crack a smile, but amusement glittered in his gaze. He inclined his torso ever so slightly in a bow. “Ms. Haida.”
“May I get you anything? Coffee? Soda?” She widened her eyes as if eager to do his bidding. Luckily, he wasn’t stupid enough to take her up on the offer.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
Jason snorted, Adrian rolled his eyes and Bastian’s frown turned into a scowl. He drew in a deep breath as if scenting the air. Then he asked, “What kind of bird-shifter are you?”
“Swan.” The word shot out of her mouth like a bullet, and she waited for the smirk she often saw when men realized the too-pretty woman turned into an equally pretty bird.
Spell-Weaver Page 9
