The deep voice came from a lot farther above her head than Baen’s familiar rumble. Ivy looked up and up and finally craned her neck to get a glimpse of the one Guardian she had not met. “Huh, you must be Ghrem, right?”
The huge warrior smiled. He had beautiful chiseled features, like some kind of male model. You know, the kind made out of stone and with wings and fangs and stuff. At his side, Rose leaned against him, looking tiny and exhausted and fragile. She wore a smile broad enough to light half of Paris.
“You are correct, Ivy,” Ghrem said. “And I owe you thanks for what you helped my Rose do here tonight. You and the other Wardens saved an enormous number of lives—mine, your own, and the rest of the world’s among them.”
“Oh, it was nothing.” Ivy tried waving away his words and nearly smacked herself in the face. She snorted. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little punch-drunk.”
“Un petit peu.” Rose smirked.
“No apologies. You wielded a great deal of power tonight. It will have drained you. You must rest and replenish your strength. Thiago and Aldous are arranging to transport everyone back to the manor house. They should have vehicles here shortly.”
Baen shook his head. “I can fly us there easily.”
Ivy thumped him. “I could have died tonight, and now you’re threatening to kill me? How is that right?”
Ghrem chuckled. “I take it your little mate does not like to fly, brother?”
“Flying is fine,” Ivy protested. “It’s why God invented airplanes. Aerial kidnapping without safety equipment conforming to FAA regulations is another thing entirely.”
“Fine.” Baen huffed. “You had a difficult night. We will ride in the van.”
“Thank you.” Ivy smiled and brushed her lips over his cheek. “I did have a difficult night. I suppose I should say it was nothing, but like I said before, that was one spell I don’t want to have to repeat.”
“You will never have to,” Ghrem assured her. “I meant that. Thiago tells us that the binding on the Demons can be kept intact provided a smaller, much smaller, spell is cast once each decade to shore up the defenses. If the Guild had performed the proper maintenance over the past centuries, the experiences we have all shared would never have happened.”
“See? This is why I insist on maintaining all my own equipment.” Kylie’s voice carried through the room ahead of her. She strolled toward them with her protective Guardian hovering over her. “Never trust someone else to do a job when you know you should be doing it yourself. It only leads to grief.”
“Or an uncomfortable brush with Armageddon,” Wynn added.
She and Knox had followed, and Ivy could see the other Guardians and their mates gathering around the spot where Baen still sat on the floor, cradling her in his lap. Somehow, having that many powerful beings staring down at her made her a little uncomfortable. Especially now that she’d seen firsthand what they all could do when motivated.
She scrambled to her feet but allowed herself to lean against her mate when he joined her. Her gaze flitted around the lopsided circle of Guardians and Wardens. “So, I guess we kinda saved the world, huh? What do you suppose we do for an encore?”
Chuckles greeted her, but Kylie was the only one who took the question seriously. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I could really go for tacos. What do you say, Rose? Do you have any decent Mexican places in Paris?”
The woman blinked in surprise. “Er, I am not certain. Perhaps you would settle for something else?”
“No snails,” the hacker warned.
“Pas du tout. Not at this hour. I was thinking … pizza? We can bring some back to the manor with us and save everyone from having to cook.”
Kylie pursed her lips and nodded. “I could do pizza. With champagne. After all, when in France, right?”
Baen smiled. “I would say that we definitely have something to celebrate. Wouldn’t you?” He leaned down to brush a kiss across his mate’s lips.
Ivy quirked a brow. “Good triumphs over evil?”
The Guardian glanced around them. Ivy followed his gaze, realizing what he was really seeing—a group of warriors and humans who had begun as strangers and now become friends.
No, more than that. Family.
Seven matched pairs, male to female, Guardian to Warden, heart to heart. Stone figures brought to life, then given a free future by the mates who loved them. Now that she considered it, Ivy figured that made for a pretty good story.
“Good triumphed,” Baen agreed, smiling at their family before turning back to meet Ivy’s smiling gaze. “But more importantly, love conquered all.”
Her smile turned into a grin, and she stretched up into his kiss.
“Oh, yeah,” she murmured against her mate’s lips. “I’ll drink to that.”
Read on for an excerpt from Christine Warren’s next book
BABY, I’M HOWLING FOR YOU
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
“Hey, wait a second!”
Renny had bitten her tongue through the entire phone conversation, but now she wanted answers. How was it possible that she had collapsed onto the property of a man who knew her stalker? Talk about “of all the gin joints.” The world couldn’t possibly be that small, could it?
Mick ignored her, and she frowned. She scrambled from the SUV, reached out, and grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “Mick, wait—”
She didn’t get out another word.
The moment her hand touched his skin, he went off like a nuclear warhead. At least, she felt as if she’d been hit by one. The wolf reversed their grips, seizing her by the wrist she’d held out to him and jerking her toward him. She crashed into his body and felt the impact like his muscles had turned to concrete. He was hard all over.
All over.
His mouth slammed down on hers, all heat and hunger and barely controlled fury. She wasn’t entirely sure what he was mad at, whether it was she or Geoffrey who had earned his wrath, but when the taste of him sank into her, she no longer cared.
Coffee and pine and thick, powerful musk combined on her tongue. The flavor was so rich, it made her head spin. Seriously. If he hadn’t had her wrapped up against him by then, she would have toppled over. Her legs went weak and threatened to buckle, and still he kissed her like he wanted to devour her whole.
For the first few seconds, shock kept her frozen. She couldn’t do anything but let him kiss her. Not that she suffered from it, of course. In the back of her mind, her wolf had thrown back its head, howled for joy, and promptly thrown itself over to wriggle around on its back like a golden retriever begging for belly rubs. Their mate was kissing them!
Then the initial surprise wore off, and Renny did the only thing she possibly could. She grabbed on and kissed him back with every ounce of passion in her soul. If this turned out to be a momentary aberration, and he went back to trying to ignore her existence the way he had the night before, she intended to enjoy every single toe-curling second of it while it lasted.
Judging by the way her belly clenched, her insides melted, and her pussy dampened, her body was totally on board. As far as it was concerned, she could just lie down on the asphalt and let her mate have her. Road rash and passing vehicles be damned. This was the kiss she’d been waiting for all her life.
If any last thread of doubt had existed in her about whether Mick was really her mate, the kiss burned it up like the fuse on a stick of dynamite. He feasted on her mouth, his tongue mating with hers like he wanted to taste every inch of her from the inside out. The feeling was mutual. She felt herself drowning in the essence of him, and her body began to ache with the need to feel him inside her, above her, behind her, touching her everywhere, in every way, all at once.
Fuck reality. She would defy the laws of physics if she had to, but Renny needed him. Now.
And then he yanked himself away from her as violently as he’d pulled her to him. One minute, she was drowning in pleasure, and the next she was just drownin
g. Or at least, that’s what it felt like, because at some point during that kiss, she had forgotten how to breathe.
She stood there, mouth open, lungs straining, and Mick just clenched his jaw and turned away. “Let’s go.”
Go?
A voice inside Renny’s head laughed a little. No, scratch that. It giggled a bit hysterically. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs, couldn’t get oxygen to her brain, and he wanted her to master the art of independent locomotion? Was he high?
He was not, she realized, as sanity slowly began to leak back into her body. Her lungs expanded in a gasp, and she staggered for a second before she could catch herself. She’d been the one who’d gotten high, and it turned out that the alpha wolf was her drug of choice.
Also by
Christine Warren
Hard to Handle
Hard as a Rock
Stone Cold Lover
Heart of Stone
Hungry Like a Wolf
Drive Me Wild
On the Prowl
Not Your Ordinary Faerie Tale
Black Magic Woman
Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here
Born to Be Wild
Big Bad Wolf
You’re So Vein
One Bite with a Stranger
Walk on the Wild Side
Howl at the Moon
The Demon You Know
She’s No Faerie Princess
Wolf at the Door
Anthologies
Huntress
No Rest for the Witches
Praise for the Gargoyle series by
New York Times bestselling author
CHRISTINE WARREN
Heart of Stone
“The opening of Warren’s hot new paranormal series is a snarky, creative, and steamy success that delights new and longtime fans alike.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 stars)
“The sexual attraction … is palpable.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Steamy scenes, mixed with an intriguing story line and a hearty helping of snarky humor.”
—Reader to Reader
“Rousing … [an] engaging urban fantasy.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Fast-paced with characters you’ll love, and even some you’ll love to hate, Heart of Stone is another winner for author Christine Warren!”
—Romance Reviews
Stone Cold Lover
“Soars with fun, witty characters and nonstop action.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Fascinating, complex, and so well crafted … perfect for keeping fans … coming back for more.”
—RT Book Reviews (4 stars)
Hard as a Rock
“Fiery, fierce, and fun.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Smoldering hot … the stakes are fatally high and the chemistry [is] simply blistering.”
—RT Book Reviews
About the Author
Born and raised in coastal New England, Christine Warren now lives as a transplant in the Pacific Northwest, where she gets ocean, mountains, forests, and farmland all in one pretty package. When not writing (as if that ever happens), she enjoys spoiling her horse, playing with her dogs, concocting all sorts of yummies (both liquid and solid), and most of all, reading things someone else had to agonize over. She enjoys hearing from readers and can be reached via e-mail sent to [email protected]. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
The Beginning
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Excerpt: Baby I’m Howling for You
Also by Christine Warren
Praise for the Gargoyle series by New York Times bestselling author CHRISTINE WARREN
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HARD BREAKER
Copyright © 2017 by Christine Warren.
Excerpt from Baby, I’m Howling for You copyright © 2017 by Christine Warren.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781466889408
Our books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, ext. 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / November 2017
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
Hard Breaker Page 29
