To the Max
Fantasmagorical
Court Appointed
Tooth and Claw
Blackmailed
Look What Santa Brought
He’s a shape-shifting wolf, she’s a psychic and his other half. In order to catch a killer he has to rely on his Seeing Eye Mate.
Seeing Eye Mate
© 2006 Annmarie McKenna
Caelan Graham is on the hunt for a shape-shifter bent on killing female mates. As Prime, it’s Caelan’s duty to protect his entire pack, so it’s a good thing he doesn’t have a mate of his own to look after right now. Too bad the most alluring female has just walked past his nose.
As a clairvoyant, Tieran Jones has given up on men and their lack of understanding her gift—until Caelan. The man ignites her passion, sets off a vision of a gruesome wolf attack, then shows up in her bed. In wolf form. To top it all off, he keeps insisting she’s his mate.
When the attacks continue, Tieran’s visions evolve and point in one direction. Caelan’s twin brother. With a lack of physical evidence, Caelan must depend on Tieran’s sight for clues. An act making her a prime target.
Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, and violence.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Seeing Eye Mate:
“Eight ball, corner pocket.”
Caelan Graham tipped the bottle of Bud Light to his lips and took a long drag as he pointed his cue stick toward his chosen spot. He tried to alleviate some of the tension strumming through his charged body by rolling his head on his shoulders. Tonight was a full moon and he was restless. He needed a good, long fuck and a run through the woods, preferably in that order. Since he’d come here tonight to fill Eli in on the latest pack developments, it didn’t look like either the fuck or the run was going to happen in the immediate future. Instead, he’d settle for winning another round of pool.
He set the bottle on the edge of the table and lined up his shot, rocking the stick three times before striking the cue ball. With a satisfying clack, it careened into the eight ball, knocking it into the pocket.
“I win. Again,” he said flatly. This was getting way too easy.
“Goddamn it!”
Caelan ignored the pissed off shout of his younger-by-two-minutes brother, Eli. Maybe tomorrow night he’d go for the run. The woods around his and Eli’s ranch had been calling to him for days now. Their land sat about an hour outside of St. Louis. It was close enough to the city for practical purposes, yet far enough away from urban sprawl to provide hundreds of acres of wooded area for his kind to roam freely.
The steady flow of jobs at Graham Securities had kept Caelan too busy to even think about shifting lately. Not to mention the ongoing duties as his pack’s Prime.
He held his palm up just in time for Eli to slap a dollar bill into it. They’d long since given up playing for bigger money, or Eli had rather, for the simple fact he lost all the time. Shaking off his longing to slip into wolf form for the moment, Caelan chuckled and scooped up his beer. He headed to one of the few empty tables in the typical-for-a-Friday-night packed bar.
“How’d it go last night?” Eli asked, yanking a chair around. He straddled it and placed his arms along the top of the backrest.
So much for the happy moment. Caelan didn’t even want to think about how the pack meeting went last night. Or how it had ended with a knockdown, drag-out fight. But since Eli had been on another assignment and hadn’t made it to the meeting, Caelan had to inform him of the situation. He cocked his head and leaned closer so they could talk without being overheard. No one seemed to be listening. They were too busy drinking, dancing and having a good time. “Jared Ramsey’s mate was killed two nights ago. She’s the third one in two weeks.”
The Ramsey pack was settled in Junction City, about a hundred miles from the Graham pack. It hadn’t taken long for word to spread about what had befallen the young woman, especially not with Jared being the Prime’s son.
As the Graham Prime, it was Caelan’s duty to protect every member beneath him. So far his pack hadn’t been touched by the brutality of the three attacks.
“What kind of fucking sicko would do that to an innocent woman? Hell, three women.” Eli smacked his hand on the table, making it wobble precariously. Their beers skittered across the top, nearly taking a fatal nosedive off the edge.
Caelan grabbed both sides of the small, round table before it collapsed and made him lose his one drink for the night.
“Shut up, bro. You want the whole damn place to hear you?” he growled.
“He killed another one of our mates, Cael,” Eli hissed.
Caelan nodded in agreement, understanding the implied “our” encompassed all mates in the shifter community. “I know what he did, E.” Every pack for three states knew what the asshole had done. It was finding out who he was that had them all chasing their tails. Literally. “The elders have asked all the packs to unite so we can pass information and better protect our mates.”
Talking about mates made Caelan suddenly glad he hadn’t found his yet. Yet being the operative word. The pack elders were pressing hard for him to do so and ensure the next generation of Prime. Hell even Eli was nudging him in the same direction. Of course Eli didn’t want the responsibility of Prime, which would be his should anything happen to Caelan.
The situation gave Caelan the ultimate enticement to stay away from women right now. He didn’t need the added responsibility of protecting a mate from the same person he was hunting. His brain knew that; his cock argued every step of the way. The insane growing compulsion to fuck was making Caelan growl and snap at everyone he came across. Especially when one of the elders had suggested to him that his need meant he was getting closer to finding his mate.
Thus the fight outside the pack meeting last night. Everyone’s tempers were already hot with the news of yet another attack. It had only taken a not-so-private conversation he’d picked up on for Caelan’s overloaded nerves to explode.
“Methinks our Prime needs to get laid,” Caelan had overheard.
He ground his fist into his thigh. Damn Michael Hayward to hell and back for being the one shifter in their pack able to pick up on Caelan’s need to get laid. No, that wasn’t entirely true, the elders thought so also, but their flat-out innuendos didn’t piss him off near as much as the bastard Hayward did. And leaving a bruise the size of Texas on Hayward’s jaw hadn’t eased the pounding need to fuck a woman either.
“Ooowee. Now that is one fine-looking specimen.”
Caelan snapped his attention back to Eli. God, but the man could change a subject quick. Of course, since Caelan’s mind had been on getting himself a woman too, he couldn’t fault his brother much. Caelan grinned. Having a woman, not keeping her, just having her. For the night. Or two, maybe. Not forever. Not now, anyway. Later.
Eli slapped his hand down on the table again. Caelan snatched his beer and balanced it on his knee while his fool brother stared and slobbered at someone over his shoulder. Caelan didn’t even bother to turn around.
“Cael, brother, I think you’re going to have to find someone else for that job tomorrow morning. I’m gonna be busy with that little filly over there.”
Caelan snorted. Born identical, neither of them ever had trouble attracting the opposite sex. More so for Caelan, being Prime. Females, both human and shifter, were always vying for his attention, but then, the humans didn’t know what he was.
“She’s close to her heat. Hot damn is she gonna be sweet.” Eli rubbed his hands together like a kid at Christmas.
Caelan had to admit a female in heat or even within a few days of it, was nearly irresistible, wolf or human. Any babies born to a human woman, like he and Eli, were considered special, as they could control their shift and change to their wolf form whenever they chose. A pure blood shifter was forced to deal with their transformation once a month, on the night of the full moon.
Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you loo
ked at it, the only way to impregnate a human was for her to be your mate. That in itself virtually ensured an offspring.
Despite his desire to avoid women for the foreseeable future, Caelan found himself sniffing the air. The fruity scent of a very alluring woman wafted across his nose, and Caelan froze. The hair on the back of his neck rose and every muscle in his body tightened in response. Including his cock, which stood at attention like every good soldier ought to, demanding to be buried as deep as it could get in the woman’s pussy.
“Son of a bitch,” he said succinctly. He dropped his chin to his chest, closed his eyes and counted to ten. Then he begged whatever god was listening to make this situation a dream instead of the reality he feared it to be.
He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that it wasn’t.
Eli droned on beside him. “Mmm-mmm. It’s gonna be a long night…”
Caelan couldn’t contain the canines that lengthened and sharpened inside his mouth. A low growl emanated from his throat as he listened to his brother continue to talk about the woman Cael had yet to look at. He instinctively knew the woman he smelled and the object of Eli’s current wet dream were one and the same.
“I thought you wanted Nikki,” he snarled.
Caelan glanced up to see a different kind of heated desire cross Eli’s face. A look that changed from I’m-gonna-roll-in-the-sheets-for-fun-tonight to she’s-mine-forever. Caelan wondered if there was more to the story with Nikki than Eli was letting on.
Eli stood, clearly shaking off whatever had been in his head a second ago, ready to swoop in on his prey, a stupid grin splitting his face.
Caelan reached out and grabbed his twin’s arm. “No.”
Eli tried to shake him loose, his smile slipping. “What the hell, Bro?”
“She’s mine.” His voice rumbled out of his chest, and he grimaced. He looked up at Eli, begging with his eyes for his brother to understand.
He did.
“Damn it.” Eli slung himself back into his chair, pouting and jostling the table again. “Ain’t this just the perfect fuckin’ time!”
Caelan had to disagree with him. This was the worst time to finally find his mate.
Something dead this way comes…
That Voodoo You Do
© 2010 Jodi Redford
That Old Black Magic, Book 1
For ten long years Griffin Trudeau has managed to keep his paws off Jemma Finnegan, best friend and leading star of his kinkiest fantasies. As her appointed cat familiar, indulging those fantasies with the delectable witch is strictly forbidden. But when Jemma shows up at his door with seduction in mind, control goes right out the window.
Too late he realizes making love to Jemma is the trigger that launches a zombie apocalypse.
Jemma’s been dealt a double whammy: she’s just discovered she’s a witch. And Griff has been hiding whiskers and a tail. Oh, and if her life wasn’t crazy enough, a dead voodoo queen needs her blood to raise a legion of zombies.
There’s one plan that might work to increase Jemma’s powers so she can put an end to the looming holocaust. A sexy threesome with Griff and Logan Scott, a werewolf familiar with a history of rubbing Griff’s fur the wrong way. A cat and a wolf playing nice, much less sharing? It’ll take a miracle.
Warning: A witch, tiger and wolf doing naughty things. A dead voodoo queen doing evil things. And zombies doing zombie things. Get your shovels ready.
Enjoy the following excerpt for That Voodoo You Do:
“So what’s going on in there?”
Logan propped his elbow against the frame, giving her a close-up view of his barbed-wire tat. Now that she thought about it, the symbolism seemed appropriate. Tangling with the lusty werewolf was bound to leave a few scratches. “Just Clarissa taking care of some coven business. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over, darlin’.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That managed to be both evasive and sexist.”
“Damn, and here I wasn’t even tryin’.” He chuckled. Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, she reached around him for the doorknob. He scooted sideways, forcing her hand to smack into his abdomen instead. His bare, firm-as-marble abdomen. Her fingertips brushed the warm hollow of skin resting just above the low rise of his button fly. Sucking in a sharp breath, she yanked her arm away and shuffled back several steps.
Logan’s irises shimmered with amusement and heat. “Don’t stop now. Things were just getting interesting.”
“I, uh, just have to go and…um…yeah.” She spun and stumbled in the direction of the kitchen before she did something really stupid, like follow the silky trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of Logan’s jeans. With her tongue. That thought sent her tripping through the entry of the kitchen. She jerked to a halt when she spotted Griff in front of the stove, stirring the contents of a large stockpot. He was notably shirtless too, which put the mouthwatering expanse of his back on dazzling display. She stared at the muscles shifting beneath all that golden, velvety skin, her suspicions bubbling. It was too damn weird and convenient that both Logan and Griff were standing around half naked all of a sudden. Unless some devious shirt monster was making its rounds in the neighborhood, there was definitely something afoot.
And where was everyone else, anyway? She craned her neck, scoping the dining alcove for signs of Ms. Peach or Gloria.
“Hey, baby. You’re just in time for a taste test.”
She whipped her head around at Griff’s zippy tone. Now she knew something was up. Griff didn’t do chipper, particularly not thirty minutes after snarling at her like a pissed-off Tony the Tiger. “What the hell is going on?”
Griff tried for a guileless look. Oh yeah, he didn’t do innocent well either. “I’m getting lunch ready.”
“Without your shirt on?”
“It’s hot in here.”
Well…that was certainly true. Even without Griff’s muscle-icious torso making her girl parts all warm and tingly, there was no denying the temperature in the kitchen hovered between muggy and melt-your-panties-off miserable.
Griff dug a spoon out of the drawer and ladled some of the sauce he’d been stirring. “Tell me if this needs anything.”
Her intuition warning her to be on the lookout for any sneakiness, she hesitantly crossed to the industrial-sized, stainless-steel stove. She tried to wrestle the spoon from Griff, but he insisted on feeding her the concoction himself. Almost from the instant the tapestry of flavors met her tongue, a seductive ripple of heat unfurled inside her, tightening her nipples beneath the sundress’s snug, smocked bodice. Griff’s thumb traced the outline of her lower lip. Holding her gaze, he lifted his finger and slowly licked it clean. If the humidity didn’t melt the crotch of her panties, Griff demonstrating his perfect oral skills sure as hell would.
“What do you think? A pinch more salt and pepper?”
She stared into Griff’s dark-as-sin pupils. Clearly he was waiting for her to answer, but damn if she could concentrate on anything beyond the flush of arousal making her dizzy with hunger. Only it wasn’t food she was lusting for at the moment. Knees wobbling, she clutched the counter. “W—what’s in that sauce?”
“Butter, egg, milk. The usual Béchamel ingredients.”
Sure, and a liberal dash of horny goat weed and Viagra thrown in for good measure. She had no idea why Griff was trying to get her juiced up for sex. He knew damn well that all he had to do was breathe and she’d gladly tackle him to the floor and ride him until they were both properly yippee-ki-yayed out. Which left only one possibility.
He was about to spring some hellaciously scary sexual request on her. If a midget and a monkey strolled in right now, she was so out of th—
“Looks like the party is revving into high gear.” Logan ambled into the kitchen, his expression wicked and wolfish.
Her focus shifted between the two gorgeous specimens of male flesh on decadent display, and the puzzle pieces began locking together. Oh, sweet Jesus. Her heart franti
cally tap dancing, she snatched the embroidered dishtowel resting on the counter and blotted her perspiring forehead. Either the heat and the sauce were getting to her, or Griff and Logan. More than likely, all four.
She shot Griff an accusing glare. “Now I get it. You think the three of us having sex will fix everything, and I won’t have to worry about Nettie luring me to the dark side. Did it even occur to you to give me a say in this decision?”
Griff thunked the spoon on the stovetop before giving her his full attention. “Christ, do you honestly think you wouldn’t get a say? Damn it, you know I’d never force you into doing anything you don’t want.”
She plunked one hand on her hip and waved the other hand at the stockpot. “But you weren’t averse to a little cheating, courtesy of your pasta à la sex sauce.”
“I just wanted you to feel more comfortable. Relaxed.”
“Turned on,” she added, arching a brow.
A guilty flush spread from Griff’s jaw to his cheeks. Chuffing a laugh, Logan joined them at the stove. “Catman had good intentions, sugar. The potion in the sauce is designed to loosen inhibitions and supersensitize erogenous zones you didn’t even know you had.” He flicked a glance in Griff’s direction. “Maybe you better give her a demonstration.”
She snorted. “Trust me, he already did.”
Logan’s mouth curled in wicked devilment. “You only got a small taste of the potion’s capabilities. To truly appreciate its gift to the fullest, you need to ingest it in a more…intimate manner.” Before she knew what he was up to, Logan unlaced the ties securing the sundress to her shoulders and pushed the bodice down, exposing her breasts. Gasping, she shot him a startled look. He awarded her a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna enjoy this.”
Something warm and sticky stroked her nipples. She jumped at the unexpected sensation, her gaze shooting to Griff’s sauce-coated fingers as they painted her areolas with the creamy substance. He lowered his head and followed the path of his fingers with his tongue, sparking a new conflagration of fire inside her. She shivered and Griff peered up at her, his eyes blazing. Curving an arm around her waist, he stood and claimed her mouth in a hot, devouring kiss. He tasted of Béchamel and exotic spice. Of magic and sex. She wrapped her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, ravenous for more. Their tongues rasped in a mating dance and she wiggled against him, her nipples aching for the sumptuous devotion of Griff’s mouth.
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