Like she’d miss having the clap.
“Well, don’t worry. If I find myself overwrought with loneliness, desperate with despair, super low on self-esteem, I’ll be sure to pick up the phone and call!” JC yelled after him as the door slammed.
Good girl.
Looking down at him, she tugged his ear gently. “You ate my steak, you heathen.”
And saved your pretty, pretty ass.
“But I’ll forgive you, because you did get rid of Jess and he’s not easy to get rid of. So I guess I’m not eating steak for dinner, am I?”
He nuzzled her hand to show his remorse, waiting for forgiveness.
JC chuckled, the warmth of it slipping into his ears. “You beast. Listen here, Knight in Shining Armor, whatever I put in your bowl is yours. If it’s on a plate, you can be pretty sure it’s mine, unless the plate is on the floor. That makes it yours. Got it?”
Well, he couldn’t in all good conscience consent to that, now could he? He was a carnivore. Max avoided her eyes and nuzzled her hand again instead.
She smiled down at him, her blue, almond-shaped eyes crinkled at the corners. “You know, that was some pretty impressive stuff there, Fluff. Very chivalrous of you to sense my discomfort and act on it. Now if only you walked on two legs instead of four, we’d make the perfect couple, don’t you think?”
* * * *
After watching three solid hours of a Downton Abbey DVD while sitting at her feet, Max got tired and trotted down to JC’s bedroom, where he sprawled out on her bed, tucking his paws under her pillows.
The blankets were a rumpled mess after he’d given himself a good back scratch, but he’d fully absorbed her sweet smell of sunshine and cinnamon. He lay there for a while, attuning his senses to her unique scent, looking around the room at the pictures on her dresser of her parents and friends, the dozens of shoes lining her open closet.
He’d spent an inordinate amount of time wondering what she looked like in the skimpy, pink, sheer nightgown hanging on the hook inside her closet door.
“Hey.” JC patted his belly. He fought off his lustful thoughts and slowly opened his eyes with a yawn.
“This,” she tapped the bed with a sleepy smile, “is mine, cookie. That,” she pointed to the mat on the floor, “is yours.”
Max lifted his head to see her more clearly. She had a towel wrapped around her head and one wrapped around her body.
Naked…she was naked beneath the blue towel. Steak and a beautiful naked woman he couldn’t touch just yet, all in one night. It was too much.
The gentle swell of her hip brushed against his legs as she sat next to him. Pouring lotion into her hand, JC smoothed it over her calves, working her way up to thighs he just knew were silky-soft.
He sniffed the air. Cucumber-melon. Nice. Her hands made circular motions, rubbing in the cream higher and higher. Lowering the towel, she let it rest at her waist as she dabbed some lotion on her shoulders. Her breasts thrust upward, her taut nipples beading from the cool air.
“Hey, Fluff,” she said.
He turned his head, averting his guilty eyes. “I told you to get on the floor, handsome.” JC stood and pointed again to his “bed.”
Max slunk off the bed, sliding to the floor and curling his big body on the mat.
Letting the towel fall to the floor, JC grabbed her nightgown from the hook inside the closet and slid it over her creamy skin, the glow of the lamp shading her soft contours.
His groin tightened and he tensed at the familiar call of his body to shift. He willed his muscles to relax and obey, focusing on remaining in his wolf form. Because shifting could be bad—not to mention traumatizing.
It was all he could do to keep from showing her he was no stray dog from a shelter. But patience was required here. He didn’t understand much more than JC was his prophesized mate, and he was wildly attracted to her. He felt her inside him. He instantly knew her soul.
He’d never believed the stories before. All the mumbo-jumbo about how you felt your life mate, like an invisible tether; you were joined and you just knew.
But he believed them now—because he knew.
Now he just had to find a way to get to know the rest of her without scaring the shit out of her. And dying. There was still the damn threat of death hanging over his head.
It wasn’t going to be easy. He couldn’t just say, “Hey, JC, glad you adopted me at the pound. Thanks for rescuing me from my first round with death. By the way, did I mention I’m not just any wolf? I’m a werewolf. Your werewolf, baby. Wanna mate? Because round two with death is coming up.”
He especially couldn’t say that to a human.
Something he still didn’t understand. How could his life mate be a human? Had some of his pack mated with humans and turned them? He’d always been taught that wasn’t allowed. Ever. This hurdle had to have something to do with the curse.
Turning off the bedside lamp, JC scratched his muzzle before climbing over him and getting into bed. Her hand hung down over the edge of the mattress. He licked her palm, savoring the soft texture of her skin on his tongue.
“Night, Fluffy. Welcome home,” she whispered, her sultry voice slicing through the velvety darkness.
Goodnight.
~
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About Dakota Cassidy
Dakota Cassidy is a USA Today bestselling author with over thirty books. She writes laugh-out-loud romantic comedy, grab-some-ice erotic romance, hot and sexy alpha males, paranormal shifters, contemporary kick-ass women, and more.
Dakota was invited by Bravo TV to be the Bravoholic for a week, wherein she snarked the hell out of all the Bravo shows. She received a starred review from Publishers Weekly for Talk Dirty to Me, won a Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice Award for Kiss and Hell, along with many review site recommended reads and reviewer top pick awards.
Dakota lives in the gorgeous state of Oregon with her real life hero and her dogs, and she loves hearing from readers!
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eBooks by Dakota Cassidy
Witchless In Seattle Mysteries, a Paranormal Cozy Mystery series
1. Witch Slapped
2. Quit Your Witchin'
3. Dewitched
Wolf Mates, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series
1. An American Werewolf In Hoboken
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WROKCEQ
2. What’s New, Pussycat?
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3. Gotta Have Faith
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A Paris, Texas Romance, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series
1. Witched At Birth
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2. What Not to Were
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3. Witch Is the New Black
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4. White Witchmas
Non-Series
Whose Bride Is She Anyway?
>
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B011AEY9GK
Polanski Brothers: Home of Eternal Rest
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Accidentally Paranormal, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series
Interview With an Accidental—a free introductory guide to the girls of the Accidentals
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11. Accidentally Ever After
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The Hell, a Paranormal Romantic Comedy series
1. Kiss and Hell
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The Plum Orchard, a Contemporary Romantic Comedy series
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The Ex-Trophy Wives, a Contemporary Romantic Comedy series
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2. Burning Down The Spouse
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Fangs of Anarchy, a Paranormal Urban Fantasy series
1. Forbidden Alpha
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2. Outlaw Alpha
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B013TRWDAA
Dakota recommends… Melanie James
“Outrageously funny, whacky tales are Melanie James’ signature stamp in the world of paranormal romance!”
Hopeful Leigh
Literal Leigh Romance Diaries, Book 3
Prologue
I never imagined that I would actually look forward to boredom. I’m not talking about that slightly bored, Sunday afternoon, magical feeling of nothing better to do kind. No, I’m talking a good week’s worth of pure lethargic, sluggish bliss that would make a two-toed sloth look like a highly motivated Tony Robbins devotee. I wanted an endless cycle of read, eat, nap, write, and repeat. All things considered, I justifiably hoped for it. I needed a break. My sanity needed some time to recover. Up to this point, my summer had been a string of no-holds-barred supernatural chaos. I had come to grips with the fact that I was, in fact, a witch. I even had some new witch friends to add to my tragic circle of unfortunates, otherwise known as my best friends.
Speaking of best friends—when it comes to best friends, I don’t think that we really choose each other. I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps we are so close because we have somehow been drawn together. Yes, drawn together. In a way that shipwreck survivors might find themselves. “Oh, another single girl. Are you trying to maintain your independence, self-determination, and identity, but yet, still hoping for that swept-off-your-feet romance? Here, take a life ring and join us on our desperate bid for survival.”
In any case, the rest of my summer break certainly held no promise for much needed mental recovery time, which is exactly what usually happens to me. I never quite end up with what I expect. Things would be anything but boring. A series of seemingly unrelated and random events kicked off a chain reaction that had cataclysmic consequences. Looking back from the time I had first gotten my magical writing desk until now, I should have realized that, in fact, everything has been related in some way. It was like a volcano growing an ominous dome that got larger by the day, ready to explode with a shower of magical chaos that would envelop my friends and my love for Hunter.
I don’t believe in destiny. I would prefer to think that we all write our own future. But what if someone or something decides to interfere? Would we even know? Maybe I am right, and we are in charge of our own destiny. Now here’s the wildcard—that doesn’t mean we all don’t play a role in shaping each other’s future. As they say, no one person is an island. I’m perfectly fine with that as long as everyone is playing nice, and we help write each other’s Happily Ever After.
So the big question comes down to this—what if that someone or something that pokes around in your destiny is anything but nice? And they write your future to fulfill their dark plans? Can you take back control of your own destiny? I was about to find out firsthand. On an adventure that would carry me and my friends to the other side of the world to battle an evil witch and her dark minions. No shit.
Chapter 1
Two Books In Progress
After I returned from New Orleans, I spent a good deal of time talking with Hunter on the phone. He was excited about the new police academy program he was in, even though it felt to me like he had been shipped off to some far away country. I’d have to wait until the first week of August to enjoy the feeling of being wrapped in his arms once again. I needed to fill my time with something constructive—creative.
I came across an online advertisement from one of the smaller subsidiaries of a big publishing house. Their imprint was strictly for the mass market romance books, the kind you see in supermarkets and variety stores. The ad was a solicitation for submissions in a few of the more popular romance subjects—paranormal shifters, billionaires, erotic, and cowboys. I couldn’t think of a more fun way to pass my time than to write. I figured I could kick out two short books and then submit them. My urge to write was renewed. With the exciting possibility of getting one or both picked up for publication, it gave me a little incentive to complete a manuscript and submit it. My dream of becoming a summertime slug was in peril from my own hand, and my secret aspiration to become a best-selling author.
I sat down and talked it over with Luna. “So, which of these themes should I pick to write a story about? I’ve read some of the billionaire books, and they rank as some of my favorites.” It’s true. Let’s face it. It’s easy to get caught up in the fantasy of a hot romance story that involves a man with unlimited resources. The kind of man that can wield the kind of power that transcends the limits of us mere mortal, working class people. And not only did they ooze money and power, they were incredibly handsome men with impeccable taste. The key thing to getting yourself into those books is to first imagine that you’ve gone through a magical metamorphosis so you actually look the part. You know what I mean. It really kills the fantasy when you suddenly get an image of yourself disembarking from a multi-million dollar yacht in Monaco—yet you see yourself dressed as you are, in your faded comfy yoga pants—that have never met a yoga mat—and that old friend, the t-shirt so perfectly worn out that you could eat a pygmy hippo and it would still feel relaxed. If you’re like me, you may even have a couple of fresh drops of ice cream on your chin. I eat it right from the container when I’m reading. Yes, generating that kind of visual completely breaks all the rules of fantasy. It kills the mood, dead on arrival.
While I loved a number of the billionaire series, I didn’t want to get caught in the trap of having a story that would be too close to something written by my favorite go-to romance authors. “Hmm�
�I like to write erotic, but I need a good premise. Erotic, yet something with paranormal.” I asked Luna, “Another shifter story, maybe? But it has to tie into the billionaire theme.”
“Meow. Meow.”
“Billionaires. Werewolves. Were-naires?”
“Meee-oww.” It was a very disagreeing meow.
“I know, that sounds like a name for some weird body hair removal product. Ugh.”
“Meow.”
“I got it! Billion-weres!”
“Meow, meow.”
And that’s how I came up with my newest work, Bangin’ the Billion-were, an erotic tale about an extremely wealthy werewolf.
The other story had been something I thought about for a couple of months. It started one night when I was thinking about bats. They scare the hell out of me. I hate walking in my neighborhood at night because I would always see those furry, winged, rodent bastards flapping around the streetlights. So, I was trying to remember. What time of the year do the bats start to leave for the caves for their winter hibernation? The whole biology of hibernation has always fascinated me. I thought about Gertie and how she had been frozen. If she could be frozen for so long and then be just fine, there must be some method inside of all humans to be able to hibernate, just like those bats in their caves. Who knows? Maybe it’s something that at one time humans developed to get through the ice age. Later on humans would have lost the ability, because they just didn’t need it anymore.
But what if some humans had the ability to hibernate for as many years as they needed to? And what if these were the ones that survived the ice age, not by migrating south but by staying in the ice? Imagine this race of humans only came out of hibernation to go on a feeding frenzy, and then they went back to sleep. Now there wouldn’t be much to eat, so they would have to travel during this feeding. Perhaps they would attack other humans for their blood since they had become completely anemic from hibernating in ice caves. Their bodies would have developed accordingly. They would be spooky white with little to no hair on their heads. Pale, thin, and gaunt creatures that had a mouth full of sharp teeth, maybe they even formed fangs. I made myself shudder at the image I had envisioned. They’d probably have white eyes, maybe even red ones, just like an albino rabbit. My imagination terrifies me sometimes.
How Nina Got Her Fang Back: Accidental Quickie (Accidentally Paranormal Series Book 13) Page 19
