The Merman King
Page 10
Love Potions Excerpt
“Ly-di-ah! I sit beneath your window, laaaass, singing ’cause I loooove your a—”“
“For the love of St. Francis of Assisi, someone call a vet. There is an injured animal screaming in pain outside,” Charlotte interrupted the flow of music in ill-humor.
Lydia lifted her forehead from the kitchen table. Her windows and doors were all locked, and yet Erik’s endlessly verbose singing penetrated the barrier of glass and wood with ease.
Charlotte held her head and blinked heavily. Her red-rimmed eyes were filled with the all too poignant look of a hangover. She took a seat at the table and laid her head down. Her moan sounded something like, “I’m never moving again.”
“You need fluids,” Lydia prescribed, getting up to pour unsweetened herbal tea from the pitcher in the fridge. She’d mixed it especially for her friend. It was Gramma Annabelle’s hangover recipe of willow bark, peppermint, carrot, and ginger. The old lady always had a fresh supply of it in the house while she was alive. Apparently, being a natural witch also meant in partaking in natural liquors. Annabelle had kept a steady supply of moonshine stashed in the basement. If the concert didn’t stop soon she might try to find an old bottle.
“Ly-di-ah!”
“Omigod. Kill me,” Charlotte moaned. “No. Kill him. Then kill me.”
“Ly-di-ah!”
Erik had been singing for over an hour. At first, he’d tried to come inside. She’d not invited him and the barrier spell sent him sprawling back into the yard. He didn’t seem to mind as he found a seat on some landscaping timbers and began his serenade. The last time she’d asked him to be quiet, he’d gotten louder and overly enthusiastic. In fact, she’d been too scared to pull back the curtains for a clearer look, but she was pretty sure he’d been dancing on her lawn, shaking his kilt.
“Omigod,” Charlotte muttered, pushing up and angrily going to a window. Then grimacing, she said, “Is he wearing a tux jacket with his kilt?”
“Don’t let him see you,” Lydia cried out in a panic. It was too late. The song began with renewed force.
“He’s…” Charlotte frowned. “I think it’s dancing.”
Since the damage was done, Lydia joined Charlotte at the window. Erik grinned. He lifted his arms to the side and kicked his legs, bouncing around the yard like a kid on too much sugar. “Maybe it’s a traditional Scottish dance?”
Both women tilted their heads in unison as his kilt kicked up to show his perfectly formed ass.
“He’s not wearing…” Charlotte began.
“I know. He doesn’t,” Lydia answered. Damn, the man had a fine body. Too bad Malina’s trick had turned him insane.
To find out more about Michelle’s books visit www.MichellePillow.com
The Savage King Excerpt
Cat-Shifter Romance
by Michelle M. Pillow
Lords of the Var Book One by Michelle M. Pillow
Bestselling Cat-shifter Romance Series
Cat-shifting King Kirill knows he must do his duty by his people. When his father unexpectedly dies, it’s his destiny to take the throne and all of the responsibility that entails. What he hadn’t prepared for is the troublesome prisoner that’s now his to deal with.
Undercover Agent Ulyssa is no man’s captive. Trapped in a primitive forest awaiting pickup, she’s going to make the best out of a bad situation…which doesn’t include falling for the seductions of a king.
About Lords of the Var (Books 1-5)
You met their father, King Attor, in Dragon Lords Books 1-4, now meet the Var Princes!
The cat-shifter princes were raised to not believe in love, especially love for one woman, and they will do everything in their power to live up to their father’s expectations. Oh, how the mighty will fall.
The Savage King Excerpt
Kirill watched the door to his bedroom open. He’d been sitting in the dark, trying to relieve the stress headache that had built behind his eyes for the last week. The pain started at the base of his skull and radiated up to his temples until he could hardly see straight.
A heavy responsibility had been thrust on his shoulders, a responsibility he really hadn’t prepared himself for, the welfare of the Var people. King Attor had not left him in a good position. He’d rallied the people to the brink of war, convinced them that the Draig were their enemy, and even went so far as to attack the Draig royal family.
Kirill wanted to see peace in the land. However, he knew the facts didn’t bode well for it. The Draig had a long list of grievances against King Attor and the Var kingdom.
Before his death, the king had ordered an attack on the four Draig princes, all of which ended horribly for the Var. The worst was when Prince Yusef was stabbed in the back, a most cowardly embarrassment for the Var guard who did it. If he hadn’t been executed in the Draig prisons, he would’ve been ostracized from the Var community. Luckily, Prince Yusef survived or they’d already be at battle.
Attor had also arranged for the kidnapping of Yusef’s new bride. The Draig Princess Olena had been rescued, or that too would’ve led to war. The old king had even tried to poison Princess Morrigan, the future Draig queen, on two separate occasions. She too lived. And those were only a few of the offenses Kirill knew about in the few weeks before King Attor’s death. He could just imagine what he didn’t know.
Kirill sighed, feeling very tired. He’d known since birth that the day would come when he’d be expected to step up and lead the Var as their new king. He just hadn’t expected it to be for another hundred or so years. His father had been a hard man, whom he’d foolishly believed was invincible.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” His lovely houseguest’s whisper drew his complete attention from his heavy thoughts.
Ulyssa bent over like she expected him to answer to the insulting call. He dropped his fingers from his temple into his lap, and a quizzical smile came to his lips. As he watched her, he wasn’t sure if he was angered or amused by her words.
“Are you in here, you little furball?” she said, a little louder.
She wore his clothes. Never had the outfit looked sexier. His jaw tightened in masculine interest, as he unabashedly looked her over. All too well did he remember the softness of her body against his and the gentle, offering pleasure of her sweet lips. She’d made soft whimpering noises when he’d touched her, yielding, purring sounds in the back of her throat. Even with the aid of nef, he was surprised by how easily and confidently she melted into him. The Var were wild, passionate people and were drawn to the same qualities in others. He suspected she’d be an untamed lover.
Too bad she’d belonged to his father first. In his mind, that made her completely untouchable though none would dare question his claim if he were to take her to his bed. Technically, by Var law, she belonged to him until he chose to release her. For an insane moment, he thought about keeping her as a lover. He knew he wouldn’t, but the thought was entertaining.
Kirill’s grin deepened. Ulyssa strode across his home to the bathroom door with an irritated scowl. It was obvious she didn’t see him in the darkened corner, watching her. He detected her engaging smell from across the room, the smell of a woman’s desire. It stirred his blood, making his limbs heavy with arousal. And, for the first time since his father’s death, his headache relieved itself.
“Hum, maybe I’m looking too high. I’m sure there has to be a little cat door here somewhere. Come here, little kitty. Where are you hiding?”
His slight smile fell at her words. It was easy to detect her mocking tone.
“Where’s your little kitty door, huh?” Ulyssa whispered to herself, her blue gaze searching around in the dark.
Kirill grimaced in further displeasure. He watched her open the door to his weapons cabinet. Her eyes rounded, and he thought she might take one. She didn’t. Instead, she nodded in appreciation before closing the door and continuing her search for an exit.
She stopped at a narrow window by his kitchen doorway. Her neck cran
ed to the side, as she tried to see out over the distance. Kirill knew she looked at the forest. From under her breath, he heard her vehement whisper, “Where exactly did you little fur balls bring me? Ugh, I need to get out of this flea trap, even if I have to fight every one of you cowardly felines to do it. I’ve fought species twice as big and three times as frightening. A couple of little kitty cats don’t scare me.”
If this insolent woman wanted to play tough, oh, he’d play. Curling gracefully forward, Kirill shifted before his hands even touched the ground. He let one thick paw land silently on the floor, followed by a second. Short black fur rippled over his tanned flesh, blending him into the shadows. His clothes fell from his body, and he lowered his head as he crept forward. A low sound of warning started in the back of his throat. He was livid.
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