A shadow crossed his eyes. “I cannot allow you to expose my secret,” he said, nodding at the statue. “I wonder if perhaps you might consider changing your thesis topic. You may have full access to any other pieces in my private collection.”
I looked around, my heart beating wildly at the prospect of what other secret finds might be waiting. I could catalogue his collection, perhaps. And I could visit the stele whenever I wished.
Placing my palms on the cool, hard skin of his chest, I smiled up at him. “I would love that,” I said.
Athan wrapped his arms around my waist and smiled back, eyes flashing.
“Of course you realize that means you would have to spend a lot of time here. In my home. With me.” His head dipped.
I raised my face, eyes focused on his mouth, imagining the pleasure it would bring all over again. “Hours,” I whispered.
“Days.”
“It could take weeks or even months,” I said, anticipating long nights spent exploring the mansion’s secrets as well as every curve and angle of Athan’s fine body.
“Years,” he breathed, searching my expression for an answer.
“Years,” I agreed and his mouth possessed mine once more.
Wolf Bait
by Virginia Nelson
Riley
The whole world is only a click away. That was the big perk of being online most of your day. Everyone you wanted to get in touch with, everything you could ever want to buy, available at one simple click of the mouse.
As I sat in front of my laptop and sipped coffee, I checked my social networks. A writer’s worst enemy, I knew, was procrastination. Sadly, so was my brain dribbling out my ears to lie in a puddle on the floor, which was what I felt I was headed towards if I didn’t leave the bloodbath on the page for a few minutes.
Writing suspense is fun. Murdering off whoever ticks me off in any given day in brutally creative ways is probably the best therapy in the world. But when characters you are attached to, characters you have spent months trying to get into the head of, die in a way that is surprisingly horrible to even you, the author, it is like losing a friend. Probably that meant I needed a whole new kind of therapy but I self medicated with Facebook.
Just now, I had hundreds of friends, again, one keystroke away. Sadly, I spent more time writing about life lately than living it myself.
Then everything changed with the link to bacon soap.
Blinking at the screen, I read the link again.
Bacon soap.
I had done research on pheromones and how scent affected men. Most stories have a love angle, after all.
Some angles are physically impossible, but still…
I knew men liked the smell of bacon. I choked in laughter. But who would buy soap that smelled of bacon? The same page also offered bacon mints. Mints?
But it got me thinking. Men loved the smell of bacon. What would be the male response to a woman who smelled like bacon? We spend hours showering, deodorizing, spritzing ourselves to smell good to, in theory, attract a mate.
But men aren’t crazy about the smell of flowers. How many men do you find in the park stopping to bury their snoots in a rose bush?
Fry up some bacon and they come running out of the woodwork.
I had the feeling it was an angle.
Looking around my empty apartment, I blew out a sigh. It wasn’t as if I was attracting many men from here.
Standing, I went to a mirror. The reflection that bounced back was almost startling in its averageness.
I was medium height, medium build, with some non-descript hair color that couldn’t even have the decency to be either blond or brown.
My hair was neither. The best adjective description even I could come up with was maybe a dirty honey.
Peering closer, I stared at my own gray eyes. Even they were mundane.
But if I smelled like bacon…
I would call it an experiment…
Walking with determination back to my keyboard, I yanked my credit card out of my purse before plopping back in my writing chair. If nothing else, I was sure I could make some kind of story out of it.
Bacon soap and bacon mints…
And then I would go out.
And see if anyone responded.
Basil
I had been a shapeshifter for longer than I cared to remember. The duality of my nature never bothered me. Not one of those whining men, made so popular by television and media these days, I wasn’t ever ashamed of what I was.
If you are a monster, you’re a monster. Get over yourself.
Raking a hand through my hair, I scanned the club. From the balcony, I could see everyone who dared come into my den. Foolish humans, scraps of clothing hanging negligently on their too skinny hides, slopped back drinks and tried to get laid nightly, filling my pockets in their desperation to find a mate.
I wasn’t looking for a mate. I had better things to do with my days. Money was power. Blood was power. Getting laid was something you did to fill a basic need, like eating. The rest of that garbled love crap that my pack had been spouting lately…
I rolled my eyes and was glad no one was near to see me.
Grown men, men who had been around hundreds of year, whipped by a good lay.
Thank whatever god watched over the furry that I wasn’t an ass.
But then she walked in.
I smelled her before I saw her.
Bacon, the scent like fresh fried breakfast, wafted to my overly sensitive nose. In a club, it was just odd to pick up the scent of fried pork fat. But I trusted my nose more than I trusted any of my senses and I smelled bacon.
Tantalized in a way that made my stomach growl, my eyes scanned the crowd. Did someone bring in food?
And then I saw her.
Hair glittering in the strobe like old gold and more clothes than anyone else in the crowd set her apart. She was dressed like a librarian. In a club.
I began to move toward the stairs before I had really thought it through.
Was she carrying bacon in her purse?
God knows, she could fit a small army in that horrendous bag.
Cutting through the crowd, I found her. From behind, she looked even less attractive. The skirt she wore was too long, falling to an unattractive length that made her legs seem bigger than they probably were. Her shoes were… sensible. That was about the best adjective I could apply to the ugly brown things that covered what looked to be small feet.
Her hair was the big attraction from this angle. Hanging in waves nearly to her waist, it was a golden fall of waves far longer than was currently in style. It looked like she hadn’t bothered to get it cut rather than any artful or womanly attempt at loveliness.
The hair and that ass. Even with the worlds ugliest skirt wrapped around it, she had rounded curves that begged you to dig your fingers into them.
And she reeked of bacon.
Sniffing, I moved closer. Turning so I could be near her at the bar, I tried to catch a look at her face.
When she angled her head to laugh nervously at the bartender, my breath caught in my throat.
She was breathtaking.
Lips so full my mind immediately moved to what they would feel like on my skin curved up and I felt a hot stab of lust shoot straight to my dick.
Eyes the color of shadows or the pelt of some sleek gray cat, framed by dark lashes, glittered in the light and I wondered if they got dark when that pale face of hers flushed with passion.
What was wrong with me? She was some strange woman in the bar. I had never felt drawn to anyone like I was this one bacon scented woman.
And then I caught it. Under the bacon, I picked up another scent. It was like warm vanilla. Vanilla spiked with cinnamon. You had to be close, as I now was, to pick it up because of the bacon permeating everything about her but I could smell it.
That scent drew me in a way that I wasn’t comfortable with. But I knew one thing.
I wanted her.
A
nd I am the kind of man who takes what he wants.
Riley
Okay, I thought to myself. Here I am. In a club.
I tried to calm my pulse as it hammered in my ears nearly louder than the thumping throb of the music.
I felt like an idiot. This wasn’t my kind of place. I was safer, smarter, to stay home in front of my keyboard where I belonged.
I had almost decided to run out of there and say the hell with the bacon experiment when I realized he was staring at me.
Since he was probably the most attractive man I had ever seen, I immediately glanced over my shoulder to see who he was staring at. Because obviously, this hot young man was not staring at me.
Glancing back at him, I was again pinned by his yellow eyes. My breath came out in a whoosh when I realized he was looking at me.
Or glaring at me. I wasn’t sure which.
I have written a romantic tale or two. None of them started with the hero glaring at the woman he desires enough to slay dragons for.
Well, then again, it’s not like I expected the bacon soap would really work…
“What is your name?”
Again, I shot a look over my shoulder; sure he was addressing someone behind me. I hate that… when you wave at someone and they weren’t waving at you or answer someone who had no clue you were even there—
It happened to me a lot.
Nope. He was talking to me. I cleared my throat. “Riley. Riley Perry.”
He continued to glare at me and I shifted on my barstool, uncomfortably. I sucked again on the straw on my drink and had to blink back tears as the alcohol burned my throat. Wow. Strong drink.
Could I possibly look any cooler than cringing at my own drink? Thirty loomed over me and I suddenly felt terribly old.
“Why do you reek of pork fat?”
My eyes widened as the man came closer and sniffed at me. “Reek?”
He waved one hand, which I noticed was huge. I pictured that hand on my body and my pulse sped. Yeah, not in this lifetime, Riley girl.
“It is very…” He paused as if trying to come up with a word and I studied him. The man was delicious and my body was reacting to his proximity in a way it had not ever done before. “Strong.”
I blinked. Well hell.
Standing, I moved to leave. I had to get out of there. I was an idiot.
A hand caught my arm and the momentum swung me back to land against a chest like a wall. I was washed in his scent which struck me as somehow wild. Something woodsy.
I sucked in another breath and chewed my lip to look up at the striking man. Trying not to notice how his body was hard against mine or how much heat it seemed to generate, I hoped words would pop into my head. Something clever. My heroines always had a snappy comeback. Of course, no one ever told them they reeked.
His face bent towards mine and I was captured by his gaze. It was like molten heat, those amber eyes.
“Why are you leaving?”
In a whoosh, I let the breath go. “You think I reek.”
Okay, the characters on the page would have thought of something cleverer. Then again, when they are feeling hot and needy and pressed against a truly wonderful male body, I am still thinking clear enough to give them something clever to say.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “It isn’t a typical kind of smell for a woman to be bathing in.”
Crap on toast. He knew it was soap.
I realized I was thinking more than speaking when he continued to stare at me. I finally had the good sense to try to step out of his grip but his hands firmed on my arms and he moved me to a wall.
Pinning me, my options were to struggle or stick around and see what Mr. Super Hunk was doing. What I actually did was freeze up and kept staring at him.
Until his mouth moved to cover mine.
Basil
This close, her vanilla scent was clearer. I had a raw desire to take her, shove her in a shower and get off the remnants of whatever she had done to mask her scent in meat. Looking at her, all flustered and confused, I found myself tempted to possess her, driven in a way that I had never felt with anyone.
I moved to kiss her.
When my mouth closed over those ripe lips, her hands snapped up to my chest to push me away. I tilted my head and changed the kiss to one of dominance, of need.
A tiny noise escaped her throat and the hands fluttered like butterflies against my chest. As if unsure what to do, she went still, very still and I took advantage of it to allow my body to speak to hers.
I was drawn to this woman, wanted her and it didn’t seem to have a damn thing to do with words. My very soul seemed to ache for those hands to stroke my skin. I wanted that mouth to respond to me.
Seeming to give in, she opened that sweet mouth for me and I delved my tongue into the sweet cinnamon tinted vanilla warmth of her mouth. She tasted like a dessert. I wanted more. Greedy, I wove my hands into all that hair.
And then she responded. Her hands stopped their confused fluttering and flattened against my chest. Her body seemed to collapse into me, melting and I sank into her surrender, feeling the globes of her breasts press into me through the fabric of that ugly shirt. This only made my balls tighten further and I bucked my hips into her so she could feel my need.
Overwhelmed, the passion that had flared in her was controlled quickly, as she pulled away from me to look with startled eyes up at me. Her face was flushed and already her lips looked red from my mouths demands on them.
“I’m Basil.”
She choked and the eyes went to sort of a desperate hilarity. “Basil?”
I nodded. I nudged her further to the wall with my body.
“Really? All this masculinity and your name is Basil?”
I quirked a brow at her. I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting my name bashed by a hot little librarian with a mouth I wanted on my dick.
“I am leader of the were pack. Maybe you have heard of me?”
Stilling, she searched my face. “You are one of them?”
I nodded slowly. I wasn’t sure why it mattered so much suddenly that she react well to the news. It wasn’t like I had ever cared before what someone thought of what I was.
Raising one hand to stroke down my face, she looked at me gently.
“They say that weres are like dogs in some ways.”
I snapped my head back from her hypnotic touch. She was comparing me to a dog?
Riley
He turned and stormed away from me. Well, shit. Finally I am hit on by probably the most attractive man I have ever seen and I chase him off by calling him a dog.
I stood, still for a second before making up my mind.
I wove through the crowd, easily picking up his dark head out of the crowd. He towered over them like a stalking night creature.
Bumped and jolted, I made it to a sign reading, ‘Employees Only,’ but I shoved under it to storm up the stairs after him. He had pinned me to a wall. The least he could do was hear me out.
He was alone, staring out at the crowd. There were scattered tables and couches up here but I ignored all that.
Before my courage ran out, I jogged to his side and caught his arm. “What I was going to say, before you went off in a snit, was that like dogs, Were’s like order, structure in the pack. The leader is usually stressed, having to take on responsibility for everyone else, something not in their nature. I was going to say how that must suck.”
Blinking those strange eyes at me, his lips began to curve. “Did you just say I went off in a ‘snit?’”
Glaring at him, I decided this was stupid and a waste of my time. I spun and was going to stomp back down the stairs when he caught my arm again.
“No. It’s not easy.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the floor.
I turned back, drawn. My hand again reached up to his face and he caught one of my fingers between teeth that suddenly glittered in the darkness.
A wave
of heat washed over me, nearly taking my breath away.
I was drawn to him, this stranger. My body was wet, needy already and he had done nothing more than nibble my finger.
“I want to kiss you again.”
My lips curved and I answered without thinking. “Good.”
And when that lovely mouth of his closed over mine, I melted into him. Strong hands cupped my ass and pulled me against his firm heat. A tiny gasp escaped me before his mouth again devoured mine with a need as great as my own.
“Maybe bacon soap isn’t a half bad idea.”
“It’s not the reek of bacon. My soul calls to you. Dammit.”
Altogether, I still thought it was the bacon. But I wasn’t complaining as he took me away with mouth and hands and a body built for sin.
Pulling back, I studied him. “Soul?”
He shrugged. “A bunch of us have found our mates. I think you may be mine.”
I quirked a brow. “And you know that because…”
His mouth closed over mine and all ability to think was squashed in the heat and power of that one swift move.
Tilting his head back, he challenged me with those eyes. “That feel like it had anything to do with bacon?”
Lips curving, I said the first thing that came to mind. “No, but I feel like a meat lover anyway.”
Laughing, he moved over me and swept my world away with a kiss.
Charisma
by Linda Palmer
Myth made me good at what I did--myth and talent. Thanks to Hollywood and the legends we Vampires fabricated ourselves, I’d never be pegged as one...at least at first sight. That meant by the time my prey figured me out, they didn’t stand a chance. So what Vamp trivia did the world have right? The deadly feud between us and Weres. That really had raged for centuries.
Just One Bite Volume 2 Page 9
