After a second of silence, Samantha started to squirm and Noah deliberately shifted his gaze to the other werewolf in the room. Stepping inside, Noah set a cardboard file box down on the chair beside the office door. “Thanks for agreeing to put me up, Graham. I appreciate it.”
The Silverback Alpha shook his hand, relieving the last of Noah’s worries that the Lupine might still hold a grudge over the way his sister had briefly set the pack’s Luna in harm’s way a few months back when she’d been pursued by demons. Apparently, Graham didn’t like having demons surrounding his wife.
“It’s no problem,” Graham said. “In fact, I was just telling Sam I think it might be good for some of our young males. Give them a place to channel their aggression other than in a dominance challenge.”
Noah smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
He looked around the spacious room, taking note of the territory Sam had already marked. The huge cherry desk stationed in front of the door to Graham’s private inner office had the look of a sentry’s gate house, and Noah had no trouble picturing her fending off intruders and interlopers. Her area only took up one end of the grand old sitting room, though. There would be plenty of space for him. And he’d be near enough to give the electricity between them time to spar.
This grin he didn’t bother to suppress. “Where would you like me to set up?”
Graham shrugged. “That’s up to Sam. She’s the one who keeps everything in its place around here.”
It didn’t take a mind reader to see that Sam wanted to put Noah outside with the trash. Or maybe to banish him to another continent. But that wasn’t her decision.
Sam forced a pleasant expression onto her face. “I’ll have one of the staff bring in a desk and some chairs. If we set them up near the fireplace on the far side of the room, it should give you some privacy for your sales pitch.”
And get Noah as far from her as possible without banishing him from the room. Still. He’d save his fighting for other battles. “That works for me. Why don’t you just tell me who on the staff I need to talk to, and I’ll take care of my own supplies? I’m sure you have plenty of work to do without worrying about me.”
“Great.” Graham clapped Noah on the back. “I’ll leave you to it, then. If you think of anything you need, just let Sam know. I’m putting her entirely at your disposal.”
Noah saw Sam’s eyes widen and her lips part to protest, but Graham had already retreated to his inner sanctum and closed the door behind him.
Walk on the Wild Side
“Amazing characters & intriguing plots.”
—Fallen Angel Reviews
Kitty Sugarman is a lot tougher than her name implies. Still, she’s content with how her small-town life keeps her removed from all the changes happening in the world—like the Unveiling of The Others. That is, until a near-tragedy strikes and Kitty discovers she has abilities…thanks to a father she never knew was alive. He also happens to be a were-lion and leader of one of the most powerful prides out West.
When Kitty heads to Vegas to find out more about her father, it’s his sexy, seductive second-in-command, or baas, of the Pride, Max Stewart, who commands her attention. Now that she has tempted Max’s hunger for a mate, Kitty finds herself stuck in a vicious struggle for her father’s fortune, while deadly unrest stirs within the pride. Kitty’s rivals won’t rest until she’s gone for good, but Max will fight until his last breath to save her…even if it means going against the pride.
Max sat in the big leather chair at the desk in his office above the casino floor with his back to his paperwork. Instead of diligently completing forms and poring over spreadsheets, he faced the bank of windows overlooking the sea of gamblers and stared through the one-way glass, seeing very little of what was right in front of him. Every bit of his attention had focused on his memories of smooth, freckled skin, wide, green eyes, and the softest, sweetest, lushest lips he’d ever tasted.
The sleep he’d gotten last night—the little of it he’d managed—had done nothing to erase the building obsession he’d developed in the twelve or so hours that he’d known Kitty Sugarman. A humbling realization for a man who’d never before applied the word “obsession” to any member of the fairer sex. But when a man spent six hours doing nothing but reliving a kiss that your average college kid would have viewed as routine, he had to face a few brutal truths. Admitting to the obsession had only gotten the ball rolling.
From there, he’d had to think about the fact that the object of his obsession bore about as much resemblance to the women he’d become used to as she did to the calculating, money-grubbing tramp he’d originally envisioned her to be. Leo females as a rule were sophisticated, elegant, and completely aware of their own seductive powers. They usually exuded the sort of confidence that bordered on arrogance and saw no benefit in underestimating their own worth. They believed the word “bashful” referred to nothing more than a character in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. They didn’t have dinner with eligible men while wearing their hair in ponytails and their faces scrubbed clean of makeup, and they certainly didn’t stare at him with wide eyes full of suspicion and innocence and tantalizing vulnerability.
No, Kitty Sugarman was like no other woman he’d ever met. He certainly reacted to her in a way he’d never experienced.
That intrigued him, almost as much as the woman herself did. He’d never had any trouble responding to a woman; he was a healthy Leo male in his prime, after all, a future Felix of his pride. But his response to Kitty went beyond the ordinary. He’d known her for half a day, and he’d already decided to have her. She didn’t know it yet, but the sweet, stubborn girl with the slow southern accent was going to be his. Soon.
Martin, he knew, would be delighted, but that meant little more to him than the knowledge that the rest of the pride would be horrified. Max’s intentions had nothing to do with any of them, especially since he wasn’t completely sure how far beyond the initial possession those intentions went.
Oh, he knew one fuck wasn’t going to satisfy him, not this time, but he couldn’t decide how long it would take, or if this could end up being more than sex. There was no way of knowing this soon if the attraction between them could turn into a mating, not unless the Fates had a truly remarkable sense of timing, but wherever this took him, he intended to take Kitty along.
His mouth curved as he considered whether or not she deserved a warning. He had a feeling this might turn out to be a bumpy ride, but he also had a feeling that Ms. Sugarman was more than up to the challenge.
He was still grinning a few minutes later when he reached for his phone. He still had some work he needed to finish before he could take Kitty out to meet her father as he’d promised, and he couldn’t be sure she wouldn’t get restless waiting for him. Just in case she took it into her head to explore the city a little while she waited, he should arrange for someone to tag along with her. He felt pretty confident that the incident at the airport last night had been a random mugging, but with the recent tension in the pride over idiots like Billy Shepard and Peter Lowe grumbling over the line of succession, it couldn’t hurt to be cautious.
Mentally, he sorted through the pride until he hit on a particular name. Ronnie Peters was about Kitty’s age, had a warm, fun-loving personality, and could kick the crap out of most men twice her size. She and Kitty would probably get along like gangbusters.
Glancing at the clock, he paused. It was still early, but better to make the arrangements ahead of time. If his visitor ended up sleeping late, so be it, but if her night had been anything like his, lingering in bed alone would be the last thing in Kitty Sugarman’s tempting little mind.
One Bite with a Stranger
“A hot, hot novel.”
—A Romance Review
When Regina’s friends insist on setting her up a “Fantasy Fix” to help her get over her cheating ex, she dreams up some kinky out-of-this-world encounters that they could never possibly bring to life. But the next thing Regina knows,
her friends have got her laced into a shiny black corset, tight leather pants, and a sexy pair of stilettos. It’s time for some downtown vampire-fantasy fun….
The Vampire Ball in Manhattan’s East Village isn’t really Dmitri Vidâme’s idea of a good time, but as a member of the Council that governs The Others, he has to keep an eye on all the young vamps who prey on the pretenders. After he feasts his dark eyes on fiery Regina at the bar, he knows that he must have her. But for the first time Dmitri meets a woman who is more than a match for his indomitable will. And he may be the fantasy Regina hoped for…until she—and her feisty friends—discover her sexy new lover’s bloodsucking secret…
Dmitri Vidâme nursed his single glass of scotch and wondered if there might be enough liquid in the glass to drown himself.
Literally.
Because he was about four minutes away from burying his face in it and breathing deep. Perhaps the fumes would counteract the odor of sweaty, chemically enhanced humans with sex on their minds and cobwebs in their heads.
If it hadn’t been for Graham’s insistence that this “Vampire Ball” made a perfect place for a young rogue to hide in plain sight, Dmitri would never have let himself be caught within ten city blocks of the place. Such a gothic circus as this event hardly fit his normal thinking as to what constituted a good time, and frankly, the attendees who filled the Mausoleum’s vast basement dance floor had begun to annoy him.
He wanted to go home. A quiet evening in front of his fireplace sounded infinitely more appealing to him than another five minutes surrounded by pretentious children in “gothic” garb. Even one of the endless, politically charged meetings of the Council of Others, which he currently headed, sounded more appealing.
Dmitri swore under his breath and tossed back half of his drink in one swallow. He had let Graham, his good friend and fellow Council member, talk him into coming to this torture session. Rumors had recently reached the Council about a few young vampires who had taken to frequenting these goth events and feeding off the eager attendees. The fledglings risked exposure with their behavior, and the Council had decided they needed a stern warning.
It hardly counted as a crisis of epic proportions, and Dmitri would have been happy to let a few of Graham’s Lupine packmates do the Council’s dirty work, but the werewolf leader had volunteered Dmitri and himself for the job instead. Dmitri was tempted to “volunteer” Graham for the French Foreign Legion in exchange.
Restless, Dmitri tapped fingers on the scarred wooden surface of the bar, sorely tempted to just forget his goodbyes and leave Graham to his fate and his bimbo. He reached for his glass to drain the last drops of fiery whisky, and that’s when he saw her.
Temptation.
She stepped up to the bar, swept along in the wake of four other women, but Dmitri could not have described a single one of them. He saw only her, with her face like a vision and her body like a gift from the gods.
The woman looked impatient and a little nervous and sadly out of place among the ridiculous throngs that surrounded her. For one thing, she had the look of a woman, rather than a child. He could see she was young, probably in her late twenties, but she wore her age comfortably, as a mature woman should. Her skin, milk white and dusted with freckles the color of honey, looked smooth and unlined.
Dmitri saw a great deal of skin, from her hairline to the generous swell of her breasts where they were cuddled and lifted by the black satin of her corset; from the graceful curve of her shoulder to the tips of her slender fingers. Her snug black leather pants and tall black boots covered everything else, hugging her curves with loving care and making his body tighten.
Lord, she is stunning.
He certainly felt stunned. He hadn’t reacted to the mere sight of a woman in longer than he could remember, but he reacted to this one. Already he could feel his cock hardening beneath his trousers, filling with blood and heat, while his sense of boredom died a sharp and final death.
She stood out in stark contrast against the sea of sameness that surrounded her. She, too, had dressed all in black, but she shared nothing else with the other women in the room. Her skin had the pearlescent glow of natural fairness, and her hair had not been dyed a flat and light-absorbing black. It rippled over her shoulders and down her back in waves of burnished mahogany. When she turned her head, the light caught it and sparked dancing flames across the shiny surface. Dmitri imagined burying his hands in it, using his grip to hold her still while he drove into her body.
He wanted that body, he acknowledged, wanted to feel those pale, white curves against him, under him.
He sat there at the bar, staring and fantasizing and wanting her, and while he did so, he gave in to his instincts and slipped lightly inside her mind.
She didn’t notice him, as wrapped up in her thoughts as she was, but he’d have been astounded if she had. Most people didn’t notice his mental presence even when he didn’t keep quiet, like he did now. Very few people out there had any sort of psychic talent, and even fewer knew how to use it. He didn’t probe deeply enough into the woman’s mind to see if she did; he just wanted to get a sense of her, to decide if more than her beautiful body intrigued him.
More than intrigued, he found himself entranced and unexpectedly entertained. This woman possessed a lively mind and a sharp-edged humor.
Look at that. He heard her voice in his head, husky and feminine and arousing. Lord Velveteen thinks he’s just the shit sitting there with those silly little stick figures fawning all over his poet shirt. Does he have any idea how ridiculous it is for a grown man to have a visible rib cage and lacy shirt cuffs?
Oh, wait. That’s right. He’s a long way from a grown man.
He watched her raise a glass to her slick, painted mouth, and his eyes narrowed. He wanted those lips to part around his cock, and the violence of his lust surprised him. This woman had an unsettling effect on him.
Where is this guy Ava invited? If I have to wait around this circus much longer, he can kiss his chances for some nookie goodbye. I don’t care how badly they think I need this. I refuse to consider sleeping with someone who can’t even manage to show up on time for it.
Rage turned his vision black for a split second, and Dmitri actually felt his fangs lengthen in anticipation of the wounds he would inflict on any man who dared to touch her. He would show these pretenders a real vampire’s fury if a single one of them thought to lay a hand on what Dmitri intended to claim for his own. His woman would not be touched by any man but him.
His woman.
Dmitri registered the possessive term with surprise and tested the phrase in his mind. In all his considerable lifetime, he’d never felt such an instant proprietary interest in any woman. He’d never been tempted to conquer and claim so quickly. But in this case, he wanted to mark the woman so the entire world would know to keep its distance.
When he saw the woman turn her gaze to him, he ruthlessly tamped down his emotions and moved his touch to the edge of her mind. He didn’t think she had noticed his presence within her, but he felt it prudent to be cautious. Already, he detected a stubborn and independent streak in her. He didn’t want her to struggle against him. Not yet.
He felt her gaze on him, and he met her stare with a bold one of his own. Heat arced between them, slicing through the crowd as if to remove all barriers separating them. He wanted no barriers, wanted her bared to him, body and mind, so he could sate himself with her flesh, her thoughts, and her blood.
She was perfect, and she would be his.
You’re So Vein
“Filled with supernatural danger, excitement, and sarcastic humor.”
—Darque Reviews
Ava Markham is beautiful, savvy, chic, and more at home with Kate Spade than with the idea of fangs and fur. She can’t get quite used to the fact that some of her closest friends have crossed over to the Other side. Then one night she is attacked by a rogue vampire, and her deepest fears are realized when her body begins a dangerous transformation from
human to immortal—a change she cannot survive without the help of an alluring stranger who comes to her rescue…
Vladimir Rurikovich, an elite member of the European Council of Vampires, is on the prowl for a murderous vampire fugitive on the night he saves Ava from the clutches of death. It takes just one look for Dima to know he cannot live another eight centuries without the stunning and seductive Ava—until he discovers a secret about her bloodline that could change everything…
Ava woke from the nightmare, her heart pounding, her brow covered in cold sweat. She hadn’t dreamed that vividly in years, not since she’d taught herself to step back from her nightmares and will them away. This one had been a doozy, all dark shadows and sharp pain and something cold and powerful staring down at her with eyes the color of an arctic sky. It was almost enough to make her reconsider her true need for beauty sleep. Blowing out a deplorably unsteady breath, she reached out to preemptively silence her alarm clock.
Or she tried to.
She couldn’t move her hands.
Her eyes snapped open and presented her with the unwelcome view of an unfamiliar ceiling, high, pale, and crisscrossed with the exposed steel beam work of an urban loft. She had never seen this place before in her life. And she couldn’t move.
Panic began to well. She tugged sharply on her hands and attempted to sit up, only to find her feet similarly secured. Aghast, disbelieving, she craned her head around to confirm what her instincts had been trying to tell her even while she’d been asleep: She was a prisoner, bound hand and foot to a strange bed in a strange apartment in what she hoped to God and all his angels was not a strange city.
Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here Page 26
