The last thing Tag and Paul expect to find under a sorcerer’s curse is a kitsune, a beautiful one who gets under their skin without even trying. Tag is more than ready to take the risk she needs. Paul has reservations, but it’s nothing Tag can’t overcome with a little sensual persuasion.
No one goes into the ritual with more hope than Akane…or more fear. Failure will leave her forever entrapped. Worse, she’s falling for two mortals. And there’s only one thing that can kill a kitsune—unrequited love.
Warning: Contains sly fox men (with tails), foxy fox women (with multiple tails), sexy witches chasing tail, Trickster magic, cranky sorcerers, and enough gay, het and MMF sex to torch your Kindle.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Foxes’ Den:
For a moment, overwhelmed by the wealth of gorgeous man around her, Akane almost forget the curse, forgot why she was able to be with them at all, forgot everything except that she hadn’t dared to have sex for…well, she didn’t want to think about how long, but it was longer than these two men had been alive.
She was pulled back to the reality of her circumstances when Paul intoned, “I honor your body as I honor the Goddess, the female principle in all life.” Tag followed along a few beats behind. Paul’s tone was solemn, Tag’s predictably less so.
The Donovan tradition was alien to her, their names for the divine Powers not the ones she knew, but the principles were familiar and she could figure out what she needed to say. “I honor your bodies as I honor the God, the male principle in all life.”
“As we honor each other’s,” Paul and Tag said, this time in perfect unison.
They weren’t here simply to share pleasure. Her future rode on the magic they could work together.
But the way she saw it, the more they enjoyed working the magic, the more likely it was to succeed. And how could a kitsune, even a cursed one, not enjoy herself with two such magnificent men?
Between them, Akane sank to her knees with a grace she had forgotten she possessed. She reached out, taking one cock in each hand, and began to stroke.
Even in this human form, locked away from most of her magic, she sensed silver cords of love binding the two men, sensed the energy passing along that cord between them. If only she’d looked for that kind of connection between Hiro and Masao…but no, she’d been too sure of herself. And since they’d been in denial about their true feelings, she might not have seen anything anyway.
Energy streamed from both men into her, streaming into the foul black weight she’d been carrying around in her spirit for two hundred years.
She didn’t want to hope too much, but it already seemed a little lighter.
Not surprisingly, Paul’s energy was the more directed of the two, a focused ray of scarlet passion and white healing that might be aimed by his cock, but seemed to come out of his soul and cut into the curse like a katana. What she felt from Tag was a wild river of positive energy: lust, caring, love and support for Paul, protectiveness like a wild animal might feel toward its mate.
And mixed in with it all, a degree of affection that humbled her.
Tag genuinely liked her.
Many men had desired her; some had fancied they loved her and a few perhaps had. But Tag knew her for what she was and understood her terrible mistakes and liked her anyway.
It touched and troubled her in equal measure. A fox dual like Tag was the closest thing to a potential true mate a kitsune would likely find. But he already had a husband, and she knew better than to disturb that bonding. Not to mention that pesky mortality.
This was why kitsune rarely found a true, lasting love, unless they were of a disposition to love another female.
No. Negative thinking would affect the magic. She must take what they offered and no more, and think positive to let the magic flow. Once her curse was broken and she wasn’t trapped in the physical realm, she wouldn’t worry about foolishness such as a permanent partner. Life, after all, was mutable, and so was she.
To distract from the pull of Tag, she turned her attentions to Paul.
She took Paul’s long, slender cock, throbbing with heat and human magic, into her mouth, working up and down until he made a strangled noise and she tasted a hint of tangy pre-come.
She would have continued, with pleasure, if Paul hadn’t pulled back and said, “No. Tag’s turn. Got to keep it balanced.”
He was the witch, the one who knew how to set her free.
It was playing with fire, but she’d always liked dangerous games. Sure, it was how she’d ended up in this fix, but there had been many other bits of fun, risky business in her immortal life, and most of them had worked out fine—in the long run, at least.
And what female could resist a gorgeous man telling her to do exactly what she wanted to do anyway?
Can she handle everything they are?
Studs
© 2012 Vonna Harper
True to her Hopi mother’s restless spirit, Terena Rothrock follows news stories all over the Southwest. Lately, though, her heart is calling her back to the rez. But not before she swings through Phoenix to see her cousin race his amazingly fast new horse.
At the track, two powerful men watch the horse with suspicion in their eyes. Watch Terena with the drive to possess her oozing from every pore. When they seem to shift into stallions in her mind’s eye, shock—and arousal—flood her body.
Far from home and their herd, Nokoni and Hah-Tee can’t afford to draw attention to themselves. Instant attraction to Terena complicates their already competitive relationship, but she’s their one connection to the man they suspect stole one of their mares.
Overcome by instincts as ancient as time, the urge to mate rolls over them with the speed and ferocity of a desert storm. Yet even as Terena struggles to make sense of her desire for the swift, mysterious shifters, danger lurks. Someone is out to collect every last one of the horses born with wings on their feet—even if it means bullets must fly.
Warning: Studs doing what studs do, hormones raging, and of course the whole complex threesome thing.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Studs:
Backing up and rearing, Red whinnied again. The high scream-like sound seared Terena’s nerves. Despite her concern that the horse might hurt herself, Terena couldn’t keep her attention off the men. They were maybe a hundred feet away and walking with slow, measured steps, as if giving her time to comprehend what was happening. When she’d seen them earlier, they’d been closer but surrounded by race-goers. Now, nothing stood between her and them.
They weren’t friends with each other. She sensed their complex relationship in the space they kept between them. Despite that, they walked in sync, the slightly shorter man lengthening his stride to match the other.
What did their relationship matter? They were coming toward her, staring intently.
Ahote was out of sight, more concerned with his damn conversation than her or his horse. He’d left her to—
Sudden anger washed away the fear she didn’t want to acknowledge. This wasn’t the Wild West. A couple of cowpokes couldn’t march into town and take over. Take her.
Red’s hooves tattooed the ground. “It’s all right. You’re all right,” she soothed without taking her attention off the stalking men. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
Galvanized by her promise, she stepped fully into the sunlight and crossed her arms over her chest. The newcomers still walked in slow-motion with their arms by their sides, their body-hugging clothing revealing every move. Her throat dried, her nipples hardened and her core heated.
Determined to get control over her misbehaving body, she pressed her forearms against her too-sensitive breasts and lifted her head so the breeze stroked her throat. She had a few seconds before they came so close their energy touched her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Instead of answering, they continued to approach her, or was it stalking? To her disbelief, they pulled their T-shirts over their heads, revealing twin six
packs. Still holding on to their tops, they started unbuttoning their jeans.
“This isn’t funny.” She couldn’t speak above a whisper.
“No,” the slightly older man said, “it isn’t. Be patient. You’ll soon understand.”
She wanted to tell them she’d never ever understand what was happening, but that would have to wait because they’d stopped and were removing their socks and shoes. Next came their jeans, drawn down over non-existent bellies and muscled thighs.
“You can’t—” she started.
“We have to.” Instead of explaining, as if there’d ever be an explanation for this, the two made short work of their briefs. They were semi-erect.
“Shit,” she whispered, then covered her face with her hands and turned her back to them. The faint popping sounds behind her made no sense, and their low gasps made her wonder if they were in pain. Any thoughts she might have had of fleeing died. When the sounds stopped, she forced herself to turn around.
Where were the men?
And where had the two magnificent stallions come from?
It couldn’t be! The nearly identical four-legged animals didn’t exist! Couldn’t. The highly arched necks, hard-muscled chests, breeze-tossed manes and long, uplifted tails were her imagination.
Despite the denial running through her, she continued to stare. They weren’t as tall as draft horses, but close. The similarity ended with height comparisons, because, unlike a Percheron or Clydesdale, these creatures were built for speed, not pulling power.
Sunlight caressed the mostly black bodies and played up where black slid into copper on their bellies and flanks. Large, pure-white splotches splayed over their chests. Their ears pointed forward as if listening for any sound she might make.
Red pranced while these two turned their gait into an art form, with high-striking front legs and unbelievably muscled hindquarters. Their nostrils flared; they held their heads high and proud. Long, thick erect penises jutted forward.
“Oh shit. Oh shit.”
The duo stopped, glanced at each other, reared in unison. She stared, uncomprehending, at prime horseflesh balanced on powerful back legs while their front legs stabbed the air. Their heads arched even tighter, making their necks bow and the tendons stand out. She waited for them to bellow like the aroused studs they were, but they remained silent. It was, she crazily concluded, as if they knew how to show themselves off to best advantage.
If only she had her camera with her.
If only this made sense.
Overwhelmed, she hugged her waist for comfort. She closed her eyes. Maybe two seconds passed before she found the courage to open them again.
The stallions were gone, the men back, their lack of expression unnerving as they redressed.
“No.” She began rocking herself. Her mind snagged on the white markings on the horses’ chests. Should have paid closer attention to them. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, she was incapable of fully comprehending what she’d just experienced.
Or imagined she’d experienced.
That was it. She’d had a mind meltdown.
Red still moved about but seemed a little less agitated. Maybe she’d locked in to Terena’s mind glitch, and that was what had upset her. Well, it wasn’t going to happen again.
Realizing she was still hugging herself and rocking, Terena forced her hands to her sides. With each step they took, the approaching men made an even greater impact on her system.
Fox’s Folly
Teresa Noelle Roberts
What happens in Vegas lasts forever…if you’re lucky.
A Duals and Donovans Story
Las Vegas is the wrong place for an inexperienced witch like Paul Donovan. But he has no choice; his family owes a debt of honor to a half-fae casino owner, whose guests have been dying under mysterious circumstances. The normy police haven’t connected the dots between the deaths, and the owner has called in his marker.
When Paul literally runs into fox dual Taggart Ross, the instant, powerful attraction between them bristles with red flags. Not only should there be no sparks between him and this “hillbilly with a tail”, the fact is a dual couldn’t have committed murder-by-magic. But until he’s got proof, caution rules.
Tag’s own suspicions are on high alert. Magic killed his favorite uncle, and Paul, who senses Tag’s dual nature way too easily, should be a prime suspect. Except Tag’s libido responds to the witch in a way that shouldn’t happen.
Whatever this thing is between them, the raw sexual energy feeds a power that becomes their best hope of drawing out the killer out before he, she, or it strikes again. Until love gets involved, and things get real complicated, real fast…
Warning: Sly foxes, smoky Southern drawls, sex magic, dangerous demons, tacky Las Vegas glitz, and did we mention the hot guy-on-guy sex?
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Fox’s Folly
Copyright © 2012 by Teresa Noelle Roberts
ISBN: 978-1-61921-104-9
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com
Fox's Folly Page 11
