Her Chosen Wolf: The Were Chronicles, Book 1

by Renee Michaels

  “We will. Drew is on their trail. We’ll head out at daybreak to join the hunt.”

  “I want to go with you.”

  He looked down at her and, after a long thoughtful moment, nodded. “We’ll leave the girls with Gretchen, within the safety of my father’s compound.”

  She nodded. “They’ll be safe there,” she said, mostly for her own benefit.

  “What now?”

  “We’ll eliminate every last Redmaven to ensure our girls can grow up unafraid.” His words were a vow, one she’d help him keep.

  About the Author

  Renee Michaels is a stay-at-home mom who has always read voraciously. She has a deep interest in history, the paranormal and the quirks that make us human. Her hobbies are cooking and baking. Renee likes to garden but it does not like her—owner of the proverbial brown thumb. She’s a widow with a daughter in collage and a teenaged son.

  Renee has always wanted to write. A few years ago, she put pen to paper and the results were her first novel, an erotic fantasy. A Coffee Time Romance review of her second release said “Ms. Michaels wrote the perfect short story”. She writes in several genres, and has several stories in the works.

  To learn more about Renee Michaels, please visit www.renee-michaels.com. Send an email to Renee Michaels at Michaels.renee@yahoo.com.

  Nilana has one night to make the choice of a lifetime: Accept the love of two men, or keep hunting—alone.

  Hunting the Huntress

  © 2007 Ember Caser

  No man has ever tempted Nilana to give up her freedom. Life as a huntress has given this shapeshifter everything she thought she could ever want. But one look at the warrior and the shaman who have come to run the Harvest Hunt has her questioning her own decision.

  Tate and Cheveyo have ridden far across the plains, drawn by dreams of the woman they are sure will unite their tribe. They just never thought they’d have to convince their fantasy woman that they are the future she has never considered.

  They have one night to convince the huntress that becoming the hunted can lead to a beginning, not the end of all she holds dear.

  Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, ménage a troi, thrilling chases through the moonlit night.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Hunting the Huntress:

  The moon had barely begun its path through the night sky when she’d slipped away from the maidens. Hoping she’d gotten away from camp before the warriors had time to begin their hunt, she’d headed for a quiet spot by the river. After covering the slight trail her footsteps had made she let her totem answer the lunar call, enjoying the feel of the autumn wind ruffling through her fur as she breathed deeply the smells of the coming night.

  She’d headed for the river alone, eager to lose her scent in the quick running water. A hunter could not follow where there was no trail. She had been almost giddy with her power as she headed out under the clear, bright sky of the early twilight.

  She had hoped for a quick run through the night followed by a quiet evening of rest under the full moon while the hunt went on without her. Her hopes had been quickly dashed. It was there by the river they had found her, the warrior and the shaman. She’d stared at them for a moment, unable to believe they had tracked her down.

  And there the chase had begun.

  She should have taken them more seriously. Overconfident in her ability to hide her trail from any hunter in her tribe, she had taken them lightly when she first picked up their scent. Nilana admitted it had thrilled her just a bit to be pursued by the men so many of the maidens were dreaming of. That excitement had faded as they proved hard to shake from her trail. She should have remembered her role tonight was that of prey, not huntress. It was a truth driven home again and again as they ran her down the path they wanted her to take.

  A glance over her shoulder now showed only one form behind her. Tate, the warrior. His longer legs continued to eat the ground between them. Under other circumstances, she would have enjoyed watching him run. His glossy brown coat rippled with the powerful muscles beneath. There was awesome strength in his lean body, whether he took the form of man or cougar. As a man he stood head and shoulders above the warriors of her tribe, his long body impressively formed of muscles and sinew. But when he called his cougar totem to take its form, he became the Chimaga who was already the source of legends.

  Pursuit by the legend had lost its charm for Nilana. She needed to get to higher ground.

  The canyon curved ahead and she used the tight corners to her advantage. Her legs were shorter than his, but her agile body was better able to take the corners at high speed. Shooting out of the last curve, she saw a fork ahead in the path. Yes! With any luck one of the branches would lead up and out to the forested foothills where she would have the advantage. To freedom.

  Get out of the canyon. Get to the hills. The two thoughts ran through her head with the rhythm of her paws as she sped across dry ground.

  She poured her last reserves of energy into a final burst of speed. Higher ground was to the left, and that way should lie freedom. Great bounding leaps took her onward, hope adding strength to her feet as she reached the split.

  Already springing for the left path, she roared her anger when she found she had been outmaneuvered. The shaman Cheveyo stood guard there quietly, a furry, gray shadow blocking her path.

  With a snarl of frustration, Nilana headed right, further down the canyon. She had not scouted this far past the forking canyon during the days of hunting and had no idea what lay ahead. Desperately she prayed for a way out. If this path dead ends…

  It did indeed dead end.

  Nilana skidded to a stop and began to pace the small space, her tail whipping behind her as she studied the steep walls on all three sides. She had been herded into the canyon like a buffalo in the hunt. She admitted the hunters had chosen their trap well, running their target into the ground and making sure there was no escape. She could have admired their skill, if she were not the prey.

  Angry howls escaped her as she sprang from one side of the canyon to the other. Desperation clawed at her. Capture during the harvest hunt was not only a blow to her pride. It could mean an end to her freedom. Her heart pounded with frenzied outrage.

  A muted roar came from behind her. They had managed to corner her, but she was not down yet.

  Nilana backed into the corner made by the rough, rocky walls. She would not give in without a fight. She put her backside to the wall and faced the opening, then dropped to a crouch. A warning rumble escaped her throat. Let them come to her.

  A forbidden union forged in love—and tempered in hellfire.

  Inferno

  © 2009 Bianca D’Arc

  A Tales of the Were Story.

  One last task and Megan will be free of the debt of honor owed by her family. Spying on Dante, a powerful vampire with questionable friends, sounds simple enough. But her mission is complicated by the fact she’s got something every vampire wants—tangy, powerful, werewolf blood.

  It’s easy to capture his attention. The hard part will be getting out with her heart—and soul—intact. Not to mention her life, thanks to a crazed bomber.

  Dante isn’t the kind to forgive or forget easily, especially the grudge he holds against werewolves. Still, he is instantly drawn to the injured lone wolf in his care. When he and his friend Duncan treat her wounds, they discover something that marks her as much more than she seems.

  That mark is a neon sign warning to be careful, but Dante can’t help himself. He wants her and nothing will stand in his way. Not her species. Not his. Not the strange woman who keeps trying to kill him.

  Not even the magical poison in Megan’s blood…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Inferno:

  Dante paused to sniff the air, satisfied for the moment with the ripe scent of humanity that assailed his sharp senses. He also noticed some other, more subtle scent lacing the air.

  It was off to his right.
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  Dante opened his eyes and looked around, only to meet the gaze of the most alluring woman he’d ever seen in all his long centuries. Lustrous, mink brown hair framed her face and swayed gently with her movements. Snapping hazel eyes fringed with thick, dark lashes batted at him with come-hither motions.

  She was sitting on a bar stool, surrounded by mortals, but she shone as if she were the only being in the room. She was not human.

  Dante sniffed again.

  Were.

  And she was looking directly at him, meeting his eyes boldly while she raised a glass of red wine to her lips. He followed the curving line of her luscious throat as it flexed in a swallow, and he went hard. Just like that.

  This woman was potent.

  And she held knowledge in her eyes.

  Silently, she stood and stalked toward him. She moved like a predator, sinuous and sensuous as she held his attention and his gaze, mesmerizing him. He got the feeling he was definitely her prey this evening and not the other way around. It was a novel experience for him. Never had a woman enthralled him so quickly or so completely.

  And they hadn’t even touched.

  That would soon be remedied.

  “She’s a fine looking woman, but beware my friend,” Duncan said in a low voice, “she is not what she seems.”

  Dante nodded, his gaze glued on the woman as she approached. “I know what she is.”

  “But do you know why? Why would such a creature seek you out?”

  Dante shrugged. “Probably for no good reason, though I find it hard to resist the puzzle she presents.”

  “Just be certain this puzzle doesn’t get you staked out in the desert at dawn.” Duncan laughed as he moved off, two women already in his sights. “I’ll be near if you need backup.”

  She didn’t realize he would be so handsome. Of course bloodletters were said to have a Glamour all their own. She didn’t think she was close enough to feel his magical influence, but she didn’t have any personal experience with his kind. Their powers were said to grow with the centuries, and Dante was an old one.

  There was something about the tall man at his side too. Something that gave Megan the heebie geebies. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what the deal was with him. He wasn’t a bloodsucker. His scent was different but very, very magical. Not human entirely, yet not anything else she recognized. She would have to tread carefully—very carefully—until she knew exactly what she was dealing with.

  Still, the ball was in play now. She’d have to see it through and play the game she’d planned. Just this one last task, and she’d finally be free of the meddlesome Altor Custodis. She would do just about anything to clear her family debt of honor, but she had to be careful. This Dante fellow was more than likely the deadliest being she’d ever meet.

  Squaring her shoulders, she walked up to him and shifted her weight to one foot, letting the opposite hip jut out toward him provocatively. Dante was certainly a tall drink of water, almost a foot taller than her own five foot four. Of course, she was petite for a wolf shifter. She was only half were by blood.

  She didn’t speak, just looked him over and let him look in return. She saw the flare of interest in his eyes before he banked it to something less obvious. She was close enough to scent his magic though well protected—she hoped—against his vampire mojo by her shifter nature. Still, he certainly did have an effect and she had to admit—mojo or not, this man was potent with a capital P.

  “Do you like playing with fire, little one?”

  His voice wafted over her like dark silk, caressing her pelt in the most sensuous way. She had to suppress a shiver of pleasure at the tone and timbre.

  She struggled for nonchalance. “I know what you are.”

  “And still you came to me? You’re a brave little shifter. Does your pack know what you’re up to?”

  “I have no pack. I’m a loner.” Her chin rose defiantly.

  “Ah, a lone wolf out on the prowl.” He made the words mocking. She squared her shoulders and stood her ground. “You are a foolhardy youngster, out to test her limits.”

  “No doubt I’m younger than you but by no means a child.” She thrust out her chest and was glad to see his gaze snagged by the motion. “I’m curious, I’ll admit. I’ve heard your kind has certain abilities for pleasure.”

  He leaned back, studying her from under hooded eyes. He was a seducer of the senses in every word, every motion. It would be hard not to fall under his spell—magical or not. Everything female in her wanted to be with this male, regardless of his species or his power.

  He watched her, seeming to come to some kind of decision. “My name is Dante.”

  She laughed. “Playing with fire indeed. I get the literary reference, Dante.” She grinned at him. “My name is Megan.”

  “Well then, Megan, can I buy you a drink?” He ushered her toward the bar where two chairs opened up for them as if by magic.

  She knew darn well he’d used his influence over mortals to make the others move. It was a casual show of power that scared her. Without the protection of her shifter blood, would she be as powerless against him as other mortals? And how could she be certain she was protected? Would she even know if she was being influenced by his vampiric powers?

  It was a worrisome thought. This man was more than she’d been led to believe. She could tell from the few minutes she’d been in his presence. And his friend was troublesome too. What was he? Megan feared she’d suddenly been thrust into the deep end of the pool with no warning, and she’d have to learn to swim. Fast.

  “So what brings you here tonight?” Dante asked, turning back to her after ordering wine for them.

  “Just on the prowl.”

  “Ah.” He nodded knowingly. “Something your kind enjoys, from what I hear.”

  “How do you know what we enjoy?” She tried her best not to sound suspicious but feared some of her wariness showed through.

  He leaned back as the bartender returned with their wine. “Contrary to popular thought, I actually do have some friends among the weretribes.” He kept his voice low so that only she could hear him. Her hearing was better than any mortal’s and he definitely knew the scope of her abilities in that area at least, proving his shocking words might hold some truth.

  “It thought your kind didn’t like weres.”

  He sipped his wine before answering. “It’s not that we don’t like you. It’s more that we don’t like how resistant you are to our power. Bad blood in the past has made all the various supernaturals distrust each other over the centuries. Yet I have a feeling that will soon come to an end.”

  She was shocked. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “You’re a loner so you probably haven’t heard. There are certain bad elements returning after many generations. I was around the last time we fought them, and we all worked together. Seems to me we might have to do so again.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He shook his head in the negative. “Not here. No matter how good your hearing, there may be others listening as well. If you really want to know, I’ll tell you in private.”

  “I want to know.” This was her chance. Even if he was leading her into some kind of weird vamp trap, she needed to get close to him. That was her mission and she wouldn’t shrink from it. She was also curious about his hinted knowledge. She really was a lone wolf. She hadn’t had interaction with her own kind in a long time. If there was something going on in the supernatural world, she didn’t trust her contacts in the Altor Custodis to tell her. They were too damned secretive and their policy of non-interference went way too far in her opinion. She’d like to know what Dante thought he knew.

  “All right then. Later.” He drained his glass of wine and set it on the bar. “For now, will you dance with me?”

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