When she turned, Liam had made his move. His face was bloody and battered, but he had Kyle on him. Their claws locked together in a test of strength. Sooner or later, one of them would succumb.
Kyle fared better between the two and grinned as he slowly bent Liam’s arms back. The way Liam sneered at him, Emma sensed Liam had deadly plans in mind. His head slowly angled toward Kyle’s exposed arm. His mouth gaped wipe with incisors ready to bite.
The witch wavered not far from them. Her perfect skin was now marred with bruises similar to Liam’s. Her eyes shot venomous arrows at Em.
“No!” Emma raced toward them, posed to plunge the blade into Liam’s back. The movements took a few seconds. Liam whipped back to block her blow while Kyle surged forward and snapped Liam’s neck.
The leader of the rabid army fell with a heavy thud.
No one stirred until Kyle clambered to his feet and circled his nemesis.
Emma took it all in as Kyle kicked his enemy over with his boot. The blood in the air filled her nostrils with a sick, coppery stink as his hold on her drifted away. The voice in her head whispered a few times. Always mine. You’re always mine.
And then it was no more as the last of Liam’s life seeped out on the ground.
Her head whipped around to face the witch, but the fight was over. The woman lay dead. No one had touched her during the fight, and yet she was dead.
“What happened to her?” Kyle asked.
Emma closed her eyes as she said, “The witch must have bound herself to the wrong victor.”
But Emma hadn’t. She was bound to Kyle, and her torment was finally over.
Another drive again, but this time, Emma looked forward to the journey.
A hand enclosed hers and stroked her palm. “Have you heard from Meg?” Kyle asked.
“Yeah, she told me the others have emerged from their homes looking lost and scared.”
Kyle nodded. “It looks like we have some work to do.” He brushed his lips over her hand. The sensation traced up her left arm and left her eager to make up for their missed time.
She glanced at the horizon up ahead. Another hot day in Arizona, but with a new start for them, she’d thrive in the desert.
She leaned in close and ran her fingers down his thigh. “Pull over.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“A few more hours won’t hurt.” Her fingers drew circles closer and closer to the hardening swell between his legs.
The SUV stopped by the side of the road. Not a single car passed by on the lonely highway. Plenty of privacy for what she planned to do to him. She unbuttoned his jeans and prepared to reach for his length, but he pulled her hand away. “As much as I want you to touch me there,” he growled, “I prefer to have you with me in the driver’s seat.”
She purred as he reclined the seat. Rough hands grasped her waist and pulled her to straddle his hips. She pulled up his shirt to run her eager fingers down the hard muscles of his stomach. They clenched under her hands.
Oh, my. I could definitely get used to this.
He took off her shirt. She bit her lip as he nipped at her bra. “I have a year’s worth of work to catch up on.”
“Yes, you do.” She arched her back to give him access. He didn’t linger long, creating sparks of heat on her skin.
She wanted all of him. No inhibitions, no barriers. Only their bodies intertwined—seeking and exploring until the ultimate pleasure could be reached. Discarding their clothes in the car’s confines required acrobatics that left them laughing and smiling. But the grins ended as their mouths met.
“Please,” she whispered against his lips.
Kyle pulled her hips up, not needing to ask if she was prepared to take him. A sweet shiver passed through her as he plunged inside. Then he lifted her again—only to make her cry out in ecstasy when he brought her back down along his length. He stretched her body, filling her as he controlled the pace of her ride.
She thought her skin would burst from the seams, but he continued to torment her as he nipped at her neck. Her hips bucked twice, but he held them in place as she climaxed. Then with a shudder and hiss, his entire body tightened against hers. He held her close as the rapturous moment unfolded before them.
She could do this again and again.
He breathed into her neck. His next words were so soft, she barely heard them. “I love you, Em.”
She brushed her lips against the tip of his nose. The bliss of the moment left her heady.
“I love you, too.”
She released a deep breath, and everything came out. All the doubts, all the pain. Only them together forever, heartbeats matching.
“About time you claimed me,” she whispered.
He cocked a grin that made her smile back at him. “I’d claimed you a long time ago.”
THE END
Did you enjoy Bitten By Deceit?
Check out the Coveted Series by Shawntelle Madison
COVETED
Available now from Ballantine Books!
ISBN: 978-0345-52918-3
eBook ISBN: 978-0-345-53229-9
SOMETIMES WHAT YOU COVET IS IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP.
For werewolf Natalya Stravinsky, the supernatural is nothing extraordinary. What does seem strange is that she’s stuck in her hometown of South Toms River, New Jersey, the outcast of her pack, selling antiques to finicky magical creatures. Restless and recovering from her split with gorgeous ex-boyfriend, Thorn, Nat finds comfort in an unusual place: her obsessively collected stash of holiday trinkets. But complications pile up faster than her ornaments when Thorn returns home—and the two discover that the spark between them remains intense.
Before Nat can sort out their relationship, she must face a more immediate and dangerous problem. Her pack is under attack from the savage Long Island werewolves—and Nat is their first target in a turf war. Toss in a handsome wizard vying for her affection, a therapy group for the anxious and enchanted, and the South Toms River pack leader ready to throw her to the wolves, and it’s enough to give anybody a panic attack. With the stakes as high as the full moon, Nat must summon all of her strength to save her pack and, ultimately, herself.
KEPT (A COVETED NOVEL)
Coveted Series Book 2
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Release Date: November 27th, 2012
ISBN-10: 0345529170
ISBN-13: 978-0345529176
Fresh from defending her pack in battle, Natalya Stravinsky, a whip-smart werewolf with a lovable neurotic streak, wants a little rest and relaxation. Once an outcast, she’s now eager to rejoin the ranks of her New Jersey pack, and has even gotten a handle on her obsessive urge to hoard holiday ornaments. Yet Nat barely has time to revel in her progress before the next crisis comes howling at her door.
Nat’s father has suddenly gone missing, captured by the Russian werewolf mafia. And as Nat steps up to save her dad from a mob boss’s deadly game, two men step in to play another round for her heart: her gorgeous alpha ex-boyfriend, Thorn, and her new flame, the sweetly sensitive wizard Nick. With her life growing more harried by the minute, Nat must stay cool, calm, and collected . . . or else risk losing everything.
PREVIEW COLLECTED
THE PREQUEL NOVELLA TO COVETED
This story takes place seven months before Coveted begins.
The bid button on auction websites was an evil mistress that I’d love to drop. Whether their font was bold, cursive, or some other customer-grabbing style, those auctions snagged me each and every time. They also made me a promise. All I had to do to add to my ever-growing collection of trinkets was periodically press on my mouse like a junkie pining for the next fix. The only way to stop me from drying up my bank account with repeated bids was the satisfaction of seeing my username, NatalyaStravinsky, as the highest bidder.
Thankfully, with a high-speed Internet connection and quick-moving fingers, I collected my latest prize: A haunted Victorian figuri
ne from the 1800s that a woman had once used to off her philandering husband. Cast in bronze with a perfect sheen, it was ideal for either inducing blunt force trauma or as a centerpiece for an end table.
That last auction I won ended five days ago, and I knew my winnings were due to arrive today. I’d taken the afternoon off work and drove slightly over the speed limit down Garden State Parkway. Along the way, I berated every slow-driving citizen of South Toms River, New Jersey. Didn’t they know my prized package was waiting on my doorstep?
Anticipation tingled down my arms as I drove up my long driveway to my cottage. On any other day, I would’ve admired all the hard work I’d done to prepare the flowerbeds along the road. Or even the fragrant flowers that had recently blossomed below the dogwood tree near the house. No, what caught my eye was my doorstep.
My box was missing.
My nose, quite keen even for a werewolf, told me that no one had been here since I left the cottage. And I knew the deliveryman’s aftershave-laden scent too well. Since I lived right outside of town there were no neighbors to consider. No one had taken it from the house.
A sane person might track the package online or call the delivery truck. Since I ordered so much from the Home Shopping Network, the deliveryman—James—knew me by name and was also aware of how twitchy I became if a package didn’t arrive on time.
Instead of calling him—I’d show some self-control for at least five minutes—I focused on my prize and waited patiently. Two minutes later, I caved and my smartphone told me the obvious: PACKAGE DROPPED OFF. SIGNATURE RETRIEVED AT 10:50 A.M.
Naturally, as I clutched the phone tight enough to crush it, my first thought was by whom. Especially since I lived alone and didn’t expect any friends—you needed to have some in the first place—to come by and pick it up.
My fingers trembled as I dialed James’ cell phone. With each ring, my heartbeat thundered, leaving me bitter that it took so long to connect. After the fourth one, James finally answered.
“Hey! You like your gift?” His gruff voice always sounded cheerful during the spring time. He was less cordial when snow was piled on the walkway.
“Gift? I just got home.”
He laughed softly. “So you’re telling me you forgot you met me at the mailbox this morning?”
If a heart defibrillator had been nearby, I would’ve jolted myself with the damn thing.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, c’mon,” he jested. “You were standing by the side of the road. It was rather nice of you, by the way, instead of forcing me to drive up your long driveway. At first, I was kinda surprised since you looked so unusual.”
My voice came out higher-pitched than usual. “In what way?”
As a human, James didn’t know about the world of supernatural creatures around him. Surely, the most he knew about werewolves were from what he’d seen on TV or in books.
“Usually, you’re so dressed up, but you were in jeans for once. You should wear them more often.”
His voice faded as the phone dropped out of my hand. I could still hear him, but that didn’t matter anymore. Someone, looking just like me, had taken my package. My fingertips brushed against my blouse and pencil skirt. They were clean, of course—even after a few hours of work. My standard uniform. Since I wore the same set of clothes every day, anything off from my routine should’ve stood out to someone like James.
Which led me to my super genius moment: I’d been robbed in broad daylight.
I barely remembered how I ended my call with James, maybe I’d mumbled thanks or something, but I did recall racing down my driveway—in low-heels and all—to reach the road. My gaze quickly went to the ground. Then my nose went to the air. All the clues should be here waiting for me.
While I scanned the grass and surrounding tree line, my brain chewed on ideas. I paced back and forth, trying to wrap my head around what could’ve happened. A small branch broke in the distance, drawing my eye—but it was nothing but a large bird. The whole forest had a bunch of wildlife. Even the fragrant pine and ash trees would’ve been a delight to visitors, but to me they were an olfactory distraction.
As I walked, I approached a familiar large rock. The sight of it stirred memories in my mind. The dark gray stone—about the size of a head—reminded me of the “for sale” sign that had leaned against it five years ago. The grass had been overgrown back then, but I’d ignored it. At the time, I’d been steadfast for a new start. That included a new job as a clerk at the Bend of the River Flea Market, or The Bends as the locals called it. I worked day-to-day for a goblin boss named Bill, selling antiques to finicky supernatural creatures along the Parkway.
All of those things, including my new home, were a way to forget about the man who haunted my past.
The task at hand attacked me like a horsefly. Dwelling on what I did with my life after I got kicked out of the pack wouldn’t help me find the package.
First of all, whoever did this knew I’d been expecting a package. Second, it had to be a supernatural, someone with the ability to alter how they looked. A glamour, or appearance-altering spell, could be thrown about by most forest-dwelling creatures such as brownies, goblins, and the like. Sure, those magical troublemakers operated businesses around here, but a few of them made mischief whenever possible.
All of this meant another werewolf didn’t do this. A lingering scent confirmed my suspicions. It flowed around my nose, damp and heavy like rich moss sprinkled with a metallic smell. A distinct one at that. A pair of tracks revealed someone with tennis shoes. My size, no doubt. Whoever did this had waited in the grass by the road and strolled right up to it. From there, the shoes walked twenty feet and then somehow shrank down a bit. The trail led southward.
For a split-second, I was tempted to discard my shoes and track them on foot. That’s what any other werewolf would do. But I didn’t operate that way, nor would I even entertain that idea, no matter how much I wanted that box. The very idea of ruining my pantyhose was enough to make me get in my car. With my options limited, I rolled down the window and hoped my prey wasn’t far away.
* * *
The trail took me south beyond South Toms River toward the deeper woods. Jakes Branch County Park loomed to the west with the town of Beachwood to the east. Most of the pack ran here during the full moon as wolves.
When the scent began to dissipate, I pulled off to the side of the road. All around me was nothing but trees. I peered through the brush, hoping for a building or some structure. With none nearby, the obvious question came to mind: How badly did I want that box? (A lot.) Did I want it enough to go into the forest? (Damn right, I paid a pretty penny for expedited shipping, too.) All the while, my fingers tapped against the steering wheel. Having an obsessive-compulsive disorder really messed with me at times. Especially right now. The compulsion to stay clean nipped at me, while the wolf inside grew excited over the prospects of a hunt. It had been far too long since I’d hunted prey bigger than the rabbits hiding along my property.
After a few deep breaths, I managed to open the door. No, I just couldn’t get dirty. I couldn’t go running off through the woods into God knew what—poison ivy, spiderwebs, or worse. I’d have to bathe for hours to get it all off me. The next step should’ve been to leave the car. Unfortunately, I used it to shut the door.
There had to be another way. Some other way to reach my destination and maintain my sanity. I kept driving south.
The scent wasn’t as heavy, but it remained.
Eventually, a right-hand turn appeared. Maybe a real path could be found. The gravel road led to a vacant lot with a small building and a tool shed. Based on the shape of the large building at one corner, a township stored their snow plows here. Bags of salt were stacked on top of each other. Not far from the piles was a second gravel path. My nose told me to go that way.
I pulled off the side, got out of the car, and then slowly strode toward the path. The scent was ever so faint, like detecting perfume left on clothes from
the night before. The trail led me behind the buildings.
Spring had sprung all around me, yet I didn’t notice its fragrance due to the forest’s filth. Broken branches covered in sickly green moss. There had to be red trilliums nearby. The wildflower was lovely, but it stank to high heaven like carrion. Sadly, the only thing that smelled sweet was the faint fragrance of barren strawberries that had yet to come into full bloom. Yet another scent prevailed over everything, a swampy one from the rain that had fallen a few days ago.
Every awkward step in my heels sent shocks of pain into my ankles. But I kept going. I kept moving. What drew me forward was the hunger for confrontation, the hunger to see whatever had taken what was rightfully mine.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to touch any trees or step on anything other than the gravel. The dust from the path would be easy enough to clean off. After a ways, the path turned into a clearing. With each step, I told myself, Stop looking around you. Don’t think about the fallen trees. Don’t think about the grass, and for goodness sake, don’t think about your damn shoes.
I was a werewolf, and I needed to focus on the hunt.
Rays of sunlight peeked through the trees. Branches hovered over the clearing like a mother protecting her child from the rain. But even with the speckled light, I could make out some kind of tool shed surrounded by a graveyard of scrap metal. The haphazard piles included refrigerators, televisions, and other electronics.
I sucked in a breath. They were rusted, putrid things.
Right next to the junk, leaning against the shed, was another unsteady structure which couldn’t be classified as a home. Bits and pieces of the scrap metal, along with crumbled bricks, had been used to protect it from the elements. A thick tree, most likely oak, jutted out from the back and provided ample shade over the shed and ramshackle house. My mom always said a home was any place where you could burn what you caught and quartered, but this was ridiculous. I gazed with disdain at the place. At the mud along the bent-in door. What kind of person lived like this?
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