by Aline Hunter
No one wanted to fuck with the alpha of a pack.
“What do you want me to do about it?” Wolfe sighed, lowered his head and stole a quick kiss before he continued, “We don’t make bargains with wizards.”
Wolfe listened as Luke spoke. His jaw clenched and he ordered briskly, “Contact Sheriff McAvoy. If he can’t help, then you can call me back.” He snapped the phone closed and tossed the offending piece of technology several feet away.
“What was that all about?” She laughed, happy to have his attention again. She felt his adoration and the wonder he always experienced at her nearness. Even better? She felt the same way about him.
He cupped her face, brushing his thumbs against her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Are you sure?”
He lowered his head until they were nose-to-nose and cupped her ass. A simple shift of his hips and she felt the hard ridge of his cock prodding her cleft. “Does that answer your question?”
Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gazed into his emerald-hued eyes. “Absolutely.”
The pack would have to wait.
For now, the alpha was all hers.
Let the games begin.
About the Author
Aline Hunter is the alias of multi-published author J.A. Saare, who has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies and flash fiction contests. Her work has a notable dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music and choices in reading, and has been described as “full of sensual promise,” “gritty and sexy” and “a breath of fresh air.”
Currently she is penning multiple projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and paranormal romance categories. You can visit her online at www.alinehunter.com and www.jasaare.com.
Passion and danger awaken in the dark…
Edge of Night
© 2013 Crystal Jordan
The Night, Book 3
Like most humans, Erin was totally in the dark about the hocus pocus going on around her, until she learned a hairy little secret—her aunt and her new husband were both werewolves.
To say family politics got complicated is an understatement, especially when she dated and broke up with a vampire. She has no plans to get involved again with anyone anytime soon, but hey, a girl has to scratch an itch every now and then.
FBI agent Luca Cavalli doesn’t mind Erin’s occasional booty call. He’s not looking for commitment, either. Plus, her family would be none too pleased to learn she’s seeing another vampire.
But when a stalker starts making Erin’s life hell, memories of other women Luca’s loved and lost punch him in the gut. She’s in danger and he’s determined to provide her with protection that’s as up close and personal as it gets…
Warning: Stalkers and werewolves, vampires and gun-toting FBI agents out for vengeance. Vampire-on-human naughtiness in every imaginable position—front door, back door, tied up, upside down, and sideways. A little orgasmic biting just makes it that much better.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Edge of Night:
Someone was watching her.
Awareness prickled along Erin’s nerves and made the hair rise on the back of her neck. She froze, her breath stopping as her gaze darted around the empty restaurant. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She’d watched the last of her employees leave ten minutes ago, and no one had come in since, but she could feel eyes on her. Staring. Boring into her skin.
It wasn’t the first time she’d had this feeling recently.
She needed to get the hell out of here. Her purse, with her car keys, was in the kitchen, so she hurried in that direction, hoping the sense of being watched, cornered like prey, would fade as she went. It didn’t. When she reached the threshold of the kitchen—normally her domain as the chef—she hesitated, glancing around again. Had someone managed to hide in there? She swallowed, swiping her clammy palms on her pants. There was a wooden stand with her knives to the left, and she grabbed the closest one.
Not bothering to strip out of her chef’s jacket as she normally would have, she scooped up her purse and scurried down the long galley kitchen toward the back door. Ten more feet left…five…a few more steps and she’d escape. A clattering explosion of sound erupted just behind her and she whirled and screamed, the knife raised to fend off her attacker.
A massive orange tabby cat hissed and spit, leaping over the soup pot he’d overturned. In the process, he careened into a stack of freshly-washed muffin tins, scattering them across the counter. He looked at her, blinked. “Meow.”
“Balthasar,” she said faintly.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage and she sucked in a breath. Adrenaline still pumped through her system, making her hands quake. She dropped the knife onto the countertop and bent over to brace her hands against her knees. “Jesus.”
Just a cat, Erin. Nothing to freak out about. She shook her head. Letting the air ease out of her lungs, she straightened and found the big tabby had parked himself on the counter nearest her, purring as if scaring the shit out of her was no big deal. Sighing, she rubbed his back. “Sorry, kitty, the kitchen is closed for the night. No scraps for you.”
His whiskers drooped pathetically, as if she’d stolen his will to live.
“Besides, you made a mess.” She gestured with the hand holding her purse.
Looking over his shoulder, he flicked his ears at the offending cookware, which rose in the air for a moment before settling back into its former order. Goose bumps shivered across her skin, the only indication she, a Normal, would have that magic was occurring. Erin arched her eyebrows at the cat. “Impressive.”
His purr revved, and he bumped her fingers with his head, indicating that she should pet him for his efforts. She snorted and picked up the familiar to cuddle him close. He didn’t belong to her. Magickal animals didn’t attach themselves to non-Magickal people, but she knew his owner well. She’d been sleeping with him off and on for almost a year. The booty-call arrangement worked well for both of them. Lately, though, the man’s familiar had been making himself at home in Erin’s restaurants and condo. How Balthasar got inside them, she never knew. The security systems she had in place had been installed by Magickals, and they used magic and technology to ward off uninvited visitors. Her security systems should keep the cat out, but they didn’t.
Maybe all the creepy, being-watched feelings lately had come from Balthasar. The sensation had stopped now that the cat had popped up. She didn’t know though. The stare had felt more…malevolent…than she thought the familiar could ever manage. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Nothing had ever come of the feeling—no one had ever approached her or jumped out from behind a dumpster. No boogiemen in the dark.
Perhaps she just needed more sleep. Blowing out a breath, she gave Balthasar a last cuddle and then set him on the floor. “Time to lock up. Behave and I might have a treat for you at my house.”
The cat made a little chirrup of interest, darted ahead of her and sat by the door. She set the alarm on her security system, then ushered Balthasar out and turned to lock the door behind them.
“Nice night out.”
She jolted at the voice that sounded directly behind her. But she knew that voice. Relief crashed over her just as suddenly as the terror had—a rollercoaster that left her head spinning. Her hand clamped tight on her keys, trying not to let them betray the shudder that ran through her. When she knew her expression wouldn’t give her emotions away, she finished locking the door and turned around.
“Hey, Luca.” A thought occurred to her. Had Luca been watching her? Maybe through a window? No, his gaze would definitely feel more naughty than malevolent. Still, she had to ask. “How long have you been waiting for me?”
“I just got here. Your timing is perfect.”
Balthasar wound his way around his owner’s ankles, getting cat fur all over the expensive-looking suit. Luca glowered down at his familiar, flashing a bit of vampi
ric fang when his lip curled in disgust. His familiar didn’t appear impressed, so Luca shook his head and sighed. “Really? Must you shed all over the Armani?”
The cat’s eyes widened in an innocent look that didn’t fool anyone.
“Your accent gets thicker when you’re annoyed.” Erin dropped her keys into her purse. Though she knew Luca was originally from Italy, his accent was faint enough that it was difficult to tell. Unless he was irritated. Or passionate. She had no idea how long he’d been in America or even how old he was. He could be forty or four hundred, and she wouldn’t be able to tell. Magickals tended to stop aging somewhere in their thirties and stayed that way for five hundred years before they croaked. That kind of lifespan still boggled her mind, but she’d only known about magic of any kind for a handful of years, so there was a lot she didn’t know and even more she didn’t quite understand.
Her Aunt Angela had married a werewolf, Darren Kerr, and he’d Changed her into a wolf too. But it was all one massive secret—Magickals were as far in the closet as they could get. They had to receive approval from the All-Magickal Council to tell anyone about the existence of magic. Angela and Darren had been married for decades and Erin hadn’t known a thing about their big hairy secret. It wasn’t until she’d moved to Seattle and opened a restaurant with Darren’s other niece, Holly, that they’d gotten permission to clue her in.
“You can take the man out of Italy, but you can never take Italy out of the man.” Luca glanced up and snared her with his gaze. A little grin kicked up one corner of his full lips. “I came to see if you were available for the evening.”
“They have this invention now, you know. It’s called a cell phone.”
“True.” He stepped closer, ducking down until their eyes were level. Almost close enough to kiss. His breath brushed over her lips when he spoke. “But I find I get better results in person. If I’d called, you might have said you’d had a long day and were too tired to see me.” The tips of his fingers grazed the curve of her hip, and her breath hitched in reaction. Even so simple a touch could make her body begin to ready itself for more. “It’s harder to say no to someone standing right in front of you.”
He was being presumptuous, but that didn’t mean he was wrong. Her pulse sped, heat flowing inside her like liquid fire. She wanted him. Always. She could pretend to be pissy, but as a vampire, he’d be able to tell her heart-rate and body temperature had elevated. As a regular person, she was at a disadvantage most of time, but she didn’t have to let that stop her from winning. Holding his gaze, she reached out to cup his cock through his trousers. He choked, sucking in a shocked breath as her fingers traced the outline of his shaft. A low hiss burst from his throat, his fangs baring as he thrust his hips forward to increase the contact.
She felt him lengthen by the second and lust tightened his features. In the harsh light of the parking lot, she could see his face flush. Making him respond for her was a rush—it always had been. The man was powerful in every sense of the word—rich, well-connected, Magickal, an FBI agent with all the authority that came with it—and there were times when she could make him beg for her. It damn near made her purr.
Her grip tightened on the rigid arc of his dick, and she rolled her thumb over the head where a bit of precome had seeped through his pants. “You’re right. It’s so hard to say no to someone standing in front of you.”
“Your place is closer than mine.” His voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl. “Let’s go or I will take you against the door. Now.”
No one can outfly the speed of fate.
Secret Passions
© 2013 Loribelle Hunt
Forbidden Passions, Book 5
Though Sara Beth Reynard shuns the spotlight, her sensual animal nature always draws unwanted attention. On the rare occasions she leaves fox territory to supervise a construction project, humans are her number one hassle.
When the discovery of human/animal DNA makes her a sleazy tabloid’s lead story, Sara finds the whole thing laughable. Right up until some goon attempts to kidnap her. Worse, her alpha sends her to the wereeagles, clan of her childhood nemesis, for help.
Patrick Aquila takes one look at the grown-up version of “Foxy”, and wants to peel away all her layers of uptight and proper. His attempt to show her a night of lighthearted fun turns into an off-the-charts explosion of passion. But romance among weres is never that simple.
Patrick is in a race against time to convince Sara Beth they belong together, and find the snitch who is feeding information to not just one stalker, but two. The reporter who wants to hang her out to dry, and a hunter who wants to hand her over to her worst nightmare.
Warning: A reluctant fox, a sexy alpha eagle willing to pull every erotic trick in the book to keep her, and an obsessed big game hunter.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Secret Passions:
Someone had to die, but she couldn’t decide who should go first. The list was growing. Some asshole had attacked her. Her father and Michael had insisted she come here. And now Patrick, the grown-up teenage crush from Hell, was…she wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t exactly flirting, was he? But he seemed to be trying to engage her on a personal level she knew she shouldn’t allow. If he wanted to hop into bed, she was so there. But she wasn’t about to get emotionally involved with an adrenaline-junkie eagle.
On second thought, sex was probably a bad idea. She might not be able to protect her heart if he touched her, if she gave in to the desire to feel him over her—moving in her. It would probably be a colossal mistake.
She was a fox, for crissakes. She did home and hearth and she did it damned well, thank you very much. She wanted comfort and warmth and a man who was devoted to her because of it. Patrick would never be that man, which was a cryin’ shame, but as her favorite aunt always said, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”
The hell of it was Patrick was the only man who’d ever tempted her wild side. He hadn’t noticed her since the day he’d gone off to college, three years before her. She hadn’t been as blind. And this was who she got stuck with as a bodyguard? Hell with that. Two days tops and she was going home. She’d hire someone if she had to. There were plenty of werewolves in the personal protection business.
Actually, if she’d been thinking straight, that would have occurred to her earlier. She was an idiot and irritated with herself so she might have been a bit testy when she asked about sleeping arrangements. It all went downhill from there.
“Where is the guest room?”
“There’s only one bedroom in the house,” he said. “We’ll be sharing.”
Oh fuck no. She might think about trying him on for size, but she knew the danger to her heart. “I’ll take the couch.”
“The hell you will,” he snapped.
“Does that mean you will?” she asked, sweetly even though she could tell by his scent and expression he intended to sleep with her. More than sleep. His arousal was rich and masculine. Seductive.
“You’re pushing it, foxy.”
“Don’t call me that,” she bit out. Gods, she hated that nickname. “Frankly, it’s insulting. You called me that when I was an unattractive kid you wanted to get rid of. It isn’t getting you anywhere now, I promise.”
She just wanted to go home. For some reason, her ego was more bruised now than right after the attempted kidnapping. It took every ounce of her control not to respond when he stepped closer and stroked his hands up her arms.
“You were beautiful. Why do you think I called you that? So sensual, so sexy and so damned young,” he whispered. “You scared me. You made me feel things I wasn’t supposed to feel. You were too young for me then.”
She wrenched out of his grasp and knew her smile was saccharine sweet, totally fake. “I’m still too young for you. You can take the couch.”
She tried to stalk away before he could protest, but she wasn’t fast enough. He stopped the bedroom door from shutting with ease, slapping his palm against it as she tried to push it
closed. There was no way she could compete with his strength and she didn’t see the point in embarrassing herself by trying. She set her hands on her hips and used the look her brothers called the death glare. Unfortunately, it didn’t have much effect on a tall, well-built wereeagle. And why the hell were eagles so damned tall when she was cursed with shortness?
“What’s that look for?” His expression may have been calm, but she was pleased to hear the exasperation in his tone.
“Do you have to keep looming over me?” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. The sun had set hours ago. She just wanted to change and curl up in bed. “Go away. It’s been one annoying thing after the other today and you’re making it worse.”
He arched an eyebrow, pale blond and as perfectly sculpted as the rest of him. His hair was pulled back, but she guessed it was about shoulder length loose. And those eyes…bright, shocking blue. He was tall, his body roped with muscles she wanted to explore. He was disgustingly good-looking and if he got serious about seducing her she knew her resistance would turn to dust with the slightest effort on his part. It wasn’t fair, was it?
“First of all, I don’t loom,” he said. “Second, I am not leaving you alone.”
She wanted to scream. Or throw something at him. “Why am I with you anyway? You’re Ajax’s senior advisor. Bodyguard duty isn’t exactly in your job description, is it?”
“No one else can keep you as safe as I can,” he said, arrogant and haughty.
“Wow. Does that hurt?”
He looked confused. “What?”
“Carrying around a head swelled that big.”
At first he looked stunned. She doubted anyone ever gave him grief over anything. Then he stunned her. He laughed, deep and full, totally genuine. When he reached for her, it didn’t occur to her to dodge. He held her close with one hand on her ass and the other on the back of her head. As she became aware of every hard inch of his body, he fell silent.