by Anne Marsh
“You’d wan’ me here?” he asked. “You have the room for this?”
“I’d need a bigger bed,” she acknowledged with a smile, “but, yes, Rafer. This is my home. I want you in it. I want your brothers with us. I’m Pack too now.”
A blinding smile lit up his face. God, he was beautiful. He held her heart in his big hands.
His teeth nipped her ear. “That’s good. You’re sure?”
“More than sure, but…” she paused, “…this place won’t be mine for much longer. The bank’s taking it, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to let go.”
“There’s always the houseboat,” he said and then tightened his arms playfully around her when she mock-growled at him.
“That’s not a house,” she teased. “That’s a hunting camp. We’re going to be doing some serious redecorating.”
She hadn’t known her wolf man could look guilty. Or that the sheepish expression would be so endearing. “That’s not a problem,” he admitted. “I paid off the note on this place yesterday. You don’ have to leave. Not until or unless you wan’ to.” He pressed his fingers against her lips when she would have said something. “Let me do this for you. Not because you can’t handle things somehow, someway, on your own, but because you’ll trust me to do what needs doing for the both of us.” His fingers stroked down her arm. “This is your place. Your lair. You decide who goes, who stays.”
Instinct warred with desire. She’d stand on her own two feet. Always had. And now he tempted her with an impossible gift. “Are you going?”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere unless you tell me go. But you be sure about what you want.” His heated, possessive look made it plenty clear what he wanted.
Mama Jolie’s words danced in her head. You wan’ be real careful, sha. You got a decision to be making. Stay. Go. You’re choosin’ now.”
Mama Jolie had been right.
Lark was staying right here in the arms of her wolf.
~~~~
Rafer didn’t want Lark taking him because she felt she had no choice—he wanted to be chosen. She’d picked him last night on the bayou, when Luc had pressed her, but that wasn’t the picking that mattered most. Last night she’d chosen with her body.
Today she was choosing with her heart.
“Did you choose me?” Those brown eyes watched him like she could see straight inside him.
“Hell, yeah.” He nipped her ear, the gesture rough-tender. “You bet I did.”
“Without the blue moon?” she gasped. She squirmed, trying playfully to get away, and his hands grasped her hips, holding her still for his erotic punishment. He’d never get enough of her.
“That moon was just a convenient excuse,” he growled.
“You did come out here before,” she agreed, not hiding the hunger in her eyes. A smile curved her lips, an invitation to play.
He loved her sexy games. “I bought you flowers.”
“The flowers were for me?”
There was no stopping the answering grin tugging at his mouth. “Sure they were. Even though you wouldn’t let me pay for them, chère.”
“You can pay me back in other ways.” Her throaty whisper promised a sensual retribution.
“You got it.” His arms braced her, his head lowering.
“I’m all yours,” he declared. “Blue moon or no blue moon, I love you.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his hard body where she wanted to be.
She was his heart. His soul. Without her, he was the animal and not the man. What he wanted from her was more than he’d wanted from any woman before. He wanted her words and her promises. He wanted her love.
He wouldn’t take.
But he would have to ask.
“You sure there’s a chance you could love me back?” he asked. She’d given him those words, but in the heat of passion. He wanted to hear those same words now, when they weren’t in bed.
Her arms tightened around him. “Chase me and find out,” she teased.
Ducking under his arm, she danced away from him. Her playful laughter set him on fire, and her heated glance had his wolf on the prowl. “I’m thinking loving you is going to be all too easy, Rafer Breaux. You come catch me again. See if you can remind me why hunting is so much fun.”
Still laughing, she darted outside, running towards the stand of cypress trees, delighting both the wolf and the man. He ran after her, but not too fast because he didn’t want to end their game. His feet hit the ground, the steady rhythm echoing the drumbeat in his heart. “I’ll always come for you, chère.”
She was theirs to hunt.
Theirs to love.
THE HUNT
CAUGHT!
“Open up,” he demanded, inhaling her scent, drawing her taste deep inside him as she gasped in reaction. Her lips parted, let him invade her hot sweetness and he was lost, his Cat purring with a sensual recognition he’d never found before. His femi wanted him, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
He could live with that. For now.
Later, later he could teach her to revel in his dominance. Hear the whispered pleas she’d give him for her own sensual satisfaction. In time, she’d give him that. Right now, he wanted just one word.
“Give me your name.”
BOND WITH ME
Had his eyes darkened? Surely, he couldn’t smell her arousal. He couldn’t know what she fantasized about at night. He was a fallen angel, not a mind reader.
Then again, fallen angels specialized in bringing fantasies to life.
Self-consciously, Pell shifted on the leather seat, the slick material clinging to her bare skin. This was awkward. She knew Dathan had a certain reputation among her human friends, but she’d never seen this side of him. The charming, nonchalant companion had vanished.
Dathan’s hand, strong and sure, stroked an unfamiliar path across her bare thigh. His eyes didn’t release hers, and that hand—that wicked hand—continued its slow, bold march higher.
They’d been friends for ages, so why was he doing this now? And why was she so interested in letting him? Was this all because she’d told him about her stalker?
His hand nudged her thighs apart. She knew she should resist. But at the same time she didn’t want to. Nothing screwed up a friendship faster than sex, and yet…
His fingers inched to the edge of her thong.
“We’re in the middle of a club, Dathan. Someone will see.” Could he tell how wet she was for him?
He shook his head slowly. “This is mine.”
His fingers pressed against her core, rubbing the soaked fabric of her panties against her pussy.
She heard herself whimper his name, the dark, needy whisper from her own mouth shocking her.
“You’re going to bond with me, Pell,” he said in the unfamiliar, hard voice. “And in exchange, I’ll keep you safe.”
From the man on her trail, maybe. She had no doubt he could do that.
But who was going to keep her safe from Dathan?
Look for these titles by Anne Marsh
The Fallen
BOND WITH ME
HIS DARK BOND
SAVAGE BOND
Hunter’s Mate
THE HUNT
Smoke Jumpers
BURNING UP
SLOW BURN (April 2013)
Dawson Brothers
ONE HOT COWBOY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After ten years of graduate school and too many degrees, Anne Marsh escaped to become a technical writer. When not planted firmly in front of the laptop translating Engineering into English, Anne enjoys gardening, running (even if it’s just to the 7-11 for Slurpees), and reading books curled up with her kids. The best part of writing romance, however, is finally being able to answer the question: “So… what do you do with a PhD in Slavic languages and literatures?” She lives in Northern California with her husband, two kids and five cats.
For a complete listing of books, as well as excerpts, news and contests:
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p; Visit Anne’s website at: www.anne-marsh.com
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen