by T. S. Joyce
“I’m tired of you, and I’ve only been around you for five minutes,” Larius assured her.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, backing slowly to the wall.
Larius told her, “We’re here to rehab you into a decent person.”
Sable snickered beside him. She was wearing black leggings, black leather ankle boots, and a ripped-up tank top to go with a style she’d enjoyed in modern times. Her breasts looked amazing in this outfit. She was the most beautiful ghost in the whole universe.
“Yeah, it was hard saying that with a straight face. We don’t care about rehabbing you.” Larius gestured to the post between the bedroom and a sprawling master bathroom. “That support beam sure looks like it’s seen better days.”
“It’s brand new,” Alexis barked.
He snapped his fingers and the beam splintered and sagged. The ceiling groaned and sheetrock dust rained down on Alexis. She yelped and covered her ears, knelt against the wall. “What do you want from me? What do you want?”
“To scare you for a while. Maybe kill you.”
“Kill me?” she screamed. Ew, her high-pitched voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
“Maybe kill you,” Sable amended.
“Or not,” Larius said, reveling in the hope in Alexis’s stupid face.
“But maybe so,” Sable said through a grin.
Larius agreed. “Probably a little bit of killing.”
“Maybe a smidge of torture.”
“Definitely nightmares every night,” Larius said with a definitive nod. “Make it scary to close your eyes before you go to sleep.”
Sable giggled. “We have a whole lot of time on our hands, and we are very bored.”
“And creative. Maybe we should surprise her when we kill her.”
“If we kill her. Maybe it would be better to let her live in her bitterness for as many years as possible. She’s a very miserable being.” Sable was so good at toying with her.
Larius shrugged. “Or maybe a tree falls on her tomorrow if she annoys us enough. Surprise!”
Alexis jumped at the last word. Oh yeah, he’d forgotten werewolves had such sensitive hearing.
Sable leaned into his side and snuggled against him. In the mushiest voice, she uttered, “I love it when you’re all murdery.”
“Why are you fucking with me?” Alexis whimpered.
“We’re not fucking with you,” Larius said. “We’re haunting you.”
“You see,” Sable explained. “A long, long time ago, I was killed trying to protect the Silver Wolf Clan. Why? Because some of them were my friends. And it was the right thing to do. And I couldn’t protect them, but now? Now, I can.” She gave a sharp-toothed smile, and the color drained from Alexis’s face. “I can protect them from you.”
“We heard what you did to Morgan. Heard about all the treachery over the years,” he murmured.
“Who…who are you?” she whispered to him under the groaning of the ceiling.
“I used to be called Larius. But now?” He allowed the smile to fall from his face. “You can call me Karma.”
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About the Author
T.S. Joyce is an 80-time bestselling author devoted to bringing hot shifter romances to readers. Hungry alpha males are her calling card, and the wilder the men, the more she'll make them pour their hearts out. She lives in a tiny town, outside of a tiny city, and devotes her life to writing big stories. Foodie, bear whisperer, ninja, thief of tiny bottles of awesome smelling hotel shampoo, nap connoisseur, movie fanatic, and zombie slayer, and most of this bio is true.
Bear Shifters? Check
Smoldering Alpha Hotness? Double Check
Sexy Scenes? Fasten up your girdles, ladies and gents, it’s gonna to be a wild ride.
For more information about T. S. Joyce and her work, visit her website here.