Pack Hunter

by Crissy Smith

  “I don’t have to think about it,” she said, curling her hands into his shirt. “My dad’s the sheriff. That already puts me in the line of fire. And I’m not willing to give you up because of what might happen.”

  “I just want you to be sure.”

  “Well then, I suspect that you will just have to keep a close eye on me. Maybe even…” She leaned close and rubbed against him suggestively.

  “Oh yeah,” he murmured and brought his mouth down on hers.

  This kiss was deeper than the others earlier. Passionate and seductive. Clint moved his hands around and down until he cupped her ass and raised her up.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted her legs to his waist. Her back hit the door and she rocked into his hold. Clint’s mouth left hers and he nipped and sucked down her neck.

  “Gonna mark you, make you mine,” he whispered.

  “Yours,” she replied, grinding down. She was wet and ready.

  He thrust up and she gasped.

  “Take me upstairs,” she pleaded.

  Without releasing her neck or letting her down, her carried her to the bedroom. Once there he fell onto the bed, Clint twisting at the last minute so he hit the bed, with her on top.

  She straddled his waist and threw her hair back. He pushed up her shirt and clamped his lips down over her breast. She arched back, burying her hands in his hair.

  They took their time undressing each other. Hands slid on sweaty skin, lips kissed, tongues tasted. It was slow and intense.

  When she couldn’t stand another second, she rose and grasped his cock. She shifted into the right position and slowly started to lower herself. Clint gripped her hips hard and she loved that strength.

  Once he was fully inside, she rocked a few times before she lifted up a little. She started to ride him with the same unhurried pace they’d used before.

  Clint snapped his hips up and matched her rhythm. He panted under her, giving drawn-out moans of craving.

  She sped up a little, slamming down and placing her hands over his well-defined chest for balance.

  God, there had never been another time that making love had felt so good, so right.

  Her hair fell into her face. It became a curtain around them as Clint grabbed her face to bring her down for an excited kiss.

  Harder, faster, that was all she could think about. More, she needed more.

  She didn’t realize she had spoken out loud until Clint flipped her back onto the mattress and plunged deep inside at a more rapid pace.

  He thrust and drove into her while she cried out for him. Sweat dripped from his face to her neck. He pushed her knees farther up to her chest.

  Yes! Yes! She was almost there.

  She sobbed out once she was pushed over the edge into completion. Clint snapped his hips a few more times before he roared out his own release.

  He collapsed on top of her, panting.

  Holy hell, that had been absolutely amazing. Yeah, there was no doubt she would be keeping him around for a very long time.

  She whimpered while he began to pull out, wanting to keep the connection with him.

  “We’re on the wrong side of the bed,” he commented with amusement.

  “Humph,” she grunted. Like she really cared.

  He laughed and gently lifted and moved her so her head was on a pillow and the sheet covered her. He settled next to her and wrapped one strong arm around her waist to pull her close.

  She reached down and entwined their fingers together. Her eyes were still closed and she was sleepy—a wonderful, deep, contented exhaustion from spent passion.

  Oh yeah. She planned on ending every night like this.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  Eternal

  Crissy Smith

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Jo Black pulled into the barely lit parking lot of the club Eternal. It was just shy of midnight, and she had already hit two other clubs. She was on a mission that had yet to be fulfilled. She knew she couldn’t go home until it was.

  She’d spent weeks preparing for tonight—what she would wear, how she would talk, and how she’d get him to leave with her. Her whole life came down to this one night, and she had to be ready. She could not fail in this mission.

  Slowly, she walked towards the front door. Her black knee-high boots crunched on the gravel, making more noise than she’d expected. She stopped and took in her surroundings. A cold shiver ran down her spine, and she felt like she was being watched. She turned in a complete circle but saw no one and nothing moved. Shaking her head, she continued to the door.

  She wore a short black skirt that didn’t come anywhere near her knees and red silk shirt that was cut low and tight, teasing with the flash of flesh when she moved. Her long brown hair was left loose, falling in silky strands down past the middle of her back. She would turn heads when she walked in, as she had when she’d entered the other two clubs earlier. But she knew what she wanted and would wait for him. Only he would do.

  Opening the door, she blinked several times to adjust to the low light. The music wasn’t as loud as the other clubs she’d visited but it immediately caught her attention with its low tone and soft, inviting feel. It had a jazzy feel to it. She wasn’t sure what she was listening to, but she liked it. Someone cleared their throat to her left and she realised she had been staring into the club. The woman behind the stand smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Invitation please,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Jo slid her hand down her leg to her boot and took out the black and silver invitation Roger had given her earlier that night. She handed it to the woman without saying a word. She wasn’t sure how Roger had gotten the invitation; she just hoped it worked and got her in.

  The woman took her time, looking at the invitation, then at her. Nodding her head, she told Jo, “Go ahead.”

  That was it. She was in.

  This was one of the most exclusive clubs in town and Jo Black had just gotten through the door. A quick jolt of thrill went through her. This was it, she could feel it.

  She nodded and smiled at the bouncer who stood next to the stand. She hadn’t noticed him before. He seemed to have shifted out of the shadows.

  As he let her pass, she realised the club was far nicer than she expected. There were no strobe lights like there were in most clubs. This club was dark, very dark, with only a few lamps on the walls around the booths. She could see the outline of bodies sitting at tables or booths close to one another.

  As she walked closer into the middle of the club, she watched the dance floor where people swayed slowly against one another. This wasn’t what she was used to. She swallowed hard, knowing that, if this was the place, she was way out of her league.

  Ignoring the feeling of dread and fear that curled in her stomach, she headed to the bar. She took a seat on one of the empty bar stools and glanced around. There were only five other stools occupied, all men and all looking at her. She didn’t smile at them, didn’t bat her eyes, or give a flirty look. Roger had told her to sit. Sit and wait, and he would find her.

  She had asked what to do if no one approached her, but Roger was convinced it would be less than an hour. She was afraid she wouldn’t recognise him and an innocent would get hurt, but Roger just waved that off.

  “He’ll come to you, Jo. He won’t be able to resist,” Roger had told her.

  She wasn’t sure what that meant exactly but she had to trust that Roger knew what he was talking about. She had come this far and it was too late to back out now.

  Jo jumped when the bartender suddenly appeared in front of her. The people who worked around here kept managing to surprise her as if they appeared from nowhere. Which played into everything she knew about the undead. She wondered if they did it on purpose.

  He smiled, showing perfectly white, straight, even teeth, and she relaxed. “So sorry, chére, didn’t mean to give you a start. Name’s Logan and what can

I get you?”

  It took her a minute to put together everything he said through his thick southern accent, but once she did, it made her smile.

  “Hello. May I have a glass of Chardonnay please?”

  Smiling down at her, he winked. “Coming right up.”

  Jo watched as he poured her drink. He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, with blond hair and blue eyes. His southern accent had been thick and sweet, and she liked him almost immediately but decided to be cautious. Roger had told her that the undead could put glamour on themselves and her, making her do their bidding. Somehow she knew deep down that Logan wasn’t one of the monsters. It was a feeling she had to trust. Most of her life, she had been able to read others well. Her sister had even joked that it was a gift. Jo shook her head to dissolve any thoughts of her sister. She couldn’t dwell on that. She had a job to do.

  He set her drink down and leant against the bar. “Anything else?”

  She took a drink and glanced around. “No…no, thank you. I’m meeting someone here.”

  “Hope you don’t have to wait too long,” Logan told her as he wiped the bar and gave her another stunning smile.

  She laughed—she just couldn’t help it. The soft sound of her laughter floated through the room and eyes turned towards her. Jo quickly averted her eyes from those around her. She didn’t want to draw too much attention to herself. Just enough to get this over with. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” she said.

  Shaking his head, he started down the bar. “Let’s hope so, darling.”

  Not sure what that meant, she opened her mouth to ask and was interrupted by someone sitting close on the next stool. She glanced to her right and sized up the man. He was older than she was, with brown hair that was slicked back. He could be the one she was waiting on. The only problem was she didn’t know how to tell. Roger had told her she would just know, but once again, she worried that she would make a deadly mistake.

  “It is a shame to see a woman drinking alone,” he said, smiling and leaning close.

  She smiled, just in case this was the man. “Hmm, you don’t say?”

  He nodded “Yes, a shame. You are a very beautiful woman and I would like to share a drink with you. Come and sit with me in my booth.”

  Jo was trying to place his accent, and it took her a moment to answer. Although the way he was holding her arm, his words felt more like a command then a request. Jo shook him off. “Thank you, sir, for asking, but I am quite comfortable here.”

  His back straightened and his eyes widened in surprise. Logan also stopped and stared at her with a look of disbelief on his face. Not understanding, she smiled at the man. “You may, however, sit and keep me company if you wish.”

  The man shook his head and took her hand in his. “I think you would be much more comfortable in my booth,” he told her, looking deeply into her eyes.

  Jo felt the first stirring of uneasiness wash over her. This man was acting strange. The way Roger said he might. She’d done nothing but sit, and he had come right over to her. She couldn’t risk going to the booth with him, but she needed to get him to leave with her.

  Smiling, she turned towards him and crossed her legs, lifting her skirt even higher. His eyes followed the movement, and Jo knew he approved by the hunger flashing in his eyes. “I appreciate the offer very much but would prefer to wait here. I wouldn’t mind at all if you would keep me company.” She lowered her voice and went for sexy.

  He blinked again then a hand settled on his shoulder. Jo looked up, and all the breath left her body. She looked up into the most beautiful face she’d ever seen.

  He was absolutely gorgeous. Black hair curled under his ears and made her want to reach up and see if it was as silky as it looked, and piercing dark eyes fixed intently on hers.

  “Thank you, George, for keeping my friend company.” He hadn’t spoken to her, but his voice caressed her body and her heart sped up.

  The man who had sat beside her jumped up as if he had been bitten. “Yes. Well, no problem, Nic. See you around, miss.” And with that, he walked away quickly.

  Jo still hadn’t taken her eyes off the stranger nor had he from her.

  He didn’t sit but instead stood in front of her, blocking the entire club from view. He was tall—well over six feet—dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt. When he reached over and picked up her hand, a shiver ran down her entire spine. One very similar to what she’d felt when she was outside. It was as if, by just holding her hand, he knew all her secrets.

  That’s when it suddenly hit her. This must be him. The man Roger wanted. He overwhelmed the room with his power. He made her feel like it were only the two of them alone. His eyes were sharp and full of knowledge.

  Jo sucked in a breath and tried to pull her hand away.

  He continued to hold it as if not noticing her yanking. “I am Nicolas Lucian, the owner of this club. You may call me Nic.” He bent his head and brought her hand up and kissed it ever so gently. It was an old-fashioned gesture and matched perfectly with the sound of his old world accent.

  Jo felt the kiss all the way to her toes. She had no doubt this was a powerful man and she was afraid. Her body trembled, and with her left hand still in his grip, she ran her right hand down her leg. She had weapons in her boots. She could use one and run. They might not kill him like Roger wanted, but it might give her enough time to get away.

  Before her hand even made it to her knee, he stepped into her and laid his free hand over hers. “Now, let’s not do anything hasty,” he told her, still speaking low. His hand was warm and her skin felt like it was on fire where he touched.

  “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private?” he asked, pulling her up from the stool. She nodded even as her mind screamed no.

  He led her gently but firmly towards the back of the club, sidestepping around tables and booths she hadn’t seen earlier. The club was a lot larger than she had originally thought.

  Every muscle in her body strained and tears of fear filled her eyes. She didn’t want to die. Roger had assured her that she was the only one who could accomplish this job. She was different from the rest, he always told her, although she didn’t know why.

  When Nic wrapped his free arm around her waist and led her up stairs that seemed to come from nowhere, she trembled and fought to get her feet to stop.

  Deep down, she knew it was too late to turn back. She was completely powerless to stop him from doing whatever he wanted. Her body was already betraying her with its response.

  He laughed softly, walking beside her, and she had a hideous thought that he could read her mind. No, that was impossible. Roger had told her no one could read her, but walking next to this man, she had serious doubts that Roger knew all he said. She was going to die tonight. She just hoped it would be forever.

  The stairs led to a small hallway. A lone door stood at the end. It was closed but opened at the wave of the man’s hand. She started shaking. She so did not want to go through that doorway, knowing she would never come out.

  With him beside her, she stepped into the large room and looked around frantically. It was an office. There was an old oak desk across the room from her and a sitting area to her left with a wet bar, couch, and flat screen TV.

  He closed the door almost silently, and in a blink of an eye, she was slammed up against it with his hand on her neck. He wasn’t choking her, just holding her firmly in place.

  “Who sent you?” His eyes flashed as he asked the question.

  Jo didn’t move, didn’t answer. She wasn’t sure she could when his hand tightened around her throat. He leant down until his face was close to hers. His eyes flashed, the rims turning red when he asked her again. “Who sent you?”

  Her mind and body finally connected when his eyes glowed crimson, and she finally started struggling. It was useless, of course. He just tightened the hand around her neck.

  He smiled and it wasn’t a pleasant smile. “I really hate to repeat myself, dear.”

  She shook her head over and over, her neck straining in his hold. She wouldn’t tell him. She wouldn’t give him Roger or their plan. She would protect them even if it killed her.

  Leaning down, he ran his cheek over hers and laughed softly in her ear. “There are much worse things than death.”

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  About the Author

  Crissy Smith lives in Texas with her husband, daughter, and three Labrador retrievers. The three dogs love to curl up under her computer desk and nap while she writes. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for her but what’s a woman to do?

  When not writing or reading, she enjoys hunting, camping and shooting. But she has a girly side too and is addicted to pedicures and coffee.

  She has been writing since she was a teenager and still loves everything to do with the paranormal. Her stories and characters all have a place in her heart. She loves the Alpha male, the dominant werewolf, and the Master vampire, which find their way in most of her books.

  Learn more about the characters she has created at her website where they have their very own page. It will be updated from time to time to let you know what's going on with them. Also you can find out who will be in the next book.

  Email: cmsmith0328@yahoo.com

  Crissy loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.

  Also by Crissy Smith

  Seduced by the Neighbor

  Lacey’s Seduction

  Eternal

  Bid High

  Fated Love

  Vamps in the City

  Were Chronicles: Pack Alpha

  Were Chronicles Pack Enforcer

  Were Chronicles: Pack Territory

  Were Chronicles: Pack Rogue

  Were Chronicles: Pack Community

  Were Chronicles: Pack Mates

  Were Chronicles: Pack Daughter

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