Rearing Heat

by Skylar Sinclair

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  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.sirenpub.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Skylar Sinclair

  First published in 2007, 2007

  * * *

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Rearing Heat

  Dex Legend knows what he saw and smelled that morning standing atop the ridge within the backdrop of the glistening sun, a beautiful golden mare, bold as you please. To add fuel to this heady mix, she is in heat and could be his mate! In a blink of an eye, she is gone, but a persistent hard-on has plagued him ever since.

  Shayla Smith has finally found a place to call home at least for a while. Shayla has no idea there are more of her kind left—equestrian shifters—and especially not a drop-dead gorgeous stud that will not take no for an answer.

  A paranormal erotic romance where nothing is taboo and the carnality is untamed!

  Sensuality Rating: SCORCHING

  Genre: Contemporary Paranormal / Shape-shifters

  Length: Novel (17,000 words)

  REARING HEAT

  Skylar Sinclair

  EROTIC ROMANCE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THIS E-BOOK: Your purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book.

  REARING HEAT

  Copyright © 2007 by Skylar Sinclair

  ISBN: 1-933563-91-8

  First E-book Publication: July 2007

  Cover design by Skylar Sinclair

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2007 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  REARING HEAT

  SKYLAR SINCLAIR

  Copyright © 2007

  Chapter 1

  A shrill whistle pierced the morning air. Moments later, a massive black Quarter horse stud came charging into view from the pasture beyond and toward the white fence line where Reece Legend stood. The stud's black coat gleamed as if polished ebony, as the sun shone down upon it. Four white stockings and a blaze running down the black's forehead accented him like chrome on a car—flashy and eye-catching against the backdrop of the green pastures and the azure blue of the sky.

  The ground rumbled as the stud's powerful front end and hindquarters struck the ground repeatedly as he ran full out. His long, flowing black mane and tail billowed in the wind, silky and shiny. Nostrils flared showing a slight pink tinge of inner flesh with each exhale of breath. The stud let out a high-pitched whinny upon drawing closer and then darted into a lone stall that was near the fence line not far from where Reece stood.

  The stud disappeared into the stall, and only a few minutes after, a big, well-built, raven-haired man dressed in a light-blue work shirt, formfitting jeans and cowboy boots came strolling out, eating the ground up with his long-legged stride.

  "Hey, big brother, where've you been? I swear my lips are raw from whistling for ya,” Reece joked, rubbing at his puckered lips.

  Dex didn't answer his brother right away. Instead, he nonchalantly stopped and used the toe of each boot to push down his pant legs at the back of his calves in a very cowboy move. Taking his time, he finally answered, “I needed to stretch my legs, so I went for a run."

  Reece tilted his head slightly to one side as his left eyebrow arched in a snotty-ass manner. “Yeah, right. You were out looking for that phantom palomino mare again, weren't ya? The one only you have ever seen."

  "I did see that golden mare,” Dex snapped at his younger brother, “and I was out for a run.” He wasn't about to admit he'd been out once again looking for the elusive mare. It had been over a month since he'd spotted her on top of the ridge at the back of their property, standing majestically with the sun above shining down upon her dappled coat. The golden sheen of her coat looked like burnished gold. Her refined head and arched neck gave an elegant appearance as she pawed nervously at the ground, tossing her head. A beautiful, full, white tail hung to the ground, and long flowing mane tousled by the morning breeze rippled along her neck.

  Even from a distant, and with the wind blowing in his favor right into his flaring nostrils, he smelled another of his kind, recognizing her by scent alone. In his stallion form, he tossed his head and reared, pawing at the air. His snots and bellows of possessive intent alerted the mare to his presence. She wheeled around and disappeared over the side of the ridge before his front end even hit the ground. She was gone like a puff of smoke and he'd yet to catch a glimpse of her again. Dex walked around that day with the stiffest woody of his life. Holy hell, the frustration was getting to him. He knew what he saw and smelled that day, and nothing was going to deter him from finding his golden mare.

  Dex knew another equestrian shifter when he smelled one, especially one in prime heat no less. Along with all that, she might be his mate, though he hadn't shared that secret with his brothers yet. He'd never seen a female shifter before—except his mother, of course—and her sudden appearance was heady like a straight shot of whiskey on an empty stomach. She had taken his breath away that morning and he couldn't get her out of his head. He had to find her. His stomach muscles tightened and his balls throbbed just from thinking about her. If he didn't find her soon, he might start thinking he had imagined her all this time.

  "Whoa there, big boy.” Reece put his hands up in front of him in a surrendering fashion. “If you say so. I know how you old folks get when someone questions your sanity or eyesight or—"

  "Why, you little shit.” Dex lunged at him, but Reece was too fast, stepping quickly to the right and then turning tail and running like fire was blowing up his backside.

  He'd miss his two brothers. Reece and Coy were only going to be gone for the week hitting a couple of good Quarter horse auctions held up north. They needed to strengthen their stock with brood mares with just the right bloodlines to throw some quality-cutting horses.

  Dex knew he would always feel responsible for his brothers. When his parents went to Scotland, they left the twins in Dex's care. Equestrian shifters didn't like to move around much and the family usually stayed close to each other, preferring the safety net of a herd. Pulling up stakes and leaving behind the comfortable and familiar weren't natural for them, but for some reason, his parents felt the need to move on, and he respected their decision, no matter what or why. His brothers would be his responsibility and he never shirked duty. Being over twenty-one and ready to kick up their heels, he had to let them have that, giving them room to grow up on their own terms and be their own persons.

  Only twelve years older than his brothers, Dex had felt compelled to look after them. Not only because he was older, he also loved them beyond words and would always feel protective toward them.

  Dex chuckled. “
I'll get you when you least expect it, little brother.” With a shake of his head, he made his way up to the house. Yep, it was time to work off some sexual tension. He'd go out to the Rail tonight and find a fine woman to lose himself in for the night. Nothing beat a good roll in the sheets to get a man back on track.

  Chapter 2

  She looked around the dimly lit bar as she stepped through the front door, letting it swing shut with a resounding swoosh as it closed behind her. Shayla Smith had been restless since the day over a month ago when she'd spotted that powerful black stallion on that brisk morning while out on a run. There she was minding her own business, feeling totally free for the first time in a long time, and that stud showed up. All she needed was to be mounted. Yeah, she could use a good lay, but not by that black monster. Now, if it had been one of her kind, another shifter, she might have considered it. Nevertheless, she didn't think any existed. At least she'd never run across another of her kind, male or female, not that she would know one if they crossed her path. The thought was depressing. Did they smell different, act different? Would she ever meet one to answer all those questions?

  Suddenly, thinking about being taken by that particular black beast had heat rushing through her body as the erotic images of what it would feel like being overpowered by him, making her hands tremble and sweat. Where in the hell did those new feelings come from? It felt like she could jump out of her skin at any minute. What was going on? Moreover, why now? Shayla shook off the feeling to take in her surroundings.

  Why she was standing in the Rail, a hangout for the locals of Prather, she wasn't sure, but she knew she couldn't spend another minute in the room she rented or she'd start pulling her hair out of her head one strand at a time. Thank God, she'd saved enough money from her last job to be able to take some time to figure out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, whatever the hell that was. Hopefully, being around people might help settle her nerves. A couple of good stiff drinks wouldn't hurt either.

  Rail was a typical bar filled with men and women looking for love in all the wrong places. The big room had an assortment of small, round, wooden tables and chairs packed into an area bordering a small dance floor and stage with a band set up playing country music. Two pool tables graced another area of the bar, and next to those, a couple of dartboards on the wall. The walls and floor, a nondescript color, more than likely had not seen a fresh coat of paint or a good cleaning in quite a while. Only the front window, the only portal to the world that went on outside, with typically blinking neon lights, proclaimed the type of alcohol they sold within. The heavily scented air with the odors of body sweat, overpowering perfume and sexual arousal filled her nose.

  Crap, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

  A lone cocktail waitress worked the floor, and she appeared to have her hands full taking orders from all the people packed into the joint. The crowd ranged in age from early twenties to eighty, she figured. Shayla decided to order a drink from the bar. It would be quicker.

  Shayla dressed casually in jeans, a lightweight tank top and boots, and she knew she fit right in with the rest of the crowd. Squeezing in between two old timers, she leaned her elbows on the polished surface and used her most beguiling smile to try attracting the bartender's attention. She could see her reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the back bar, through the lines of liqueur shelved in front with drinking glasses stacked in neat rows beneath. Her reflection showed a woman in her mid thirties. To Shayla, she was ordinary, nothing special to look at, though she did seem to attract men that always turned out to be losers.

  Her last boyfriend, well, if she could call Charlie that, stole all her money and even her car. The police found the car but no Charlie, which was fine with her. No good, lowlife, dirt-sucking creep! Since him, she'd shied away from men and all they stood for—trouble, plain and simple. She did miss sex. Being comforted in a pair of strong arms. The warmth of a man's hard body pressing down onto hers. A pair of male lips roaming the outline of her body, creating desire and havoc at the same time. The proof of a man's arousal pressed up against the seam of her sex. Strong, firm hands exploring and caressing her exposed skin as her body undulated underneath them. It was as if her body had come to life, needy and hungry for the touch of a man.

  "Someone, please ... pass me a full bottle of two kinds of stupid. Coming here definitely wasn't my most brilliant idea,” she muttered under her breath. She couldn't stop thinking about sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.

  A groan slipped from Shayla's lips and she leaned over and rested her head onto the bar.

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  All cleaned up, dressed in skintight jeans with knife-creased fronts, a silver belt buckle, button-up shirt and cowboy boots, Dex flexed his thigh muscles and rolled his shoulders back, heading for the front door of the Rail, and hopefully the company of a good, warm woman. His mouth watered at the image of a naked woman thrashing around under him, whimpering her pleasure with her head thrown back, exposing her pale throat. He growled under his breath.

  As he walked toward the bar, he kept being reminded of the fact that he hopefully had a mate out there somewhere he'd been looking for. Maybe it all had been his imagination. It had been over a month, and he'd found neither hide nor hair of her. Hell, the hard-ons and his savage drive for sex remained consistent and real. Taking care of that particular problem was the utmost in his mind.

  The last woman to grace his bed had been traveling through town on her way back to L.A. Dex had picked her up right here at the Rail two months ago. Come to think of it, the woman before that he'd picked up here, too. It wasn't like he'd any problem attracting women. The problem of late had been time. That he had little of and he certainly didn't have time for the niceties of a social life and dating. He needed a good, hard screwing, and he was determined to find that tonight.

  As soon as Dex walked through the door of the bar, a couple of guys he knew called out to him. He started to make his way over to their table. As he worked his way through the occupied tables and chairs, and about halfway there, an overpowering sweet and potent smell of mare assaulted his nose, nailing him right in the balls. His cock stiffened, filling out the front of his pants, pushing at the zipper. There was little room left in his ass-hugging jeans to begin with. He was so sensitive, he could feel each notch and groove of the metal closure of his zipper. Pure torture.

  Quickly, Dex made nice with the guys who first greeted him and then started back through the crowded bar, following the scent that saturated his senses. It felt as if every cell in his body had been imprinted to recognize his mate's smell. His body seemed completely in tune with her, aching with need and a fierce desire to dominate—claim. Oh, yes. Now he knew exactly what a mate smelled like and she would his. He had no doubt about that. What Dex wanted, Dex went after and got!

  Equestrian shifters were extremely possessive of their mates—an undeniable urge, animalistic and primal, when it came to the one truly meant for them. Dex's father had told him how it felt, and by God, he'd been right. He hadn't even touched his woman and he already wanted her with an uncivilized passion beyond anything he'd ever felt. Never before in his life would he have considered himself a possessive or jealous man, but those emotions had started to overtake and permeate his soul. It was all he could do not to stalk up to her and ravish her right then and there.

  Getting closer to the bar, her scent became stronger and clearer. Then he spotted a fine ass beckoning to him. With her head on the bar, it pushed her hips out and jean-clad ass up into the air, only she didn't seem to realize that. The men in the bar took immediate notice. One young man had gotten up, making his way over to her. Her provocative backside stuck up in the air, and her flaxen mane of hair tumbled down almost to her butt in thick tendrils like a curtain of sunshine, made Dex growl under his breath. Damn, she was a petite thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the kid as he made a beeline straight for her. Dex knew that look of lust the kid wore like a proud peacock, but that kid
was about to get his feathers clipped if he laid one finger on Dex's woman.

  Dex stepped right in front of the younger man, looking down at him to get his attention. He put his hands on his hips, shaking his head negatively as he looked at the woman splayed against the bar right in front of them before glancing back down at the young man. He must have worn a ‘don't fuck with me look’ because the kid swallowed a few times, looked at the blonde woman again, and then turned tail and walked the other way. It didn't hurt that Dex was well over six feet and built with hardworking muscles from head to toe and the kid had to look up at his hard gaze. Normally an easygoing guy, Dex was more of a lover than a fighter, but not now and not with her. Concerning that woman, she was no-man's land except his.

  Without giving the young man another thought, he moved assuredly up behind the woman, drinking in her fine body and luscious mane of hair. His heartbeat thumped a mile a minute with each step that drew him closer to his mate, his mare. Her smell had become a beguiling fragrance stifling his every thought, locking his body up into a hard mass of screaming desire. Need overpowered thought, and his soaring libido overrode his intellect.

  He couldn't help himself as he let his body drift into hers, using his arms to cage her in against the bar.

  Chapter 3

  The feel of a very hard, warm body crowding her from behind was the first inclination she might have company before Shayla raised her head up off the bar. The arms, with big capable hands and large wrists, closed down upon the bar on either side of her body, acting like bands of steel, penning her in. But it was the heavy smell of ripe passion that caused her nipples to harden against the fabric of her top and wet heat to surge between her legs, the sensations frightening her. Her body acted on its own. She couldn't control her reaction to the man standing so very close behind her.