“It’s all right,” Davin brushed her hair back with one hand as he stepped away from her. “We need to know if he is your resonance mate or not. Otherwise, the uncertainty will drive me mad.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Her voice was shatteringly gentle.
Davin leaned down to kiss her, just once. “Hurting you, hurts me. Your joy could never bring me pain.”
“You’re a generous man, Davin, and much too good for me.” Callie kissed him once, with palpable tenderness and love, then turned to face Rick. She walked right up to him and Rick felt frozen in place like a deer in a spotlight. Callie crowded him until they stood toe to toe, then she angled her sweet face upward in invitation.
“Just one kiss, Rick. I know you want to.” Her voice was that of the siren, tempting men to their deaths. Rick was powerless against this, the final test. He’d been strong for weeks, but he could be strong no longer.
He jumped in headfirst, his arms snaking around her waist as his head dipped to claim her lips with his. He’d been wanting to taste her delicate flavor for a long time. Hunger rode him as she responded to his demanding kiss. He knew he was going too fast, but he couldn’t help himself. Callie O’Hara was in his arms and his body knew no respite from the yearning he’d too long denied.
She gasped as he moved closer, pulling her unresisting body against his, conforming her curves to the hard planes of his chest, his abdomen and his aching cock. She felt so good, he never wanted to let go.
But this was wrong. A niggling voice in the back of his mind insisted that she wasn’t his to keep. He had to let her go.
With Herculean effort, he eased off, bit by bit, though his body protested every millimeter he put between them. At length he lifted his lips, allowing one final caressing sweep of his lips against hers, over her cheek and down into her soft neck.
“We can’t do this, Callie.”
“I think we just did.” Amusement filled her breathless voice, stunning him. How could she see humor in his utter failure of control? Rick stepped back, heat rising to his cheeks in an angry flush as he broke the contact between their bodies completely. Opening his eyes at last, he was blinded by the shining crystals all around the room. His heart sank and soared simultaneously as he understood what it meant. Callie was his resonance mate.
Rick looked beyond her, searching for Davin, but the Alvian was gone from the room.
“I’m sorry, Callie.” Rick stepped away, heading for the door. “I can’t do this. It isn’t fair to Davin and it isn’t fair to you. You’re not living in the Waste with no choices. You chose Davin long before I arrived. I respect that choice.”
He left before she could speak, but he still heard the faint echo of her voice in his mind as she ’pathed just one sentence to him.
“What if you’re both my choice?”
That one sentence haunted Rick’s sleep for days, but he did his best to act as if nothing were changed between them when he went back to work. He was still partnered with Callie for the bigger experiments and he treated her professionally. He was torn inside, knowing how she tasted now, how she responded, but it was all wrong. She deserved more than to be shared between two men. She deserved his respect. The respect that grew out of the love hidden deep in his heart for her.
It’s the law of the Pack—or anarchy.
Standoff
© 2008 Lauren Dane
A Cascadia Wolves story.
For most of his life, Cade Warden has put the needs of his Pack first, setting aside everything else—even the emptiness he feels from having no mate. But Warren Pellini and his thugs have a biological weapon, threatening everything Cade holds dear.
Into his intensely focused, lonely life walks the woman he’s been waiting for.
Packless for many years, Grace Pellini has edged back into the good graces of her evil brother, walking a dangerous line to gather information to aid the Nationally Allied Packs. Cade is everything she could have hoped for in a man and a mate, even if he can be pushy and overprotective.
In the midst of their rising passion and desperate search for the key to disabling the weapon, Pellini raises the stakes by calling an ancient Challenge.
Now it’s Grace’s turn to put her protective instincts aside and stand by, Cade’s life in her hands, as her mate risks everything for his people.
Warning: Hot sexin’ of an Alpha-wolf type nature, some violence due to meddling werewolf mafia involvement, bad words that may end up the subject of a letter to the editor.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Standoff:
Grace felt him push deep and his cock jerked within her body as he came. His hands gripped her hips, held her and her body moved with the last remnants of her own orgasm.
And dimly she realized he’d moved to the side when the tide of the bond yanked her under. Pulled her down to where all she knew was the crush of emotions so intense she lost herself for long moments as she sweated and trembled.
Her body ached, hurt and yet, even as it spiraled out of her grasp, it began to re-work, her system rebuilding itself back with his, his DNA morphing hers into something new.
Suddenly, it clicked into place and she gasped, sitting up.
His arms held her, he rocked her back and forth, his lips against her temple whispering softly.
“Honey? Are you all right?”
She not only heard the angst and worry in his voice, she felt it through their link. When she opened her eyes, she met his hazel ones and felt better than she ever had.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine now.” Reaching up, she pushed a lock of his hair out of his face. “You’re so gorgeous. I’ve never seen anyone as handsome as you are.”
“Thank you, honey. I feel the same way about you. Everything in the universe is totally fucked up but for the first time in my entire life I am completely at ease. Satisfied. Full and proud. I’ve waited so long for you I began to wonder if you were just a figment of my imagination.”
A sob tore from her and she buried her face in his chest, breathing him in. She felt his alarm through their link.
“Grace? What is it?”
How could she explain it? How alone she’d been in the world? She shook her head and he stroked a hand over her hair. He was so damned big and she’d been afraid for so long she didn’t know what to do with the absence of both the fear and the loneliness.
“Tell me, please. How can I help if you don’t tell me?”
“It’s just…I don’t know how to say it and not sound pathetic. I’m not.”
He drew her away from his chest with such infinite patience and gentleness, it shook her. “I don’t think you’re pathetic, Grace. But what I do know is you can trust me with your heart, with your soul.”
“I’ve been alone for a very long time. I’ve had friends, of course, human friends. But when Maxwell shunned Warren, none of the rest of the Pack were allowed to speak to us. I lost everyone. And then of course, I drew away from Warren and the rest of his group because they’re all horrible, including my parents. Now I have you and it feels so wonderful I guess it just was very apparent, how alone I really was when I didn’t feel it anymore.”
Her voice became more and more sure as she spoke, as she realized it was all right to share her feelings with him.
“Since I’ve been back with him to get this information, I’ve been scared. So damned scared that he’d find out what I was up to and hurt me. Use that virus on me. What he did to Gina, what he’s done to those homeless humans, it’s barbaric.”
“You aren’t going back. You can’t. You’ll be marked with my scent as my mate. He’d know and there’s no way in hell I’d let you be endangered like that. Ever. Know that, Grace. I’d give my life for you and Maxwell can hang if he thinks anything else.”
He kissed her, hard at first and then softer. “My Pack is your family now. My family is yours. No more being alone. You have me and five of my siblings. All of them but one have mated. My sister Layla has two kids and Nina, my other sister-in-l
aw and my anchor bond is pregnant. My parents are alive as is my grandmother. Lots of family to love you, and they will. Oh, and Tracy, my youngest sibling has a three-legged dog who isn’t all there. Don’t ask.” He laughed.
Blech, anchor bond? She’d have to face that herself soon enough, she really didn’t want to think about some other woman being his anchor.
“I’d be perfectly happy to never deal with Warren or Maxwell again. Both of them are assholes. Warren is worse, but Maxwell’s actions put many wolves in this position.”
Cade loved the tilt of her chin when she finally got her mad on. She was little but had a heck of a spark.
“I can’t know for sure what I’d have done in Maxwell’s place, but I’m on your side here. He shouldn’t have shunned you all that way. But you’re Cascadia now and you have my protection and status.”
He tried to focus on her words because the intensity of what he felt for the woman in his arms nearly felled him. How he could have ever compared his feelings for Nina to a mate bond was beyond him. While he’d protect Nina and for that matter, Lex or anyone else in his family, with his life, Grace was his life.
He wanted to wrap her in cotton and put her on top of the highest mountain to keep her safe. He wanted to take her out into the streets and shout out loud that she was his. Pride, protectiveness, desire, satisfaction, love, above all, love, pulsed through their bond link.
“I had no idea,” he said into her hair as he breathed her scent, taking it into himself.
She turned to straddle his lap so she could look into his face. “About what?”
He groaned as she kissed along his jaw.
“I thought I had an idea of what it was to be mated. I thought the anchor bond was enough like a mate bond that I understood. But this is nothing like that. Or rather, that is nothing like this. I’m glad I didn’t know or waiting for you would have been torture.”
He yelped when she bit him.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“That,” she said, those amber eyes sparking at him, “is for bringing up your anchor twice with me naked beside you. Is the baby she’s carrying yours?”
Her jealousy slid through their link. Shy yes, unassuming? Nope.
Love, larceny, and lies.
Miss Lonely Hearts
© 2007 Charlene Teglia
When is a love letter not a love letter? When it’s mail fraud. Or in this case, female fraud.
Jason Alexander is one angry Alaskan, and he’s out to get his woman; the letter-writing Lolita who’s running the Miss Lonely Hearts con game in his bailiwick. She’s taking lonely Alaskans for a roller-coaster ride and cashing in on love. When she hits the patrons of his bar The Last Resort, the retired gambler takes it personally and goes out for justice.
Cassandra Adams has just been dumped by ex-fiancé number two. She’s fed up with Romance Roulette and ready to trade her rosy daydreams for hardheaded practicality. The logical solution? She’s going to search the classifieds for the mail-order marrying man she wants.
She thinks she’s found him in Jason, alias Alex Sanders. He thinks he’s hooked Miss Lonely Hearts. And the regulars at The Last Resort think it’s high time Jason got married, so they’re not about to clarify matters when they discover his mistake.
Together Jason and Cassandra will have to cut their way through the tangle of love, larceny and lies to unmask Miss Lonely Hearts and find a happy ending that’s a sure bet.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Miss Lonely Hearts:
Jason Alexander looked up from the dull and repetitive task of polishing the shiny oak bar top when the door of The Last Resort swung open. Good, a customer. Something to do, something to relieve the tedium, someone to talk to.
Until he realized the two large men making their ponderous way to the padded barstools were Dwight and Duke Lawrence.
The twins never talked. It was an amazing phenomenon, but true, nevertheless. Jason had wondered at it from the first time he’d seen them take those same seats on his first night in residence as the new owner of The Last Resort.
They hadn’t shown the least bit of surprise that the place had changed hands, or any interest in his identity. They’d simply waited until one of the other locals piped up and told him they always had one shot of bourbon and one draft apiece.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Jason had summoned his considerable charm and slid the beverages in front of them with a smile and a friendly greeting.
Silence. The only sound came when Duke rustled a bill in paying the tab. Even the raising and lowering of the glasses occurred in an incredible silence, the heavy restaurant glass never clunking when it made contact with the oak bar, but settling gently on the cocktail napkins without a whisper. That this feat of steady, soundless movement came from two men big enough to be mistaken for a pair of Yeti was nothing short of miraculous.
The tandem performance had amazed Jason then, and it amazed him now. Sometimes he wondered if they even realized the bar had changed hands. The previous owner, Lucky Day, had been abandoned by his namesake in Reno. The outcome of that fateful poker game had left Jason Alexander, professional gambler extraordinaire, the sole proprietor of a rustic bar in Southeast Alaska.
Maybe, he thought with a flash of wicked humor, they couldn’t tell the difference because all bartenders looked alike in the dark.
Not that it was all that dark just then. It was only spring, but already the days were visibly lengthening. The bar’s traditional dim lighting was highly augmented by the sun, streaming in through the small windows at full strength. That was one of the things he truly loved about the area. In the summer, the extended daylight lent everyone a kind of exuberance that made up for the long, dark winters. Nobody slept or stayed inside if they could help it.
In fact, the restless energy of this little city on the Tongass Narrows with the dubious honor of being named Alaska’s Rain Capital had appealed to his adventure-loving soul immediately.
From the moment he’d stepped off the ferry, he’d felt like he’d come home.
Here, in a place with a history of gold rushes, on a little plot of land in the former red-light district, was a place a gambler and wanderer could settle down in as easily as he could settle behind a blackjack table.
It fit him and he’d made up his mind immediately, with a gambler’s sure instincts, that he wasn’t selling The Last Resort. Or putting it up as collateral, either. He was leaving the life of plush hotels and room service behind forever. He was twenty-eight years old and it was time he had a home.
So Jason had taken up his position behind the bar and never looked back. Two years later, he wasn’t sorry.
But he still hadn’t ever managed to get a word out of Dwight or Duke in all that time. He only knew which was which because Duke always sat on the left. Also, his well-developed powers of personal observation had detected very slight differences that distinguished one from the other. Dwight sported a faint scar on one cheek and Duke had thicker brows. Still, they were as identical as it was probably possible to get without actually being one and the same person.
But something about them was different tonight. Jason studied the two dour faces as he served the usual drinks with a flourish. “On the house this time, Duke,” he said, knowing it was the left-hand twin’s turn to buy. They traded off, another well-established ritual they never deviated from.
He thought he actually saw a glimmer of surprise in the man’s pale eyes. “You’re welcome,” he responded, as if Duke had spoken instead of nearly blinking.
With these two, body language was about as verbal as he could expect.
“Least I can do for you two, since you’re looking so down,” Jason went on. Dwight definitely twitched as he reached for the bourbon. Interesting. Now what could these two be bothered about? Jason pondered the possibilities. Probabilities were his forte.
Odds were, they’d finally gotten tired of each other’s companionship and gotten lonely in a purely masculine way. That be
ing the case, and being as alike as they were, the two had probably then settled their affections on the same woman.
“Woman trouble does that to us all,” Jason stated in commiseration. “We men have to stick together. Though in your case, I don’t recommend you take that too literally. The law doesn’t recognize three-way marriages.” Although employers and official agencies were recognizing every other kind of arrangement these days, and polyamorous groups weren’t exactly unheard of. Live and let love. But the law was conservative.
Both Dwight and Duke rattled their shot glasses when they replaced them on the heavy oak slab. Jackpot!
“You know, you two might try asking her to choose between you.” He offered the suggestion in the time-honored spirit of supportive advice from the bartender to his burdened patrons. Dwight and Duke were apparently unacquainted with the custom personally, but he suspected they stopped in night after night mostly to listen to the talk, even if they didn’t participate actively.
Now, as lacking in verbal skills as they were, how likely was it they’d ever actually say something like that to a woman? It was amazing that they’d even gotten as far as saying hello. Too amazing, Jason realized. Which meant that they hadn’t. Which meant they’d been doing their wooing in silence. Which meant…
“Of course, maybe you shouldn’t do a thing like that through the mail. It might go better in person.”
Then it happened.
Dwight’s big fist curled up and thumped the bar in a single, silent shout of frustration and despair. And he spoke.
“Too late. She dumped us both.”
The rusty admission drew a nod of agreement and pure misery from Duke who chimed in, “Jilted,” in the heaviest, creakiest, rustiest voice Jason had ever heard.
Jilted. Now, that was serious. Jason eyed the two, surprised they’d proposed on paper. Well, not really. How else would they do it, unless they met a deaf woman and communicated by holding up a ring?
Night Rhythm: Sirens book 3 Page 5