by Jodi Redford
He held her belt now, the one she normally kept wrapped low around her hips. Everything she needed was on that belt, and she ached for it. Her serrated knife, her palm unit and her taser.
Her gaze stuck on the weapon. He’d grabbed her taser for her?
“The boots,” he said gruffly as he crouched.
Luna cringed. For some reason, his examination of her belongings was as personal as if he’d been going over her naked body inch by inch—which she wasn’t quite sure wasn’t next. She wanted to pull everything back, to hide from his attention.
“The boots are something else, though, aren’t they?” His gray gaze suddenly locked with hers. “They get you off.”
Under the covers, her toes curled. How did he know that? How could he have figured that out? Low-heeled boots or runner’s shoes would have been more feasible, more practical. They had just looked so stupid with her skimpy costume, but the high-heeled black boots? They’d made her cream.
She swallowed again, and this time found her mouth wet with saliva. “The stilettos make good weapons.”
“Meaning they bring down any man with a healthy dick.”
He knew he was right. There was a hint of a dark smile on his lips as he looked at her, and Luna was frustrated she couldn’t see more of his face. He might have gotten rid of the Grim Reaper cape, but his head and torso were covered with a form-fitted, one-piece spandex shirt and ski-mask type of garment. It covered the back of his head and came down over his nose and eyes. Only the lower half of his face was revealed, showing a strong jaw and hard lips. Those lips mocked her now.
“Whatever works,” she snapped. The words were out before she could stop them, and they surprised her. She shouldn’t encourage him. She shouldn’t play along—not in this.
“Oh, they do, sweetheart.” He glanced at the front of his dark jeans and shifted in discomfort. “They definitely do.”
He took another harsh breath that seemed to fuel his anger. With a curse, he began to stride around the room again. “What goes on in that head of yours? What makes you think you can go strutting around half-naked—hell, three-quarters naked—in the most dangerous parts of the city and be safe?”
Outrage hit her. She didn’t strut. When she was out at night, she was fully intent on her work. “You know that I have a cape too. It covers me from head to foot.”
“Until you whip it off and give everyone a good look.”
Her teeth ground together. That was to shine the attention on the bad guys—not herself. She did everything she could to keep herself in the background. She knew how to merge with the darkness. She’d always been smart and safe.
Until now.
He turned on her, looming over the end of the bed where her legs were spread wide under the thin sheet. “Do you know what some of those scumbags would do to you if they caught you?”
Her stomach clenched, and her outrage dimmed. The real question was, what was he going to do with her?
She watched him unblinkingly, afraid to move, afraid to say anything that would make him more upset than he already was. His lips might mock her, but his fingers were clenched and his breaths heaved. The stretchy material of his costume clung to a chest that was heavily muscled. In the dark shadows, each hard curve and dip was delineated. His uniform kept him as covered as she was left bared, and the disparity struck her. Dark versus light. Good versus evil.
Her need to see his face grew to a craving. She wanted to know the color of his hair. Was it thick and silky? Dark and wavy? She wanted to touch that chest, with nothing between her fingertips and his skin.
And she knew it was wrong. All of it. He hadn’t rescued her. He’d pulled her further into the depths of danger. All that darkness might be seductive, but temptations were rarely good for you. She knew this man was bad for her, right down to his core.
“I’ll have you put away for this,” she said quietly. “I’ll have you put away for life.”
His expression went even darker. “You and what army?”
“The justice system will be enough.”
A bark of laughter escaped him, the sound rusty and harsh. He moved again and suddenly he was over her, his hands braced on either side of her pillow. “If you believe that, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”
His body hovered inches above hers, close but still too far away. Her body tingled, wanting what it shouldn’t. Then his hand was fisting in the sheet, his knuckles pressing hard between her breasts. When he ripped the covering off her, it was like being splashed with chilled air. He tossed the sheet aside, baring her all the way to her cuffed ankles and pink-painted toenails. Luna arched, wanting to run, wanting to hide, but there was no escape.
His big hand covered one breast, and that cool heat poured through her. “Are you out there fighting for truth and justice, Luminescence, or does the danger just turn you on?”
“You won’t win,” she gasped.
“The hell I won’t.”
He squeezed her nipple hard, but then his touch was gone. It reappeared, lower and hotter. He cupped her pussy and ground the ball of his hand against her. Luna’s thighs quivered. With her legs spread wide, he could touch her however he liked, whenever he liked. Her hips pressed into the mattress as he slid his thumb between her soft, delicate folds. When he lifted it, it was wet.
“What is it that gets you going?” he asked, his voice going steely. “Danger, or me?”
She couldn’t respond. What he was doing was shocking, titillating, and she shouldn’t like it. Couldn’t like it. It went against everything she believed in, everything she’d put herself on the line for, but she couldn’t dispute the evidence.
He bent down over her, his gray eyes turning pewter.
“Danger?” He swirled his thumb deliberately around her clit. “Or me?”
Who says a wolf can’t make a pussycat purr?
Cat Scratch Fever
© 2012 Jodi Redford
Perfect timing has never been Lilly Prescott’s long suit. Seconds before a showdown with werewolf Dante Morgan, who owns a property that by rights should belong to her, she goes into heat. Not a simple event for a lynx shifter. No, she’s doomed to weeks of frustration that can only be soothed by frequent rolls in the hay—or her hand. Unfortunately, Dante accidentally witnesses the latter.
Left shaken and highly aroused in the snow, Dante can’t believe he’s attracted to the woman who drives him crazy, and not in a good way. Worse, his father has issued an ultimatum. Marry, or abdicate his place as pack leader. On the other hand, it’s the perfect leverage. Lilly will get her land…in exchange for a wedding ring and all the sexual satisfaction she can handle.
Marry Dante? No doubt he’s a poster boy for Hunks ’R’ Us, but he’s rude, arrogant and Lilly’s sworn enemy. Not to mention the thought of losing her independence is frightening as hell.
When they find themselves falling victim to their own charade, though, it’s anything but hell. It’s heaven, and the last thing either of them wants. The real thing.
Warning: This book contains redneck werewolves, inconvenient hormones, and a whole new use for cat toys. Uncontrollable meowing may occur.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Cat Scratch Fever:
What the hell am I doing? This whole plan is nuts. She ran both hands down her face and smothered a groan. Dante chose that moment to walk back into the living room.
Awarding her a cautious glance, he plopped a plate loaded with a fresh bagel sandwich and chips on her lap. “Everything okay?”
She swallowed past the lump of worry lodged in her throat. “No one is going to buy this—you and I.”
“That’s why we have to make it convincing.”
“Trust me, I’m not that good of an actress.”
Dante rubbed his jaw. “Well, my old man already thinks we’ve got something going on.”
“Great. One down, a couple hundred more people to go. And that’s just counting your relatives.” She snatched a chip and nibbled its crinkl
ed edge listlessly. The healthy appetite she’d possessed minutes ago seemed to have disintegrated. She dropped the half-eaten chip back onto the plate and exhaled heavily. “Speaking of relatives…I know my sister will never believe we’ve suddenly fallen madly in love. Crap, just yesterday I told her you were a perverted peeping Tom.”
A grunt issued from Dante, and she shrugged. “Hey, I was mad.”
He stroked his goatee. “Actually, that might work in our favor. I’m assuming you told her about what happened on the road?”
She nodded.
“So tell her I made you dinner as an apology, and one thing led to another.” His mouth tipped into another of those panty-wetting grins. “After one incredible night in the sack together, you knew you could never live without me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease. No one’s going to believe that.”
His palm curved over her knee. “I bet I can make you believe it.”
She tried not to focus on the distracting way his fingers brushed along the inner seam of her pants. “Don’t count on it.”
“Should I take that as a challenge?” His gaze still locked with hers, he took her plate and set it next to her coat.
Planting his hands on the chair’s upholstered arms, he boxed her in and leaned so close, she easily made out the flecks of gold in his irises. Compelling as his gaze was, her attention couldn’t help straying to his mouth. Her nipples tightened as she imagined those sexy, masculine lips traveling in a slow glide across her breasts and belly. What would his goatee feel like against her skin? Would it be scratchy and irritating, or soft and ticklish?
Unconscious of her actions, she reached up and traced her fingertips over his jaw. “Hmm, definitely soft and ticklish.”
A wicked sparkle danced in Dante’s eyes. “Were you having dirty thoughts about my beard?”
“Possibly.”
“Tell me what you were thinking.”
The husky persuasion in his voice proved to be her ultimate downfall. “I was wondering what it’d feel like on certain parts of my body.”
Dante licked his lips in a way that was incredibly…wolfish. “I can show you firsthand.”
The heat simmering inside her kicked into full boil. Dante’s nostrils flared, and the intensity in his eyes sharpened. “Christ. I smell how fucking turned on you are.”
“I can’t help it.” She swallowed hard and squirmed against the cushion. “It’s the hormones.”
“No, it’s more than that. And you know it.” His face inched closer until his breath mingled with hers. “You want me, Lilly. Admit it.”
“I don’t know what’s bigger—your ego, or your self-delusions.”
He gave her a predatory grin that prompted flutters in her stomach. “Neither is any match for the size of my cock. But then you already know that.”
He would have to bring up his impressive package at a time like this. Now she couldn’t get the damn thing out of her mind. Which wasn’t helping her present condition at all. “Another check mark for your massive eg—” The remainder of her comeback fell victim to the firm, sinful pressure of his mouth
on hers. A shaky whimper escaped her. Dante took that as a convenient invitation to thrust his tongue past her lips.
She’d experienced plenty of kisses in her life. Not one of them came close to competing with the consuming hunger inherent in Dante’s. She could taste his desire. Feel his single-minded focus on her. It swept her up and left her breathless. His fingers tunneled insistently in her hair, angling her head back for a deeper exploration of her mouth. His tongue coaxed hers into play, and she eagerly obliged. God, she wanted to eat him up with a spoon. And that made absolutely no sense, considering how arrogant, obnoxious…chauvinistic…and…and…
She lost her train of thought as his roving hands massaged her breasts through her top. Inspired to do her own exploring, she smoothed her palms over Dante’s broad shoulders, trying to drag him closer and tug his flannel shirt off at the same time.
He pulled back, revealing an expression dark with passion. “There’s not enough room on this chair for us both. How about if we continue this on the couch?”
“My bed is bigger.” The suggestion popped free before she could halt it. Grinding her teeth at her loud-mouthed inner slut, she waited for Dante to smirk and lob an appropriately lewd crack at her. Instead, he scooped her into his arms, knocking the bag of Brussels sprouts onto the ground. He was careful with her ankle, something she appreciated—though honestly, she didn’t even register any discomfort anymore. Likely the improvised icepack had done the trick. That, or lust had blindsided her to the point all other sensations had skulked into the farthest recesses of her consciousness.
He walked down the short hallway and paused between the two open bedroom doors. “Which one?”
She pointed to the doorway to the left of them, and he strode inside the small room. He carefully arranged her on top of the patchwork quilt before stretching out beside her. His mouth found the tender spot beneath her ear and quickly discovered how easy it was to reduce her into a quivery, gasping wreck. She tore at his shirt again, desperate to touch warm flesh rather than flannel. This time he obeyed her wishes and released the top few buttons before growing impatient and yanking the garment over his head and tossing it aside. She snuggled against him, a happy purr leaking free.
He groaned and coasted his fingers along the curve of her spine. “Fuck, that’s sexy. Do you always purr like that?”
“Usually only when I’m in the middle of a heat cycle.”
His hand slid beneath her top and cupped her breast through the thin mesh of her bra. He rubbed her nipple with his thumb, and she arched into him. A feral growl rumbled from deep in his chest. “I wanna get you nekkid.”
“Oh God, yes.” So much for keeping her inner slut out of this.
Thankfully he required no further prompting and made short work divesting her of her top and bra. The rapt way he stared at her breasts brought a fresh surge of moisture between her legs. She whimpered as his hand splayed over her mound.
“I don’t even need to touch you to know how fucking wet you are.”
She didn’t doubt it. The clear evidence of her arousal scenting the air made it pretty damn impossible to miss. With Dante’s supersensitive nose, it was probably a thousand times more noticeable. She got her verification when he buried his face in the valley of her cleavage and inhaled with a lusty moan. His pupils dilated, making his eyes look exceptionally dark and predatory.
Witnessing the raw, animalistic hunger riding his features speared a sharp spike of excitement through her, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded. Plumping her breasts with his hands, he sucked her nipple between his teeth and laved it into a stiff, turgid peak with his tongue. Gasping, she wiggled on the mattress, shamelessly undulating against the hand he’d kept wedged between her legs. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as the consuming need inside her became an agonizing torment. She tugged at his hair, panting, and he finally lifted his gaze to hers.
He must have read the desperation in her eyes because he reached for her zipper and worked it down. Repositioning himself, he gently eased her pants and bikini down her legs before spreading her thighs enough to make room for his wide shoulders. His thumbs slid through the wetness coating her labia and held her open to his hot, devouring gaze. A millisecond later, his tongue swirled over her clit. She jolted at the intense sensation, her limbs trembling, but Dante’s big hands kept her hips pinned to the mattress and her pussy available for his feasting. And oh God, that was exactly what she felt like—the main entree in a luscious, decadent werewolf Happy Meal.
Breaking Bad
Jodi Redford
No super deed goes unpunished…
A Midnight Justice Story
It’s been twenty-five years since the last Light Guardian was wiped out. Or so it’s believed. Ruby Winston is about to blow the lid off that theory, even though it’ll bring every Shadow Czar minion down on her ass.
Problem is, becoming a superhero overnight isn’t as easy as it looks.
Teague Younger has his own secrets to keep: his heritage, and his fierce determination to exact revenge on his friend and mentor’s murderer. So far he’s kept his cover—until he’s forced to use his Light Guardian powers to save Ruby from a sticky situation.
Thrust together and on the run, Teague and Ruby form a wary alliance as they desperately fight their circuit-blowing attraction. With an army of Shadow Queen minions hot on their tails, they might have a hard time surviving the night, much less ignoring their hearts.
Warning: This book contains mind-controlling beverages, evil dictators and minions, excessive use of spandex, and enough electrifying sex to melt an ice train.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Breaking Bad
Copyright © 2012 by Jodi Redford
ISBN: 978-1-61921-027-1
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Kanaxa
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