The Impatient Lord

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by Michelle M. Pillow

Riona hit his arm. “You’re lucky that’s a sweet answer.”

  She turned to witness the happy couples and their children.

  “I had to tease Sven about his loincloth,” Vlad was saying to Clara. “You should have seen it. Arianwen, uh, decorated it for him.”

  “Ri, I know you’re up for a drink,” Alek said. “If this is as strong as I think it is, it’s possible we’ll be causing some serious mischief down at the festival later. Kendall and Mirek might have to bail us out of trouble.”

  Riona laughed. “Sorry, brother, none for me.”

  “Ah.” Alek pretended to be hurt. “You have to try it. We’ve waited a long time to open this bottle.”

  “She has plans tonight,” Mirek stated, holding her closer.

  “Actually, now that we’re all here, I wanted to say something,” Riona announced. When their eyes turned to her, she had a moment of hesitation at the direct attention. Mirek touched her arm and the hesitation went away. “After what Aeron and I went through as children, I never thought I’d want to call a place home. I’m glad I was wrong. This planet has given me a family. I love you all.”

  “Aw.” Nadja began to tear up.

  The group returned her sentiment, the women more openly than their warrior husbands, who offered their blessings and reaffirmed her standing as their kin.

  “And—” Riona turned to Mirek as the talking died down once more, “—I’m very happy to announce that our family will soon be complete.” She took her husband’s hand and placed it on her stomach. Softly, she said, “Aeron and I checked the medical booth earlier to confirm my suspicions.”

  Mirek’s eyes rounded. With a hearty laugh, he lifted her up off the ground and spun her around the room. Congratulations exploded around them, so loud it woke the babies who began to cry. Mirek placed his wife on the floor. As he moved in to kiss her, he whispered, “You have given me so much, wife. How can I ever begin to repay you?”

  She pulled back and let a mischievous smile curl her lip. “You did remember to pack that loincloth, right?” He nodded. “Good. Now grab a tray of the chocolate and take me to our tent. I want to celebrate properly.”

  Mirek nearly tripped over himself to obey and soon he’d swept his wife in his arms, dumped chocolate on her lap, and was running out of the palace amidst the amazed laughter of their family.

  The End

  About the Author, Michelle M. Pillow

  Michelle M. Pillow, Author of All Things Romance™, is a multi-published, award winning author writing in many romance fiction genres including futuristic, paranormal, historical, contemporary, fantasy and dark paranormal. Ever since she can remember, Michelle has had a strange fascination with anything supernatural and sci-fi. After discovering historical romance novels, it was only natural that the supernatural and love/romance elements should someday meet in her wonderland of a brain. She's glad they did for their children have been pouring onto the computer screen ever since.

  Michelle loves to travel and try new things, whether it's a paranormal investigation of an old Vaudeville Theatre or climbing Mayan temples in Belize. She's addicted to movies and used to drive her mother crazy while quoting random scenes with her brother. Though it has yet to happen, her dream is to be in a horror movie as 1. A zombie or 2. The expendable screaming chick who gets it in the beginning credits. But for the most part she can be found writing in her office with a cup of coffee in pajama pants.

  She has been on the Amazon bestseller list multiple times, nominated for the Romantic Times Lifetime Achievement Award 2011, the winner of the 2006 RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, nominated for the 2007 RT Award, a Brava Novella Contest Finalist and a PAN member of RWA.

  Michelle has titles published with The Raven Books, Pocket Books, Random House, Virgin Books, Adam’s Media, Samhain Publishing, Running Press, and more.

  She loves to hear from readers. They can contact her through her website www.michellepillow.com

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  The Dragon’s Queen (Dragon Lords 9) by Michelle M. Pillow

  Bestselling Futuristic Shifter Romance Series

  Mede of the Draig knows three things for a fact: As the only female dragon shifter of her people, she is special. She can kick the backside of any man. And she absolutely doesn’t want to marry.

  Mede has spent a lifetime trying to prove herself as strong as any male warrior. Unfortunately, being the special, rare creature she is, she’s been claimed as the future bride to nearly three dozen Draig—each one confident that when they come for her hand in marriage fate will choose them. When the men aren’t bragging about how they’re going to marry her, they’re acting like she’s a delicate rare flower in need of their protection.

  She is far from a shrinking solarflower.

  Prince Llyr of the Draig knows four things for a fact: He is the future king of the dragon shifters. He must act honorably in all ways. He absolutely, positively is meant to marry Lady Mede. And she dead set against marriage.

  Llyr’s fate rests in the hands of a woman determined not to have any man. With a new threat emerging amongst their cat shifting neighbors, a threat whose eyes are focused firmly on Mede, time may be running out. It is up to him to convince her to be his dragon queen.

  The Dragon’s Queen Excerpt

  There were three things Medellyn knew for a fact. She was special. She could kick the ass of any boy. And she did not want to marry and have babies.

  She was special.

  Medellyn was one of the only dragon shifting females in all the universe, and definitely in all of the Draig. Only once in a thousand births was a female dragon shifter born. She was rare, or so everyone kept telling her. Her childhood was a strange contradiction. Her very proper mother tried to treat her as if she were some sacred crystal that might crack. Her warrior father tried to make her train like a boy while dressing like a girl.

  She could kick the ass of any boy.

  Medellyn hated when boys tried to act as if she were weak and to be protected. Her dragon was just as fierce as any of theirs, probably more so. To prove her point, she’d gladly pummel any who had challenged her to the ground…and some who hadn’t.

  She absolutely, positively did not want to marry and have babies.

  Being the special, rare creature she was, in the twenty not-so-sweet girlhood years of her life she’d been claimed as the future bride to nearly three dozen boys—each one confident that when they came of the age to marry she would make their crystals glow and they hers.

  Glowing crystals wasn’t just a metaphor. On the day she was born, her father journeyed to Crystal Lake like all the new fathers did. He dove beneath the waves, swam down to the deepest part and pulled her stone from the lakebed. Like all Draig children, she wore the stone around her neck, and would continue to wear it until the day it glowed telling her which of the dragon shifting men she was destined by the gods to marry. Okay, technically she might be destined to marry an offworlder like most Draig men, but no one on her planet seemed to think so.

  Gods bones, she hoped she wasn’t destined to end up with any of the idiots on her planet. They had yet to impress her.

  When it was her turn to go to the Breeding Festival, the crystal would
glow signifying her curse for all to see. Well, her “blessing” as her mother called it. Lady Grace did not appreciate her daughter calling marriage a curse. Grace did not appreciate a lot of things that Medellyn liked, such as swords and bows, ceffyl riding, camping alone in the forest, hunting, sparring, smashing arrogant looks off of dragon men’s faces.

  It was a fight with her mother that sent her running through the mountain forest. Medellyn hated the woman, hated what her mother wanted her daughter to be. Grace was only a human, brought to their planet as a bartered bride. She married Medellyn’s father without question and spent most of her days completely in docile agreement with whatever her husband said. Medellyn couldn’t imagine taking anyone else’s opinions over her own.

  Her father, Axell, was a highly praised warrior in the Draig army and carried the title of Top Breeder of the ceffyls. The man’s whole life focused on four things: his wife, his only child, and mares and steeds. Her father was a very important man, but his work kept him away from home several nights a week as he slept outdoors with the herd. With a three-year gestation period and only about fifty percent live-birth rate, the animals were not a resource that could be easily renewed. His ceffyls supplied the soldiers with mounts and farmers used them for beasts of burden to help with the fields.

  Like Axell, Medellyn was a proud dragon. Had she been born male, she would have been a warrior, too. Instead, she was special. How could her human mother begin to understand the wildness than ran in her dragon blood? If she had, Grace would never have asked Medellyn to tame her spirit.

  Breathing hard, she came to an abrupt halt and screamed into the trees. Her body shook with rage and she tore at the pretty gown she wore. She hated her body, hated being special, hated being expected to act like a lady when she felt like a dragon. Her taloned finger snagged on the crystal around her neck and she cut the leather strap of the necklace. The crystal flew several feet away.

  “I am not some man’s chattel,” she yelled, knowing she’d run far enough away that her mother could not hear her retorts. Since she was shifted her voice was hoarse and powerful, and she reveled in the fierceness of it. “I am not some breeding ceffyl to have children. It is not my place to give you fifty grandkids. I can’t help you only had one child. If you would have made me a boy, I wouldn’t be a disappointment to you!”

  Tears stung her eyes as Medellyn walked aimlessly, searching the forest floor for the fallen necklace. Finding it, she grabbed the inert crystal into her fist. It was a reminder of all she was expected to be. She took a deep breath, looking at her fist and then to the stones littering the forest floor. A small smile formed on her mouth. Medellyn dropped the crystal on the hard ground and glared at it. Rage boiled inside her, the kind of rage surely only a dragon shifter could feel.

  “This is what I think of your fate,” she growled as she fell to her knees.

  Medellyn grabbed a heavy rock and smashed it down onto her necklace. The crystal cracked. The noise gave her some satisfaction so she hit it again. Grunting with each strike of the stone, she didn’t stop until her future had been ground to dust.

  “That is what I think of your destiny.”

  To find out more about Michelle’s books visit www.MichellePillow.com.

  Act of Mercy by Mandy M. Roth

  Bestselling Paranormal Shifter Romance Series

  Paranormal Security and Intelligence Operative Duke Marlow has a new mission: find, interrogate and possibly eliminate the target—Mercy Deluca. He knows looks can be deceiving, but it's hard to believe the beautifully quirky woman running around in a superhero t-shirt is a viable threat. The sexy little biomedical engineer quickly proves she is more than he bargained for and Intel has it all wrong—she’s not the enemy. Far from it. Intel also forgot to mention one vital piece of information—she’s Duke’s mate. This immortal alpha werewolf doesn’t take kindly to her being in danger.

  When Mercy accepted a position within Donavon Dynamics Corporation, she thought it was to help cure disease and to make a difference for mankind. She had no idea what her new career path truly entailed—monsters masquerading under the guise of scientific research. Unable to stomach the atrocities she’s uncovered, she reaches out through what she hopes is the proper channels, asking for help. Mercy gets more than she bargained for when a team of paranormal hotties show up on her doorstep ready to take down the Corporation. One in particular is able to get under her skin, both aggravating and exciting her in ways she can’t explain.

  Excerpt from Act of Mercy (PSI/Immortal Ops)

  Duke didn’t need telling again. He stormed over to Mercy’s door and knocked with far more force than he’d intended, surprising even himself as the door flew inwards, crashing loudly. His adrenaline was on overdrive. He rushed in, expecting a screaming and frantic woman. He found none. The main living area was empty.

  Shit.

  “Dr. Deluca!” he shouted.

  No response. He sniffed the air, catching a familiar scent instantly. It was the same one he’d smelled at the café. The scent that left him in a claiming mindset. The wolf in him woke, clawing to surface. It wanted out. It wanted to do something drastic.

  Claim its mate.

  Mine.

  Duke had to stop to steady himself, the thought of potentially having a mate nearly taking him to his knees.

  Get your shit together. Bad guys are coming and you’re thinking about marriage.

  His body ignored his command. It knew that scent. The wolf confirmed what he suspected. She’d been in the café.

  She’s yours.

  It felt as if he were climbing through a haze of emotions. His cock picked then to act a fool, hardening, wanting what he smelled. He wanted to find her and fuck her senseless.

  Down boy. We need to get her to safety.

  His cock ignored him.

  Figured.

  Duke followed the scent and tapped much, much lighter this time on the bedroom door. Again, no response. He knew she was in there. He could smell her. Maybe she was afraid. After all, he did just throw her front door into her kitchen area.

  He turned the handle and opened the door slightly. “Dr. Deluca?”

  Duke couldn’t move. His entire body acted as if he’d been hit by something that froze him in place. There before him was the tiny doctor, dancing, of all things. She was shaking her backside as she packed mismatched clothing into a small bag. She sang a song about a string of some sort. He’d never heard it before but damn if it wasn’t adorable coming out of her.

  Adorable?

  What the fuck?

  She didn’t seem to notice him there at all and she’d clearly not heard him break her door down.

  How the hell could she miss that?

  “Doctor!” he shouted, still stuck in place by the sight of her. Part of him feared if he got any closer to her that he might actually act on the impulse to fuck her. Didn’t help matters that she was still shaking her sexy little ass. It was altogether too easy to picture her bent before him, his hands on her hips, holding her in place as he lined up with her wet core. His cock was painfully thick and hard, agreeing with how perfect the thought of being in her would be.

  He couldn’t recall a time in his long life when he’d reacted so fiercely to the sight and smell of a female. Yet, this one before him had his mind a puddle of sex-ridden mush and she’d not even spoken a word to him.

  Fuck. If he she talks to me I’ll come.

  Fuck. France did break me!

  I hate France.

  His cock pushed against his jeans, wanting to join in the dancing fun with her. The more she shook her perfect ass, the more turned on he became. She danced in a circle and stopped, her eyes widening when she spotted him.

  “Are you here to fix the sink?” she asked in the loudest shout possible for someone her size. Her voice slid over him, caressing his eager cock, nearly making him lose control. He had to bite his inner cheek to help before he did something extra embarrassing. That or just grabbed her and kissed her un
til she melted against him.

  Do it.

  He wanted to punch his wolf in the face.

  “Are. You. Here. To. Fix. The. Sink,” she repeated, still yelling, but this time punctuating each word as if he were the simple one. He’d have noticed someone holding a gun.

  “What?” Was she for real? He was holding a firearm and she wanted to know if he was there to fix her sink. He was totally and completely obsessed with a crazy woman. There were no two ways about it. She had to be nuts.

  Fucking sexy as could be, but nuts.

  He knew her specs. He’d read them, yet seeing her in person made him very aware of just how small she was in comparison to him. The alpha in him wanted to sweep her up and protect her from all the wrong in the world. Right now, he had to convince her that a big guy with a handgun in her living room was something worthy of panic, or at the very least, notice.

  She seemed oblivious.

  Striker’s tales of redheads came flooding back.

  Duke had a feeling Mercy would be totally worth any headache or insanity she brought to the table.

  “I can’t hear you,” she said before smiling wide—gifting him the same quirky smile she’d had in her photos.

  It rocked him to his very core. He wanted to kiss her. Didn’t matter that men were coming to try to kill them all. He wanted his lips on hers.

  Snap out of it.

  She removed her headphones. “Sorry. They’re noise cancelling. I actually tweaked them to sound out everything, not just a certain percentage. They work great.”

  He’d say so.

  “Are you here to fix the sink?” she asked, eyeing him carefully. “You’re not the normal fix-it guy.”

  He waited for her to freak out about a gunman in her bedroom. Granted, he was the gunman, but still he wanted to know she had at least minimal basic survival instincts. Apparently, the woman had none to speak of whatsoever. “What?”

 

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