Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here

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Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here Page 27

by Christine Warren


  She’d been kidnapped.

  Every synapse in her brain seemed to fire at once, attacking her with an explosion of pain and confusion more intense than anything she had ever experienced. Memory flooded back, dearly drowning her. She felt like she was watching a movie montage—seeing herself at the girls’ night party at Reggie’s house, staring into the powder room mirror, walking home with her anger keeping her company, passing by an alley she’d walked in front of a million times before….

  Then the film went cockeyed, a handheld camera tumbling to its side. She saw the flash of movement on her right, felt the stirring of air and the overwhelming, inhuman strength of the thing that had grabbed her, grabbed her and dragged her deeper into the alley. She saw the slick, dark brick, smelled blood and rot and sick coming from the body that lay in a lifeless pile against the alley wall, smelled it on the breath and the skin and the empty soulless void of the monster holding her. She felt its arm around her neck, corded with muscle and hatred, cutting off her air, leaving her choking and gasping for breath. She felt its hot, fetid breath against her skin, felt the sharp tear of fangs against flesh, and her welling panic took the freeway exit straight to the blind, instinctual, animal imperative to escape.

  Gathering her breath, Ava opened her mouth to scream and threw every ounce of strength in her body into breaking the bonds that held her. She got out no more than a short, sharp whistle before a large male hand clamped over her mouth and cut off her cry.

  Her gaze shot to an unfamiliar face, one that hardly looked like it could belong to the stink in her memory. This man looked like death, but not the kind of death that snuck up behind a woman in a dark alley and bled her dry—more like the kind of death that knights had once faced on the battlefield, strong and quiet and rigidly calm. He had features as sharp-edged as stone, intensely masculine and far too heavy to admire. Ava worked every day with models who epitomized the modern sensibility of male beauty, and if this man had walked into her office, she’d have turned him around and sent him right back out again.

  Or rather, she’d have called security—and maybe a SWAT team—and had him escorted out again.

  Beautiful he wasn’t, not even with the slightly too-long hair that framed his face in a dozen shades of blond, from warm toffee to cold platinum (Ava had clients—both male and female—who would pay thousands for that hair and never quite be satisfied), but something about him compelled. Maybe it was the eyes—sharp, intent, and the pale blue-gray of an arctic landscape. Or the way those eyes watched her with the quiet, frozen patience of a hawk just waiting for the moment to strike.

  Big Bad Wolf

  “Another hot and spicy novel from a master of paranormal romance.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  Missy Roper’s fantasies have revolved around Graham Winters since the moment they met. But the imposing leader of the Silverback werewolf clan always seemed oblivious to Missy’s existence. At least he was, until Missy collides with him at a party and then abruptly runs away—arousing Graham’s interest…and wild desires.

  Lupine law decrees that every Alpha must have a mate, and all Graham’s instincts tell him that the sensual, beguiling Missy is his. Trouble is, Missy is human—every delectable inch of her. Convincing his clan that she’s his destined mate, and keeping her safe from his enemies, will be the biggest challenges Graham has ever faced. And now that he is determined to have her—as his lover and as his mate—Missy’s world is changing in ways she never imagined…

  Abstinence wouldn’t be quite so bad, Graham decided, if not for the lack of sex.

  Nursing his fifth scotch and wishing it were a fifth of scotch, the alpha of the Silverback Clan of New York City spent his Saturday night in a manner no self-respecting werewolf should ever have to endure—single and celibate.

  At least he didn’t have to spend it alone, he reflected, although the type of companionship he could expect to find at his friends’ post-wedding engagement party left a lot to be desired. A bit long in the tooth for his taste. Graham preferred women who hadn’t been painting the town red back when his ancestors still thought of the cotton gin as a newfangled contraption. Plus, seeing that he’d just broken off his on-again-off-again relationship with one particular vampire, he didn’t feel any great compulsion to go start a new one. Immortal women all seemed to be just a little too demanding.

  Why he bothered to sulk here in the corner, rather than excusing himself and getting out there to meet the Lupine woman of his dreams, remained a mystery. He couldn’t blame a fear of commitment like so many human men seemed to do. Werewolves relished the idea of a mate-bond and lived to beget lots of new generations of baby Lupines, and even Graham looked forward to the day when he would rear his own cubs in the traditions of his clan and his ancestors. Commitment sounded just fine to him. It wasn’t fear that had him in this mood; it was boredom.

  Graham suffered from a huge, honking case of the same old–same olds. Everywhere he looked, he saw the same faces, the same habits, heard the same gossip, and seduced the same women. Oh, their names and hair color might change, but deep down, they were all the same to him. The realization depressed him. What had happened to the carefree, rakish wolf he used to be? These days he acted more like a priest than a playboy.

  He’d gotten sick of all the women, and all modesty aside, Graham Winters had had a lot of women. Some were little more than one-night stands, some recurrent companions, and some had bordered on casual relationships, but none managed to hold his interest for more than a few weeks.

  Taking another sip of liquid fire, Graham glanced around the room and wondered how much longer etiquette required him to stay. He viewed Dmitri as a brother, and he genuinely liked Regina, so he was glad to share in the celebration, especially since he’d had to duck out on his best-man duties at their reception in order to deal with a fire in the kitchen of the nightclub he owned. What he wasn’t so glad of was the speculative glances currently being aimed in his direction by a large number of the room’s single—and some not-so-single—women. He worked at ignoring their interest, but he knew it was only a matter of time before one of them decided to lay off the staring and make a move.

  “I vote for the redhead. She looks like the type who’s ready for anything. Plus I don’t think she’s wearing pan ties.”

  His friend and beta appeared at Graham’s side, carrying a dark brown beer bottle and wearing a repressed smile. Logan Hunter knew all about Graham’s predicament and seemed to find it amusing. Graham shot him a narrow look.

  “She never does,” he grumbled. “But I doubt Shelley is going to put the make on me, not after the last time we went out.”

  “Did you spill a drink on her dress or something?”

  Graham shook his head. “I criticized her, um, technique.”

  Logan winced around a chuckle. “Ouch. Okay, maybe not the redhead then.” He glanced back to where Shelley stood, whispering to a couple of other women. “Could be her friend, the one almost wearing the green dress. Do you think those are real?”

  “On vampires, they’re always real. They can’t afford to bleed out during surgery just to get implants.” He gave the other woman an assessing look. “Besides, not even silicone can make tits that firm. Hildie works out.”

  Raising his beer for a drink, Logan rolled his eyes. “And I’m sure you’d know. But you could at least make an effort. Lady knows you need to do something to lighten your mood. What the hell is up with you tonight anyway?”

  “Three guesses,” Graham muttered. “I’ll even spot you the first two.”

  Logan grimaced. “Shit. Curtis.”

  “Right both times.”

  “What’s he done now?”

  “Same old, same old. This week he tried to get Bill Lakeland to take an interest in examining the validity of the challenge Dad and I fought when he decided to retire and leave the business of alpha to me.”

  Logan nearly choked on his beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I
wish.”

  “I don’t care how many packs consider Bill an expert of the traditional procedures for alpha challenges, you took that fight fair and square. Your father wouldn’t even cut your mother any slack in a challenge ring, let alone the son he raised to continue his family dynasty!”

  “You know that, and I know that…”

  “And so does anyone who was there watching. You took that challenge fairly and by the skin of your teeth. For a few minutes, I wondered if both of you were going to leave the circle alive.”

  Graham’s mouth twisted. “So did we.”

  “So how does he figure he can protest the outcome?”

  “Beats me. I doubt he thought he’d really get anywhere with that kind of nonsense. Chances are he was just pulling my chain.”

  “And how long has that been his favorite hobby?”

  “Let’s see. I’m thirty-four and Curtis is seven years younger, so…” Graham pursed his lips and pretended to think. “About twenty-seven years, I think.”

  Logan nodded. “And you did what to set him off again?”

  “Be born first, be my father’s son, and be more of a Lupine than he’ll ever be?”

  “Right. So you’re just going to go on ignoring him?”

  “That’s the plan.” Graham saw the disgust in his friend’s expression and smiled. “Trust me, it’s easier to ignore him than it is to dignify his idiocy with a response. If I got worked up every time he pulled a stupid stunt just to piss me off, I’d be the first Lupine in recorded medical history to have to take blood pressure medication.”

  Logan sighed. “True enough.” He took a long pull on his beer and gave the room another thorough glance. “Which means that you could definitely use a distraction tonight. So? Who’s it going to be?”

  “No one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m not in the mood for a woman.”

  “You know, you’ve been saying that with distressing regularity lately, my friend,” Logan pointed out. “I don’t know about your blood pressure, but you might want to talk to a doctor about your libido if this keeps up.”

  Graham glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with my libido. It’s not me; it’s the women. Haven’t you noticed they’re all the same?”

  “Well, where it counts, I suppose….”

  “That’s not what I mean. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I just know I’m…bored.” He gestured around the room with his whiskey glass. “Not a fresh face in sight.”

  “Since when do you go for a fresh face? I thought you were an ass man.”

  “Since I realized I’d seen all of these faces a hundred times before.”

  “Come on,” Logan chided. “There has to be a woman here you haven’t slept with.”

  “Regina.”

  “She doesn’t count. Dmitri would break your legs, wait a couple of hours for them to heal, then break them again. And after that, he might get cranky. I’m talking about the rest of them. The ones who aren’t married to your best friend, and aren’t from our pack, since they’re all practically family.”

  Graham took a quick look around, followed by a longer look. On his third sweep of the assembled crowd, he stopped and pointed toward a grouping of furniture occupied by three very attractive females. “There,” he said. “Those three. I haven’t slept with a single one of them.”

  Logan followed his gesture and sighed. “Yeah. Regina’s closest friends, who are probably the only human women here tonight, and we both know you don’t do humans.”

  Draining his glass, Graham scanned the room one last time, dismissing each of the women he passed. His eyes never seemed to pause more than half a second on any of them, no matter how attractive or how skimpily dressed, until they drifted over one curvaceous female bottom and skidded to a grinding halt.

  He could almost smell rubber burning.

  His eyes caressed the full, generous lines of her backside encased in a form-fitting skirt of some clingy black material. The fabric draped over that delectable tush, showing him each rounded curve in heart-stopping detail. To his surprise, he couldn’t tell if she was wearing pan ties, but unlike Shelley’s lack of lingerie, the idea of this woman bare beneath her dress aroused more than just his curiosity.

  “And her,” he growled, all his attention focused on the woman whose face he still hadn’t seen. If it looked half as good as what he had seen, he’d be a very happy man. “I haven’t had her. Yet.”

  Born to be Wild

  “Warren takes readers for a wild ride, and when she is done, the reader begs for more.”

  —Night Owl Romance

  Josie Barrett brings out the animal in men. Literally. As the local veterinarian in a town that’s approximately seventy percent Others—mostly shapeshifters—Josie deals with beastly situations all the time. It’s practically part of her job description. But when the werewolves of Stone Creek, Oregon, start turning downright feral, Josie smells a rat—among other, more dangerous critters.

  Teaming up with the ferociously sexy Eli Pace, a full-time sheriff and part-time were-lion, Josie tries to contain the shapeshifting problem before it spreads like a virus. But when more shifters get infected—and stuck in their animal forms—the fur really begins to fly. Josie and Eli have to find the cause, fast, before the whole town goes to the dogs. But first, they have to wrestle with a few animal urges of their own.

  Eli watched the object of his fascination sway toward him and bit back the urge to reach out and haul her across the table. For most of the last twenty-four hours, he might have wondered whether Josie Barrett felt even a fraction of the attraction for him that he had developed for her; but if that slightly dazed look in her eyes and the smell of her sweet warm skin were any indication, his question had just been answered with a resounding yes.

  He might actually have thrown caution to the wind and eaten her alive if her dog hadn’t chosen just that moment to switch his allegiance from his clearly neglectful mistress and drape his huge, drooling muzzle on the thigh of Eli’s jeans. Clamping his teeth together, Eli pulled back and sent the mutt an only half-joking glare. Somehow, the feel of canine saliva soaking through denim proved to be a real mood killer.

  “What?” he growled at the dog, hoping Josie would assume he was teasing. “Are you trying to tell us it’s time for dessert?”

  The veterinarian blushed scarlet at that question and reached for the dog’s collar. At least, he hoped it was from the question and the knowledge that each of them would like very much to have the other for dessert, instead of from the embarrassment of having a hungry hound assault her guest.

  “Bruce!” she scolded sharply, grabbing her half-eaten dinner with her free hand and hauling both food and dog toward another room of the clinic. “You know better than to beg from company. Come on. You can finish my leftovers in the file room, if you can’t be trusted to behave yourself.”

  Frankly, the only one whose behavior Eli distrusted at the moment was himself. He’d been about three seconds away from ravishing the pretty veterinarian on her own exam table, so what did that say about his company manners?

  Josie returned a second later, already apologizing. “I’m so sorry about that. He doesn’t normally do that to people he’s just met, but I’m afraid that when it comes to Laura Beth’s meat loaf, the idiot just has no self-control.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I understand about the futility of resisting that kind of temptation.”

  Believe me, I know.

  “I should thank you again for dinner,” she said, beginning to fuss with the debris of their meal, balling up napkins and dropping them into the discarded take-out sack. “It was very nice of you to bring it over so late.”

  “Is that what it was?” Eli growled. He crushed his empty soda can in his fist and tossed it into the recycling bin under the counter. “I didn’t buy you dinner to be nice.”

  Josie blinked up at him, her eyes wide and wary. “You didn’t?”

  “No.”

  “The
n why did you?”

  “Because I wanted to. I wanted to get to know you better. I still do.”

  She didn’t say anything at first, just kept her eyes fixed on the shiny surface of the exam table as she sprayed it with disinfectant and wiped it with a wad of paper towels. Eli almost found himself wishing for the first time that he were a vampire, so he could get an idea of what was going on in that head of hers.

  “There’s really not that much to know,” she said finally. “I’ve already told you most of it. I grew up here in Stone Creek. I became a vet. I took over my dad’s practice when he and my mother decided to retire to Arizona. My older sister lives there, too, with her husband and two kids. And you already met Bruce. That’s pretty much the full story.”

  They bumped shoulders when each of them reached to deposit their litter in the trash bin at the same time. Josie seemed to withdraw from the brief contact, and that pissed Eli off. He didn’t want her trying to get away from him.

  He didn’t want her getting away.

  Maybe he would have reacted differently if he hadn’t seen that he intrigued her just as much as she did him. He could read it in her eyes, in the rhythm of her breath. And he could smell it on her skin. This was a mutual fascination they had going between them, and he refused to let her ignore it.

  Grabbing her gently by the elbow, Eli turned Josie to face him and softly tightened his grip. She lifted her chin, her gaze skittering away from his to settle somewhere in the vicinity of his left earlobe.

  “That’s not what I meant, Josie,” he murmured quietly, but her shivers told him she heard. It wasn’t that cold inside the clinic, no matter how chilly it had gotten outside. He reached up and tucked an escaped strand of shiny dark hair behind her ear, and the shivering intensified. “I think you know that.”

 

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