A Love Worth Biting For (Hart Clan Hybrids)

by Roxy Mews

  A door slammed. Swearing, snarls and spitting hisses pierced the early morning quiet of what promised to be a beautiful summer day. Life in the pride was never dull, but today looked to be especially interesting.

  Whistling, Dean Chastell grabbed a cup of coffee and reveled in the comfort of having such a close-knit, loving extended family.

  “Son of a…! I’m going to kick your butt, Chastell!” Miles Bermin, fellow shapeshifter and current Catamount Ranch guest, had been using the shower upstairs because the water heater in his cabin wasn’t working.

  At least, not since Dean had tampered with it.

  “Miles?” From upstairs, Burke’s deep voice sounded rusty. “What the hell? It’s not even seven yet.” Great, now Burke would be in a bad mood. Dean’s oldest brother and pride leader wasn’t exactly pleased with him lately. Not after yesterday’s mess with the gray wolves.

  The mangy bastards.

  Dean decided it might be prudent to leave—and fast—before he was discovered, and bumped into a troublesome gray wolf on his way out the back door.

  “Where are you off to so early?” Monty GrayClaw, the only wolf in the pride, yawned and stretched as he entered the house. “I thought today was your day off.”

  Dean shrugged and put down his coffee. “Just thought I’d get in a few—”

  Burke’s laughter echoed through the house. “Holy crap. Is your hair blue?”

  Monty blinked. “Your brother’s up early. This can’t be good. And who’s he talking to?”

  “Yeah, it’s blue,” Miles roared. “I have business to attend to today, not to mention a date later this evening. And blue hair?”

  Monty’s grin stretched across his lips. “Nice.”

  Like Dean, Monty didn’t particularly care for the snotty cats visiting from Miami. They tolerated the females well enough—mostly—but Miles was a huge pain at the best of times. It didn’t help that the women in town thought he walked on water.

  Dean did his best to look innocent, and failed miserably when Monty started laughing. Loudly.

  Footsteps pounded overhead. Miles’s scent drew closer, robust with the heat of rage. Considering the dude had a few inches on Dean, as well as a surprisingly muscular frame under the stupid designer suits he often wore, Dean decided to make haste. He inched past Monty toward the door.

  “I’d hurry if I were you.” Monty nodded for him to go.

  Deciding avoidance made sense—because who wanted to fight so early on a gorgeous Friday morning—Dean slipped outside and into his truck. He turned the key and shifted into reverse when the passenger door opened.

  Christ, wasn’t one of them enough to deal with today? He stared in dismay at the most beautiful—and annoying—woman he’d ever had the misfortune to know. “Not now, Stacey. I’m late for work.”

  “You have today off.” Miles’s sister just stood there looking finer than fine.

  “Come on. I have things to do. Shut the door and move away.”

  He inched the truck back. Any second now Miles would be out the door…

  “I need a ride into town.” She glanced behind her at the back door and frowned.

  Fuming because he had two choices—give in to the princess’s demands or suffer Miles’s wrath—he leaned across the passenger’s seat. “What did you say?”

  When she leaned closer to respond, he grabbed her by the collar and yanked her inside. She yelped as she tried to right herself, while he gassed the truck and lurched back just as Miles Bermin tore through the back door of the house, dripping wet and wearing nothing more than a towel and blue hair.

  “Get back here!”

  Stacey swore as the car door slammed, barely missing her pricey skirt. She stared out the front window and gasped. “Oh my God. Is Miles’s hair blue?”

  Miles had made one too many comments about Dean’s love life at dinner last night. It was one thing for the rest of the pride to joke about him being the last standing Chastell without a mate, but when Miles said it, he sounded insulting. A lot like his sister. Dean regarded Stacey out of the corner of his eye, wishing he could turn off his attraction to her.

  Whipping the wheel to turn the truck around, Dean jumped on the gas and tore down the dirt driveway. He kept his gaze half on the drive and half on the rearview, making sure Miles didn’t decide to go for broke and hunt him down. But all the while he remained painfully aware of the woman next to him.

  He’d dated his share of women. Had never hurt for girlfriends or a companion on a Saturday night. But none of them held a candle to Stacey Bermin. Part of the Miami pride temporarily staying at the Catamount Ranch, Stacey represented every fantasy of feline perfection he’d ever had.

  Long golden hair—not blond or brown, but white spun with gold—lay in soft waves over her shoulders. A strand curled above her breast, drawing his attention to the generous swell cupped by what was no doubt an expensive lacy bra under her blouse. The woman designed clothes for a living and looked like a professional model. Today she wore spiked heels with some kind of leopard print—which he hoped to hell was fake—a short khaki skirt and a silky shirt that brought out the blue of her eyes. Like her brother, she had looks that attracted attention no matter where she went. And when she dressed like that, people stopped to stare. She was that hot.

  “Problem, Jethro?” she asked in that haughty voice that set him on edge and got him hard in a heartbeat.

  He thickened a hick accent to annoy her. “It’s Gomer, darlin’. Just wondering why you’re out of the house without protection.”

  “It’s been a month. If Lex was going to pull something, he’d have done so by now.”

  “Maybe.” Then again, with what they’d heard about the Ac-taw down South, the shapeshifting scum might be lying in wait, just itching for a chance to kidnap and torture the Bermins one at a time.

  “Besides, I’m with you.” Stacey sniffed. “No doubt if there’s a problem, you can call Burke or Grady for help.”

  As if Dean couldn’t handle a few scraggly Florida cats by himself. He forced himself to ignore yet another insult. “So here’s another question for ya. Why are you dressing like a hooker on a Friday morning? Got a hot date over eggs and bacon at the Fox’s Henhouse? ’Cause that’s where we’re headed.”

  “Not that I agree with you, but really, hooker? If anything, I’d go with high-class call girl.” She frowned. And even that turned him on, the way her light-colored brows furrowed, wrinkling the baby-fine skin of her siren face. “I thought you were going into Whitefish.”

  “Nah. Grady’s got that covered.” His older brother had this morning’s tour group because he’d switched with Dean for the weekend. Now that Grady had mated his own spirited cat, he’d turned into a real homebody. Of course, if Dean found someone as nice and pretty as Gabby Easton, he’d have done the same.

  He gave Stacey another discreet once-over, wondering what she might be like if she could keep her mouth closed, or at the least go for ten seconds at a time without saying something mean. He counted silently to eight before she parted her lips. He sighed.

  “Any reason you can think of that my brother—who has a meeting in another three hours with an investment firm interested in expanding our designs out West—would have dyed his hair blue today?”

  Inwardly, Dean cringed. Okay, so it hadn’t been the best time for a little revenge on the snot staying with them. Temporarily, he kept reminding himself. Although Stacey’s sisters seemed to have settled in right nice, Stacey and Miles acted like they’d rather be anywhere but Cougar Falls.

  “No idea. Maybe he wants to impress Juneau Jacobs? Heard he has a date tonight.” Juneau was a sweet bear who could do so much better than Miles.

  Stacey’s lips thinned.

  “What? Hell, if something as stupid as blue hair will kill the deal, then do you really want these investors in the first place?” Great. Now he was feeling guilty about giving Miles what he deserved. Trust Stacey to ruin a great prank.

  “I thought you and
Juneau were an item. Or is it Reggie you’re catting around with lately?”

  At least she wasn’t worried about Miles, which meant he hadn’t screwed up their chance to nab investors. He frowned. “Juneau and I dated over a year ago. Reggie’s a nice girl. A friend. You have a problem with her?” He left the dirt road leading to the ranch and headed into town.

  “Not at all. It’s not the poor girl’s fault she’s been tempted by the town slut. The women around here have pitifully little to work with.”

  He gritted his teeth and clenched the wheel. He reminded himself she was under the pride’s protection, that the skirmish in Miami wasn’t quite over, and that danger could be stalking her just around the corner. But damn, it was hard to remember all that with her smug expression daring him to give her a taste of her own medicine.

  At the word taste, he immediately wondered what her lips would feel like under his. Oh hell. Not going there. Not with this one. He just wished he didn’t always have to remind himself of that fact.

  He pulled into the parking lot of the crowding diner, turned off the engine and faced her with a forced smile. “Sweetheart, if I’d known how interested you were in my love life, I’d have made sure to save you a night.” He leaned closer, entranced by the lingering smell of her perfume and by the heady scent of anger roiling from her pores. “I can pencil you in on a Sunday afternoon if you’d like.” He trailed a finger down her forearm to her hand and did his best to ignore the heat licking through his body.

  He thought for a moment her pupils dilated, that he caught the spike of arousal in the air. Until she gave him one of her trademark sneers, which annoyed him to no end, because even her disgust turned him on.

  “You could only be so lucky.” Stacey left the truck with the grace of a feline in her prime. After shutting the door, she leaned in through the window and gave him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage framed by a blue lace bra. “Sorry, sweetheart, but my tastes run higher than the five ’n dime.”

  Wishing for a little excitement in your life? Be careful what you wish for…

  Necromancing Nim

  © 2012 Katriena Knights

  Nimuë Taylor thought working for a vampire would be cool. Instead it’s just like any other annoying job, complete with a boss, Colin, who drives her crazy. Other than the daily humdrum routine, nothing much exciting happens.

  Until the day Sebastian, Colin’s old friend (read: ex-lover) comes to town, bearing a magical stone that can make any vampire immortal. Really immortal. He doesn’t want to use it, just keep it out of the wrong hands. Trouble is, the wrong hands are getting far too close—and the stone is slowly draining Sebastian’s life force.

  When Nim unwittingly comes between the stone and its hunter, she’s bitten. Not by just any vampire, but by one whose bite turns victims into mindless zombies. Healing her involves a ritual that creates a blood bond that’s as passionate as it is dangerous.

  For in the fight to keep and destroy the stone of ultimate power, one of them will have to break that bond…and make the ultimate sacrifice.

  Warning: This book contains high levels of sarcasm, swathes of swearing, sex with two hot vampires at once, and a dog that likes to eat coffee grounds.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Necromancing Nim:

  It was a good thing the stop had gone well. Sebastian was leaning against the passenger-side window, sound asleep. Dark lashes fanned across his pale cheeks, and I could swear if I looked closely I could see a freckle or two. Vampires didn’t usually get my libido revving, but this one did. Except he didn’t breathe when he was asleep. That was just weird.

  He was still asleep when I pulled back into my parking spot in the garage under Sixteenth Street. I poked him in the shoulder.

  “Mr. Marcheleto. Wake up.”

  He didn’t move. I poked him harder. “Sebastian.”

  Still nothing. It occurred to me that there was no reliable way to tell if he was asleep or actually dead. Well, dead dead as opposed to normal vampire-type dead. The thought brought an uncomfortable flash of alarm. Why I was worried, I didn’t know. I didn’t even know the guy. I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Sebastian!”

  He opened one eye and peered at me. “No need to shout.”

  Embarrassed now, I gathered my composure. “Sorry. You wouldn’t wake up. I thought you might be…” I trailed off.

  “Dead?” He snorted. “Of course I’m dead. I’m a vampire.” He shoved a hand through his short but still unruly brown hair. “I take it everything went well?”

  “Yes, thank God, since you were snoring in my car.”

  “If I was snoring, why did you think I might be dead?”

  He had me there. “Because you were snoring figuratively, not literally.” I grabbed my purse and my clipboard. “I thought vamps only slept in the daytime.”

  He grimaced. “It’s the burns. They’re trying to heal, and I need the extra rest.”

  It made sense, especially since he was so obviously undernourished. “Are you sure you want to just barge in? You’re sort of an escaped convict at the moment.” I really didn’t want to leave him out here in the parking garage, though. He’d probably be safe, but the place creeped me out, and it seemed unwise, not to mention impolite, to leave him there alone.

  He nodded. “Just tell Colin I’m here. We’ll go from there.”

  I considered. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I don’t think you should be left alone.” I could tell he was about to protest and waved him quiet, the answer to the dilemma suddenly obvious. I emptied the pockets of my hoodie, pulled it off and handed it to him. “Put this on,” I said. “Use the hood to cover up a little.” He peered skeptically at me, then at the hoodie. “Yeah, yeah, so I’m half your height. You’re skinny. Put it on.”

  Still dubious, he slid the hoodie on. I get them big so I can layer—a necessity in Denver’s capricious weather—so it actually almost fit him. He put the hood up, letting it fall over his face.

  “Perfect,” I said, ignoring his narrow wrists poking out of the too-short sleeves. “Let’s go.”

  I had to admit I was curious as to what might have been the deal between Sebastian and my boss. This was the first time I’d heard of Colin having any friends to speak of, much less friends who would come to him for help in a bind. Not that I knew much about Colin to begin with. He played his personal life pretty close to the vest. I wasn’t even sure he had one. Which was surprising, since he was big and gorgeous and had that commanding, alpha-male air that a lot of women who were not me seemed to like.

  Rather than barge in through the front door and the waiting area, I led Sebastian around to the side entrance that opened into the hallway behind my minuscule office space.

  “Have a seat in there,” I told him. “Stay low, and I’ll go get Colin.”

  He peered into the cramped room. “This is your office?”

  “Yeah.” I quirked an eyebrow. “You wanted to comment?”

  His mouth twitched. “It’s a good thing you’re tiny.”

  Rolling my eyes, I left him there to squeeze his way into a chair. Maybe he and Colin had something in common after all.

  In the reception area, Colin was camped out on Kim’s desk again, sitting a little hunched, arms crossed over his wide chest, glaring at the TV. Kim drilled holes in his back with her eyeballs, like she was about to kill him or at the very least turn in her resignation. I couldn’t blame her. I’d had her job once. It hadn’t gone well. Which was why I was in collections now.

  I paused just behind her. The reason for Colin’s death glare at the TV became immediately obvious. The news was running a story regarding Sebastian’s escape. They’d upgraded him from the headline tractor at the bottom of the screen to a full-fledged story.

  “…the suspect should be considered extremely dangerous,” the newscaster was saying. “If you see anyone matching this description, call local law enforcement immediately. In addition, be on the lookout for Therese Wilkins, f
ive feet eight, brown hair…”

  Colin scrunched his brow up even more and gave me a glance. “Back already?”

  I reluctantly dragged my attention away from the TV. I’d wanted to hear more about Therese Wilkins, the victim of the Brown Palace murder that wasn’t a murder anymore. “Yeah.” I handed him the clipboard. “I’m done. And we need to talk.”

  He nodded curtly, jumped off Kim’s desk and headed for his office.

  “My office,” I said. He wheeled and stared at me like I’d spoken something other than English. “My. Office,” I said again, gesturing with my eyebrows toward the room in question.

  “Ooo-kay,” he said and followed me. Kim watched us go, and the smile she gave me was one of abject adoration. I guess she was extra happy I’d gotten his ass off her desk. Personally, I was surprised he’d decided to take orders from me.

  I led the way into the office, probably acting far more suspicious than necessary. Nobody was paying much attention to us, more focused on the clock and how long it was until midnight when they could all grab some lunch. Colin’s air of skeptical superiority held until I pushed open the door; then, just for a millisecond, he wasn’t glaring.

  “Sebastian?”

  Sebastian, sitting hunched over in the chair behind my desk, jumped as if he’d started to doze off again. Colin moved to him, sliding around desk and chairs with a surprising grace I’d never seen from him before, and gently touched Sebastian’s face, avoiding the angry burns. My eyebrows shot up. That was more than just a casual touch. In fact, it seemed possible they didn’t just know each other but knew each other. Like in the biblical sense. I decided to keep my mouth shut for once, though resisting temptation was so hard it caused actual physical pain.

  Sebastian blinked, then opened his eyes as Colin’s touch shifted, his fingers tracing the edges of the raw, red sun marks. They had faded even in the last hour or so but still looked harsh and painful.

  Sebastian’s hand rose to touch Colin’s, moving it away from the sores on his face. It was a gentle contact, though, and his fingers lingered. “Colin?”