Mark of the Bear (Hades' Carnival)

by N. J. Walters

Warning: This book contains an ancient curse, an imprisoned goddess, a graphic artist and the hot shapeshifting immortal warrior who turns her life upside down while they battle Hades and his minions for their immortal souls. There is also plenty of hot sex between the heroine and her hot, shapeshifting warrior. Just saying.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Night of the Tiger:

  Dreaming. She was dreaming. Sighing, Aimee began to relax, much happier with this turn of events. She shuddered, hating the sensation of falling through the air, the pure helplessness of it.

  There was something niggling at the back of her brain. Something important. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch, it irritated her. She could almost remember but the next second it slipped away. It was totally forgotten as he tightened his grip around her and his lips grazed the side of her neck.

  His mouth was warm and supple against her skin. Tingles skated down her neck and spread out over her breasts. Her nipples puckered, aching to be touched.

  Sighing, Aimee sank deeper into his embrace, feeling safe and not so alone for the first time in years. He was so warm, his skin almost hot next to hers. He was…naked. And so was she.

  The sensation jolted her. She always wore a nightgown to bed.

  Just a dream,” she whispered to herself. It didn’t matter that both of them were totally bare. It wasn’t often she had a good dream, so she needed to enjoy this one to the max.

  What if it wasn’t a dream? Tension crept up her spine, disturbing her sense of contentment and bringing with it a sense of growing unease.

  Of course it’s a dream, she assured herself. It had to be. The only man who’d been near her bed in about a decade was the one in her dream. And even he’d never quite made it into the darn thing.

  Still, she knew she would never fully relax if she didn’t test her theory and find out for certain. If this was a dream, she’d be able to open her eyes and he would still be here. Carefully, she turned her head toward him and cracked one eye open. Although it was still night, dawn was breaking in the east, and the pale light illuminated the rather large man in bed with her. When he didn’t disappear, she opened her other eye.

  Yup, it was the same man from her previous dream, and he was even more handsome than she remembered. Even half asleep, his features appeared harsh and unforgiving. Tough was the word that described him best. His forehead was wide, his cheekbones high. His nose was broad, yet somehow suited his face. His eyes were closed, emphasizing the long, black lashes that fanned against his cheeks. They should have softened his face, but somehow they just served to call attention to his masculinity even more.

  Thick, soft hair tumbled down his shoulders. Unable to resist, she reached out her hand and stroked her fingers through it. It was incredibly soft, the texture different from any other hair she’d ever touched. It felt almost fluffy, like fur. The light parts weren’t blond, but white. And running through it were thin stripes of black. He had the most amazing hair color.

  As she continued to stroke his hair, a rumble of pleasure rose from deep in his chest. She felt the vibration against her skin and it warmed her from head to toe. It sounded almost like a purr. She grinned. She didn’t think he’d appreciate being compared to a giant housecat. No, not a housecat—that was much too tame for a man as elemental as this one. He’d be wild, like a giant lion or maybe even a tiger.

  She felt a connection to the stranger, felt surprisingly safe with him. But of course, in the end, he was nothing but a figment of her very impressive imagination. She barely stifled a giggle. She felt almost punch-drunk. Well, it was her dream. She could feel any way she wanted to.

  Satisfied with her assessment, Aimee continued her perusal. The quilt was tucked around his waist, leaving his impossibly wide chest and shoulders bare. She slid her fingers over the thick cords of his neck down to his immense shoulders.

  Continuing her journey, she traced her fingers over his massive biceps. An intricate band was tattooed around it. Aimee had never seen anything like it. The ink was vibrant and it seemed to be ancient writing of some sort, rather than just a symbol.

  She peered up at him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing even and deep.

  Emboldened, she shifted again so that she was resting on her side. The perfect specimen of manhood beside her conveniently rolled onto his back, giving her unrestricted access to him. A quick glance reassured her that his eyes were still closed.

  He released a slow sigh and his breathing steadied. She waited a moment or two, but thankfully, he seemed to drift back to sleep. Which was fine with her. It gave her the opportunity to explore the bounty laid out before her. Bands of muscle corrugated his torso. She’d never seen a man so ripped, not even in magazines or on television. Yet he wasn’t muscle-bound.

  Reaching out, she tentatively touched his chest. Sleek, supple muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as he shifted and settled himself more comfortably against the mattress. Aimee paused in her exploration, waiting until he was still once more.

  He was so warm he was almost hot. Aimee flattened her palm against his chest and felt the heavy thud of his heart beating against it. A light dusting of black hair covered his torso before angling downward and disappearing beneath the quilt. It was almost exactly like the hair on his head—smooth and silky. It was ridiculous just how soft his hair was, especially when compared to the rest of him.

  Aimee slipped her fingers down the center of his chest and circled his bellybutton. The quilt shifted and something nudged her hand. She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. He was aroused. There was no mistaking the hard, thick bulge for anything else.

  The truth will set her free…or get her killed.

  Alexandra’s Legacy

  © 2009 N.J. Walters

  Alexandra Riley’s day starts out like any other in her normal, predictable world. Then a tall, dark stranger bursts into her father’s garage and shatters the illusion. In one shocking moment, she discovers why she’s been feeling hot, restless—she’s the half-breed daughter of a legendary werewolf and is a much-sought-after prize.

  Joshua Striker, enforcer in charge of protecting the alphas of the Wolf Creek pack, has come to take Alex home. Nothing more, nothing less. From the first moment he sees her, she becomes the one thing he can’t afford—a distraction from his duty. A weakness he doesn’t want—but can’t resist needing.

  If only keeping her safe was as simple as fending off males on the hunt for a mate. Through city streets to the mountains of North Carolina, Alex and Joshua have to evade those who don’t want their pure bloodlines tainted with human DNA, as well as bounty hunters who think the only good werewolf is a dead one.

  What Joshua and Alex can’t outrun is the passion that flares between them—or the choice Alex must eventually face. Whether to claim her inner wolf, or forfeit her chance to claim Joshua as her own.

  Warning: This book contains sexy werewolves, rogue werewolves, nasty bounty hunters, a mysterious vampire and plenty of hot sexual interludes that will raise your blood pressure.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Alexandra’s Legacy:

  Joshua Striker’s heart was pounding, although outwardly none of his excitement or agitation showed. He’d found her. It hadn’t been easy, but he’d managed to stay one step ahead of the two roving packs of wolves searching for her. She was a treasure and they all wanted her.

  He could barely see her now, blocked by the bulk of her father’s body. But the one glimpse he’d had of her had been more than enough to fire his blood. He could almost feel her long, slender body bucking beneath his as he thrust hard and deep. He wanted to fuck her until she was screaming with pleasure, until they were both sweaty and spent. And then he’d do it all over again.

  His cock swelled in anticipation, pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. A fine sheen of sweat formed on his skin, making it itch. His scalp tingled, his muscles tightened. He shook his head to clear away the haze of lust enveloping him. Now was definitely not the time for this. Hi
s job was to protect her, not to claim her.

  The man in front of him issued another low growl. James LeVeau, or rather James Riley as he called himself now, had disappeared from the Wolf Creek pack of werewolves in North Carolina almost fifty years ago. At the time he’d been the alpha of the pack, the toughest and smartest one of them all. After his beloved wife, Leda, had died in childbirth, he’d simply vanished.

  There had been plenty of rumors over the years. The most intriguing one was that he’d had a child with a human, a daughter. Now they all knew the rumor was true and she was a prospective mate for many of the single male wolves.

  The past hundred years had not been kind to the werewolves and their numbers were dwindling at an alarming rate. The past three decades had been even worse. Children were far and few between, as were females of mating age.

  Personally, Joshua felt that had more to do with all the infighting between packs, but the reality remained that they needed children to expand their population. The fact that she was the daughter of one of the most powerful, most well-respected wolves in the country was a bonus. Whoever she mated with would immediately gain in status and standing.

  “I come from Wolf Creek. Ian sent me.”

  That gave the older man pause, but he didn’t back down or relax his stance. “Who are you?”

  “Striker.” James blinked, but gave no other indication of what he was thinking. Joshua admired the other man’s self-possession.

  “Last I heard Miguel was Striker of the Wolf Creek pack.”

  “He was my father.” It still hurt for Joshua to think of his father. The large man had seemed invincible to his sons, but death had claimed him all the same.

  “Was?” The very stillness of the other man assured Joshua that he was ready to spring and fight at any second.

  “It took four rogue wolves and several humans to bring him down.” He wanted to tip back his head and howl with the sorrow that was his constant companion. Instead, Joshua swallowed, refusing to show any of the emotion beating at him. “He was searching for you.”

  “You’re young Joshua.” James’ eyes narrowed as they raked over the younger man.

  “I was. Now I am Striker of the Wolf Creek pack.” Striker was more than just their name, it was his family’s duty within the pack. The head of the Striker family was in charge of pack security, of protecting the alpha pair and the pack as a whole. That duty had fallen to him and he would not fail, no matter the cost.

  “I am sorry to hear about your father. He was the best of us.” Joshua could not mistake the sincerity and the sorrow in James’ voice. “I missed him.”

  “Why did you never contact him?” The biting question was past his lips before he could restrain it. Joshua was angry with himself for letting his emotion show. It was a weakness he could not afford.

  “It was not safe. I had too much to lose.” James shook his head. “In those days they would not have accepted my child. She was not of pure blood.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Times have changed in the past few decades, have they not? Back then, they might have killed her, now they want to claim her.” His features hardened and the alpha warrior was revealed. “I will do whatever it takes to protect her.”

  “Dad?” Her low, lilting voice washed over Joshua like a physical caress, making it hard for him to breathe. “What’s this all about? Who is this guy?” He could hear the uncertainty, the question in her voice as she stepped out from behind her father.

  James reached out his hand and wrapped it around her shoulder, pulling her beneath the shelter of his arm. “This is part of what I needed to speak to you about.” His gaze never left Joshua’s face. “Lock the door and come upstairs. We have to talk.”

  Joshua turned away from the pair, purposely leaving his back exposed. Taking his time, he threw all six bolts on the door. When he was done, he faced them and cocked his eyebrow in question. The older man motioned to a doorway at the far end of the garage.

  He strode past them, trying not to stare at the woman. He didn’t know her name, but he knew that he wanted her. Something about her reached deep inside him, demanding that he claim her as his own. With his preternatural sense of smell, he caught a faint whiff of her scent and almost moaned. She was close to coming into heat, but not quite there yet. At the moment, it was just the faintest tantalizing perfume that made his head spin and sent lust surging through his bloodstream. Layered over that was the clean scent of woman, her own personal fragrance. It was fresh, like the mountain wildflowers after a summer’s rain.

  And he was obviously losing his mind if he was waxing poetic when there was a pissed off alpha at his back and danger surrounding them all. If he didn’t keep his mind on business, he’d never live long enough to have a chance to claim his woman.

  And she was his. She just didn’t know it yet.

  Mark of the Bear

  N.J. Walters

  When the devil wants a deal, there’s no bowing out gracefully.

  Hades’ Carnival, Book 2

  At twenty-nine, Hollywood scream queen Kellsie Morris is acutely aware the clock is ticking on her career. Luckily, the one big role she needs to pad her retirement fund has just come through—the story of an immortal, shape-shifting warrior trapped in a carnival run by the Devil’s minions.

  When Kellsie arrives on set, she can’t resist climbing aboard an amazingly realistic carousel bear—and finds herself flung into a world where the horror is real. As real as the heat radiating off the half-naked hunk in her arms.

  Marko has waited an eternity for the chance to free his goddess, the Lady of the Beasts, and his fellow warriors from an ancient curse. But once he lays eyes on Kellsie, he knows to the bottom of his soul that his purpose is to protect her life.

  But in this hellish game, it’s the Devil’s move. And there’s no predicting when and where the final, brutal stroke will fall—and which lover will pay the ultimate price.

  Warning: This book contains a heroine who’s a screamer—in and out of bed—and a warrior who gives a whole new meaning to “method”. After reading, please use caution when standing up. Your knees may be weak.

  eBooks are not transferable.

  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  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

  Mark of the Bear

  Copyright © 2013 by N.J. Walters

  ISBN: 978-1-61921-435-4

  Edited by Heidi Moore

  Cover by Kanaxa

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2013

  www.samhainpublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Spell of the Lady of the Beasts

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

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