Alphas of Summer: A collection of shifter romances

by Lia Davis

  With a deep breath to keep her boldness burning, she knelt in front of him. She wanted this. There was no voice in the back of her mind screaming that this was wrong. Every cell in her body was cheering go girl as she stroked him lightly. His hands rested on his thighs, his fingers rhythmically clenching and releasing as she eased closer to him.

  She wanted him to groan and beg for her. Situated neatly between his knees, she dipped her head to take him into her mouth. He let out a shuddering breath as her lips closed around him. “Violet,” he whispered.

  She worked the length of him, then withdrew. Her tongue darted out to taste the glistening skin before she glanced up to him and asked, “Do you want me to stop?”

  “God, no,” he said, jumping slightly at the teasing touch of her tongue. His lips parted as she took him in again, moving her head in a slow, insistent rhythm. He murmured quietly in his native language, and she took it as a sign that she was doing well. With a long, languorous motion, she licked the underside of him, tracing the vein. “Please,” he said quietly, his hips twitching toward her.

  “Since you asked so nicely,” she said. Easing her jaw to take him fully, she continued to work him. His breath quickened, and she let her free hand rest on his smooth stomach, relishing the quickening rhythm that signaled his pleasure.

  He inhaled sharply. “Violet, I—”

  “Hmm,” she murmured around him. His hips thrust forward suddenly. She withdrew her head slightly, letting the warmth spill over her tongue. Discreetly, she got up and hurried to the bathroom. After rinsing her mouth, she checked her appearance. Her hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared, but she didn’t care. There was a smile on her face she couldn’t smooth out.

  When she returned, he had pulled the scarf from his eyes. She was about to put herself back in his lap for a kiss, but he stood and caught her by the waist. In a graceful half-turn he guided her back toward the couch. When her legs bumped the cushion, she sat down abruptly. His eyes were ravenous as he looked down at her. A shiver trickled through her as he knelt in front of her. With his size, he was still nearly as tall as she was sitting down. Her heart raced as he rested his hands on her knees. Pressure mounted as he moved upward, veering inward until he reached the button on her jeans. He grunted in frustration at the tight pants, but she wiggled out of them, and he tossed them away into a pile on the floor. A trail of fire ignited along her stomach as his callused fingers traced the lacy trim on her panties. Then he slipped his hands inside and yanked them away.

  A nervous thrill ran down her spine as she sat in front of him, exposed. His fingers traced her hipbones and slowly found the soft place between her legs. After lazily tracing the warm wetness with a single finger, he paused. She shivered as he looked up and said, “May I?”

  “You may.” No sooner had the words escaped her lips when he darted forward and covered her with his mouth, sending an electric shock through her. His tongue worked relentlessly as his hands stroked the sensitive skin on her thighs. Heat pooled between her legs. His fingers moved from her thigh to the delicate entrance, circling slowly before slipping inside. “Oh my God,” she murmured, shifting toward him. One of his hands eased under her back, moving her toward him so he had easier access. Her hands rested on his powerful shoulders.

  The sensations overwhelmed her as waves of heat rushed through her body. An electric tingle radiated from his hands, making her muscles quiver as the waves began to crest. He teased her, bringing her close to the edge before breaking away to kiss the inside of her thigh, her hip, her stomach, everywhere but the burning hot center. Just as the tension would ease slightly, he would take a breath and return that wicked tongue to its business. She gasped as his fingers explored her, working in tandem with his deft tongue.

  Her hands clenched his muscular shoulders as a lightning bolt shot through her, from her belly to the very tips of her curling toes. The waves of pleasure converged, crashing into her all at once and lifting her. She let out a choked cry as her body tensed and her back curved away from the soft cushions.

  It took a moment for the world to return to her. When it did, there was still a slow, almost maddening sensation as his fingers teased at her. Her nerve endings were on fire, and his touch sent tiny shockwaves through her.

  “Are you pleased?” Pahlin asked her, kissing the inside of her thigh. He lifted his eyes.

  “Yeah,” she murmured. “I am very pleased.”

  He smiled, then stood without warning and scooped her into his arms like she weighed nothing. “Would you allow me to please you again?”

  It was a good thing he was carrying her, because her legs were still shaking. “Mmhmm,” she said, pointing down the hallway. “That way.”

  One Month Later

  Pahlin swept the sweat from his brow as he jumped down from the scaffolding to the hard-packed red dirt below. Imani hadn’t been joking about the brutal Georgia summer. The humidity was a force of nature, coating him in sweat as soon as he walked outside each day. His head pounded from the heat as sweat trickled down his back and into his dirt-streaked jeans. Still, it was satisfying to watch the wooden skeleton of the house slowly form, and he found an unexpected serenity in the effort of carrying lumber, methodically nailing it into place, and repeating the process until someone told him to stop. He could see the fruits of his labors each day, and he went home with no injuries other than the occasional banged thumb or sunburn.

  And then there was the fact that Violet got no small amount of enjoyment out of massaging his shoulders and back, which often led to other, even more pleasurable pursuits. As had become his routine, he would stop by her place for his lunch break.

  After their first date, they had spent a number of evenings together. At first, Pahlin had told himself it was no different than the physical relationship he’d had with Midzira before leaving home. They were both enjoying themselves, and there was no harm in it. But it had only taken him a few days to realize that it wasn’t the same at all.

  Pahlin left the construction site and jogged to the small motorcycle parked just down the street. He’d considered a car, but the bike was considerably cheaper. Besides, riding down the road with the wind blowing in his face gave him the sense of flying that he missed. After securing his helmet, he pulled onto the road and headed for Violet’s house.

  How quickly the woman had changed him. He didn’t know what the future held, but he was no longer dreading his years in the human realm. And to his surprise, he’d begun to refer to his small house as home.

  As much as he enjoyed taking Violet to bed, he equally enjoyed simply listening to her speak, learning about the richness of her life. She seemed to enjoy hearing about his homeland, and he’d all but ignored the admonition to keep everything secret. In exchange for teaching her a handful of curse words in his native tongue, she’d taught him plenty of English slang. And when he got self-conscious about not knowing a word or pronouncing something strangely, she reassured him by telling him, “Your accent is sexy.”

  Every chance she got, she was taking him somewhere in the city to try new food or see some technological marvel. Just last week, she’d taken him to a bustling market downtown, where she dragged him from shop to shop sampling food. As she proclaimed her opinion on each one, he found himself entranced. Clear as a bell, the thought had struck him. This is why I came here. He had never truly cared for the minutiae of someone’s life, but he could have listened to Violet enthuse about food and wine all day. The human world had much to teach him, after all.

  When he arrived at the modest townhouse, he knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. After knocking again, he frowned and took out his phone. She’d probably guessed he was coming, and had sent him a text.

  Violet: If you come by today, I’m out at the pool – come join me : )

  He grinned and climbed back on his bike, then drove around the loop of the small neighborhood to the community pool. When he walked up to the chest-high fence, he had a prime view of her. She was
sitting on a lounge chair, her gorgeous curves encased in a black swimsuit. A wide-brimmed black hat covered her hair and shielded her face.

  After checking to make sure no one would scold him, he jumped over the fence and crept up on her. Her breathing was slow and even. Holding his breath as he leaned over, he lightly ran one finger up her leg.

  She gasped and jerked away from him. “Shit!” she swore, yanking off her sunglasses as she stared at him in surprise. “I fell asleep.” As an afterthought, she smiled. “Hi, there.”

  He perched on the edge of her chair. “Hi,” he said. She leaned in and kissed him, making him self-conscious about the sweat plastering his shirt to his back. “I am very sweaty.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said, her hand resting on his chest. “You smell manly.” After adjusting her sunglasses, she leaned over to rifle through a bag lined with reflective material. She pulled out a square plastic container and handed it to him.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing her cheek again before opening it. The container was filled with a fragrant meal of chicken, vegetables, and rice. She said it was Mediterranean, and while Pahlin wasn’t sure what that meant, he knew he liked it. It reminded him of the food of his homeland. After he had the meal in his lap, she handed him a bottle of water from the bag. After cracking it open and taking a long, refreshing drink, he paused and smiled at her. “It occurs to me that I made the right choice coming here.”

  “Today? I don’t know, it’s hot as hell. We should go inside where there’s air conditioning.”

  He laughed and bumped her leg with his. “I mean here. To this world,” he said. “I am not deserving of such a good soul.”

  “Well, you are pretty lucky,” she said, raising her eyebrow at him.

  He laughed. “I am serious.”

  “So am I. I’m a catch,” she replied. But her smile softened as she touched his arm lightly. “I’m glad you’re here, too. And I’m happy you’re mine.”

  “You think I’m yours?”

  Her smile evaporated. “Is that weird?”

  He shook his head. “I like that idea,” he said. “You are my adan-serahl.”

  “The who?”

  “It means a very special person. The one who fills your thoughts when you wake up. You are mine. And I love you.” The words spilled over his tongue before he could catch them. They surprised him, but hearing them aloud confirmed their truth.

  Her eyes went wide. “I—I love you, too.”

  He set aside his lunch and leaned over her, resting his hand on her hip. It was by her side that he had found the place he belonged. And so long as she would have him, he would not waste a single opportunity to show his affection and gratitude. “May I?”

  She smiled as he leaned in for a kiss. “You may.”

  What Now?

  I hope you enjoyed this taste of the dangerous, exciting world of the Dragons of Ascavar! Pahlin and Violet’s story is just one in a continuing series. I’d love for you to find out more and enjoy some of the other stories in the series.

  Dragons of Ascavar Reading Order

  0.5 – Midnight Flight

  1 – Wings of Stone

  You can subscribe to my mailing list to receive your free copy of MIDNIGHT FLIGHT, a novella set in the Ascavar universe. I’ll also let you know about upcoming releases and special giveaways!

  About the Author

  J.D. Monroe is a Georgia-based author with a love for all things paranormal, magical, and downright fantastical. She has not given up on the dream of riding a dragon someday. She is the author of the Hell’s Belles series and the fantasy romance series, Dragons of Ascavar.

  Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/cJT8Kv

  www.jdmonroe.com

  Lone Enforcer

  Jessica Aspen

  Chapter 1

  Natalie pushed her aching thighs faster as she hiked up the side of the mountain, following the trail that the Colorado State Park map called, “High-ho”. The day was hot. The afternoon sun was bright. And even though she was at a much higher altitude than Denver and the breeze should be cooling her off, her temper and the climb had her sweating.

  Her head of steam hadn’t dissipated one bit since her noon-time trip to the local police of Wolf’s Peak, Colorado, population just over two thousand.

  “Stupid sheriff. Thinks he knows everything. Thinks I don’t know he’s hiding something. Thinks that, just because I’m not important, or a local, he can blow me off. Well I’ll show him!”

  She was used to the authorities not listening to her and trying to ignore her. She was used to having to speak louder to be heard. She was even used to spending hours working to get what she wanted—no one who had grown up in the foster system left it without learning a few skills.

  But what she wasn’t used to was the absolute shut-down that had happened at this podunk police department, where the police officer receptionist was also the head coffee brewer and dispatcher, and because she wasn’t a local, everyone had stared at her as if she had two heads.

  The trail she was following paralleled a barbed wire fence nearly littered with NO TRESPASSING signs, but neither the trail or the fence were important. They were only a ways to a means. No, the important things were the GPS coordinates that Yvette had sent her in her very last text.

  Yvette.

  Tears clouded Natalie’s eyes and she stopped, pulled off her backpack and dug out her water bottle from her pack.

  She and Yvette had found each other in that last foster home, the Clarks. It wasn’t bad, for a foster home. Sally Clark was decent, she tried. But her husband, Ned, was a grabber. The girls had kept an eye out for each other, and from the very first day Natalie had known—Yvette was going to be her friend for life.

  But now here she stood, only twenty-two years old, the hot July sun beating down on top of her head, her tears making the water hard to swallow. All because Yvette was gone.

  Dead or kidnapped, no one knew.

  But what she did know was that no one cared about a girl with no money and no connections. No one but her. And every instinct she had—honed from years of avoiding grabbers like Ned, and surviving much worse foster homes than the Clark’s—told her that the sheriff of Wolf’s Peak was hiding something.

  Why the disappearance of one young woman was worth covering up, Natalie had no idea, but it wasn’t just anyone who had disappeared over a month ago—it was Yvette. Her best friend and soul sister. And Natalie wasn’t going to let one red neck sheriff with an attitude, or a little red tape stop her.

  She’d sworn she’d find out the truth—even if it took her the rest of her life.

  She wiped her tears on the skinny shoulder of her tank top and put the water bottle back, pulling out her phone and checking her location on the geocaching app.

  About the only thing the Clarks had given her and Yvette, besides good instincts, was a love for rock-climbing and geocaching. With no money to spare and too many foster kids, taking a GPS and a picnic to the mountains for a day was cheap entertainment. They’d hike for hours, knowing that once they reached the coordinates there would be some kind of prize hidden away in a small pile of rocks.

  Sometimes someone had gotten there first and the plastic box would be empty. But then Sally Clark would pull out stickers or candy, and they’d sit around and chow down on Jolly Ranchers and Skittles and fill a baggie with some treats for the next person.

  It had been fun.

  And one of the first things both she and Yvette had sprung for, once they were out on their own and sharing their tiny Denver apartment, was a good phone and the free app that helped them discover their buried treasures.

  Natalie checked her location. She was too far north. Close, but definitely heading in the wrong direction. She pulled out the map she’d picked up at the ranger’s station and looked at the trail.

  “Shit.” “High-ho” didn’t go north at all from here. In fact it meandered south-west back into the park well away from Yvette’s last GPS coordinates. />
  Natalie stared at the vicious barbed wire fence and the grass-covered slope beyond. “Damn it, Yvette. What the hell were you into?” She thumbed back to Yvette’s last series of texts.

  Hey cutie pie! I met someone. I’m calling him, Mr. Mysterious. Gotta keep you guessing! It’s your punishment for letting me come up here by myself. He’s way too old for me, but he’s totally hot!

  And guess what? MM is into treasure too. :) We’re heading out tomorrow and I’ll let you know what we dig up. Oh, and just in case your mean old boss let’s you go, here’s the loco.

  Most geocaches were left close to public trails, but this one was apparently on the other side of the fence that every few hundred feet read NO TRESPASSING.

  Well, there was no choice. Yvette was missing and the text she’d sent had been clear, this was the way to go.

  Natalie pushed the backpack through the barbed wire and made sure her wild curly hair was safely tucked away in its band. Her brown curls were like Velcro—if there was something to stick to, she’d be stuck.

  Then she pinched the middle strand of wire to the top one, placed her sneaker on the bottom wire, and slithered through, careful not to get scraped. She’d had all her shots when she was under the government’s careful eye, but since leaving the system she hadn’t done much more than the basic yearly visit for birth control. She was sure she was due for a tetanus shot.

  Once through the fence, she put the pack back on and headed north. A few feet in she crossed another trail that ran inside the fence, but it didn’t head north, and north was where she had to go. She broke away from the trail and headed out across the rough terrain, side stepping on the hill as she hiked through tufts of summer dried grass and sharp strands of yucca.