by Hettie Ivers
“Wow. So he’s gone rogue now?” I said with a wry, embittered chuckle. “Irony of ironies.”
“Don’t know. From what Mike tells me, it sounds as if he might just be going off the rails. He’s attacked the last three guys that this coed had dates with. Attacked them in wolf form,” Raul appended meaningfully with a raised brow. “All three of the guys survived, but ended up transferring to other schools. And he’s been remaining in his wolf form for longer and longer stretches at a time to the point that he’s in wolf form more than he is his human form.”
Fascinating. I recalled the version of Kai I’d witnessed in the Hoia Baciu Forest. Perhaps he was reverting to his feral nature—but why? What vision had he seen from this coed’s mind, I wondered?
I tapped my fingernails against the rim of my ceramic mug. “What do you suppose all this bizarre behavior means? Has Mike gotten inside the coed’s head to see whether she’s the next great seer?”
“He has been in her head. And he says he’s not positive. He says she has abilities, but she seems clueless—or confused—by them for the most part. She largely just ignores her dreams and visions. And even the spirit voices that she hears—pretending not to hear them the greater percentage of the time.”
“Huh. Can’t blame her. Probably how I’d handle it.”
Raul chuckled. “Right. Says the one who connected with a lost-looking dark soul in the ether and came back to life with it in her womb.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “So, does Mike think Kai’s interest in this potential seer could be personal? Or does he think it’s something that Kai has seen in her mind that’s freaked him out?”
“It’s well out of character for Kai to take a personal interest in any woman, but yes, that’s exactly what Mike thinks might be happening. Or maybe a bit of both.”
The next great seer’s visions of the Rogue’s future impact on our world were critical. And whatever the visions were, Raul and I knew we had to stay one step ahead of the game in order to manipulate how those visions were interpreted and spread throughout our supernatural society.
And if we couldn’t manipulate them, we were going to start slaying some seers.
“Feel like taking a trip to America to check it out?” Raul asked.
I nodded. “Ready whenever you are.”
He grinned and extended his fist. I bumped it with my free one as I took another sip of my coffee.
I had a special bone to pick with Killjoy Kai. And by “bone to pick,” I meant that I had a personal interest in breaking every last bone in his werelock body, ripping his heart out, and dancing on his grave.
“Hey, who’s up for watching Frozen again?” Chaos shouted excitedly from the living room.
“Oooh! Me, me, me!” I hollered back as Raul groaned quietly at my side. I turned to him and amended my earlier reply. “But let’s leave after we watch Frozen again, okay?”
THE END
(For now)
Coming Next …
SEER
Werelock Evolution, Book 5
Lauren’s life goals are simple: Finish her college degree and marry a nice Jewish doctor. (Accomplishing both will hopefully get her nagging mother off her back at long last.)
It becomes difficult to focus on studies, though, when a mysterious, gorgeous stranger starts showing up around every corner of campus and disturbing Lauren’s staid routine.
It becomes equally challenging to get a date when all of Lauren’s recent ones have reportedly been attacked by wolves.
Renowned for being the “pack priest,” the dark and enigmatic Reinoso pack doctor, Kai, hasn’t been with a woman in over a century, and he has no plans to change that. He’d much prefer to wallow in solitary self-loathing for all eternity—to punish himself for the mistakes of his past.
While on a mission to find the next great seer, Kai never expected to become distracted by a sexy, feisty coed to the point of obsession.
He certainly never intended to stalk her … or to let his wolf scare off all her dates … or to break his century-long celibacy with her in a dirty alley behind a campus bar.
And he definitely never expected her to be the next great seer that the werewolf world has been searching for.
Excerpt from SEER
(Werelock Evolution, Book 5)
Annnd … more awkward silence.
“What’s your major?” he finally shouted across the small table at me.
“Sociology,” I shouted back. This earned me a frown. “What?”
He shook his head, mouthing what looked like, “Nothing.” Then he glanced away, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. He seemed disappointed. Or … annoyed.
“What?” I repeated, eliciting a shrug as he returned his attention to me.
“That’s a fairly worthless major, don’t you think?” he announced in a voice loud enough to carry.
Assuming he was razzing me, I busted out laughing. Until I realized that he wasn’t smiling or laughing along with me—he was serious. Seriously insulting my choice of a major. My expression straightened along with my spine.
Superiority complex. Check. Douchebag. Check.
“What was your major?” I countered. “Back in the olden days when you went to school?”
“Medicine,” he answered, stone-faced. “I’m a physician.”
Hot as hell. Check. No sense of humor. Triple check.
And fail.
“Well, congratulations to you,” I said, saluting him with my shot glass, “on your worthy choice of major and profession.” Upon downing the cheap liquid courage, I set the empty glass onto the table, smiled, and slowly, very sensuously licked my lips at him. “So nice to have met you. Doctor.”
I dropped the word “doctor” like I was saying “asshole.” I could only hope his humor-impaired intelligence was superior enough to catch the distinction.
I’d already sashayed my heart-shaped hiney halfway back to the bar before I felt someone take hold of my elbow and steer me in a different direction. I didn’t have to look to know that it was him—my hot campus stalker-slash-doctor who thought I had a dumb major.
“Dude, what is your problem?” I grumbled, allowing him to guide me through the throng of dancing bodies toward the rear of the crowded club.
He couldn’t have heard me anyway, it was so damned noisy in there, so I proceeded to bitch aloud for my own gratification, “You’re the one with less than zero social skills who’s been following me around campus, spying from the shadows and leering at me like some hot, older James Bond on a foreign affairs mission to fuck my brains out. Well, trust me, Dr. I’m-too-good-for-the-dumb-college-girl-I’m-stalking, you could stand to take a course or two in the social sciences.”
Bond barked something at the two bouncers blocking the rear exit as we approached, and oddly, they stepped aside. “Close the door and allow no one to come out this way after us, understand?” Dr. Bossypants further decreed as he led me through the back door and into the dark alley behind the club.
“My problem”—he rounded on me once the metal back door had shut with a heavy thud, silencing the noise of the club—“is that you insist upon wearing clothing that is too short and too tight.”
“Oh … Em … Gee.” I jerked my elbow from his grasp. “You did not just say that to me.”
“My problem,” he continued, stepping right up into my personal space, “is that your ass in that pencil skirt makes me want to drop to my knees and thank God for finally creating a perfection worth sinking my teeth into.”
Uh …
Wha—?
I backed up a step, reclaiming my personal space and praying that my eroding equilibrium would follow suit. He stepped closer, stealing it right back.
“My problem is that just looking at your face gets me hard. So hard I’m afraid I’ll come in my pants like a horny teenager if I stare for too long.”
Oh.
Wow.
“My problem,” he told me in a matter-of-fact tone of voice as he procee
ded to back me up into the brick wall of the building we’d just exited, “is that none of this should even be happening. I never should’ve noticed you or your luscious round ass and angel face and perfectly formed tits”—he slammed his fist against the brick wall behind me—“with the perfectly diabolical nipples that are constantly, constantly fucking hard, in the first place.”
“Did you just call my nipples … diabolical?” I asked in a strange, breathy voice that came out as sultry as the molten inferno his words had ignited in my sex.
“Yes.” He reached for the buckle of his pants.
My eyes tracked the movement and saw that he was so not kidding about the “hard” part of his rant. And judging from the way his monster tool appeared about ready to Hulk-rip through the front of his slacks, it seemed I’d just hit the penis jackpot. No part of him was touching me, but he was standing so close, I swore I could feel the heat emanating off of that big cock—warming the butterflies scattering in my lower belly through the fabric of my high-waisted skirt.
“My problem … is that I’m about to fuck you in a dirty alley, unless you set a clear boundary right now and tell me to stop.”
My clitoris began throbbing so rapidly at his ultimatum that I was certain had there been more light in the alleyway, its fluttering would’ve actually been visible against the front of my tight skirt.
“Fuck no, I am not stopping this,” I blurted.
I saw his eyes momentarily widen and his lips part in the dim light of the alley.
“Fine, then. But understand that I am not calling you tomorrow,” he warned, abandoning his belt to reach for the hem of my skirt.
“Damn straight you aren’t.” I gasped as he pulled the hem of my skirt clear to my waist and simultaneously spun me around to face the brick wall. “Because I’m not giving you my number.”
I yelped when his palm connected sharply with my now very exposed, thong-clad ass. “Brat. You would give me your number, and you know it,” he scolded in my ear, squeezing my smarting ass cheek in his hand.
I meant to groan an “Oww,” but somehow it came out as “Ohh” instead. This seemed to irritate him further, because it earned my other cheek a smack.
“Cut it out or I’m gonna come in this alley before you even get that hulking cock of yours inside of me,” I complained.
That did it.
My panties were shredded straight off of me, and his hands were suddenly groping me everywhere at once, so fast it made my already-dizzy-with-lust head spin. I made a noise that sounded something like a cat getting strangled when both of his hands attacked my soaking core—his fingers scrambling to penetrate me like they were starving to get inside.
“You’re going to feel me for days,” he threatened, pressing his naked, hard length up against my ass as he thrust several fingers inside of me.
“Bring it,” I managed to rasp.
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And After That …
JUST LIKE ANIMALS
Werelock Evolution, Book 6
Bloody hell, I’d bitten her!
She spun around to face me, her hand clutching the side of her neck. Pink hit her cheeks the moment her startled eyes met mine, and she gasped. “Holy baby Jesus in a filthy fucking manger.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, my lips twitched helplessly at her outburst. “I’m so sorry”—I cleared my throat to keep from laughing—“I don’t know what came over me, Bethany.”
“Raul. Wow. Wow, oh, wow.” She shook her head continuously, staring as if she couldn’t fathom that it was me. “Holy shit. Oh, my God. Oh, my Gawwwd. Wow. I didn’t know you were you … and you … didn’t know that I was me,” she explained it aloud to herself. “I mean—obviously. Because I never would’ve—and you never would’ve—I mean—we, we never would’ve …”
Damn. She was cute all flustered, gesticulating wildly with her hands as she rambled on.
“I’m sure what you experienced was a moment of shock. Panic? Exactly,” she confirmed to herself. “Panic. It was reflexive. Instinctual. A PTSD response. Yes.” She snapped her fingers as if she’d found the explanation for it all. “I read about how this happens to individuals who are orally fixated. I read it in a medical journal somewhere. I think. God, I don’t normally get myself off on strangers’ hands … in uh … ahhm … pub”—she trailed off as she watched me suck my fingers into my mouth, tasting her—“lic.”
Fuck me. That taste. Definitely not letting her go. I hummed and nodded. Her jaw fell open. I took advantage of the opportunity, pulling my fingers from my mouth and slipping them into hers before she could object. I used her moment of stunned inaction to lower my head closer to her shoulder and assess the damage I’d done to her neck, whispering, “You taste delicious, Bethy,” next to her ear on the way down.
I was no expert in mating bond bites by any stretch, but her neck didn’t appear to be as bad off as I’d initially feared when I’d tasted her blood in my mouth. Certainly not the way I imagined a mating bond bite would look. Huh. Maybe it hadn’t been deep enough to be damaging or significant? Somehow I felt disappointment at this rather than relief. I was sick.
I licked over her broken skin a few times, partially healing it with my saliva. Then I kissed the spot. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” I pulled back to look at her. “You were just so hot. I got carried away.”
Her eyes were dazed, her pupils wide. Her lips had closed over my fingers. When her tongue moved tentatively against them, I feared I might bust a nut in my pants. I vowed that I would come in her mouth before the night was through.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have a hickey for a few days,” I advised.
Or a few weeks. Or maybe a lifetime? Best guess was one of the three.
Her hand reached up and lightly grasped my wrist. Slowly, she pulled my fingers from her mouth, giving them a timid, parting suck as they passed between her plump lips. I was absolutely coming in her mouth before the night was through.
“It’s late. I should go.”
Hell to the no. “Of course. I understand. But maybe you could buy me a drink first? So I don’t go home feeling cheap and used.”
Her eyes widened and she turned so red I thought she might pass out.
“Kidding, Bethy.” I held up both palms. “A joke to lighten the mood. But I am serious that we should have a drink and catch up a bit.”
She looked unsure. And entirely too sober all of the sudden. I couldn’t have her overthinking this.
“Look, if we try and ignore what just happened, it’ll only be more awkward the next time we run into each other, don’t you think?” I reasoned. “C’mon, we’re old friends. We can handle this like two responsible adults, can’t we?”
“Hi, Bethany’s friend,” a slurred female voice broke in, bringing too much perfume with her into our personal space. Great.
I endured introductions to several tipsy girlfriends. To my annoyance, Bethany introduced me as her “best friend’s brother” every time. It shouldn’t have bothered me. It’s what I was to her. It’s what I would always be to her.
Unless I’d bitten her too hard.
We got drinks and found a quieter spot tucked away from the dance floor. She was still flustered, but she put up a good front, plastered on a bright smile, and proceeded to catch me up on her life, confirming mostly facts that I already knew.
“So I’m finishing my residency, and I’ll be opening my own gynecology practice next year.”
“That’s amazing. Congratulations.” The reminder that she stuck her fingers inside of other women’s pussies for a living wasn’t helpful when I was still struggling to get my mind off of hers.
“I adopted a rescue puppy last week, I’m getting married in three months, and I just couldn’t be happier,” she concluded.
“Wonderful. Where’s the fiancé tonight?”
“Who?”
“Your fiancé.” My eyes slid to the giant princess cut diamond on her finger in indication.
I frowned. Nodded. “There more than one?”
She broke into high-pitched, nervous laughter. “No, no, it’s just the one,” she confirmed, punching me playfully in the arm. “God, you were always so funny.” She sighed and took a sip of her drink. Then she took another sip that turned into a chug as she downed the remains of the glass.
“Gregg’s cheating on me,” she announced with the next release of air that escaped her. “Not that it’s an excuse for me using your hand to masturbate myself on a dance floor or anything.”
“I see.” They were the only words I managed as conflicting emotions and a million thoughts jumbled through me. How hard had I really bitten her? Could I get away with killing Gregg without upsetting her? Would I be able to resist biting her again if she continued to make reference to coming on my hand?
“It’s just—you were touching my breasts,” she continued in a rush. “And I’m really into nipple play, and your hands felt so good on me that I had this mad impulse to come on them. And I always preach that women should follow their sexual instincts. So I did. Would you excuse me a moment?” She didn’t wait for my reply before jumping up from her seat and bolting in the direction of the bathroom.
Jesus. She was the same Bethany I remembered. Adorably quirky. Strong-willed. Unconventional. Sexy as hell.
And I was fucking her tonight. Off-limits be damned.
Thank you for reading No Light (Werelock Evolution, Book 4). If you enjoyed reading this story, I hope that you will consider leaving a few words in a review to help other readers discover it. Every review is very much appreciated!