by Anthology
Adolpho looked down at Star, who stood quietly beside him. “He’s out of his mind.”
She nodded.
“You going to take her? For the wolves?” Taj laughed. There was a nasal quality to his voice that grated on Adolpho’s nerves.
“You don’t have any rights here, pussycat. This is wolf country. Maybe things are different in other parts of the world, but Star said she doesn’t want you. You’re here on the good will of my clan, and I think you’ve used that all up.”
Taj hocked and spit, hitting Adolpho on the cheek. His blood boiled. He’d had enough. “Let him go a minute,” he said to the men.
They released Taj and stepped back. Taj grinned maniacally, jutting his chin out in a perfect target for Adolpho to rear back and smash with his broad fist. Taj’s head snapped on his neck and he flew backward, landing on his ass and tumbling into the snow—unconscious or so close to it, he’d stopped talking and moving.
Adolpho wiped his face clean with a handful of snow, spitting on the ground at the fallen man’s feet. “Get him out of here. Make sure he’s past the gates and well on his way. Filth.” He took Star’s hand, feeling her cold fingers. Her shock was apparent by her frigid stance and hollow stare.
“Are you hurt?” she asked softly.
“Just a scratch. It’s healing already. Come on. I’ll get you to the inn,” he said as he quietly led her back to town.
* * *
Star stared at the small room. Beneath the floor, she could feel the vibrations of the crowd enjoying the festivities below though the sound was muffled through the floorboards. She wasn’t sure she could sleep, given all that had happened. Adolpho stood with his back against the closed door, silent, waiting to see what she would do—expecting to be sent away. She liked him, but the fact that she needed someone’s protection and security wasn’t something she was used to.
“I should leave. I don’t belong here,” she said, facing him.
“Alpha is clearing the way for the clans to mingle. Change is good. You can stay. Stay with me if you like,” he said. He crossed his arms, looking combatant—as if he’d fight and knock aside all her refusals forever.
“No.” She shook her head, turning away so she didn’t have to look at his face when she crushed his burgeoning feelings. “I can’t ask you to make sacrifices like that for me. You don’t know me.”
“I’m staying. We’re doing this, and you’re going to change your mind if it kills me.”
The floorboards creaked, and then his hand clamped onto her arm. He whirled her around and snatched her up against his broad, hard chest. One hand curled around her waist, and the other tunneled through her hair. Raw desire darkened his eyes seconds before he tilted her back and kissed her with unrepentant lust. Her knees buckled and they went down, catching the bed instead of the floor. The mattress dipped, the small frame groaning under their combined weight, and she half feared they’d fall to the floor.
He was hungry, starved as he kissed and claimed her mouth with his tongue and lips—sucking, nibbling, and biting. The pull in her hair stung, but in a good way, forcing her to relinquish herself to his kiss. She couldn’t escape, and she didn’t really want to. He tore from her mouth to graze her jaw and neck, his tongue lapping at her pulse as he sucked a tender spot on the crook of her neck and shoulder.
She was barely settled under him when he lifted to pull her dress up, struggling with the ties and folds of fabric until he huffed in frustration.
“You get your clothes off, and I’ll take care of mine,” she said, grinning lustily at him.
He nodded, his fingers shaking as he removed his shirt and cloak. He had to leave the bed for his pants and boots, keeping his eyes glued to her like she might run. She slowly drew her dress up over her head and dropped it to the floor before returning to the bed. She reclined, crossing her legs demurely and running her gaze over his large frame.
“I like seeing all of you, Adolpho,” she purred, leaning back into the pillows and opening her arms in invitation.
“As I you. I never hoped to find someone like you,” he murmured, kneeling on the edge of the bed and prowling up her calves with his hands. “This creamy dark skin makes my mouth water. You look more delicious than any confection the world could conjure.”
She lifted a foot, resting her ankle on his shoulder. He kissed her calf, slowly moving forward and nibbling up her inner thigh until his warm breath fanned against her hidden folds and the thatch of black, coarse curls. Rough fingers parted her lips, slowly stroking up and down her swollen outer lips. She shuddered when he slid a finger inside her, ripping a gasp from her throat, and sending the mating heat flaring to unbearable levels.
“Are you trying to keep me from leaving?” she asked breathily, her pussy clenching hungrily. She struggled to maintain control but knew she was fighting a losing battle.
“I confess I can’t think beyond how slick your little pussy is and how much I need to taste you. I’m done holding back,” he growled, sinking his face to her groin like a cat lapping milk.
The hot, wet probe of his tongue inside sent her body bucking against his mouth. Her head spun. Her mind reeled as he feasted on her cream and the cries of pleasure wringing out of her throat. She was groaning and moaning and mindless with the flicks of his tongue moving between the tender edges of her hole and her swelling clit. The constant motion ignited tingles through her nerves, making her inner muscles clench and release as she reached for orgasm.
He withdrew, sensing her near closure and she screamed in frustrated fury. “I want to feel you come around me,” he ground out, settling between her dark-skinned thighs and drawing them around his hips as her upper back rested on the bed and her buttocks supported on his bent knees.
The position tilted her in a perfectly aligned angle to his throbbing cock, which was as thick and long as she’d hoped for. He grabbed her hips with his strong hands, hauling her up until their bodies joined in a fluid motion. He swelled inside her—or maybe she swelled around him—she didn’t know, didn’t care—just wanted this to last forever.
His fingers found her clit, rubbing—teasing animal sounds from deep within her. She was trapped, unable to move like she wanted. Seeing her distress, he caught her hands and brought her up until her chest crushed against his and he could kiss her again. He tasted intense, desperate and starved as she was for him—addictive and wild. She liked the sharp edges of his teeth scraping her tongue. She reveled in the possession of his calloused hands on her back and in her hair. She could lose herself in his eyes and the smell of his masculine scent and strong heartbeat.
Star moaned into his mouth, sucking his tongue with all the pent-up, lustful hunger. He groaned as she rolled her hips into his, grinding against him, pushing her own fingers down to massage her clit. The combination of his cock pumping and her own ministrations sent her careening over the edge. Tendrils of pleasure erupted, crawling through her body with warm waves up her spine and down her legs. She gasped and clung to his broad shoulders, riding him as the climax overwhelmed them both. Their strangled cries mingled with ragged breath and shuddering muscles.
Limp and weak, they fell to the bed, struggling to breathe and form coherent thought once more. Star nuzzled Adolpho’s hairy chest, listening to his heart and enjoying his arms around her. “I wish it could always be like this,” she whispered.
His stomach muscles visibly clenched though he maintained a relaxed hold of her. “Why couldn’t it?” he asked quietly.
“I’m trouble. Taj won’t let me go.”
“So you think running away out there is best for you?” he asked. “Out there alone, with no one to turn to? Maybe it’s time you stop running, and start asking for help. I love your independence, but to continue in that path is foolish. You’re smart. Think about it.”
Star worried her lip and sat up, looking at him as he lounged on the pillows. His impassive, scruffy face told her more than his words ever could—he waited for rejection. She couldn’t bri
ng herself to break his heart. When had she gotten so soft? “You want me still? After all this?”
“I want you to give this a chance. I know it’s fast. Hell, I can hardly believe it myself, gel. But you get my age, you trust instinct. Give me some time, I’ll make you fall in love with me. Hard. And often,” he said, grinning. “As often as you’ll let me.”
She smiled, looking under her lashes and faking shy. “When you put it that way, I can’t find a reason to resist.”
Adolpho reached for her hands, dragging her back on top of his body with a rumbling growl that warmed her inside and out. He cupped her jaw, staring into her eyes and rubbing his lips against hers in a tease before the kiss. “I’m prepared to fight to the end to win your heart, Star,” he murmured and kissed her with the fire and hunger of his soul.
The End
About Jaide Fox
Jaide Fox prefers reading, writing, and dreaming up imaginary alpha heroes and strange worlds to seeing sunlight and mingling with the "real" world. She likes to think venturing out into the dark gives her the allure of a vampire, but her family just thinks she's eccentric. www.jaidefoxbooks.com
In Good Spirits by Michele Bardsley
Violetta Graves, Book One
She only has a ghost of a chance to prove she didn't kill her ex-boyfriend.
When Violetta Graves is accused of her ex-boyfriend's murder, she has no choice but to use the "gift." Unfortunately, the gift is an inheritance she never wanted: the ability to see and hear spirits. Not only does she have to save her own bacon, but she's also gotta put a leash on her sister (before she kills her adulterous spouse), avoid Detective Matthew Stone (despite his hotness), and find the real killer of her ex before she ends up in jail. Or worse, dead.
1
“Your honor, this is bullshit. He knows this is bullshit.” I pointed to Enrique Santos, former asshole boyfriend. He oozed sex appeal in that white suit with an electric blue shirt and matching tie—like cotton candy, all sugary sweet—but I knew better. How could I have ever believed that curling sneer was a nibble-me smile? Hah.
“That’s the second time I’ve admonished you not to curse in my courtroom, Ms. Graves.” I looked at the judge, an old gray-haired bat with thick glasses, two chins, and a soft spot for backstabbing boyfriends. “I’m still waiting for your version of events.”
Enrique, that lyin’ lowdown scummy snake, was suing me in Las Vegas small claims court for medical expenses and compensation for emotional damages because I have good aim. Three months ago, I threw my fabulous red stiletto at his head, which caused a nasty stitches-necessary cut down his cheek and detached his ear lobe—just a little. Maybe I wasn’t that good of an aim. After all, I’d been trying to gouge out his eye.
“If he hadn’t been fu—vigorously screwing that red-headed bit—bimbo, I would not have felt compelled to throw a projectile at his head.”
After I smacked Enrique with my right heel, I took off the left with every intention of winging it toward his genitalia. Meanwhile, the bimbo got dressed and out the door in ten seconds flat and didn’t look back, even with her lover screeching in pain and cussing me in Spanish.
“You admit that you threw the object that caused permanent damage to Mr. Santos’ face?”
Okay, okay, the stitches left a scar. A light, barely-there scar that only added to his sex appeal.
My hands trembled. Five grand. That’s how much he wanted. He knew I didn’t have it. “My actions were rash,” I admitted. “I was … upset.”
“To say the least, Ms. Graves.” She looked at me. Her thin gray brows rose nearly to her hairline. “Have you nothing else to add to Mr. Santos’ story?”
“I drove him to the emergency room.”
“As well you should since you were the perpetrator.”
Oh terrific. I was a perpetrator. I squirmed, my toes doing the nervous tango in my $5 flip-flops. Thank heavens for cheap tourist souvenir shops, or I wouldn’t have any shoes to wear at all. I still missed my stilettos, but I could barely afford to feed myself or keep a roof over my head—I had only a few days left at my pay-by-the-week motel. And now there were the court costs to consider. Shoes were at the bottom of my long list of priorities. If only I hadn’t used my one good pair of designer heels as lethal weapons … oh jeez, Violetta.
“He dropped the criminal charges,” I said.
Y’see, he’d been in bed with his boss’s wife and didn’t want to draw attention to that indiscretion. It’s possible Enrique would’ve let the whole shoe-at-his-head thing drop if his boss hadn’t gotten an anonymous phone call about his wayward wife. He, already a suspicious sort, hired a private detective who caught the couple banging. Enrique lost his job and, because his boss had some major juice in the car-repair business, he hadn’t found another one. The only revenge left to Enrique, short of maiming or killing me, was to sue me in small claims.
And he was going to win.
“Ms. Graves, have you anything else to say?”
Numbly, I shook my head.
“I believe both parties in this matter must shoulder some blame for the incident. However, since Mr. Santos is the only one who sustained physical and fiscal damages as a result, I rule in favor of the plaintiff. Ms. Graves, you will pay Mr. Santos the sum total of five thousand dollars.”
My heart dropped to my toes. “I don’t have any money.”
“Do you have a job where you can work overtime?”
“I … uh, I just lost my job.” Last night, I was fired from the Pit, a small, dingy downtown casino where you could smoke a carton of cigarettes by just breathing the air for five minutes. I was a poorly paid cocktail waitress (thus all the unpaid bills and cheap shoes). Officially, I had been let go due to “downsizing.” The new manager, a skinny peach named Darla, fired me two days after she came aboard, and said that I needed to downsize my body. I believe her words were, “You won’t fit into the new uniform. If you want to work in this town, get a boob job for those saggy tits and lay off the Twinkies. Your ass is the size of Montana.”
“What about assets you can sell?”
I blinked at the judge. “What?”
“Her necklace. Her car. Her grandmother’s wedding dress.” Enrique grinned at me. “You never gonna be a bride, mi flor.”
Of its own violation, my middle finger rose and sent Enrique a message that required no interpretation.
“Ms. Graves!” The judge slammed her gavel onto its tiny wood square. “Mr. Santos, please refrain from gloating.”
Anger and despair crept through me, crowding my lungs until I couldn’t breathe. “My piece-of-crap car isn’t worth the gas I put in it and my mother took Grandma Rose’s dress after I left Enrique’s stupid ass.”
Mom, who was still upset that I somehow ended up with the dress she was married in, had always considered it part of her inheritance that I had stolen. She ignored the fact that my grandmother left it to me, along with five hundred dollars, and the “gift.” Mom made the five-hour drive from California to Las Vegas to help me move out from Enrique’s condo. Her idea of “helping” was to pack up the dress, hand me a hundred bucks, and leave.
The judge looked at me, a flash of empathy in her gaze. Hope fluttered anew. Maybe she’d realize how much Enrique deserved a heel to the cheek. Maybe she’d reverse her decision.
“How much is the necklace worth?” asked the judge.
Crap. My hand automatically went to the silver chain around my neck. “He can’t have it.”
“It’s been appraised for $1,500.” Enrique held up some papers. “Three jewelers say so.”
I bared my teeth at him. “I’m not giving it to you.”
The necklace was the only protection I had from the family gift, which was the irritating ability to communicate with and be stalked by spirits. On her deathbed, my grandmother bestowed this horrifying power on me, the least qualified person in the family to handle the responsibility. Mom was livid that she’d been skipped over. Even my younger sister Deirdre was
a better choice than me. Grandma grabbed my hand, whispered the binding spell, and boom! Ghosts all over the fucking place. I was sixteen-years-old, and I had no idea dead people were complete assholes. After five years of harassment, last-wish requests, and late-night wake-up calls, I tracked down a witch named Sage and paid her to create the pendant necklace.
The circle was pure silver embedded with black obsidian for general protection, carnelian for physical protection, and fire agate for protection against evil. The middle stone was brown tiger-eye. It kept unwanted spirits away. Every couple of months I took it back to Sage, who dipped it in sacred water and rock salt and strengthened the magic. The pendant was a paranormal off switch that I couldn’t live without.
“If you have no other assets,” said the judge, “and the necklace is the only thing you have with any value, then you must give it to Mr. Santos.”
Enrique opened his hand and made a “gimme” gesture with his fingers.
“No,” I said.
“If you would prefer that I give you less time to pay Mr. Santos, then continue your protestations. What’s it to be, Ms. Graves? $5,000 due in one week, or handing over the necklace now and owing $3,500 to paid in thirty days?”
I wasn’t entirely sure the judge could demand I give up my personal property to my ex-boyfriend to pay my debt. Why hadn’t I listened to the droning lectures my brother-in-law, an assistant district attorney, forced upon me every time I saw him?
Dread balled in my stomach as I reluctantly took off the necklace and handed it to the waiting bailiff. The burly man stepped to the other side of the courtroom and gave it to a very gleeful Enrique. He grinned at me as he pocketed the necklace. Then he blew me a kiss.