One hand still clutched the broken windshield wiper and she used it, whipping the creature’s face and muzzle with the frozen blade until she landed a slice across one ungodly glowing eye. The rage-filled snarl became a strangled yelp; the wolf released her leg and slipped from the hood. This time Zoey didn’t look, just turned and launched herself upward for the roof rack. She came down hard, adrenaline keeping her from feeling the impact of the bruising metal rails. She was conscious only of the desperate need to claw and grasp and cling and pull until she was safely on the very top of the vehicle.
Except she wasn’t safe. Not by a long shot. Crap. She could plainly see that she wasn’t high enough. Crap, crap, crap. The enraged wolf leapt upward in spite of the fact that its feet could find little traction on the ice-coated pavement. What it couldn’t gain in momentum, the wolf made up for in effort, hurling itself repeatedly against the Bronco. Its snapping jaws came so close that Zoey could see the bleeding welts across its face, see that one of its hellish eyes was now clouded and half-closed. She slashed at it again, catching its tender nose so it howled n frustration and pain as it dropped to the ground. Snarling, it paced back and forth like a caged lion, watching her. Waiting.
The wind picked up and the freezing rain intensified. Huddled on her knees in the exact center of the icy roof, Zoey’s adrenaline began to ebb. She was cold and exhausted, and parts of her were numb. But she wasn’t helpless ; she wouldn’t allow herself to think that way. The thin windshield wiper was badly bent with pieces of it missing, but she’d damn well punch the wolf in the nose with her bare fist if she had to. If she still could. . . .
The wolf sprang again.
Try THE DARKEST SIN by Caroline Richards,
out this month from Brava!
Rowena Woolcott was cold, so very cold.
She dreamed that she was on her horse, flying through the countryside at Montfort, a heavy rain drenching them both to the skin, hooves and mud sailing through the sodden air. Then a sudden stop, Dragon rearing in fright, before a darkness so complete that Rowena knew she had died.
When she awakened, it was to the sound of an anvil echoing in her head and the feeling of bitter fluid sliding down her throat. She kept her eyes closed, shutting out the daggered words in the background.
“Faron will not rest—”
“The Woolcott women—”
“One of his many peculiar fixations . . . they are to suffer . . . and then they are to die.”
“Meredith Woolcott believed she could hide forever.”
Phrases, lightly accented in French, drifted in and out of Rowena’s head, at one moment near and the next far away. Time merged and coalesced, a series of bright lights followed by darkness, then the sharp retort of a pistol shot. And her sister’s voice, calling out to her.
The cold permeated her limbs, pulling down her heavy skirts into watery depths. She tried to swim but her arms and legs would not obey, despite the fact that she had learned as a child in the frigid lake at Montfort. She did not sink like a stone, weighted by her corset and shift and riding boots, because it seemed as though strong hands found her and held her aloft, easing her head above the current tried to force water down her throat and into her lungs.
She dreamed of those hands, sliding her into dry, crisp sheets, enveloping her in a seductive combination of softness and strength. She tossed and turned, a fever chafing her blood, her thoughts a jumble of puzzle pieces vying for attention.
Drifting into the fog, she imagined that she heard steps, the door to a room opening, then the warmth of a body shifting beneath the sheets. She felt the heat, his heat, like a cauldron, a furnace toward which she turned her cold flesh. Her womb was heavy and her breasts ached as he slid into her slowly, infinitely slowly, the hugeness of him filling the void that was her center.
Was it one night or a lifetime of nights? Or an exquisite, erotic dream. Spooned with her back against his body, Rowena felt him hard and deep within her. She slid her hip against a muscular thigh, aware of him beginning to move within her once again. She savored the wicked mouth against the skin of her neck, pleasured by the slow slide of his lips. Losing herself in his deliberate caress, she reveled in his hands cupping and stroking, his fingers slipping into the shadows and downward to lightly tease her swollen, sentized flesh.
“Stay here . . . with me,” he whispered, breath hot in her ear.
And she did. For one night or a lifetime of nights, she would never know.
Good girls should NEVER CRY WOLF.
But who wants to be good?
Be sure to pick up Cynthia Eden’s latest novel,
out next month!
Lucas didn’t take the woman back to his house on Bryton Road. The place was probably still crawling with cops and reporters, and he didn’t feel like dealing with all that crap.
He called his first in command, Piers Stratus, to let him know that he was out of jail and to tell him that there two unwanted coyotes in town.
The woman—Sarah—didn’t speak while he drove. He could feel the waves of tension rolling off her, shaking her body.
She was scared. She’d done a fair job of hiding her fear back at the police station and then at the park, at first anyway. But as the darkness had fallen, he’d seen the fear. Smelled it.
Sarah had known she was being hunted.
He pushed a button on his remote. The wrought-iron gates before him opened and revealed the curving drive that led to his second LA home. In the hills, it gave him a great view of the city below, and that view let know him when company was coming, long before any unexpected guests arrived.
When the gate shut behind him, he saw Sarah sag slightly, settling back into her seat. The scent of her fear finally eased.
Like most of his kind, he usually enjoyed the smell of fear. But he didn’t . . . like the scent on her.
He much preferred the softer scent, like vanilla cream, that he could all but taste as it clung to her skin. Perhaps he would get a taste, later.
With a flick of his wrist, he killed the ignition. The house was right in front of them. Two stories, Long, tall windows.
And, he hoped, no more dead bodies.
He eased out of the car, stretching slowly. Then he walked around and opened the door for Sarah. As any man would, Lucas admired the pale flash of thigh when her skirt crept up. And he wondered just what secrets the lovely lady was keeping from him.
“We’re going to talk.” An order. He wanted to know everything, starting with why the dead human had been at his place.
She gave a quick nod. “Okay, I—”
A wolf bounded out of the house. A flash of black fur. Golden eyes. Teeth.
Shit. It wasn’t safe for the kid. Not until he found out what was going on—
The wolf ran to him. Tossed back his head and howled.
Sarah laughed softly.
Laughed.
His stare shot to her just in time to catch the smile on her lips. His hand lifted, and, almost helplessly, he traced that smile with his fingertips.
Her breath caught.
Lucas ignored the tightening in his gut. “Shouldn’t you be afraid?” After the coyotes, he’d expected her to flinch away from any other shifters. And Jordan was one big wolf, with claws and teeth that could easily rip a woman like Sarah apart.
She looked back at the wlf who watched them. “He’s so young, little more than a kid. One who’s glad you’re—”
No.
Understanding dawned, fast and brutal in his mind. I’m more than human. She’d told him that, he just hadn’t understood exactly what she was. Until now.
His hands locked around her arms and Lucas pulled her up against him. Nose to nose, close enough so that he could see the dark gold glimmering in the depths of her eyes. “Jordan, get the hell out of here.” He gave the order to his brother without ever looking away from her.
The wolf growled.
“Go!”
The young wolf pushed against his leg—letting me know he
’s pissed, cause Jordan hates when I boss his ass—and then the wolf backed away.
“Now for you, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened. “Why don’t we just go back to that part about you not being human?”
Her lips parted. She had nice lips—sexy and plump. He shouldn’t be noticing them, not then, but he couldn’t help himself. He noticed everything about her. The gold hoops in her dainty ears. The streaks of gold buried deep in her dark hair. The lotion she rubbed on her body—that vanilla scent was driving him wild.
He was turned on, achingly hard, for a woman he barely knew. Not normally a big deal. He had a more than a healthy sex drive. Most shifters did. The animal inside liked to play.
But Sarah . . . he didn’t trust her, not for a minute, and he didn’t usually have sex with women he didn’t trust. A man could be vulnerable to attack when he was fucking.
“You know what I am, Lucas,” she said and shrugged, the move both careless and fake because he knew that she cared, too much.
“Tell me.” Her mouth was so close. He could still taste her. That kiss earlier had just been a tease.
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2011 Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Who’s Been Sleeping in My Brother’s Bed?” copyright © 2011 Lucy Monroe
“Hot Mess” copyright © 2011 Jamie Denton
“Acapulco Heat” copyright © 2011 Elisabeth Naughton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Brava and the B logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-7197-6
Table of Contents
Title Page
Who’s Been Sleeping in My Brother’s Bed?
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
Hot Mess
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
Acapulco Heat
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
Teaser chapter
Teaser chapter
Teaser chapter
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Title Page
Who’s Been Sleeping in My Brother’s Bed?
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
Hot Mess
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
Acapulco Heat
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
Teaser chapter
Teaser chapter
Teaser chapter
Copyright Page
Bodyguards In Bed Page 25