On the Hunt

  He stared down at her, serious in his expression. "Sunny, forget my trail of women, okay? Lord knows I want to. And Lord knows they wanna forget me!" He laughed, but there was a trace of regret in his gaze. "Thing is, I just hadn't found you yet, but once I did, I was ready for . . . well, everything we're gonna share. And I do mean everything." He glanced pointedly at the bed, then asked uncertainly, "The question is, though, are you ready? For this?"

  She leaned forward, capturing his mouth with an answering, exuberant kiss. She was more than ready. She needed all of James Dixon Angel right now, and she wanted to make that fact abundantly clear. His tongue darted within her mouth, creating a tantalizing motion, teasing at her own tongue.

  Still kissing her, he moved toward the bed, then playfully swung her down onto the mattress with a light bounce. He might as well have been tossing a feather, he handled her weight so effortlessly, which caused her to think of those hard muscles she'd felt beneath his clothes. And reminded her that she was about to see him in all his naked, masculine glory. She, who had never seen a nude human male—ever.

  "Jamie? You know I don't . . . know . . ." She panted against his cheek as he lowered himself between her legs, nudging them apart with one hard, strong thigh.

  "I'm gonna show you everything, Sunbeam," he promised, sliding warm, calloused hands up underneath her turtleneck. Instantly her nipples puckered, reacting as his palms moved up along her slender rib cage. Such warmth, such self-assurance, the way he touched her, coasting those strong hands upward until he cupped one breast in his hand, leaning all his weight on the other elbow. Her nipples tightened even more, beading beneath the silk and lace of her bra. She arched into his touch, wanting to feel his fingers rub back and forth over her sensitive flesh, and as she did, he settled more firmly between her thighs. A hard ridge pressed into the vee of her open legs and she lifted against it, needing him closer—desperately wanting all of him much closer.

  In reaction, he began a kind of rocking motion, back and forth between her legs, mimicking what they both craved. The clothes simply had to go, or she'd never have all of him. Fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, she tried to unfasten it, but her hands were trembling too badly. Easing her hands out of the way, he locked his eyes on her with a blazing, heated gaze and made quick work of his own shirt, until it fell open about his hips. She gasped. Literally. He had a chiseled physique that was even more stunning than her ripe imagination had dreamed. She sank back into the down pillows and gazed up at him in awed wonder. He had tight pectorals with dark pink nipples that were as puckered as her own. And that chest was nearly hairless, smooth and sculpted, giving way to cordoned abdominals that made her pulse race. Much lower, she glimpsed a line of curling hair that vanished into the waistband of his jeans, a trail of pleasure that practically begged her to follow.

  He began to lower himself atop her again, but she darted a hand to stroke that soft thatch of hair, dipping two fingertips beneath his waistband to trace the scandalous path. She met resistance in the form of cotton boxers and Jamie gave her a sensual smile. In one easy motion, he rolled off of her and onto his side, unsnapping his fly with an easy flick of his fingers. He tugged his jeans zipper to half-mast, then guided her hand there, obviously wanting her to finish the job.

  "Have at me, baby," he murmured, leaning into the pillow and closing his eyes. "I want to feel your hand all inside my pants, I admit it."

  It was an admission and a gesture of full surrender, and she doubted Jamie Angel was much in the practice of giving himself over to a woman quite so fully. Undoubtedly he'd spent his entire romantic life dominating and avoiding intimacy.

  Tentatively she gave his zipper a light tug, being gentle because of how it bowed outward with his erection. Slowly she managed to lower it, and much to her shock, his firm length bounced free and into the palm of her hand. It was warm, the flesh so much softer than she'd have imagined, and she traced her thumb over the tip. Dampness formed beneath her touch, and she jolted.

  Surely a man didn't come this easily . . . did he?

  Jamie opened his eyes with a lazy, aroused look. "Just what I want . . . Keep going, Sunshine."

  There was so much she didn't know and should've asked Kate. Or at least read in a book, but she'd always been afraid of being reprimanded if she explored human sexuality. Now here she was feeling stupidly clueless. She touched his tip again and even more dampness beaded beneath her touch. Jamie growled in obvious pleasure, and she paused again.

  "You're amazing, sweetheart. Nobody's ever touched me like you. . . ." He urged his hips upward, seeming to beg for more.

  "You're not . . . done? But you're wet. . . ."

  He barked a laugh and pulled her atop him, pinioning her close against his chest with both arms. "On second thought, let me show you a few things," he promised huskily. "I want to give you a different kind of heaven."

  She was tighter than he'd imagined, but then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd made love to a virgin. Actually . . . that would be never. His women had always been loose and ready and dismissive of foreplay, so taking it slow with Sunny was a revelation. Every time he stroked any part of her, she purred or moaned, and when he slid his fingertips between her legs, caressing the slick folds, her eyes flew open. She stared at him, panting, as he slowly slid first one finger, then a second inside of her. By the erotic look in her eyes, he was pretty sure she'd never fully known what to expect.

  "I'm your love tutor," he teased, stroking a little deeper inside her, a back-and-forth friction that had her whole body warming against his own. "And you are an outstanding pupil, my Sunbeam."

  She nodded, swallowing hard. "I want to learn everything. Feel everything with you, Jamie."

  It was time; she was ready and wet and thrusting her hips against his palm. He drew a deep breath, knowing that she'd have a fleeting moment of pain with what he did next. Lowering himself between her thighs, he paused as their hips pressed close together. For one endless moment they both seemed to hold their breath, eyes unblinking and locked on each other. Everything would change; their entire future was suspended in this breath-stealing instant.

  Finally, she gave a resolute nod, wrapping her arms tight about his neck and pulling him close.

  "Now," she urged on a sigh. "Now, my love."

  He surged inside her, feeling slight resistance, then only her grasping warmth, her welcoming fire. "Oh, God above, yes!" he half groaned and half prayed.

  She dug fingers into the small of his back, surging upward as he plunged deeper into her. For an innocent, she knew exactly what she wanted—her body's instincts providing more direction than he ever possibly could.

  They rocked together, and he lifted her right thigh up about him, wanting to be deeper inside her slickness, hungry to give her even more pleasure. She wrapped her other leg tight about his torso, embracing him with her thighs—and giving him the fullest penetration. As he hit that sweet spot, she cried out, throwing her head back against the pillow and clutching his shoulders. He felt her quiver about his hard length, and couldn't restrain himself any longer, either. Quaking all over, he plunged deep into her, riding out waves and waves of pulsing pleasure. With one hand he gripped the headboard, squeezing as the strong orgasm shot through his whole body; with his other he clutched her hip, urging her upward with every one of his thrusts.

  And then a blissful stillness descended upon them both. A serenity that he'd never once known before in his life. They lay entwined, he exhausted atop her, she sprawled beneath with her legs still half hitched around his hips. After a moment, he lifted a sweat-slicked palm to her cheek, wiping away some dampness there. She blinked up at him wordlessly, wondrously, and he'd never seen more love in any woman's eyes than he did in Sunny Renfroe's right then.

  "My wife," he said softly, brushing a wayward curl out of her eyes, "I do have one thing to correct you on."

  She lifted both eyebrows high. "I did something wrong? While we—"

  He silenced her
by pressing fingertips to her lips. "You are perfect. That was beyond perfect. No, but what you said about me being God's gift to the women of Savannah?"

  She nodded, and he stroked her lips with his thumb, smiling down at her. "Yeah, well, truth is . . . you're God's gift to me. That's the real way of it."

  She beamed up at him, then began to giggle, clamping a hand over her mouth.

  "What?" he asked.

  "It's just . . . you're God's gift to me, too."

  "And that's funny why?" he asked, frowning slightly.

  "When I was little, I always did want a hound dog."

  He rolled with her until she was splayed atop him, her breasts bouncing lightly against his chest, her legs spread wide about him. "For that, Mrs. Angel, I shall be forced to exact a penalty. Besides, I'm not a dog, remember? I'm your great big pussycat."

  "And that makes me your catnip," she said as he felt his groin stir to life anew.

  He pushed up against her still-damp opening and released a low, seductive meow right in her ear.

  Yes, heaven. Sunny Renfroe was his heaven on earth.

  Read on for a sneak preview of the next novel in the Sentinel Wars series by Shannon K. Butcher,

  BLOODHUNT

  Coming from Signet in August 2011

  The color of suffering was a dark and sickly yellow, and Hope Serrien knew she'd see it on a night like tonight.

  A cold front had swept down over the city, slaying any hope that spring was coming soon.

  Power lines glistened with a layer of ice, and icicles dripped from street signs. The sidewalk under her feet was slick, but even that couldn't keep her indoors tonight. A night like this brought death to those who had no place to escape the cold.

  And cold wasn't the only enemy on the streets. There were things out here. Dark, evil things.

  People were going missing, and Hope feared they hadn't simply moved on to warmer climes.

  Sister Olive was a middle-aged woman who ran the homeless shelter where Hope volunteered.

  She'd insisted that Hope stay indoors tonight, but the nun had never truly felt the frigid desperation of having nowhere to go. She'd always had a warm, safe place where she knew she belonged.

  Not everyone was so lucky.

  Hope shifted the canvas bag on her shoulder and walked faster. She always carried sandwiches and blankets in case she ran into those in need—those who refused to come to the shelter. With any luck, they'd all have better sense than to be stubborn on a night such as this.

  She scanned the street, paying close attention to the dark crevices between buildings and inside recessed doorways. That glowing, yellow aura of suffering was hard to miss.

  Or maybe Hope had just had a lot of practice at spotting it.

  If Sister Olive knew how Hope found people in need—if she knew Hope could see auras—the nun would probably have had her committed. Good thing that wasn't something that came up in normal conversation. Hope wasn't sure she could lie to a nun.

  A flicker of unease made Hope pull her coat closed more tightly around her neck. She'd seen things at night—things she knew couldn't be real. Dark, monstrous things that slinked between shadows, hiding from sight. Their auras were black. Silent. She couldn't read them, which made her question whether the monsters even truly existed outside of her imagination.

  She probably should have brought one of the men along with her to ward off any problems. But how would she explain to her escort how she knew where to go? It was better to do this alone and keep her secrets. Fitting in among normal people was hard enough when she didn't draw attention to her ability.

  Hope forced herself to head toward the one place she hadn't yet searched for those missing souls. She hated getting near the run-down Tyler building—it brought up too much pain and confusion, too many bad memories. She'd promised herself that tonight she'd put her ridiculous fears aside and look for her friends there.

  The three-story brick structure rose into the night sky. The lighting here hadn't been maintained, leaving deep pools of darkness to hover about the building like an aura of decay.

  A heavy thud and a screech of wrenching metal rose up from behind the structure.

  There was definitely someone back there. Or some thing .

  Images of those dark creatures flickered in her mind. Her muscles locked up in fear, and for a moment she stood frozen to the pavement.

  The real danger out here tonight was the cold, not monsters, and the longer people were left to suffer in it, the more dangerous it became.

  Hope forced her legs to move. Her first steps were slow and shuffling, as if her own body was working against her. Then she picked up speed slowly, shoving all thoughts of monsters from her mind.

  As she crept down the alley that led to the back of the building, she heard more noises that she couldn't quite identify. There was a grunt of pain and the rattle of wood tumbling about. Once, she thought she heard a woman's voice, but she couldn't be sure. The only woman she knew who was too stubborn to come inside out of the cold was her friend Rory.

  Hope cleared the corner, and the first thing she saw was the gaping hole where the overhead door had been ripped open and partially off its track. The metal looked as if it had been punched in with a giant fist, leaving jagged shards behind.

  From within the opening, Hope saw a brief flash of color—the sickly yellow of suffering.

  Rory.

  Desperate fear washed over her, making her lurch forward through the ragged opening. It was too dark inside to see, so she fished inside her satchel for the flashlight she always carried.

  A feral growl of rage rose up from her left. It wasn't a human sound. Not even close.

  Primal fear surged through her, and she had to fight the need to curl into the smallest space possible so she could hide.

  Her search for the flashlight became frantic, her gloves hindering her as she fished around in her bag.

  She located the hard, heavy cylinder, only to have it slip from her grasp.

  Heavy, pounding steps shook the floor. A woman cried out in fear somewhere to Hope's right.

  Hope grasped the flashlight and powered it on as she ripped it from the bag. The beam of light bobbed around, catching motes of dust as it passed.

  Hope aimed it toward the sound of torment. The light bounced off something huge and shiny.

  Something pulsing with muscle and moving so fast, she couldn't keep the light trained on it.

  Its aura was black nothingness.

  Panic gripped her tight. She needed more light to ward off this thing. Something as hideous as that would hate the light. She felt it on an instinctive level, as if she'd been taught how to protect herself from the monster.

  Hope swung the light around to the employee entrance next to the pulverized overhead door, hoping there would be a switch nearby. Surely whoever came in through that door would need to have access to lights, right?

  The beam of light shook in her grasp, vibrating with the trembling of her hands as she searched.

  It seemed to take forever, but as she neared the door, she saw a series of switches.

  She sprinted over the dusty floor, praying that the power here was still on—that whoever was trying to sell this place had left the electric on for potential buyers.

  Hope shoved up all four switches at once. There was a muted thunk, then an electric buzz. Light poured down over the room, and while many of the bulbs were burned out, it seemed as bright as the surface of the sun compared to a moment ago.

  She blinked and turned, forcing herself to look at what her flashlight had touched.

  The room was large and open. Lines that had been painted on the floor to outline separate areas were now covered in dust. A stack of wooden pallets had been toppled, and the dust from their fall had not yet settled.

  Across the room was a giant, hulking creature poised over someone she couldn't quite see. All she could tell was that they were surrounded by that yellow aura of hunger and suffering she'd come to know so
well.

  The beast's head swiveled toward her, the movement sinuous and fluid. Its green eyes fixed on her, and she swore they flared brighter for a brief moment.

  An unnatural fear rose inside her, screaming for her to run. Hope knew what this thing was. She An unnatural fear rose inside her, screaming for her to run. Hope knew what this thing was. She didn't know its name or where it came from, but she knew that it wanted her blood.

  A roar filled her ears as a distant memory tried to surface. Her head spun, and she clutched the wall behind her to stay on her feet.

  Please, God. Not now.

  As much as Hope wanted to remember her past, she wouldn't survive the distraction. She fought off the memory, mourning its loss even before it passed.

  The beast snorted out a heavy breath, sending four curls of steam into the cold air. Its mouth opened, revealing sharp, wicked teeth.

  Hope was sure the thing wore a sinister grin.

  "Run!" shouted a man.

  She couldn't see him, but it was his aura that peeked out from behind the monster. It pulsed with a flare of bright blue courage, and a second later the monster roared as if it had been struck.

  Now that its attention was no longer focused on Hope, her knees unlocked and started working again. She needed to find help. Fast.

  She had turned to do just that when she caught a glimpse of an aura peeking out from behind the toppled pile of pallets.

  Hope rushed over and found a man lying unconscious on the floor. One side of his face was darkened with a bruise, and in his loose grip was a board covered in the same shiny stuff that coated the monster's skin.

  His aura was faint, the colors flickering like the flames of a dying fire.

  He wasn't going to make it if she didn't do something.

  Across the room, a crash sounded as the fight wore on. Hope didn't waste time figuring out who was winning. It was going to take all her strength to get this man out of harm's way. Just in case it was the monster who won.