by Anna Lowe
Sneak Peak I
Temptation: Chapter 1
Cole Harper stood before the swinging saloon doors for a good minute. Maybe two. The sun had set, and the air had that crisp, cool quality it only got in high-latitude Arizona, and only in spring evenings, when everything felt fresh and budding and new.
Sounds and smells from the saloon clawed at his shoulders, begging him to come in. Laughter rang out and chairs scraped along the floor. Country music poured from the jukebox, and a couple was starting to dance. The bartender thunked down an empty glass, poured a dry gin, and slid it all the way down the bar.
All that, he got without looking, just listening. Christ. What was wrong with him?
Go in, already.
Cole kept his thumbs hooked in his jeans and hunched a shoulder, trying to resist the urge.
Scents assaulted him, one after another in a thousand little punches. The peaty scent of aged whiskey, the charcoal flavor of a malt. The mouth-watering, meaty smell of spare ribs smoked over mesquite.
His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he could stop it.
Hurry up, already.
He’d been hearing that inner voice for a while now, and it was driving him nuts, like the itch on his arm. He’d been cut two weeks ago — a little, bitty cut sustained in a fight in this very saloon, when he’d come along just in time to stop a couple of thugs from jumping the two waitresses. Unbelievably strong guys with weird, claw-like nails he’d managed to avoid, except for that one scratch. The skin had healed now, but the itch remained.
An angry growl built in his throat at the memory of the intruders, then died away when he noticed the sound was coming from him and not some passing dog.
Christ, he was growling, now, too?
He coughed it away. Squared his shoulders, pushed the saloon’s batwing doors wide, and marched in, letting them swing behind him. He took off his hat, glanced in the mirror next to the sign that read, Check your guns at the door, and ran his fingers through the blond hair that curled and feathered any way it damn well wanted to a point somewhere beneath his ears. Then he headed straight for his chair at the end of the bar. A chair some fool was occupying, which made the growl build in his throat again.
My chair. My spot.
The inner voice was ridiculously territorial. He clenched his fists, telling himself he would not pick a fight. Telling himself it didn’t matter who was sitting in which chair.
Except that fool sitting smugly in his chair needed to get the hell out. Now.
“Hey, Cole.” A voice like honey stopped him, and his head whipped around. And just like that, the tension strung through his body like a thousand volt current dissipated. The sights and sounds and smells of the saloon faded away, and he was standing in a mountain meadow. Felt like it, anyway.
“Hi, Janna,” he whispered.
“Hey,” she smiled back.
Janna! Janna! The growl turned into a joyous inner cry.
She had her hair in two braids today, and it was really cute. Sometimes she wore it down and let it sway around her face like a liquid frame. Other times, she did this complicated french braid thing he dreamed of slowly unraveling and running his fingers through. And sometimes, she just wore a ponytail, and he liked that, too.
He liked everything about Janna. A lot. Her laugh, her smile, her way of tilting her head to listen when he whispered in her ear. He’d liked her since the day he’d first set eyes on the freckled spitfire who’d started waitressing in the saloon not too long ago, all sunny smile and sparkling eyes and bubbly voice. Her bouncy step and glossy brown hair was just as full of life as the rest of her. She had a way of looking at him as if she could see into him, and she didn’t even seem to mind what she found.
He tightened his fingers over his belt and ordered them to stay there. Because liking the vivacious waitress had slid right over to lusting for her in the past couple of weeks. Like he’d slipped and hit some dial that turned the testosterone up full blast. All he could think of was her. Or rather, him and her. Close. Unbridled. Uncontrolled.
Which didn’t make sense. He’d been there, done that with spunky cowgirl-types who could ride and rope and wrangle. What exactly did Janna have that turned every switch in a burned-out cowboy like him on?
Everything. She has everything. She is everything, the inner voice sighed.
When he could think straight, it scared him.
But he couldn’t think straight around Janna. She was all the girls he’d ever loved times fifty. Times a hundred. A thousand. She made him imagine all kinds of crazy things, like standing knee-deep in wildflowers in that meadow she always made him think of. A perfect, peaceful place so unlike the reality that had been haunting him these days. The ceiling fan of the saloon that turned in lazy circles became an eagle, wheeling on a Rocky Mountain breeze. As long as Janna was around, he was in heaven.
He clenched his fists against his sides. He was in the Blue Moon Saloon, damn it. And he was not going crazy. Not yet.
“How are you doing today?” she asked, propping her drink try against her hip.
Not crazy yet, he nearly said. But getting closer all the time. She was the only thing keeping him sane. In the hours he spent alone, he went through the wildest mood swings. One second, he’d be enjoying the scent of leather and horse as he saddled up a ride at the ranch he worked on, and the next, he’d be overcome with the bitterest fury, the weirdest urges. Like wanting to run naked at night. Wanting to tip his chin up to the waxing moon hanging over the desert and howl at it. To chase a deer, rip into it with bare teeth, and feast on warm flesh and blood.
“Been good,” he fibbed. “How about you?”
A customer walked past, and Janna stepped closer to his side.
God, she smelled nice. Like buttercup and daisies with a trace of forget-me-not, the blue flowers that were exactly the color of her eyes. All of that blended together in a soothing scent that settled his soul.
Mine. Mate.
He shook his head and looked around, hoping to spot some guy hiding somewhere, throwing his voice. But there was no one. Just that dark, husky voice in his mind that he didn’t trust one bit. What was with the mate nonsense, anyway?
“Happy to see you.” Janna smiled and tilted forward on the balls of his feet. Just enough that if he wanted, he could kiss her.
It wouldn’t be their first kiss, either, because they’d been out dancing a few weeks back, before he started losing his mind. It was the first night he’d enjoyed in a long, long time. A great night, even, breathing her in and holding her close and only letting go long enough to whirl her around then pull her straight back into his arms, where he’d whispered in her ear and made her laugh and smile that incredible smile. Fast dancing turned into slow dancing, and slow dancing turned into a melting kind of grind, and the kiss was only the first of many he planned to shower on her all the way back to his place.
But her friends had interrupted them, and though she’d all but snarled them off, he’d come to his senses and backed away for her own good. He could get drunk on Janna, but she deserved better than him.
Kiss her, the voice growled. Take her. Mark her!
He took half a step back. That voice was dangerous. Demanding. Crude. A man didn’t take from a woman. Not the kind of man he’d been raised to be.
Believe me, she’s asking, the voice shot back.
Well, if she was, he had to be the one who kept a clear head. So what if their bodies breezed into a crazy high just from being close?
Need her to survive the change, the voice inside him murmured. Need my mate.
He shivered. Survive? Change? Mate? He truly was losing his mind.
Being around Janna slowed it down, though. She calmed him down. Well, most of the time. Usually, she made him think of a place like that idyllic meadow, where he could lie down with his head in her lap and settle into a profound peace. Sometimes, though, all he could imagine was rolling with her in that meadow. Stripping off her clothes and his and pou
nding inside her as she wrapped her legs around him and raked her nails across his back. He’d imagine pumping his hips as madly as she’d pump hers while she screamed her pleasure and—
“You okay?” Her brow furrowed.
He took a deep breath and winced at the crushing hardness in his jeans. “Good. Yeah. Great.” A lie, but it was better than the truth. Not okay. Thinking of throwing you over my shoulder and fucking you nowhere near as gently as you deserve.
Her nostrils flared, and for the briefest of instants, he wondered if she’d like that.
He turned to the bar, trying to clear his mind — only to spot the asshole sitting in his chair again. His chair!
He clenched his teeth and his fists, because anger came with an awful, pinching pain. Under his nails and canines, like they were being pulled out by pliers. Or pushed out from inside to make space for—
“Cole,” Janna murmured. The second she put a hand on his arm, the pain faded along with the fury. “I got this.”
She scurried ahead and smiled at the man while Cole glared from over her shoulder. Janna was tall, only a couple of inches under his six feet, and she had an athletic, self-assured poise that doubled her presence.
“We’ve got a table for you now,” she told the customer, pointing.
Cole gritted his teeth and told himself she was smiling at the guy because it was her job, not because the ass deserved it.
“Thanks, sitting at the bar is fine.” The man’s smile was aimed at Janna, but when his gaze turned to Cole, it faded fast. “On second thought…” He grabbed his drink and fled.
Cole glared at the man’s back until Janna stuck an elbow in his ribs, squelching the growl he wasn’t aware of until then.
“Look.” She patted the bar stool and made her voice silky-sweet. “All yours.”
Her hand ran over his shoulder, and their eyes met.
All mine, the voice hummed inside.
“All yours,” she nodded.
His eyes went wide. Did she really mean…
She steered him onto the stool, and her hands on his waist felt good. Like dancing had been — that feeling of rightness, of belonging, of a perfect fit.
He sat down and she came a little closer. Closer still, like she was getting sucked into the magic spell, too. It took everything he had not to pull her into the space between his legs and deliver a huge, bruising kiss.
“Janna!” The big guy working the bar called. Simon Voss, one of two brothers who ran the place. Well, they pretended to run the place. It was Janna and her sister, the waitresses, who kept the place hopping. The brothers were good at security, though, and kept the customers on their best behavior when it came to Janna and Jessica. And Cole was a regular, so they were okay with him, not to mention grateful for his intervention that night of the attack.
Still, Simon shot him a look that said, Watch it, cowboy. Got my eye on you, too.
Cole wanted to glare back and protest. Hey, you can trust me! But he couldn’t even trust himself these days, so why should Simon?
Janna pulled away, and his heart ached just at that much space opening up again. Then she ran a smooth palm over his cheek and whispered, “Be right back,” making his soul settle again.
“I’ll be right here,” he growled as she went. It was a promise and a warning to anyone eyeing her perfect ass. And there were plenty of suspects on that count. A whole saloon full of them, it felt like.
And jeez, the place was hopping tonight. Before Janna and her sister came along, the saloon hadn’t pulled in half as many customers. It was listless and dusty and dead — sort of the way he felt. But then Janna had filled it with laughter and smiles and life, and he started coming because…because…
Well, maybe in spite of himself.
Janna shot him one parting smile over her shoulder, making him go warm all over.
Mine, the inner voice growled. Mate.
“I’ll be right here,” he whispered, telling himself everything would be all right.
###
Temptation is Book 2 in the Blue Moon Saloon series and Redemption, Soren’s story, is Book 3. Follow these links to order your own copy of Temptation and Redemption. Enjoy!
Sneak Peek: Desert Hunt
The prequel to the Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch — the sister series to Blue Moon Saloon
Rae has a secret—one she can’t allow any wolf pack to discover. But with an old enemy hot on her heels, she has no option but to trust Zack, the man from the wrong side of the tracks. Taking off on the back of Zack’s Harley seems like good idea at first, but when she lowers her defenses for the captivating coyote shifter, she might just be risking it all.
Click here to read the excerpt or order your copy of Desert Hunt today!
Sneak Peak II
Desert Hunt: Prologue
“Rae!”
It was a barked order, not a request.
Rae gritted her teeth and counted to five before turning slowly and facing the source: Sabrina, the daughter of the ruling alpha. Still a spoiled brat at seventeen. Rae didn’t want to imagine what the girl might be like in another couple of years.
“My father wants you in his office. Now.” Sabrina underpinned the command with a flick of her glossy mane.
Rae wouldn’t have thought it was possible for a werewolf to be a princess, but there it was. Sabrina made damn sure she punctuated every sentence with a jangle of gold bracelets and the same two words—my father—reminding everyone of the pecking order around here.
That was one of the bitter truths of pack hierarchy. The alphas and their offspring ruled the roost, and the rest of the pack had no choice but to fight or submit. Twenty-eight hardscrabble years had taught Rae that all too well.
She chipped another little piece off her soul and did as directed, pretending to be like the others. A good little female meant for hearth and home—and definitely, definitely, not for the hunt.
She worked off the tension steeling her jaw, reminding herself she had something far, far more special in her heritage than alpha blood. Something secret. But she’d be damned if she let on to anyone. A pack would claim her forever if they found out, and then she’d never be free.
“Do you ever bother looking in a mirror?” Sabrina smirked, eyeing Rae’s tangled hair.
Not nearly as often as you. She nearly shot the words out but caught herself on the first syllable. So what if her long brown hair was usually thrown into a loose ponytail? So what if her figure said athlete and not cover girl? That’s who she was, and she liked it that way. She’d leave the plunging necklines to curvy girls like Sabrina, because attracting unwanted attention could be a dangerous thing.
She set off, finger-combing her hair on the way to the alpha’s office and flicking away a burr she’d picked up some time that morning. So she’d been out wandering again. Was that so wrong for one of their kind?
Except she wasn’t exactly their kind. Oh, she was a wolf shifter all right, but one born to another pack. And even back home in Colorado, she’d always been a little different. The one who didn’t quite fit in.
Her inner wolf let out a snort. A lot different. If only they knew.
Rae eyed the alpha’s office door warily before giving it a nervous knock. There was a grunt, and she entered, dropping her eyes in the required sign of subordination to the grizzled old alpha and his haughty mate. Even after all these years at Westend pack, the gesture didn’t come easily.
“Your lucky day has come,” Roric announced, curt and cold. “Pack your things.”
For this alpha, a smile and a sneer were one and the same. What did he mean by lucky day?
She glanced uncertainly at his mate, who frowned in acid disapproval of Rae’s dusty jeans, her plain blue T-shirt, her… Well, her everything.
“Get moving.” Roric jutted his square chin toward the door. “Another pack is willing to try you out for a season.”
Rae’s heart thumped. She’d been hoping something would come along in another pack—a job, an inte
rnship, anything. She’d had enough of Nevada. Not so much the heat or the dusty flats but the stifling hierarchy of Roric’s Westend pack. That and the fact that these shifters had sold their souls. Gambling was big business in Nevada, but as far as Rae was concerned, it was a business wolf packs had no place in. What happened to their connection to the earth, to the old ways?
Unfortunately, Roric’s pack had only let go of some of the old ways. They’d clung to the rest: the crushing, absolutist authority, the strict delineation of male and female roles. The only consolation was that Roric wasn’t as bad as some others—like the alpha Rae had fled in Colorado ten years before. Here, her body was safe. And by now, she’d learned the ropes. If she toed the line carefully, she had a modicum of freedom. After all, no one ever paid attention to what the odd wolf out did on the night of a new moon.
But who knew what it would be like in a different pack?
“Where?” she blurted.
Roric waved a lazy hand as if it were all the same to him. But that gesture, like so many others, was probably rehearsed. This alpha didn’t do anything without analyzing it for the benefits—to him and his pack. Individual wishes didn’t register on his list.
“Arizona. Twin Moon Ranch.”
She caught a breath. When she’d put in a request for a transfer, she’d been thinking East Coast, where the packs were said to be more modern-minded. But Arizona? Wolf packs in the Four Corners area were known to be old school. And Arizona—that was old-old school. Who knew what kind of alpha she’d have there?
She glanced around, second-guessing herself. Westend had never felt like home, but did she really want to start all over again?
The hard faces greeting her provided all the answer she needed: the decision was made.
“Who knows,” the alpha female added with a conspiratorial glance at her partner. “You might finally find a suitable mate there.”
Rae hid the stutter in her breath. Was that a hint? A threat? The room leaned in over her, as enclosed spaces always did. She let her chin dip into the briefest nod, asking—begging—to be dismissed while her mind spun. Arizona?