Shifters Hallows Eve

by Lori King

  "Wake up, sleepyhead. The food is here."

  On cue, Victoria's stomach rumbled. Blinking, she sat straight up and looked around. True to Daniel's word, three large white sacks bearing the logo of a Mexican restaurant sat on the table—the source of the delicious scent. Her wolf burst over her, and it required an act of will to quell the desire to vocalize her exuberance for food. The situation so richly deserved a joyous yodel.

  "How long was I asleep?"

  "Less than an hour." Daniel rose and crossed the room. He wore a robe that was identical to hers except the hemline stopped at his knees. The white terrycloth offset his deep tan. Curiosity led her to cast a quick glance at her own arm, confirming that the man was a couple shades darker.

  He flashed a slow smile. "That was a low blow—taking all the towels."

  "Yeah? Well, you had it coming."

  Sharing a laugh, they dragged the only chairs in the room over to the small round table. Conversation remained at a minimum while they dug out and distributed the food across the surface. From the looks of it, Daniel must have ordered half the menu—burritos, enchiladas, tamales, and tacos. Snatching up a Styrofoam container at random, Victoria pried open the lid off, releasing a cloud of steam straight into her face. She inhaled—tasting the vapor—and identified the spicy stew as birria—goat stew.

  Her startled gaze flew to Daniel. "You didn't—"

  "I figured it might make up a bit for you having missed the Winter Nights feast." He passed her tortillas and a spoon.

  "Thank you." Speechless, she got down to the serious business of feeding her wolf, though real wonderment lingered in her mind. Granted, consuming goat meat stew hardly equated to performing the ritualized sacrifice in honor of the Vanir deities—Freya and her brother, Freyr. But the sentiment carried a lot of weight. It amazed and impressed her that he'd been so attentive to what mattered most to her.

  Freya chimed in, It is a worthy gesture. Grant him my appreciation and thanks.

  I will do that. Swallowing a mouthful, Victoria wiped her mouth on a napkin. She watched Daniel down the end of a burrito. "Freya desires that I convey her appreciation and thanks."

  A smile tugged at his lips. "You're welcome. I hope this makes up some for what was probably the crappiest second date in the history of the world."

  She chortled. "Oh-ho-ho! So you finally admit this was a date?"

  "Yeah. You've got me."

  "It wasn't so bad. I got to spend time with a really great guy—and fight the ghost of a giant skeleton. How many women can say that?"

  "Not too many." He smiled but his expression remained pensive.

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'm wondering whether there's going to be a third date."

  Oh. Damn. Victoria's teeth sank into her lower lip, and she worried it. She harbored more than a few reservations about the appropriateness or workability of them—a wolf and a hunter. Oh, as allies and hunting partners, they made a sublime team. But romantically? She had her misgivings.

  Daniel noted her lack of ready response with a wry smile. "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of."

  "I'm sorry. I'm not sure if this is a good idea."

  "What is it you're not sure about? At least give me a chance to change your mind." He pushed aside the containers and shoved away from the table, dragging his chair closer to hers.

  "It's not about changing my mind... It's not made up one way or the other. We make a good team when it comes to hunting but this—" She turned her hand in a vague gesture which conveyed the murkiness of her emotions.

  "We do more than just fight well together. We're good together, period. I know you've got doubts. You're always holding back—watching me—judging me. But I have no idea what you're thinking."

  She found herself caught in a quagmire of awkwardness. Impulsively, she opted for humor as a means of defusing the tension. Deliberately comical, she leered at his chest. "Most of the time I'm just lusting after all those muscles."

  "Thanks, I think." He laughed, and she sighed.

  "You're right. I have some reservations."

  "Let's talk about it. C'mon, it's only fair for you to tell me what's holding you back. I can't convince you if you won't talk to me."

  "I'm talking. I'm just not sure what to say."

  "Bullshit. You always know what you want to say. You hold your tongue when you're being diplomatic."

  She stared at him in astonishment. "When did you get to know me so well?"

  "Are we back to this being a hunter-wolf thing?"

  "No," she snapped. "We're back to this being a respect thing."

  He jerked and drew back. "I respect you.

  "Do you?"

  "Yeah, I do." Daniel's eyes narrowed; the rest of his face hardened. His stance underwent a pronounced transformation to assertive, and his scent soured on the strident rush of anger. She'd insulted his honor.

  Visceral delight thrilled through her. She tensed in response to his aggression—capitalized on it. She wanted him angry and invested in their relationship—if that was truly what this was. "Then why didn't your family accept my mother's offer to heal your mom when she fell ill?"

  Surprise wiped out his ire. His eyes hooded and his lips parted, but he hung onto his words with grim greed. Innate caution led him to consideration—and contemplation, both of her and the issue. She approved of his discipline—restraint carried weight with her. A taciturn man seldom had cause to regret his words. And a man who couldn't control his temper lacked the mettle to make a good Alpha.

  Lesser males weren't worthy of her.

  "Believe me, if it'd been up to my father, my brothers, and me, we would have. But it was my mother's call. She refused magical intervention." He flexed his hands, telegraphing his tension.

  "Why? Why would she—" A startled exclamation escaped Victoria. Of all the potential answers he might've given, she wasn't expecting that. She cut herself short because the question was both intrusive and insensitive. None of her damn business.

  Daniel smiled, tight and grim. "Believe me, we asked the exact same thing. My father was furious. He and mom got in a shouting match—my parents never argued. At least, not in front of us."

  "I'm sorry." Guilt crushed her, condemning her own narrow-minded assumptions and prejudices. It served her right for making snap judgments. Ever since she'd been little, her father had cautioned Victoria, citing her tendency to do so as a barrier to someday taking over leadership of the pack.

  "Don't apologize." His piercing gaze conveyed the unsettling impression that the man could read exactly what she was thinking. "My family understands that wolves don't share their magic with outsiders. I don't know whether it was properly expressed at the time, but we appreciated the offer. We're grateful."

  Relief washed over her. Maybe, just maybe, Jake Barrett wouldn't oppose Victoria dating his oldest son as strongly as she'd feared. And she despised the fact she even cared what Daniel's father thought. But damn it, the man exerted influence like a black hole—even in his absence, his sway affected everyone and everything for light years around. She worried about unforeseen consequences to herself and her pack if she chose to pursue a relationship with the Hunter King's eldest son.

  "You can speak for your father on that?" Victoria asked, needing to be sure.

  "I speak for my father on the matter," Daniel said. "Dad thanked your parents at my mom's funeral."

  "I didn't know." She hadn't attended the funeral because the invitation only extended to her parents. However, his words had the ring of conviction—and the scent of it. Truth. And she considered him a man to be taken at his word. Victoria smiled, content, and dismissed the matter—and her doubts.

  His unwavering gaze pierced her defenses, seeing past all her facades. "Are we good now?"

  An involuntary smile split her mouth. "Yeah, we're good."

  They rose in concert, smoothly as through a practiced maneuver. But thanks to her diminutive height, she beat him to it. The food still smelled plenty inviting, but
the birria she'd consumed had taken the edge off. She hungered still—but for other things.

  Sliding toward him, she raised her hand and pressed her palm against his bare chest where the robe split. Smooth skin over firm muscle. His heart beat strong and steady—a cadence to put her faith in. She parted the material, exposing the tattoo over his heart. Ever so lightly, she feathered her fingers over the two words— Absit omen.

  "What does this mean?" Victoria asked.

  "Absit omen—may what is said not come true." His smile was strange and quirky, as though the man had a secret he wasn't sharing. She scented evasion if not outright deception. She suspected him of leaving a lot unsaid. And that was okay. He'd explained enough to satisfy her curiosity.

  She liked an intriguing hint of mystery in a man.

  "Is that a blessing or a curse?" She scraped her nails across his pecs, deliberately grazing his flat nipples—he tensed beneath her touch.

  "A bit of both? I'm not entirely sure sometimes." Daniel's gaze locked on her face, his pupils fully dilated. Unmissable arousal permeated his aroma—notes of toasted spice and rich earthiness—all him, except for the lingering hint of soap and the hotel's complimentary citrus shampoo.

  "It's a ward against possession," she surmised. During the fight at the hotel, the wight had tried so hard to enter him but hadn't even been able to get a foothold—this explained why.

  Fleeting surprise crossed his face. "Yeah, it's a ward against involuntary possession."

  But it allowed voluntary possession? She licked her lips, tempted to ask, but thinking about other things. So apparently was he, because he bent and captured her lips in a ravenous kiss. He wrapped his powerful arms around her, caressing her back through the terrycloth. Reaching up, she clung to his broad shoulders and stood on her toes. Their mouths merged, tongues stroking. The all-too-evident proof of his desire tented the front of his robe.

  Too much clothing. With a whimper of frustration, she caught his wrist and guided his hand beneath the V-neckline to her small, firm breast. His rough palms covered her completely and abraded her nipple. Liquid heat coursed through her.

  "Oh, baby." Daniel's breath escaped in a slick hiss. The air thickened with the musk of his spiked arousal. He claimed her mouth in a kiss of crushing gravity—irresistible attraction.

  In a coordinated motion, they scuttled the three feet to the edge of the bed and tipped over into it, landing with an energetic bounce that broke their kiss. Laughing, she rolled over so she faced him. Daniel propped his head on his hand, a devilish little smile on his lips. His breath ghosted over her face; firm lips feathered across her temple. Victoria inhaled and stirred in his arms but held back. She didn't want to rush—too lazy and too content. Their first time together was special and should be savored.

  "Mmm, you smell good." She stroked her hands across his bare chest. She extended her leg to brush his bare calf—coarse, springy hairs beneath the pads of her bare toes.

  "So do you."

  "There's something I need to know..."

  "What's that?" Daniel asked, foggy and distracted.

  "Whether you're compensating..."

  "What?" He frowned in clear confusion.

  Victoria tried and failed to suppress giggles—she erupted into a girlish fit. As bold as she pleased, she slipped her hand past the part of his robe and captured his cock, wrapping her hand about the heavy base. His thick length pressed against her palm and the inside of her wrist... Her grin widened.

  He groaned, leaning into her touch. "Am I compensating?"

  "We'll see." Victoria coached her tone to snarky. "I was taught growing up, it's not what you've got but what you do with it." She rolled him onto his back and threw a leg over him, straddling his thighs.

  A squawk of dismay escaped her when he flipped them using an unexpected wrestling move. He shoved her robe aside and slid down her body, the hot exhalation of his breath playing across her skin. He kissed and licked her navel. She moaned, coherent thought destroyed, reduced to a quivering mass of need.

  Daniel chuckled. "And I was taught—ladies first."

  The End.

  About the Author

  Melissa Snark is a paranormal and romance author with a particular interest in werewolves and Norse mythology. Her Loki's Wolves series combines elements of both in a contemporary fantasy setting. She lives in Northern California with her husband, three children and a glaring of cats. Visit her website at MelissaSnark.com. Join her author newsletter to receive and receive two free books.

  Also by Melissa Snark

  Romance

  A Cat's Tale

  Learning to Fly

  The Mating Game

  Urban Fantasy

  Loki's Wolves Series

  Valkyrie's Vengeance (Book #0)

  Hunger Moon (Book #1)

  Battle Cry (Book #2)

  Wolf's Cross (Book #3)

  Blood Brothers (To be released)

  Brother by Choice (A short story)

  Star-Crossed

  Hunter's Mark

  Tears for Her Dragon by Julia Mills

  Dragon Guard Series #16

  There Are No Coincidences.

  The Universe Does Not Make Mistakes.

  Fate Will Not Be Denied.

  Escaped from hell on earth, lost and alone, a wail in the night calls to not only his beast but also his heart. Finding this tortured woman is all that matters.

  On the run, hiding in plain sight, the icy fingers of doom invade her soul. The pull of the world she fled tears at the fiber of her being.

  Lovers from different worlds, fighting a common enemy, thrown together by the Reaper himself, helpless but to do as he bids.

  Can these two souls find peace when the Devil himself is demanding his due?

  Acknowledgments

  Proofread by Tammy Payne with Book Nook Nuts

  Cover Designed by Linda Boulanger with Tell Tale Book Covers

  Dare to Dream! Find the Strength to Act! Never Look Back!

  Thank you, God.

  To my girls, Liz and Em: I Love You. Every day, every way, always.

  Index of the Original Language of the Dragon Kin

  Tears for Her Dragon

  Mo chroi’……….My heart

  Mo ghra’……….My love

  Ta’ mo chroi istigh ionat……….My heart is within you

  Mo stór……….My treasure

  Mo maité……….My mate

  Mo Dragon……….My dragon

  An radharc na beatha agus bás……….The Sight of Life and Death

  Mo mBean……….My banshee

  Mar mo orduithe Dragon, mo ghrá……….As my dragon commands, my love

  Codladh sámh……….Sweet dreams

  Index of Romanian

  Tears for Her Dragon

  Arde……….Burn

  Rău..........Evil

  Bunătate..........Goodness

  Blestemul Mortii..........Curse of Death

  Moarte prin foc..........Death by Fire

  Proteja..........Protect

  1

  He sat on the ridge just behind the small white cottage hidden by the low limbs of the weeping willow tree as the cicadas sang their song with no idea who she was or why she meant so much to him. All the black dragon was sure of was that this was the sixth night in a row he’d been drawn to this spot to watch the raven-haired beauty through the dimly-lit windows of her home. The pull was so strong it overrode his need for vengeance, and for the first time he could remember, it filled him with something other than rage.

  The first night, the large German shepherd that never left her side had barked and scratched at the back door until the young woman finally relented and let him out. It was then Kyran heard her voice. It was then his fate was sealed. The melodic tone was mesmerizing. It penetrated the hard wall he’d built around his heart, leaving its imprint indelibly etched upon his soul. Hours later, long after she’d turned out the lights and presumably retired for the evening, the
black dragon finally gave up his vigil and walked back to the cave in the woods, longing instead to be resting with her in his arms.

  That night, images of her haunted his every dream. He heard her speak his name, felt her touch his face. The tips of her fingers memorized every nuance of his now-tattered visage, weaving a web of desire he never wanted to escape. It had been so real that upon awakening, he was shocked to find himself alone, cold, and wishing for the object of his infatuation. So here he was again, sitting in the shadows, hiding like a thief, waiting for just one look.

  Heart racing, hands clenching and unclenching, he saw her shadow through the kitchen window just before the loud click of the lock on the back door echoed through the night. Unlike all the other evenings, this time, her dog did not run toward him barking with teeth bared. Instead, the large German Shepherd stayed glued to his mistress’ side, giving only a low growl as she looked out into the yard.

  Scooting even farther into the shadows, he whispered to himself while shaking his head, “Kin she see me? Tis nae possible.”

  Holding his breath, waiting for her ritual from the nights before to resume, Kyran nearly fell face first into the wet grass as she called to him, “You might as well come on in. Duke and I know you’re there.” He could see the playful grin on her face and actually shocked himself by smiling in return. Then she spoke again and his heart raced. “I think it’s time we formally meet, don’t you?”

  Tense seconds passed. Torn between running away or continuing to hide, the black dragon finally gave into his soul’s need to be near the beautiful creature and stood. The canine she called Duke bared his teeth and snarled at Kyran’s first step forward but the young woman quickly corrected him. “No, Duke. He’s our friend.”