Then, with the fierce stare of a predator looking at lunch, he turned back to Shea.
Her eyes were drawn to Colt’s drugged form again. Before Maddox could stop her, she shakily reached her hand out toward the bed. Shea bit her lip, hesitating, the tips of her fingers hovering an inch above Colt’s blanket-covered leg. Her brow furrowed. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her hand.
The instant she made contact, she let out the smallest sigh of relief. Followed by a very fierce, “Shit!”
That shook Maddox. “What just happened? Why are you touching my brother?”
The witch didn’t say anything at first. When he heard a soft, muffled snort coming from his mate, Maddox glanced back at Evangeline. Her shoulders were shaking, sudden amusement filling her forest green eyes.
His wolf let out a warning grumble. “I’m missing something and I don’t like it.”
“He’s your brother?” asked Shea. She pet Colt’s knee awkwardly before leaning into the wooden seat. “You… you look different from him.”
Maddox barely resisted the urge to shake the witch. Yeah. Of course they looked different. Maddox wasn’t half dead, Colt didn’t have a scar wrapped around his throat, and no one had ever called the elder Wolfe brother pretty. Baring his teeth at Shea, he snapped, “I’m fucking sure. That’s Colton, my younger brother. You seem to know him well enough to touch him. How?”
“Well, that’s where it gets a little bit weird. You see—” She shrugged apologetically. “I think we might be mates.”
While Evangeline let out an adorable snort mixed with laughter behind him, Maddox blinked. Once. Twice. His wolf tilted its head quizzically to the side. The man had no answers for it. He closed his eyes and, echoing Shea from before, he cursed under his breath.
Shit.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Hungry Like a Wolf!
Wow. So, I started this book as a NaNoWriMo project in 2015. I wasn’t really sure what I was going to do with it when I hit the 50k word goal that year, but I’ve always been a fan of paranormal romances, magic, ghosts and witches, and everything like that. While my Mirrorside series is full of fantasy, I’m limited to Greek mythology (which I also adore). My Hamlet series is a contemporary series full of mystery, murder, romance, and secrets. With the Claws Clause series, I wanted to create a world that would actually kind of fit seamlessly with ours today. I got the idea of the D.P.R. from a visit at the D.M.V. and the rest is history.
Because of the way this book was designed—with Maddox and Evangeline essentially having a second-chance romance in the confines of the fated mate trope—I reference to their backstory a lot. In case you didn’t know, I already wrote that story: Mates, a 25k prequel novella that shows you how they first got together three years before this book.
And, while the next book in the series is obviously Colton’s story, I also have a Christmas story that features Evangeline and Maddox that shows where they are a couple of months after this story: Of Mistletoe and Mating.
Keep clicking for a sneak peek at Colton’s book, Season of the Witch—out now!
xoxo,
Jessica
Season of the Witch
Sneak peek at the second book
Colt’s hatred of witches was legendary. Most of the witches in the area—and that didn’t include his Bumptown anymore because, well, hatred—regarded him as an enemy. Not because he ever acted on his dislike, but because his temper and his stubborn nature meant he never hid it, either.
When he was younger, it had to do with their magic. He just couldn’t understand how, with one flick of a finger or a wave of a hand, a witch could cancel out his brute strength, inch-long canines, and razor-sharp claws.
Right after the almost-fatal car crash, when the truck carrying Maddox and Evangeline toward their honeymoon careened off the mountain, Maddox got thrown into the Cage. Every time Colt visited his brother over the last three years, he was only reminded that witches were a traitor to other Paras.
The paranormal prison was warded. Witches. The glass partition separating the brothers in the visitors’ room was enchanted to be Para-proof. Witches. The covens were even responsible for the silver collars used to leash the shifters locked inside. Even after Maddox was freed, the ring of ruined skin remained, the terrible scars a memento of his time forced into the silver collar.
Fucking witches.
Then Priscilla had ruined Maddox’s life, broken Evangeline, and tried to murder Colt when he confronted her. The lone witch was twisted, obsessed with the idea that she could use her witchcraft to create a bond with Maddox. Cilla thought magic could trump fate; with enough diamonds, she could get rid of her competition and make herself Maddox’s mate instead.
He had hundreds of reasons to hate witches, and his family wondered why he just couldn’t accept one as a mate?
He might’ve been able to get over his knee jerk reaction about falling in lust at first sight with a stranger—he was a shifter and, unfortunately, finding his mate had long been a possibility even if he’d never actually looked—but a witch?
No.
No.
Not even one as kind and as sweet and as caring as his.
Now, when it came to Nightwalkers, he wasn’t alone in his dislike. Of all the different types of paranormals—shifters, vamps, phantoms, witches, and othersiders—Nightwalkers were universally despised. They were dead, though they didn’t appear that way except for their strangely silver eyes and their pale skin. As a whole, the turned race of vampires were vicious and cruel, their lusts only tempered by their blood-drinking and, if they could find one, their betrothed.
Not many people wanted to tie themselves to a Nightwalker unless they liked to be used as a pincushion. A Nightwalker could offer pleasure with its bite, but there was a cost. Non-Nightwalkers could grow addicted to the high a Nightwalker could offer, becoming a Donor who existed solely to give blood and wait for their next fix. A Donor only loved the feeling, never the corpse; they could never be a vampire’s blood-bonded mate.
In the past, most Nightwalkers were solitary by nature, only relying on the humans they could feed from. Since Paras were forced out into the open, individual Para quirks were more tolerated. Sure, the drinking had to be done behind closed doors, but nowadays there were synthetic blood shops and blood banks even in mixed towns.
There were even a couple of Nightwalkers living in his Bumptown; not many, since there was definitely something in their make-up that made them more reclusive than other Paras.
They settled together in a corner referred to as Little Transylvania. Though Colt was abso-fucking-lutely positive that the vamps in his Bumptown didn’t have anything to do with the bodies, he decided to run past their hidden corner and sniff around after he made it back to the Bumptown.
His wolf needed the exercise. And Colt needed to focus on something that wasn’t Shea Moonshadow.
To make matters worse, right before he left, his mother had cornered him to ask if she would see him Thursday for dinner. Before he could snap at Maddox for involving their parents, he put two and two together and realized that Thursday—the day Maddox wanted him over to eat—was Thanksgiving.
No wonder Dodge had looked at him like he was an idiot for not understanding why Maddox was pushing the whole family dinner thing.
His mother was waiting for Colt to finally make Shea his mate in truth. She wanted her boys to settle down and nagged in that loving way Sarah Wolfe was known for. Luckily, Terrence stepped in and told his mate that Colt wasn’t a pup anymore.
When Sarah snapped her teeth at her mate—the only member of the pack who could challenge the Alpha without it being a true challenge—Colt tucked his tail between his legs and dashed out the back door.
He narrowly missed running into Ralph, waving off the unnecessary offer of a ride back into town before he kicked off his shoes and shifted on the spot. His t-shirt and jeans exploded into tatters as the over-sized, white arctic wolf appeared where the boyi
shly handsome twenty-seven-year-old Colt had been seconds before.
He ran the entire way home. Sure, he’d have to find a way to get his truck back tomorrow, pick up his discarded boots, too, but that was tomorrow.
Tonight was for his wolf.
Of the two Wolfe brothers, Colt had always been the most in tune with his beast. Not lately. Both halves of him were locked in a constant battle as they fought over his… his mate.
Five months later and Colt couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He couldn't stop fantasizing about her, either.
Shit.
Just as he crossed onto the wooded land that surrounded the perimeter of his Bumptown, he couldn’t hold back any longer. In mid-stride, the wolf shifted back to his two-legged shape, revealing a very naked, very aroused male.
That wasn’t so unusual. From the moment he woke up in his bed and discovered that she was there, that she was touching him, that she knew she was his mate, Colt struggled to deal with his hard-on. It was like his damn cock had a mind of its own. No matter how Colt tried to convince himself that he wasn’t going to mate her—that he couldn’t—his cock went stiff at just the slightest thought of her.
Her curls.
Her smile.
Her tits.
The head bobbed, pointed skyward as Colt went down on his knees. It was cold out, November on the east coast, and he felt the chill like a caress on his overheated skin. How many times had he stroked himself, praying for some relief, wishing he could tame his wayward cock without going to Shea and sacrificing his stubborn pride?
Finding another woman was out of the question. He couldn’t have Shea—he was too stubborn, too hard-headed, and he’d lost any chance of getting inside of her a long time ago. No matter what, though, she was his true mate. The one fate picked out for him. He couldn’t have Shea, but he wouldn’t take anyone else.
So he jerked off. A lot. Considering how many times he’d brought himself to come in the last five months, it amazed him that he’d never masturbated before he found Shea. Male shifters couldn’t even get an erection until they chanced upon their true mate—another reason why he knew Shea was supposed to be his—and it seemed as if he was making up for lost time.
Taking just a second to make sure no one else was close enough to see what he was doing, Colt wrapped his hand around his shaft. It was hot, it was hard, and a bead of pre-cum was already forming at the tip of the mushroom-shaped head.
He gave it a vicious tug, then another, every rough stroke like another punishment. He refused to find any type of gratification in the act. It was another biological urge, one he didn’t have the strength to ignore. When the friction started to burn, he increased the pace, throwing back his head and moaning when the quick jolt of pleasure overtook the pain.
Come spurted out on the frozen grass. He wiped his hand against his bare ass, chest heaving in the brisk night air. His cock twitched, still semi-hard, and he took a deep breath, struggling for control.
He took a deep breath and snuffled back through his nose.
He’d been too preoccupied with his quick orgasm to use his nose. When his ears and his wolf assured him that he was the only living creature around him, he left it at that. The deep breath he just took? The stench of carrion, of rotten meat, blood, and death that nearly slapped him in the face… he was right.
He was the only living thing around.
Nightwalkers stunk like that. Once you caught your first whiff of the dead vampires, you never forgot it. Only… he wasn’t anywhere near Little Transylvania.
Colt shifted back to his wolf, choosing fur over bare skin. Not that he gave a shit if someone caught him with his cock out when he wasn’t tugging on it. Shifters always came back from their animal shape without any clothes on. Far as he was concerned, nudity was definitely more of a human hang-up.
But, as he dashed over the wooded terrain, four paws were faster than two legs. His wolf lifted its muzzle high, tasting the blood in the air, following it to the edge of the boundary that butted up against Colt’s immediate territory.
His wolf kept its mouth open, tongue lolling as he sampled the scents, processing them. It belonged to a Nightwalker, one who was long gone and unfamiliar to him. But… that wasn’t the only scent he caught as he got closer.
Human. That was a human female scent wafting toward him, nearly covered up by the copious amounts of blood.
He spurred his wolf to go faster.
Available Now
Season of the Witch
I won’t—
Colton Wolfe has never liked witches.
There’s something about their magic. With a snap of a finger, a witch can cancel out his brute strength, razor-sharp claws, and inch-long fangs. It just isn’t natural. The Para-proof wards constructed by witches always made his fur itch, and it has bothered him for years how they betrayed all paranormals by selling their services to the highest bidders.
Then a witch nearly killed him and his dislike turned into full-blown hate.
His brother thinks his anger is unhealthy. Following his brush with near-death, Colt refuses to even talk to any packmates. Dodge, his best friend and a ghost, can’t even get through to him. Colt keeps himself confined to his workshop, shutting every one out. His wolf is just about rabid and he keeps his beast locked up tight.
His wolf wants its mate. Colt won’t admit it, but he does, too.
Only Shea is a witch.
And Colt hates all witches—
Doesn’t he?
I can’t—
Shea Moonshadow is a healer first, a witch second. Considering her magic has a way of backfiring on her whenever she tries the simplest of spells, she sticks with what she knows will work. Her herbs and her poultices have never failed her before.
Now if she could only say the same about her brother.
Hudson is a Donor, a blood junkie who gives blood to vampires in exchange for a high only a dangerous Nightwalker can give. When he gets in over his head, he does what he’s always done: runs to Shea for help.
She can’t say no. She’s never been able to say no.
Not to Hudson.
Not to anyone.
And that’s how she finds herself pledged to a blood-bonding with an obsessed vampire.
When a dangerous group of Paras move in on Colt’s territory, going after humans and paranormals alike, the Grayson Police Department recruit him to take on the vicious Nightwalkers. If it’s bad enough that Colt gets saddled with an old enemy, it’s even worse when he discovers that his almost-mate is in it up to her adorable purple eyes.
He might’ve put off claiming his mate. But no way in hell is Colt—or his wolf—going to let some Nightwalker scum take Shea away from him.
* Season of the Witch is the second full-length novel in the Claws Clause series. It’s the story of a grumpy wolf shifter hero and the sassy witch who has cast a spell over him. With danger, intrigue, and heart, watch as Colton submits to the one woman meant for him.
Available February 14, 2020
* * *
Out Now!
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About the Author
Jessica lives in New Jersey with her family, including enough pets to cement her status as the neighborhood’s future Cat Lady. She spends her days working in retail, and her nights lost in whatever world the current novel she is working on is set in. After writing for fun for more than a decade, she has finally decided to take some of the stories out of her head and put them out there for others who might also enjoy them! She loves Broadway and the Mets, as well as reading in her free time.
JessicaLynchWrites.com
cursetheflame@gma
il.com
Also by Jessica Lynch
Welcome to Hamlet
Don’t Trust Me
You Were Made For Me*
Ophelia
Let Nothing You Dismay
I’ll Never Stop
Wherever You Go
Here Comes the Bride
Gloria
Tesoro
That Girl Will Never Be Mine
* * *
Welcome to Hamlet: I-III**
No Outsiders Allowed: IV-VI**
* * *
Mirrorside
Tame the Spark*
Stalk the Moon
Hunt the Stars
The Witch in the Woods
Hide from the Heart
* * *
The Other Duet**
* * *
The Claws Clause
Mates*
Hungry Like a Wolf
Of Mistletoe and Mating
No Way
Season of the Witch
Rogue
Sunglasses at Night
Ghost of Jealousy
* * *
Curse of the Othersiders
Angel Wings
* * *
Touched by the Fae
Favor*
Asylum
Shadow
Touch
Zella
* * *
The Shadow Prophecy**
* * *
Imprisoned by the Fae
Tricked*
Trapped
Escaped
Hungry Like a Wolf Page 33