Shifters After Dark Box Set

by S M Reine et al.

  Giles and she both held up their stones together.

  “You still sure about me?” Lilith asked, giving him one last chance to back out.

  He smirked. “I’m going to die if we don’t do this already. I want you in every way conceivable, my wolf. No going back.”

  Lifting the necklaces, they draped them around each other’s necks and then grabbing hands, repeating in unison, “My life with yours. Forever.”

  The stones instantly glowed with an indigo radiance, the sign of truest love.

  She cupped his cheek. “And now I will show you how a wolf does it.”

  His ruby-red eyes gleamed hotly. “I’m waiting, female.”

  With a throaty growl she stepped into him and wrapped his hand around her waist. His arousal poked her hard in the thigh.

  Hungry for her mate, she nibbled onto the corner of her lip as her teeth began to slowly drop and elongate. Her wolf howled its joy deep inside her soul.

  They’d found their other half.

  “Bare your neck to me, knight. Trust me.”

  “I always do.” He tipped his jaw to the side, exposing the long length of his neck.

  Fangs fully dropped, she first traced the length of his vein with her nose, inhaling the smoked-cherry scent of his flesh. It filled her head with delicious and heady images of the two of them entwined. Then she bit him, shoving her fangs right through his vein. Not to drink from him, but to brand him as hers.

  He hissed, but his hands roamed her body and his thighs shook. Giles was enjoying it. Pulling back, she lapped at the droplet of blood that welled. Only once in her life would her fangs drop in this way: only to mark her man as hers.

  Now that she’d taken his blood into her body, it was his turn. Turning her wrist up, she shoved her fangs through the vein in her wrist. The fangs were sharp like needles, not gouging and bleeding, but drawing just a little blood from the two of them.

  Turning her wrist to his lips, she smiled. “Kiss my wound.”

  He never hesitated. Grabbing her hand, he placed a tender kiss against it. When he came up her blood was on his lips. And the moment he licked it away she shivered as the drop of his blood she’d consumed raced through her body like a shot of adrenaline.

  His eyes rolled into the back of his head as hers did the same to him.

  Then he laughed and she did, too, because she didn’t just feel her joy, she felt his. It breathed alive inside of her. His emotions were now her own and hers were his.

  His eyes widened. “I feel you, Lili.” He placed the palm of his hand against her heart.

  She did the same to him. “And I feel you. You are mine and I am yours. Whatever happens to you, will happen to me. My heart and yours, and this is truly forever, my knight.”

  Then he laid her back on the bed of moss and gently nibbled and nipped his way up her inner thigh.

  Lilith was completely exposed to him, vulnerable in a way only a mate would be and she couldn’t stop her happy tears. His teeth joined in the assault of her body and she moaned when he moved close to the very center of her.

  “I will take you, all of you, you are mine now, Lilith, and I will never let you go,” his heated whisper caressed her flesh, breaking her out in a wash of goosebumps.

  Arching her spine, she hissed when his lips finally landed on the center of her. Wild with desire and lust, she shuddered under his touch. His tongue stroked her and she shoved her fingers through his hair, writhing and keening in ecstasy.

  “Come, my love. Come for me.”

  With one final, gentle pull, she fractured apart in his arms and she felt not only the rush of her orgasm spiral through her, but she was bathed in the radiance of his joy pumping through her blood.

  Forever she would feel Giles inside of her, his emotions hers and hers his. Crawling up her body, he left a trail of wet kisses along her navel, her breasts, the column of her throat, and then finally he took her lips.

  She tasted her scent on him and grinned.

  His skin was already heating under her touch, and she couldn’t wait to bathe in the fires of his desire once again.

  “So how did I do?” he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

  She wiggled her hips on the bit of steel wrapped in velvet poking against her thigh. “Pretty darn good, knight. But now I definitely think,” she said, shifting just enough so that when she opened her thighs he slid right in, “it’s my turn to make you sing.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes squeezing shut, and planting his forehead against hers as she slowly undulated on him.

  Giles stretched her, and there’d been a sharp but very temporary burst of pain that was soon washed away in the pleasure of being taken. The glow of flame burned brightly just beneath his skin and he smiled as he circled his hips, driving deeper into her.

  Wrapping her legs around his waist, she nipped at his jawline. “I love you, my knight.”

  His arms trembled and he gave a low, sexy chuckle. “Say that one more time and I won’t be able to last.”

  Going still for just a second, feeling pleasantly stretched, she stared at him until he turned his eyes to her with a question burning in their depths.

  Then he feathered his knuckles down her cheeks. “Don’t regret this, little wolf?”

  “No.” She shook her head sharply. “Never. Do you?”

  His smile stretched from ear to ear and he shifted just enough to make the hunger inside her swell back to life.

  “Lilith, I want you to live with me, as my bride, at the castle. We can come back to your woods whenever you wish, but the thought of leaving you—”

  She covered his lips with her hands. “I was going to come whether you asked me or not. You are my pack, you are my world, knight. Where you are is home. And if you have to rush off to do whatever for Rumpel I will wait and love you no matter what.”

  He kissed her softly, languidly. Nipping at her bottom lip as he laved his tongue gently across its fullness. Moaning, she moved on him slowly, gripping his powerful biceps with her nails and marveling that this man was truly hers now, forever.

  “I will honor my prince in all things,” he said softly, “but my allegiance, my heart, and my soul, it is all yours. And Rumple may not like it, but that’s the way it is, my beautiful mate.”

  She let the words fill her heart and her soul and this time when she came he did, too, and when it was over and they lay entwined underneath a canopy of stars staring up at the brightness of the moon, they both knew that their new life would be a journey far greater than any they’d ever taken before…

  Love my books? Want to know when the next Kingdom book will be released? Make sure to sign up for my newsletter! And if you really want to get to know more about Kingdom and all the characters inside it, come hang out at the Hatter’s Harem.

  Her One Wish, which will be the next book in the Kingdom Series, will release in October of 2014! Make sure to check out my blog and newsletter for updates!

  About The Author

  Marie Hall is a NY Times and USA Today Bestselling Author who loves books that make you think, or feel something. Preferably both. And while she’s a total girly girl and loves glitter and rainbows, she’s just as happy when she’s writing about the dark underbelly of society. Well, if things like zombies, and vampires, and werewolves, and mermaids existed. (Although she has it on good authority that mermaids do in fact exist, because the internet told her so.)

  She’s married to the love of her life, a sexy beast of a caveman who likes to refer to himself as Big Hunk. She has two awesome kids, lives in Hawaii, loves cooking and occasionally has been known to crochet. She also really loves talking about herself in the third person.

  If you want to see what new creations she’s got up her sleeves check out her blog. Or contact her personally at mariehallwrites@gmail.com

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  ~ ~ ~

  Marie Hall Books

  Kingdom Series (Fairytale Romance)

  Her Mad Hat
ter (Free everywhere! Book 1 based on Alice and the Mad Hatter)

  Gerard’s Beauty (Book 2 based on Beauty and the Beast)

  Red and Her Wolf (Book 3 based on Little Red Riding Hood)

  The Kingdom Collection (Books 1-3 with bonus deleted scenes)

  Jinni’s Wish (Book 4, based on Arabian Nights)

  Hook’s Pan (Book 5, Based on Peter Pan)

  Danika’s Surprise (Book 5.5, novelette and first introduction to the upcoming Dark Princess Series)

  Kingdom Chronicles (Books 4 & 5 and includes Danika’s Surprise)

  Moon’s Flower, (Book 6 based on the legend of The Man in the Moon)

  Huntsman’s Prey, (Book 7 spinoff Dark Princess Series)

  Rumpel’s Prize, (Book 8 loosely based on the legend of Rumpelstiltskin and Beauty and the Beast)

  Hood’s Obsession, (Book 9)

  Her One Wish, (Book 10 about Jinni’s daughter and Robin Hood, coming October 2014!)

  A Pirate’s Dream, (Book 11 about Hook’s Daughter, coming soon!)

  ~ ~ ~

  Moments Series (NA Contemporary Romance)

  A Moment, Book 1 (Ryan and Liliana’s Story)

  Right Now, Book 2 (Alex and Zoe’s Story)

  This Time, Book 3 (Tor and Jamie’s Story)

  Night Series (Urban Fantasy)

  Crimson Night,- Book 1

  All Hallows Night,- Book 2

  Howler’s Night, - Book 3

  Red Rain - Book 4 (Coming Soon)

  Chaos Time Serial

  Sable

  Slayde

  Synnergy

  Eternal Lover’s Series

  Death’s Lover (Book 1) From Grand Central—Forever Yours—Publishing

  Previously published under the title The Witching Hour

  Death’s Redemption (Book 2) From Grand Central Publishing

  BLOODSICK

  (An Old World Novella)

  MELISSA F. OLSON

  Copyright © 2014 by Melissa F. Olson

  All Rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever without prior written permission by the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  MelissaFOlson.com

  This urban fantasy novella is a prequel to Melissa F. Olson’s Scarlett Bernard series. 15+

  Summary

  All her life, Sashi’s mother warned her not to get involved with werewolf problems. But Sashi, a witch who uses magic to heal sick and injured bodies, has never made a habit of ignoring trauma. When she meets an abused shapeshifter that no one else seems willing to help, Sashi will risk everything—including a budding romance—to save a woman who can’t save herself.

  1. Sashi

  Fifteen years ago

  It is seven-thirty in the morning on the first Monday of summer break, and Dr. Stephanie Noring, world-renowned oncologist at the most prestigious cancer clinic in the world, is screaming up the stairs for me to get out of bed. “Sashi!” my mother yells for the third time in as many minutes. “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Dr. Stephanie Noring is never late.

  I yawn, rolling out of my very rumpled four-poster bed in the loose jersey skirt and simple black scoop-neck tee that I put on the night before. I step into a pair of sandals and stagger out of my bedroom, leaving my long dark hair a rumpled tangle down my back. “Coming, Dr. Noring,” I mumble. “Right away, Dr. Noring.”

  “That’s not funny,” Mum snaps as she watches me stumble down the stairs. She is perfectly put together, of course, her glossy black hair tied in a neat ballerina bun, her blouse coordinated with the polish on her nails and the gemstones in her chunky gold necklace. The only jewelry I am wearing is a wristwatch and a belly button stud. “You look terrible,” she lectures. “You better not be hungover on your first day, Sashi Noring.”

  I didn’t even drink last night, but Mum wont believe me if I say so. It drives her crazy that I am twenty-one and get to control my own alcohol intake. “But my second day, I can be hungover then?” I say hopefully, and she swats my bottom.

  “Look at the wrinkles in that skirt!” Muttering under her breath, she clucks and checks her watch to see if there’s enough time to make me go change. Happily, there is not. “Car! Now!” she barks.

  The ride to the clinic is mostly silent, like most of our car rides have been since I first left for Northwestern three years ago. At a stoplight Mum hands me the hairbrush from her purse, and I dutifully run it through my hair a few times. When we are two miles from our destination, however, my mother can no longer contain herself. “You understand that you have to be subtle?” she says to me again. There is real anxiety in her voice. “If anyone finds out, I could lose my job. Or worse.”

  I think the Mayo Clinic would relocate to the moon before they fired my mother, but she is so obviously worried that I take pity and do not mention the many times we have already had this conversation. “I understand, Mum. No weird, lingering stares. No mumbling spells,” I recite. My mom glances over to see if I am being sarcastic, then nods tightly.

  “And don’t embarrass me,” she adds.

  The name “Mayo Clinic” sounds innocuous enough, but it’s really the size of a small city, with three different campuses and a huge system of tunnels and skyways here in the Minnesota location alone. I have been to the clinic hundreds of times. When I was in middle school, my mother would often have the housekeeper pick me up from school and drop me off at the massive, labyrinthine Gonda building, where I would roam around for hours waiting for Mum to be done with her patients. I know which family lounge has the best collection of YA novels, and which of the underground tunnels is typically deserted, in case one has a sudden urge to break out some cartwheels. I could find Mum’s office in the oncology ward blindfolded, but today I am actually a little nervous, because this time I am here to contribute. To the public, I am a volunteer, here to read books to pediatric cancer patients. To my mother, however, I am here to fulfill my birthright. The next step in her ultimate goal of turning me into Dr. Stephanie Noring 2.0.

  Yeah, right.

  After dropping off her purse in her office, Mum drags me straight to the first patient room. My mother starts work every morning at eight on the dot, but my volunteer shift doesn’t begin until nine, so I am supposed to shadow her for an hour, learning how she masks the real methods she uses to treat sick people. Mum introduces me in the doorway, and after the patient, Susan, consents to my presence, my mother drags a chair over to the bed, takes the woman’s hand, and asks how she feels. Susan immediately launches into a stream of details about her head, stomach, and bowel movements. Partly, she wants my mother to have every bit of knowledge that will help with her treatment. Partly she just wants someone to listen to her.

  Mum nods very seriously the whole time, looking exactly as though she’s listening, and Susan eats it up. Then, although her expression never falters, there’s a flutter of pressure in the air, signifying the use of her magic. I have to admit, I’m impressed by her subtlety. I know exactly what’s happening, though, because I can do it too.

  It’s quite literally what I was born to do.

  My mother, the witch, is telling this poor woman’s body to push on, to keep fighting the cancer. She can’t actually heal the woman, but she can nudge, suggest, encourage—like an expert gardener coaxing an exotic flower to bloom. It only takes a few minutes, and I am particularly impressed with how Mum manages to simultaneously chat with the patient about her treatment plan. I can’t hold an active conversation while I channel magic, not yet anyway.

  Then the sense of pressure dissipates, and Mum pats Susan’s hand, getting up to leave. The woman is already sitting up a little straighter in the bed, her eyes brighter than they were ten minutes earlier. I trail behind my mother as she makes her goodbyes. “Your mom is a miracle,” Susan calls out after me, beaming. My mother’s magic often gives patients th
e impression that she has good bedside service. “You must be so proud.”

  I force myself to smile.

  Two other patient visits go exactly like the first. I am a little surprised that no one objects to my presence, but I suspect most of them are being agreeable to please my mum. Many of these patients came to the Mayo Clinic specifically to be treated by my mother, so if the great Dr. Noring wants her daughter to sit in, then by God, her daughter will sit in. As we enter the fourth room, I am getting antsy and eager to start my own volunteer position. I like kids. Well, I like kids when they’re not running around bouncing off the walls they’ve just crayoned. Pediatric cancer patients are just my speed. If that sounds callous, well. Remember that I’ve spent my whole life knowing my mother prefers them to me.

  My mother sees me eyeing the clock. “This one will only take a second, and then I’ll walk you down,” she says, nodding toward one last room. “I want to say hello to…what was your volunteer coordinator’s name again? Juan-Carlos?”

  There is a certain cagey look in her eye that I know all too well. “Mum!” I whine. “Please don’t do the nepotism thing. Just let me be like all the other volunteers.”

  “But you’re not like everyone else, Sashi,” she contends. “And I certainly didn’t raise you to see yourself that way.”

  This is yet another conversation we have had so many times I barely need to be awake for it. Helping the sick is my mother’s life purpose—actually, “obsession” might be a better word. It’s the reason she had me in the first place, and what got us kicked out of London when I was a kid. And now that obsession has her thoroughly convinced that I need to be exactly like her.

  We stop in front of another door. “Give me five minutes in here, and then I can go with you,” Mum insists. “This patient is in remission; I’m just giving him his test results.”