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Meine Freundin ist ein Werwolf

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Book Cover: Meine Freundin ist ein Werwolf
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Part of the Moonstruck Mating series:
  • Meine Freundin ist ein Werwolf
  • Mein Freund markiert Bäume
  • Mein Freund beißt gern

Ich habe ihn geleckt. Er gehört mir.

Es passiert Derek nicht jeden Tag, dass er einem merkwürdigen weißen Wolf über den Weg läuft. Genauso wenig, wie eine nackte – und wunderhübsche – Frau allein im Park zu finden. War der Wolf nur ein Omen für das, was noch kommen soll? Denn seitdem er Athena getroffen hat, steht Dereks Leben Kopf.

Obwohl Athena von Gangstern gejagt wird und eine Prämie auf ihren

Kopf ausgesetzt wurde, verrät sie nicht, warum jemand hinter ihr her ist. Doch Derek hilft ihr trotzdem, da er ein Gentleman ist und sie außerdem seine Neugierde – und andere Dinge – erregt. Außerdem soll er verdammt sein, wenn irgendein gieriger Arzt unschuldige Leute entführt und an ihnen herumexperimentiert.

Doch er kann nicht umhin, Athenas großartigen Geruchssinn, ihre Vorliebe für die Kaninchenjagd und die Art und Weise, wie sie an jedem Vollmond verschwindet, zu bemerken …

Wie es scheint, hat Athena ein haariges Geheimnis.

Und was für eins.

Vielleicht sollte er sich lieber einen Vorrat an Flohhalsbändern und Leckerlis zulegen, denn seine Freundin ist ein Werwolf.

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Published: 2024-10-17
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Translators:
Noëlle-Sophie Niederberger für Daniela Mansfield Translations
Genres:
german, translation
Tags:
german/deutsche
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My Boyfriend Bites

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Part of the A Moonstruck Mating series:
  • My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
  • My Boyfriend Marks Trees
  • My Boyfriend Bites
  • A Moonstruck Mating Books 1 – 3

She’s not the only one who likes to nibble.


Selene’s spent her entire life keeping her emotions in check to avoid wolfing out in public. She’s single, but not by choice. Not many men can handle a woman who turns furry on the full moon—and every time her adrenaline gets pumping. She’s just about given up on love when she meets Dante.

The insufferable man is on the same cruise as her and, for some reason, pursues her. As if she’d ever date a womanizer. Despite her issues with keeping her lycan side leashed, Selene is holding out for love with a nice guy, not some rich Italian playboy with suits that cost more than her entire wardrobe. However, Dante is tenacious, and when pirates board the ship, he proves to be more courageous than expected.

Those scurvy scoundrels chose the wrong Valentine’s Day party to crash, and as the bodies begin to pile up, it soon becomes obvious that the ferocious Selene isn’t the only one chomping on bad guys.

Here’s to hoping by the time the cruise ends, Cupid gives her the one thing she’s been longing for; a lover who won’t mind if she growls—and bites—in bed.

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Published: 2025-02-06
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Genres:
Holiday Romance, Holiday Romance, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shapeshifter Romance, vampire romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

To-Do Day 1: Get to the airport. Remember to go potty before the flight. And don’t wolf out on the plane, even if the person beside you manspreads.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else? I think you forgot to pack the kitchen sink.” Selene’s brother, Ares, teased as he lugged her overstuffed carry-on roller to the curb at the airport departures drop-off area.

“You’re the one making me go,” she grumbled.

A year and a bit after a holiday trip found itself cancelled due to inclement weather, Selene was finally going on her cruise—minus her mother. Not her choice. She liked hanging with her mom, but apparently, as a new grandma, her mom had a duty to spoil. Selene argued an aunt had the same right; however, her family insisted she go and booked her into an adults-only voyage that coincided with Valentine’s Day.

“It will be romantic,” big sis, Athena, claimed.

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As if Selene needed help getting laid. Men hit on her all the time, but Selene had a secret, a big hairy one, that tended to poke its nose out when she got aroused, making it almost impossible for anyone to get close.

Mom kept saying one day Selene would meet “the one,” and she’d know. She sure hoped so because she was beginning to feel like a third wheel every time she hung out with her siblings, who’d both found their perfect mate.

“This will be good for you. You’ve been spending way too much time cooped up on the farm,” Ares stated, not for the first time.

Apparently, her family noticed she’d been going out less and less. Not her fault. She’d been finding it harder of late to keep the positive attitude that kept her wolf inside her skin.

“Not true. I went into the city just last week.”

“To pick up some supplies for your rabbits. A trip to the store and back isn’t going out.” Ares shook his head.

He probably had a point, but Selene wouldn’t admit it. “I’ll miss you, guys.” Her family was her entire world. She lived on the farm with her mom and brother, as well as his new wife and daughter, whom he’d adopted. Her sister, Athena, visited often with her hubby, Derek, along with their little bundle of joy, Apollo, a chubby-faced baby with a dark tuft of hair.

“We’ll miss you too. And don’t worry, we’ll text you every day.”

“To harass me and make sure I’m socializing,” she grumbled.

“Yup.” He didn’t even deny it. He dragged her in for a hug, and her eyes misted. She’d never traveled alone before. Never actually travelled, truth be told. But she could do this. People boarded planes and went on cruises all the time.

It would be fine.

She hoped.

The plane to Orlando took just under four hours, and lucky her, the guy beside her slept the entire time and kept his limbs to himself. Once she collected her luggage, she boarded a shuttle bus the cruise provided, which brought them to port just before sunset. The ship wouldn’t be sailing until seven, a late departure compared to most itineraries. She wondered if it had to do with the recent rumor about another cruise line. According to social media, a ship with more than a thousand souls had run into pirates.

Actual pirates! The miscreants were said to have not only robbed the passengers, but they’d supposedly killed a few, too. Or so it was assumed, since the ship appeared to be missing some people when it docked, including the captain.

True? Hard to know since the news media outlets didn’t appear to be carrying the story. It didn’t deter Selene, though. After all, in the books she read, pirates could be dashing heroes who swept a woman off her feet. And if it turned out to be the other kind… He’d soon regret his life choices when her wolf bit off a body part.

As she stood in line with her luggage, doing that slow shuffle as each person in front of her fumbled to put all their items on the security belt, it struck her that most of the passengers milling about were her mom’s age. Or, in other words, more than twice Selene’s. That didn’t bode well, especially since she noticed the elderly couple standing behind had pineapples and unicorns plastered all over their carry-ons. Nervous for her first single’s cruise, she’d done her research ahead of time and learned that there were ways people advertised what they were looking for in a potential hookup. The pineapple and unicorn specifically indicated the over-sixties pair sought a female to join them for adult fun. When they smiled at Selene and asked if she’d like to meet them for a drink that evening, she politely declined. Yikes. Was this a cruise for older swingers?

Maybe she’d just stay in her room with a book and order in food. Of course, the moment she thought it she remembered her mother’s rebuke, “Don’t you dare hermit yourself on board! This is your chance to let loose. Go a little wild.”

Mom meant well, but she had no idea that if Selene went wild, people might get hurt. Then again, Mom didn’t know how bad the problem had gotten. Selene’s control over her lycan side had gotten worse in the past few years, but she’d kept it to herself, not wanting to worry her family.

As she hefted her roller bag up for screening and placed her purse and shoes in a bin, she noticed a pair of large German shepherds sniffing people and their bags. Drug dogs. She didn’t have any narcotics but, given her lycan heritage, wasn’t surprised when she stepped through the metal detector and was met by the dogs barking in her direction. Even worse, one of the canines broke loose and ran at Selene, snarling and snapping.

As the dog neared, Selene crouched and met its gaze with a firm one of her own. It skidded in surprise, trying to halt its momentum before dropping to its belly. It crawled forward, whining, and Selene cooed, “Who’s a pretty puppy?”

The shepherd rolled to its back and lolled its tongue.

The dog’s handler snared the leash but, rather than thinking the belly rubs were cute, snapped, “Ma’am, are you carrying any illegal substances?”

“No, sir.” Selene remained polite. “Dogs just have a thing for me.”

“This unit is specially trained to detect contraband,” the agent barked.

“Oh, I don’t do drugs. At all. I don’t even like taking Tylenol,” she gushed, trying to keep her anxiety in check.

“In that case, you have nothing to worry about. If you’ll step over here for a moment so we can search your person and belongings to be sure.” The dog handler inclined their head in the direction of a cubicle set up to provide privacy for those pulled aside.

Holding in a sigh, Selene collected her belongings and resigned herself to being strip-searched and questioned. Hopefully it wouldn’t involve latex gloves and probing.

To her surprise, before she’d taken a step, a deep voice with a slight accent said, “That won’t be necessary. She’s with me.”

The agent scowled. “We’re supposed to thoroughly check over anyone that triggers the dogs.”

“Just mention in your report that the dog went to her because she had treats in her pocket.”

“She had treats,” muttered the handler.

Selene blinked, because she most certainly didn’t. However, whoever this guy was, he obviously had some clout since the man with the dog went off to inspect those farther down the line.

She glanced at the handsome man in the posh suit. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m not carrying any drugs.”

“I didn’t figure you were. However, no one wants to start their holiday molested and put through the wringer.”

Her lips twitched. “Don’t be so sure. It would have been the most action I’ve gotten in a while.”

Her riposte had him smiling, and damn, he certainly was attractive. “A lady with a sense of humor. I look forward to getting to know you better once we’re on board,” he said with a smile and a wink.

A shiver went through her. Maybe this cruise wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Might as well introduce herself. “I’m Selene.” She held out her hand.

He clasped it, his grip firm, if chillier than expected given the warm climate. “Dante.”

“As in The Inferno?” she quipped, having read the poem by Dante Alighieri while in college.

“Yes, as a matter of fact. My mother quite liked Dante’s poetry and named me after him.”

“My mother preferred gods and goddesses.”

“So you are Selene, deity of the moon.”

“Correct.” She cocked her head. “And you’re on this cruise?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because this doesn’t look like your type of crowd.” She waved a hand at the people waiting to check in for their voyage.

“And what type of crowd do I belong with?” he asked with an arched brow.

“Sorry. That came out wrong. It’s just, you’re in a nice suit, and well, the rest of us are dressed like the tropics puked on us.” She gestured to her white capris and flowered blouse.

The comment made him laugh. “While I’ll admit my wardrobe is not as flamboyant, I do enjoy a nice ocean cruise from time to time. It’s a change of pace from my daily life. What of you? Why are you going? Romantic getaway?”

“Goodness, no. I’m here because my family is hoping I’ll meet someone.” She rolled her eyes. “Only, the odds aren’t looking too good, given a good chunk of the passengers are around my mom’s age.”

“You don’t date older people?”

“There’s a few years older, and then there’s decades.”

“Age is but a number. I’d think that common interests and attraction would be more important,” he stated.

“This might sound rude, but I’d prefer to be with someone who won’t call my generation’s music noise and who doesn’t need to pop a pill for sexy times.”

His laughter brought more shivers to her body. He flashed white teeth, the front canines more pronounced than the rest as he said, “You are quite frank.”

“A fault of mine,” she chirped. “Probably why I’m still single.”

“More likely the men you’ve met have been idiots.”

“Are you here with your partner?” she asked.

“Nope. Single like you, but perhaps this cruise will change that.”

“You’re too pretty to not have a girlfriend,” she blurted out. Blame her racing pulse for being flustered.

“I could say the same of you. You are also very attractive.”

“I am”—she wasn’t about to be coy—“but I don’t get out often. When you live and work on a farm, it’s hard to meet people.”

“Whereas I am usually surrounded by those impressed by my wealth. It makes for less than authentic relationships.”

“You’re rich?” Again, her mouth ran away before her brain could stop it.

“Very,” his dry reply.

“And you’re on this cruise?” She glanced at the banner of hearts hung over the check-in desk. Tacky to the extreme.

“As are you.”

“Only because I can’t afford anything better. Shouldn’t you be on, like, one of those luxury yachts?”

“Surrounded by snobby elites?”

“As opposed to swinging grandmas and grandpas?” she countered.

Once more, his deep laugh emerged. “Please say you will join me this evening for a drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

“It doesn’t have to be alcohol.”

“I’d planned to stay in my room tonight and relax. It’s been a long day. Perhaps we can meet for breakfast when I’m refreshed.”

“Doubtful, as I’m more of a night person. Shall we say, dinner tomorrow?”

Dinner with a stranger? Her first impulse? Say no. But that would defeat the purpose of the cruise. “Sure. Why not.”

“The line’s moving,” he stated. To her surprise, he lifted her suitcase, and in doing so, she noticed his lack of one.

“Where’s your stuff?” she asked as he carried it by the handle rather than rolling it.

“I left it with the porter.”

“I’d hate that.”

“Why?”

“I just like knowing where my stuff has been.” She’d rather not have to wonder who might have opened her bag and touched her undergarments.

“What stateroom did they assign you?” he asked.

“Something on the seventh with a sea terrace.”

“I’m on the twelfth.”

“Those are the luxury suites with deluxe verandahs,” she commented, her eyes widening. Yeah, this guy had money. She’d seen those rooms on the cruise website and the price tag had blown her mind.

“Ah, no verandah. I’m in an interior room.”

“As in, no windows?” She shuddered.

His lips quirked. “A cruise is about spending time out and about.”

“Says you. I brought a few books to tackle.”

“And you don’t plan on taking them with you to a nice chair near the pool?”

“I’d rather read in peace and quiet.”

“What about your family’s decree you find a romantic partner?” Dante asked as a check-in agent called him up.

“I’m not thinking I’ll have much luck given the demographics,” she answered as she stepped up to the agent next to his and handed over her ticket and passport.

“Should I be hurt you’re not considering me?”

She blinked at Dante. “Um, no offense, but it’s quite obvious we’re not in the same league.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Fairly sure your suit costs more than my entire wardrobe.”

He glanced down. “What can I say? I like quality.”

“And I like stuff on sale,” she stated as the crew member handed her a bracelet that would give her access to her room plus the amenities included with her ticket.

“Why do I get the impression you are the type of woman that, on a date, would insist on paying for her portion?”

Her cheek dimpled. “Depends on the man I’m having dinner with.”

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind about joining me this evening?”

Tempting… but at the same time, there was something a little odd about Dante. Mainly his interest in her. The man oozed charm and wealth and had looks galore. Why would he be so focused on her? She might be decent looking, but they were obviously vastly different and not just in social status. It didn’t help he came across as a womanizer. What other kind of man flirted with a woman waiting in line? He’d soon forget about her once on board and got to pick from a wider assortment of ladies.

“Not tonight. Sorry.” She apologized, not because she truly regretted, but because it was the proper Canadian thing to do.

“Then dinner tomorrow for sure. Say seven p.m. in La Maisonette.”

“I don’t think my cruise pass will let me.” She’d paid for the basic meal package, meaning no reservations at the upscale restaurants.

“Just tell the maître d’ that you’re dining with Dante. They’ll allow you entry.”

“Bending the rules before we’ve even left shore?” she stated as they bypassed the embarkation photographer and scanned themselves through the covered gangway to board.

“Always.” He smiled, and if she were any other girl, it would have likely charmed the panties right off her. As it was, he certainly had her blood heating. Not good, as it had her wolf stirring.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at seven then.” Not entirely a lie. She might go, she might not. He’d more than likely forget about her by the time dinner rolled around.

“I shall count the hours. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some matters to attend. But it was a distinct pleasure meeting you, Selene.”

“Ditto,” she chirped.

As Selene stepped into the glitzy lobby of the ship, she parted ways with Dante, resisting the urge to look back. She wasn’t the type of woman who cared if a man checked her out. Usually.

This time, though, something about Dante had her more flushed than usual. Her heart raced, and she found herself inwardly grinning.

After all, who didn’t like a handsome rich man flirting with them?

It sure beat the couple across the hall from her, who leered as she let herself into her room.

True to her word, she unpacked, enjoyed a room service pizza, read her book, and didn’t emerge again until breakfast.

Chapter 2

Through the fiery caverns tumultuous seas we sail.

Dante eyed the change to the poem. It flowed nicely and seemed more apt than the original words to Inferno. Although, the seas had yet to toss them about. But his emotions were certainly aroused.

When he’d skulked about the port, he’d done so observing those boarding. He’d certainly not expected to meet the delightful Selene. A charming woman in her mid-twenties, with a trim figure, pert attitude, and a scent that had him salivating.

Despite his intrigue, he couldn’t forget his real reason for being there. The cruise wasn’t about pleasure but business, a reminder that didn’t ease his distraction. Especially since the lovely Selene had rejected his offer to meet for a drink. Unheard of. Usually, Dante only had to ask and people simply obeyed. But then again, Selene wasn’t like other folk. He could smell the special difference, hence why he’d intervened in the security area.

“Sir.” His assistant cleared his throat. “The passenger list, as requested.”

A smart and focused Dante would have told Renard to take the list away. Instead, Dante held out his hand for the printout. “Thank you, Rennie.”

“May I ask what you’re looking for?”

“I met a passenger.”

“That does happen on a cruise, sir,” his assistant’s dry retort.

“I’m aware. She’s different.”

“Oh. How so?” Rennie asked, entirely too casual. He’d been with Dante long enough to know it took much to pique his interest.

“Let’s just say she and I have some things in common.” Like the fact the humans aboard would arm themselves with pitchforks and torches if they found out who they sailed with.

“She’s a vampire?” Rennie couldn’t hide his shock.

“No. A lycan.” Almost as rare as his kind. Being eternally hunted had a tendency of causing that. Never mind the fact humans had most aspects about his species wrong. Kind of like they misunderstood werewolves.

“A wolf on board? I can see why you’re concerned. Do you want me to handle it?” Rennie often dealt with small threats on his own, despite knowing Dante could protect himself perfectly fine.

“She has no idea what I am.” Lycans could and did pass him in the street, never realizing Dante’s difference. It took a very fine nose to scent his state of being, let alone recognize what it meant.

“But you’re worried she’ll figure it out.”

“Not really. Even if she figures it out, so what? She won’t out me, not without worrying she’ll reveal herself.”

Rennie frowned. “Then why are you checking her out?” Asked because he could see Dante on his laptop doing a search.

“I’m curious about her. She claims she came alone.”

“Wait, you’re interested in her as a paramour?” Rennie gasped.

“She’s very attractive,” Dante stated as he found her name on the list and poked it. “There she is. Selene McMurray, deck seven, just as she said.” It was nice to know that she hadn’t lied, though he wouldn’t have blamed her for not wanting a stranger to know where she slept.

“Making her a commoner.” Rennie almost sneered saying it.

“So are you.”

“Not trying to bang you, sir.”

The riposted curved Dante’s lips. “Neither is she. She refused to meet me for a drink tonight.”

“The horror!” Rennie mocked. “Maybe she’s not into sausage.”

The term had him snorting. “Oh, she likes men, no doubt about that.” The pheromones she’d oozed during their encounter made that very clear.

“She’s married then.”

“Nope. Single and on this cruise to meet guys.”

“Then I don’t understand. Why did she say no? Is she meeting up with some girlfriends?”

“Apparently, she wanted to unpack and read.”

“Read!” Rennie blinked and laughed. “Rejected for a book. Guess you should have whammied her. Then again, you weren’t expecting her to say no. Don’t think that’s ever happened before.”

No, it didn’t, but even more astonishing… “I did try and persuade her after she first turned me down. It failed to have any effect.” A vampire, much like a Jedi, could play mind tricks. Although, the stronger the mind, the more effort it took. In Selene’s case, though, it didn’t matter how hard he pushed; she simply did not fall under his spell.

“She’s immune to vampire charm?” Rennie didn’t hide his astonishment.

“She is.”

“I didn’t know the lycans had that ability.”

“They don’t.” He’d encountered enough of them to know.

“Are you going to tell her what you are?”

“No.” He’d learned his lesson a long time ago. While many women romanticized the notion of a vampire, most couldn’t handle the reality of it. AKA his diet. Unlike some of the modern adaptations, he couldn’t drain animals alone to sustain himself. He needed human blood. That said, though, he still could partake and digest human food. It just didn’t provide the nutritional value he required. That, and he hated vegetables.

“Sounds like you’re planning to spend time with her.”

“She’s meeting me for dinner tomorrow.”

Rennie arched a brow. “Since when do you go on dinner dates?”

“Since she doesn’t drink.” A surprise. It was rare to find someone who didn’t.

“You do realize it’s going to look odd if you order your food rare with minimal side dishes.”

“Not these days. The carnivore movement is gaining momentum.”

“You seem very set on seeing this woman again.”

“I am.”

“Might I remind you, we came on this trip for a specific reason.”

“I can investigate while still indulging in my curiosity about Selene.”

Rennie sighed. “If you insist.”

“You’re awfully impertinent this evening,” Dante pointed out.

“Aren’t you the one always telling me to speak my mind?”

He had. “Sometimes you do that a little too well,” Dante grumbled.

His assistant grinned. “Only because you taught me how.”

Renard had been introduced to Dante at a young age, and he’d taken a shine to the spunky young lad who’d survived some horrific abuse before Dante rescued him. Dante had been after a meal, and he’d feasted on what should have been a childless couple, only to find Rennie locked in the basement. Chained to a wall, half-starved. When Dante removed him, he’d meant to drop him off at a police station. Instead, he’d brought the young boy home, had him educated, bathed, and then trained to be his assistant when Rennie grew to be a young man who refused to leave his side.

“I’m going to take a walk and familiarize myself with the ship.”

“No spying on the woman,” Rennie warned.

“Would I do that?”

“Yes,” the blunt reply. “There’s a difference between flirting and creeping. If you want this woman to like you, then you don’t want her to catch you playing Peeping Tom.”

“As if she’d catch me,” Dante scoffed.

“She’s lycan, meaning she’s got more acute senses, so don’t be stupid.” A pause. “Sir.”

“Impertinent. I don’t know why I pay you,” Dante groused as he slid on a woolen sweater. The evening air at sea could get cool.

“You pay me because I am awesome.”

“And not conceited one bit.”

“That’s priceless coming from the master.”

Dante shook his head as he opened the door. “It’s not conceited if it’s true.”

With that, Dante left his stateroom and stepped into the hallway. Some might find it odd that a luxurious suite existed without outdoor access. However, it was the safest way for him to enjoy the ship, and vampires did so love to cruise. An all-you-can-eat buffet at the fang tips.

Drunken passengers never remembered the guy who’d had a suckle on their neck or nipped an inner thigh. When they woke weak the next day, they assumed a hangover and not blood loss.

Dante strolled from his floor to the section of the ship with all the nighttime action. Music blasted, the pulsing beat monotonous even when the song changed. A brief moment in the first club, which encouraged dancing, showed a good-sized crowd, many of them with flushed cheeks and too-bright eyes.

Despite a good many patrons being of a more mature age, there still remained plenty in their twenties and thirties of both sexes. When it came to food, Dante didn’t have a gender preference. However, with sex? He was as straight as they came.

A stroll through the party area showed a few prospects, but no Selene. Had she truly gone to her room for the night and not just fed him that line so as to avoid him?

With Rennie’s chiding ringing in his ears, Dante stalked to the seventh, his pace slow and measured as he neared her door.

From across her room, a couple exited their chamber, the wife biting her lip. “I don’t think she’s interested, Harry.”

The corpulent fellow blustered, “Please. I saw how she looked at us. She’s hot to trot. Why else would she be on an adults-only cruise?”

“She doesn’t have any stickers on her door,” the woman pointed out, unlike theirs covered in pineapples and flamingoes and unicorns plus a few that were definitely meant to be provocative. Dante shook his head. If a guy ever ended up with an eggplant-looking dick, he should see a doctor. Although, women’s peaches were sweet.

“Can’t hurt to ask.” As the man lifted his fist to knock on Selene’s door, Dante pursed his lips. It wouldn’t do to be caught in the hall by Selene. She’d think him a creeper for sure. At the same time, he wondered if she would even reply.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No one came to the door, and Harry, of the red-veined nose and heavy gut, huffed, “Guess she’s out partying. Come on, Mary. Let’s go get ourselves a drink.”

Harry lumbered off, and Mary followed, moving past Dante, who oozed a don’t-look vibe.

Once they left, he headed for Selene’s door. She’d gone out. Where? Could he pick up her trail?

A vampire had a decent sense of smell. He could pick up aromas, pheromones if you will, that others couldn’t. It allowed him to recognize a human versus other preternatural beings.

As he neared her door, he had trouble splitting Selene’s scent from all the others that passed through. Meaning either she’d not left, or she’d exited her room a while ago.

He stepped silently to her door and put an ear to it.

Light music played, and he heard a sigh. She remained in her room, but was she alone? For some reason, he had to know.

Dante could have knocked and had her ask how he knew where to find her. Or… He made his way to the far end of the hall, exiting and then emerging on a tiny section of deck at the aft of the ship. Stairs went up and down. He went over the railing, holding tight, mind you. Even he had no interest in landing in the cold dark ocean below. And, no, he couldn’t turn into a bat. A shame. Flying would have been a useful trick.

He slid his way along the outside of the railing, counting terrace doors until he reached one with a light that should be Selene’s. He hopped onto her balcony and clung to the shadowy partition that separated her outdoor space from the cabin alongside. She’d only partially drawn the drapes, allowing him to peek inside.

An all-alone Selene lay on the bed on her belly, reading a book. No glass of booze nearby, just a bottle of water and a bag of cheese puffs.

Hunh. He’d not seriously expected her to do exactly as she’d claimed. Who came on a cruise to stay in their room and read?

Apparently, this woman did.

Abruptly, she rolled and stretched before rising, her skimpy shorts revealing lean legs, her T-shirt clinging to her braless breasts. As she approached the sliding door, he silently cursed before flinging himself over the rail and quickly slipping onto the terrace next door. He stood and listened as she exited, heard her exhale, and then draw in a deep breath of night air.

But it was her murmur that excited.

“Even out here, it’s like I can still smell you.” She sighed. “Maybe I should have joined you for a drink.”

Yes, she should have.

“Bah. I’m a fool. Talking to myself about a guy who probably forgot me the moment we met.”

As if she could be so simply discarded.

“Question is, do I go to dinner tomorrow?”

Yes.

“I’ll feel like a fool if I show up and he’s surprised to see me.”

How could you think that?

“He’s way too pretty.”

Thank you.

“Probably better if I forget about him.”

Um, no.

“I don’t think my family meant for me to hook up with a womanizer.”

Yeah, I have no argument for that.

“Would it be so bad to let loose and have a little fun, though?”

You really should try it.

She inhaled deeply. “Why can’t I stop smelling his cologne?”

Shit. He’d forgotten about her sharp sense of smell.

The light came on in the room whose terrace he’d borrowed. He shot a glance at the gap in the curtain to see a couple entering, their voices muffled but clear enough he heard, “Join me outside for a nightcap?”

He had to leave. Now. But Selene remained on her terrace, and worse, leaning on the rail, she’d see him for sure if he climbed over.

Just in time, she returned to her room, and he swung over the rail and slid sideways a moment before the couple emerged.

He made it safely back inside the stairway, his mind full of Selene until he heard a raspy whisper from below.

“I can’t wait to ditch this job.”

“Fucking rich, entitled Westerners,” replied a heavily accented voice.

“Not for long,” cackled the other.

Those suspicious words reminded him why he’d come aboard.

With Selene in her room for the night, Dante decided to go find himself some supper—and answers.

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My Boyfriend Marks Trees

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Book Cover: My Boyfriend Marks Trees
Find a StoreApple BooksGooglePlayBarnes and NobleKoboAmazon/KindleAudiobook
Part of the A Moonstruck Mating series:
  • My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
  • My Boyfriend Marks Trees
  • My Boyfriend Bites
  • A Moonstruck Mating Books 1 – 3

For her, he’ll wear a leash.


Ares never planned on settling down, not with his secret. How can he explain why he turns furry on the full moon and likes to mark his territory? But he changes his mind when he meets Charlotte and her daughter at an outdoor market.

It’s Christmas time, and this single mom is just making ends meet however she is less than impressed when a handsome stranger tracks her down to share some holiday cheer. A good thing this tenacious wolf isn’t easily deterred. Ares sets out to win the heart of the woman who makes him want to howl.

Only, she’s not interested in a relationship.

Turns out Charlotte has her own secrets, and when her past comes hunting and threatening, Ares will do anything to keep them safe.
But when the snowflakes settle, will Charlotte be able to accept a man with wolfish charm?

Full List of Stores

Published: 2024-11-28
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Genres:
fated mates, Holiday Romance, Holiday Romance, Paranormal Romance, Shapeshifter Romance, single mom, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

Skree!

The brown squirrel with a white streak on top of his head—which Ares and his siblings had nicknamed Skippy—had plenty to say about Ares sawing the tree.

So did his wolf.

One bite and it will be quiet.

His reply to his furry other half? You know how I feel about ingesting raw meat in this form.

I’ve seen how you eat your steak.

Difference is steak isn’t covered in hair and is delicious.

On that, at least they agreed.

“Sorry, little fellow, but this sucker is slated for the market,” Ares told Skippy. The entire field had been originally started by his dad more than two decades ago. When his father passed, Ares took over the planning and maintenance of the fir, spruce, and pine trees that people coveted for the holiday season.

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The worst part of the squirrel’s harangue? It didn’t even have a nest in that particular fir. None in the other three it freaked out about, either. It would seem Skippy had claimed the entire field as his own.

Ares crouched and continued sawing.

Grack. The agitated squirrel yelled before it dumped snow on Ares’ exposed neck.

“Bloody hell!” He rolled to his back and gave it a glare. The critter didn’t seem impressed, as it continued to harangue him.

Bullied by a rodent. The humiliation, his wolf lamented.

Honestly, more annoying than embarrassing. Ares bared his teeth and growled.

The squirrel proceeded to let loose a stream of pee, and Ares only barely managed to avoid getting drenched.

“Keep it up and I will eat you,” Ares warned. The squirrel gave him the critter equivalent of a “fuck you” and leaped to another tree, one better suited for the creature since it hadn’t yet reached the proper size for selling and Ares had no plans to take it down yet.

Once more, Ares crouched under the lowest boughs and finished cutting. Then, because there lurked a little boy inside him, he yelled, “Timber!” as it fell onto the frozen ground, puffing the thin layer of snow.

He got caught. His younger sister, Selene—who could sneak like nobody’s business—chirped, “For a second, I thought you might start singing that Timber song by Pitbull and Ke$ha.”

“Never. You know I don’t do that modern-pop shit,” he grumbled.

“Or Christmas music or anything with a fun rhythm,” his sister complained.

“I like the classics.” The classics being Kiss, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC. He’d grown up listening to it because of his dad and found it more satisfying than anything put out today.

“You’re like an old man stuck in a twenty-seven-year-old’s body,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Not old, more like an enjoyer of the classics.”

“No wonder you’re still single. Maybe you should try hitting up the retirement homes. I’m sure someone there will appreciate your taste in music.”

“Ha. Ha. So funny. What’s up? Did you need something?”

“More like wondering if you need a hand at the market?” she asked.

“Depends. Are you going to complain it’s cold and wander off buying everything in sight while I do the work?”

Selene’s cheek dimpled as she smiled. “Probably. But I wanted to be polite and offer.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just about done loading the truck, and the site is already prepped.”

“Sounds like Skippy is not happy with you,” Selene remarked as the squirrel dangled from a branch and shook a fist while chattering.

“Skippy needs to find another grove of trees to claim.”

Selene giggled. “I think it’s a game to him. Every year, you two have the same fight.”

They did. And every year his wolf wanted to eat Skippy. It should be noted, on the full moon, when he did run on four feet and in fur, his wolf didn’t come near Skippy’s field, nor did he eat squirrels, although he did like chasing them up trees.

“You and Mom ready for your trip?”

“Yes!” Selene clapped her mittened hands. “The countdown is on. You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Ares had scored a last-minute cruise deal for his mom and sister that he informed them about early since it was their Christmas present.

“But you’ll be all alone for the holidays.” Selene’s perpetual smile drooped.

“Hardly alone. Athena will be around, and I’ve got an invite to spend Christmas Eve and Day with the Kennedys.” Athena’s new boyfriend, Derek, came with a set of grandparents that, while slightly crazy—and no he didn’t exaggerate, they had a full-on apocalypse-ready bunker and enough ammo to start a war—were actually pretty fun to be around.

Good treats, was his wolf’s addition.

“I’m a little jealous. Grams is probably going to have the best feast.” Selene rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Those sugar tarts she sent over were divine.”

“I wouldn’t know. You ate them all.”

“You snooze, you lose,” she sang.

“You ate all twelve before I even got home from work,” he complained.

“Oops. Anyhow, since you don’t want my help, I’m going to pop out for a bit. Got a few bunnies to deliver.” His sister raised rabbits both for chasing and selling to restaurants. Mom was the honey and pie queen, whereas Ares, who worked as a mechanic, spent his spare time crafting cheese and growing Christmas trees. Only Athena chose a job that didn’t involve the farm, working as a lab tech.

With a cheerful wave, Selene skipped off, a happy woman despite the recent trauma of being kidnapped by a mad doctor who wanted to announce to the world the fact they were werewolves—as in, all three siblings changed on the full moon into four-legged furry beasts.

A good thing Selene came out of it unscathed, or Ares would have found a way to kill the doctor a second time. Don’t mess with his family.

Ares twined the last tree before loading it with the others. He’d have to hustle. The market would be opening shortly. At least he didn’t have too far to go. Arnprior and the church hosting the holiday fair was just a short ride away from the family farm in Calabogie.

The parking area bustled with some vendors setting up outdoors, while others were inside the church with their tables. Ares had a section already roped off, and it didn’t take long to throw up his sign, Christmas Trees for Sale, with the pricing by height. Then he lay the bound trees against the sawhorses he’d set up the day before. In the past, Ares used to allow people to come and choose their own tree at the farm. However, there’d been too many incidents with idiots who didn’t listen to instructions and proved scary with an axe. Much better to provide them ready to go at the market. The quick and easy cash was for spoiling his mother and sisters. A little extra would come in handy as well, given Athena looked to be expecting a child with her firefighter boyfriend. Not that she’d announced it, but Ares smelled the change in her during their last moon run.

As Ares whirled from his leaning stack to grab another tree, he startled at the sight of a little girl eyeballing him, her cheeks rosy and framed by a woolen red hat. Her matching mittens clashed with her light blue snowsuit.

“Hi,” chirped the kid.

“Hey.”

“Your trees are squished,” she observed.

“They’ll fluff out nice once we undo the twine.”

The child cocked her head. “Mama says real trees are messy.”

“Sometimes, but they sure smell good.” Good enough he’d apparently pissed on them when he was little with no regard for the fact they sat in the living room. Drove his mom nuts, whereas dad always laughed and claimed, “Boy’s just marking his territory.”

“Greta, you better not be bugging that man,” a woman called out as she bustled over, her bright pink earmuffs holding back her dirty-blonde hair. She had smooth features, pink lips that matched her rosy cheeks, and bright brown eyes. Nice figure, too, the jeans hugging a curvy frame.

Mmm, she smells nice. His wolf approved.

“He has real trees, Mommy.” Greta pointed. “They’re squishy now, but he says they smell good and get fluffy. Can we have one?”

“We can’t get a tree this year, munchkin.”

The tyke’s lips turned down. “I know. ‘Cause we need food and not fri-vol-ussy things.”

Ares found himself tightening as the child inadvertently revealed the real reason they didn’t have one.

“One day, I’ll get you the biggest tree you ever saw,” the woman murmured as she crouched by the child.

“Okay.” Greta didn’t have a tantrum like some kids. She took it like a champ.

Mom leaned close to whisper, “I saw a snowman wandering.”

“Snowmen can’t walk,” snorted the kid.

“Well, this one is, and he has candy canes!”

“Oooh.” Greta glanced left and right before spotting the suited character. “I see him!” She bolted for the snowman with candy.

The woman rose. “Sorry if she disturbed you.”

“Nah, she was fine. Cute kid.”

Fine pup, wolf agreed.

“Precocious with no filter, you mean.”

His lips curved. “She is. She mentioned you guys don’t have a tree. Why don’t you take one, on the house?”

She eyed him, her expression suspicious at the offer. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Hardly charity. I already know I won’t sell all of these. Therefore, you taking one now saves me carting it back to my place.”

Her lips pursed. “While your offer is kind, I’m afraid I don’t have a way to get it to our place. But thank you.”

With that, the pretty woman turned, that sweet ass of hers mesmerizing—good enough to bite—and headed after her daughter.

Ares found himself glancing at the woman often as she strolled the Christmas market, not buying anything but managing to give her kid a fun afternoon that included face painting, a visit from Santa, and, of course, a fistful of candy canes. He even spotted her walking away, holding the tyke’s hand as they sang carols, not heading for a car but moving out of sight on foot. Probably lived in the area.

When Ares closed up, toting five trees back onto the trailer he’d used to haul them, he noticed a red mitten lying on the ground. A woolen one he recognized with a name stitched inside.

Greta Dawson.

The kid would need it with snow in the forecast and mom tight on dough.

With a tree over his shoulder, and the mitten in hand giving him a scent, he retraced their footsteps. He almost missed the turn onto a side street. His wolf didn’t, though.

They went that way.

He pivoted and kept strolling, wondering what he’d say. After all, she’d probably wonder how he found her. He couldn’t exactly say he had a super sense of smell. What would sound plausible, instead? It hit him then. He’d seen her filling out a giveaway ballot with the lady who knitted stuffed animals. With the last name on the mitten, he could have easily matched them up.

Excuse found just in time as his wolf huffed, Here.

The townhome, which probably had seen better years since it had been built fifty years ago, looked tidy compared to its neighbors. The walkway clear of snow and ice. A wreath, which had obviously been made by a child using colored construction paper, hung on the door. The front window glowed, highlighting the hand-drawn picture of Santa—with a toothy smile a wolf would envy—taped in it.

Ares knocked and stood waiting, slightly nervous. Blame the fact he’d never done anything so bold before, but he couldn’t help himself. He could claim he did a good deed returning the mitten, but in truth, he kind of wanted to see the kid’s mom again.

When the door flung open, the woman exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

Ares held up the mitten. “I found this.”

Before the woman could reply, there was a blood-curdling scream from inside.

The woman turned and bolted inside the house.

Save the pup!

Ares didn’t think. He dumped the tree and followed.

Chapter 2

“What is it?” Charlotte yelled as she rushed to find her daughter. Greta stood on a kitchen chair and pointed.

“Ugly bug!”

“Seriously?” huffed Charlotte, only to recoil as she caught sight of it. The bug truly was a hideous thing with many legs and waving antennas. And it moved fast.

“Kill it!” screamed Greta. “It’s getting away.”

Charlotte hesitated. The idea of squishing it with her sock-covered foot had her cringing.

It scuttled in Charlotte’s direction, and she yelped before leaping onto a chair.

The bug knew it had them cornered and stopped between the chairs, wiggling all its nasty body parts.

Stomp. The Christmas tree man, who’d somehow managed to find her, took care of the bug, then apologized. “Sorry for barging in with my boots. I heard the kid freaking and didn’t think. Just kind of acted.”

Before Charlotte could order him out of her home, Greta literally threw herself at the man, who luckily caught her. Greta wrapped her legs around his torso and hugged him around the neck, crooning, “My hero!”

“Uh…” Tree Man stood there awkwardly, looking unsure of what to do.

“Greta, get down. You can’t just maul people. Remember, we talked about personal space,” Charlotte chided.

Her daughter leaned her head on his shoulder. “But he saved me and he smells good.”

“Greta!” She injected a warning tone.

Did munchkin listen? “He doesn’t mind, do you?” Greta turned her gazillion-watt gaze on him, and no surprise, he couldn’t escape the cuteness, as evidenced by the smile he returned to her.

“It’s fine. I’ve carried much heavier, and I’m always happy to rescue ladies in need.”

“Ladies.” Greta giggled. “I’m a little girl.”

“Yes, you are. And I think you forgot this.” He still held the red mitten, which Charlotte had thought lost since they arrived home with only one.

“Ooh. Thank you.” Greta snatched it and waved. “See, Mama, not lost.”

She rolled her eyes. “You got lucky. Now say thank you to the man and goodbye, as I’m sure he’s got somewhere else to be.”

“Does he have to go?” asked Greta, using her best pleading voice and big, big eyes.

“I wasn’t planning on intruding. Just delivering the mitten and one other thing.”

“What other thing?” Charlotte asked suspiciously.

“I brought you one of the leftover trees.”

Again, Charlotte had no time to reply because Greta squealed. “A tree! A real one! For me?”

“Yes, for you.” He laughed. “If you give me a second, I’ll bring it in.”

“I don’t know if you should,” Charlotte stiffly replied. “I don’t have anything for it.” Not a pot, or a stand, or even decorations.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.” He winked at Greta. “You let me know where I’m putting it.”

Pretty much anywhere, seeing as how they lacked furniture, the love seat in the living room being the only thing of size. Their small television sat on a battered dresser she’d grabbed from the curb on garbage day. Charlotte kept meaning to paint it.

Greta bounced and clapped in the small entryway. “Oh, Mama. Look. A tree. A real one. It’s a Christmas miracle.”

While Charlotte hated charity, and the fact this stranger had somehow found them, she wasn’t about to crush her daughter’s happiness. Time enough to put this man in his place. And if he tried anything… She wore a switchblade on her beltloop for a reason.

A woman couldn’t be too careful. Having been a survivor of violence, and hating that helpless feeling, she’d taken self-defense classes. She also went on YouTube and studied how to fight with more than just her fists. Because if he ever found her, she needed every advantage she could get.

“Where am I putting it, little princess?” asked the man as he returned with a tree much bigger than the scraggly remnant she’d expected.

“Right there. In front of the window.” Greta pointed.

“A most excellent spot. Let me park it here for a second, though, while I grab the stand. I’ll be a few minutes. It’s in my truck parked at the church.”

He must have jogged there and back because it took him less than five minutes to arrive with the stand. It proved to be a metal basin placed within a cube built of two-by-fours.

“How fortuitous you had all those things in your truck,” Charlotte drawled, not hiding her suspicion he’d carefully plotted his invasion of her home.

“Some people like the idea of a tree but don’t have the stuff to put it up. So I always make sure I’ve got a few stands and buckets just in case,” he tossed over his shoulder as he planted the tree in the contraption. “Fill the basin with water to keep it lasting longer. If it gets dry, the needles will start falling.”

“I’ll get some water!” Greta ran to the kitchen.

It gave Charlotte a chance to ask questions. “Exactly how did you find us?” Because she was unlisted for a reason.

“Once I found the mitten, Carrie, the lady doing the giveaway for a stuffie, kindly let me sift through the ballots to see if I could match the name. Didn’t find a Greta Dawson, but there was a Charlotte Dawson.”

A plausible explanation and more trouble than she’d have expected a man to go through just to return a mitten. What did he really want?

Greta returned with a bowl full of water, which slopped despite her careful steps. Charlotte used her socks to mop the spill rather than leave him alone in the room with her daughter.

The tree man helped Greta pour it in. “Okay, stand back now.” He pulled a knife, and Charlotte stiffened. The guy grinned at Greta. “Ready for the fluff?”

“Yesss.” Greta rocked on her heels with excitement.

The knife slashed the twine, and while it wasn’t a window-smashing event like seen in movies, the tree definitely exploded, branches springing out, bulking the tree.

“Oooh.” Greta’s eyes went wide, and Charlotte wished she could have been the one to bring wonder to her face. They just couldn’t afford anything more than rent and food right now. Given she couldn’t afford daycare, she could only work while Greta went to school or when the elderly neighbor next door watched Greta in exchange for Charlotte cleaning her house. She’d been scrimping just to make sure she even had a present for Greta on Christmas morning.

When they’d fled, it had been with nothing to their name. Charlotte hadn’t dared to hit her place to pack a suitcase of clothes. She’d left her furniture and life behind. Hightailed it clear across the country, from the Rockies to Ontario. She might have gone farther, only she had limited cash left by that point. Only enough to put down a first and last months’ rent. Hence why they stayed on the outskirts of Ottawa, in a small town called Arnprior, where a person who wasn’t too picky could rent a place that only took two weeks of pay to cover. The other two weeks went to food, which had gotten astronomical in price, plus essentials like clothes for a growing kid and a small emergency fund in case they had to run again.

Greta chatted with the man as he showed her how to fluff the branches. It was when he asked for paper and scissors, which sent Greta scurrying, that Charlotte crossed her arms and said, “What are you doing?”

“Bringing joy?” he offered with a crooked grin.

“Seriously?” She arched a brow. “Exactly what is your game? I have nothing to give you.”

“Not asking for anything.”

“I’m not putting out either. So if you’re expecting any favors because of that”—she pointed to the tree—“then you’ll be disappointed.”

His lips pursed. “I’m not that kind of man. Listen, I know this might be hard to believe, but I genuinely just wanted to spread some happiness. It’s how I was raised.” He stood and held out his hand. “It occurs to me that we’ve never properly met. I’m Ares McMurray, and before you think I’m lying or a serial killer, here’s my card.” He handed over a black-embossed business card with the title Ares Artisanal Cheese, a website address, and a phone number.

“You make cheese?” She couldn’t help sounding a little incredulous.

“Yeah. The best you’ve ever had,” he boasted. “But since it’s not exactly bringing in the big bucks, I also work at a garage.”

“How do I know this is real?”

“Google it. I’m legit. If you want, you can call my mom and sisters too. They’ll vouch for me.”

Greta returned, waving paper and scissors, the paper technically already used; one side had flyer info on it. Charlotte’s work had printed too many for a sale they were having, and rather than dump them in the garbage, she’d brought them home for arts and crafts.

“I gots it!” Greta squealed. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Well, this tree is kind of naked, little princess. What do you say we give it some snowflakes?”

“Yesss.” Greta plopped down and watched as Ares joined her, showing her how to fold the paper accordion-style before trimming bits and pieces and then expanding it with a “Ta-da!”

“Pretty.” Greta fluttered it to the tree and draped it. “Let’s make another.”

“Your turn.” He guided Greta without touching, which Charlotte appreciated, and soon her munchkin had her own snowflakes on the tree.

It led to Charlotte murmuring, “I think we have some popcorn we can string too.” Might as well join in since the tree was staying.

An hour later and the tree had paper snowflakes, macaroni and popcorn garland, and Greta’s prized knock-off Cinderella princess sitting at the very top, courtesy of Ares, who finagled a way for her to stay up there. It was just missing lights, and her work had those for five bucks a strand. She’d just skip buying meat for a few days.

Greta rubbed her tummy. “I’m hungry, Mama.”

The late afternoon had turned into dinnertime, and Charlotte gnawed her lower lip because the right thing to do would be to invite Ares to stay for dinner, only the leftover casserole was barely enough for two.

“Why don’t you wash up, munchkin, and Mama will fix something.”

As Greta skipped out of the room, Charlotte’s cheeks heated as she mumbled, “I’m sorry, but I haven’t done groceries and—”

“No need to apologize or explain. I know I’ve overstayed my welcome, or should I say, barging in? You’ve got a sweet kid.”

“I know.”

“Thanks for not poking me with your knife. I know I kind of took you by surprise.”

Her eyes widened. So he’d noticed it. “Thank you for not being a psychopath.”

His lips curved. “Just a weird dude who sells Christmas trees and makes cheese. I should get going now. Mom’s usually got dinner on the table by six-thirty, and it will take at least a half-hour to get home.”

“You live with your mom?” It came out a little judgey.

“Me and my baby sister. We don’t like Mom being alone, especially since the farm always needs something done. My older sister, Athena, moved out, but she comes by often.”

A man close to his family. Sweet and rare these days.

Greta skipped back in and saw Ares putting on his coat. “You’re leaving?” Her lips turned down.

“Yeah. But I had a fun time. Thanks for letting me help decorate your tree.”

“You’re welcome. When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure, princess. I think that will depend on your mom.”

Charlotte hadn’t been interested in any man since the sour experience with Greta’s dad, so it surprised when she muttered, “Maybe he can come back for dinner another time.”

The smile he beamed her way almost impregnated her. Her ovaries certainly did a little jiggle. Jeezus, no way was he single. Or if he was, definitely a player.

“I would love to come back for a visit. ‘Til next time, little princess.”

Greta threw herself at his legs and squeezed. “Bye, Ares.”

Charlotte saw him to the door and murmured, “Have a good evening.”

“You too, Charly.”

Wait, Charly?

She was still blinking at the nickname as he crossed the street to a pickup truck. Stared at his ass in his snug jeans and wondered why a man like him would even be interested.

At twenty-five, with a six-year-old, and a few pounds too many—"you fat cunt, you disgust me”—she had no illusions about how men saw her. Maybe he really just was a nice guy trying to spread joy.

Not that it mattered. She’d most likely never see him again. Still, she didn’t toss his card but stuck it to the fridge. After all, she did love cheese.

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My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

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Book Cover: My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
Find a StoreGooglePlayApple BooksAmazon/KindleBarnes and NobleKoboAudiobook
Part of the A Moonstruck Mating series:
  • My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
  • My Boyfriend Marks Trees
  • My Boyfriend Bites
  • A Moonstruck Mating Books 1 – 3

I’ve licked him. He’s mine.

Running into a strange white wolf isn’t an everyday occurrence in Derek’s life. Neither is finding a naked—and beautiful—woman alone in the park. Had the wolf been an omen of what was yet to come? Because since meeting Athena, Derek’s life’s been upended.

Chased by thugs and with a ransom on her head, Athena isn’t divulging why she’s a wanted woman. Derek helps her anyway since he’s a gentleman and she keeps his curiosity—and other things—piqued. Besides, he’ll be damned if some greedy doctor is going to kidnap and experiment on innocent people in his own backyard.

But he can’t help but notice Athena’s great sense of smell, or her proclivity for chasing rabbits, or the way she disappears every full moon…

Turns out his Athena’s got a hairy secret.

A howling whopper of one.

Guess he’d better stock up on flea collars and kibble because My Girlfriend is a Werewolf.

Full List of Stores

 

Published: 2024-10-17
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Genres:
dark humor, killer heroine, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shapeshifter Romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

The full moon would be rising after dinner, which meant no more screwing around. Athena needed out of her prison before anyone confirmed her secret. She’d done well holding tight, not giving into the anger when they spent hours hosing her down with frigid water. She’d not barked once when they forced her to spend time with cats or someone delivered something to her cell. The sirens they played had her tempted to howl, but she bit her tongue.

Pretending to be a normal human being took its toll, but she’d managed thus far. However, Athena couldn’t do anything about the blood and tissue samples the various technicians took. At least she could be comforted with the fact a few weird chromosomes didn’t mean shit without proof of what that special twist in her DNA meant.

But she wouldn’t be able to hide her secret tonight.

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A week of flirting with her afternoon guard would hopefully pay off. She needed to escape before they trotted her outside and exposed her to moonlight—the one thing she couldn’t resist.

Simon, the guy on shift, arrived with her meal tray, and Athena offered him a simpering smile as he brought it into her cell. He no longer gave her the daily warning to stand in the far corner. Her ploy to fool him into thinking her harmless appeared to be working.

As Simon set down her dinner, she murmured, “Thanks. You take such good care of me.” Athena batted her lashes so hard they almost took flight.

“Just doing my job.” Simon hitched his pants by the loops and puffed his barrel chest. A thick fellow, but she’d tussled with bigger.

“Guess after tonight we won’t see each other anymore once they realize I’m not what they think I am.” Her lips turned down in feigned sadness.

“You could call me when you’re released,” he offered. “We could go to dinner and stuff.”

“If only that were possible. Given what I know about this facility, I fear what they’ll do to me.” She ducked her head as she played the melodramatic damsel.

“I’m sure Dr. Rogers won’t do anything drastic. Mistakes happen.”

Of course, Simon would defend the doctor who’d been the one to trap her and organize the tests. Everyone in this installation worshipped Dr. Rogers, the man who’d caught the first Sasquatch. The guy who’d proved the existence of Ogopogo while also disproving Nessie using some kind of deep sonar tech. And now Dr. Rogers planned to out lycanthropes.

She still had no idea how he’d sniffed out her existence. Athena always took great care to never be seen when she ran on four feet.

“I hope you’re right and this is all a big misunderstanding, but what if this is my last moment on Earth?” She clutched her chest. “What if my last kiss was that slobbery one by that drunk in a bar? If only I had a nicer memory to take with me.”

Simon blinked, and it took his pea-sized brain a second to figure out what she hinted at.

“Uh, er…” He glanced at the camera in the cell with its red blinking light.

Someone always watched and listened. It took everything in her to be as boring as possible. Lying on her cot counting the dots in the ceiling tile. Staring off blankly into space. When she couldn’t stand to be sedentary, she’d do push-ups or jumping jacks but not so many as to seem suspicious.

They must be wondering by now if they’d assumed wrong since she’d not once peed in a corner nor wagged her butt in excitement when her dinner came with dessert.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked. I’m just so scared! It’s so unfair. I didn’t do anything,” she exclaimed and grabbed the pudding—chocolate, her favorite—and threw it. Her aim proved good, as it hit the camera and gooey goodness smothered the lens, ruining their eyes and hopefully muffling their ears. She wouldn’t have long.

“Oh shit,” Simon muttered, eyeing the mess.

She grabbed him by the shirt. “Quick, kiss me before they come.”

“Uh…”

What a meathead. Would she have to do everything?

A mash of her mouth to Simon’s distracted as she divested him of the notepad in his back pocket, where she knew he kept the door codes written because Simon couldn’t remember the many-numbered sequences. She’d been carefully scouting which of the guards she could use in her escape, and Simple Simon won hands-down.

As Simon began to moan, she suddenly shoved him in the direction of the cot. The backs of his legs hit it, and he fell hard. Bemused, he didn’t immediately clue in that she’d exited to the hall, but he started yelling when she slammed the cell door shut.

Step one, get out of her room. Done.

She ran up the hall, bare feet slapping the cold tile. The next door had a keypad. She flipped open the notebook and could have cursed at the sloppy writing. Simon had several entries; Main, Pretty Girl, Ugly Dude. Hall 1, Hall 2, Stairs, Yard.

Which one to use? When Hall 1 didn’t work, she cursed and quickly punched Hall 2. As the door clicked and she yanked it open, an alarm went off.

Things were about to get dicey. Usually her favorite kind.

The next hall held a woman in a lab coat carrying a tablet. Dr. Lanier, the psychologist who’d been trying to trick Athena into admitting her furry side.

As if. Athena had been taught from a young age to never ever say a thing. Daddy might be gone now, but his lessons remained.

“What are you doing out of your cell?” Dr. Lanier squeaked.

“Blowing this joint. I’d say nice knowing you, but that would be a lie,” Athena grumbled as she barreled for the woman. Lanier did nothing to stop her, unless screeching, “Help!” counted.

The shoulder Athena used to ram the doctor aside proved satisfying. Not as satisfying as, say, biting her, but Athena didn’t have time for revenge. Plotting retaliation would come later.

If she escaped.

The next keypad unlocked the door the moment she punched in the code for the stairs. It opened onto a staircase and elevator. Since the numbers showed it coming down, she fled up the steps and ran into a pair of soldiers descending. Her momentum let her drive into their legs and send them tumbling. She continued her bolt upwards, only to stop in surprise at the first-floor landing.

Dr. Rogers stood there waiting for the elevator. A pair of armed guards flanked the tall man with his wire-rimmed glasses, bowtie, and customary white coat. The guards aimed their revolvers at Athena.

Dr. Rogers yelled, “Don’t shoot to kill. We need her alive.”

A fellow with an impressive mustache said, “So aim for a leg or an arm?”

Their hesitation gave Athena the chance she needed. She roundhouse-kicked the gun out of one hand and followed with an uppercut to the second guy. As they reeled in surprise, a left hook plus a right cross laid another two other guards flat out. Thank you, Daddy, for the lessons and increased strength. Athena might not look it, but she could pack a punch.

The doctor didn’t look impressed she’d taken out his security. “There is no escape. Even if you make it out of the facility, I will find you.”

“You’re assuming I won’t find you first,” she chirped. “I’ll be seeing you…” She waved as she slammed through the door that led to the lobby. A lobby full of armed guards who eyed her in shock.

As guns left holsters, the doctor saved her again. “Don’t you dare use those weapons. Someone fetch the tranquilizer guns.”

Since the lobby area had too many even for her to slam through, Athena ran the other way, heading for the door that led to the yard. Dr. Rogers had been having her escorted to it nightly as the moon got fatter and fatter.

‘Yard’ proved to be a bit of a misnomer. It was a concrete space surrounded by barbed-wire fencing. Beyond it, a line of trees thick enough to prevent casual passersby from spying. Wouldn’t the folks in Ottawa be surprised to know the Experimental Farm wasn’t just about testing crops? Their basement level hosted a lab for other things.

The fencing with its sharp tines would hurt, but Athena preferred a bit of pain to being incarcerated and outed. However, to give herself the best chance, the shirt came off, and as she ran, she tore the thin fabric of the scrub top to wrap around her hands. The barbed metal still bit her flesh, but she gritted her teeth and climbed, even as she could hear the commotion at her back.

Despite expecting to be shot—probably in the ass with her luck—she kept ascending.

“Shoot the darts!” Dr. Rogers screamed. “Quick. She’s about to escape.”

Indeed, she was. Freedom beckoned, but she’d be cutting it close. Blame Simon for arriving later than usual. Twilight would shortly descend, and that meant the pull of the moon was strong as it began to rise in the coming night sky.

Athena hit the ground on the other side of the fence with a grunt and a bend of the knees. A good thing she’d ducked as a dart whizzed over her head, the soldier having gotten lucky and shot it through the diamond-shaped holes in the fence.

Her bare feet pounded the ground as she took off running, immediately heading for the woods where she could use the shadows and branches to make it harder for them to aim.

As she sprinted, her skin began tingling in warning. She gritted her teeth against it. Not yet. She needed to be out of sight, not only of human eyes but electronic ones.

As she burst from the tree line, moonlight hit, and she couldn’t fight it anymore. No lycanthrope could. The change came quickly, not a magical transition from human to wolf, but also not the violent tearing that Netflix portrayed in Hemlock Grove. More like seconds of joint popping, skin shivering, and senses muffled before she hit the ground on four paws.

Athena ran. Ran faster than the shouting soldiers chasing her.

The problem then became, where to go?

Home was out of the question, as was hitting up her friends or family. She had no money for a motel. So what did that leave?

Hours later, she still had no clue, until she saw the jogger being accosted and joined the fight.

Chapter 2

Derek browsed his local Reddit for news as he waited for the elevator in his apartment building. Mostly the same old thing.

Why are people so rude these days?

OMG rent is outrageous.

And then a new one…

White wolf sighted along Rideau Canal. And within the last hour, too.

He snorted. More likely a large dog or a coyote. Ontario had wolves, but they tended to stay far from big cities like Ottawa.

As the bell dinged and the elevator door slid open, he tucked his phone into the armband he wore for jogging. He probably should have taken the stairs down, but the last time, someone had pissed in the stairwell, and he’d stepped in it. Those shoes got tossed. It was one thing to piss on his own shoes because he was drunk and lacked aim, another to slosh around in someone else’s urine.

As Derek exited his building, he broke into a light jog. Fall, his favorite time of year. The evenings got dark early, the air crisp instead of redolent like in summer with the festering garbage. Even better, fewer people on the trails running along the river so he could jog without having to play dodge the pedestrian. Then again, not many people out and about this time of night. He’d worked a graveyard shift, getting off at four instead of one since someone failed to show, home by five because transit sucked. Despite the hour, he liked to indulge in a quick jog then be in bed by dawn so he could get up early afternoon to do it again. Not ideal, but rent needed to be paid.

He might not have minded his dull life so much if he at least had a girlfriend. His last one hadn’t worked out. Apparently, after six months of dating, him saying “We should move in together” was controlling. According to Stacy, “You’re stifling me. I need my space.” It should be noted they saw each other maybe once a week, given their alternating schedules. The whole let’s-live-together thing had been his way of spending more time with her since she’d also complained, “I never see you.”

At thirty-three, Derek could safely say he didn’t understand women, but that didn’t deter him. As his grams always said, “There’s a bitch out there somewhere, you little bastard. So chin up, make sure to wash your bits, and whatever you do, don’t tell them you like pineapple on pizza.” Because, according to his grandma, women would run screaming if they knew.

Grams tended to tell things straight with many cuss words. It made school concerts growing up entertaining because Grandma had no problem hollering, “Sit your ass down. Some of us want to see something other than your talentless jizz.” Also amusing? Her ranting as the refs tossed her out of his hockey games for taunting the opposing team. Then there was the grilling of Derek’s potential GF’s with questions like, “Can you cook, or is your idea of fine dining opening a can?” “You going to be true to my grandson, or am I gonna have to take you out to the woodshed for a chat?” His favorite… “So what prepping have you done for the apocalypse?” For some reason, that question sent a few running. Good. Derek didn’t need someone who would question his stockpile of water, Ramen noodles, and his bug-out bag for when shit hit the fan.

He'd yet to meet a woman who passed the Grams test, although a few, after meeting her, did think they could demand he cut her out of his life. Like fuck. Love me, love my family.

Heavy metal blasted in his air pods, the heavy beat the perfect accompaniment for the slap of his sneakers on pavement. The lights along the canal lit the path well until a section by a bench overlooking the water. Burnt out or vandalized? Probably the latter. Since the pandemic, crime had gotten worse.

Speaking of which, as he entered the dark section, three dudes wearing face masks, bulky hoodies, and oozing attitude stepped into his path.

Derek slowed his jog and drawled, “Morning, fellas.” Because with dawn about to burst, it was no longer night.

“Give us your stuff.” The skinniest one held out his hand.

Derek arched a brow. “I’d rather not. I hate setting up new phones.”

“Hand it over or else,” a second dude ordered, whipping out a switchblade.

It led to Derek eyeballing guy number three. “Let’s hear it. Don’t let your buddies get all the threatening glory.”

“Uh…” Guy number three apparently didn’t have a catch phrase of his own.

“Okay boys, let’s get this done.” It should be noted, Grams didn’t just teach him how to swear more mightily than a trucker—and she could get quite creative when it came to cussing at drivers that should get out of her fucking way. Grams had been in her fair share of bar fights because she did so love her whiskey, but if she mixed it with beer… watch out.

To those who might be appalled he’d taken pugilistic lessons from a little old lady, one, his grandma wasn’t little, and two, she’d never lost a fight—something Gramps took pride in. Gramps liked to sit back and watch, even wager, and had won more than a few tidy sums that way.

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way.” The guy with the knife took one step forward, and Derek almost rolled his eyes.

“Dude, did no one ever teach you how to use that thing?” Derek reached out, chopped the wrist, and grabbed the falling blade. “Let’s get rid of this before you cut yourself.” He pulled back his arm and tossed the flimsy weapon into the flowing water.

Three sets of surprised eyes ogled him before guy number one barked, “Get him!”

Three against one. Looked like he’d be getting a full cardio workout tonight.

Sweet!

Derek ducked under a clumsy blow and nailed the guy in the diaphragm, bending him over double. He then spun and thumped the dumb one, clocking him in the face and sending him reeling.

Number three would have turned and run, only a giant white dog stood in their way, growling softly, hackles raised. Must be the wolf they were talking about on Reddit.

Derek ignored the pup as he grabbed the men he’d smacked and tossed them into the canal. Let the water wash away their sins. Or drown them. Either way, a win for society.

Guy number three apparently had a knife of his own, and he pulled it to threaten the big floof.

“Out of my way, mutt.” Thief number three feinted with his blade, and the big dog looked unimpressed.

Derek, however, took exception. “Animal abuse is not cool, dude. Pick on someone human.”

The guy half turned to snarl, “Fuck off, or I’ll stab you too.”

“Have you learned nothing in the last two minutes?” With that, Derek kicked the back of buddy’s knee and, before the guy could recover, chopped the hand with the knife. Plop. The weapon went for a swim and drowned.

“What the fuck, man?” whined the dude.

“Listen up because I am about to give you some really good life advice. One, stop robbing hard-working folk. I don’t bust my ass forty-plus hours a week for some lazy pukes to steal my shit. Get a fucking job. Two, three against one? Not cool, dude. If you wanna have a go at someone, then it’s one-on-one. And ditch the knife. If you’re gonna fight, then do so like a man. Three, if you’re going to play tough guy, then can you at least take some lessons? This was pathetic. I didn’t even break a sweat.”

Derek would have sworn the dog appeared amused as it cocked its head. The wannabe thief was more confused than anything.

“Are you a cop?”

Derek actually shuddered. “Fuck no. Just a regular Joe who isn’t fucking about to let three punks bully him. Now, I’ll give you a choice. Jump or get tossed.”

“What?”

“Jesus you’re stupid. I blame our public education system.” Derek reached over and grabbed the guy, hauling him off his feet before heaving him over the railing to join his friends, who clung to the concrete side of the canal blubbering about it being cold. He leaned over the rail to give them one final piece of advice. “Don’t let me see you again.”

With that, he turned to the dog. “Hey, puppers. You lost? Hungry?” He didn’t see a collar.

The dog, a good size, with a fluffy coat of white fur, glanced to the sky, which began to lighten, before yipping and running off. Probably had to get home before its owner realized it had gone missing.

Derek pressed play on his phone and resumed his jog, only to pause about a hundred yards later when a naked woman jumped out from behind a tree.

Startled, he just about fell over. He also had to tuck his tongue into his mouth because holy hot babe.

Platinum hair that was almost silvery white, honey-colored skin, peach-sized boobs, narrow waist, and, damn, the carpet matched the drapes.

He gaped, at a rare loss for words.

Her lips moved, but it took him a second to flip off his music and mutter, “Say that again?”

“I need help. I’ve been robbed.”

So not a drug addict in the midst of an episode. Had to watch for those. Nothing worse than being accosted by a naked woman wielding a knife who screamed she collected dicks. And, yes, it had happened. Grams gave him shit when she found out he fled. “Why didn’t you take her down?” “Because I wasn’t about to have a sexual assault charge on my permanent record.” These days instigators somehow got away with being victims.

“You need me to call the cops and an ambulance?” Derek asked the woman. He went to dial 911, and she exclaimed, “Oh fuck no. I don’t need to answer a zillion questions or have some paramedics groping me. I’m fine. Just naked.”

A reminder that had him stripping his long-sleeve Henley. “Here take this. Sorry, it’s a bit sweaty from my jog.”

She didn’t seem to care as she slid it over her head, covering those luscious curves.

Mmm-hmm.

And what the fuck was wrong with him? This woman had been attacked. He shouldn’t be looking at her lustily at all. If Grams were here, she’d have cuffed him for sure.

“Thanks,” the beautiful woman murmured.

“Can I call someone for you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Need a ride? I can call a cab and get them to drop you off at your place.”

Her teeth worried her lower lip before she admitted, “I don’t remember where I live.”

“You have amnesia?” He couldn’t help sounding incredulous.

“Seems so.” She shrugged.

“You really should go to a hospital if you got smacked in the head.”

“No doctors,” she scowled. “I’m more hungry than hurt.”

Not the reply he expected. “Do you need me to buy you some food?”

“Depends, know any places doing steak this time of day?” A fleeting smile curved her perfect lips.

“Not around here.”

“Pity. A good steak, barely singed, always fixes everything.”

A woman after his own heart. “Well, guess I should get going, that is unless you’ve changed your mind about me calling a cab.”

“Can’t I just go home with you? I just need a place to crash for a day or two.”

And here came the grift. Derek pursed his lips. “Listen, lady, I don’t do scams, and before you deny it, I know how this works. I take you to my place. Next thing I know, some gorilla shows up claiming to be your boyfriend. He beats the crap out of me, and you rob me blind.”

Her lips parted. “Does that actually happen?”

“Not to me, but I read about it on Reddit.”

“So that’s a no on a place to crash for a few days?”

“Guess you’ll have to amnesia-scam someone else.”

She sighed. “Bloody hell. As you might have guessed, I don’t have amnesia, but I can’t go home. It’s not safe.”

“Then why not say that in the first place?” Derek crossed his arms and gave her a stern look.

“Because I’m not looking for a hero. Just somewhere to hang while I figure shit out.”

“There are shelters you know.”

“The second place they’ll look,” she muttered.

“What’s the first?”

“My apartment.”

Her answers had him frowning. “Who’s looking for you?”

“Some bad folks. I need to lie low for a while until I know it’s safe, and before you ask, I don’t have money for a motel. I can’t contact my family or friends, not if I want to keep them safe. What a fucking clusterfuck.”

Look at her using Grams’ favorite word. While Derek got the impression the naked lady wasn’t telling the whole truth, he didn’t get a danger vibe from her. On the contrary, he found himself intrigued, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t take care of himself. If a goon showed up, he’d show him a lesson about what happened to scum who preyed on good Samaritans.

“You know what, you can come stay for a few days, but I warn you—I’ve got only one bed, and it’s mine.” Because his chivalry only went so far. “You’re welcome to the couch, though.”

“Couch is fine. I’ve slept on worse.”

“Follow me, then.”

As they began to walk, he asked, “What’s your name?”

“Athena.”

“As in the goddess?”

“Yeah. My mom loved the Greek gods. I’m Athena, and I have a brother called Ares, and a sister named Selene.”

“I’m Derek, after my gramps.” Idle chitchat, kind of incongruous given he walked with an almost naked hottie. He noticed her bare feet. “Do you need me to carry you?”

“Whatever for? My legs work.”

“Because you have no shoes and I don’t want you cutting your feet or something.”

She glanced at her toes. “Bah. I’ll be fine.”

Tough chick. Most broads would have been in hysterics after being robbed. Or… “Wait, were you actually robbed?”

“Not exactly. More like kidnapped and held prisoner.”

“By who?”

“Some very annoying people,” she grumbled. “When my chance came to escape, I didn’t have time to get dressed. Guess I’m lucky the first person I came across wasn’t a rapist.”

“Fuck those pervs. Grams says the only way to cure a rapist is to cut off his dick and choke him with it.”

A short laugh emerged from her. “I like your grandma already.”

“You’d be one of a few,” he admitted ruefully. “She scares off most folks.”

“Not you?” she questioned.

“Nah. She’s awesome. I hope to be half as tough as her one day.”

They reached his apartment building, an ugly thing built back in the seventies. Red brick with no character. He unlocked and held open the door for her to enter the vestibule. She angled her head and sniffed before saying, “Is there a building in this city that doesn’t have pee in the stairwells?”

She could smell it in the lobby? Might be time to ask the superintendent to bleach the stairs again. “Yeah, it’s getting to be bad in a lot of places. At least the rent isn’t horrendous.”

“Oh don’t apologize. Just pointing out a fact. My place had the same problem for a bit.”

“How did you solve it?”

“The pisser had an unfortunate tumble down the stairs and landed face first in it.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “By unfortunate, do you mean pushed?”

“Why, Derek, do I look like the type of girl who would sully her hands?” Athena drawled then winked.

He kept chuckling as they entered the elevator. “Kind of refreshing to meet someone who doesn’t put up with bullshit. Although I gotta wonder, how did you get involved in a bad scene?”

“By not being careful.” She leaned against the elevator wall as it rose. “And before you ask, I’d never met the folks who snagged me. All I know is apparently I met some kind of criteria.”

Given her looks, he could only come to one conclusion. Sex trafficked. Damn. Meaning no flirting by him, no leering, no nothing. Derek wasn’t about to make her trauma greater.

“Think they’ll come looking for you?”

“Probably.” She hesitated before adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone before they figure out where I am.”

She kept saying “they.” As in, more than one person.

“Even if they do show up, I’m not afraid,” he quickly stated. “More just wondering if I need to be more on guard than usual.”

“You should be fine. It’s me they’re after.”

“Any way I can help you get them off your back?” he offered, because his grandma raised him to be a gentleman who helped people in need. And he hated scum. If vigilante justice wasn’t punished more severely than actual criminals, he’d have long ago started cleaning up the city.

“You’ve already done enough by giving me a place to crash for a few days. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

With that, they arrived at his place. She declared the couch perfect, and then, despite his earlier claim, Derek tried to insist she take the bed because he suddenly felt bad about putting her on that lumpy thing. She refused.

He might have fought longer, but he needed sleep before his shift tonight. He pulled out some leftovers in the fridge, a bucket of fried chicken and another of hot wings which they devoured in silence—unless her staring meant something. After their meal, he said goodnight and hoped he wouldn’t wake to an apartment stripped of all his valuables. He’d be pissed if she took his collector edition Xbox.

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Book Cover: Dragon's Belle
Find a StoreGooglePlayAmazon/KindleKoboBarnes and NobleApple Books
Part of the Magic, Fur and Claws series:
  • Broomstick Breakdown
  • Dragon’s Belle

Dragons and witches aren’t supposed to mix, but love doesn’t care.


Clarabelle’s been tasked by her coven to look into the disappearance of some witches. During the course of her investigation, she saves a man.

Not just any man, a dragon.

Dracin can’t believe that, in his most embarrassing moment, he is rescued by a woman his beast insists is their mate. A tiny but fiery witch who makes him want more than his lonely existence.
Love should be simple, but between a coven that strongly disapproves and vampires determined to harm them, they’ll have to fight for their happily ever after.
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Published: 2024-02-01
Cover Artists:
Atra Luna's Book Cover and Logo Art
Genres:
dragon romance, fated mates, Paranormal Romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Witch Romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter One

“On to the next order of business. Changing our broom supplier.”

A very bored Clarabelle wanted to scream. The quarterly Colony Coven meeting was tedious, as usual. At times, Clarabelle wondered if she’d gotten stuck in a witchy version of Groundhog Day. Without even trying, she could have predicted the subjects they would cover, because they never seemed to change much.

First on the agenda, dwindling recruitment numbers. Today’s witches lacked interest in joining a coven with restrictive rules, even though those laws were in place for their protection. Not even the temptation of real power could draw them in. Gone were the days when most witches worshipped the Lord of Hades. Now, new wave, crystal-loving wannabe witches fell in with the Wiccans, who had been making a comeback.

READ MORE

Item two on the quarterly docket, the All Hallows’ Eve committee needed volunteers to ensure the yearly bonfire and ensuing orgy with Satan went smoothly. The Dark Lord did so hate it when he didn’t get at least one virgin to deflower. Never mind the fact that, in these modern times, virgins who made it to adulthood were a rarity.

Three, the coven coffers could use some replenishing. Bribing officials to look the other way when they almost burned down the forest didn’t come cheap. It didn’t matter the bonfire happened on private land. Eco warriors had been trying to get their old and sacred forest declared a historical site, complete with a permanent fire ban put in place.

Which led to number four, should they be hexing those annoying climate change twats? Bonfires weren’t their only target. They had a long list of causes they fought for that would affect the coven’s way of life. No witch wanted to see their gas stove banned. Cauldron cooking on an electric range just didn’t work the same.

Five—

“Are we boring you, Clarabelle?” The rebuke from Marjorie, current Coven Witch Superior dragged her attention back to the meeting at hand.

“Uh, sorry. Just thinking of the ride home. Forecast says rain.” She’d not checked before leaving on her broom.

“Afraid you’ll melt like your great-aunt?” mocked Jezebel. Then mimicked the famous line from the movie in a high-pitched voice, “I’m melting!”

“You know it was a badly cast rain-repelling spell that caused my aunt to die most horribly,” Clarabelle stated primly. “And you shouldn’t talk. With the amount of makeup you’re wearing, once you get wet, you’ll be lucky if you’re not mistaken for a ghoul.”

“Why you—”

“Daughters, that’s quite enough.” Marjorie’s firm tone quieted them both.

Clarabelle could have kicked herself for rising to Jezebel’s bait. “Sorry, Witch Superior,” she mumbled, even as she plotted revenge on Jezebel. The kind that couldn’t be traced to her. Their rivalry began in college and never stopped. Perhaps a hex on Jezebel’s favorite mascara? She’d read about one that turned eyelashes into wiggling spider legs.

“Seeing as how these meetings bore you, I have a task you can concentrate on. Two actually. Jezebel, you’ll be travelling to New York for Comicon with the aim of recruiting prospects.”

“Me? Why not her?” Jezebel jabbed a finger at Clarabelle.

“Because she is going to be investigating the suspicious disappearances of some witches in Ottawa, Canada.”

“Canada, as in the frozen wasteland north of us?” Jezebel snickered, whereas Clarabelle held in a sigh. She wasn’t about to point out that Ottawa pretty much had the same weather as New York because she didn’t want to piss off Marjorie, given the task sounded interesting. She’d not done anything of any note in months unless a pregnant hippo—by a drunk ogre—counted. He’d claimed he thought it was his wife. Said wife got offended seeing as how her girth was at least double that of the pregnant zoo animal.

Marjorie didn’t let Jezebel’s taunting pass. “Maybe you’re not the best person to send given your ignorance of simple geography. Do better or the next time you open your mouth to bray something stupid, I’ll turn you into a donkey.”

Ouch.

With that rebuke, the meeting ended, but Marjorie signaled for Clarabelle to remain behind.

She slid a folder over to Clarabelle, saying, “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the rest of the coven, but you should know there might be danger.”

“You think the disappearances are linked to foul play?”

“It seems most likely, seeing as how it’s not just witches reported missing. We also have received reports of numerous werewolves losing touch with the local pack, as well as a half-elf, and a gargoyle. And those are just the ones we know of.”

“We’re sure they didn’t relocate?” Clarabelle questioned.

“Without taking a single thing with them?”

“Any clues as to why anyone would want to harm or take them?”

Marjorie shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I mean, if this were the Dark Ages, I’d suspect witch hunters, but with the wolves and others… It could be anything.”

“You don’t think it’s the government, do you?” A fear held by non-humans everywhere. It didn’t help that Hollywood movies and shows like Stranger Things and blockbuster books like Firestarter, always had those with special powers being studied and dissected in the name of science and national security.

“My sources inside the various agencies haven’t heard anything, but it’s a possibility. Think you can handle it?”

“No worries. I’ll figure it out.”

A cocky claim that proved harder to achieve than expected. For one, Ottawa sprawled over quite a distance. Two, the local pack refused to meet with her, citing they didn’t like to deal with outsiders. At least the Ottawa Coven agreed to talk with her. Not exactly surprising since they were the ones to notify Colony Coven—the main coven that ruled over the rest in North America—of the disappearances of their members.

Clarabelle met them in a Starbucks of all places, the witches each sipping a different foamy brew. Five women in total, ranging in age with one thing in common; a weak affinity for magic. They eyed Clarabelle with curiosity.

The oldest of them greeted her first. “Hi, I’m Jewel, and these are my sisters, Kandy, Gertrude, Nelly, and Fiona.”

Seeing as how Jewel hadn’t done anything to protect their conversation, Clarabelle flicked her hands quickly to settle a dome of privacy over them, which widened some eyes. “Hello, I’m Clarabelle Montgomery, Colony Coven attaché. Sorry to meet you under such circumstances.”

“Thanks for coming. We didn’t know what else to do,” Jewel apologized.

“You did the right thing. Can anyone tell me anything about the missing witches?” Clarabelle asked.

The youngest of the group, Kandy, with enough piercings to make Clarabelle leery of her spell-casting, given metal distorted, had a theory. “Maybe Felicia and Molly ran off together because they’re in love.”

“With none of their things?” scoffed Fiona, whose fiery red hair didn’t come naturally.

Kandy didn’t seem daunted by her retort. “Minimalist living is a growing trend.”

Before Fiona could mock the girl, Gertrude, with her gray hair pinned in a chignon, snorted. “Don’t be an idiot and stop sniffing so much toad juice. They disappeared a month apart, and you know damned well Felicia was engaged to that lawyer in the Glebe.”

“Only the two gone?” Clarabelle clarified.

“We thought there was a third, but Gloria, unlike the others, cleared out her apartment. Most likely she joined another group. Not a big loss. She lacked a willingness to follow the rules,” explained Jewel.

“Did they mention anything suspicious? Maybe someone following them? Emails? Texts?”

The women shook their heads.

The shyest member, Nelly, from behind her long bangs, whispered, “Do you think we’re in danger?”

Much as she wanted to reassure, Clarabelle remained honest. “Until we know what’s going on, you might want to take precautions. Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Report anything that seems odd. Put protection spells on your doors and windows. Check-in with each other often.”

Not the news they wanted to hear. The meeting broke up not long after, and Clarabelle found herself musing on what she’d learned. Not much other than it felt like foul play. Women, even witches, didn’t disappear without packing at least a bag. As she walked back to her hotel, while deep in thought, she still paid attention to her surroundings and immediately felt it when someone started to stare.

Rather than turn around to peek, she cast a spell of surveillance on the clip holding her hair back. It recorded what it saw and she watched it once she returned to her hotel, which turned out to not be as interesting as expected. The replay showed some big blond dude staring after her before heading into a bar.

Just in case, she stored his image. After all, if witches were being targeted then she could be next.

Chapter Two

With his head pounding painfully, Dracin woke inside a cage.

A fucking cage!

He had no one to blame but himself. Dracin had come into the city to pick up a part for his truck. He’d been heading back to said vehicle when his attention got distracted by an interesting scent. The intriguing odor had him staring at a woman, trim and petite, her hair drawn back with a barrette. She strode with brisk confidence, not once turning to look, despite his rude interest.

Run after her, his inner beast demanded, but instead of stalking a stranger, he chose to distract himself by getting a drink. Dracin didn’t have that many, just a few shots of burning whiskey that should have barely given him a buzz, yet he’d staggered out of that bar into the night, wavering on his feet, seeing double.

Had someone roofied him? Possible, given he’d been elbow to elbow with strangers. And he had turned from his drink at one point to look over at the commotion caused by two guys arguing loudly. Had something been slipped in at that point?

Didn’t matter. He’d planned to sleep it off in his truck. A plan that failed, seeing as how some assholes jumped him as he was passing out in an alley on his way to the parking lot.

Four of them. It should have been a cakewalk to beat their asses, only Dracin’s reflexes were slow. His vision blurry. He’d swiped and missed. Bad luck seeing as one of his assailants got him in the face with a water balloon that exploded. Dracin roared in rage, ready to beat some ass, only his beast couldn’t emerge.

The balloon held some kind of sleeping drug. The bastards came prepared.

Dracin passed out, and the result? He woke up in a fucking cage.

Not for long.

A grab of the bars sent him reeling and hissing; the skin on his fingers blistering right away. The electricity coursing through the enclosure holding him made it clear someone didn’t want him to break out.

Joke was on them. Dracin just had to shift, and he’d be out of here. He might be fragile in this, his human form, but his beast? A lot tougher.

Wake up. He tried rousing his inner animal, to no avail. Whatever they’d drugged him with lingered in his system.

Goddammit!

Once he escaped, someone would pay. I am going to eat whoever is responsible.

If he escaped…

He had no choice. He’d not lived this long to die so ignobly.

Maybe he could shock his beast out of its sleep. He threw himself at the bars and held on tight, the current jolting his body hard enough he blacked out. He regained consciousness to find himself drooling on the floor. Of course at his most humiliated moment would be when his captor showed up to be annoying.

“Rise and shine, buttercup. Let’s get a closer look at what my lackeys dragged in.” The fellow who spoke wore a suit and had slicked-back hair. Young, but with the attitude of someone much older.

Finally, someone to direct his anger at. Dracin rose, seething at the sight of the man before him. Not just a man. A sniff had him frowning. “What are you?” Because he’d never smelled anything like the guy before.

“I’m insulted you don’t know.” The man flashed some fangs. “Does this help?

A fucking vampire? “Is that supposed to impress me? Mine are bigger, and if you don’t want your first and last sight of them to be when I bite you in half, then you’ll release me at once, bloodsucker.”

“Is that any way to talk to the guy in charge of your fresh meat?”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he stated, not that he planned to let the fucker off easy. Hell no. He’d make him regret ever daring to think he could cage Dracin.

“Whine all you like. I’m not letting you go. I’ve got plans for you.”

“Fuck your plans.”

The vampire shook his head. “Terrible manners. But those can be beaten into you. And speaking of manners, where are mine? I’m Theodore, and you are?”

“Going to make you regret your life choices.”

“So fiery. What fun I’ll have breaking you, Dracin Smith. Interesting first name, by the way. Unique. Yet, oddly, there is little known about you. A good thing we have your wallet, or we might have never even gotten that much.”

“What do you want?”

“What does anyone want in this world? Money. Lots of it.”

“Well, you kidnapped the wrong guy then.”

The vamp chuckled. “Oh, you’re hilarious. Who knew dragons could be so entertaining?”

The fucker knew Dracin’s shifter side. That didn’t bode well. People often assumed the stories of dragons having invaluable hoards were true. Dracin wished. His single mom had done her best to raise him, but they’d gone without quite often. Even now, he didn’t have much. He worked and made only enough to pay his bills.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dracin lied.

“Don’t be shy. I have to admit to being delighted my lackeys found you. When they told me they found a strange-smelling shifter, I thought you just needed a bath. But the moment I got a whiff, I knew. You’re not the first one I’ve ever met. Alas, your predecessor escaped. My fault. I wasn’t as prepared the last time. I’ve improved my methods since.” Spoken with a smile that would have done a shark proud.

“You’re wasting your time. I’m not rich.”

“Oh. I’m aware you’re not. Living in a shack outside of the city. Driving a beat-up truck. You really make dragons look bad.”

“Listen. you pompous asshole—”

“No, you listen,” Theodore hissed, drawing close. “Here is what’s going to happen. You’re going to get cleaned up because I’ve got buyers coming. People interested in owning their very own dragon. AKA you.”

“You would enslave me?” He couldn’t help the shocked reply.

“That depends on your new owner,” Theodore declared with a shrug. “Once they buy you, it’s up to them what they do. Chain you up, set you free, fuck you, hunt you, that’s really up to them to decide once they pay.”

His beast chose that moment to drowsily awake and growl, a low, inhuman sound.

The vamp grinned. “Seems like the drugs are wearing off. Good. The buyers will want to see what they’re bidding on.”

“I’m going to eat you.” He would, even though he could tell by the smell that vampire meat would taste bad.

“So bloodthirsty. I like it. I totally understand. I want to eat everyone who annoys me too. A good thing I don’t, or I’d have no one left to work for me.” Theodore offered a toothy grin.

Dracin had heard enough. With his beast awake, time to blow this joint. “Last chance to run, asshole.” He called on his dragon. Only nothing happened.

“Uh-oh, is someone having a problem shifting? This is probably a good time to mention the device we implanted. It’s the newest technology in controlling pets. With the press of a button inside this handy app, I can… You know what, how about I show you?” The vamp held out his phone and tapped the screen.

Instant agony hit and dropped Dracin to his knees. Holy fucking pain.

“Oops. Does that hurt? Good. That’s the punishment setting. It has different levels, and even better, the app can be programmed to accept voice commands from your owner so as to prevent accidents. We implemented it after the incident where a pet knocked the phone out of its owner’s hands and before he could recover it, well… Let’s just say he didn’t survive. I’m proud to reveal we’ve improved on it since then.” Theodore sounded so pleased.

Dracin’s stomach plummeted. “You fucker…”

“Is that an invitation? Alas, I have to refuse. I learned the last time I had a dragon in my grips that your blood is quite foul. Really disgusting.” Theodore made a moue. “Pity. I’ll bet you’d have made an excellent blood slave. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve much to do to get ready for the auction. Already there is much interest, and I am expecting a rather large crowd. I can’t wait to see the bidding. Just so you know, potential buyers will be popping by for a peek. Try being nice to the ones that appeal. Or stay feisty. Up to you. I know a few that prefer a savage to make things interesting whether it be for fighting or sex.”

Dracin growled, but the unimpressed vamp waggled his fingers and left.

Fucking dick. When he got out…

More like if.

Dracin took stock of the situation. Outside his cage he noticed two more, smaller and empty. Only his had a thick wire running across the floor. A glance overhead showed his enclosure stood ten feet tall, big enough for him to shift if that fucker hadn’t done something to prevent it.

The damp concrete floor hinted of mildew but, more annoying, the pungent aroma and noticeable lumps of rat scat. It reminded him of the shitholes he grew up in, the things he’d done to survive. He’d promised himself he’d never eat rat again. He really hoped he didn’t have to break that promise.

The basement had no windows but did have a few pillars and the remnants of faint lines on the floor. An abandoned parking garage, making it unlikely anyone would hear or find him. A human-sized door marked the exit on one side, and on the other, a ramp that angled upward and around a corner finished off the space. Nothing useful.

Next, he did a check of his belongings and body. He wore his clothes but lacked his phone and wallet. Though he appeared uninjured, the implant concerned him. He ran his hands over his flesh, seeing if he could find the entrance wound, but there was none. His shifter healing patched him up too damned fast.

He had to find the device being used to control him. Only how? He palpated his flesh to no avail.

Hungry. His dragon didn’t seem to care they were in a cage with no food. It eyed the rat that boldly crept into view.

No, Dracin replied.

Hungry. A plaintive demand.

“I said fucking no,” Dracin snapped, which led to his big bad beast sulking, which didn’t help his pounding head.

An urge to piss left him eyeing the bucket left for him and gave him an idea. While he really wanted to whizz on the bars, he remembered a Darwin award given to a dude who’d gotten drunk, climbed some kind of electrical pole, and let loose on the wire. He died because electricity and urine didn’t play well together.

He could still use that knowledge, but, being a smart guy, Dracin filled the bucket instead. The pungent smell made him grimace. This had better work. Being careful to hold only the plastic parts of his bucket, he poured his piss on the bars then stood back while it sizzled and popped. The lights flickered. He knew his plan worked when the humming stopped.

Next problem, the bars.

He grabbed hold and pulled. They didn’t budge. He’d kind of expected that.

“All right, big guy, your turn to try.”

The sulking dragon within instantly perked up. Surely the device couldn’t control the shift as the vampire boasted. Most likely the drugs still affected him, but if he tried hard enough, his beast could break through. It had to.

Dracin closed his eyes as his beast began to surge and—

He woke on the floor, head pounding worse than before, not improved by his whimpering dragon.

It was true. The fucking implant and not lingering drugs impeded his ability to shift.

“Corpse fucker! Argh!” Dracin yelled, unable to quell his frustration.

If he couldn’t escape, he was well and truly screwed. No one would come to the rescue. Dracin took living a solitary life quite seriously. Hardly any friends. No family since Mom died ages ago. Just him. And now that he found himself truly alone, he kind of regretted that choice. Then again, friendships weren’t exactly easy to make for a guy like him. The werewolves had their packs and tended to not socialize outside them. Other non-humans, while rare, tended to steer clear of him. He blamed Hollywood for making them think dragons ate everyone who got close—as if they could compare to a tender hunk of beef. Of course, when it came to humans, he’d yet to meet one he didn’t want to eat after a while. Hmm, maybe Hollywood wasn’t entirely far off.

Forget a girlfriend. Dracin fucked only when he really got tired of his hand. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women, just that, after sex, he tended to eye them and think, not the one. As if there was someone for an ornery bastard like him.

The melancholy roused his annoyance, and Dracin yanked once more on the bars, only to bellow as they sizzled his flesh again. They’d reset the breaker while he was passed out.

“You fucking bastard. I am going to hunt your scrawny ass. I will pluck out your eyes like grapes. Remove your head and shove it up your ass. Come here and face me, you coward.” At least give him a chance to fight.

No one replied to his challenge.

For the first time since he’d escaped the poverty that plagued his childhood, Dracin felt despair. The digging fingers of dread gripped him tight, urging him to give up hope.

But he refused to yield.

He’d not given up when lying on the ground, cold and hungry.

He’d not given up when, as a small and ill-dressed boy, he gotten beaten up.

He’d not given up when his mother, the only person he’d ever loved, died in a hit-and-run.

No. He’d clawed his way out of poverty. He’d gotten his revenge on those who hurt him. Found the fucker who murdered his mom and had him arrested.

He’d find a way out of this clusterfuck too.

In the meantime, he had to survive. But forget playing nice.

When Theodore returned later that day, bringing the first of the clients, Dracin ignored them. Chose pain over doing tricks.

No, he would not shift.

No, he wouldn’t play their game.

And so he suffered.

And waited.

Waited for his chance to escape.

COLLAPSE
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