Eve Langlais ~ New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of romance, fantasy and more.
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Tracking the Alpha

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Book Cover: Tracking the Alpha
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Part of the Project Therianthrope series:
  • Tracking the Alpha

A betrayal by those he trusted leads to one final mission.

Vengeance.

Captain Barrett Wilson never agreed to be experimented on by his superior officers, but he wasn’t given a choice. When he awakes in captivity, he wants nothing more than to escape, but it’s only when the beast within roars free that Barrett manages to flee his prison.

The nearby forest becomes his home and feeding ground, the primal urges raging through his body only satisfied by the blood of his enemies. But his murderous rampage ends when the huntress comes tracking.

Her scent? Unlike anything he’s ever encountered.

Want her.


Her stealth? A skill he can’t help but admire.


Claim her.

And when she discovers the secret to unlocking the man within the wolf…

Perhaps there’s still hope for Barrett, but only if he succeeds with his mission for vengeance. Those who changed him must die. To his surprise, when the huntress hears of his plan, she becomes his ally—and lover.

However, their happily ever after depends on them ridding themselves of the one obstacle in their way: The general in charge of Project Therianthrope.

Available on: 2025-09-18
Cover Artists:
Alex with Addictive Covers (Website)
Genres:
Action and Adventure, genetic experimention, killer hero, killer heroine, Paranormal Romance, Shapeshifter Romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

“General!” Major Stevens barged into General Walt Davidson’s tent, ruining his planned nap.

“You’d better have a good excuse for invading my tent without permission,” snarled Walt, his patience short given the many restless nights spent tossing and turning on his wretched cot.

“Sir, something’s happened and you’re needed in the medical tent right away,” huffed Stevens, his face flushed either from excitement or heat.

“Whatever’s occurred, I highly doubt it requires my presence,” drawled Walt. “Let the doctors handle it.”

“But, sir—”

Walt interrupted. “There are no buts. I’m a busy man who doesn’t have time for panic when there is clear protocol to follow. If someone died, fill out the paperwork and I’ll look it over when I’m back at my desk.”

“No one died, sir. It’s something else. Something never seen before.”

READ MORE

Not words any leader liked to hear and Walt eyed the short distance between him and the major. “If the medical team is dealing with a possible contagion, then they should be quarantining everyone that comes into contact with Patient Zero, which includes you, Major, if you were exposed. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

“It’s not a disease, sir. At least, we don’t think it is?” The statement ended on a lilting query. “It’s actually rather incredible. The higher-ups will want to hear about it.”

Dammit, despite himself, intrigue roused, and Walt pursed his lips. The major, not a man usually prone to panic or drama, appeared quite flustered. “What exactly is going on in medical?”

“I’d explain, but honestly, you have to see it to believe it.”

So much for his nap. “This better be good,” Walt grumbled as he buttoned his jacket, rendering himself presentable. Uniform standards could be annoying, especially in the dry desert heat of the Middle East where he’d been stationed. Six months since he’d arrived to run the peacekeeping mission a few hundred kilometers from Kandahar. Six months of dust in everything. Military food rations. Extreme heat that resulted in grumpy troops, a mood only worsened by the lack of action. The Canadian Armed Forces too often took turning the other cheek too far. Even when insurgents attacked their peaceful convoys meant to help the people in the area, they’d been ordered to not retaliate. What a joke. Why bother sending soldiers if they weren’t allowed to fight?

Walt exited the tent and, despite the dusty haze stretching across the sky, squinted to see. The sun blared, hot and bright. It rose without fail every fucking day. He never thought he’d miss the gloomy cold days of winter back in Canada.

As Walt followed Major Stevens through the camp of tents and crates, soldiers lounging about snapped to attention, heels clacking together, hands angled and hitting their foreheads in a salute.

Walt acknowledged no one. One didn’t achieve and maintain a fierce reputation by being friendly with the lower ranks.

The medical tent, clearly marked with a giant red cross, had a half-dozen armed soldiers surrounding it, raising his brow. “Is there a threat inside? You assured me there was no contagion.”

“It’s a precaution,” the major answered. “While the soldier being treated has the potential to cause injury, I was more concerned about ensuring he couldn’t escape.”

More and more mysterious. So this was about someone under his command.

As Walt stepped past the stiff guards, he pulled aside the flap covering the doorway. “Well, let’s see what’s got you in such a—” The next words died on his tongue. As Walt’s eyes narrowed, he muttered, “How did a wolf get inside our medical tent?”

“That’s not a wolf, sir. You’re looking at Corporal Mato Nakai,” Major Stevens announced.

The tall wolf stood between a pair of medical gurneys with its hackles raised, growling at the soldiers pointing guns at it. Dr. Levy stood behind them, looking pale.

“Explain, Major.”

“Not much to tell, sir. Corporal Nakai was out with his section delivering supplies to one of the rural villages. Upon their return to camp, they were attacked. The vehicle they were in flipped and rolled. Two soldiers died instantly. Nakai and Philips were severely injured and brought back to camp for treatment.”

“We were attacked and this the first I’m hearing of it?” Walt snapped.

“You told me to not bother you unless it was a real emergency,” the major reminded. “I was preparing a report to present later when the doctor on duty had me fetched to show me what happened to Corporal Nakai.”

“And what is the doctor claiming happened?” Walt crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, apparently when Dr. Levy started cleaning the corporal’s wounds, Nakai went into convulsions and transformed from a man to this.” The major swept a hand in the direction of the wolf.

“Do you take me for an idiot?” Walt didn’t fall for the elaborate prank. Bored soldiers sometimes thought they could pull a fast one on their commanding officer. They’d soon find out he didn’t brook that kind of frivolous nonsense.

“Sir?”

“These kinds of stunts are not amusing and have no place in a military operation,” Walt barked. “I want to know who was involved with bringing a filthy wild animal into a sterile environment. You do realize that, because of this ill-thought caper, everything in here will have to be either tossed or scrubbed clean?”

“I assure you, General, this is no joke. That really is Corporal Nakai,” Dr. Levy ventured from behind a soldier to exclaim. “As unbelievable as it sounds, I saw it happen.”

“Bullshit.” The expletive exploded from his lips. “People do not turn into wolves. I don’t care how many werewolf movies Hollywood puts out. It’s impossible. Now, you, and whoever else was involved, will present yourselves in the command tent at fifteen hundred hours for punishment detail.”

“Sir, it’s the truth,” Dr. Levy interjected.

“It’s a medical miracle that needs to be studied,” the major added.

“Stop with the lying. The prank failed.” Walt pulled his sidearm and took aim at the wolf, which stopped baring its teeth and, with a lowered head, stared at him steadily. Blame the major’s insistence for Walt imagining he saw intelligence in the gaze.

Bang.

The wild creature lifted its shaggy head fast enough the bullet missed the spot between the eyes where he’d been aiming and struck it in the chest. The wolf didn’t yelp or try to flee despite the fact blood poured from the hole in its hairy chest. It also never took its gaze from the general’s, even when its entire body began to shake and spasm in the throes of death.

Walt went to pivot and leave, but Dr. Levy, in a breach that would result in extra punishment, lurched in his direction and grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t turn away. Watch. I think it’s happening again.”

As Walt’s mouth opened to reprimand, the words remained unspoken for the wolf lay on the floor of the medical tent shivering so hard its limb straightened. Hair receded. Paws melted into hands and feet. A muzzle shrank inwards to become a mouth with a nose in the middle of a human face.

By the time the shivering ceased, the wolf was gone. In its place, a man. A naked man with jet-black hair and the same unwavering, intent stare.

“Holy fuck.” The only thing the general could say that fit the moment.

“I told you it was true,” the major crowed in relief.

Walt took a step forward. “State your name.”

The naked man rose to his feet—flesh unmarked by any wounds—and, in spite of the incongruity of the situation, saluted. “Corporal Nakai, sir.”

“I need you to explain what just happened, Corporal.”

The man’s face twisted. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

At the refusal, Walt’s brow lifted. “I gave you an order.

“I realize that, sir. However, I swore an oath I can’t break.”

“You know I can’t ignore what just happened here.”

Nakai’s lips pinched. “I wish you would, sir.”

Ignore what might be the single greatest discovery of his career? Like fuck.

The general pointed. “Major, take the corporal into custody.”

Nakai foolishly thought he could run. He snared a scalpel and dove for the side of the tent. The blade tore through the canvas, and Nakai slipped through the gap, but the major had planned well by placing soldiers just outside.

The corporal still tried to plow through them and failed. A captured Nakai found himself in restraints and placed under guard in the tent used as a jail for misbehaving soldiers. Usually, it held those who’d disgraced their uniform in some fashion like getting stupid drunk or harassing the locals. This time, it held a man who was also somehow a wolf.

A man who steadfastly refused to answer questions until the major applied the right kind of pressure. Unfortunately, Nakai didn’t survive the interrogation. However, his preserved body got shipped to a lab back in Canada, and by the time Walt returned, Nakai’s extended family—which consisted of an uncle and sister—had been taken into custody. To everyone’s surprise and delight, it turned out they, too, could shift shapes like the corporal, something the government took great interest in.

And thus was Project Therianthrope born.

Chapter 1

Several years later…

 

The march from the barracks to headquarters didn’t take long, a good thing since it had begun to rain and Barrett really didn’t want to spend another hour spit-shining his boots when he could be having beers and winning money playing billiards.

Their entire section, under Captain Barrett Wilson’s command, had received the order to present themselves to General Davidson, but they’d not been told why, which led to the soldiers throwing out theories.

“Think we’re finally going to get deployed?” asked Slater, breaking the silence permeating the room where they’d been told to wait.

“I already told you, I have no idea,” growled Barrett for the umpteenth time. He’d not known the first time he’d been asked as he barked at them all to tuck in their shirts and be ready to move out. Nor had he known the fourth time when jogging up the stairs. Nor the seventh as they’d been told to wait until the general was ready to see them. A clueless Barrett really wished he had an answer because this kind of summons didn’t usually occur without a hint. Were they in trouble? About to be commended? Getting bad news?

“Think this meeting has to do with the intense medical screening they put us through?” questioned Freya. The most petite member of their section had been the only one to cheerfully submit to the battery of tests. Bloodwork, tissue samples, measurements of every kind known to medical science that went beyond, height, weight, and blood pressure.

“Must be for something special,” drawled Radley. “I mean, why else make us fill out that questionnaire that wanted to know everything about our personal lives?”

Another oddity. It wanted them to indicate every medical ailment and procedure they’d ever undergone. Had them list every member of their immediate and extended family, whether dead or alive, and then also asked their medical history. Barrett’s didn’t take long. Orphaned at a young age by drug-addicted parents who died of overdoses. No family to take him in. As for his own history, the only time he ever ended up in the hospital had been for a broken arm skateboarding. He'd always been healthy.

“As if anyone can remember every single time they got sick,” Slater remarked.

“I just put from age six to twelve,” Gage added with a laugh. He joked about his heart issue as if it were nothing, and yet Barrett knew it had been a tense time, as he’d almost died several times until the operation that fixed his irregular heartbeat. Gage had only barely managed to get accepted into the military. Blame the loosening of certain regulations given the low sign-up numbers.

“At least you guys didn’t have to do the entire section on periods,” complained Zendaya, her full lips pursing in annoyance.

“I ran out of room when it asked me to list sexual encounters,” bragged Phoenix, the section’s Casanova and lieutenant.

“Bet you needed an extra page to list treated diseases too,” muttered Idris, the most serious member of their section, who rarely engaged in banter but when he did...

“Hey, I’ll have you know I always wear a rubber!” exclaimed Phoenix.

“Says the guy who panicked just last month when that chick you hooked up with claimed she was pregnant,” retorted Slater.

“Which turned out to be a scam,” Phoenix reminded. “She was already prego when we did the tango. She was just looking for someone to pay for the kid.”

Barrett pinched the bridge of his nose as the discussion devolved. “Enough. We’re supposed to be patiently waiting. Next person to speak is gonna drop and give me fifty.”

And what did those assholes do?

Everyone but Idris hit the floor and began pumping them out so they could continue to rag on each other. Barrett really needed to find a more effective discipline measure.

The thick wooden door opened, and Major Stevens poked his head out, sending the section scrambling to their feet to stand at attention. There was rustling as everyone saluted, including Barrett.

The major’s lips pursed. “The general will see you now.”

Barrett marched first into the room, set up boardroom style with a long table flanked by chairs on one side only. He stopped a few feet from it and snapped a salute. His section fell into line behind him, and the click of heels let him know they followed formal military protocol even though most of the people in the room appeared civilian.

Not that it mattered, seeing as how the stony-faced general sat amidst the men and women wearing white coats.

Major Stevens shut the door and took up a position to the left of it. Silence fell as those seated eyed Barrett and his section.

General Davidson—with a reputation for being a hardass and a bit of an asshole—barked, “At ease.”

As his feet spread shoulder width, Barrett dropped his hands behind his back, adopting a more relaxed pose, which belied the tension he couldn’t shake. Why did the general want to meet with them? And why were so many doctors present? Had they picked up a bug on their last mission? It seemed unlikely, seeing as how they’d been at the Petawawa base now for more than a month.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been summoned,” General Davidson said. “And I will get to that in a moment. First off, it goes without saying that nothing we speak of today leaves this room. To ensure that isn’t an issue there will be no outside communication at all.”

“None?” blurted Takhi, the shyest in their group. “But my mother—”

“Will be notified that you are currently unavailable, which I will remind is normal given your line of work,” the general snapped, interrupting Takhi.

Barrett didn’t need to see her face to know it would be stiff and fighting tears. Takhi had learned her mother was in hospice with stage-four cancer, and she’d just submitted her compassionate leave request so she could be with her mother for her final days.

The general drummed his fingers on the table. “I will graciously forgive the outburst, but understand right now, I will brook no other interruption. As it is, count yourself lucky that amongst all the sections tested, yours proved the most promising. A blend of the sexes as well as racial backgrounds that will give us just the right amount of variety.”

At the strange choice of words, Barrett fought to keep his brow from creasing in a frown. Since when did variety matter on a mission?

“You won’t have heard, given the top-secret classification, but I’ve been put in charge of a special project. One that will revolutionize armies, not just in Canada but around the world. As part of the development and testing, I’ve been given leeway to recruit whomever I want for it. Congratulations. Your section won.” The smile sent a shiver down Barrett’s spine.

“Once we’re done with this meeting, you will be leaving directly for the facility, and before you ask, no, you may not pack a bag or call anyone.”

The order led to Takhi ignoring the general’s earlier warning. “Sir, I’m sorry, but I must ask to be excused on compassionate grounds. My mother’s been placed in hospice and—”

The general didn’t let Takhi finish. “This isn’t something any of you can decline.”

“But—”

“Continue to argue, corporal, and you will be placed under arrest for disobeying a senior officer and dereliction of duty.”

That sealed Takhi’s mouth, and Barrett’s unease grew. Usually, in cases such as Takhi’s, where a close family member was gravely ill, concessions were made. Why would the general not simply replace Takhi? Or remove her entirely, given her distraction would be detrimental to the outcome of this secret project?

“As I was saying, your section was chosen only after very careful consideration to participate in this project. There will be no exceptions. Once you leave this room, you will be immediately transported to our North Bay facility to begin undergoing treatments.”

This time, Barrett couldn’t contain himself. “Treatments, sir? As in, medical procedures?”

“Yes. And before you ask, they are experimental in nature.” The general’s expression turned sly. “But you needn’t worry much. We’ve managed to eliminate most of the risks associated with it.”

Really not the most reassuring thing to say and Phoenix took exception. “Excuse me, General, but my contract with the military does not give you permission to use me as a guinea pig.”

“It doesn’t. However, given the nature of this project, special rights have been assigned to me, and that includes recruiting whomever I like,” the general replied with a smug smile.

“I’m pretty sure my lawyer will have something to say about that,” Phoenix replied.

“I’m sure many people would protest what I’m doing if they knew about it. But they won’t ever find out because you won’t have a chance to tattle.” A flat statement that came with a cold stare.

“You can’t conduct experiments on people,” blurted Freya. “It’s against the Nuremberg Code.”

“Can’t isn’t a word that applies to me and my mandate. The moment you walked into this room, you lost all rights and are now military assets to be used as I need, but there is good news. The treatments you’ll be undergoing will turn you into better soldiers. Stronger. Most resistant to injury. Sharper in both acuity and agility. You should be thanking me, as you’ll be getting it for free.”

“This is bullshit,” Phoenix huffed. “I am not agreeing to be a part of this.”

“You don’t have a choice,” snapped Davidson.

“Yeah, I do. Go ahead and court martial my ass. I’ll take defending my actions in front of a panel over being some kind of lab rat. I’m out of here.”

Despite his military training that told him not to let distraction turn his head, Barrett couldn’t help but watch as Phoenix headed for the door, flanked by a pair of military police. They blocked the exit, and Phoenix growled, “Either arrest me or move out of the way.”

The MPs didn’t move, but Major Stevens did, hastening to Phoenix’s side.

Only when Phoenix exclaimed, “What the fuck did you just jab me with?” did Barrett notice the needle in the major’s hand.

What the fuck?

Phoenix immediately slumped to the floor, and Barrett’s stomach tightened into a ball. Something was gravely wrong here. This kind of shit didn’t happen. He whirled to face the civilians watching and, with his jaw tight, growled, “The general is out of line, and you all know it. When his superiors find out what he’s done—”

“They’ll applaud me because, you see, my orders and funding for this project come from the highest levels of government with approval from the prime minister herself. You see, with declining enrollment numbers and the constantly changing challenges facing the world today, from new technology to bio-based weapons and ever more clever terrorists, we need something to help us get an edge on those who see us as weak. It’s time we forced the respect of other countries, who, for too long, have seen the Canadian Military as a joke. They won’t be laughing at us once they see what our new troops can do. On the contrary, they’ll be clamoring for our secret.” The general’s lips pulled into a taut smile. “And we might just sell it to them for the right price.”

Barrett had heard enough. Despite having seen what happened to Phoenix, he couldn’t let the soldiers under his command be subjected to this madness. The major might be able to stop one soldier, but not the remaining eight of them at once.

“Soldiers, with me,” Barrett shouted as he pivoted into motion. He had no real plan other than to rush the door. Once past it, they only needed to escape the anteroom before they entered an area with people. People that wouldn’t stay quiet if they saw military personnel being attacked and drugged into submission.

The MPs by the door stepped aside, seeing Barrett and the seven remaining members of the section rushing them. Barrett didn’t need to say a word for Idris to bend and grab Phoenix, slinging him over his burly shoulder.

Leave no man—or woman—behind.

They made it to the antechamber without anyone being jabbed with a sedative. Barrett aimed for the exit to the hallway, only to find it locked. He pulled and turned at the knob with no success.

“What now, Captain?” huffed Gage.

“We kick it down.” Barrett took a step back and lifted his boot to smash.

Bang. He hit the panel solidly, and it didn’t budge.

“Captain, they appear to have locked us in,” Zendaya reported as she yanked the knob for the door they’d just passed through.

Penned like rats.

“They’ll have to open it at one point,” Barrett growled. “Be ready.”

No one mentioned the fact they might be facing armed military police with their bare hands. By now, they all realized they had no choice but to fight lest they become pawns in a medical experiment peppered with red flags. Surely the prime minister hadn’t approved illegal testing on soldiers? The general must have gone rogue. The outcry once his actions were revealed would be what saved Barrett and the others from being jailed and possibly dishonorably discharged. Of course, that scenario required them escaping first.

“Does anyone else hear hissing?” Slater inquired.

A swivel of Barrett’s head pinpointed the source. The vents in the ceiling, one in each corner, emitted a pale gas.

While knowing it would be useless, he still barked a command. “Cover your mouth and nose. Avoid breathing.”

The soldiers did their best to avoid inhaling the spreading fumes. However, without a properly fitted gas mask, once their lungs grew too tight, they couldn’t avoid taking a breath.

Soon as Barrett sucked in, lethargy spread rapidly through his limbs, stealing his strength. As his knees buckled, he noticed his section falling to the floor one by one. His eyelids grew heavy. Thoughts muddled. His tongue too thick to speak.

Thunk. He lost consciousness before he face-planted, but he sure as hell felt the broken nose and bruising when he woke.

Woke in a concrete chamber wearing only a thin hospital-type gown, alone but for the general’s mocking voice. “Welcome to Project Therianthrope, Patient 73.”

COLLAPSE
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Fairytale Bureau Collection (Books 1 – 3)

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Part of the Fairytale Bureau series:
  • Hood’s Caper
  • Cinder’s Trial
  • Belle’s Quest
  • Fairytale Bureau Collection (Books 1 – 3)

In a world where fairytales keep coming to life, there’s a bureau dedicated to helping the victims caught up in the Grimm Effect. But sometimes even those investigators fall prey to a happily ever after… 

Enjoy this collection of three books featuring previously released stories: 
  • Hood’s Caper ~ Blanche Hood managed to evade the Red-Cap curse as a teen when she didn’t fall for the huntsman or get eaten by the wolf. But looks like the curse is revving up for another try, and this time it’s out for blood. Her blood. Can she track down the serial killer wolf before it’s too late for love?
  • Cinder’s Trial ~ Cinder thought she’d beaten the Grimm Effect when she ditched the old man who kept chasing her at the ball. However, decades later, her fairy godmother pops back in for round two. No thanks. Cinder intends to marry for love and not because of a curse, but avoiding the marriage trap isn’t easy when she’s forced to act as liaison for a European prince. A good thing she’s got a Grimm Knight to keep her distracted.
  • Belle’s Quest ~ Belle is determined to be the one who ends the Grimm Effect but in a hairy twist, the evil magic fights back and turns her into the beast. Should she admit defeat and take up residence in a dreary castle where she can roar at trespassers, or see if she can end the curse by giving true love a try?
Dive into these lighthearted romances with faiytale twists that will keep you reading past your bedtime.
Published: 2025-02-20
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, curse romance, dark humor, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, royalty romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, twisted fairytale, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
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The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)

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Book Cover: The Grae Sisters (Books 1 - 3)
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Part of the The Grae Sisters series:
  • The Grae Sisters (Books 1 – 3)
  • Warden and the Assassin
  • Professor and the Seer
  • Gentleman and the Witch
An urban fantasy in three parts  featuring very unique triplets.
The Grae Sisters is a three book collection of the following previously release titles.
• Warden and the Assassin ~ I’m the sister you don’t want to meet in a dark alley. Probably why a warden named Bane hires me to protect him from an upcoming arcane event. The odds are stacked against me, but I’m determined to win this fight and Bane’s love.
• Professor and the Seer ~ I’ve been cursed with seeing the future including one where the professor I’ve fallen in love with dies at my feet. There has to be a way to change what’s to come, but what if my choices bring about the apocalypse?
• Gentleman and the Witch ~ The ex-god who demands my aid is no gentleman, but then again, this witch is no lady. Together we will hunt beyond the Earthly dimension in search of our common enemy.  An enemy who miscalculated. Never threaten this witch because I will do anything, even end the world, to avenge those I love.
A blend of urban fantasy and romance that will keep you reading well past your bedtime.
Published: 2024-11-21
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, dark humor, god romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, psychic romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, Urban Fantasy, Witch Romance, wizard romance
Tags:
english
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Earth’s Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)

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Book Cover: Earth's Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)
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Part of the Earth's Magic series:
  • Earth’s Magic : Collection One (Books 1-3)
  • Earth’s Magic : Collection Two (Books 4- 6)
  • Earth’s Daughter
  • Earth’s Lair
  • Earth’s Elf
  • Earth’s Paladin
  • Earth’s Secret
  • Earth’s Triangle

A dryad on a mission, a witch with a secret, and two hounds ready to howl for love, So much to love in this paranormal romance bundle.

The Earth’s Magic Collection Two contains previously released titles:

• Earth’s Paladin ~ The world might not be ready for Mother Earth’s slightly murderous champion. Too bad, because she’s about to fertilize gardens the old-fashioned way; with the blood of her enemies. Will love temper her need for vengeance?
• Earth’s Secret ~ This Cryptid Authority agent—and witch—has been tasked with investigating a string of arsons. To her surprise, she uncovers a link to her past and now must scramble to survive with the help of her famous—and handsome—partner.
• Earth’s Triangle  ~ These hounds have orders from their goddess to protect a human. Not the most exciting job until they meet her face to face. Adeline’s charm gets their hearts and back paws thumping, but there is a problem: Why are zombies attracted to her?

Lighthearted, paranormal fun in a world where anything can happen, and love always prevails.
Published: 2024-10-31
Genres:
anthology/boxset/collection, curse romance, dark humor, dryad romance, killer hero, killer heroine, magic and sorcery, Menage/Polyamory, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, second chance romance, Shapeshifter Romance, Supernatural Mystery, werewolf romance, Witch Romance
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Blood Pack Beginning

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Part of the Pack series:
  • Defying Pack Law
  • Betraying the Pack
  • Seeking Pack Redemption
  • New Pack Order
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Pack Law doesn’t apply to vampires, but Sasha is still determined to take three wolves as her mates.

Sasha lives in the shadows, emerging only to fight at the behest of her sire. But her latest assignment hits a snag in the form of a few Lycans. They aren’t the rogues she was looking for but might be the men she needs—if she can get them to heel. When they’re not howling and shedding, they’re barking at each other, trying to establish who will be her lover.

There’s big and burly Amir, who gave up everything for his family but wants to do something meaningful with his life.

Cyrus, the cynical skeptic who is leery of the tenuous alliance between vampires and Lycans.

The playful Diego who is ready to do whatever it takes to impress Sasha.

Three delectable Lycans means Sasha has some choices to make. Invest in a dog food company? Buy some flea collars? Maybe take them as her mates, so long as they understand there can only be one alpha…

Her.

However, seduction isn’t the most pressing issue at hand. The death of the trouble making Morpheus has revealed a mysterious and even more dangerous player. Lycans, even dormants, are being culled by this mysterious master and, as if she didn’t have enough on her plate, there’s reports of monsters attacking humans. Fighting ghouls is easy compared to stopping a traitor who would have their kind exposed to humanity.

Can Sasha and her Lycan allies—and lovers—stop the coming conflict before it’s too late?

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Published: 2025-03-06
Cover Artists:
Glowing Moon Designs
Genres:
dark romance, fated mates, killer hero, killer heroine, Menage/Polyamory, Paranormal Romance, reverse harem, Shapeshifter Romance, vampire romance, werewolf romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Prologue

Fingers dragged across the surface of the vertical glass tank, the liquid within the deep burgundy of a finely aged wine. However, this fluid would never be found in a corked bottle. A pity, since only the finest vintage of blood had been used. Only the best would do.

A hint of movement within the enclosed capsule gave hope and led to a whispered, “Soon, my love. Soon we shall be together.”

Regeneration took time, especially with grievous wounds. However, there were ways of speeding up the process. Hence the need for only the most rare and delicious of blood.

A whisper in the mind hinted of hunger, indicating a need to refresh the contents of the tank.

“Patience. A fresh supply shall be arriving momentarily.” Acquiring subjects who would donate to the tank had become slightly more challenging, as those being hunted now took more precautions.

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The brief moment of connection faded. At least they’d been happening more often of late.

Long strides brought them from the vault protecting the tank. It clanged shut behind and hissed as it sealed. No chances would be taken, for death had already come much too close to the one cherished above all.

The many barriers, installed to protect, opened and shut behind with but a thought. No key existed for these portals by design. Only those accompanied and with permission could enter. The servants used to perform maintenance didn’t retain any memories of their chores. None could know, not until the time was ripe.

Rising to a level above brought them to the preparation area where they collected the precious and necessary blood. Or would have collected, if not for the empty cages. The last of the subjects had been drained. Soon, though, new donors would fill those spots. They’d sacrifice the ripest among them to the tank, while those who lacked the right kind of richness to their blood would be put to other use.

Past the blood collection chamber, they entered the transformation wing, also sitting empty, the last of the latent Lycans either transformed or dead. The process to change them had proven tricky. The torture protocol hadn’t been difficult to conduct. Even better, the enjoyment found in making the subjects scream and plead for a mercy that wouldn’t be forthcoming. It was the other element of the transformation recipe that had been more elusive. The transformation required pain, that of the body and soul, as well as a true mating to activate a latent’s dormant wolf. Many dormants failed to make the transition, not because they didn’t scream in agony but more because the true mates of the latents proved difficult to find.

Hence why, unlike Morpheus, they expanded their scope. While dormants would still be acquired, it was time for the Lycans to also do their part. Already some thralls, their minds initially captured by Morpheus and Roderick, remained nestled amongst some of the packs. Working from within, their subtle treachery moving the plan forward.

Those that didn’t feed the tank would grow the army that would soon be unleashed upon the world, starting a war neither Lycan nor humanity suspected—or could stop.

The time for living in the shadows had passed, even as many on the vampire council refused to accept this new truth. Fools. It would seem in the centuries they’d spent buried in their dark prison they’d learned nothing. The explosion of social media and cameras capturing every event of people’s lives made keeping the secret of vampires and Lycans next to impossible, so might as well force the revelation and get it over and done with.

If all went according to plan, though, there would be no repeat of the era where pitchfork and torch-wielding peons hunted nonhumans almost to extinction. The mundane that multiplied like roaches might have access to weaponry and greater numbers, but it would take only a few key players in government to hamstring any attempt at defense.

A scuffing approach had them whirling. Shadows gathered as a cloak to cover them head to toe.

The young man who entered sniffed and looked around before calling out. “Master?”

The shadows were released to reveal their presence. “What do you want?”

The groveling dog, barely more than a pup, threw themselves prostrate at their feet and, with face pressed to the floor, reported, “The hunters have reached the town of Moon Dew.”

As planned but obviously something had gone amiss. “What is the issue?”

“One of them is questioning your orders.”

That raised a brow. It would seem one of the conscripted Lycans pushed against the command planted in their mind. “And what do we do with a disobedient dog?”

The boy shuddered before whispering, “They will be handled.”

A crouch brought them close to the quivering pup. “Do you have an issue with my order?”

“No, Master.”

“Good. Now, run along and ensure my command is carried out. I expect to see the cages full by morning.”

“Yes, Master.” The young rogue scampered off. Obedient and eager to please. The young were always so much easier to turn. Mature men, often set in their stubborn ways, fought hardest against the vampire control placed upon them. Their ability to resist, though, made them still necessary. Children, while much more malleable, lacked the strength and skill of their elders. Not to mention, the youngest and most trainable were still needed by the beloved.

Such a shame they’d been harder to acquire of late, as the dog packs rallied and closed ranks. While they didn’t understand the true nature of their foe, they grasped the threat, unlike the dormants. That ostracized and banished group had no warning. No pack to protect them. Even better, some of latents had chosen to gather into their own communities, such as the one in Moon Dew. How kind of them to cluster in one place for the culling that was about to come.

It wouldn’t be long before humans and Lycans alike began to realize something was amiss, but by then, it would be too late. Once darkness consumed the world, there would be only two choices left.

Serve, or die.

Chapter 1

The small town of Moon Dew slept. The houses and few businesses displayed dark windows with the only illumination coming from glowing streetlamps. The dogs—the kind people owned, and not the version that shifted on full moons—didn’t bark. The roads loomed empty without a single set of headlights or purr of a motor. All appeared calm.

Too calm. Sasha didn’t trust it, and with reason. After all, she’d followed a rogue Lycan here. A lone and rabid wolf that, left unchecked, could end up controlled by their enemy.

They’d found the fucker thanks to old-fashioned tracking, a little bit of magic, and the small amount of Roderick’s ashes she’d ingested after Thaddeus tasked her with rounding up the stray Lycans who’d been influenced by Roderick.

For the unknowing, Roderick used to be a monstrous blend of werewolf and vampire, an impossibility somehow brought into being by the late vampire queen—a queen later murdered by her own creation. But Roderick didn’t stop there. As an alpha, he had the power to subvert and control Lycans, turning them into murderers. Despite Roderick’s eventual demise, those thralls continued to cause trouble.

With Roderick dead, his thralls were leaderless and dangerous. She knew immediately that her target was Lycan, due to his scent, and previously touched by Roderick, due to the red spark in his eyes when their gazes met and the curl of his lip.

Sasha intended to take him into custody and question whether there were more in the area. However, a gaggle of humans had passed between her and the dog, giving him a chance to jump in a car and speed off—but not before she’d memorized the license plate.

A search through databases not accessible by the public revealed the car to be a rental, paid for in cash, with the only paperwork useless, as they’d used a fake driver’s license. A good thing she knew a hacker. Her friend and fellow flock member, Pierrot, managed to forge a link between the vehicle’s onboard navigation and an app he’d installed on her phone. Hence how they followed the car with the mind-poisoned rogue.

Of course, following would have been easier if an accident hadn’t occurred literally right in front of them, forcing them to sit in traffic and allowing the rogue to acquire an annoying lead. How she wished she’d stuck with her Mustang, but Pierrot had insisted on switching out to one of the flock’s standard SUVs for safety and space in case they took rogues in for questioning. In truth, Pierrot hated how fast she drove in the convertible, but at least that speed would have helped them make up for time. As it was, the rogue’s vehicle had been stopped in Moon Dew for more than an hour by the time they caught up.

The other flock members assigned by Thaddeus had pulled up mere moments before she did. She parked behind their SUV on the outskirts of town, and Tim, Anabel, and Jorge exited to greet her and Pierrot then hold a brief discussion.

“Do you think this is where Roderick’s remaining thralls are hiding out?” Tim asked. The freckled vampire peered around as if he could spot their lair.

“Doubtful,” Sasha replied.

“The car is not parked outside a house or building,” Pierrot added. The rogue had left it on the shoulder of the road by a gas station closed for the night.

“Maybe he’s inside the garage,” she murmured, stalking over for a sniff. The stench of gasoline overpowered, and she caught nothing.

“Something’s wrong,” Anabel murmured, sidling close.

Sasha glanced around. “Agreed.” It took her a moment to figure out what bothered. “It’s too quiet.”

Jorge joined them, hands shoved in his pockets. “Probably because it’s like one in the morning.”

True, but she couldn’t shake the sense of something amiss. “Spread out,” Sasha ordered.

Pierrot and Tim headed off to the left, while Anabel and Jorge flitted right. As for Sasha, she strode straight up the middle of the road, head constantly swiveling, seeking any sign of movement, following the fresh scent of Lycans on foot.

Four, if her nose wasn’t wrong.

As she walked, the uncanny silence pressed down. Yes, it was late, and people would be abed, but her skin prickled with suspicion.

The trail she followed diverged from the road and led her to the front door of a bungalow with light blue siding and a tidy front yard. It didn’t look like a rogue lair and yet, at the same time, would be the perfect cover.

She lifted her hand and waited while her companions quietly joined her. She held up four fingers and inclined her head toward the house. They got the hint. Anabel and Jorge infiltrated the backyard, covering the rear, while Pierrot and Tim split up to watch the east and west sides of the house in case the rogues chose to escape via a window.

As for Sasha, she would use the front door. She expected to have to force her way inside, only a turn of the knob showed it unlocked. The moment it opened a scent wafted out. A familiar one.

Death.

She quickly entered—because, unlike certain movies and books, she didn’t need an invitation—and checked through the home before she emerged and uttered a piercing whistle that drew her companions.

“What happened to sneaking up on the rogues?” Jorge questioned as he came into sight.

“They’re long gone.” Her grim reply.

“How can you be sure? Their car is still here,” Anabel pointed out.

“They either had a second vehicle or stole one, because the bodies inside have been dead at least an hour.” The congealed blood told the time. “Looks like the adult female, human, was gutted by a knife. The infant, a human male, was torn apart by something with claws.”

“Since when do the rogues slaughter humans?” Anabel questioned.

“I don’t know, but it appears as if they didn’t kill them all, going by the family photos and personal effects that suggest the house also had a male occupant and a second child who are missing.”

“Perhaps they weren’t home,” Pierrot murmured.

“Do you really believe that?” Sasha scoffed. More likely they were taken to feed Morpheus, a high-ranking vampire who had long been a thorn in the side of her boss, Thaddeus.

“I wonder if they hit other homes.” Tim glanced at the other dark abodes.

Without a word, they split up and began entering them, finding the same scenario played out over and over. Slaughtered families, young and old, all human but for one: they discovered a single Lycan male butchered outside one home. An innocent or one of the rogues? If going by smell alone, then Sasha leaned toward the latter, but it didn’t seem like he was killed by one of the residents in self-defense. There was nothing to suggest a scuffle. He’d clearly been ambushed. So why, then, did they kill one of their own? Could it be he’d balked at the slaughter?

Most of the houses they’d searched showed indications some folks had been taken, without rhyme or reason. Young, old, male and female. What set them apart? Thaddeus probably could have answered, but the boss tended to keep things close until he felt it necessary to divulge

Another interesting fact? The rogue she’d been tracking had been joined by others. By Sasha’s reckoning of the various scents, a dozen converged on the small town, and she had to wonder why this particular place.

“Seems to me the rogues who did this are gone,” Pierrot remarked as the flock converged in the middle of the street.

“And left behind the rental we followed, meaning we have nothing to track,” Tim added.

What no one said, but all understood? The mission was a total bust.

Or so Sasha thought until a hint of sound distracted. She froze in place and closed her eyes to concentrate, sifting scents, analyzing sounds. A whisper of movement sent her running, sprinting across a yard, vaulting a bush. The other vamps joined her, if more slowly. While Sasha’s mental powers of persuasion might not be the strongest, she didn’t lack for strength and agility.

She quickly outpaced her brethren and caught sight of four fleeing figures, their legs pumping almost as fast as hers, the scent wafting in their wake most definitely canine.

Had the rogues left some of their number behind?

The boss would be pleased if she could capture them alive for questioning. She put on a burst of speed and closed the gap between her and the fleeing group. They headed for a structure on the edge of the town, the cross jutting from the roof indicating a church.

The four dogs barreled through the thick wooden doors and slammed them shut. Sasha’s pace slowed as she heard the thumps and bumps of furniture being moved as they barricaded the entrance.

As if that would stop her.

She stood in front of the door, hands planted on her hips waiting for her brethren to reach her.

“I take it they went inside,” Jorge huffed. The thicker-set vampire wasn’t used to having to chase. While most of their kind enjoyed greater stamina and speed, overindulgence and a lack of exercise made a difference.

“Yeah, they’re in there,” Sasha drawled. The rogues probably mistakenly believed themselves safe. After all, some folks trusted that a church was some kind of holy sanctuary that none would dare attack. Wrong.

Even if those cowering had no clue what Sasha was, it should be noted that no religion on earth could stop a vampire in its tracks. As a matter of fact, only a few things could actually kill a vampire. Direct and prolonged sunlight. The removal of the heart—because a stake injury could be healed, especially with the more seasoned vampires. Beheading was also popular, as few things could survive without a noggin, but again, that depended on the age and what was done to the head and body afterwards. Vampires weren’t easy to kill. A good thing, since pretty much everyone and everything hated them. Not that she cared how her dinners felt.

Sasha waved a hand. “Spread out and cover all the entrances. Windows, too, just in case. I’ll see if I can convince them to come out.” Doubtful, because without direct eye contact or touch, she’d have difficulty mesmerizing. However, chatting up her prey would give her team a chance to get in position before they slammed their way in.

Once her companions moved off, Sasha sauntered to the door with a nonchalance her once-human self would have envied. She’d been a street rat before Thaddeus found her. Living off the discards of others. Stealing what she needed to survive. A pathetic young girl who’d run away from the abuse at home, only to find out the world could be just as cruel. But she stopped being a victim when Thaddeus turned her into a vampire.

With hands planted on her hips, Sasha called out to those cowering inside the church. “I know you’re in there.”

No reply.

“Are you going to open the door and cooperate like good little dogs, or am I going to have to drag your asses out?”

“Fuck off.”

Not an unexpected response.

“You know,” she commented casually, “in the story, it’s supposed to be the wolf outside the building, threatening to huff and puff if the little pigs don’t come out.”

“I prefer the one where the wolf eats the annoying girl,” replied the same deep voice.

“You’d have to open the door to even try,” Sasha’s riposte.

“We’re not fucking stupid. We saw what you did to the people in town.”

Her brow arched. They thought Sasha and her companions responsible? Nice try. She wouldn’t fall for their deflection tactic; however, for shits and giggles, she would play along. “That wasn’t me or my friends.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s the truth.” She found it highly improbable they weren’t involved. Not surprising? That they claimed innocence. “We came across this town tracking some rogues but arrived a touch too late. Or not. After all, it appears you were left behind.”

“We didn’t kill no one,” a reedy voice exclaimed, leading to grumbling from the others inside. “I will not shut up,” huffed the same guy. “We didn’t do nuthin’.”

“If you’re so innocent, then why hide?” Sasha countered.

“Because we’re not going to end up as some newspaper headline,” snarled the guy with the deep timber.

“You can’t hide in there forever.”

“Just long enough for the authorities to arrive,” exclaimed the high-pitched one, which led to more hushed arguing as his friends tried to shut him up.

Had they truly called for help? If yes, then Sasha’s team had little time before they needed to vacate.

“You know you sound rather coherent for murdering psychopaths,” she remarked, eyeing the door and its hinges, seeking out a weak spot. “Thralls are usually less interested in meaningful conversation and more intent on killing.”

“We’re not murderers,” growled Mr. Deep.

“As if you’d admit to it. Tell me, did you enjoy killing the weak in this town? Slaughtering innocent babes and their parents? Such tough doggies.”

“We didn’t kill anyone!” retorted the man.

“Says the wolf.” Her chuckled reply. “Or are you going to tell me you’ve never killed?”

“Only wild animals. Can you say the same?”

“Nope.” She popped the P. “And I’ll be killing again before the night is over. The question is, which of you will die first?” No point in letting them know she planned to capture them. Fear could work wonders when other methods of persuasion failed.

“If you didn’t murder the folks in town, then who did?” A new voice entered the chat.

“Your fellow rogues. Duh.” She rolled her eyes.

“For the last time, we’re not in league with whoever did this,” snapped the deepest voice. “Not to mention, why would we kill family?”

Hold on. Did these four wolves have ties to this town? Could it be these males had somehow escaped the rogues that swept through? Were they some of the ones who were missing from the houses?

“If they’re your family, then why didn’t you stop the murders?” she asked.

“We arrived too late,” a soft, disgruntled reply.

“Arrived from where? It’s an odd time to be out and about.” Unless you were nocturnally inclined, like a vampire.

“We got a call from—”

Someone cut off the one spilling. “Shut the fuck up, Omar.”

“Actually, let him speak,” she interjected. “Your reply might very well decide your fate.”

“You already said you planned to kill us,” Mr. Deep reminded.

“That was when I assumed you were some of the murderers. If you’re innocent—”

“We are! As if I’d kill my aunt,” exclaimed one of them, the last part of the statement cracking.

“As I was saying, if you’re innocent, then you have nothing to fear from me. But I will require you come with me and answer some questions.” The more they spoke, the less they seemed like mindless thralls. Perhaps they were telling the truth.

“The answer is still fuck off.”

“I get better results when I fuck on. Preferably on top.” She liked to control the ride. “Now, be nice doggies and open the door.”

“Not happening.” A low rumbled denial.

“You’ve got until the count of three. One.”

Sudden yells from inside indicated her brethren had breached the church.

She crossed her arms and waited on the other side of the door, as there were thumps and yells but no blood-curdling death cries. Good. She needed them for questioning.

In short order, the tussling ceased and the door swung open. Sasha took in the sight of the sulking doggies, four of them in total, their clothing, unstained by blood, adding credence to their claim that they weren’t part of the murders.

Hair mussed. Lips swelling from blows. Eyes glaring.

Handsome lot. Late twenties to early thirties. Thick heads of hair, fit bodies. Even the wimpiest of them would probably taste delicious.

“Don’t you even think of tasting me,” hissed the one with the deep voice, a burly fellow with a glare that gave her tingles.

Oops, she’d said the last part aloud. Her lips curved. “I promise you’d enjoy it.”

“I’d rather die.”

“That can also be arranged. For the moment, though, you will come with us.”

“As if we have a choice,” a bitter reply from the skinniest of the group.

“You’re right. You don’t have a choice, and I suggest you behave during transport, or I, and my friends, might decide one of you is expendable as a snack.”

Mr. Deep’s jaw stiffened. “You’re not Lycan.”

“No shit, Puppy Chow.” Sasha smirked. “Can you take a guess as to what I really am?” While some Lycans knew of vampires, the revelation was recent and not common knowledge.

“You smell…” Mr. Deep pursed his lips as his nostrils flared. “Not human.”

“Correct.” She nodded toward her fellows. “Pierrot, why don’t you smile for the wolf?”

Her companion flashed his pointed fangs, and Omar recoiled at the sight of them, unlike his buds, who only gaped in shock.

Mr. Deep sounded incredulous as he said, “You’re vampires?”

To which Sasha replied, “Someone give the smart puppy a bone.”

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My Boyfriend Bites

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Book Cover: 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.

COLLAPSE
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My Boyfriend Marks Trees

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Book Cover: My Boyfriend Marks Trees
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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

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?

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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.

COLLAPSE
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Dancer and the Ice Bear

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Book Cover: Dancer and the Ice Bear
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Part of the Furry United Coalition (FUC) series:
  • Bunny and the Bear
  • Swan and the Bear
  • Croc and the Fox
  • Lion and the Falcon
  • Doe and the Wolf
  • Ostrich and the ‘Roo
  • ‘Roo and the Angel
  • Panda and the Kitty
  • Dancer and the Ice Bear

Deck the horns for your holiday FUC.

Holy jingle bells, Krampus has taken Santa’s Village hostage and it’s up to Dancer to fly into action and save Christmas!

Alas, her nose doesn’t shine bright like that annoying braggart Rudolph, and on her way to secure aid, she gets lost in a blizzard. Luckily, she crash-lands outside the home of a former FUC soldier, a polar bear with the know-how and connections to mount a rescue. Only Nanook refuses to help because this grumpy Scrooge hates the holidays.

However, the ice bear changes his mind when Krampus strikes close to home, kidnapping all the children in town—including Nanook’s twin daughters. With a fire lit under his furry butt, Nanook is ready to roar to the rescue and recruits a furry-minded crew to help him oust Krampus from Santa’s Village.

They’ll need to shake a paw if they’re going to pull off a holiday miracle, especially Dancer, who faces the biggest challenge of all; melting an ice bear’s heart.

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Published: 2024-12-12
Cover Artists:
Dreams2Media
Genres:
Holiday Romance, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shapeshifter Romance
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

Chapter 1

A hungover Dancer woke and stretched, wondered why she was chilled, only to realize she’d passed out in a snowbank. Blame the pre-pre-pre-Christmas party, which had been quite the event. Candy cane shots, gingerbread rum cake, some brandied cherries. She’d partaken of it all, even as she knew she couldn’t hold her liquor. No surprise she ended up wasted. She had a faint recollection of dancing on some tables—and throwing up on a potted poinsettia. At least she’d turned down the elf that propositioned her.

Utterly blasted, she didn’t recall shifting into her reindeer shape or exiting the village. Thankfully, nothing ate her while she was passed out. Predators roamed outside Santa’s Village, and some loved the taste of reindeer meat.

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Dancer sat up and shook snow from her velvety antlers. Bad idea. Her head hurt, pounded like a child getting their first drum set under the tree. At her age, she should know better than to get sloshed, especially this close to Christmas. Santa expected all his reindeer to be in fit form, but in her defense, she’d been trying to mend her broken heart.

The bull she’d had her sights set on was engaged to another. It should be noted Rudolph never showed her the slightest interest, and yet she’d been hopeful that—as she was the only other reindeer misfit—they’d be naturally drawn to each other. Him with his glowing red nose, her with the horny nubs that didn’t disappear when she shifted. Her deformity meant she couldn’t date outside of, or even leave, the North Pole because she couldn’t be seen in public—unless she wanted to end up with her head mounted on someone’s wall or as a lab specimen dissected by curious humans.

Her inability to leave the North Pole shattered her dream of one day becoming a FUC agent and fighting crime. Some would say she should be happy she got to work for the jolliest man on Earth, but those people obviously had never worked for the big man. Santa trained them hard, had to since he wouldn’t lay off the jelly donuts. They’d had to reinforce the sled for the second time in as many years.

Thinking of her boss made her squint at the dark sky, the usual for this time of the year in the North Pole. They wouldn’t see sunlight again until March. According to the position of stars, morning fast approached, and if she didn’t get moving, she’d be late for sleigh training. Not a good idea, as it would ruin her bid to lead the team this year. Not that she stood a chance. Rudolph had the big guy wrapped around his ruby-red nose.

Dancer pushed herself up from the snow, swaying on her wobbly legs. Maybe she should send a message she couldn’t make training because she was sick. Sick with the candy cane flu.

A scream from inside the village made the nutcrackers in her head clack their jaws harder. Ow. Some people had zero consideration for the hungover.

“Run for your lives!” an elf yelled, his high-pitched voice carrying and adding to the pounding discomfort.

Probably a Yeti incursion. They liked to raid around Christmas, knowing the elves would be baking their favorite treat—fruit cake. The QUEEFS—Quick Uber Elite Elf Fighting Squad—would handle it. The combat-trained elves were the village defence against predators. Dancer had applied when her dream of being a FUC agent fell through, but not being an elf, she got rejected immediately.

Totally unfair.

Dancer took a moment to stretch her stiff limbs. At least she’d shifted before collapsing in the snowbank. Nothing worse than waking up with frostbite, especially given the remedy tasted so foul. Whoever came up with the idea of mixing cinnamon with bourbon, crème de menthe, and turkey broth should have their taste buds checked.

As she rose to her wobbly hoofs, more yelling occurred. The QUEEFS must have mustered to repel the Yeti.

As she went to totter around the mound of snow—sidestepping a pile of puke with chunks of cherries—a puffin came waddling past.

She bleated a querying note at his panic.

The puffin, known as Joe, paused, and his eyes widened at the sight of her.

“Run!” squeaked her friend, who could speak in his bird shape.

She huffed. As if she’d flee. It was just a Yeti. The QUEEFS would toss it some fruitcakes until it stopped smashing the gingerbread houses. Not exactly the best building material, but the elves preferred it over igloos.

“It’s not a Yeti,” Joe huffed, understanding her disdain. “The village is being attacked by Krampus.”

She uttered a scoffing snort.

“I swear it’s true. Someone calling themselves Krampus has arrived with an army. Santa’s workshop is under siege.”

Her muzzle dropped open in shock.

“He’s got wolverines and walrus rounding up everyone. Flee while you can.”

Flee? No way. This was her chance to fight. Dancer suddenly had visions of grandeur. If she saved Christmas, Santa would be so thankful he’d let her lead the sleigh instead of Rudolph.

Joe scurried off as something exploded in the village and sent up a cloud of multicolored smoke. The damage to the paint factory would slow down production in the New Year. Good thing the elves had already finished this year’s batch of toys.

Despite her pounding head, she had to act, even as she didn’t know what she could do. She’d never trained to fight. Then again, perhaps Joe misunderstood the situation. Puffins weren’t known for their intelligence. A peek at the situation seemed called for.

A quick trot brought her around the snowbank and in sight of the village.

A village under attack.

Elves ran to and fro, chased by wolverines who appeared to be herding them in the direction of Gingerbread Hall. Walrus stood guard at the village entrance, kind of a misnomer since there was no wall or fence around the place.

While the place appeared overrun, the QUEEFS were trying their best to repel. Armed with candy cane shooters, hot cocoa throwers, and licorice whips, they went after the invaders. However, a forty-pound elf was no match for a ridiculously heavy walrus.

The red and white striped missiles bounced off the hide of the big male that humped its way toward the squad, which splintered and bolted in different directions.

As she watched, another explosion rocked the snow underfoot, and a river of hot taffy began rolling through the icy lanes, coating everything in its path, from elf to walrus. It proved especially painful to listen to Freezo the Snowman scream, “I’m melting.”

It occurred to Dancer that she alone would not be enough to turn the tide. Walrus outweighed her and could be nasty with those goring tusks. Wolverines loved to tear out tendons to topple the four-legged. Saving the village would require help beyond that which the QUEEFS could provide, but the nearest FUC outpost was in Greenland, which meant crossing the Arctic Sea. She could swim, but she’d freeze, drown, or get eaten before she managed to traverse the five hundred-plus miles.

It would have been an easy trip if she could fly, only she couldn’t soar without Santa’s dust, which he kept locked away in a vault along with his bible of Good and Naughty Children.

However, she knew where to find a hidden stash. Her good friend Comet had managed to filch some so she could visit her boyfriend in Alert, Nunavut.

Dancer retreated from the village and trotted to the training field where Santa had an obstacle course set up for them to run their paces. Chimneys for them to leap over. Narrow roofs that required precise landing lest the sleigh fall off. Steep sloping tile. Asphalt surface. Woven grass. Every kind of roof dotted the field, as Santa took their training seriously.

The special dust had been tucked inside a chimney, and as Dancer pulled the baggie out with her teeth, she heard a grunt. A glance behind showed a walrus humping in her direction.

Jumping hollyberries, she had to speed up. Dancer tugged at the drawstring with her teeth, loosening it enough to see there weren’t many precious sprinkles left.

A loud whistle by the walrus brought some wolverines yipping.

Time to go. She upended the bag, and dust dumped out, landing on the hard ice. Dancer bent her head and sniffed the powder, feeling it tickle as it went up her nose. She would have liked to have snorted more, but those wily polar devils were coming at her fast.

Hopefully she’d inhaled enough. She began to run, her long legs stretching, her adrenaline sluggishly waking and erasing the last remnants of her hangover.

She didn’t have a proper runway to get up to speed. However, she did have motivation, as the racing wolverines got closer, slavering with excitement.

On Dancer and Dancer and Dancer and Dancer. She encouraged herself using Santa’s chant, wondering if any of her reindeer friends survived the attack. She almost stumbled at the thought she might be the only one left.

A chimney in her way led to her making a mighty leap. For a second, she remained aloft, but the powder hadn’t fully taken effect. She needed her blood coursing, moving the dust through her body. She huffed hotly as she strained, moving her legs rapidly.

Snap. The jaws that snapped much too close to her hindquarters startled her into jumping again, her legs still pedaling. This time she didn’t sink back down. She went up.

And up.

Only as she realized she flew did she glance down to see the wolverines converging under her, muzzles upturned in anticipation.

Not today, mongrels.

Dancer ran on air, heading for the Arctic Sea, racing as fast as she could, knowing the power would run out and she needed to reach land before that happened. She used the stars to guide her route, something she’d been taught but never had to do before. It was eerie flying by herself. Usually, she only ever took the skies with the team. But if Comet could do it to get laid, then so could she!

She might have made it to Greenland had a storm not suddenly developed. Dark clouds, heavy snow, whipping winds. She fought against the buffeting tempest, disoriented, tired, but determined.

Bad weather wasn’t new. She’d flown through worse. Only, she usually had Santa and Rudolph to guide her.

When the dust began to fail, she found herself losing altitude, sinking, sinking. The only reason she didn’t panic? The dark churning sea had changed to white, meaning she’d reached solid ground. She kept descending, readying to land. The storm chose to kick up a notch, rendering visibility to nil, which was how she ended up slamming into a mountain.

Chapter 2

Nanook heard the excited shrieks and grumbled. Why, oh why, wouldn’t his darling hellions nap anymore? There used to be a time when they’d all snuggle in a furry big pile, having the grandest slumbers. However, his daughters, having recently turned five, made it clear those days were done.

He rolled from his comfy chair to the floor on his four paws and gave a quick glance around. He could hear their excited chatter but didn’t see them inside the cave. Those precocious brats had gone outside into the nasty storm.

Before he could exit and give them a stern scolding, and see what had their fur in a fluff, they entered huffing and chuffing. Pure white and cuddly, their coats laced in snow, seeing their blatant disregard for his rules led him to shift and bellow, “What were you doing outside without me?” While he encouraged independence, he did require they remain within his sights, given the predators that would gladly take down a still-learning cub.

Siku shifted and clapped her hands as she squealed. “Dada! We found something.”

“Found what?”

The reply came from Sesi, who also transformed. “A woman with horns.”

He blinked, mostly because the statement made no sense. “Do you mean a caribou?” Herds of them inhabited Ellesmere Island.

“Yes and no. You have to help her. She was too heavy for us to lift.” Siku pointed to the doorway with its weighted leather flap to keep out most of the snow and cold drafts.

Obviously, there was a communication issue. While his girls were highly intelligent, their young age made them perceive the world differently than an adult. Still, their claim bore checking out.

“You stay here while I go have a look.”

He swapped back into his bear rather than get dressed. Maybe he could finish that nap before dinner.

Out into the storm he lumbered, the whipping snow reducing visibility and clinging to his fur, not that it bothered him. They didn’t call his kind ice bears for nothing.

He didn’t have to go far to find what had his daughters in a tizzy. He immediately spotted the woman lying in a heap in the snow.

A nude female to be exact, smelling of caribou, with antler nubs peeking from her hair.

He blinked, but the horns remained. Well damn. His daughters weren’t confused after all. But he had a dilemma. What to do with her? Leaving her outside, she’d die for sure. Bringing her inside meant dealing with a stranger. He didn’t like outsiders, or people in general.

In this scenario, he didn’t have a choice. He’d warm her up and set her on her way. He grabbed the female and heaved her over his shoulder. He brought her inside and dumped her naked butt on the wolf skin rug. She flopped onto her back, which meant noticing, despite her frigid pallor, the stranger had an attractive countenance and a fine form.

While not a gentlebear, he glanced away.

Siku clapped her hands. “She’s pretty. Can we keep her?”

“Yes, Dada, can we?” Sesi squealed.

He shifted and grabbed his robe before muttering, “No, we cannot keep her. She’s not a pet.”

“I know that,” Siku huffed, rolling her eyes. Where had she learned that? Probably her cousins whom they’d visited recently when they went to get supplies.

“She can be our mommy,” Sesi declared. She and her twin had been bugging him of late about how they didn’t have one. Apparently, they’d reached an age where they noticed such things. When they asked where their mother went, rather than say off sucking an elf’s dick, he’d muttered, She died. Seemed kinder than explaining the slag abandoned them without a second thought.

“You can’t just decide a random stranger is going to be your mother,” he pointed out, tossing a blanket over the stranger. His logic didn’t deter his stubborn girls.

“Yes, we can,” Siku insisted. “Rory got a new daddy. Rory says his mommy found him when she went to Alert for supplies.” Patty never met a man she didn’t want to bring home, although the most recent one had lasted longer than most at six months.

“How come you never brought home a mommy when you went to Alert?” added Sesi. Alert was the nearest town, if you could call a place with less than two hundred people a town. Ellesmere Island being remote with harsh seasons didn’t exactly boast a huge population. A few hundred people at most.

“Because we don’t need a mother. You have me, the best father ever.”

The girls eyed each other and used that secret twin connection they’d been born with to say in synchronization, “We want one.”

“This one,” Siku emphasized.

“The answer is no. It’s not up to the kids to choose a mommy.”

“Who chooses then?” Sesi cocked her head as she asked.

“Is there a store to find a mommy?” his other innocent daughter asked.

Was he really going to have to tell them about the bears and the bees? “You can’t buy a mommy, or a daddy for that matter.” Then, because they were opening his mouths to bombard him, he added, “What usually happens is a man and a woman will meet, and if they really like each other, they might decide to live together and be a family.”

“How can you meet someone when you don’t go anywhere?” Siku pointed out.

“And you hate everyone,” Sesi stated.

His girls knew him all too well, and they raised valid points, which he didn’t want to address, so he diverted their reasoning. “Has it occurred to you that maybe this woman doesn’t want to be a mommy?”

Again, the twins shared a secret look before saying, “Why wouldn’t she want us?”

Siku’s lower lip jutted. “Are you saying we’re not cute?”

“Are we not perfect?” Sesi’s eyes brimmed.

“Of course, you’re cute.” And excellent at using it to their advantage. “And perfect.” Perfectly capable of driving him up an iceberg.

“Then she will want to be our mommy and tuck us in and read us stories—”

“And bake cookies!” Sesi declared, interrupting her sister.

Nanook held in a sigh. He’d been doing that more and more often of late. It began when his cubs learned to speak and had been snowballing as their bright little minds grasped more than they should.

Who knew what they’d start demanding once they started school? They’d turned five, and while they didn’t have to attend kindergarten by law at that age, he knew they’d have to go to school eventually, which meant moving from his very remote cave to a place with people.

He disliked most people, but he loved his daughters, hence why they’d be relocating in the spring so they could start school in the fall. Not in Santa’s Village, though, even if they had an excellent scholastic program. He still couldn’t see or hear about anything Christmas without getting into a snarling rage.

“Tell you what. Once we move to the cape, I will hire a nanny who can bake and read stories.” A good compromise in his mind.

“A nanny is not a mommy,” Sesi stubbornly insisted.

“Close enough. Now enough of that kind of talk. I think she’s waking.”

Indeed, the woman stirred, rustling the fur blanket covering her lush frame.

A body he surprisingly admired. How long since he’d paid any attention to the opposite sex? He blamed his daughters’ big idea for his ogling. Making this random stranger their mommy, indeed. Never again. He’d sworn off relationships after the fiasco with Anjij.

The stranger opened her eyes, blinked at him, and murmured, “Please don’t eat me, Mr. Bear.” Her sense of smell must be working.

Siku giggled. “Dada doesn’t eat people. His favorite food is whales.”

“Which are blech.” Siku stuck out her tongue. “Burgers are better.”

“Er, what?” The woman blinked and sat up, holding the blanket to her chest as she glanced around. “Where am I?”

“In our house,” Sesi chirped.

“And your house is where, exactly?” Asked as she stood. The stranger put a hand to her head and swayed on her feet. “Oh, peppermint sticks. I must have crashed hard.”

“Were you driving a snowmobile?” Siku asked. “Uncle Arnie broke his. Aunt Kira said he crashed it ’cause he’s a dumb bear who rides too fast.”

“No, no snowmobile. I was flying,” the woman murmured.

“You’re a bird?” Sesi’s nose wrinkled, and Nanook understood her confusion. The woman’s scent was the distinct one of a caribou… but caribou didn’t fly. It hit him then. Oh, frozen shitsicle.

“You’re a reindeer!” Which, for the confused, was the European name for caribou. Why the difference, he couldn’t have said.

“I am. And you’re a polar bear. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way—"

“You’re one of them,” Nanook harrumphed, glaring at her.

“Excuse me?”

“One of the reindeer on his team,” he growled, avoiding the S word.

“I am.” Her chin lifted. “Dancer Lightfoot, second lead. And you are?”

“Not interested in dealing with you. Buh-bye.” He stood by the door and gave a scooting gesture.

She pursed her lips. “It’s still storming outside.”

“And?”

“While I’d love to accommodate your request, it would be foolish of me since I can’t get my bearings until it stops.”

A valid point. “Fine, you can stay until it dies down, but then I want you gone.”

“Goodness. Someone is a Grinch,” Dancer huffed.

“What’s a Grinch?” asked Sesi.

“Someone who hates Santa,” the woman replied.

“What’s a Santa?” was Siku’s next question.

“Wait, how do you not know who Santa is?” Dancer sounded shocked.

Nanook had to act fast. “Girls, if you don’t mind, I’d like a private chat with our guest.”

“But, Dada, we found her,” whined Sesi.

“Finders-keepers, remember?” Siku reminded.

“That doesn’t apply to people,” he snapped as he grabbed Dancer by the arm and dragged her from the main living area to his bedroom. Before he could explain she needed to keep her Santa nonsense to herself, Dancer exclaimed, “This is the nicest cave I’ve ever seen. It’s so big. How many rooms?”

“Five. Now about—”

“Five? It’s a veritable mansion. Did you carve it out of the mountain yourself?”

“Parts of it, yes. Now—”

“This is very impressive.” She dragged her fingers over the smooth wall, chiseled in his spare time.

The compliment puffed his chest but did nothing for his attitude. “Forget about my house. It isn’t important. You are not to mention Santa or anything Christmas to the girls.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because Christmas is banned in my home.”

“Banned?” She ogled him. “Isn’t that unfair to your daughters?”

She zeroed in on the guilt he kept stuffing down—deep down. Not everyone celebrated that dreaded holiday. His girls were doing just fine. “They can’t miss what they don’t know.”

“But what about their presents? I’ll bet they’re on Santa’s good list. You’re depriving them of—”

“Nothing. They have everything they could need. A roof over their head. Food for their bellies. Books to read.”

“What about toys?”

“They have some, but then again, who needs fabricated items when there’s a world outside to explore?”

“Glad you’re not my dad,” she muttered.

So was he because his body’s reaction to the very attractive reindeer would have been wildly inappropriate.

COLLAPSE
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My Girlfriend is a Werewolf

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Book Cover: My Girlfriend is a Werewolf
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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

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.

READ MORE

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.

COLLAPSE
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Belle’s Quest

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Book Cover: Belle's Quest
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Part of the Fairytale Bureau series:
  • Hood’s Caper
  • Cinder’s Trial
  • Belle’s Quest
  • Fairytale Bureau Collection (Books 1 – 3)

My life has taken a hairy twist.

I’ve studied the Grimm Effect and am prepared to be the one who finally breaks it. The others who came before me failed, but I have an advantage they didn’t. I escaped my unhappily-ever-after.

The one thing I don’t have? Jet-setting money. Good thing a prince I saved while working at the Fairytale Bureau has deep pockets. He’s offered to help me end the jinxing once and for all.

What I didn’t count on was the curse fighting back.

In an annoying twist, I am now the beast. From dusk ‘til dawn, I’m a hairy monster, and do you know what tames me when I’m tempted to eat annoying people? A certain sarcastic prince.

However, I don’t have time for romance because I’m on a quest to save myself, and the world. A quest being thwarted at every turn by the evil magic that keeps spreading.

Will I find the answer before everyone in the world is merely a character in a story?

Admit defeat and take up residence in a dreary castle where I can roar at trespassers?

Or should I take a page from a book and give true love a try?

Full List of Stores

Published: 2024-11-07
Genres:
curse romance, Fantasy Romance, magic and sorcery, Paranormal Romance, Romantic Comedy, Shapeshifter Romance, twisted fairytale
Tags:
english
Excerpt:

***MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. Avoid if you haven't read the previous book.

Chapter 1

My first time meeting a prince didn’t go so well. I’d been sent to the airport to escort the royal flying in from Corsica, an independent island off the coast of France. I, and a team of Grimm Knights—AKA super agents for the Fairytale Bureau who brought the swords and guns to the fight against curses—waited in the baggage claim area since even our badges couldn’t get us past the security checkpoint. Blame the recent fiasco caused by a witch who was peeved an airplane cut off her broom’s flight path. She went on a rampage in the airport terminal, turning people into toads.

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Since then, security had tightened, hence why we waited for the prince, much to the Knights’ annoyance since they took their new mission of protection seriously. I didn’t really worry because I knew the prince was arriving with his own set of bodyguards. As for His Royal Highness, I didn’t know much about him other than his name, not having had time to peruse the file sent to me by my boss, Hilda. The blame for my lack of preparation rested squarely on the three little pigs who’d run me ragged the night before. I’d been tracking them to try to offer protection from the big, bad wolf determined to eat them. Given how they kept slipping away, I had to wonder if perhaps they might be better off taking care of themselves.

The night before my trek to the airport I’d been hot on their curly tails when they entered the downtown Night Market. I lost track of them in the crush of bodies gathered in front of a temporary stage where some woman in a golden cage sang for a rapt audience.

You’d think three pigs would be easy to spot with their pink skin and tubby bodies. Wrong. The slippery jerks went scooting between people’s legs, and let’s just say, when I tried to follow, there was much objection. Still, I tried to find them, and when they eluded me once again, I took my disappointment out on some pulled pork.

Savage? Yup. I was okay with it. My patience only went so far, and in my defense, the pork melted in my mouth and made my tastebuds sing.

Anyhow, after that failure, rather than lose more sleep reading a boring file, I slept in as late as I dared before heading to the airport to greet His Majesty. While the Knights watched the perimeter around the baggage claim area, I yawned. Apparently, the prince, despite having access to a private jet, chose to fly commercial. Lovely. One of those out-of-touch entitled pricks who liked to think he was a man of the people.

According to the arrivals board, the plane had landed without mishap and people were clearing customs. As passengers began to exit the glass doors, stiff-legged and weary-looking from the long flight, I kept an eye out for a dude with an armed escort.

Ping.

My phone chirped, and I glanced to see a message from Hilda.

Prince’s bodyguards being detained by security for bringing weapons through customs. I’m on the phone yelling at them right now.

I’ll bet she was. Hilda didn’t have patience for incompetence and someone too big for their britches deciding to cause a diplomatic incident would be enough to push her over the edge.

As the people emerging tapered and the luggage came down to just a few pieces, which were expensive looking and emblazoned with the Corsican royal emblem, a scruffy dude appeared and sauntered over to the conveyer.

I frowned but didn’t start moving until the guy reached down to grab one of the royal suitcases. Holy brazen, stealing right in front of me.

I didn’t stop to think or even warn. I went into action mode, sprinting the few yards separating us and tackling the guy as he gripped the handle of the luggage.

Thump. We hit the floor hard. Well, he did. I landed on top, snarling, “I don’t think so.”

The pretty man with shaggy blond hair and brilliant eyes blinked at me. “Um, hello.”

“Don’t hello me, thief,” I snarled.

His lips curved. “I assure you, I wasn’t stealing.”

“I highly doubt that suitcase belongs to you,” my riposte as a Knight finally arrived to render me aid.

Hannah, a tall svelte woman with her hair drawn back in a fat braid, hissed, “Belle, what the fuck are you doing tackling the prince?”

The prince?

My turn to blink. “This is Prince Killian?” Excuse my incredulity. The guy I had pinned to the floor wore a very worn pair of jeans with holes and a T-shirt washed so many times the image on the front had faded.

He had the nerve to grin. “That would be me. And you are?”

“Feeling pretty dumb,” I grumbled before adding. “I’m Agent Boucher.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Agent Boucher.”

“I doubt that,” I muttered as I rose from the prince, who kept an amused expression.

Hannah hauled the man to his feet and apologized, of sorts. “Excuse my colleague, Your Highness. She obviously didn’t have enough coffee this morning.”

“No harm done,” the prince magnanimously stated.

“Why are you walking around without your security detail?” I couldn’t help a suspicious note. The prince supposedly needed protection, having left Corsica with two bodyguards and been assigned Knights while he visited, and yet here he was, wandering around all la-de-da.

The prince jerked a thumb at the glass doors. “They’re still working on reclaiming the weapons the customs people confiscated.”

“And you didn’t wait for them?”

He shrugged. “I was hungry.”

My lips pursed. “They’re for your protection.”

“So my mother claims.” He grimaced. “I find them rather intrusive, especially since no one wants to kill me.”

“You’re an unmarried prince. You’re always in danger.” In this world, post-Grimm Effect, eligible royals were few. The fairytale curses being reenacted ensured they either got married, were transformed into a frog, or worse.

“I would give away my rank if I could. Alas, I am my mother’s only heir, and so I must suffer the hordes of women who want to become my wife.”

“How horrifying,” I drawled.

“It is,” he agreed. “Do you know how hard it is to weed those with genuine interest from those magically convinced they love me?”

“Poor prince,” I taunted. It appeared I couldn’t stop myself from being sassy. What could I say? Something about him set me off. It might have been his good looks, his cool, slightly amused composure, or the fact I’d fucked up by laying hands on the person I was supposed to watch out for. Hilda would be pissed, meaning I’d most likely be assigned something worse than chasing pigs.

“Your Highness, we have a vehicle waiting to take you to your hotel,” Hannah stated. “And I was told to inform you that the preparations for the ball are well in hand.”

“Ball?” I snickered. “Going to find yourself a Cinderella?” My mouth ran faster than my brain.

The remark pursed his lips. “I should hope not. I have no interest in marrying someone who thinks losing a shoe makes her the perfect wife. The ball was my mother’s idea, seeing as how I’ll be celebrating my fortieth birthday while conducting business.”

Forty and single? Impressive. Most princes barely made it out of their teens before they were locked down.

“Here come your guards,” Hannah announced as two scowling and burly fellows exited, with the bearded one barking. “Your Highness. You were told to wait with us.”

“I’m fine.” The prince waved a hand. “My backup security detail has already tackled the job.”

Was that a dig?

“Shall we go?” Hannah led the way to the vehicles parked outside, but I didn’t ride with the prince. I had my own car here, and as I followed, my phone rang.

Uh-oh, Hilda.

I answered with a cheery, “Hey, boss.”

“Don’t you hey me. Did you seriously rough up the prince?”

“Hardly roughed up.”

“You had him pinned to the floor,” her dry reply.

“In my defense, he looked like a vagrant.”

“How could you not recognize him? His picture was in the file,” she screeched.

“I didn’t have time to read it over.”

The growling went on for a few seconds before Hilda snapped, “I didn’t need this today. I’m already short-staffed as it is, and now, I need to assign someone else to the prince.”

“Why? Did he complain?” Pussy, couldn’t handle a strong woman and a few bruises.

“No, he didn’t, but for the sake of diplomatic relations, I think it’s best someone else act as liaison.”

“If you insist.” I didn’t really care. Babysitting a grown-ass man sounded boring. “What do you want me doing instead?”

“You can find those darned pigs,” she commanded before hanging up.

Oh, I’d find them all right, and if they caused any trouble, they’d be bacon.

Chapter 2

After much chasing, and a slog through some mud, I did in fact catch the pigs the day after the incident with the prince.

Despite their squealing, oinking, and farting—oh my god, the farting—I got them to understand I was trying to protect them. Once I promised the pigs all the scraps they could eat, they accompanied me to the Fairytale Bureau where someone would place them in protective custody. As for the wolf… we currently had a Knight hunting him down.

Since I wore a layer of mud head to toe, I chose to head out, but I hadn’t quite escaped the building when the prince entered with his entourage.

He looked the same as before, albeit wearing a different shirt. Still very handsome while I looked like I’d crawled from the sewer. I tried to avoid his eye and keep my head turned as I passed, but he recognized me.

“Agent Boucher. How nice to see you again.” Damn him for sounding so cheerful.

I slewed a dark gaze his way and couldn’t help saying, “I take it your tushy wasn’t bruised from our meeting yesterday.”

He smiled wide enough to show perfect pearly whites. “Not one bit. Would you like to take a peek to be sure?”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I muttered.

“Guess that means no kisses for my boo-boo.”

I arched a brow. “I wouldn’t advise it, as I’ve been known to bite.”

A deep belly laugh emerged from him, kind of contagious. Had to admire a man who could dish it and take it. “I was dismayed to hear you wouldn’t be acting as my liaison,” he stated. “And here I thought we’d gotten off to a smashing start.”

“Why, Your Highness, your file didn’t mention your penchant for masochism.”

Once more he chuckled. “Then they must have omitted quite a bit, seeing as how I am always getting into scrapes, much to my mother’s chagrin.”

“How cute you admit to being a mama’s boy. Most men have cut the apron strings by your age.”

Rather than take offense, he quipped, “What can I say? A bond between mother and son is precious.”

Did nothing get under this man’s skin? And why was I so determined to rattle him?

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. I’m sure you have important princely things to do.”

“If by important you mean avoiding the Cinderellas clustering outside my hotel.” He finally showed a hint of a frown.

“Poor little prince has a fan club,” I cooed. “Count yourself lucky. My suitors usually have fangs.” With that remark, I left. Let him wonder what I meant. I wasn’t about to explain that it happened quite literally and I couldn’t date because of it.

See, as a young girl, my father inadvertently caused me to be cursed. He travelled quite a bit as a renowned antiquarian, which, for the people about to hunt up a dictionary, was a person who studied really old books. He had access to collections few could imagine. One in particular, owned by a reclusive gent, included a first edition of Alice in Wonderland. A favorite story of mine, although it should be noted, as a teenager, I preferred the movie, not the literary version. But my dad, in his excitement, borrowed it to show me. Just one night, but its disappearance was noticed.

The owner of said book had a beastly fit. To prevent being charged with theft, my father agreed to have me live with the gent as a companion.

Not a sex slave for the pervs who assumed wrong. My task was to read to the owner of the library. Julio, a man in his late twenties, had, almost a decade before, refused to offer succor to an old woman for a night. That old woman turned out to be a witch, and she cursed Julio. He became a beast who roared and snapped and growled, unless someone read to him.

Surprisingly enough, living with Julio didn’t prove to be too bad. I lived in a mansion with servants to cater to my needs. I ate very well. Had fine clothes. Even tutors to ensure I graduated high school with honors.

The problem arose when I turned eighteen and Julio asked me to cure his curse. By this point, I’d already become familiar with the Beauty and the Beast storyline, which was one of the few fairytales not from the original Brothers Grimm books. It didn’t start appearing until a decade after the other curses started.

Knowing the story, I had to tell poor Julio, whom I’d grown fond of, that, alas, I didn’t love him. I mean, the guy was more than a decade older than me, and quite honestly, while nice to me, he could be an ass to others.

He didn’t take the rejection well and chose to advise me that his curse didn’t require an emotional connection but a physical one with a virgin. I won’t horrify with details except to say he attempted to take me by force, while in beast form, and failed.

The heavy book I smashed him with left him stunned long enough for me to flee. When he chased me down the street, running on four paws and roaring, a car running a red light took him out. I’d have felt sadder if it hadn’t freed me from the deal he’d made with my father.

Given I’d escaped my curse, albeit under troubling circumstances, the academy that trained the Fairytale Bureau agents recruited me. I’d managed to evade the curse without side effects and was considered one of the lucky ones. Debatable, seeing as how I remained a technical virgin in my thirties because every time I got romantically involved with someone, they turned into a beast.

Every. Single. Time.

It got so that I didn’t even bother going on dates anymore. How could I when I knew what would happen? We’d get to know one another. Things would progress to where he’d lean in for a kiss, and wham. Fur, fangs, and growling.

Since love appeared out of reach, I turned to work and books—to my father’s delight until he passed a few years ago. I lived vicariously through the romances of others. Read of adventures that took heroines to faraway places in search of treasures and cures to curses. Wished I could be like them.

Alas, I didn’t have the resources to go galivanting on quests. Heck, I barely made enough to pay the mortgage and support my book addiction.

As I arrived home, mud flaking from me with every step, I eyed the run-down house I’d purchased for a song. Triple murders had a way of devaluing property. Worked for me. I needed a place with lots of rooms for my books. I entered to their musty scent. Old and new, they lined the walls from the moment you walked in. The bookcases, which I built out of simple pine that I stained, held them neatly lined in rows. Alphabetical by author. Some of them quite rare. All of them read. I didn’t hoard books just to own them. I devoured each and every page.

Tonight, though, rather than bury myself in the pages of the newest murder mystery I’d bought, I headed for the turret chamber, a rounded room on the corner of the house that had the least number of books because the walls that didn’t have windows held maps instead. A chart of the world with pins that I’d been using to mark where the first instance of each Grimm Effect story reenactment began. I’d color-coded them to differentiate the newer cases from the older, green being the oldest confirmed cases. To my surprise, once I started digging, the green pins clustered only in England. Also interesting, that British Isle had the most confirmed cases. It hadn’t started appearing in North America until a decade later. Europe happened sooner, seeing their first cursed story was within three years of the earliest cases documented.

You must be wondering why I researched this particular fact. Simple, really. I wanted to put an end to the curses. I wouldn’t be the first to try, though.

Over the decades since the stories came to life, others had studied the Grimm Effect. Each and every one had been taken out by the curse they sought to eradicate.

Professor Simms wrote papers on the Grimm Effect, hypothesizing that pollution had led to magical side effects. He died when attacked by a flock of swans.

There was an investigative news reporter, Ella something or other. She’d done several pieces outlining the Grimm Effect and how people could protect themselves. She’d been about to depart on a trip to look for the curse origin when got pushed off a rooftop terrace by a murder of crows.

There’d been other incidences of people showing too much curiosity. It led to most being leery of investigating the Grimm Effect.

Not me. I had nothing to lose. Since I couldn’t bring myself to have sex with a beast, my lonely existence stretched before me. I had to do something if I didn’t want to be alone forever. Yes, I had friends. Yes, I enjoyed my job and I loved my books, but there were times at night, alone in bed, when I really wished I had someone by my side. Someone to hold me. Someone to hug me. Someone to give me an orgasm that wasn’t finger or battery-induced.

Blame my horny desire for human touch for my driving determination to solve the Grimm Effect mystery.

Soon, I’d be heading over the big pond to visit a small town where the first case was supposedly reported. I’d been saving up, but not easily. Books tempted me around every corner.

I stood in front of the map and tapped my bottom lip. It had been interesting to note that the first curses definitely originated from the Brothers Grimm stories. Then, about a decade later, we’d begun to see new stories, as well as adaptations of the current reenactments. Then things were steady for a while, for lack of a better term, until recently. Of late, we’d been seeing more fairytales and even nursery rhymes coming to life. The Grimm Effect had expanded. But why, and how did it choose its stories?

I found it odd that it stuck to fairytales for the most part. Why not horror novels or even epic fantasy? Not to say I wanted IT by Stephen King to become reality or for the Lord of the Rings to turn part of the planet into Mordor. But it seemed strange to me the choice of stories being reenacted over and over around the world. More worrisome, we’d been seeing the curses get darker. More violent.

For example, recently, my friend Blanche Hood, caught up in the Little Red Cap story, had been targeted by a serial killer who left a trail of bodies before trying to murder her. One of the most horrifying cases I’d seen, and it turned out the huntsman was the culprit and not the wolf. We’d seen the rats eat the pied piper. People hunting and roasting the swan princes. The level of violence related to the stories had been rising. It made me wonder just how bad things would get if something wasn’t done.

Would I find the answers in England? Maybe. Maybe not. But I would try.

I popped out after a shower to grab some food. A guy leered at me on my way into the sandwich shop, and on the way out, the same fellow started sprouting fur and growling, “Pretty lady want to fuck?”

“No thanks.”

When the furry beast ignored my no, he got a taser to the nuts. It dropped him like a rock and left the man, in shreds of his clothes, whimpering on the ground. Maybe that painful jolt would be enough to keep him from transforming again.

I headed home, ate my sandwich, read a book, and, oddly enough, thought about Prince Killian when I went to bed. It might have been fun working with him. But, no, instead, Cinder got roped into acting as liaison, which surprised. As a Cinderella, she was the one person who should have been kept far away.

I spent the next few days dealing with a variety of oddities such as the bridge that suddenly fell down. Talked to witnesses who claimed they’d seen cows jumping over the moon and that their dishes and spoons were missing. The hospital dealt with a rash of burned bottoms as a bunch of boys chose to jump over candlesticks. Then there was the woman’s body found stuffed inside an oversized pumpkin shell. We had a warrant out for her husband Peter’s arrest.

The whole world was going mad, and it never became more evident than at the prince’s ball, which Hilda declared mandatory for all agents.

Or, as she said at the briefing, “It’s going to be a fucking madhouse. We’ve got hundreds of Cinderella potentials, one prince who doesn’t want to get married, and confirmation that rejection sometimes leads to storyline divergence.” Which was when a grimpher—the name for someone caught in a curse—had their story shift from one angle to another.

All agents had to attend wearing appropriate attire for a ball. In my case, a dress. Ugh. I dug one out of my closest after I moved a stack of books. Unlike Cinder, I didn’t have any mice to do my hair or a fairy godmother to glam me up. Good. I wasn’t looking to draw attention. Hopefully, I could tuck myself into a corner and read, a hope dashed as I got a taste of the chaos unfolding outside the hotel.

Hilda hadn’t exaggerated about the crowd. I couldn’t get through at the front of the hotel because of the mob of wannabe princesses wearing massive ballgowns. Cinderella fever had gripped hundreds of women who all clamored to be Prince Killian’s wife. I mean the guy was cute and nice, but still, who wanted to marry a stranger?

Once I got inside the hotel, via a tunnel that went from the hotel’s laundry into the hotel itself, I found said prince looking ill at ease in a uniform. White with gold braid, very formal and royal looking, if you liked that type. He had my good friend Cinder by his side, who appeared nervous and kept glancing at Levi, the head Knight who stood at the back of the dais set up for the occasion. The other Knights glowered around the ballroom, while the agents from the bureau chatted amongst themselves.

Me, I went looking for a quiet corner to read before the madness started. I’d no sooner cracked my book than the air went electric and, poof, a woman stood before me, looking every inch the Good Witch Glinda. Wait, wrong story. This had to be the fairy godmother.

“Wrong woman,” I stated, only briefly sparing her a glance. “The Cinderellas you’re looking for are outside.”

“I’m aware. I’m here for you.”

That caught my attention. “Why?”

“Because you are not dressed for the occasion. We can’t have that,” the fairy godmother sang.

“I’m fine.” My simple cocktail dress had served me well for a decade now. No point in wasting money on a new one when I hated formal events.

“An important day like today one needs to look her best,” she declared.

“First off, not my important day. Secondly, no thanks. I think I already look pretty good.”

“Not for what’s going to happen.”

I closed my book and stood to say, “What exactly is going to happen?”

“A wedding,” she exclaimed.

“So the prince chooses a bride. Whoopee.” What did I care? And why did I clutch my book so hard my nails dug into the cover?

“Oh, he’s not going to choose so much as need an escape. When the time comes, you’ll have to give him a sign.”

I frowned. “What are you yapping about? What sign?”

“You’ll know what to do,” she sang. “Together you’ll make things right. At least for tonight. And then, you have to come find me.”

“Find you where?”

“You already know, and we are running out of time. The ball is about to begin!” She flourished her wand and kazaam! To my disgust, I went from wearing a classic little black dress to a gown of shimmering gold. Tight in the waist, too low cut for my taste, with a skirt that swirled around my ankles. And hold a second… A hand to my upswept hair indicated I had roses for a crown.

Ugh. So girly, but I couldn’t do a thing about it. The fairy godmother poofed out of sight as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving me uncomfortable and wondering what the heck she meant with her strange comments.

Given her claim of the ball starting soon, I headed back to the main room, where everyone remained on high alert. The prince appeared as if he wanted to flee. Not far from the prince, Cinder glowed, pretty as a princess. She also kept eyeing Levi, making me wonder if the rumors of them being a couple were true.

A rumor confirmed a short time later when the Cinderellas mobbed the ballroom and my friend, rather than marry the prince to stop the madness, proposed to Levi and married him on the spot. Good for her. Or so I thought until the bachelorettes in attendance began clamoring for the prince to choose a bride. Poor sap.

For some reason, I inched closer to the horrified prince and whispered, “You look like you want to run away.”

He muttered, “I’d love to, but I don’t think I’m going to be allowed to escape without saying I do to a stranger.”

“There’s always divorce,” I replied.

“Indeed,” his lackluster reply.

In that moment, a light bulb went off and I remembered Godmother’s cryptic message. Surely, she’d not meant for me to marry the prince?

As the Knights ringed us and pushed us back, I lost my grip on my book. It fell, and before I could retrieve it, the prince went on bended knee to reach for it.

I looked at it and then the prince, who had the oddest expression on his face. Wait, was the curse making me into his Cinderella? It would solve his current problem. As for me, this might be my only chance to ever have a fiancé.

“Pick it up,” I whispered.

“But—”

“Do you want to marry one of those women?”

He shook his head.

“Then pick it up and pretend so we can get out of here.”

The prince offered me a smile of relief and handed over my book saying, “I think this is yours.”

“Thank you, dear prince.” I pasted the fakest smile on my lips as I replied.

“It is I who must thank you.” Killian rose, and I noticed how much taller than me he loomed. He grabbed my hands in his and, in a loud voice that carried, stated, “It would appear I was mistaken in my affection, confused because of how often you were in close proximity, but you, and only you, dear and fair Belle, are my one true love.”

“Oh, Killian.” To my credit, I didn’t laugh as I simpered and batted my lashes.

There was some screaming by disappointed wannabes and then dead silence. Had it worked? Would they believe I was his true love and leave the prince alone?

“If she’s really your Cinderella, then marry her, now!”

My eyes widened at the shout, and Killian stiffened.

To his credit, he tried to divert the shrill demand. “We can’t have two marriages in one day.”

The crowd didn’t agree.

“Marry him. Marry him.” A chant that grew in volume as the women who’d been jilted insisted on him going through with the farce.

The poor guy looked torn. He’d looked especially torn if the mob turned violent.

What could it hurt? People divorced all the time.

I lifted my chin. “Very well. You want to see me marry the prince, then so be it. If the lady who married Cinder and her Knight would do us the honor?”

The ceremony didn’t take long, and I couldn’t have said what happened given my state of shock.

In no time at all, I was married to the prince. But the most surprising thing of all?

The jolt of electricity when we kissed.

COLLAPSE
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