Legacy: Alexandra's Legacy Part 23

Fresh blood, bright red and warm on her fingers, seeped from a ragged hole puncturing the wolf's side. Regan prodded the surrounding flesh gently, worrying the bullet may be embedded in bone beneath. She'd have to get the animal to Rick. Whether the bullet was there or not, the wound needed to be- The wolf whined. Low. Almost human.

"I'm sorry, mate," Regan soothed, removing her fingers from its rib cage. Chewing on her bottom lip, she smoothed her palms over its scapular and down first one foreleg and then the other. Both rippled with muscle and once again, uneasy wonderment wriggled in Regan's stomach. The humerus seemed too close to human in structure to be possible. She ran her hands over it and it seemed to shift. Grow longer. Straighter.

Regan scrubbed the back of her hand against her eyes. She must be sleep deprived. Bones didn't change structure. With a slight shake of her head, she went back to her examination. As soon as she was convinced the animal could be moved, she'd call Rick. He'd give his left nut to help her out, any excuse to try and impress her into his bed. But quite frankly, she had no hope of moving the animal herself, even if it would fit in her car.

Another whine whispered on the air, so soft Regan almost missed it. "Not much longer, my mysterious friend," she whispered, letting her hands settle on the wolf's rib cage again, careful to avoid its wound. Its coat felt like fine velvet under her palms and for a dreamlike moment, she felt like pressing her face to the animal's side. She leant forward, sliding her hands to its shoulder joint in search of wounds unseen and her bare nipples brushed against the wolf's chest, flesh to fur. Soft. Cool. So much more than she'd expected. So much more than any animal species she knew.

What type of wolf are you?

She returned her attention to the wolf's body. With the exception of the bullet wound, it seemed physically uninjured, but who knew what Epoc's scientists had been doing to it. She smoothed her hands over the silken fur, a distant more detached part of her mind admiring the wolf's superb biomechanical construct. It was a creature evolved for one purpose only-to kill-yet its beauty was undeniable. Strength, menace and deadly purpose all combined in the majestic somehow romantic form of- The thigh muscle below her palm shifted, elongated, and Regan stumbled backward, landing flat on her bare b.u.t.t with an ignominious thud. She stared at the ma.s.sive, powerful and utterly lupine form. Watched it contort. Shudder.

The dense fur rippled, each strand seemingly alive with its own energy. The back legs grew long, straight. Thick, corded thigh muscles formed on bones no longer short and crooked. "What the..." Regan's stunned whisper barely left her lips.

Another shudder wracked the wolf's contorting form. Another. And another. Its fur grew thin, retracting into the flesh beneath, disappearing with each violent convulsion until its coat no longer existed and instead...

Regan's heart froze and she stared at the naked man laying full-length on her sofa.

The naked, trembling, gasping man laying full-length on her sofa.

Looking at her.

"What the h.e.l.l?"

The man's eyes-the angry color of a stormy winter's sky-flicked over her face. Like oiled smoke, he was on his feet, hard, lean body coiling, pale flesh glistening with a faint sheen of sweat in the sun-filled room. Regan stared at him. Speechless. Unable to move.

s.h.a.ggy ink black hair fell across his forehead, brushed straight eyebrows of the same color, cheekbones high and angular. Smooth, curved pecs cut down to a hairless torso sculpted in muscle. Nothing detracted from the perfection of his body, not even the mean scar slashing his pale skin from navel to groin. Regan traced the ragged white line with her eye, her stomach clenching as it disappeared into a thick thatch of black pubic hair just above- Oh, my G.o.d! He's huge!

A sharp intake of breath jerked her gaze back up to his face, in time to see nostrils flaring on a nose almost too long, almost too large. Those stormy eyes held hers. Kept her naked a.s.s on the carpet. Frozen.

Compelling.

The word flittered through her head, disconnected and surreal and with it came a tight throb, low in the pit of her stomach. A clenching, warm beat between her thighs.

d.a.m.n, Woman! Have you lost your mind?

She sucked in her own swift breath, tasting his sweat on the air. "Who..." She began.

Those grey eyes flickered. Grew wild. Dangerous. "You're in a lotta trouble, love," he growled, a soft brogue lacing the foreboding words seconds before every muscle in his perfect body coiled and he leapt.

At her.

He slammed into her, flattening her to the floor. Back, shoulders, skull. Bright pain spiked through her head, cold and hot at the same time, and she cried out. Strong, long-fingered hands clamped around her wrists, pinning them to the floor beside her head with a grip so fierce her brother would have been jealous. Regan squealed, glaring up into grey, burning eyes. "Get off me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" She bucked-all too aware of the muscled body pressed to hers. The naked body.

Fair d.i.n.k.u.m, Woman! Only seconds earlier he was a wolf! Wake up!

A hot breath feathered her face, ruffled her hair and she bucked again. This was no dream. He was no dream. "Get off me, you freak!"

Grey eyes flashed, all the more intense for the thick, black lashes framing them. "I'm no freak, lady."

The words flowed from well-defined lips, the soft Irish accent she'd heard earlier cut with anger. Long, corded legs battled hers, pinned them to the floor with a brutal strength. His knees shoved at hers, spreading her thighs wide until her lower body was completely trapped by his.

A rock-hard pressure nudged at the soft lips of her s.e.x and Regan sucked in a sharp breath. Oh no, he was aroused!

Aren't you?

Hot, terrified shame tore through her. Yes. She was. "Get off me!" she screamed, thrashing underneath him in desperate fury. "Get off me! Get off me! Get off me!"

In a battle of wills, only one can be on top. Right?.

Playing with Matches.

2007 Mardi Ballou.

A Fangly My Dear Book.

After an investigation goes horribly wrong, former journalist and brand-new vampire Gabe Morrow, wants to get a life. A social life, that is.

Fresh from the vampire halfway house, he's ecstatic-and a little wary-when Fangly, My Dear fixes him up with San Francisco cop Tanith Kalinski. Although his last investigation had him tracking corrupt cops, one night with this detective blows him away.

Vampires have always both repelled and fascinated Tanith. She figures one date-one long, pa.s.sionate night of hot s.e.x-will finally get the creatures out of her system. Then she meets Gabe. Their instantaneous attraction is so intense that instead of curing her of her obsession, their one night together makes it stronger than ever.

What's worse, Gabe wants more than she's willing to offer. With his murderer still on the loose, keeping Gabe at arm's length risks more than her heart-it could mean her life.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Playing with Matches: The moment Gabe saw Tanith walk into the club, lightning struck. He had no doubt the fox who'd just come in and was snagging all the masculine attention was his date. Blonde. Big green eyes, big b.r.e.a.s.t.s, long legs. A walk that highlighted all her womanly a.s.sets. His d.i.c.k sprang out of hibernation and reminded Gabe how much was at stake. He winced at the image of a stake and pushed it away. Thank you, universe-and Fangly, My Dear.

The club was dark and crowded. The musicians kept up a stream of mellow jazz, nothing too challenging or lively. Conversations buzzed in counterpoint to the music, and the smell of booze nearly saturated the stale air. Gabe watched Tanith confer with the host. He crossed the room and held out his hand to her. "You must be Tanith."

Her eyes widened with a momentary flash of surprise before she composed her face to neutral. Like everything else about her, that coolness turned him on. "Gabe?"

He nodded. She took his hand with a stronger grip than he expected. "How did you know it was me?" Her voice aroused him as much as her looks.

"A beautiful face that matches your beautiful voice on the phone."

She rolled her eyes. "You actually get anywhere with lines like that?"

"It's the first time I've tried it." He steered her to his booth and they both sat. "You're saying it's not effective?"

Her laugh resonated through his body.

"So what are you drinking?" His fangs throbbed for the only drink he wanted.

"White wine."

He signaled a server and placed the order.

"Can I refresh that for you?" The server pointed at Gabe's untouched, flat and insipid-looking beer.

"Sure."

Gabe hadn't yet decided how much to tell her about his own background. He figured he'd wait to make that decision until he knew her better. After the server left, he asked Tanith first-date questions. "So, what's a nice girl like you doing in a joint like this?"

She chuckled. "I'm asking myself that same question. You come here often?"

So she was going to match him cliche for cliche. "My first time. But if I'd known great ladies like you hang out here, I'd have come years before."

The server's arrival saved them from exchanging astrological signs. They toasted each other. Though, since his transformation, beer tasted like used dishwater, he sipped some to be companionable.

"The folks at Fangly, My Dear said you're a cop here in San Francisco," he started.

Looking him straight in the eye, Tanith proudly announced, "Been on the force for eight years and just made detective."

A detective. Please, let her not be one of the corrupt ones he and Tom had been investigating. "Uh, you know I'm a vampire, right?"

Her gorgeous mouth twisted into a scowl. "Yes. I requested a date with a vampire." She took a long sip of her wine.

"You did? I guess that surprises me. I know some police officers don't look kindly on our mixing with humans." Duh, smooth move.

"That's an individual choice, not part of our credo. For my private life, I make my own choices."

"I see." He loved the way her eyes flashed when she put him in his place. How would those eyes look when they made love? His d.i.c.k practically sat up and begged. He crossed his legs.

"Did you choose to date a human?" Her voice held a challenging note.

He shrugged, nonchalantly, he hoped. "Not specifically. I'm pretty open."

"Have you dated many vampires?" She finished her wine and he signaled the server to bring more.

"None."

One beautifully arched brow rose. "How come?"

"I haven't been a vampire all that long."

"Oh? Tell me about what you did before and what happened to you to...to make you a vampire."

s.h.i.t. Some day he'd learn to think before he spoke. "I'd prefer for tonight to be all about you." From her smile, he figured he'd just bought some time.

"Most guys only want to talk about themselves."

"I'm not most guys. I want to hear about you."

She motioned dismissively. "Not a whole lot to tell. As I said, I'm a cop. Native San Franciscan. Family's gone. No time for hobbies. I relax by going to the gym or curling up with a good book."

"Really? I'd think a job like yours would be so physical, you wouldn't need a gym."

"You'd think that, but you'd be wrong. Any exercise I get on the job is strictly unplanned. And I need regular workouts to keep me happy."

"Not to mention in incredible shape." When he looked deep in her eyes and did the vampire hypnotic thing Antoine Thierry claimed was foolproof, he could feel her warming to him. He took her hand in his and dropped a kiss on her long fingers. At the mere contact, his whole body shifted into an urgent plea for release.

Talk about being a sucker-funny word to pop into her mind with Gabe Morrow seated across from her. With his pitch-black hair worn on the longish side, chocolate brown eyes and even features, he reminded her of a cross between Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. As if his looks weren't enough, she melted into a puddle of feminine desire at the brush of his lips on her hand.

Heck, she'd always loved seeing men kiss women's hands. The men from Poland, her family's ancestral homeland, traditionally used this form of greeting. Experiencing it from a guy like Gabe Morrow, who could have been a movie star Dracula of the modern, hot kind-definitely not the Nosferatu kind-had her panties moist and her c.l.i.t throbbing. He smiled, and her defenses crumbled. On the heat meter, he'd hit a perfect ten. She was so turned on she didn't know if she'd be able to stand up and walk.

He opened his mouth and she caught a s.e.xy glimpse of fang. Did this mean she turned him on? So much to learn about the amazing creature staring at her from across a very small table. Was his p.e.n.i.s hard too? Did the fangs and c.o.c.k work together in real life the way they did in the novels she devoured? She was trying to shake free of the images these words conjured when he said, "How about we go somewhere more private?"

All small towns have secrets. This one could be deadly.

The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke.

2007 N.J. Walters.

Jamesville, Book 4.

After her father's death, Cyndi Marks returns to Jamesville, determined to settle here and lay the ghosts of years ago to rest once and for all. But the past has a way of catching up-and hanging on.

When her car breaks down outside of town, a handsome stranger stops to help. He intrigues and attracts her, but then she discovers who he is.

Shamus O'Rourke enjoys his job, his family and small town living. What he's missing is someone with whom to share it. Immediately drawn to Cyndi, he is determined to get closer to her, even as he senses her pulling away.

But not everyone in Jamesville is happy to see Cyndi. People are hiding secrets. Secrets they would kill to protect. When violence erupts in her home, Cyndi turns to the only person in town she can trust-Shamus.

In a situation where family loyalties are strained, Cyndi's life is threatened and everyone is a suspect, will their emerging love survive?

Enjoy the following excerpt for: The Seduction of Shamus O'Rourke Jamesville, Maine. It looked so peaceful nestled down in the valley below, but Cyndi knew that even a small town had dirty little secrets. Turning her back on the picturesque scene, she strode to the trunk of her car. She needed to keep focused on the task at hand and right now that included getting her car back on the road so she could reach her destination before dark.

The sun was low in the afternoon sky, but she had an hour or so until it finally sank. Lots of time to change a flat tire and get to the lawyer's office before it closed for the day. Unlocking her trunk, she pocketed her keys and hauled out her two suitcases, setting them beside the car. Next came her laptop, which she tucked into the backseat for safekeeping. Two boxes containing her pillows and comforter, specialty teas, and her favorite snacks were next. She figured she'd need all the comforts she could get. She was under no illusion that the task ahead of her would be easy.

Cyndi ignored the small voice in the back of her head that whispered she didn't have to stay. She'd made her decision and she wasn't about to back down now. It was time for her to face down the demons of her past and put them to rest once and for all. The only way to do that was to settle in Jamesville. She'd put all her belongings in storage, let the lease on her apartment lapse, and quit her job as manager of an upscale bed and breakfast. For better or worse, she was here to stay.

Dragging out the jack and the spare tire, she carried them one at a time to the front of the car. The left-hand tire was as flat as a pancake. She must have picked up a nail or something. As soon as she hit town, she'd have to go to a garage and get it seen to.

As she was shoving the jack beneath the car, she heard another vehicle rumbling up behind her. She scooted in front of her car, not wanting to be out in the road as the other vehicle pa.s.sed. She'd pulled her car as far off the road as she could, but the shoulder wasn't that wide and part of the vehicle was still on the pavement. A dusty, blue truck pa.s.sed her, but the brake lights flashed almost immediately, and the vehicle rolled to a stop several yards up the road.

Cyndi climbed back into the driver's seat and locked all the doors. Maybe she was overreacting, but a woman on her own, on a fairly deserted stretch of road, couldn't be too careful. She knew what Jamesville used to be like, but that was a long time ago. The whole world seemed to have changed in the intervening years.

The truck door opened and a long, jean-clad leg came into view, quickly followed by another. The man who got out of the vehicle was huge, standing at least several inches over six feet. His shoulders were wide, straining the seams of his dirty, white T-shirt. The short sleeves of the shirt did nothing to hide his thick biceps and muscular forearms. His jeans were faded white at the knees and crotch area. Cyndi forced herself to look away. A stranger was coming toward her, and she was staring at his crotch. It had to be the stress she'd been under making her so loopy. Still, she did enjoy the view.

His large, booted feet quickly ate up the distance between them. Cyndi reached into her purse and yanked out her phone, ready to call for help if necessary.

The man stopped beside her door, leaned down and tapped on the window. "Didn't mean to frighten you, ma'am."

Cyndi got her first, really good look at his face and it started her heart pounding, but not from fear. The man was gorgeous, in a rough sort of way. His thick, mola.s.ses-brown hair was tied back at the nape, falling just below his shoulders. His face was all sharp angles and planes; his nose was large, but somehow suited his face. Eyebrows the same color as his hair were straight slashes above a pair of concerned, blue-gray eyes, eyes the same color as the sky just before a storm.

"Ma'am?" She heard his voice through the gla.s.s and realized she was sitting there like a fool simply staring at him.

Quickly she rolled the window down, but just a crack. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"