Wilder's Mate (16 page)

Wilder’s Mate

“I think she’d consider it.” Satira rocked up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “And I think I’d feel better about the work we have ahead of us knowing the people I care about are well.” He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “You know her situation is different than your mother’s, right? The fact that she has sex with men for money doesn’t mean she’s unwell or miserable.”

“It doesn’t mean she’s happy, either.” Satira settled onto her heels again and tilted her head back.

“I’ve known whores who loved their work and far too many who barely survived it. If she prefers her current work…I’ll still feel better. Because she’ll have a choice.” He nodded, satisfied. “Then ask her. It’s certainly a burden you won’t have time to shoulder.” No, she wouldn’t. She had a thousand tasks ahead of her. Perfecting the weapon Nathaniel had designed, not to mention researching a way to synthesize blood for him. Training, because she had every intention of following Wilder into battle, like a Guild inventor should.

She had Wilder. Perhaps not a peaceful life with him, but she’d give up the quiet when it came with such a reward. “No time at all. I’m determined to change our little bit of the world, so you’d best be prepared to keep up.”

“Only fitting,” he agreed. “And since I’m the senior hound around these parts now, I need the very best. Tools, supplies…”

“Sunlight in the palm of your hand, day or night?”

“I was going to say…you.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. Her body. Her heart. She lifted her hands to the buttons on his vest and eased the top one free. “You’ve been keeping your hands to yourself, Mr. Harding. I’ve been waiting for you to take me to bed in our new home, and then I remembered I told you I needed a few days to recover from the new moon.”

His fingers skated over the backs of her hands. “Indeed, that you did.” There was a strange confidence in familiar surroundings. It was so easy to urge him toward a chair and press him down with firm hands at his shoulders.

Hiking her skirts, she slid into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “In the future I’ll remember to issue my invitations more explicitly. Is this clear enough?” Wilder stared up at her solemnly. “Actually…” His hand crept up her thigh. “I’m still a little hazy on the details. Why don’t you explain it to me…at length?”

She could do that. Maybe for the rest of her days.

www.samhainpublishing.com

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About the Author

How do you make a Moira Rogers? Take a former forensic science and nursing student obsessed with paranormal romance and add a computer programmer with a passion for gritty urban fantasy. To learn more about this romance-writing, crime-fighting duo, visit their webpage a
t www.moirarogers.com,
or drop them an email a
t [email protected].
(Disclaimer: crime-fighting abilities may appear only in the aforementioned fevered imaginations.)

Look for these titles by Moira Rogers

Now Available:

Red Rock Pass

Cry Sanctuary

Sanctuary Lost

Sanctuary’s Price

Sanctuary Unbound

Southern Arcana

Crux

Crossroads

Deadlock

Building Sanctuary

A Safe Harbor

Undertow

Coming Soon:

Sabine

Kisri

Hammer Down

Being needed isn't half as desirable as being wanted.

Undertow

© 2010 Moira Rogers

Building Sanctuary, Book 2

Victor left behind a life of crime to focus on a new vision—helping his alpha build an island sanctuary for werewolves. Harsh experiences prepared him for the hardships involved, except when it comes to dealing with the young female refugees of the brutal Boston pack—especially Simone, who rouses his inner wolf like no other. A woman he must resist, or risk becoming just the latest man to make demands on her.

Born to wealth and privilege, Simone lost everything when she fell for the seductive whispers of the textile heir who turned her. Once adrift, now she is fired by a new sense of purpose—the chance to broker peace between werewolves and European wizards. Yet even as Europe beckons, her instincts—the same ones that led to trouble before—keep drawing her back to Victor.

During a sailing trip to the mainland for supplies, Victor finds it impossible to hold himself aloof from the warm, engaging Simone. And when a winter storm traps them together during a full moon, she breaks through his walls so easily and completely, the question is no longer how he’ll stay away, but how he’ll let her go.

Warning: This novella contains werewolves engaged in such improbable (but legal) activities as
lobster fishing and sailing during nor'easters. The breaking and entering and instinct-driven sex on every
surface in someone else’s summer cottage is a little more criminal.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Undertow:

Shifting back to his human form too soon would leave him feral and edgy, but staying a wolf too long would exhaust her. After a few hours, Victor began to herd her back in the direction of the cabin, willing to deal with his own discomfort to spare hers.

She caught on, but stopped short with a yip, and he had to nudge her on before she moved again. She paused again as soon as they cleared the trees by the cabin, watching him carefully.

He huffed and nipped at her flank, and she danced away and bounded to the door. He’d propped it open before shifting, so she had only to push it wide and run inside.

Magic rippled through the air as he ran in, and he found her already kneeling by the banked fire, her pale skin glinting in the dim light. “We’ll have to stir this up.” Victor nudged the door shut and let her see to the fire. She had the advantage now. Freed from the call of the moon, she wouldn’t fall victim to it again unless fear or pain brought the wolf to the surface.

He had a harder battle to fight. The moon hung heavy overhead and dug claws deep into his soul. The

wolf struggled, demanding another chance to run and revel, to be free and wild.

Long minutes passed before he knelt trembling on the floor, sides heaving with rough pants.

“You didn’t have to come back in,” she murmured. “You could stay out. I’ll be fine.”

“So will I.”
Eventually.
“I wanted to come with you.” The flames jumped and crackled as the fresh logs caught, and Simone stood slowly. “Can I help?” She was naked. Beautiful. His to take. Even with pain lingering in his body, his cock stiffened. “That depends. Do you still want me?”

She tilted her head, and a coppery curl fell over her cheek. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you.”

The answer was everything he needed. He rocked to his feet and crossed the space between them, stopping a foot away to admire the wicked curves of her body. Full breasts, flared hips, soft, pale skin…

“You’re so beautiful.”

She closed some of the distance, her fingertips skimming his arms as her gaze drifted down his body.

“So are you.”

He had to make it worth the wait. He had to make up for every moment of pain he’d caused her, erase it all and leave pleasure in its place. The bed was close enough to the fire to benefit from its warmth, so he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the rumpled blankets.

When he laid her on the bed, Simone bit her lip and held out her arms. “Seems silly to be nervous, but I am.”

Victor had no idea if Simone had taken a lover after Edwin, and had no intention of bringing the bastard up now. Instead he slid onto the bed, into her arms, and kissed her softly. “Nothing to be nervous about, darling.”

“It’s easy for you.” She wrapped her hands around him and pulled him closer. “Every time you kiss me, I turn to mush.”

“Just because I’m getting harder instead of softer doesn’t mean you’re not turning me to mush.” Some of the nervousness faded from her smile, and she teased one hand down his side. “An interesting point. One I’ll have to bear in mind.”

He would kiss her first, he decided. Kiss her until she’d forgotten what nerves were, then trace every inch of her with his tongue. She deserved a slow seduction. Worship. He’d claim her by pleasing her.

Her mouth opened under his, soft and needy, and she made quiet noises of pleasure. Before long, her body arched to his, hot and seeking.

The feel of her soft skin under his fingers drove him half-mad. He spread his fingers wide on her abdomen, sweeping his thumb up and down until she nipped at his chin, then gave in and swept his hand up to cup her breast.

Her gasp echoed in the quiet of the room as her nipple hardened under his palm. “Yes.”

“You like this?” He teased his thumb over her nipple and delighted in the play of pleasure across her face. “Would you like my tongue? My teeth?”

Her breath caught, and she slipped her own hand to her other breast and echoed his movements.

“Both.”

So he gave her both, teasing licks giving way to soft nips as his fingers traced her hip and her waist and the soft curve of her belly—anywhere but the beckoning heat between her thighs.

As Simone’s pleasure grew, so did her confidence. She smiled wickedly and rubbed her thigh against his erection. “Can I touch you?”

He couldn’t deny her anything with that light filling her eyes. “Any damn place you want.” Her hand skimmed his stomach and his hip. “Here?”

If she wrapped her fingers around his dick, he’d explode. It might be worth it. “
Anywhere
.”

“Anywhere,” she echoed softly, the back of her hand grazing his hard flesh. “It’s been a long time, Victor.”

An answer to the question he hadn’t asked, and all the more reason to take things slowly. She’d tamed the feral edge of the wolf with her first hesitant smile, and it made it easy to roll onto his back. He tugged at her hand, pulling it up against his chest. “All the time in the world to get it right.” She sat up, kneeling over his thigh. “You won’t hurt me.”

The fact that it was almost a question made him want to hurt
someone
, but he refused to bring anger to bed with them, no matter its object. “Not in a thousand years.” Simone released a soft breath, one he doubted she knew she’d been holding, and bent over him until her lips met his bare shoulder.

It felt good—it felt fucking
fantastic
, but lying passively was its own sort of torture. He let himself thread his fingers loosely through her hair but didn’t try to guide her. Instead he channeled the need trembling inside him into words. “I’m going to spend hours touching you. So many places I want to kiss.”

“Here?” She kissed the center of his chest, then lower. “Or here?” He tightened his fingers in her hair and lifted her head, giving her a deadly serious look. “I’ll let you lick my cock like an ice cream cone if that’s what you want, but you look me in the eye first and tell me
you
want to.”

Again, that gentle smile. “I wouldn’t if I didn’t want to, but I do. I want to taste you.” Christ, he really
was
going to come like an overeager boy. And he didn’t care, as long as she let him keep touching her. “Do I get to return the favor?”

She laughed and nibbled at his stomach. “Absolutely.”

He was tempted—more than tempted—to drag her hips around and show her just what he could do with his tongue. Let her ride his mouth while she went down on him, see who lost it first. Tempting—but he didn’t want any distractions when he made her come the first time. Not for him, and not for her.

Simone stroked his cock, lightly at first and then harder, her eyes locked with his. “I like the way you look at me.”

“How am I looking at you?” It came out as a growl, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“As if there’s no doubt at all,” she whispered. “Like you
want
me.” She touched her tongue to the head of his cock, licking delicately.

No power in hell or on earth could have kept his hips from jerking up toward the heat of her mouth.

“Like I’m imagining how good you’ll look riding me?”

Her blue eyes darkened with passion. “Like you can’t wait to sink into me.”

“I can’t.” Victor drove his teeth into his lower lip to keep rougher words from tumbling out. He wanted to fuck her with his tongue until she was limp and trembling. Slide into her cunt before she finished coming. Watch her face when she realized she was
his
.

Love lifted her heart to the skies. The rest of her needed a little more help.

Flavia’s Flying Corset

© 2010 Sahara Kelly

A
Silk, Steel and Steam
Story

When Flavia Winters enters the aerial carriage that will convey her across churning waters to the magnificent, isolated castle of Dr. Harland Gennaro, it’s not a polite social call. Nor does she hope to re-ignite their former passion. Oh, no. She’s convinced the renowned scientist stole something of value from her lab, and she plans to get it back by
whatever
means necessary.

Once Harland blinks away the temporary blindness caused by Flavia’s clever magnesium beads, he finds himself tied to a chair as she insists he return a vital ingredient for some impossibility called “Icarus”.

Then she demonstrates with the last of her compound, and all he can think about is convincing her he’s not the guilty party—and getting into the lab with her to recreate her gravity-defying wonder.

Side by side, they burn the midnight oil making new discoveries, and re-learning old ones about each other. As an ocean storm rises with their desire, though, skullduggery is afoot. A thief watches and waits for the moment they make a discovery that could be their last.

Warning: Reading this book may stimulate an interest in the principles of physics, aerodynamics and
the science of sexual arousal. The author is not responsible for any injury incurred while investigating all
three topics simultaneously.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Flavia’s Flying Corset: Harland prided himself on the efficiency of his unique home, in fact he’d put several years worth of thought into the additional design elements. Thus he was able to provide a suitable meal to start the day. At least he thought it was suitable. Tea, of course. Toast, not too badly burned. Some marmalade Mountjoy had recommended and he’d approved. Of course, he had a suspicion that Mountjoy was walking out with the marmalade maker, but that was his business, not Harland’s.