Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance

Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance

Claim Me

by | Oct 27, 2024

When Antonio Cruz, the powerful new leader of San Francisco's Panther shifters, meets outcast Solana Perez in a dark alley, their passion lights up the night. 

He senses that she is his mate, but her position as a non-shifter—a Panther who cannot change forms—means he can never claim her. Rejected by the Pride long ago, Solana knows she's untouchable for a Pride leader, knows that she has no place among her kind. She tries to resist her craving for him, but their chemistry is undeniable, challenging Pride laws and Antonio's leadership.

As rival Panthers sense weakness, Antonio faces an impossible choice: reject Solana to maintain order, or risk everything for a love that defies shifter tradition. In a world where passion clashes with duty and shifter politics turn deadly, Antonio and Solana's forbidden romance could be their salvation—or their downfall.

Note: this story was originally published as part of the On the Prowl anthology.

Published:
Publisher: CJ Books (https://www.cjbooks.com)
Cover Artists:
Olena Hill of Neuro Covers
Genres:
Paranormal/Shape-Shifters
Tags:
Novella
Excerpt:

Antonio watched the men circle his mate from atop a building far above the alley they’d cornered her in. A few nimble leaps brought him to the end of the shadowed corridor. He jerked his clothes off and dropped them as he ran, shifted into his Panther form to let his black fur blend into the night, and stalked the men as they had stalked her.

The predators became the prey.

He ran his tongue down a long fang, anticipation and rage boiling hot in his veins. They would pay for scaring her. God and all the saints couldn’t save them if they harmed her.

It had taken two days to track her scent after he’d sensed her in the city. And now he’d found her. Nothing compared to the ice that froze the blood in his veins when he heard her first scream, the terror of seeing men hunt her. Yes, these men would beg for his mercy before the night was through. A growl rumbled from his chest as he moved down the alley, his claws clicking on the pavement.

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When one of the men grabbed for her, a roar ripped from his throat. Everyone froze, turning in slow motion to stare at the newcomer. A Panther. He bared his teeth and watched the man closest to him turn ghostly pale. He could smell their fear, taste the tang of it on his tongue, and he took a small amount of satisfaction in that.

This close, even his rage couldn’t cloud the fact that the men weren’t human. They were Panthers, like him. Worse, they were from his Pride. The Ruiz brothers—Javier, Felipe, and Roberto. His own people, under his rule. Why would they hunt a Panther female? If she belonged to another Pride and was visiting his territory, then her Pride leader would hold him responsible for any harm his people caused her. Not to mention she was his mate and he would shred them alive for hunting her in the first place.

She screamed, and the frozen tableau broke into chaos. Antonio lunged forward, slicing his claws into Roberto’s calf. He went down with a spray of blood and saliva, squealing and clutching his leg.

Antonio leaped over the fallen man to sprint forward, intent on reaching his mate. Felipe shifted to Panther form, hissing a warning, but it meant nothing to Antonio. They were past the point of warnings. A single leap forward and the two of them clashed midair, claws and fangs tearing into each other. Antonio slashed across the young Panther’s face and he rolled away with a whimper, his black fur matted with dark crimson blood.

Antonio’s tail whipped around as he sprang for Javier. The man tried to climb the wall, but he had no more chance of escape than Antonio’s mate had. Antonio dragged him down to the ground, his fangs digging into the man’s jeans. Both front paws planted on the younger man’s chest, making him wheeze, and Antonio shoved his face into Marco’s. A growl vibrated his vocal cords, and what little blood was left in the man’s face fled. His bloodshot eyes went wide with horror.

His mate’s soft cry reached Antonio’s ears, jerking him back from the edge of feral. He shuddered, fighting the instincts of his Panther nature. He turned toward her, wanting to comfort her and soothe her fear.

But she wasn’t looking at him—she snarled at Felipe, bracing her back against the wall as she hissed deep in her throat. A purr rumbled his chest at her courage.

Javier took the opportunity to speak. “Please, sir. Listen to me. She doesn’t deserve protection. She’s a—”

A roar ripped free from Antonio’s throat as he transformed into his human form. He hoisted the shorter man up by his T-shirt until they were nose to nose. “Silence! The three of you will be in my study when I return to the mansion. Is that clear?”

“But how long until—”

“Obey me. You won’t enjoy the consequences if you don’t. But I will.” He dropped Javier to his feet. The younger man scrambled away and ran. His brothers had already disappeared.

He turned back to his mate. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. You?” She shoved her dark hair out of her face, her fingers sifting through the streaks of blond that shot through the long strands. He soaked in the details of her, taking in every curve of her face and body. Her chocolate-brown eyes searched him and they went wide when she saw the straining erection jutting between his thighs. Shifting back had left him naked. A wry smile pulled at his lips. He was going to have to figure out where he’d dropped his clothes and hope some vagrant didn’t steal them before he got there. For the moment, he focused on his mate.

She sucked in a quick breath when he took a step toward her. Swaying on her feet, she stared at him for long moments. The silence stretched to a fine breaking point. She shook her head, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. “It can’t be.”

She’d finally sensed it—that they were mates.

“Oh, but it can be. It is.” Stalking forward, he backed her up against the brick wall. His nostrils flared to catch her sweet scent, the one he would become addicted to. He had no doubt she had the same adrenaline humming through her as he did, and it morphed into something hotter, more carnal. Anger and fear still pumped through his system. His shaking fingers fisted at his sides. His eyes narrowed at her and a dart of excitement flashed through her gaze. The delicate smell of her wetness filled his nostrils. It was heady. She swallowed, her lids dropping to half-mast.

She released a breathy laugh, and naked want shone in her gaze. “I don’t believe it. We can’t be mates.”

“Let me prove it to you,” he growled.

COLLAPSE

Reclaimed by the Immortal Viking Shifter

by | Mar 25, 2024

Reclaimed by the Immortal Viking Wolf

As Viking warriors, raven-shifter Bryn and wolf-shifter Erik broke each other's hearts in the name of vengeance a thousand years ago. And it cost their mortal lives.

Reborn as an immortal valkyrie and berserker who serve Freya and Odin, they’ve managed to steer clear of each other for almost a millennium.

But their god and goddess have gone missing, and signs of the end times have begun to appear. Bryn and Erik will have to team up if they want to stop the apocalypse and defeat the monsters hell-bent on ruling Earth.

What they don’t expect is to fall as hard for each other as they had so long ago. But no one cares about warriors’ hearts, not when the world is depending on them to win.

Even if they pay with their lives. Again.

Reclaimed by the Immortal Viking Bear

Viking god of thunder and bear-shifter Thor has been married to the earth goddess Sif for millennia, but tragedy and betrayal tore them apart long ago. Now husband and wife in name only, they avoid each other when they can and barely tolerate each other when they can’t.

Too bad they’re still in love—though they’d never admit it.

But ancient prophecies are beginning to turn against them, leaving them no more room for misgivings. The apocalypse is coming, and unless they work together, they don’t stand a chance against the enemies they face.

Can they learn to trust again, or will the end of the world consume them both?

Please note: the ebook version of the book is available exclusively on Kindle Unlimited. All other links are for the paperback print version. The individual stories in this anthology are available widely as ebooks.

Published:
Publisher: CJ Books (https://www.cjbooks.com)
Editors:
Hart to Heart Editing (Website), Twin Tweaks Editing (Website)
Cover Artists:
Getcovers (Website)
Genres:
Paranormal/Shape-Shifters, Suspense/Action Adventure
Tags:
Anthology
Excerpt:

Ravencrest Farm, Virginia

“I need a shieldmaiden.”

Bryn was bent over, digging out a rock that had gotten wedged under one of her horse’s shoes. At the sound of that voice, deep and rich and so familiar, every muscle in her body froze. Pain and longing and a million other emotions she refused to feel twisted through her soul. Moving as slowly as a thousand-year-old woman—which was actually how old she was—she carefully set the mare’s hoof on the ground and straightened, but didn’t turn around to face him. “Well, you’ll need to keep looking, then.”

“Brynhild.”

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“Just Bryn, thanks. Go away, Siegfried.” The gods knew he’d never show up here unless it was to fuck up her life. No, thanks. She might once have been a shieldmaiden, a valkyrie. She might still be able to shift into a raven and soar into the clouds. She might be older than dirt. But all of that meant she had an even lower bullshit tolerance than she did back in the day when Siegfried was the love of her life. Also her betrayer, her tormenter, the man who cost her mortal life. The man who she’d betrayed in turn, a blood-soaked vengeance she’d never been able to cleanse from her stained, battered soul.

That was a long time ago, but some wounds never really healed, did they? She tried not to think about it. Ever.

She stroked a hand down the horse’s silky neck. Unhooking the crossties, she snapped a lead line on to the mare’s halter, and walked her to her stall.

No sound gave away the fact that he’d followed her, but she was keenly aware of his presence, his nearness, his ability to throw her off-balance. Tingles skipped over her skin and she tried to ignore the reaction.

His voice came from directly behind her when she latched the stall. “I’ve used Siegfried as my surname since I came to America. A hundred years ago. Maybe more.”

“Okay.” She infused as much disinterest into the word as she could manage.

“Erik is what you can call me now.”

“I prefer to call you gone.” She set off down the wide, concrete barn aisle. The sun would set in about half an hour, so she had to wrap up for the day. One more horse needed to be brought in. She whistled as she approached the paddock gate and Rogue’s Gallery came galloping up to the fence. The stallion slid to a stop just before he reached her, rearing up and whinnying.

She snorted. “Settle down, show-off.”

The stallion snorted back, shaking his head. The second she opened the gate, he shoved his nose against her shoulder, demanding petting. She scratched behind his ears and he nickered in appreciation. “Ah, now. That’s my boy.”

“He looks like my Grani,” Erik noted. “Same color, anyway. Gray as stone.”

Yes, and she hated to admit that she might have a soft spot for Rogue for just that reason. “Grani was a warhorse who died a millennium ago. Rogue here is a thoroughbred. He had a great racing career and now I keep him for stud.”

She clipped on the lead rope and then had no choice but to face her unwelcome guest.

Whoa. Her lips parted, surprise spurting through her. What a change. He was still enormously tall and built like a honed Viking warrior, a berserker who could conquer an army with one hand tied behind his back. It was his hair that caught her attention. Or rather, the lack thereof. He’d shaved his head, and the look was so different, she blinked. She’d seen him once or twice over the last thousand plus years, never of her own will, but when Odin and Freya had summoned them at the same time, there was nothing Bryn could do about it.

This was the most dramatic change he’d ever made to his appearance. He’d always worn his hair long, no matter what the current fashion of the time dictated. His silver eyes, framed by absurdly long lashes, somehow seemed even more dramatic, more intense. Before this moment, she wouldn’t have believed it possible.

That gaze pinned her in place like a bug under a microscope, and it took effort not to squirm. She wasn’t used to that. Most men she met were like spoiled toddlers, and it had been a couple of decades since one had interested her in doing anything other than yawn.

Decades. Shit, she might be regrowing her hymen at this rate.

And thinking about sex while staring at Erik was a mistake. She shook herself and glanced away. Somehow with the shaved head, it was easier to think of him as Erik instead of Siegfried. Though he was both now, wasn’t he? Erik Siegfried. The new name suited him.

“Why are you still here?” She brushed passed him—careful not to make actual contact—and led Rogue to the smaller stallion barn.

“Are you serious?” he asked, incredulousness dripping from the question. “You’ve seen the signs, Brynhil—Bryn. You have to know what they mean.”

Hurricanes, earthquakes, winters that lasted far too long, summers that burned far too hot. Mortals thought it was climate change, but a valkyrie could sense the difference. Signs of the end times. The Vikings called it Ragnarök—the Twilight of the Gods—but it had been given many names by many cultures. Armageddon, eschaton, apocalypse, Satya Yuga, the appearance of Maitreya—it was all the same, as far as she was concerned—a prophesized final chapter before a supposed golden era began.

She shrugged as she finished putting Rogue away, then she turned to Erik. “Ah, but you’re the dragon slayer who’s supposed to kill the baddies who want to take over the world. I suggest you quit bothering me and get to it.”

His smile was sharp and unamused. “Trust me, I’d like nothing more than kill the baddies, preferably before they do the kind of damage that will land us in Ragnarök. Unfortunately, I need a shieldmaiden’s help.”

“I’m not the only one left.” Though, it had been a century or more since she’d been in contact with any other valkyrie. Freya hadn’t summoned her in a long time, and Bryn was just fine with that. She had her farm, her horses, and a quiet existence she enjoyed. “Go pester someone else.”

“Damn it, Bryn.” He scrubbed a hand over his head, looking as if he’d like nothing more than to strangle her. Interesting. He’d always been so obnoxiously calm and patient back in the day.

It annoyed the shit out of her that she liked this less stoic side of him. She widened her eyes innocently. “What?”

“I need your help.” He spread his hands in a gesture of helpless frustration, his heavy brows snapping together.

“No.” There. Simple, easy. An idiot should get that message through his thick skull.

The growl he emitted was more wolf than man, reminding her that berserkers could shift forms as easily as valkyrie. Again, that less civil side of him was…too alluring, too tempting, tugging at something deep within her. Something she’d rather crush under her boot.

COLLAPSE

Treasured

by | Mar 4, 2024

Graduate student Rebecca Small is so obsessed with the past—especially the Golden Age of Piracy—she doesn’t mind her unglamorous job preparing museum displays. This display is about her favorite subject, James Morrow, a famous pirate who mysteriously disappeared without a trace.

Becca touches the pirate’s antique sword, and finds herself on a ship in the middle of a sword fight, saving the sexy captain from being stabbed in the back—literally. Once the smoke clears, the man who claims he’s her husband is more than eager to reward her for her timely assistance.

James Morrow knows very little about the woman he was forced to marry five years ago, but the woman who saved him doesn’t fit the portrait he’s painted of her in his mind. She’s strong, brave, and submits to his every dark desire. She seems the perfect woman for a pirate, but he makes his living among the dishonest and disreputable—trust isn’t a commodity he trades in.

Published:
Publisher: CJ Books (https://www.cjbooks.com)
Genres:
Time Travel
Tags:
Novella
Excerpt:

Her fingers itched to touch it. They flexed midair, hovering over the smooth curve of steel blade. The long dagger’s jeweled hilt flashed and sparkled, taunting her, daring her to stroke over the intricate gold weaving of the guard. It looked perfectly balanced, just waiting for someone who knew how to wield its dangerous beauty. She slid a practiced gaze over the blade. Somehow she knew the sturdy hilt would sit perfectly in her hand. If there was one thing she knew, it was fencing—and she had the fencing-championship trophies at home to prove it. The only way she’d been able to squeak by in graduate school was to give lessons. She sighed. Education didn’t come cheap, and fencing sure beat prostitution. Not that any man in his right mind would pay to sleep with a short, brown-eyed, mousy-haired, girl-next-door type.

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Rebecca Small fisted her fingers and withdrew as she had every day for the past week. The museum had recently acquired the dagger as part of a collection that had belonged to an eighteenth-century pirate. A distant relative had donated everything. As a lowly intern, she had to prepare the collection for display. She could never touch the artifact with her bare hand. And the gloves she had to wear frustrated her because she wanted to feel the cool metal against her skin.

She turned away and pulled on a pair of gloves, intent on finding something else to occupy her. She glanced up. Captain James Morrow. The name echoed in her mind, made her shiver.

“Hello, James.” The man was a mystery, which probably contributed to her fascination with him. He was born in England in 1684, made lieutenant in the British Navy during Queen Anne’s War, became a privateer, then his thirst for adventure led him to piracy after France and England negotiated a peace agreement in 1711. He fell off the face of the Earth in 1720. No historian had ever found out what happened to him. Had he died? Given up the life of a pirate? There were no answers, and her curiosity about James Morrow burned unquenched.

She ran a gloved finger down the gilt frame that edged his portrait. She wondered what color his eyes were. In the painting they appeared a laser blue shade that couldn’t be real. They seemed to follow her as she worked. She often stopped to stare at him.

He was gorgeous. His inky black hair hung in a neat queue. The painting showed the tall, broad man lounging against a large chair. Treasure chests lay open at his feet, spilling jewels, silks and furs. A model of his ship, The Dark Fortune, rested on a table to his left.

A half smile pulled at his full lips. The wicked glint in his eyes made her wonder if he was any good in bed. Heat pulsed between her legs, and she squeezed her eyes closed. She could see them together in her mind, rolling on the plush furs depicted in the painting. Pleasure rushed in her veins. Guilt flashed through her—she was at work. This wasn’t the time to get hot and bothered. And yet…she was alone in the museum. What could it hurt to indulge herself? She discarded her gloves, bit her lip, and let her head fall back. Dropping her hand, she stroked her fingers over her pussy. The man in her fantasy thrust his hand into her hair, tugging her head back to nip and suck at her neck. He forced his leg between hers and rode her cunt on his muscled thigh. Wetness soaked her panties, and her clit bloomed against her fingertips. Gasping, she shuddered as her hips worked faster and faster.

Her harsh moan echoed in the large storeroom and startled her out of her lustful daydream. She jerked her hand away, her body still shrieking for orgasm.

Blushing hard, she shook herself. “Get a grip, Becca. It’s a painting.”

It was insane, the fantasies she had about him. She had a perfectly nice guy who kept asking her out, and she always turned him down. For what? A pirate. A painting of a pirate.

She’d say yes to Steve the next time he asked. She nodded. That was that. No more lusting after Captain James Morrow.

Tonight, she got to open the slatted wood carton that held the painting of his wife. That should cool her fantasies off. She’d never gone for married men. “Especially not dead-for-three-hundred-years married men,” she muttered.

The concrete floor froze her toes, and she wriggled them against the rough surface. She’d kicked off her shoes as soon as she arrived. The museum director, Dr. Cuthbert, would have a seizure if he saw her this way, but she hated wearing shoes. And since she was the only one here this late, she figured she should get comfortable. It would be a long night. The things she was willing to do to finish her Master’s degree in History amazed her. At least this collection was free of bugs and other pests. She shuddered just thinking about the last acquisition the museum had received. What a nightmare.

She was stalling. Rambling in her own head to avoid opening the wife’s portrait. Once she did, it was real. No more pirate booty for her. Not even in her dreams. It was the last piece in the collection and she’d avoided it as long as possible. Everything was going on exhibit in the morning, so she couldn’t put it off any more.

This was it.

Shoving a few empty boxes out the way, she uncovered the mystery woman’s crate. A few sharp tugs and the lid came off. Straw-covering protected the painting from the elements. She carefully lifted the straw away to reveal the bottom of the painting. All she could see was James’s wife from the neck down. Rich red silk made up the bodice of the dress the woman wore. A long string of fat black pearls hung from her neck to pool in her lap. Becca loved pearls. An envious sigh slid from her lips.

Impatient to see the rest, to know what the rest of the woman looked like, she scooped out the remaining straw.

“Huh.” She blinked down at the portrait.

The painting had seen better days and the woman’s picture had sustained heavy water-damage. Someone with obvious skill had repaired it, but her face looked…smudged. Out of focus. Becca sighed. What a let-down. From what she could make out, James’s wife wasn’t a gorgeous woman. Her chin was lifted and in profile, but she glanced out of the painting from the corner of her light brown eye. Blondish-brown hair was piled on top of her head. Still, there was something about her that Becca couldn’t put her finger on. Like she’d seen her somewhere before. Perhaps in one of her history textbooks? She couldn’t be sure. She made a mental note to look into it.

Her lips twisted. Discontent settled in her belly. It was always this way. The past was the only thing that made her heart pound. And even her ardor for that had begun to cool. Deep down she knew she never quite…fit. Not with her colleagues, her friends, her classmates, her love interests. Nowhere. She wished she could be satisfied with herself, her life. But it never seemed right to her either.

God, she must be tired. She never let herself think about this kind of thing. It just depressed her. She shouldn’t dwell on what she couldn’t change, but she was building her career on looking backwards. Obsessing over the past had always been her escape from a world she didn’t fit into. Stretching her stiff shoulders, she sighed.

Turning away from the painting, her gaze again landed on the dagger. It drew her to it, and she found herself standing over it, staring. Her fingers shook, clenched in an effort not to touch. The guard spun in intricate whorls studded with tiny rubies and sapphires. She appreciated good craftsmanship in blades. This one was a beauty. On an irresistible whim, she gave into temptation. What could it really hurt? No one would know. A single finger followed the sensuous curve of the blade and up over the delicate jewels.

Since she’d already broken the rules, she curled her hand around the handle and lifted the dagger. She sighed. Perfect. Just as she suspected.

“En garde!”

She snapped into the familiar fencing pose, swung the dagger experimentally. For someone as short as her, it served as a short sword. Block, riposte, parry. She thrust forward into a deep lunge and the blade sank into a man’s chest. A thick, silencing fog surrounded the two of them. His gurgling death scream pierced the silence and was echoed by a dozen other shrieks of agony. The warm, unnatural fog rolled back to leave her in chilled evening air. Her shocked gaze followed the man’s sickening slide off her sword and to the blood-slicked wooden deck. Smoke surrounded her, choked her as a wild cacophony slammed into her ears.

COLLAPSE

Wild

by | Mar 4, 2024

Marra's body burned with desire. It was Wild time, the first week of spring, when Lynx from all over North America gathered in the Sierra Nevada foothills to mate. The time when every Lynx female went into heat.

But Wild is bittersweet for Marra. She's past the age when most Lynx find their mate. She only comes to Wild for sex and always leaves as she came: alone.

Yet this year is different. A new male Lynx has come to Wild, a foreigner who will claim her in ways she only imagined...

Published:
Publisher: Harlequin (https://www.harlequin.com/)
Editors:
Susan Swinwood
Genres:
Paranormal/Shape-Shifters
Tags:
Short Story
Excerpt:

Wild.

God, she needed it. Marra's body burned with the cravings she could barely contain. Restlessness made her fingers tighten on the steering wheel, made her squirm in her seat. She flipped the headlights off as she exited the highway. She could see just as well in the dark, and she didn't want to blind any of her kind who might be nearby.

And many of them would be close.

This was the Wild time, the first week of Spring. Lynx from all over North America gathered in the Sierra Nevada foothills every year for this one event. Hers was a solitary kind, except at Wild. Every female of their breed went into heat at this time.

A shiver wracked her body. Heat held her in its unyielding grip, and she reveled in it. The urge to fuck was more than she could bear, made her skin feel too tight for her body. Her nipples peaked in anticipation of the days to come.

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Lynx would rut in the abandon only Wild could grant them. She allowed a small smile to curve her lips at the thought. Wild always caused a bittersweet pang for her. This was the time for mates to be sensed and claimed, but Marra was long past the age of mating. She arrived alone and left the same way, denied what others had found. Her shoulder lifted in a rueful shrug. It was her destiny, no matter how lonely. But Wild was not about regrets—it was about connection. Sex. And she would enjoy it as she always did. A fuller smile bloomed on her lips, and she almost purred. Pulling off the dirt path, she parked in the long row of other cars. Everything from new Mercedes to old pick-ups held together with bailing wire lined the road.

Money didn't matter now, only instinct. The veneer of civility they wore in the human world would be cast aside to let the feral cats within them loose. Her hands shook as she fumbled for the door handle.

When she stepped out of the car, the unmuted scents of the night pressed in on her. She breathed deep. The smell of other Lynx, of sex and all that was Wild filled her nostrils. She barely held a moan in check.

Holding herself with the thinnest thread of restraint, she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off of her arms. The rasp of her pants' zipper sounded loud and unnatural to her ears. Wriggling her hips, she pushed her slacks down and stepped out of her heels. No pantyhose or underwear. She wouldn't need it for this. She wouldn't need clothes at all. Tucking her discarded garments into her car, she closed the door. The cool mountain air caressed her taut nipples, the planes of her belly, the damp heat of her pussy.

Then her control snapped.

COLLAPSE

Between Lovers

by | Mar 4, 2024

All Rhiannon Reid wants is to return home to her old life, even though nothing will ever be the same again.

On a fateful camping trip, fiery Oregon beauty Rhiannon is kidnapped and turned into a Between—a magical shape-shifting beast. The Between are as reviled as they are coveted in human society, and no one should have this monstrous magic forced onto them. Rescued by the Between royal guard, she’s whisked away to the mysterious island nation ruled by their golden king, lion-shifter Elan Delacourt.

The last thing Elan wants is for Rhiannon to tell anyone that she was turned against her will. It would put every Between across the planet at risk if she fanned humans’ fears and prejudice about the Between. The man who hurt her is dead, and one bad Between shouldn’t put the rest of them in harm’s way.

Elan will do anything to convince Rhiannon, including using their blistering chemistry to seduce her over to his way of thinking. But Rhiannon isn’t so easily swayed and, as the two test each other's strength and character, they lose themselves in the hot-blooded battle…

Note: This story was previously published as part of the Sexy Beast 9 anthology.

Published:
Publisher: CJ Books (https://www.cjbooks.com)
Editors:
Hart to Heart Editing (Website)
Cover Artists:
Frauke Spanuth (Website)
Genres:
Paranormal/Shape-Shifters, Suspense/Action Adventure
Tags:
Novella
Excerpt:

Elan rolled his tight shoulders, shoved his hands in his pockets, and left the room to wander down the hallway that lead to his suite. He smiled tiredly to the Guards positioned along the hall, and they nodded back.

His eyes burned with grit, and he knew he should sleep, but doubted he'd be able to. The way his muscles felt, he'd probably do better if he spent an hour in the gym before he crawled into bed. What he should not do was call Rhiannon to see if she was still up. Nor should he walk down the long pathway to her house and just surprise her. So far, she'd protested neither, no matter how late he worked. She just slid her hands over his body and kissed his as greedily as he kissed her. No questions, no accusations, nothing but a quiet understanding of the momentary escape from reality they both needed.

And, God, he needed.

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It was dangerous and stupid to crave her like he did. Even more dangerous was that he enjoyed talking to her as much he enjoyed fucking her. Sex was one thing, but any other kind of intimacy shouldn't even factor into this affair. He was supposed to be winning her over, not the other way around. Damn it.

“Sire.” The Guard stationed outside Elan's suite snapped to attention and held the door open. “You have a visitor.”

The other man didn't specify who, but he didn't need to. Only a handful of people had the security clearance to be allowed in the king's private quarters, and when Elan stepped into his sitting room, he drew in a lungful of her sweet scent.

Rhiannon.

Tilting his head, he waited for the feel of her boundless energy to vibrate along his senses. It didn't come. Frowning, he followed the smell of her into his bedroom and over to the wide expanse of his mattress. She lay curled on her side, one palm tucked under her cheek in sleep. His chest tightened with a tenderness he didn't want and shouldn't feel. The pose made her look impossibly young and innocent, something he knew wasn't true. A smile curved his lips. The woman more than matched him in insatiable wickedness.

Reaching out to push back a flaming curl gently, he watched her eyelashes flutter. She yawned, rolled onto her back, and stretched. Those changeable eyes locked on his face, unpredictable as her moods, and she smiled. “Mmm. I tried to stay up, but the bed looked too inviting. What time is it?”

“Very late. Or very early, depending on your definition.” He let his fingertip trail over her soft cheek, down her throat, and across her collarbone as he mapped his way to her cleavage.

Arching into his touch, she chuckled. “I wore myself out today. Kira has me teaching Pilates to the poor, unfortunate guys on your Guard. The women on the Guard are loving the show, and I'm pretty sure Kira's just enjoying watching the men be tortured into flexibility.”

He knew that. Every move she made was reported back to him, but listening to her animated retelling made him smile. “How's my brother doing with it?”

“Very well.” She licked her lips and stared at his mouth, desire shimmering in her gaze. “And flirting with me outrageously while he shows off for his people.”

Elan's hand froze, hovering over her silken flesh. He shoved back the totally unfamiliar jealousy, reminding himself that the more Between Rhiannon liked and cared about, the more successful his plan would be. He closed his mouth tightly, hiding the fact that his fangs had elongated to deadly points.

Sitting up, Rhiannon tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor beside the bed. “It's good that I'm keeping in practice with my teaching for when I go back to Portland. I'm going to have to hit the ground running at the gym.”

His muscles tightened as the blow of her leaving hit his gut the same way his jealousy had. That she was leaving wasn't a surprise--that he hated the idea was. It was a bad sign and it worried him. Shoving his hand into her red-gold hair, he pulled her head around until he could slam his mouth over hers. The possession in the gesture angered him because he knew he had no right to feel it.

Her lips parted under his, welcoming his kiss. He groaned and filled his hands with her breasts, desperate to touch her, to claim her. The lace of her bra maddened him, kept him from softness of her flesh, the tightness of her nipples. A quick jerk and the fabric gave under his superhuman strength. He threw the offending garment in the same direction as her shirt.

COLLAPSE