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...

Publisher: Harlequin


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.


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.