Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance

Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance

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.

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

He’s a prince. She’s a bodyguard for the royal family. He’s off-limits, but for one night they’re breaking all the rules.

As an arctic fox-shifter and royal bodyguard, Kira Seaton lives to protect her queen, but the king's brother Max is the one who commands her desire. She longs for him with a feral sexuality and ferocious passion she can barely control. Her family has served the royal household for generations, making him forbidden fruit, but she's determined to cut free from those outdated traditions and go after the man she's wanted for years. Just this once.

Wolf-shifter Max Delacourt has always known that Kira was untouchable. Not because he’s a prince, but because he's a born killer. He puts those deadly instincts to good use protecting his people, but that doesn't wash away the blood on his hands. Kira deserves a better man than he'll ever be, and he's always known it.

But when an assassin targets the king and queen, Max and Kira need to work together to defend those they love the most. Including each other.

Note: This story was previously published as part of the NightShift anthology.

Excerpt:

It was time to put up or shut up.

A spurt of adrenaline flooded Kira's veins, and she felt a feral smile pull at her lips. Her fangs pricked at her flesh, and she ran her tongue down one long canine to the wicked point.

The fox-shifter within her easily caught the scent of the man she wanted. He was a Between, like her. A shape-shifter. Max Delacourt. The rich male scent of human male edged with the animalistic scent of a red wolf. It was a smell she knew as well as her own, one she'd craved for far too long. And she would have him. Soon. Whether he knew it or not.

She was through waiting. Tonight she would have him.

A low moan sounded through the door she stood guard beside, and she smoothed her expression into a professional mask. If anyone knew how to wear a professional mask, it was her--she'd learned from her butler father. No one could poker face like a butler born and bred in England.

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Kira's replacement turned a corner in the hallway to walk toward the royal suite. The Between king and his fiancée had been closeted inside for the seven hours since Rhiannon had returned to the palace. Kira had to work to smother a smile. King Elan hadn't been able to hide his impatience to have Rhiannon back on the island nation of San Amaro. He'd barely managed to slam the door in his Guards' faces before the carnal sounds of mating had begun filtering into the hall.

In many ways, it was a relief to have Rhiannon here instead of running her health club in Oregon. The stubborn woman had insisted that she didn't need to be followed around by security guards if she wasn't royalty yet, so Kira had had to arrange for more covert means to assure the future queen's safety. As second in command of the King's Guard, Kira had been pulling double duty for months taking care of her normal job assignment, plus handling her unspoken position as the head of the future Queen's Guard.

With all the details of her business tied up and the wedding the next day, Rhiannon was on San Amaro to stay. Finally. The only person happier about that than Elan was Kira. No more juggling jobs for her. No more pretending. She was openly in charge of Rhiannon's security detail, which would officially become the Queen's Guard after the wedding ceremony.

“Everything okay?” Her replacement for the next guard rotation stopped in front of her, his face serious.

They both froze when a pleasured female scream echoed out of the king's room. Using every one of the skills she'd learned at her father's knee, Kira cleared her throat. “Yes. Everything's going just fine.”

“So it seems,” the man quipped, a faint grin on his face.

Kira clapped him on the shoulder as she headed down the hallway. “Enjoy your evening. Or something.”

He snorted, and she glanced back to see him settling into place beside the door. Good.

Pushing open a side door, she stepped out into the cool night. The sea breeze off the Pacific carried the hints of salt and open water, mixing with the deeper scents of garden blooms and the people on the island. Even as the familiar environment encouraged her to relax, she did an automatic sweep of the area to make sure that the palace was as secure as it should be. They'd had several serious threat against the king's life recently--one in particular that had the entire Guard on alert--and it paid to be cautious. More than that, old habits died hard, and she'd been a cop for the LAPD before she'd joined Elan's Guard when he'd become king.

It had been a crazy time for the Between. The former king had outted their kind to the human population just before he died, which left Elan scrambling to protect the rights of Between all over the world. His family had owned San Amaro, an island off the coast of southern California, and the United States annexed the land as a sovereign nation for the half-animal shifters.

Kira thought Elan had done a better job for their race than his father Phillip ever had. Good riddance to the old bastard.

The hot smell of Max swirled through the air, scattering her thoughts. She automatically moved in that direction. It was like a Lorelei, that scent. Calling to her, tempting her, taunting her. Her heartbeat quickened, blood throbbing in her veins as her body readied itself for what she had in mind. Yes. All she needed now was Max.

COLLAPSE

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.

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

Love is the most dangerous experiment of all.

There is only one rule in the Wasteland: survive.

The few remaining women are as reviled as they are worshipped, a commodity any man must pay to touch. And to touch a Wanderer, he may pay with his life.

For Ezra, the risk is worth the reward. People speak his name with the same reverent terror reserved for ancient, wrathful gods, but he must always be ready to fend off those who would take what’s his. And what he wants to be his is Kadira.

Kadira, adopted after she witnessed the slaughter of her devoted parents, has vowed never to love or need anyone. It seems only fitting that she, an outsider, accept Ezra’s demand in trade for the fuel technology her clan needs—but her deep, unexpected need for him is the torture she’s fought all her life to avoid. Worse, the greater her wrath, the more he seems to like it.

Ezra’s mercenary half delights at having the warrior woman in his arms. His scientist half can’t resist the urge to see what makes her react—and what makes her explode.

The real experiment: if the bond they forge is strong enough to make her want to stay.

Note: This story was previously published.

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He loved watching her work.

On the battlefield, with a sword in her hand, she was intense, fierce. A dangerous adversary that kept her skills sharpened to a fine edge. Many liked to test their strength against hers, and more often than not, they fell before her. At the Rites, it was for practice, as the feuds would resume once the month had passed. No one wanted to let his or her swordsmanship slip. To do so could mean disaster for a clan. Kadira pushed herself harder than most, and Ezra loved the way her slender body moved, as graceful as any dance, and twice as deadly.

But now, when she set aside her blade and plied her other trade, he could gaze on her with the unguarded zeal of everyone else who gather about the large, woven mat upon which a young woman lay, receiving her mark of adulthood that would allow her to participate in the Rites.

It wasn't the girl that interested him. It was Kadira. Always Kadira.

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The crescent moon engraved between the dark wings of her eyebrows marked her as a kabu shaman, a master in the sacred art of tattooing. Unusual for a woman to choose to train as a shaman--but, then, women were unusual, outnumbered five to one, even among the Wanderers, and it was worse in the cities. Kadira leaned closer to the girl's arm. Ezra had never seen her face so unguarded, so serene. She'd lost herself in the kabu ritual, the god and goddess moving through her and her tools to shape the designs she carved into the flesh. It was beautiful to watch. She was beautiful to watch.

Her waist-length ebony hair was separated into dozens of slender braids, the top half pulled away from her face so she could work for hours without the desert wind blowing the plaits in her eyes. Amulets and beads hung from her neck, etched with blessed symbols. A black leather band covered her breasts and a loincloth stretched around her narrow hips. Rich white pelts dangled from her belt, concealing pouches that held her shamanic tools. Her legs were bare to the knee, where boots encased them like a second skin.

He'd wanted those long legs wrapped around his waist for years now.

An apprentice held the skin taut while Kadira dipped a serrated chisel attached to the end of a stick into a jar of black ink. She pressed the blade to the girl's skin and used another stick to tap the chisel and ink into the flesh. The rapid sound of wood smacking against wood was hypnotic, and more Wanderers gathered, entranced, to observe the kabu ritual performed.

Kadira pulled in a deep breath, her breasts threatening to spill from the leather containing them. Biting back a groan, Ezra was unsurprised by his body's reaction, his cock hardening to a painful degree. Always it was so with her, but she had never allowed him to touch her, even in the orgiastic indulgence of Spring and Fall Rites. Not once. It made him burn with frustration. He knew she was aware of him, had seen the keenness of her interest the night before. The lust shimmering in those midnight eyes had nearly driven him passed his endurance. He'd beckoned to her before he'd recalled her vows required a time of sexual purification. Only that recollection had kept him away from her. He wanted to take, to claim.

This Rite, he would have her. In any way he could. She would be his and his alone. A shudder rippled through him as the thought made his cock throb. Yes. He refused to hold back any longer, refused to wait. Why he'd delayed this long, he didn't know, but the time had come for action.

Soon he would have that graceful body beneath him. Soon he'd sheath his cock in her tight, wet pussy. Soon he'd taste the sweetness of her juices, hear her scream his name as he made her come for him. Soon he'd have all that wildness in his arms.

Soon.

COLLAPSE
Crystal Jordan, Loribelle Hunt

Romance among weres is never simple.

Secret Passions by Loribelle Hunt

When the discovery of human/animal DNA makes werefox Sara Beth Reynard a tabloid’s lead story, she laughs the whole thing off…until some goon attempts to kidnap her. As a result, she is sent to the wereeagles for her own protection, but she’s not happy about it.

Wereeagle Patrick Aquila takes one look at Sara Beth and wants to peel away her layers. Yet one night of exploding passion pits him in a race against time. Time to convince Sara Beth they belong together, and to find the snitch who is feeding information to her stalkers.

Illicit Passions by Crystal Jordan

As a pretty swan-shifter, Tori Haida was born a stereotype, and has spent a lifetime living it down.

Wolf-shifter Bastian Lykaios is just the kind of dominant male who drives her the wrong kind of crazy. And yet, Tori can’t help wanting him.

Unfortunately, there’s no time to indulge an affair—not while a werekind traitor is leaking information to the human press. But when Tori is kidnapped, Bastian’s is willing to go to all lengths—including betraying his own kind—to get her back.

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Secret Passions by Loribelle Hunt

Someone had to die, but she couldn’t decide who should go first. The list was growing. Some asshole had attacked her. Her father and Michael had insisted she come here. And now Patrick, the grown-up teenage crush from Hell, was…she wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t exactly flirting, was he? But he seemed to be trying to engage her on a personal level she knew she shouldn’t allow. If he wanted to hop into bed, she was so there. But she wasn’t about to get emotionally involved with an adrenaline-junkie eagle.

On second thought, sex was probably a bad idea. She might not be able to protect her heart if he touched her, if she gave in to the desire to feel him over her—moving in her. It would probably be a colossal mistake.

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She was a fox, for crissakes. She did home and hearth and she did it damned well, thank you very much. She wanted comfort and warmth and a man who was devoted to her because of it. Patrick would never be that man, which was a cryin’ shame, but as her favorite aunt always said, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”

The hell of it was Patrick was the only man who’d ever tempted her wild side. He hadn’t noticed her since the day he’d gone off to college, three years before her. She hadn’t been as blind. And this was who she got stuck with as a bodyguard? Hell with that. Two days tops and she was going home. She’d hire someone if she had to. There were plenty of werewolves in the personal protection business.

Actually, if she’d been thinking straight, that would have occurred to her earlier. She was an idiot and irritated with herself so she might have been a bit testy when she asked about sleeping arrangements. It all went downhill from there.

“Where is the guest room?”

“There’s only one bedroom in the house,” he said. “We’ll be sharing.”

Oh no. She might think about trying him on for size, but she knew the danger to her heart. “I’ll take the couch.”

“The hell you will,” he snapped.

“Does that mean you will?” she asked, sweetly even though she could tell by his scent and expression he intended to sleep with her. More than sleep. His arousal was rich and masculine. Seductive.

“You’re pushing it, foxy.”

“Don’t call me that,” she bit out. Gods, she hated that nickname. “Frankly, it’s insulting. You called me that when I was an unattractive kid you wanted to get rid of. It isn’t getting you anywhere now, I promise.”

She just wanted to go home. For some reason, her ego was more bruised now than right after the attempted kidnapping. It took every ounce of her control not to respond when he stepped closer and stroked his hands up her arms.

“You were beautiful. Why do you think I called you that? So sensual, so sexy and so damned young,” he whispered. “You scared me. You made me feel things I wasn’t supposed to feel. You were too young for me then.”

She wrenched out of his grasp and knew her smile was saccharine sweet, totally fake. “I’m still too young for you. You can take the couch.”

She tried to stalk away before he could protest, but she wasn’t fast enough. He stopped the bedroom door from shutting with ease, slapping his palm against it as she tried to push it closed. There was no way she could compete with his strength and she didn’t see the point in embarrassing herself by trying. She set her hands on her hips and used the look her brothers called the death glare. Unfortunately, it didn’t have much effect on a tall, well-built wereeagle. And why the hell were eagles so damned tall when she was cursed with shortness?

“What’s that look for?” His expression may have been calm, but she was pleased to hear the exasperation in his tone.

“Do you have to keep looming over me?” She waved her hands in a shooing motion. The sun had set hours ago. She just wanted to change and curl up in bed. “Go away. It’s been one annoying thing after the other today and you’re making it worse.”

He arched an eyebrow, pale blond and as perfectly sculpted as the rest of him. His hair was pulled back, but she guessed it was about shoulder length loose. And those eyes…bright, shocking blue. He was tall, his body roped with muscles she wanted to explore. He was disgustingly good-looking and if he got serious about seducing her she knew her resistance would turn to dust with the slightest effort on his part. It wasn’t fair, was it?

“First of all, I don’t loom,” he said. “Second, I am not leaving you alone.”

She wanted to scream. Or throw something at him. “Why am I with you anyway? You’re Ajax’s senior advisor. Bodyguard duty isn’t exactly in your job description, is it?”

“No one else can keep you as safe as I can,” he said, arrogant and haughty.

“Wow. Does that hurt?”

He looked confused. “What?”

“Carrying around a head swelled that big.”

At first he looked stunned. She doubted anyone ever gave him grief over anything. Then he stunned her. He laughed, deep and full, totally genuine. When he reached for her, it didn’t occur to her to dodge. He held her close with one hand on her ass and the other on the back of her head. As she became aware of every hard inch of his body, he fell silent.

“You are something else, baby,” he whispered.
His eyes darkened to a stormy blue, the skin around them pinched tight as if he was under a great strain. His head lowered, his lips moving closer to hers slowly enough she could turn her head and struggle free. If she’d had an ounce of self-preservation, that was exactly what she’d have done. She had more curiosity, though. She’d imagined what his kisses would be like, and even though she had no knowledge, she’d compared the kisses of other men to her fantasy. Now was her chance to find out.

Illicit Passions by Crystal Jordan

Tori glanced up as two tall men entered the lobby of the Leonidas headquarters. She had to blink a couple of times to clear her blurry vision. Four days with no smoking and she was on a killer jag of insomnia. Swan-shifter or not, her bosses were walking softly and watching her with wary gazes. Part of her was amused by that, but mostly she just wanted some sleep and the constant headache to go away. Or a cigarette. That would work too.

Sighing, she rose from her chair to greet the newcomers. One, she knew. Nico Leonidas. The other she hadn’t met before, but she knew he was the wolf Beta. He was turned to the side to speak to Nico, so she could only see him in profile, but she took a moment to look him over. Even from this distance, she could tell he was incredibly attractive. Broad shoulders that tapered down to a lean waist and sculpted ass. Long, muscular legs his pants did nothing to hide. He had the same inky black hair as Lyra, and while the cast of his features declared them family, his face was more angular. High cheekbones, square jaw. Mmm-hmm, he was a pretty piece of man-candy.

But when he turned and their eyes met, it was like a spark of electricity zinged over her nerve endings. Her breath seized in her lungs, and a shiver of pure sexual awareness caught her in its grip. Liquid heat sluiced through her body and settled in her sex. Some instinct she didn’t understand roared to life and she wanted so badly it weakened her knees. His gray eyes burned to silver and he took a step toward her. A wicked, knowing smile curled his lips, as if he understood exactly what kind of affect he had on her. There was a touch of arrogance to his expression, as if he’d seen what he wanted and knew it would be his.

Get a grip, Tori. She shook herself, straightened her spine and stiffened her knees.

Yes, he was attractive and it was clear he knew it. Unfortunately, he also had that alpha male swagger that said he owned the world and had no problem telling people what to do. So not her type. All four of the Leonidases had that same attitude. Five, if she counted their father, Hector. Actually, Hector was the worst of the bunch and Tori hadn’t particularly liked him the few times they’d met. She’d mostly wanted to put a boot up his domineering ass.

She was also fairly certain her intolerance of he-man bullcrap was why Lyra had decided it would be good for Adrian and Jason to have Tori as an assistant. The thought made her grin.

Uh-oh. The wolf Beta’s gaze sharpened on her the way men’s did when they noticed she was more than simply pretty—she was drop-dead gorgeous. Her smile did that. Unlike most men, he didn’t melt into a puddle of testosterone at her feet. She liked that and wasn’t sure she should. His grin turned easy and charming and it annoyed her that her belly did a quivery little flip.

“Hello,” he said, the slow Southern drawl making the word sound like it was dipped in honey. “I’m Bastian Lykaios.”

He held out his hand to shake and she hesitated while deciding if she really wanted to touch him. That would confirm a chemistry she wasn’t sure she was in the mood to acknowledge. His eyes narrowed at her show of resistance, and a non-alpha male would have dropped his hand. Instead, he arched an eyebrow and waited her out.

It was the expression on his face, daring her to take his hand, that did her in. She’d never been one to back down from a challenge.

“Tori Haida.” Thrusting her arm out, she wrapped her fingers around his broad palm. His grin spread and she got a flash of wolfish fangs. Oh, yeah. Chemistry out the wazoo. The slight calluses on his hand rasped against her skin, made a shudder pass through her. Her nipples tightened and her sex clenched. He tugged her closer, and his scent hit her. Hot male spiced with a light cologne. His thumb swept over the inside of her wrist, and her pulse leapt in response. His touch left sweet little tingles in its wake, and she had to yank her arm back before she did something really embarrassing. Like jump him. Or start panting.

Someone cleared their throat, and they jerked apart. She turned to see all four Leonidas brothers and three of their wives standing there staring at them. Jason coughed. “I see you’ve met our administrative assistant.”

“Ah. Yes.” Bastian shook himself, didn’t even glance at her. “I’ll take some coffee, Ms. Haida. Black.”

Really? That was how he covered the overly intimate moment they’d just shared? By treating her like a servant? She resisted the urge to stomp her heel into his toes.

“Well, it’s over there.” She pointed to the fancy espresso machine on the credenza. “Help yourself.”

He frowned. Oh, he didn’t like it that she had no intention of waiting on him? Too damn bad. If she didn’t do it for her bosses, she sure as hell wouldn’t do it for him. She didn’t care how good he looked and felt, she wasn’t going to roll over and play doormat for him.

Just to piss him off, she faced Nico and gave him a little curtsey. “Prince Consort. I’m honored by your presence.”

He didn’t crack a smile, but amusement glittered in his gaze. He inclined his torso ever so slightly in a bow. “Ms. Haida.”

“May I get you anything? Coffee? Soda?” She widened her eyes as if eager to do his bidding. Luckily, he wasn’t stupid enough to take her up on the offer.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.”

Jason snorted, Adrian rolled his eyes and Bastian’s frown turned into a scowl. He drew in a deep breath as if scenting the air. Then he asked, “What kind of bird-shifter are you?”

“Swan.” The word shot out of her mouth like a bullet, and she waited for the smirk she often saw when men realized the too-pretty woman turned into an equally pretty bird.

Fortunately, the man had two brain cells to rub together and kept his face neutral. “I see.”

An awkward beat of silence passed before Adrian spoke. “Uh, Tori…there was a conference call on my calendar—”

“Already handled. I rescheduled to Monday afternoon, with an apology.” Tori slipped behind her desk and resumed her seat. She looked at Jason. “There’s also a cougar-shifter who’s been trying to get through to you for days—a border dispute between two groups of mountain lions—but I’m fending her off. You’re welcome.”

He nodded. “We’ll probably have to do some mediating there, but not today.”

“I’ll pencil them in for late next week. You’ll want to speak to both sides, of course.” She tapped a few notes into her computer, ignoring everyone as they exchanged greetings and congregated around the espresso machine. There was a tension in the air that she pretended didn’t exist. Important things could happen today, and that was one of the reasons she liked this job. She could help make a difference in the shifter world, but this wasn’t what she planned on doing forever.

Maybe that was why she’d suddenly decided to give up the cigarettes. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known they were bad for her before she’d ever touched one. Some instinct that demanded change had twitched to life within her a few weeks back. Even the healthy routine she’d started hadn’t made that instinct quit nagging at the back of her mind. It had eased, but hadn’t stopped. Something else needed to change. Maybe her career? She’d come to Refuge Resort on a vacation after she’d graduated college five years ago and had just…never left. She wasn’t exactly using her degree in industrial design as a secretary. But other than working on her classic cars, she didn’t have a particular direction she wanted to pursue. She didn’t have a real passion for anything except hotrods. Probably not a good idea to make any sudden changes there, but she would look into her options. At the moment, anything could hit the chopping block until this instinct stopped prodding. It was beyond irritating and it just made the jonesing for cigarettes even worse.

“Tori?”

She looked up, meeting Lyra’s gaze. “Yeah?”

The she-wolf set a hand on Tori’s desk, leaning in a bit. “You okay? My cousin didn’t—”

“He’s fine.” She picked up a pencil and twirled it between her fingers. “I’m having the resort’s restaurant deliver lunch for you guys. Should be here shortly.”

“You’ll be having some too.” It wasn’t a question.

Tori grinned. “Of course. Though I think it’s best I not actually join you. I’ll eat at my desk.” She got up and made shooing motions with her hands, herding them all into the conference room. “Go on, get some good politicking in.”

The Leonidas family was used to both her managing them and generally displaying nothing like the submissive personality one would expect of a woman of her species and with her job title.

Everyone but Bastian went where she told them with a minimum of grumbling. He stared at her as if he had no idea what to make of her. Good. She hated fitting neatly into anyone’s pigeonhole.

She arched an eyebrow. “You’re going to miss your own meeting if you don’t get a move on.”

Something devilish flickered to life in his gray gaze, as if he wanted to call her on bossing people around, but he refrained from commenting. Anticipation shimmered within her, and she would have loved to hear whatever he was thinking. He sauntered slowly into the conference room. “I’ll see you later, Ms. Haida.”

The heavy promise in his voice made her insides clench with a need she couldn’t decide if she wanted to ignore or pursue. Not that she was going to tell him she was considering tracking him down after work tonight. Arrogant alpha male or not, attraction like this could be explosively fun. For a night or two, anyway. He definitely wasn’t the type she’d keep around long. And he was headed home soon, which made pursuing the attraction even more appealing. He couldn’t expect more than she wanted to give if he was gone.

“Later? You wish.” She grasped the handle to close the door in his face, noting the way his eyes narrowed. After there was a solid slab of oak between them, she let herself chuckle.

Tweaking that wolf’s tail was the most fun she’d had since she quit smoking.

COLLAPSE