Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance

Crystal Jordan

Walk on the Wild Side of Romance
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

In a hunt for love, who’s the predator and who’s the prey?

Tori Haida was born a stereotype—a pretty swan shifter—and has spent a lifetime living it down with an in-your-face attitude and a zero-tolerance policy for stupidity. Which makes her attraction to the werewolf Alpha’s heir more than a tad inconvenient.

Bastian Lykaios is just the kind of dominant male who drives her crazy, and not in a good way. And yet, she can’t help wanting him in the worst way.

The moment he arrives at the Refuge Resort, Bastian is in lust. The were-leopards’ administrative assistant is a study in contrasts: a cheerleader-perky blonde with a body built for sin, the mouth of a sailor, and a lead foot for her classic car.

Unfortunately, there’s no time to indulge in an affair, not while a werekind traitor is leaking information to the human press. But when Tori is kidnapped by a pair of scientists to use as a live specimen, Bastian’s plan for damage control turns into a rescue mission. One where all means of rescue are on the table—including betraying his own kind.

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“I need a cigarette.” Tori clutched the cup of coffee the waitress had just dropped off. She'd been feeding her caffeine habit to try to ignore her nicotine habit, but it just left her shaking, jittery, and even more irritated. “Seriously, I'd give you my first-born child for just one puff right now.”

“You don't have any children yet, and those cancer sticks will kill you, werekind or not. Have you tried the nicotine gum I recommended?” Lyra offered up her best concerned physician look and Tori wanted to lunge across the breakfast table at her.

Yes, she was feeling totally reasonable and rational today.

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Of course, since she was a swan-shifter and Lyra was a wolf-shifter, Tori was pretty sure she'd get her ass handed to her if she tried it, concerned physician or no. But on the other hand, it might take her mind off the fact that she really, really needed a fucking cigarette. She eyed her closest friend. She's taken on a predator shifter before and won. It could be worth it, just for the distraction factor.

Lyra smirked, flashing a bit of wolf canine in the process. “Don't take your violent urges out on me, birdie. No one's forcing you to quit if you don't want to.”

“I know, I know,” Tori moaned. “But it is bad for me and--”

“Is she still whining about the smokes?” asked a feminine voice behind her. Lyra's cousin, Celeste, came sauntering up and parked herself across from Tori. Celeste was married to one of Tori's bosses, but somehow it had never felt awkward to be friends.

The waitress brought Celeste a cup of tea without asking, but Tori winced at the noise of people talking and silverware clinking. Everything seemed to scrape over her too-sensitive nerves today.

They sat at a table in the restaurant at Refuge Resort--an exclusive getaway for shifters of all kinds--where Lyra ran the local werekind clinic. Her husband, Zander Leonidas, ran the resort. It was a rare patch of neutral territory in the often-contentious world of shifter clans. The resort also served as the headquarters for the Leonidas family businesses, which was where Tori worked. She'd spent the last five years as the administrative assistant to Jason and Adrian Leonidas, Zander's older brothers. The Leonidases also happened to be the rulers of the leopard shifter clan--and by extension, all feline shifter species in America. Adrian handled the business end of things, Jason ruled the clan, and Tori got to juggle their calendars and make sure their lives ran smoothly.

Lyra nodded to Celeste. “Yep, we might even get to witness a full-on meltdown from the beauty queen today.”

Beauty queen. Tori hated that label. She owned a mirror, so she knew she was prettier than the average woman. Okay, gorgeous, stunning, knock-out. She'd been called all those things. She also had a body that made men drool. God help her if she ever dared to put on a bikini. Her platinum blonde hair and Miss-America-pageant-contestant looks made people assume she was all perky sweetness and light…and a bimbo, too. Not that she wouldn't sleep with a guy on the first date if the chemistry were there, but she didn't indiscriminately drop her panties for anyone. Fuck the bullshit stereotypes. She bit back the urge to spit those words at her friend. The cigarette detox was making her overreact. Her fingers clenched around the ceramic of her cup and she told herself to chill out.

“Ooh, interesting. Maybe I'll get pictures and do an interview for a story on kicking the habit.” Celeste's eyes gleamed with journalistic interest. She was a freelance reporter who wrote for both human and werekind publications. “Imagine the raging addict video on YouTube. We'd go viral in seconds.”

“You guys are hilarious.” It took everything Tori had to hold back the swan-like hiss that wanted to erupt from her throat. She could feel her wings rippling just below the surface of her skin, and she wanted to shift into her bird form to fly far and fast from the craving that hounded her. Unfortunately, she couldn't escape herself. “I feel like utter shit. Like soggy, lukewarm, day-old shit.”

“Wow, that's appetizing.” Celeste put down the menu she'd just picked up.

Lyra waved her cousin away and addressed Tori. “Are you using the nicotine patch? It'll help.”

“With what? Is it supposed to do anything other than feel weird and piss me off even more? At this point, I'm going to put some tobacco in it, roll it and smoke it.” Tori took a sip of her coffee, but it didn't stop the desperate need clawing through her.

Her foot bounced against the floor, and she sat there amongst friends feeling like she wasn't even herself anymore. The smoking hadn't been a big deal, she'd thought, but suddenly it was all she could think about, all she could focus on. She'd been scattered at work the last three days she'd been off the nicotine, had a sore throat and her skull hadn't stopped pounding in a headache for three. Damn. Days. She was also mood swinging like she'd slammed into full-blown menopause. At twenty seven years old. Awesome. Why did she want to quit again? Oh, yeah. Because it was healthy.

“Hey, did you guys see this?” Another friend, Cleo, strode up waving her tablet computer. “This has PR nightmare written all over it.”

That didn't sound good. As the public relations officer for the resort, Cleo probably had a pretty good instinct for what might become a problem.

“What?” Lyra asked.

Cleo flipped her tablet around to show them the top headline on a newspaper website.

Scientists Claim Human-Animal Hybrids Exist, Fired From MIT

Tori felt her eyes bulge. Just what she needed today. Drama in the werekind world. “Oh, fuck me sideways with a hockey stick.”

Snorting, Lyra cast a sideways glance at her. “Well, that says it all, doesn't it?”

“Damn, he made the Times.” Celeste sighed. “It's that reporter again--Jeff Nichols--the one who won't let the shifter thing go. I've tried to bury him, but his articles keep getting better and better exposure. But the Times? Crap.”

“Adrian believes Nichols has an inside source helping him. A shifter selling out other shifters.” A growl rumbled up in Cleo throat--the lioness within her showing through. She glanced at Celeste and Lyra. “What do your husbands think?”

With the exception of Tori, all the women at the table were married to a Leonidas brother. Cleo was a feline, so no one had questioned her mating, but the other two had had a rough time during their courtships. Celeste was a human, but she was the werewolf Alpha's stepdaughter. And wolves and leopards didn't mix. At all. It had been majorly controversial when Celeste had mated with the Leonidas heir, but it had blown people's minds when Lyra--an actual wolf-shifter--had married a leopard. Her father had disowned her for it.

Tori was just happy that, as a bird, she was neutral in all those disputes. Werebirds were ferocious in their neutrality. No one dragged them into clan wars. She'd take her eagle queen over these alpha males any day. Then again, the queen had married a Leonidas too. Nico--probably the scariest, most feral of the four brothers. Tori would love to see that particular cat caught in an eagle's nest, but she hadn't made it out to werebird territory in years.

Lyra's cup thumped loudly against the wooden tabletop, jolting Tori back to the unfortunate present. The she-wolf tossed her long black hair over her shoulder. “Zander agrees with Adrian. I think they've been talking about how to deal with this information leak.”

“Jason's had a few phone calls with Nico about it, too.” Celeste leaned forward, dropping her voice. Not that anyone was close enough to overhear, but it paid to be cautious. “I'm recommending that we finally reach out to my family and see if the wolf clan has any intel on this. The Lykaioses have a different network of allies than the leopards or eagles.”

“Uncle Michael has been saying for years that our exposure is inevitable,” Lyra pointed out. “He's not going to help.”

Celeste shook her head, stress pinching the corners of her mouth. “I'm not thinking the Alpha. I'm thinking we go with his second-in-command. My oldest brother is more reasonable than my dad.”

“Bastian can also be a dogmatic, hardheaded pain in the ass.” Lyra ran a finger around the rim of her mug, her forehead furrowed in thought. “We'd be asking him to go against his Alpha. I'm not sure he's ever done that before.”

“I know he hasn't, even when he really should have.” Old bitterness flashed in Celeste's gaze, but her mouth firmed into a stubborn line. “Still, it's worth a shot. Bastian is our best bet for help from the wolves. My husband, my nieces and nephews, my whole family are in danger if word gets out about the werekind, so I'm not standing around and doing nothing. I want to know who this inside source is, and I want him or her stopped.”

Not just an inside source, but a powerful one if they were managing to bypass Celeste's efforts to discredit this guy. Tori's stomach churned for reasons that had nothing to do with nicotine withdrawal. The existence of shifters being revealed to the general population would be a majorly huge clusterfuck. She hated to think that anyone would be helping a human expose them, but the article claimed these scientists had blood and tissue samples. Where the hell would they get those, if not from a shifter?

This went way, way beyond a PR nightmare.

“I need a cigarette.”

COLLAPSE
Crystal Jordan, Loribelle Hunt

Love is the most dangerous game of all…

Stolen Passions by Crystal Jordan

Lyra Marcus is a werewolf left for dead in enemy territory, but she's not going down without a fight. Leopard-shifter Zander Leonidas wants the little she-wolf the moment he sees her--he'll keep her safe no matter what it takes. In fact, he'll just keep her, period.

Passions Recalled by Loribelle Hunt

Celeste Lykaios is a dead woman. At least that's what her mate, Jason Leonidas, was told after a plane crash no one walked away from. When she shows up a year later, alive and well, he vows to protect her from all comers…a hurricane, a killer, and the werewolf family that kept them apart.

Fleeting Passions by Crystal Jordan

Cleo Nemean is a lioness on the run from an abusive ex, and she takes a job with the Leonidas family hoping for protection. A night spent toasting her newfound freedom lands her in bed with Adrian Leonidas--her new boss, and her new accidental mate. But then her ex tracks her down…

Renegade Passions by Loribelle Hunt

Ajax Petros is leader of the eagle's elite Messenger Corps, heir to the throne, and not ready to settle down. But when Nico Leonidas enters her territory searching for answers about the plane crash that killed his father everything changes.

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Hector stood off to the side, holding the kind of glass his mate had always liked-delicate and fragile-incongruent in his big beefy hands. He flexed one fist, watching the movement, wondering what she would have thought of this gathering.

He looked around. She would have loved it.

All their sons, all their mated sons, were here to celebrate Adrian's wedding to Cleo, a werelioness. Interesting woman, Cleo. A fine match for Adrian.

He counted the rest of them.

Celeste and Jason, finally come home. He stood tall and relaxed, though he never let her move from the shelter of his arm.

There were Ajax and Nico. The werebird Queen and his third son, more besotted than he ever expected to see any of his sons.

And finally Lyra and Zander. The wolf. The hugely pregnant wolf. She approached him, Zander's gaze following her closely even while holding a conversation with Adrian.

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“Having a good time?” she asked, sipping a glass of water.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Ajax excuse herself and leave Nico with Adrian and Zander. She stepped forward with that regal, smooth glide he was growing accustomed to, linking her arm through Lyra's.

The women faced him together. A united front. The two predators, by more than virtue of species, mated to his sons. Neither of these two women were ever going to be controlled, be handled. He admired their gumption if nothing else and grinned, not caring if it was just this side of feral. They could deal with the sometimes murky politics of a predator shifter's family.

Both narrowed their eyes at the look, both did that little subtle shifting of stance that warriors did when preparing for battle. Oh, yes. Worthy women. And if the future brought what he suspected it would for all shifter species, if that dark cloud looming on the horizon came to pass, they would need to be. But he wouldn't dwell on that today. Today he'd enjoy being in the presence of his family, ignoring the ever-present pang of grief and guilt caused by the one who refused to be with them. Another secret he'd kept from his sons, another lie he'd told. For their own good, or for his? He didn't know anymore. He shook his head. There would be time enough for that later.

He saluted Lyra with his glass. “To the next generation of Leonidas leopards.”

She cocked an eyebrow and took a drink from her glass. “What makes you so sure they'll be leopards?”

He choked on his wine, and Ajax hit him just a little too hard on the back while he coughed. He knew by the look in her eyes she was aware of what she was doing and took enjoyment in it. Ignoring her, he focused on his youngest son's mate.

“Of course they'll be cats. Dominant DNA and all that.”

He waved a hand through the air knowing he shouldn't have to explain it to a doctor. At least he thought not. Ajax and Lyra exchanged a long, knowing look and both burst out laughing. He glared. They'd probably both refuse to have leopards just to spite him.

The others approached. Celeste with her gentle smile, Cleo trying not to show her hyper-awareness of all the strangers in her house. His boys. Tall, strong. Good. With everyone gathered around it was time to get down to business.

He looked at his oldest, Jason. His pride and joy, the one who'd broken when he thought his mate had died. This was his chance at redemption. “Have you decided?”

Jason pulled Celeste to him, wrapped his arms around her waist. Slowly he nodded while holding Hector's gaze. “I'll come home and take my place as CEO again. And look after security since Nico's taking up with the birds.”

There was an audible sigh of relief through the group, but it seemed to be most heartfelt from Adrian. The boy had taken on an unusually hard task when Jason had left. One he hadn't been trained or prepared for, but he'd done well. Hector allowed himself a small bit of pride. He'd been hard on his boys, but they'd grown up strong, smart.

There was one other matter to settle and he kept close watch on Ajax with gleeful anticipation when he delivered it. They'd been butting heads for weeks, he and his newest daughter-in-law. He knew she'd flown to Arizona expecting to leave him behind when she returned home. Little did she know.

“Adrian, I don't care how you and Jason work it out, but you two are in charge. I'm retiring officially and going back to Tennessee with Nico and Ajax.”

Ajax was speechless for only a moment. “Absolutely not!”

“I'm afraid my mind is made up, dear.”

She narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. “Listen, cat, I've had enough of you. It's someone else's turn.”

His other daughters-in-law were all quick to jump in to support his choice. If he didn't find the whole thing so amusing, he would have been insulted. The boys, he noticed, were all suspiciously quiet. That was fine too. He was happy just to see them together, everyone speaking to each other. Life was good again.

Smiling, he slipped away, leaving all his children to squabble amongst themselves, to find a quiet place to watch the sun set.

COLLAPSE

Love is the only thing she can’t escape…

Ecstatic that she's found a place to hide—and a job—at Refuge Resort, Cleo Nemean toasts her escape a few too many times and ends up having a one-night stand with a seriously hot leopard shifter. The catch? It's Adrian Leonidas, her new boss…and they accidentally mark each other as mates.

Nothing could be worse than losing her hard-won freedom. Until her werebear ex, Trevor, tracks her down. His obsession has already cost one life. Determined to never again be the cause of another death—especially Adrian's—she flees the safety of the refuge. And her new mate’s protection.

Only Cleo has ever caused Adrian to lose his formidable control. Accidental or not, the lovely lion shifter is now his woman. He’s not about to let anything harm her before they've explored the undeniable heat between them. There's only one way to eliminate the threat to her life: use her as bait to lure Trevor into a trap.

When the trap is sprung too soon, however, there's no time to wonder if whoever tipped Trevor off is tied to his father's disappearance. Not when there’s a gun pointed at Cleo's head…

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Adrian's eyes creaked open in the harsh morning sunlight. A naked woman stood frozen at the end of his bed, her eyes held a hint of panic as her gaze darted between him, his ringing cell phone, and the door. She was obviously trying to sneak out, her clothes in her arms. He dragged in a breath, trying to catch her scent, trying to remember what she might be doing in his bedroom. His nostrils flooded with the smell of her and him and sex. Memories flooded his mind from the night before.

Jesus, he hadn't--

He wouldn't have--

His gaze dropped to her collarbone as his hand lifted to his shoulder. An electric shock passed straight from the mark on his skin to his cock.

“Shit.”

Her amber eyes widened as she followed his movement. Her hands fumbled her clothes, and she stroked her fingers over her collarbone. He groaned low, possession gripping his gut at the sight of his mark on her creamy flesh. His mate mark.

“Shit,” she breathed.

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This woman, this stranger, was now his mate. The thought rocketed through him, hitting him with the subtle force of a sledgehammer. How had he let this happen? He was a man who controlled everyone and everything, especially himself and his women. His finger pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to make what his instincts told him fit with what his mind knew.

“Who the hell are you?” His anger was more directed at himself than her, but her flinch told him she'd taken his tone as a direct hit. He bit back another curse.

He'd let a situation slip from his control. And he'd seen in his older brother Jason what that kind of weakness, what letting a woman get under his skin, could do to a man. How the hell had this happened? And with a stranger.

Her face looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. She wasn't a guest. Of that he was certain, so how did he know her?

She swallowed and straightened. Her clothes shifted as she did, and he got a peek at one rosy nipple before she covered herself once more. A damn shame. He wanted to see more. And his body clamored an immediate agreement, his cock rising.

He had the distinct memory of what her skin tasted like on his tongue, and he craved more. A bone deep addiction.

“Cleo Nemean.”

He knew that name. He wracked his fogging brain, waiting for the synapses to connect in coherent thought.

Damn, but he needed coffee. And about ten aspirin. It had been a long time since he'd had so much to drink. He'd already had one too many by the time he'd seen her across the bar and approached her. He'd offered to buy her a drink and one had turned into . . . a lot. The rest was an alcohol soaked blur.

He narrowed his eyes on her face. Wide amber eyes dominated a face framed in a smooth mane of golden waves. She wasn't stunning or even beautiful, but something about her drew him to her. Her look was quiet, coolly enchanting. But it was her eyes that caught him. Haunted, pained, secretive. The whole package made him want to explore what was hidden from first glance.

She wouldn't be here unless she was werekind or mated to werekind. He winced. Well, now she was mated to werekind, and the prick of her fangs in his shoulder made her a shifter of some kind. “You're a . . .”

Blinking, she tilted her head to the side. Confusion filtered through her gaze for a moment before she grinned. “Lion.”

The smile kicked him in the gut hard. God, she was lovely. And his.

He swallowed. What should a man say to his mate?

Hell if he knew.

He jerked a thumb at his chest. “Leopard.”

The grin bloomed into a charming smile. “I know, Mr. Leonidas.”

That was it. He knew her now. He groaned, and the sound made hammers pound in his head.

What the hell had he done? He'd gone and mated with an employee. As the CEO of all Leonidas business interests and ruler of the leopard species--among others--he kept strict non-fraternization standards for himself with the staff and guests. Dalliances with either type of woman was a bad idea. He blew out a long breath. “The new head of PR.”

“Yes, sir.” Her spine snapped straight.

He'd been away on business for the week she'd been here. Zander had called to let him know she arrived, but that's all he knew. Damn it. How had he let it go so far last night? It wasn't like him.

“I'll just . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she tilted her head toward the bedroom door. She turned as though to make good her escape, and rage flowed through his veins. Possession unlike he'd ever known fisted in his belly.

His mate.

He wanted her back in bed with him, wanted to memorize every detail of her lush body, wanted it with a fierceness he'd never known before.

Mate.

Everything in him screamed for her, this woman he knew nothing of. Lust, possession, and . . . something sweeter twisted tight in his chest. He tried to cut it off, to distance himself, to regain control. And failed.

“Wait,” he snapped. His anger was unreasonable. He knew it, but it didn't seem to make a bit of difference in how he reacted.

She wavered in front of him, flinching at his harsh tone. Some emotion he couldn't identify flowed through her amber gaze before a professional mask slipped over her features. “Yes, sir?”

Another wave of anger rolled over him that she could keep her calm when he could not. Damn it. “Adrian. You'll call me Adrian.”

Her chin bobbed down in a quick nod, and a small dart of fear flashed through her eyes. If he hadn't been staring at her so intently, he would have missed it. What was she afraid of? Him? He hadn't made a move toward her.

Was she afraid he'd have Zander fire her? He held back a snort. As if he'd let her go so easily. No matter how little he knew of her, she belonged to him now. His. She'd simply have to get used to it.

Dragging a hand down his face, he rubbed the back of his neck.

What a mess.

COLLAPSE

Adrian's eyes creaked open in the harsh morning sunlight. A naked woman stood frozen at the end of his bed, her eyes held a hint of panic as her gaze darted between him, his ringing cell phone, and the door. She was obviously trying to sneak out, her clothes in her arms. He dragged in a breath, trying to catch her scent, trying to remember what she might be doing in his bedroom. His nostrils flooded with the smell of her and him and sex. Memories flooded his mind from the night before.

Jesus, he hadn't--

He wouldn't have--

His gaze dropped to her collarbone as his hand lifted to his shoulder. An electric shock passed straight from the mark on his skin to his cock.

“Shit.”

Her amber eyes widened as she followed his movement. Her hands fumbled her clothes, and she stroked her fingers over her collarbone. He groaned low, possession gripping his gut at the sight of his mark on her creamy flesh. His mate mark.

“Shit,” she breathed.

This woman, this stranger, was now his mate. The thought rocketed through him, hitting him with the subtle force of a sledgehammer. How had he let this happen? He was a man who controlled everyone and everything, especially himself and his women. His finger pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to make what his instincts told him fit with what his mind knew.

“Who the hell are you?” His anger was more directed at himself than her, but her flinch told him she'd taken his tone as a direct hit. He bit back another curse.

He'd let a situation slip from his control. And he'd seen in his older brother Jason what that kind of weakness, what letting a woman get under his skin, could do to a man. How the hell had this happened? And with a stranger.

Her face looked familiar, but he couldn't place her. She wasn't a guest. Of that he was certain, so how did he know her?

She swallowed and straightened. Her clothes shifted as she did, and he got a peek at one rosy nipple before she covered herself once more. A damn shame. He wanted to see more. And his body clamored an immediate agreement, his cock rising.

He had the distinct memory of what her skin tasted like on his tongue, and he craved more. A bone deep addiction.

“Cleo Nemean.”

He knew that name. He wracked his fogging brain, waiting for the synapses to connect in coherent thought.

Damn, but he needed coffee. And about ten aspirin. It had been a long time since he'd had so much to drink. He'd already had one too many by the time he'd seen her across the bar and approached her. He'd offered to buy her a drink and one had turned into . . . a lot. The rest was an alcohol soaked blur.

He narrowed his eyes on her face. Wide amber eyes dominated a face framed in a smooth mane of golden waves. She wasn't stunning or even beautiful, but something about her drew him to her. Her look was quiet, coolly enchanting. But it was her eyes that caught him. Haunted, pained, secretive. The whole package made him want to explore what was hidden from first glance.

She wouldn't be here unless she was werekind or mated to werekind. He winced. Well, now she was mated to werekind, and the prick of her fangs in his shoulder made her a shifter of some kind. “You're a . . .”

Blinking, she tilted her head to the side. Confusion filtered through her gaze for a moment before she grinned. “Lion.”

The smile kicked him in the gut hard. God, she was lovely. And his.

He swallowed. What should a man say to his mate?

Hell if he knew.

He jerked a thumb at his chest. “Leopard.”

The grin bloomed into a charming smile. “I know, Mr. Leonidas.”

That was it. He knew her now. He groaned, and the sound made hammers pound in his head.

What the hell had he done? He'd gone and mated with an employee. As the CEO of all Leonidas business interests and ruler of the leopard species--among others--he kept strict non-fraternization standards for himself with the staff and guests. Dalliances with either type of woman was a bad idea. He blew out a long breath. “The new head of PR.”

“Yes, sir.” Her spine snapped straight.

He'd been away on business for the week she'd been here. Zander had called to let him know she arrived, but that's all he knew. Damn it. How had he let it go so far last night? It wasn't like him.

“I'll just . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she tilted her head toward the bedroom door. She turned as though to make good her escape, and rage flowed through his veins. Possession unlike he'd ever known fisted in his belly.

His mate.

He wanted her back in bed with him, wanted to memorize every detail of her lush body, wanted it with a fierceness he'd never known before.

Mate.

Everything in him screamed for her, this woman he knew nothing of. Lust, possession, and . . . something sweeter twisted tight in his chest. He tried to cut it off, to distance himself, to regain control. And failed.

“Wait,” he snapped. His anger was unreasonable. He knew it, but it didn't seem to make a bit of difference in how he reacted.

She wavered in front of him, flinching at his harsh tone. Some emotion he couldn't identify flowed through her amber gaze before a professional mask slipped over her features. “Yes, sir?”

Another wave of anger rolled over him that she could keep her calm when he could not. Damn it. “Adrian. You'll call me Adrian.”

Her chin bobbed down in a quick nod, and a small dart of fear flashed through her eyes. If he hadn't been staring at her so intently, he would have missed it. What was she afraid of? Him? He hadn't made a move toward her.

Was she afraid he'd have Zander fire her? He held back a snort. As if he'd let her go so easily. No matter how little he knew of her, she belonged to him now. His. She'd simply have to get used to it.

Dragging a hand down his face, he rubbed the back of his neck.

What a mess.

Enemy mine…

Lyra Marcus tries to avoid her werewolf family’s political entanglements. Instead, she heals the wounds of the never-ending border skirmishes between lycans and wereleopards. It’s a bitter irony that she’s about to die in that war.

When she awakens after an attack, the horror of her situation dawns. She’s a wounded werewolf in the middle of wereleopard territory. And standing over her is a son of its most powerful family, Zander Leonidas. Her fate may be a swift and bloody end, but she intends to go down fighting.

Zander has no plan to fight the little she-wolf who’s landed at his Refuge Resort, a place where shifter species are free to be what they are—except wolves, of course. Yet Lyra fits him in a way she shouldn’t, and the urge to mark her as his mate is irresistible. A match like theirs, though, would rock the foundations of their world.

He intends to find out who left Lyra for dead on Leonidas land. And keep her safe from whoever wants to finish the job—not to mention the werewolf alpha who wants his niece back at any cost…

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It was the heat that woke her.

Something rough rasped against her cheek, and sweat slid in slow beads down her face. It stung her eyes when she opened them to see the blazing sun overhead. Sand. It was sand scraping the skin on her face. From the smell of it, she was in the desert, no longer in the humid air of New Orleans. She was so hot, she felt as if her blood was boiling. Exhaustion sapped at her strength, willing her to return to oblivious slumber, but questions nagged at her, buzzing around like insistent gnats.

Where was she, and how had she gotten here? Why was she outside?

When she tried to lift her head to get a better look at her surroundings, every muscle in her body screamed in protest. Oh, God. She remembered now. She’d been attacked after she’d finished a late shift at the clinic in New Orleans—a clinic just for people like her. Shape-shifters. Wereanimals.

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The last thing she remembered seeing was a gloved fist slamming into her jaw—and it packed the kind of strength behind it that a human couldn’t manage. It had to be another shifter. The physician in her began cataloguing injuries even as the wolf wanted to rip someone’s throat out for doing this to her. Multiple lacerations and contusions, possible fibular fracture and a serious case of dehydration. If she didn’t get to water soon, she was so screwed.

The anger whipping through her made it easier to ignore the shrieking agony that threatened to make her collapse back to the sand. It didn’t matter if it hurt—she was going to die if she stayed here. She wiped sweat and dried blood from her face, pushing her long black hair back over her shoulder.

Lifting her nose to the wind, she inhaled and tried to catch the scent of
civilization…or water, whichever was closer. West. The faintest aroma of people came to her, so she turned in that direction. Her gait was a broken stagger, but she was moving. She stumbled again and again, crashing hard to the ground and scraping skin from her palms and elbows.

A hopeless sob was wrenched from her chest, but she forced herself to get up, to keep going. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to give the son of a bitch who’d done this to her the satisfaction. The wide expanse of rocky desert terrain stretched before her endlessly, broken only by stark mountains rising to the north. Sweat burned the cuts on her face. Gritting her teeth, she pushed on. If she gave in to the pain, she’d never get to see them punished. A grim smile pulled at her cracked lips. Revenge was a great motivator.

When her ankle twisted and gave out from under her, she tumbled down a short ravine, landing on her back. Squinting against the glare of the sun, she saw a large bird pass in front of it. Probably a buzzard coming to pick her bones when she died. Groaning, she braced her hands on the ground and tried to force herself up again, but her arms collapsed, and her head slammed down to the ground. Her ears rang with the force of the impact.

It was almost funny that she, Doctor Lyra Marcus, fastidious to a fault and niece of the most powerful werewolf Alpha in America, was filthy, bloodstained, lying in the dirt and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. A giggle that bordered on hysteria bubbled from her throat. Well, at least she remembered her own name. That was something. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter.

Get a grip, Lyra.

Digging down deeper inside herself than she ever had before, she used the side of the ravine to pull herself upright, to stand, to lean against as she shuffled along again. The farther she walked, the more her thoughts grew fuzzy around the edges, and that wasn’t good. No, not good at all. Eventually the ravine ended, and she staggered out into an arid wasteland. It wouldn’t be much longer before she couldn’t get up if she fell, couldn’t go any further. And then the scavengers would have their turn at her. The thought didn’t scare her as much as she knew it should, and time slid away as she put one foot in front of the other.

She lifted her head as she smelled something worse than death on the wind, and the horror of her predicament finally hit home.

Wereleopard.

The sworn enemy of her kind. She was in the desert, which meant that if she was still in the United States, she was deep into the western territory the cats claimed for their own. A place where no sane wolf would ever go.

She couldn’t see it among the scraggly brush and broken rock, but she knew it was there. The way her wolf senses screeched danger was no lie. She picked up her pace, tried to run, tried to escape. To where, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t being taken in enemy territory without a fight.

And there it was, all tawny fur and dark spots—huge, sleek, and undeniably male. His gaze locked on her as he pursued her at a ground-eating pace, hunting her. She snarled, more the wolf now than woman. Her fangs erupted from her gums, but she didn’t have the energy left to shift into full wolf form. Too weak to defend herself.

Weak, and probably dead before the vultures ever got a piece of her. It was her last thought before she tripped over a sunken boulder, and the ground came rushing up to meet her.

The world went dark, and she knew her life was over.

COLLAPSE