Fire in the Smokies (Durham Wolves) (21 page)

Jaxon’s fingers still lingered on her neck.

“Give me half an hour and then I’m all yours.”

His eyebrows rose along with the smile that spread across his face. “Promise?”

“Would it matter?”

“Not really, but I love it when you’re eager and willing. I always feel a bit guilty when I lure you away from your work with only carnal intentions.”

“Sure you do.” She peeled his hands from her neck and leaned back. “Thirty minutes and then I’m yours.”

Jaxon took her cheeks in both hands and leaned in for a kiss. “I’ll be back,” he mumbled against her mouth. “Half an hour.” His promise lingered in the air as he padded from the room.

Brianna stared at his back. There was no way she was going to be able to study, but she just smiled. Perhaps instead she could use the time to dream up a way to make him burn as much as she was right now…

Keeton McKinney awoke in his apartment with a start and bolted upright before immediately collapsing back onto his bed.

“Motherfucker that hurts.” He gripped his chest where it still ached from the worst wound he’d ever experienced.

He glanced at the clock. It was the middle of the night. How long had he been lying here? Thirteen? Fourteen days? He needed to feed. Every time he awoke he relived that day in his mind.

Once he’d managed to unpin himself from that goddamn iron stake, he’d hobbled deep into the forest and gotten as far away from the cave as possible before slumping onto the ground and resting when he couldn’t go another step.

Then the rain had fallen, large welcome drops drenching him, rinsing away the blood and dirt that had accumulated all over his body. The other benefit of the downpour was to mask his scent. He was much harder to track in a deluge. Of course the wolves were too, but he didn’t have the energy to track a flea after the beating he’d taken.

If he hadn’t been so pissed and sore, he’d have laughed.

The audacity of that wolf to think he could kill Keeton with a rusty metal stake? Ha.

But, damnit, the pain had been intense.

Keeton was even angrier with himself than Jaxon. Why had Keeton been such an easy target? It had seemed so cut and dry when he’d planned and executed this murder. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. It should have occurred to him that Jaxon could shift and escape. You can’t just tie a large wolf up with a knot and expect him to stare at it when all he had to do was shift and untie himself. Even two weeks later he was still kicking himself in the ass for his own stupidity.

It seemed the effort to mask the wolf’s ability to communicate for an extended time at long distances had rendered Keeton’s judgment a bit lax. His focus on his prey had kept him from thinking things through clearly. He would have to work on that before he struck again.

It was wonderful he was able to block telepathy. Perhaps there were other abilities he could tap into of which he was as yet unaware. In which case, he really needed to be able to make sound decisions simultaneously. Unlike that day. The blocking must have drained him and left him vulnerable.

Obviously, judging by Jaxon’s flight from the scene, those wolves had no idea how to kill a vampire. That information would come in very handy in the future. Unless… Keeton had been incoherent for a while before he’d regained consciousness. It could be that Jaxon simply fled for his life, not caring whether or not Keeton was actually dead. Who knew?

Hell, if it hadn’t been for the massive fire in Chicago in the late 1800s, even Keeton himself wouldn’t have known how to kill a vampire. He’d unexpectedly been in the right spot at the right time and that information had changed his life.

There was nothing more to do but wait and regenerate. It would take months for Keeton to be back in full force.

Meanwhile, he would plot. Because those wolves had pissed him off for the last time. Their days were numbered. And he wasn’t going to be nice about it anymore. Their deaths were going to be cruel, ugly and messy.

Keeton tried to relax into the mattress. His chest pounded with the pain of regenerating tissues. He closed his eyes. He needed more sleep. He needed to feed. In that order. And then…he needed a plan.

About the Author

Becca Jameson lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and two kids. When she isn’t writing, she can be found reading, editing, scrapbooking, running, swimming, biking, or taxiing kids all over creation. She doesn’t sleep much…or sit down often…but she loves to be busy! Unlike many other authors, Becca had never written a single word until a few years ago. After enjoying several years on the editing side of the business, Becca decided to give writing a try. Now she can’t stop! And the voices in her head are clamoring to get out faster than she can get them onto “paper”! Still experimenting with both contemporary and paranormal genres, there is no telling what she may come up with next. To learn more about Becca Jameson, visit her blog at
www.beccajameson.com
, email her at
[email protected]
, or tweet her
@beccajameson
.

Look for these titles by Becca Jameson

Now Available:

Durham Wolves

Rescue in the Smokies

Coming Soon:

Freedom in the Smokies

Only one will win the right to call her “mate”.

Rescue in the Smokies

© 2013 Becca Jameson

Durham Wolves, Book 1

Sergius Durham and his brothers are legendary trackers in these parts, and only the local sheriff knows why. They’re wolf shifters, attempting to live quietly on their horse farm. A difficult task when they’re summoned every time a hiker goes missing.

Serg knows there’s something different about his latest case the moment he touches her left-behind clothing. She is his mate, and nothing will stop him from finding and claiming her—except maybe the repeat-offending nuisance of a vampire who lured her off the trail.

Juliana Polanski isn’t sure how she got so lost, but there’s no mistaking her instant attraction to her rescuer. No denying the passion that explodes between them when rain drives them into a cave for shelter—or at his home, in his bed, even after the crazy, improbable truth of his heritage comes out.

Yet Serg knows the danger isn’t over. At any moment Julianna could be kidnapped right out of his arms—by the only creature the Durham brothers have never been able to track.
 

Warning: This book contains hunky shape-shifters living in the mountains, hot steamy sex in caves, mind-blowing oral, mild bondage and wild abandonment in front of mirrors.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Rescue in the Smokies:

A strong whiff of his mate made Sergius lift his head.

She was close. She was also alive. If he could have sighed audibly in wolf form, he would have.

Serg ran. Fear of what he would find made his blood boil.

He pushed through a grove of trees and suddenly she was there, right in front of him, sleeping on a bed of leaves, curled up in a tight ball under a shiny Mylar cover.

He stood for several seconds, staring at her. His chest heaved from the mad dash to find her. He took a deep breath in and held it.

She was slight compared to him. Long, gorgeous, red curls feathered out in every direction, some covering her face.

The urge to lurch forward and nuzzle her made his front paws twitch.

He needed to shift and get her to safety, but he also wanted to burn this moment into his memory, the second he first saw his mate. His jaw clamped down on the pack he carried, his dry mouth reminding him of its presence.

Finally, he backed away from her several yards, hiding himself amongst the bushes he’d come through to let the change take him back to human form.

In two minutes, it was over and he was dressed. And this was why he always carried the cumbersome pouch.

She was so still.

He crouched beside her. Her breaths were shallow, her face totally relaxed in deep sleep. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Juliana?”

His fingers shook where they’d made contact with her warmth, shockwaves traveling up his arm even through the jacket and whatever she wore underneath. The urge to haul her into his embrace made him tense. He needed to know she was all right. Every bit of her.

She startled awake and bolted upright. “Ohmygod,” she gasped. A strangled sound left her throat.

Her gaze met his from only a few inches away, green eyes like deep pools of water reflecting her shock, her fear and her relief all at once.

“Are you okay?”

She smiled up at him, cute dimples forming on both cheeks. “I am now.” She inhaled, releasing it slowly.

Her heart rate slowed under his palm after the initial surprise. He could feel her pulse in her neck, the swish of blood as it coursed through her.

“Are you injured?”

“Only my pride.” Her pale face tipped back again, her cheeks now flushed. “How did you find me? Where am I?”

“You’re a long way from where you left the path, that’s for sure. Scores of people are combing the woods searching for you.”
In a completely different direction
. But she didn’t need to know that right now. “How did you get so far from where you started?”

“A man recommended I take a shortcut. When it got late I backtracked. I must have taken a wrong turn, because before I knew it, it was dark. I walked for a little longer and finally saw a light in the distance.” She dipped her head down, her face no longer visible to his perusal. “How embarrassing. I hike hundreds of miles every year. I’ve never gotten lost before. I-I’m not sure how this happened.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re okay now. Everything is going to be fine. Did you walk all night? You must be exhausted. Hungry.” He was rambling. He never rambled. She had him tongue-tied. No, he’d never acted like this even as a youngster. Wolves didn’t fall all over themselves quite like humans did. Not until they met their mates, apparently.

She giggled. The sweetest sound he’d ever heard. “I think I’m okay. Relieved you found me. Wasn’t sure what I was going to do if I had to keep walking all night again.”

Why had she chosen to travel by night and sleep by day? Sure, it was a better idea as far as warmth was concerned, but not many people would think of such a thing under stress.

Sergius stood and extended his hand to her. She rose alongside him, steadying her slight frame. But her grip sent his mind whirling. Every hair on his body felt electrified. His heart raced. And damn if his c**k didn’t jump to attention.

Lord, she was half a foot shorter than his six feet. And might weigh one fifteen, one twenty, soaking wet.

He could feel the firm muscles on her arms where his hand had landed as they stood. She was strong, apparently both physically as well as emotionally. She hadn’t started crying as he would have expected and didn’t appear to have spent the night crying either. Her eyes weren’t puffy, but weary. Stress lines marked her face.

“Why did you walk all night?”

“Well, the light for one. I thought it was a campfire, but it always remained elusive. I was sure if I followed that damn light, there had to be people around wherever it led when I got there. The strange thing was it was like a mirage. It seemed to keep moving farther away the closer I got to it. Exasperating, really.” She chuckled. “Now it seems absurd. Maybe I imagined the damn thing.”

Her brow furrowed and she bent to examine herself and brush off the twigs and leaves sticking to her body.

Serg reached to pull a leaf from her hair and tucked the unruly strand back behind her ear. When his thumb brushed her cheek, a shock jolted him. She jerked her gaze up to his and sucked in a breath.

She was so beautiful, even with tangled hair and a streak of dirt across her chin. Her round face was pale against his darker hand, a light sprinkling of freckles above her button nose. Sergius let his thumb travel across her cheek again, cupping the side of her head with his palm. His gaze traveled around her face, landing finally on her heart-shaped pink lips, which quivered as she licked the dryness away and tucked the bottom one inside, biting it between her teeth.

Her breath rate increased, in and out through her nose, while she dented that bottom lip with the tight grip of her front teeth.

Did he turn her on? He hadn’t been around mated couples for so long he’d forgotten what it was like when wolves met their mates.

His own heart was racing, threatening to pound out of his chest. He tried not to breathe too often or too deeply, because every inhale dragged more of her sweet essence into him, driving him crazy with the need to take her.

She was ready for his steel, but not for his flesh.

Mistress of the Stone

© 2012 Maria Zannini

Luísa Tavares has a list of sins the length of the Antilles, but there’s no time to repent for them now. When a pockmarked Frenchman hands her Papa’s ring—still attached to his severed finger—she orders the
Coral
back to the Caribbean, despite her father’s earlier warning never to return.