Savage Hunger: Savage, Book 1 (39 page)

Allison’s cheeks burned with the reminder. So it was like that, was it? At one time she, Kenneth and Clint had been thick as thieves. She’d grown up just houses away from Kenneth and Clint—who was originally from Montana—had always spent the summers with his grandma who lived next door to Kenneth’s family. Even after college Clint had still come out. It was a habit he hadn’t broken.

It was only when she and Kenneth had started dating that Clint had stopped making the trip to Washington state. Hadn’t really replied to any of her emails either, just a short reply. Not unfriendly, but definitely not what they’d once had. It had saddened her, made her wonder if he just felt like the third wheel and didn’t want to hang out?

But that was months ago now. Why was he acting like such a dick now?

She gave Clint a slight shrug and said, “What dinner? I have no idea what you’re even talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was just on my way out.”

“But you haven’t yet eaten.”

Now how did he know that?
Oh
. She drew in a slow breath. He’d been watching her. Watching her watch them. She should’ve known better. Clint had always been perceptive as all hell.

He laughed, and the sound came out low and a bit sexy, sending little shivers down her spine. “You can’t expect me to believe that you showing up during Ken and Ashley’s dinner is purely coincidence.”

He cut right to the quick, didn’t he? Deciding on a different technique, and wanting to erase any of his suspicions, she relaxed and let her mouth curl into a smile.

“Actually, yes.”

“All right. Well, since you were on your way out, let me walk you.”

Had he always been this bossy? Her smile disappeared and she glanced back in the private room. Maybe if she—

“Allison.” This time her name was a silky warning on his lips.

As she watched, Kenneth left the bathroom and returned to the private room, never seeing her or Clint at the other end of the hallway.

Well, shit. Annoyance flickered through her and she scowled.
Thanks, Clint, for screwing up my plans
. Who knew when she’d get a chance to meet with Kenneth alone now?

Frustrated with Clint blocking her efforts and not wanting to make a scene, she gave a sharp nod and allowed Clint to lead her out the entrance of the restaurant.

Once in the parking lot she tugged her arm away.

“There, you walked me outside. I hope it was good for you.” She rummaged in her purse for her keys. “As much as I’d like to catch up with you and chat, I should be on my way now.”

Two hands came to rest on either side of her and she drew in a startled breath. Clint stepped forward, boxing her in between his body and her Toyota.

“Let me just make one thing clear, Allie.” His words brushed hot across her face, and a tremble ran through her. God, was it his cologne or aftershave that smelled so good? Whatever it was, was rich and masculine, teasing her senses and slowing her thoughts.

Clint, this is Clint. Not some hot guy you’re hitting on at a bar.
How weird she was having this reaction to him. Maybe because it had been a year and she hadn’t realized how much she missed him. Though right now she was kind of just wishing he’d go away again.

“Make what clear?” she finally asked, shaking her head so she could think straight again.

“It took Ken a long time to get over you, but he’s clearly moved on.” His gaze locked with hers, no amusement, just sober determination.

“What?” Her mouth gaped. “Are you serious? Kenneth never—”

“Look. Just take my advice. Stay away from him now. Whatever you’re thinking, just stop it. He’s getting married to someone else.”

She quirked an eyebrow before folding her arms across her chest.

“What is
wrong
with you? I thought we were all friends. Why are you acting like I’m some crazy party crasher?”

“Times have changed, Allison. We’ve all changed. And if you were still such a good friend he would’ve invited you to the wedding and tonight’s dinner.”

Times have changed. Why did hearing him utter those words make her heart twist a little? When had everything gotten so complicated?

Unfortunately now wasn’t the time to bring that up. Now was the time to try and save Kenneth’s ass from a crappy future. Deciding to drop any pretense of not knowing about the dinner, she said, “And I’m sure he would’ve invited me tonight, if Ashley hadn’t told him not to.”

Skepticism flashed in Clint’s eyes. “Why on earth would she do that?”

“Because she knows I don’t like her.”

“And why don’t you like her?”

Maybe it would be better to tell him, possibly gain an ally. At this point what could it hurt trying to explain her rationale?

“Why? Because she’s a trashy gold digger, Clint. I have a feeling she’s faking a pregnancy to get him to marry her.”

Clint stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Hope sparked inside her and she held her breath.

“Really?” he finally said deadpan. “That’s the best you got?”

Allison let out a growl of frustration and glared at him. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said anything to you. I don’t know why you don’t trust me anymore.”

“I just don’t trust your motives.”

“Don’t you have a dinner to go to?”

“Yes. I do.” He smiled, seeming amused by her loss of temper now.

“Then why don’t you go.”

“I will.” He dipped his head, until those lips just about brushed her ear. “Just remember what I said, Allie.”

Her pulse jerked and heat spread through her body. Shocked at her reaction, she raised her hand to push him back, but before she could touch him he’d pulled his arms away and released her.

“Good to see you again, Allison. We should do lunch and catch up.”

When magic takes hold, there's no bluffing the heart.

Betting the Moon

© 2012 Beverly Rae

Cannon Pack, Book 4

Mari Thornton, professional gambler, prides herself on playing high-stakes poker the old-fashioned way: with skill, charm and luck, and
without
using her magic. She’s determined to win the Las Vegas Poker Extravaganza’s gold bracelet and million-dollar prize, but Tucker Manning’s raw, sexual appeal is throwing her concentration off.
Way
off.

An up-and-coming poker whiz, Tucker plans to enjoy every second of this tournament, especially when he feels Mari’s magic brush up against his werewolf power. With luck, he’ll win and win big, taking both the tournament
and
the green-eyed beauty whose magic oozes out of her hot body like honey. Proving that last year’s winner is a cheat will make the victory all that much sweeter.

When she senses Bryson Bascomb’s dark, supernatural influence over his opponents, Mari agrees to Tucker’s proposal to help expose the vampire’s trickery. But Bascomb isn’t going down without a fight. And the fallout leaves Mari wondering if she can trust Tucker with her life. Or if in the end, he’ll throw in his hand…and throw her under the bus.

Warning: Mix in hot glamour, wild fangs and sexy incantations, and you get a no-holds ride of sex and winner-take-all thrills. And maybe, if you’re lucky…true love.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Betting the Moon:

Tucker took Mari’s arm and led her to a corner of the room. “We have to talk.”

She shook off his hold, then needing support, rested her back against the wall. He stepped closer, glanced around at the crowd and tucked his head next to hers.

“We have to talk.”

“You said that.” Her nerves were raw, and she wondered if she could handle any more surprises. “So talk.”

Tucker met her gaze. “You have magic.” He tilted his head as though daring her to lie. “You’re a witch, right?”

Fear whipped through her as she wondered whether to admit the truth. Could she trust him not to expose her? But she couldn’t deny it any more than he could deny the powerful energy she sensed coming from him. “I am. But what about you?”

He looked away for a moment, then back at her. Did he think he wouldn’t have to answer?

“I don’t have magic.”

“Okay, maybe not magic. But you have power. An energy. I can feel it.”

He glanced around, checking for anyone who might overhear. “Have you ever heard of the Cannons of Colorado?”

“No. Should I have? Besides, what do they have to do with—” she waved her hand outward, “—this craziness?”

“The Cannons are a group of people who all have the same, uh, condition.”

She blew out a breath, then ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t understand. What kind of condition?”

He studied her as though deciding what he could or could not say. At last, he took a long, slow breath and released it. “Lycanthropy.”

Her mind blocked out the noises around them. “Lycanthropy? Wait. Are you talking about werewolves?”

“Yeah, werewolves. I’m a member of the Cannon pack.”

His blue eyes twinkled. Was he kidding? Irritation burned in her gut. Enough was enough. “You’re telling me you’re a werewolf?”

He shushed her, putting a finger on her lips. “I don’t want everyone to hear. Do you?”

His touch ignited the low embers that had started the day they’d met. Unable to control her urge, she darted her tongue just past her lips to wet the tip of his finger. Tucker looked at the dampness glistening on his skin, then with his blue eyes flecked with bits of amber, he licked the tip of his finger and moaned.

“Damn, if only we had time right now.”

Mari swallowed, wanting the same thing he did, but she resisted—for now. “Don’t lie to me, Tucker. Werewolves don’t exist.” The image of his mouth, long teeth sticking over his lips, his eyes changing from blue to amber flashed across her mind. Could he be telling her the truth? She’d heard stories, but they were only stories, right?

Tucker snorted, then pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “You witches always amaze me at how little you know. Werewolves do exist. Trust me on this one.”

She accepted his answer with an imperceptible nod, her gut telling her what she’d seen was real, but she still couldn’t ignore the lingering doubt stiffening her spine. He was different, all right. But a werewolf? She closed her eyes, letting the impression she received from him soak into her. The dark energy she’d felt earlier floated beneath the surface. It wasn’t black like Bascom’s darkness, and it was pushed down, layered with the light of a purer energy on top. She just hoped Tucker had more light than dark inside him.

“Have you used your powers here?” If so, how had she missed it?

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Other than changing into a werewolf, I don’t have magical powers like you. Besides, I could ask you the same thing.”

“You could.” She bit her lower lip, her nerves still frayed. “No. I never use magic in poker. I prefer to use my natural skills. It’s not fair to the humans.”

“I agree.” He reached out to touch the spot he’d touched before, and once again, an overwhelming urge to suck on his finger trembled through her. “For your sake, you should stop biting your lip. It’s a major tell that you’re nervous.” He darted his hungry gaze between her eyes and her mouth. “But it’s one hell of a turn-on, too, so if it’s up to me, I hope you keep doing it.”

“I guess it depends on whether I want to play poker or play with you.”
Kiss me, damn it.
She closed her eyes, willing her pulse to slow down.
Keep your mind on the game.

She sensed that he’d edged closer and she opened her eyes. His face was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “You know what, Mari Thornton?”

“What?” Her breathless question floated in the air between them.

“If a hundred or so people weren’t hanging out around us, I’d throw you on top of the table and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.”

Her first thought was to act offended. But that would’ve been an act. She inhaled, drawing in his scent, and decided to take a risk. “You know what, Tucker Manning?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d let you.”

He should push her away…but he’d rather have his wicked way with her.

Getting Familiar With Your Demon

© 2012 Jodi Redford

That Old Black Magic, Book 4

After too many years learning death from the inside out as the familiar of a voodoo queen, soul collector Samael Gorasola betrayed his boss, which landed him on demon death row.

He should have known not even his punishment would come easy, but the deal he’s offered to escape his fate stinks. Become the indentured servant to his despised enemy? No thanks, he’d rather be six feet under. With that in mind, he picks a deadly fight with two demon hunters, only to be rescued by one misguided, deliciously innocent white witch.

Marabella hasn’t a clue what possessed her to help Sam, particularly since he’s not the least bit grateful. She blames it on her overwhelming attraction to the dark, dangerous demon, and her exasperating quest to rid herself of the stubborn curse that guards her virginity. If the guild finds out, though, she can kiss her white-witch status goodbye.