Sneak Peek Snippet: A Safe Harbor

Okay, technically this is not a Red Rock snippet. Red Rock as it exists in the present timeline has yet to come into being in this novella, because Gavin Hamilton is a young werewolf still running a little wild with the criminal element, not a mature man who has started his own sanctuary town.  Sanctuaries don’t yet exist in this novella, in fact, since this story is about the founding of the first one.

A Safe Harbor is set during the Great Depression, when the natural order of the werewolf packs was compromised.  Being the strongest was important, but having the most money could buy you influence and power.   It was the first step in a slow corruption of the werewolves traditions and society that led to the mess they’re dealing with in the Red Rock Pass days.

So here we are, with a Great-Depression-Era-Paranormal-Romance novella.  Go where the story takes you, huh? 

Right now the story takes us to…a beach.  So, a blurb and then a snippet?  I think so.

A Safe Harbor

A Building Sanctuary Novella

Joan Fuller enjoyed a privileged life—until her wealth and connections garnered her the wrong sort of attention. Her rejection of a textile heir’s proposal comes back to bite her when he turns out to be a werewolf on the prowl for a mate.

She may have been turned against her will, but now that she’s part of his pack she sets out to protect all the women . Even if it means joining forces with a witch and a vampire—and leaving the comfort of Boston.

Former bootlegger Seamus Whelan has cleaned up his act, but when his old partner Gavin comes to him for help, he can’t say no—no matter how deadly the threat. Escorting some female wolves to safety should have been easy, except their leader is a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself.

Her courage captures his interest, and her first hesitant kiss ensnares his heart. But before they can build a haven for their kind, they must free themselves of the past—and the powerful man who’s out to teach her a lesson she may not survive…

* * *

Seamus watched her, his gaze an almost tangible weight. “I know this must seem like cold comfort, but you’re doing well.”

It seemed a tiny bit condescending, but for all she knew he was twice or even thrice her age. Picking a fight with the only ally she had seemed petty and childish, so she accepted the words as she imagined he meant them. “Thank you. This…is not the life I expected to lead.”

“Does anyone?” He blew out a breath. “I’m upsetting you.”

“A little.” She looked away, back out toward the ocean with its dark, frothy waves and untamed expanses. “But it isn’t personal. Being upset with you is easier than thinking about the choices I’ve made in the past twenty-four hours.”

He laughed softly, though the sound held no mirth. “Be as angry with me as you want, then. As long as it serves a useful purpose, I can take it.”

“Are you sure? I’m told I’m impossibly tedious when I’m whipped into a frenzy of moral outrage.”

“Nothing about you is tedious.”

Her kiss certainly had been. She’d agonized over it plenty in the intervening time, fighting to convince herself she’d made a logical decision for the good of her people. Embarrassment made it easier to rationalize—obviously she’d been sacrificing herself for the greater good. If she’d truly wanted to kiss him, she wouldn’t have done such a terrible job.

It amused her that she could still cling to pride when she had nothing else. Or maybe that was why she clung so fiercely, as if she could rewrite history if she replayed the events enough times in her head.

A pointless diversion. She’d kissed him.

She’d wanted to.

She still wanted to, and it had nothing to do with saving her people or herself. Even now just turning to look at him stirred that hunger, primal and confident even though she had no reason to be.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, and Seamus lifted one warm hand to her cheek. “You’re looking at me like you want me to kiss you.”

“Am I?” The words came out sounding breathless and foolish. Hungry, and she was—so, so hungry for his touch. Enough that she leaned into his hand just to feel the rough texture of his fingers against her cheek.

“You are.” He bent his head closer to hers. “Do you?”

Years of self-denial stretched out behind her, and her future held the same grim certainty. Inside, her wolf whined in protest, and for the first time in her life Joan didn’t fight it. Here under the stars, with the ocean as her only witness, she could have one moment of selfishness.

So she didn’t answer in words. Perhaps her clumsy kiss would inspire as little interest this time as it had last time, but she’d know she’d had the courage to try. She closed her eyes and found his lips with her own, savored the soft warmth that filled her at even the gentlest contact.

But it didn’t stay gentle. Seamus groaned, pulled her closer and licked her mouth. “Let me in, Joan.”

It became impossible to separate the gentle noise of waves breaking on the sand from the roaring in her ears. She grasped his shoulder, twisted her fingers in his vest as she let her head fall back. “I don’t know what to do. Tell me.”

“Open.” His thumb brushed her lips and applied the barest pressure to her chin. “Open your mouth.”

She did, and moaned when his tongue swept inside. She’d never allowed herself to consider the parts of sex that came between chaste kisses and the act itself, an act her wolf already found appealing. Left to her own devices, the animal would have her on her stomach already, hips raised in offering for a joining that had always struck Joan as unappealingly savage.

Seamus’s kiss wasn’t savage, but it was demanding. His tongue slicked against hers, twisting pleasure and need into a tense ball that tugged at her with every stroke.

Too soon, he broke away, panting. “Sorry. That was…”

“A real kiss?” Oh, how breathless she sounded. Dazed, too, which would have stung her pride more if she could have dragged her gaze from his mouth.

He smiled suddenly. “A real kiss, that’s for goddamn certain.”

She wasn’t ready to face the depressing realities of the world again. Not yet. This time she knew what he wanted and gave it to him, her lips on his, her mouth open and eager. The taste of him enchanted her, as did the rough scratch of stubble against her skin.

His hand slid around to the back of her head and held her still while his tongue tangled with hers. Then his mouth skimmed her cheek. “Joan.”

If she kept her eyes closed, she could pretend the world began and ended with their tiny little cove. “Yes?”

His next words broke the spell. “Someone’s coming.”