HAMMER DOWN – Children of the Undying #2
Buy Links: Samhain Publishing, Amazon, Barnes & Noble

While the tattered remains of humanity huddle underground, hiding in their virtual world, Devi prefers living topside, making dangerous hauls through the demon-infested wasteland earth has become. The wealth that comes from smuggling supplies to those shunned as summoner-born or demon-touched doesn’t hurt, either.

 * * *

No lie, y’all. I love this book. Not that I don’t love everything we write, but this book is always going to be special to me.  I loved writing in this world, but maybe most especially I loved the chance to play with virtual reality.  Maybe because it was a chance to let my characters enjoy the same giddy joy I get to have every day that I get to write.  It’s a magical thing, getting to invent entirely new worlds with nothing but your brain and a keyboard.

And if you haven’t caught the contest, we’re giving away some ereaders and fun stuff in honor of the book release today.  So check it out:

I will leave y’all with a wicked excerpt from Hammer Down.

EXCERPT FROM HAMMER DOWN
(not entirely safe for work)

“It shouldn’t matter.” His voice grated, suddenly angry. “God damn it, it shouldn’t fucking matter. You shouldn’t matter.”

It hurt, even though she understood the sentiment perfectly. “Thanks.”

He snarled again and covered the space between them in two long strides, crowding her against the wall. His hands slapped the wall on either side of her head, but he didn’t touch her. “Liar. Or are you going to tell me you want me to matter?”

She opened her mouth to give him a kind lie, to tell him he didn’t matter in the least, not to her. “No. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you.”

“You don’t. You don’t know me.” He pressed closer, nothing but hard muscle and heat stretched out against her. “We both got it bad, sweetheart. If you want to take me for a ride and get it out of your system, I’m game.”

“I bet you are.” He’d obviously given the matter some thought, which was more than she was capable of at the moment. Her body had gone into sensory overdrive, cataloguing every bit of tactile information it could gather about him.

And it wasn’t enough. She wanted to know what he tasted like, mouth and skin. Whether she could find softness anywhere on his body, or if he was all hard. There was only one way to find those answers, so she lifted her hands to his shoulders and pushed, testing his strength.

He didn’t budge. His lips curved into that wicked smile she’d first seen at the Pit Stop, and his hands skated down to grasp her hips. One quick jerk lifted her off the ground, onto his solid, muscular thigh, and he crushed his mouth to hers.

Heat blazed through Devi. Nothing, not even the way she’d spent the last few days craving him, had prepared her for the way she reacted to what should have been a simple kiss. His tongue touched hers and her knees went weak, leaving her grinding down on his leg. He knew how to take a woman’s mouth with single-minded determination, waging all-out war on her defenses. His thigh began to move against her, and he matched the thrusts of his tongue to that slow, deadly rock.

Devi jerked her mouth from his with a gasp. “Harder.”

“Bossy.” He bit her lower lip, and his chuckle rolled over her. “You want something, you take it.” He fit his mouth to hers again as his rough fingers curled around the back of her neck.

He liked being in control, but so did she. When she rocked against him this time, she dropped her hand and caressed the hard ridge of his cock in time with her body’s movements.

She swallowed his hissing moan, and a heartbeat later he snatched up her wrist and pinned it against the wall. “If that’s how you want to play…” He moved his other hand from her hip to her ass, dragging her into his next grinding thrust.

A little creative wiggling put her legs on either side of his, and she arched off the wall. She wanted to play, so badly that once wouldn’t be enough. She’d fuck him fast, round off the sharp edge of hunger twisting her belly. Then she could take her time, learn all those things she couldn’t leave without knowing.

He groaned, a rumbling noise that was half pleasure, half something darker, but he let her wiggle as he lowered his lips to her ear. “Impatient, aren’t you? Do you usually fuck men who roll onto their backs for you?”

“Sometimes.” She moved her hips once more, and a bolt of pleasure shuddered through her. Anticipation prickled over her skin and tightened her nipples.

“Lazy bastards. Not that I wouldn’t let you ride me, sweetheart.” He squeezed her ass. “But not until I’d had my fingers between your thighs. I bet you bite when you come.”

The mental picture his words painted was intoxicating. “And you like the thought of my teeth on your skin.”

“Depends on where you sink ’em.” He worked a hand between their bodies, his knuckles skimming the edge of her pants. “Where would you let me sink mine?”

“I’m not nearly so picky.” Flip, easy words, handy for hiding how deeply his touch shook her. “Bite me wherever you want.”

“That’d be just about everywhere.” His fingertips were hot as they grazed her bare skin. Rough breaths fell against her cheek, almost panting, proof that he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as his cocky, casual tone implied. “Fuck, I wanted to do you slow, but I’m losing my damn mind. Can’t think about anything but being inside you.” He traced his tongue around the shell of her ear and proved the words with a low groan.

The wet trace of his tongue made her hands clench in his shirt, and the fabric ripped a little. “Shit, sorry. Take it off.”

A rough denial as his fingers jerked at her pants. “If you weren’t wearing these, I’d be fucking you already.”

Devi bit his jaw. “You’d be fucking me already if you didn’t talk so much.”

“And I’m talking—” He froze, his hand halfway into her pants, and cursed as his gaze jerked to the door.

She heard it a second later, pounding footsteps coming down the hallway. Zel backed away and eased her to the floor. She wanted to withdraw, smooth her hair and take a moment to compose herself, but there could be trouble. If there was, it was likely to affect her crew.

So she jerked open the door as Cache skidded to a stop outside of it. “What happened?”

Cache couldn’t hear her words, but she apparently had no trouble interpreting her meaning. Her fingers flew, three quick gestures in a row. Tanner. Guard. Fight.

“Fuck.” Devi grabbed her vest and shrugged into it with a quick glance at Zel. “Tanner’s found trouble. A fight with a guard.”

He swore and jerked his shirt back into place, seemingly oblivious to Cache’s too-curious appraisal. Devi turned back and signed to Cache. Where?

Cache pointed behind her, toward the hallway that led to the main common area and the tunnel to the rest of the compound.

Zel appeared at Devi’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Somewhere in the compound…” She scrubbed her hands over her face. The last thing they could afford after Cache’s potential snooping was violence. “We have to stop it. Come on.”

She didn’t wait for him to follow, too preoccupied by the knowledge that they were heading into a fight that likely involved more than one halfblood. The same demon heritage that made them such fierce warriors also gave them enhanced senses.

She had Zel’s scent all over her, and vice versa. Which meant that, in very short order, the complications Zel had wanted to avoid would come crashing down around them.

I know just about everyone has an opinion on prologues. Sometimes we have them, mostly we don’t. But this book has one, because something super, super important happened to Kat & Andrew in Crossroads, and even those of you who read the book never really got to see it.  That was how we wanted it–that book was about Nick & Derek dealing with it, and everything surrounding it.

This book is about Kat & Andrew, though, so we wrote that event from their POV and, after some consideration, decided it needed to be the prologue. (Oh prologue haters, don’t throw holy water on us!)

So here is that behind-the-scenes moment of what really happened to Kat & Andrew during Crossroads.

Prologue to Cipher

Fourteen months earlier

Kat tried to open the office door three times before she realized she was using the wrong key.

Her cheeks heated as she lifted the ring until the silver keys caught the faint glint from the streetlight. “Don’t say a damn word.”

Next to her, Andrew chuckled. “Hey, my lips are zipped.”

“Better be.” God, she loved his laugh. And his smile. And his eyes. She was supposed to be mad at him, but her lips tugged up in a smile of her own as she found the right key. “This’ll just take a few minutes, and then we can head back.”

“I’m in no hurry.” He rested his hand on the door and waited for her to unlock it. “With Derek MIA right now, work’s a little weird.”

The reminder brought a stab of worry. Derek was hip-deep in the latest shapeshifter mess, one that came with danger and execution orders and an instinctive need to bundle his baby cousin off into protective custody.

It was annoying. It was condescending. And it was hard to stay mad when protective custody meant spending time with Andrew–even if he had gone over to the dark side by joining the ranks of the overprotective assholes.

She could fume at Derek. She’d never been good at staying angry at Andrew.

Kat unlocked the door, and it swung open without a squeak. Inside the office was dark, so dark that her mind jumped straight to all the things she and Andrew could do in the dark. Theoretical knowledge only, more was the pity, but sometimes she caught Andrew watching her in a way that made her think he’d make it worth the wait.

Someday.

“What were you looking for, again?”

“My binder with the research notes for this stupid OS class.” The door clicked shut behind her, and she pivoted only to find herself staring up at Andrew, his handsome face turned darkly mysterious in the uncertain light.

For one perfect moment, the world went soft-focus. Awareness and potential filled the air–not the magical kind fueled by her empathic gifts, but plain, old-fashioned excitement.

Their friendship had danced along this line for months, no longer just friends but not yet something else. The enormity of what they could be trembled inside her, whispering of epic love, humbling and intimidating. She still felt young and untried, too inexperienced for grown-up relationships with high stakes and ever afters.

She wasn’t ready. Not yet…but soon, and it would be worth it.

He would be worth it.

Andrew’s thumb brushed her cheek. “You’re making big eyes at me.”

She wrinkled her nose and considered sticking out her tongue. “I wouldn’t be if you’d let me come to the office by myself. This is revenge.”

“Nowhere by yourself, those are my orders.”

The soft click to their left was out of place, and it took Kat a moment too long to figure out why.

Triumph spiked through the room in a painful lash of emotion so strong she staggered. Andrew reached out, but rough hands had already closed on her shoulders, dragging her back so fast her heels skittered across the carpet as she belatedly started to struggle.

“Kat!” Andrew’s voice shook with terror–and anger. “Kat!”

A dark figure loomed behind him, and Kat’s lips parted on a warning that came too late. “Andrew–”

Brutal fingers slammed over her mouth, muffling her enraged scream as a huge body crashed into Andrew. Her brain flitted in too many directions, and instinct took over. She crashed her heel down, aiming for her attacker’s toes, but pain splintered up her leg as her floppy sandal smashed against a steel-toed boot.

The man holding her laughed. “You’re feisty for a human. Or are you the little psychic secretary?”

They weren’t humans, not if they knew who she was. What she was. Dread froze her in place as Andrew struggled.

One of the dark-clad men punched him, a hard right across the jaw, but he continued to fight. He kicked a second intruder in the ribs, and the man stumbled back, gasping for breath.

Hot breath spilled across Kat’s ear, and terror cracked her shields, letting in a sick twist of Andrew’s pain and the exhilaration of his opponents. Feral, primal–Andrew was an unanticipated but welcome game, a hunt in which they could indulge themselves.

Shapeshifters.

The second the thought formed, her attacker tightened his grip. “We’re not here to hurt you, but if your friend doesn’t stop fighting, we’ll kill him.”

With his emotions sliding over her skin like slime, she knew the words for truth. As soon as the hand eased from her mouth, her begging plea tumbled out. “Andrew, stop.” God, she sounded scared. She was scared. Andrew was strong for a human, but shapeshifters would rip him to pieces. “Please, Andrew!”

The shifters stepped back, forming a half-circle as their prey rose and faced them. The man behind her growled. “Tell us where Jacobson’s safe houses are. I don’t want to torture you into talking, but I will.”

For a moment, she thought Andrew might back down. Then one of the men made a low noise of anticipation, and Andrew swung.

He was going to die, trying to protect her.

She was going to watch it happen.

Fear shattered into a thousand pieces and took her self-control with it, the breakdown so complete that she didn’t realize she’d lost her grip on her empathic projection until everyone in the office froze.

The hands on her shoulders clenched until she thought they might crush bone. One of the men shuddered, a queer-sounding whimper ripping free from his throat. Low, terrified–barely human, and so afraid.

“You goddamned little bitch–” Rough fingers twisted in her hair, but it was too late. Someone jerked her head back hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, and the pain intensified the fear flooding the room.

A low curse ended on a snarl as one of the men began to shift. Andrew yelled something, but the words disappeared in a cacophony of angry yips and howls as a second man shifted, tearing free of his clothing.

So fast. It happened so fast. One second she was staggering under the weight of her attacker’s anger, the next she was on her knees and Andrew–

Andrew lay on the floor, his clothes rent and dark with blood. Bleeding, and so pale, clutching at his stomach with one hand and his throat with the other–

Dying.

Fear vanished. Pain followed, leaving sweet, icy numbness behind. Cold, cold, cold, she was so cold she should be shivering. So cold they should all be shivering.

She’d make them shiver.

She’d make them crawl.

The power had always been there, a burden and a nuisance. Shields kept it contained, but nothing could contain the protective rage gathering just under the surface.

She took Andrew’s pain. There was so much it should have split her in two, but she took it. Her nails scratched against the rough carpet as she took his anger too, his anger at himself for not being able to protect her. She took the shapeshifters’ rage and their fear and their determination to see her dead, she took her own breaking heart and the ice that would never melt.

She took it all, then took Andrew himself and imagined him safe in her arms, safe in the numbness making the world a distant dream. With him wrapped in her shields, she stripped her soul bare and let everything go in a terrifying thrust of power that hollowed her out and left her trembling.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Throbbed in her temples. Everything was silent, so silent she was sure she’d failed–

And then the screaming started.

* * *

Chapters 1 – 3 are up on our website now. So go read…if you can handle waiting until September for the rest!

Want to see what other people think? Check out these blogs: Book Lovers Inc | Buried By Books | Imagination Run Amok | Joyfully Reviewed | Long and Short Reviews | Mama Kitty Reviews | Paranormal Romance Addict | Read My Mind | Reading the Paranormal | RhiReading | RR@H Novel Thoughts & Book Talk | The Romance Reviews (If I missed you, it means I haven’t seen the link!)

Thanks to Samhain’s new website, Wilder’s Mate is on pre-sale at 30% off ($3.15!) if you click here. It’s also up for pre-order at Barnes & Noble, Amazon, Amazon UK & Kobo.

And now, for a completely, NOT AT ALL SAFE FOR WORK excerpt. This is the dirty one, y’all. The one our editor picked to put in the back of other books, and it’s NOT SAFE FOR WORK.

Because Wilder’s just a dirty bastard.

EXCERPT FROM WILDER’S MATE

He’d almost managed to get to sleep when a timid knock sounded on the door that led to Satira’s adjoining room. “Wilder?”

He fought the urge to slam a pillow over his face. “Yeah?”

She must have taken his reply as permission to enter, because the door inched open and she slipped through, a slight shadow wrapped in a blanket. The floorboards creaked as she took a step closer to the bed. “Do you mind…?”

She looked like she thought he’d growl at her until she ran screaming from the room. “Come on in.”

“I can’t sleep.” Her voice held more than a little shame at the confession. “If people are expecting you to bed me, it can’t hurt our disguise if we sleep in the same room, can it?”

Now he wanted to slam a pillow over his lap. “Can’t hurt our disguise.” It could only hurt him if he had to control himself around her. She grasped her blanket tight around her shoulders, but the gauzy fabric brushing the floor as she walked was sheer, flesh-colored silk.

She stopped next to the bed. “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I’ll understand.”

“Do you?”

“I think so.” She stared at the floor. “Men have needs, but you’re not interested in complicating our already difficult situation by giving in to them.”

If he was a snake… “Did you come over here for sex, or because you’d sleep better if you weren’t alone?”

“The latter.” She shivered and clutched at the blanket as it began to slip. “I know you could get to my room quickly enough if anything happened, but the way some of those men were watching me…”

She was scared, and he felt even worse about his lust as he patted the blanket beside him. “Climb up. You don’t have to be alone, and you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Thank you.” The blanket gaped open as she scrambled onto the bed, revealing that the damn flimsy nightgown Juliet had packed for her was transparent all over. She shivered and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Wilder shook his head. “That scrap of nothing isn’t warm enough.”

Satira choked on a laugh, a little hysterical but genuine. “I know. If it gets much colder tonight you’ll have to kick me out of your bed to keep me from cuddling as close as I can.”

The laughter was better than the way she’d looked at him before, hesitant and wary and almost ashamed of her fear. “If you put your cold feet on me, I’ll scream like a little girl.”

Icy toes poked at his leg, and he laughed and shoved her away.

She squirmed right back, and this time he got an entire foot pressed against his knee. Her breathless laughter cut short on a little moan of pleasure. “You’re so warm.”

“Won’t be for long.” He affected a growl, one he ruined by laughing again. “Jesus, woman. What were you doing, hanging your legs out the window?”

Satira huffed, but it didn’t stop her from tucking her other foot against his shin. “My feet get cold.”

“You’re a walking icebox.”

She echoed his words back, laced with drowsy contentment. “Won’t be for long.”

Quick as a rattlesnake bite, his protective shell of humor faded, leaving him in bed with a sleepy, scantily clad woman whose body made his knees weak. “Then it’ll be my turn to freeze.”

One small hand crept back across the covers until her fingers brushed his. “I’d keep you warm.”

His balls ached. “Better watch what you promise, sweetheart. I’m not a noble man, no matter what you think.”

Satira twisted until she faced him, eyes wide but unafraid. “It’s been eleven months since a man took me to bed. I don’t want noble.”

His first thought was to turn her over his knee and spank her. That led directly to his second thought, a mental image of her bent over in front of him, her pale ass red from his hand, her cunt glistening and wet. “Satira.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and went still, her slightly ragged breaths and too-quick heartbeat the only sounds for long moments. Then she breathed out a tiny sigh. “You make me feel like such a fool, throwing myself at a man who doesn’t want to have me. Over and over again, and I’m supposed to be intelligent.”

He urged one of the thin straps of the nightgown from her shoulder. “You worry too much.”

“I know.” With her eyes still shut she missed his mouth the first time, her open-mouthed kiss landing on his cheek.

His cock jerked like she’d licked him, and he turned his head far enough to meet her second kiss head-on, opening his mouth under hers. He swallowed her tiny little moan, and for a moment she seemed shy. Her tongue darted along his lower lip, then returned to stroke deeper, teasing against his.

He moved before he realized it, rolling them both and pinning her to the bed. “I’m not a boy. You know that, right?”

A short, jerky nod, and she wet her lips. “You’re not just a man, either. I know that too.”

No fear, and he trembled at the thought of being able to let go. Really let go. “No, not a man, either.”

She craned her head up and kissed his chin, then the corner of his lips. “I will enjoy your attentions. Even if you wish to bind me, or order me to my knees, or take me across yours.”

“Shh.” Right now, there was only one thing he wanted to do. He slid one hand into her hair and tilted her head back, opening her mouth wider so he could kiss her deeply.

There was nothing quiet about her moan this time. Her fingers found the back of his head, clutching at him as if she could pull him closer. She reacted more quickly than he thought she would, melting under him.

He trailed his mouth to her neck and collarbone. “What if I do something else entirely? Will you like that?”

“I won’t know until you do it.” Her fingers stroked down to his shoulder, exploring with unabashed curiosity. “I like an adventure. And learning new things.”

“If what I have planned for you is new, you’ve been bedding the wrong men.”

Her bare shoulder lifted in a shrug, but her voice held a soft vulnerability. “They found me pleasant enough to tumble. Perhaps I didn’t inspire them. None of them had seen me in my fancy hair and expensive dress, after all.”

“Like I said…” He skimmed one hand down her side and gathered her sheer gown high on her leg. “You’ve been bedding the wrong men.”

She laughed and bent one knee, sliding her foot along his calf. “Perhaps. So how do you intend to prove that you’re the right man?”

“I could.” His fingertips tickled over the top of her thigh. “Spread your legs.”

No hesitation at all. She opened for him with a quiet, eager noise, her hips lifting toward his hand. “And here I was, certain you’d want to see my breasts first. You seem so fond of them.”

“I know how to take my time.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you going to take me?”

Wilder slipped his hand under her gown, between her legs. “You mean am I going to fuck you?”

Freeze Line is on sale today.  It’s not a holiday story, exactly. When invited to contribute a story to a holiday or winter collection, we went long on winter…so long we ended up in an ice age.  We’ve wanted to write a story in this world for a long time, and I’m so glad this gave us the chance to visit the world of earth magic, frozen wastelands and people fighting to make a life after the end of the world.

Length: Novella | Rating: Hot | Publisher: Carina Press
Themes: Werewolves, Post-Apocalyptic, Broody Alphas, Witches & Wizards

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Read The First Chapter

Winter hit hard above the freeze line, and it lasted forever. Most of the time, Shane liked it that way. Fewer opportunities for visitors, fewer supply runs into Hamilton.

Fewer reasons to be sociable.

He throttled down, but the trail had already been packed hard with snow. Braking was tricky, and the snowmobile lurched sideways a few inches before he managed to carefully correct the slide. He had to remember to make his runs in the morning, before Bobby Settles ran through with his massive truck and a load of greenhouse produce.

You’re cranky, Sullivan. Odd. Usually the colder weather lifted his spirits. Sure, he was stuck indoors most of the time, but at least the fevers faded, sapped away by the frozen earth along with the rest of the magic. He was free from them for months–no sleepless nights shredded by fitful dreams of running under the moon, howling with the others of his kind.

In the winter, the magic slept, and the glittering, barren world was a relief to him in a way his human neighbors would never understand.

He crested a hill, the last before the straight shot across Gilroy Lake and the border of his property, and spotted a dark figure ahead, beside the trail.

He’d gone to town in the first place because an ugly sky and a biting wind from the north heralded a storm, the kind that could shut him in his house for weeks. None of his neighbors were foolish enough to wander around in such weather alone unless they had no choice.

Shane slowed as he neared the figure, but a frown drew his brows together. A slight figure, in gear too light for the weather. Lost.

He stopped the snowmobile. “You need some help?”

The figure turned. Slow and unsteady, boots slipping on the packed snow. A pale feminine face peered from beneath the hood of a too-big parka. Her words came out breathless and choppy as she shivered so hard her teeth chattered. “I was looking for shelter?”

“Not from around here, I guess.” He jerked one thumb over his shoulder. “Nearest town’s that way.”

She blinked as if she was having trouble parsing the words, and her gaze shifted too slowly to follow the path of his hand. “Oh. You’re not going in that direction?”

She was already disoriented. If he left her walking, she’d become even more confused, would probably sit down and freeze to death. “Where’s your ride?”

“I don’t have one.” She wrapped her arms around her body, looking tired and lost. “I’m…I’m not from around here.”

No shit. “Why don’t you climb on? My place is just across the lake. You can warm up, maybe make some calls.”

She didn’t move at once. Wariness stirred in her eyes, the first real emotion she’d displayed, and even with his senses dulled, he heard the too-fast pounding of her heart. Fear.

Finally, she looked away. “I’m a witch.”

He hadn’t felt the pull of her magic, but that didn’t surprise him. This far north, she might as well be human. “Dead of winter above the freeze line, lady. I’m not scared of you. Are you scared of me?”

At least she didn’t lie. “Yes. Right now, I’m scared of everyone.”

It didn’t matter what–or who–she was afraid of. Fear spelled trouble. “You coming or not?”

Her foot slipped once as she stepped forward. She caught her balance, then picked a cautious, uncertain path to his side. She dropped one gloved hand to his shoulder and swung her leg awkwardly over the snowmobile, then huddled close against his back. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now hold on.”

Once he’d navigated the sloping bank and driven onto the ice, Shane urged the snowmobile to a faster speed. Most of his bulk would shield the woman behind him from the biting wind, but past a certain point, cold was cold. And she needed to warm up.

Soon his house came into view, and he closed the remaining distance quickly. When he killed the engine and slid off the snowmobile, the woman almost fell over into the snow. “You still with me?”

Her lips were turning an alarming shade of blue. She braced both hands on the seat of the snowmobile and nodded jerkily. “I need a moment.”

She wouldn’t make it into the house on her own. “Come on.” He lifted her in his arms, careful not to jar her, and trudged to the door.

He sat her on the couch, stripped off her ill-fitting parka and wrapped two thick blankets over her shoulders. “Coffee or tea?” he asked as he stalked to the thermostat to crank it higher.

“Tea, please.” Her sleepy gaze followed him as she pulled the blankets more snugly around her. “If you have any food to spare–my body is consuming itself.”

He’d just as soon that didn’t happen in his living room. “Graham crackers?” She would need the extra sugar to help get warm.

“Anything. Thank you…” She frowned. “I don’t know your name.”

“Shane Sullivan.” He set the kettle on the stove and peeled off his cold-weather wear. “Are your clothes damp?”

“Yes, a little. I wasn’t here of my–” Her teeth snapped together. “I did not have the opportunity to plan for travel.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. “You have to take them off.”

“All right.” No embarrassment or self-consciousness, though she might well be far past both. She let the blankets slip from her shoulders. The clothes seemed as ill fitting as the parka had been. A man’s rough cotton shirt hung around her like a tent, but the pants were tight across her hips.

She struggled with the boots first, her clumsy fingers fumbling with laces still caked with ice. Conscience pricked him. It had been too long since he’d had to deal with other people in this capacity, and he was horrible at it.

So Shane put the crackers on the coffee table and knelt by her feet. “Let me.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded hoarse. “I’m worse than helpless. It’s so cold, and the earth is completely asleep. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

The utter lack of magic–and her resulting weakness–must have terrified her. “It doesn’t really wake up around here, not even in the summer.”

Huge brown eyes studied him for a moment, and he had the curious sensation she was weighing something about him. She tilted her head to one side. “Are you a werewolf?”

The only logical deduction. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Silence reigned as he slipped off her boots, leaving her scrunching her toes in oversize cotton socks. Finally, she sighed. “I’m not sure if I’m being hunted or not.”

He was in it now, no matter what. “Don’t worry about it.” He peeled off the socks too and stood, gesturing to her. “If you can handle the rest, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

A nod. “I believe so, yes.”

He retreated to check on the kettle–and take a moment to peer out the kitchen window at the path to the house. If she’d been followed… Shane shook himself. He’d seen no one else, not even a hint of a search, and he forced himself to relax.

When he returned, her clothes lay in a pile beside her boots. The witch had curled up with the blankets tangled around her body, her legs tucked under her, her cheek resting on the arm of the couch. Almost asleep.

“Hey–” He hadn’t even caught her name. “Hey, lady, sit up. You can’t sleep yet. You need to eat and drink something.” And warm up.

She moaned, but she sat up anyway. The blanket slipped from one shoulder, revealing milky skin and the winding pattern of a tattoo curled around her upper right arm. “Nadia. I’m Nadia.”

“Nadia.” He snatched another throw from the back of a chair and laid it over her shoulders. “Tea’s almost ready.”

“Thank you…Shane?”

“That’s right.” The kettle began to whistle, so he went to prepare her tea and added several spoonfuls of sugar. When he carried it back, he found her more alert, and some of his tension eased. “Here you go.”

With the warm mug clutched between her hands, she perked up. “Do you live alone?”

“Just me.”

“So far from everyone else?”

She already knew the truth, so what did a little more matter? “It’s safer that way, especially when things warm up.”

“Ah.” Understanding sparked in her eyes as she took a careful sip of her tea. “You seem more at peace than the werewolves I’ve encountered before.”

Which meant she hadn’t spent much time north of the line–and she didn’t know jack shit about him. “Living up here dulls the feral stuff just like it does your magic.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes. “The people who brought me here counted on it.”

She’d been hurt. Shane choked back the instinctive anger that rose, and pressed the crackers into her hand. “Eat.”

After one bite, she made a quiet sound of pleasure, as if she hadn’t tasted anything better in days–which was entirely possible, judging by her enthusiasm. She drank half the tea and ate three crackers in silence as her shivering eased. “You saved my life.”

Something about the declaration left him uneasy. “Maybe.”

“You did.” She sipped her tea. Studied him. “I have nothing with which to repay you.”

He bristled. “I don’t need to be repaid for decency.”

The words made her flinch. “I mean no insult. It is my people’s custom.”

“What, insinuating that I must have dragged you back here for a reason, or that you’ve got to make it worth my while? That custom sucks.”

Her lips tugged down into a frown. “It is not about your expectations. It is about my gratitude.”

“You can keep it.”

“Then I will.” At least the anger flashing in her eyes proved there was some life in her.

Not to mention the fact that her ire bothered him less than the helpless, almost hopeless way she’d tallied what she supposedly owed him. “Look–you don’t owe me anything. Jackasses aside, anyone around here would have done the same thing. People help each other.”

The words startled a laugh out of her. “Are we people?”

Maybe not, but he’d spent so long pretending that he didn’t like the question. “Sure, why not?”

She lifted one shoulder, though the gesture was all but obscured by the heavy tangle of blankets. “I am what I am. And what I am is very tired. Do you think it’s safe for me to sleep?”

She seemed alert enough now, exhaustion aside. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

“There’s one place.” Nadia hesitated. “It’s not related to the cold. It’s the back of my neck. I think there may be burns.”

The anger he’d choked down threatened to boil up and spill over. “Let me see.”

One slender hand slid from beneath the blankets. She turned, reached up and dragged the disheveled strands of her long, dark hair forward over one shoulder.

Angry red marks stood out on the back of her neck, and up close he could see faint bruises circling her throat. “It was a collar,” she whispered. “It shocked me.”

Shane breathed in, one long inhalation, and out. “I have an antibiotic cream, if you think it’ll help.”

“I don’t think it can hurt. My body might not have the energy to fight off infection. Not with the earth dragging at me.”

“I’ll get it.” He made his way to the bathroom and braced his hands on the sink as he fought for control. Even the dormant earth couldn’t erase every trace of the wolf from his body or mind, and the sick, injured woman in his living room brought the beast rushing to the surface.

Blankets and bandages couldn’t appease instinct. She was weak, she’d been hurt and the wolf wanted to make someone pay.

Don’t miss the link at the bottom where you can click to win an early copy of Deadlock!

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT FROM TURN IT UP
Adult Content – Not Safe For Work (Probably)

He stepped closer, not giving her time to continue her protests. Last night he’d shown more control than any man should ever have to. Today his ability to manage the urges driving him grew a little shakier. “My family thinks the world of you and would be thrilled to be involved with your child—again meaning more love and attention. That’s not the biggest reason to marry me, but it’s a bonus.”

“Like a prize in the cereal box?”

Max laughed out loud, the expression on her face driving him crazy. Sarcastic wench. “God, you are so freaking cocky. I love that. And that’s the real reason this makes sense. I would definitely choose to be in a long-term relationship with you.”

She opened her mouth to speak then swung her hands in frustration, pacing away to stand in front of an empty window opening. Fists planted on her hips, she stared out at the backyard.

He waited patiently.

Tasha turned and shook her head. “You can’t know that. You’re too young to—”

“Don’t.” That was the one argument he would not accept. It made his blood boil. He rapidly crossed the room to her side. “Don’t you dare say something trite like ‘You’re too young to know your own mind.’ This is me, not some random person off the street. We’ve spent tons of time together over the years.”

“Not one-on-one, not in a sexual relationship.”

“Because you’ve never let us go there. I’ve been your friend. I’ve helped you move and fixed your car. We’ve played games together and watched bad movies. When I make a decision I stick to it. If I say I want to be involved with you, trust me, I’ve given it a ton of thought. I’ll not only keep my commitment, but be the best damn father possible.”

Her face grew redder as she waved her hands in the air and shouted at him, “You can’t propose to me just because I want to get pregnant.”

It was his turn to stare in disbelief. “This from a woman who plans on making a baby and having to deal with wet diapers and colic and all the rest of it alone for the next twenty years? Don’t talk to me like I’m the only crazy person in the room.”

They locked glares, neither one blinking or willing to back down. The wind picked up and blew in the open window, ruffling her hair around her face and something inside him tightened. Was he in love with her? Hell, yeah. He’d admired her forever, her body and her character, and love seemed to have snuck in as a natural progression, but that’s not what she needed to hear, not yet. She’d spent too long keeping him at arm’s length. He’d have to start somewhere they could agree. Max took a step closer, dropping his gaze to her lips. She licked them nervously, crossing her arms in front.

“What are you doing?” She shuffled backward, coming to a sudden stop against the raw wood of a two-by-six wall stud, flinging her hands out to catch her balance.

“Proving we’ve got a physical attraction between us.” One more pace put him in her personal space, their feet alternating on the floor, torsos brushing, hips close enough the heat of her body bled against his.

She leaned harder against the wood at her back, her breasts heaving beneath her T-shirt as she tried to widen the space between them, and he refused to give way. “What does that have to do— I mean, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Max sank his fingers into her thick mane of dark hair and let his satisfaction escape in a low moan. God, he’d wanted to do that forever, and last night refusing her sexual advances had taken him to the breaking point. He needed this so badly he felt raw inside, aching with need for a taste of her. He tugged until her face tilted toward him, the smooth curve of her cheek shining in the midmorning sunlight. “Just in case you get some screwy idea of accepting only part of my terms. I don’t want you to imagine for even a moment we’re going to use any kind of turkey-baster method to get you pregnant.”

Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth, probably to lambaste him. He took advantage of the opportunity and clamped their mouths together.

Stone cold sober.

Suddenly, that’s what she was—the blood pounding through her carrying more than enough oxygen to reinvigorate her dusty brain cells. He was kissing her. No, that was wrong. A kiss was something your granny gave you, something innocent and calm that made you slightly sleepy. This was a different beast altogether, like a flash fire rolling through and consuming everything in its path, and before she realized what she was doing, Tasha had wholeheartedly joined in.

Maxwell Turner wasn’t only kissing her, he had his body so tight against hers there was no doubt remaining that various parts of his anatomy had increased in girth, and she wasn’t talking about his pecs anymore. His tongue swept into her mouth, the lingering hint of coffee vanishing as her taste buds switched to take him in. Clean, warm, and oh my God, the boy could kiss. Heat flushed from her core outward, her breasts grew hot and heavy, and damn if she remembered why she’d turned him away all these years. Strong fingers curled around her neck as he deepened their contact. She responded, her tongue brushing his, lips and teeth getting into the act. She grabbed his shoulders for support, digging into the firm muscles under her fingertips. He ate greedily at her mouth until her head spun, senses shifting to overload.

He snuck a hand around her torso, fingers spread wide as he slid under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her lower back. Warm palm in full contact with her body, he pulled her even tighter against his groin, and his rigid erection dug into her belly. Her breasts were crushed between them, nipples tight and aching. Max fastened onto her tongue and sucked it into his mouth, a flash of ecstasy shooting through her core and setting her on fire. How long had it been since she’d felt like this from simply kissing? She scraped her fingernails down his back and he dragged his lips from hers, groaning loudly. Air rushed back into her lungs, and she shoved her fingers into his back pockets and yanked him forward. The leg between hers nudged her knees farther apart before sliding closer to connect with her sex.

His assault on her senses continued as he worked his way along her jaw to press kisses and nips to the tender skin below her ear. The need inside escalated to the point she was ready to peel off her clothes and go for it right there. She was empty, and aching. Their combined breathing carried loud on the air, echoing in the hollow spaces of the unfinished room.

Max returned to her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, mimicking the rocking motion of his hips, and she whimpered. It was too much and not nearly enough. He released his grip on her hair and cupped her ass instead, dragging her up his body until she rode the solid ridge of his erection. Tingling, flashes of heat, pleasure—all of it washed over her in waves and she clutched him tighter. Good Lord, she was going to climax like this, rubbing him like a cat.

He lifted her left leg higher and looped her knee over his elbow, forcing her back hard to the wall. Spread wide open, she was defenseless as he ground against her, the seam line of her jeans making contact with her clit through the thin layer of her thong and she panted hard. So close.

Today I’ve got an excerpt from Viv’s upcoming contemporary romance, Falling, Freestyle. Having read this beauty, I can tell you it’s both hot and sweet, which is a great combination.

“Falling, Freestyle” by Vivian Arend

Read An Excerpt Online
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Red Hots!

ISBN: 978-1-60928-260-8
Length: Category
Price: 4.50
Publication Date: November 30, 2010
Cover art by Angie Waters

Never venture out of bounds without a buddy—preferably two.

Dara’s past four incredible years have been lived to the fullest. Along with her best friends, Kane and Jack, she’s left no local wilderness unexplored, no ski slope unchallenged. Yet lately she wonders why they’ve never seen her as more than a buddy with breasts. When—or if—either man will cross that unspoken line.

It’s a line Kane eyes harder every day. Since high school, he and Jack have shared everything. A condo, vacations—and their best girl. Kane’s ready to get serious about his wilderness school and outfitter business, and that includes putting down roots. Preferably with Dara.

Wary of the men who’ve recently been sniffing around Dara, Jack has a growing sense that he or Kane better make a move soon, or they’re going to lose out on their perfect match. Question is, who does she prefer…and who’s going to bring their easygoing trio to an end?

Overhearing the boys arguing over her, Dara’s floored—and torn. Choose between them? No way. Drastic measures are called for, a plan for their annual holiday getaway that will clarify her feelings once and for all—or lose everything in a sexual storm of whiteout proportions.

Warning: Old friends turned lovers can get into the most trouble—exhibitionism, bondage, spanking. Anal sex, oral sex, unauthorized use of ski safety harnesses, icicles in the hot tub… The author apologizes in advance for any melted monitors.

EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT FROM FALLING, FREESTYLE
Adult Content – Not Safe For Work (Probably)

She held out a book to him before rearranging the towel to cover her assets.

“The Count of Monte Cristo? What the…?”

She growled at him. “No, it’s a fake cover, you ass. You guys are always teasing me about how I’ve been reading that book forever and never done. Well, take a closer look, because it’s not written by Alexandre Dumas.”

Jack carefully peeled back the edge. Kane stepped forward to peer over his shoulder as he revealed a cover with three naked bodies on it.

Kane swore. “Porn? You’ve been reading porn in front of us for years?”

“It’s not porn, it’s erotic romance. And that’s what’s going on. My sex life up to now has consisted of pretty vanilla sex. I’m curious and I just thought if you guys were interested we could…” She swallowed hard before lifting her chin resolutely. “I thought we could try a few things.”

God almighty. Jack rose in a rush and turned his back on her. The scent of her perfume was having a terrible effect on his libido, and the image of her face along with his and Kane’s on the bodies tangled together on the cover of that book—

His cock pressed against his jeans in a state of urgency.

“I’m sorry, I should have said something first, only I was afraid I’d lose my nerve and so I just acted without thinking. If you’re not interested, that’s fine. Forget I even—”

“Not interested?” Kane kicked off his shoes, letting them fly across the room to slam into the front door of the cabin. “Holy shit, Dara, one minute you strip in front of me, the next you suggest your two best friends get involved with you sexually? And then you have the balls to turn around and say forget it?”

She snorted. “Yeah, me and my balls. I’ve got tons of those.”

Jack needed to get this whole situation back under control. It was too close to exploding into something that could tear their friendship apart, and he was sure that wasn’t what Dara had intended.

But he wasn’t sure she’d intended for her suggestion to be anything other than a one-time fling either.

He had already decided once this weekend was over he would slowly bring their relationship to a new level. They were good friends, and he’d always looked out for her, careful never to cross the line sexually. Oh, he’d seen her glimmers of interest toward him, but he’d also caught her checking Kane out with the same expression at times.

Jack wanted her. In his bed, in his life—in his future—and he would do whatever it took to make that a reality.

Including, it seemed, share her.

He returned to her side and cautiously sat beside her on the couch. His body weight made the cushions shift and she leaned against him involuntarily. When she would have scrambled away, he placed an arm around her shoulders and trapped her.

“Just slow down, sweetie. You’ve put both Kane’s and my brain in a bit of bind. We’re not saying no to anything.”

“You’re not?” She whispered the words, her body tense in his embrace.

“We’re not saying yes right off either.”

“Jack…” Kane warned.

He looked up at his best friend. They’d never fooled around with the same woman before, at least not at the same time. And this wasn’t just any woman; it was someone they both cared deeply about. Kane tended to be a lot more private about his sexual practices than Jack had ever expected, maybe from growing up in a house full of women. Still, knowing that Kane desired Dara and cared for her—if he couldn’t have Dara to himself right now, sharing her with Kane while they dealt with this mess seemed the best way out of a bad situation.

“If there are kinky sexual experiences Dara wants to try, you prefer she experiment with us or some nameless guys off the street?”

Dara hit him in the chest. “Yeah, right. Like I’m going to put out an ad in the paper for a threesome, Jack. I’m not an idiot.”

“A threesome?” The flash of lightning her words produced short-circuited his logic center. Every time she spoke she upped the ante. Fuck this. She wanted to have a discussion about them getting it on? Welcome to reality. He picked her up and plopped her into his lap. She squealed for a second, then gripped the top of the towel so hard her knuckles went white. He stroked a finger across her smooth skin above her hands, wondering what she would taste like.

He could barely wait to find out.

“No, you are not an idiot. But you’ve managed to freak me out. Sweetheart, we’ve never kissed beyond platonic busses on the cheek and you’re talking about sex. That does things to a guy.”

She wiggled slightly and there was no way she could miss one of the things that it did to him. His cock was at full strength, pinned behind the taut fabric of his jeans. The curve of her ass pressed down on him and her eyes opened wide as she realized what she sat on. “Fuck.”

“Hell yeah, fuck.” Jack wrapped his arms around her and held her close, breathing in the scent of her skin. She whimpered as he brushed his lips against the pulse pounding in the vee of her throat. He was going to explode just from the thoughts filling his head.

A ménage. With Dara. God damn.

“Jack, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess up our holiday. I just care a lot about—”

He covered her mouth with his to silence her. With her lips open to speak, their tongues met instantly and in a flash her taste filled him. Sweet, with a twist of cinnamon from her gum, the lingering taste of chocolate. He kissed her, leaning back on the couch and dragging her with him so her slight weight pressed on him more fully. She dug her fingers into his hair and suddenly it wasn’t enough. He crushed her closer, the top of the towel sneaking down to her waist as their tongues tangled together. God, the woman could kiss. She took his mouth like she took to the hills, full out, full speed—caution be damned.

The sounds escaping her registered like early warning signs. Little gasps as he nipped at her lips, a long drawn-out moan as he kissed his way down her throat. A whispered plea when he rearranged her on his lap without taking his mouth from her skin. She straddled his hips, the heat of her core resting on top of his erection and damn if he didn’t want to strip them both and let her ride him.

Go slow.

His brain shouted it, but his body protested vehemently. He rocked his hips instinctively, rubbing against her center and they both swore.

Fuck going slow.

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So, I thought I’d pop on over and share a little (still-not-entirely-edited) snippet from our fun, wacky adventure.  Enjoy!    (Really. Because I’m about to enter the Southern Arcana zone where you will hear about that series until you want to whimper for relief!)

Unedited Snippet from Wilder’s Mate
on sale March 1st at Samhain Publishing

They rode into the edges of the border settlement just after noon, and Wilder led them straight to a whorehouse.

Not that it was advertised as such. No, the building looked boring enough on the outside, like a ramshackle hotel that had taken to selling liquor to fill its common room every evening. The clues were in the small things, like the way the damage and poor repair were merely cosmetic, and a closer look revealed that underneath the weathered boards were sturdy walls that would keep out the heat and cold. There was a knack to hiding wealth with squalor, a skill the madams of the border had taken to the heights of artistry. Old paint, crooked signs, tables with one wobbly leg—understandable, since it wasn’t wise for women to appear too prosperous in these times.

Most people wouldn’t notice the subtle signs that a brothel was doing well. Then again, most people hadn’t grown up in one.

Satira dismounted, struggling to hide a wince as she got her feet on solid ground. The discomfort was better and worse today—better because at least she could move a little, but moving certainly hurt more than sitting still. She surreptitiously stretched her legs and almost smiled to think of what Levi would say to her now, his gruff voice exasperated beyond measure. If you can’t walk it off, don’t stand up to begin with.

Wilder, of course, seemed perfectly fine. She pushed down an irrational surge of envy as she tied her horse next to his. “Does one of your contacts work here?” It wasn’t inconceivable, she supposed. Her own mother hadn’t spoken of such things but, if Ophelia was to be believed, whores heard more secrets than any preacher.

He gave her a maddening half-smile she already recognized. “You could say that.”

The front door crashed open, and Satira flinched at the noise as it rebounded against the board wall. A voluptuous woman stepped out, boots creaking on the porch as she shouldered her shotgun and eyed the pair of them.

She was wild. Untamed. Corkscrew curls sat high on her head, held in place by who-knew-what sort of alchemy. She looked old enough to be Satira’s mother, but the body on fine display in her low-cut corset had curves, the sort men never seemed able to tear their eyes away from.

Her shrewd, assessing gaze lingered on Satira, too long for comfort. Then she shifted her attention to Wilder with a throaty laugh. “Wilder, honey, where you been hiding yourself? The girls have been crying into their pillows every night, they surely have, thinking you’d forgotten all about us.”

“Juliet, the day I forget about you will be the day they lay me in the sod.” He removed his hat and offered the woman a playful bow. “I’ve come to ask a favor.”

An unmistakably fond smile curved the woman’s painted lips, and Satira felt the first stirrings of an odd, nearly foreign emotion.

Jealousy.

She fought to keep her expression politely blank, but Juliet’s too-sharp eyes narrowed. Fortunately, she didn’t remark on anything she might have gleaned, just nodded. “Why don’t you round up that poor girl and bring her inside. She looks like she might like to sit a spell on something that isn’t moving.”

Juliet turned and retreated inside, and Satira glanced at Wilder. “Is it safe to leave our things here?”

He shrugged. “Safe enough. If you’re worried, I can fetch your bags.”

Combined incorrectly, some of the contents of her bag could set off a violent explosion that could level a good part of this settlement. After a moment’s thought, she flipped open one pack and dug through the contents until she found her kit, wrapped in one of her shifts. Each chemical was sealed safely in a nearly unbreakable container, but it wouldn’t stop a curious human from twisting off the tops and setting off a catastrophe. “This should stay with me.”

Wilder arched one dark eyebrow. “What the hell is it?”

She slipped the narrow leather strap of the small padded bag over her head. “You might be able to fight your way through a horde of vampires, but I planned to kill them a little more indirectly, if possible.”

“You’re not going to blow up Juliet’s place, are you?”

As if she’d be foolish—or suicidal—enough to ride with the bag behind her if it were liable to explode at any moment. “Not unless someone takes the bag from me, opens up everything inside and starts combining chemicals at random.”

“I meant on purpose.” Again, that wicked smile. “You haven’t seen what I’ve got planned for you.”

The pieces fell into place a moment too late. A whorehouse. A favor.

A disguise.

Juliet’s voice roared from inside the brothel. “Wilder, I told you to bring that girl inside.”

Satira flinched. “I think I might hate you a little.”

“No you don’t, sweetheart. You just wish you did.”

Length: Novella | Rating: Hot | Publisher: Carina Press
Themes: Werewolves, Post-Apocalyptic, Broody Alphas, Witches & Wizards

From the series page:

No one knows when the first vampire came to the United States, but they all remember when their numbers grew so vast that the United States decided to fight back. In 1823 the Bloodhound Guild was founded, turning out warriors blessed with the strength to battle their enemy and the curse of being somewhat less than human.

Sixty years has given the Guild plenty of time to become a fixture in the untamed west. The bloodhounds are all that protect the border territories from the vampires who make the Deadlands their home. It’s a dirty job, but what do you expect from a man who’s more than a little monster?

We tentatively have four books planned (though only the first one is contracted at the moment, so you know what that means–everything changes!)  The setting is a little bit steampunky and a lot wild west, and they’re without a doubt grittier and dirtier than any of the other longer books we’ve done.  (Certainly more so than Southern Arcana or Red Rock!)

The first book, Wilder’s Mate, is is about an unofficial inventor’s apprentice whose mentor is kidnapped by vampires, forcing her to accept a bloodhound’s help in bringing him safely back from the Deadlands.  It’s tentatively scheduled for a March 1st release date from Samhain.

Now, because I think I’m going to start posting excerpts on Sundays, here is a little (unedited! ack, unedited!) taste:

# Unedited Excerpt from Wilder’s Mate #

It wasn’t her friend’s soft hand that reached down and gripped hers. It was a strong hand, tanned and rough, followed by an even rougher voice. “You must be Nate’s little one.”

Damn it all. The bloodhound was early.

He dragged her up to the floor as if she weighed nothing, deftly maneuvering her body so that she didn’t bump her head or scrape her skin on the hot metal. After he set her on her feet, he stepped back to study her through narrowed eyes. “Why are you dressed like a boy?”

If she’d had any feminine pride left, it would have withered under that assessing gaze. He was dark and forbidding, a large man wrapped in the savagery of a hound. Some hid their other natures well, but this one…  Satira met his eyes, and a beast stared back.

Not a man to be trifled with, which made the reply that tumbled free reckless. “Why are you dressed like a man?”

But he only raised one eyebrow in a slow arch. “You’re not going to fool anyone with that getup. You’ve got tits.”

Ophelia smothered a noise that had to be a laugh, and Satira crossed her arms over her chest and glared at her traitorous friend. “You could have warned me he’d arrived.”

“You didn’t exactly ask, did you?”

No, she hadn’t. Not that asking would have done any good. Ophelia would be pleased by the arrival of the one man who could lay waste to Satira’s desperate plan—if she let him.

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Squaring her shoulders, she met the man’s gaze again. “Are you here to go after Nathaniel?”

For some reason, the corner of his mouth twitched. “Let me guess. You want to go with me.”

The sorry bastard was laughing at her. Pride turned her spine to steel as she dropped her arms. Let him stare at her breasts until his eyeballs fell out. “Yes. I know more about Nathaniel’s weapons than anyone else alive. And I can use every damn one of them.”

“I reckon that’s so.” He nodded quickly, just a little, almost as if the gesture had been meant only for himself. “You do what I say when I say it. Got that?”

She’d expected more argument. Bluster, maybe, or to be told to put on a dress and mind her tongue. A fatal mistake, because it meant she still judged him as a man. Ascribing a man’s motives to a bloodhound was a mistake she should know better than to make.

Agreeing to obey one’s orders implicitly was another mistake, but one not so easily avoided. Tense seconds ticked by as she listened to the blood pounding in her ears and wondered if she was foolhardy enough to step across that line, to trigger that savage instinct that would put her completely at a beast’s mercy.

Maybe not, if she hadn’t owed Nathaniel everything. For the man who’d all but raised her, she’d risk her very life. “What you say, when you say it.”

He watched her as if he could read her thoughts. For a moment, she thought he might still say no, but he only held out his hand once again. “My name is Wilder.”

Ophelia watched them both with raised eyebrows and stunned disbelief that would surely break at any moment. Before her friend could protest, Satira reached out and grasped the hound’s hand, any self-consciousness about the work-roughened shape of her hands swallowed by the firm grasp of his callused fingers. “Satira,” she whispered. “I’m Nathaniel’s apprentice.”

Wilder released her. “I know who you are. You’ve got ten minutes to gather whatever you need, or I’m leaving without you.” He tipped his hat to Ophelia as he turned. “Ma’am.”

The blonde stared after him. “He’s letting you go with him.”

There wasn’t time. Satira closed her fingers around Ophelia’s wrist and dragged her toward the broad staircase that led to the second floor and her suite. “Because I’ll be useful. Nathaniel is famous. Infamous. We have the best tools for fighting vampires.”

“That man is the best tool for fighting vampires,” she argued. “You won’t be back before the new moon. Do you have any idea what that means, Tira?”

She stumbled over the first step, but caught her balance with one hand on the banister. “I live under a bloodhound’s roof. Levi might have been old—” The past tense tripped her up for a moment, swept her up on a wave of grief, but she forced it down. Levi had been old, for a hound. His death was sad, but not unexpected. “I know about full moons and new moons. I’m not a fool.”

“So what are you going to do when he starts humping your leg?”

“Ophelia!”

Her friend snorted. “It’s a perfectly valid question.”

They reached the landing, but there wasn’t time to pause and argue the point. Wilder would leave without her, and his mission from the Guild had to be to keep their new technology from falling into vampire hands. She was the only person left who needed Nathaniel alive.

She turned toward her rooms, dragging Ophelia along behind her. “I’m not a virgin, and I’m not puritanical. I’ve bedded hounds before.”

“Not during the new moon.” Ophelia yanked at her hand, forcing her to stop and face her. “Be careful, that’s all I’m saying.”

Her friend’s brown eyes held nothing but desperate worry and too much experience for her tender years. Ophelia never pretended that life as a whore was anything but dangerous, an unglamorous profession that might earn you coin enough to make a life for yourself—if you could hold it together.

Satira’s mother had held it together. Long enough to attract the eye of the bloodhound who bedded her every new moon, more regular than any clock. The beast inside turned men into monsters with the full moon, but a different sort of savagery came to light when the moon fell dark. Sexual hunger. Feral need.

Ophelia would know the answer to the only question Satira dared ask. “Is it violent?” Surely not. Impossible to imagine Levi laying a violent hand on her mother. And yet…

“No, not exactly. Not like—” Ophelia bit her lip. “The physical demands are almost the least of it. Do you understand what I mean?”

Warmth filled her cheeks as she remembered the last bloodhound to take her to bed. A cocky young stranger, new to his power and full of himself and life. He’d still had an edge, an intensity that expressed itself with dark looks and teasing games.  He’d plied her with dominance and control until she was ready to sob from the relief pleasure brought.

Her knees hadn’t worked right for days, and he’d been barely more than a boy. The man waiting downstairs was anything but.

Here’s what a few people have had to say about Crossroads so far…

Our total immersion in all things Southern Arcana continues this week.  We’re gearing up for our Crossroads release festivities, getting ready to send in our partial of book #3 to our editor and have even decided that our Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance 2 story is going to be set in the Southern Arcana world.  The character is a minor one who is only briefly mentioned in Crossroads, though some familiar faces will show up as well.

So what better way to celebrate than an excerpt from Crossroads? I’m posting this one in honor of Tiffany aka KindleVixen, as I know she’s quite a fan.   This excerpt contains adult content.

An excerpt from
Crossroads
Copyright © 2010 Moira Rogers
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Nick’s muscles burned. She had to focus on breathing, on drawing in one gulp of muggy night air after another. That was exactly what she wanted, to occupy her mind with something other than the fact that, one way or another, her sister might die.

Even if she hadn’t heard him, she would have sensed Derek behind her, a warm zing of magic that dovetailed perfectly with her own. He felt solid, right, with his trampling steps echoing hers.

She knew he’d follow her until exhaustion claimed him, if it didn’t take her first. But it was too hot to run for long, and Nick stumbled over a fallen log and tumbled to the ground under an ancient oak tree.

Letting go of the wolf was easier with fatigue quelling her nervousness. Twigs snapped under hands and feet instead of paws, and she collapsed onto a bed of moss, her chest heaving.

Fire. If it had only been the pull of exertion, she could have ignored it. But the change burned through her and scraped her nerve endings into a vicious flurry of arousal. “Derek,” she rasped.

It took him longer to regain human form, but soon enough he crouched at her feet, his muscular chest straining under his panting breaths. He looked massive in the moonlight filtering through the trees, a hulking giant of tanned skin stretched over hard muscles. When he lifted his head, she caught a glimpse of eyes still glinting yellow.

His gaze caught hers and drifted down her body, the stare so blatantly sexual it stole her breath. One hand dropped to her ankle, and his large fingers encircled it easily. “Tell me to stop.”

She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. “No.”

Derek dragged her ankles apart and dropped to his knees between her legs. He tickled his fingers up her calves as he jerked his gaze to hers again. “Put your hands over your head.”

Sheer primal instinct drove her to obey. She licked her lips and exhaled a shuddering breath. “I need you.”

“Not as much as I need you.” His thumb traced along the inside of her knee, a small teasing caress that vanished when he moved his hands to the ground on either side of her hips. He loomed over her, his wide shoulders blocking out the light filtering through the trees.

His expression was wild. Feral. His gaze locked with hers, and he shuddered. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The answer would have been the same even if she hadn’t been aching to feel his skin against hers, even if they hadn’t spent the last few days learning about each other. “With my life.”

A rumbling noise of approval started deep in his chest and escaped his lips as he lowered them to her breast. His tongue circled the tip in a teasing flick, and he drew her nipple into his mouth with another low noise.

Nick tried to stifle the cry that accompanied the sharp rush of pleasure, but it rolled out of her between clenched teeth. Her back arched off the ground, toward his mouth, and she barely remembered not to move her hands.

She felt the scrape of teeth, then the heat of his mouth disappeared. A low, masculine laugh rose as he nuzzled her stomach and dropped tiny kisses on her damp skin. “I can smell how hot you are for me.”

Something witty should have popped to mind, the perfect rejoinder to his soft, sexy words. “I want you so bad it hurts. I always have.”

He dragged his tongue up the center of her chest before veering off to nip at her shoulder. “And now you have me.”

Do I? The words hung in her throat as the throbbing need in her body grew worse. Her skin flamed wherever he touched her, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. “Derek, please.” Her fingers curled into the mossy earth above her head. “Let me have you.”