Authors: Kristen Callihan
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy
T
h
e
ma
n
b
e
for
e
h
e
r
cr
a
ck
e
d
his
r
a
th
e
r
l
a
rg
e
knuckl
e
s
.
“
We
ll
th
e
n
,
wh
a
t
s
a
ys
you
a
nd
me
get
ours
e
lv
e
s
r
ea
cqu
a
int
e
d
.
”
A
l
a
ugh
e
sc
a
p
e
d
h
e
r
.
I
t
wa
s
th
e
wrong
thing
to
do,
for
it
l
e
t
loos
e
oth
e
r
em
otions
.
G
u
i
l
t
,
r
eg
r
e
t
.
D
o
no
t
d
o
t
h
i
s
.
R
u
n
a
w
a
y
.
W
a
r
n
h
i
m
.
S
e
l
f
-
disgust
sour
e
d
h
e
r
m
outh
.
S
h
e
sw
a
llow
e
d
it
do
w
n
in
th
e
f
a
c
e
of
his
obvious
pl
ea
sur
e
at
th
e
thought
of
hurt
i
ng
h
e
r
.
“
Y
ou
a
r
e
a
f
i
n
e
p
i
e
c
e
,
”
s
h
e
s
a
i
d
t
o
h
i
m
.
“
Y
ou
t
h
i
n
k
i
t
s
o
easy?
T
o
t
ake
wha
t
eve
r
you
wan
t
and
damn
t
he
consequences?
”
H
is
s
m
il
e
curl
e
d
.
I
t
wa
s
an
ugly
thing
,
th
a
t
s
m
il
e.
He
wa
s
a
l
m
ost
w
ithin
touching
dist
a
nc
e.
“
‘
T
is
th
e
wa
y
of
th
e
world
,
kitt
e
n
.
”
Lik
e
a
sn
a
k
e,
h
e
uncoil
e
d
,
gr
a
bbing
h
e
r
by
th
e
e
lbo
w
a
nd
y
a
nking
h
e
r
clos
e.
T
h
e
thick
t
a
ng
of
unw
a
sh
e
d
ma
l
e
a
nd
str
ee
t
living
fill
e
d
h
e
r
nostrils
.
“
C
o
me
now
,
”
h
e
m
ur
m
ur
e
d
,
“b
e
a
good
pussy
,
e
h?
”
He
r
sto
ma
ch
roll
e
d
but
a
sudd
e
n
surg
e
of
d
e
fi
a
nc
e
hit
h
e
r
.
S
h
e
wa
s
th
e
m
onst
e
r
h
e
r
e,
not
h
e
r
st
a
lk
e
r
.
Hea
t
,
n
ee
d
,
a
nd
po
we
r
surg
e
d
w
ithin
h
e
r
.
T
h
e
fir
e
w
a
nt
e
d
out
.
“
I
’ll
giv
e
you
on
e
w
a
rning
.
I
’
m
not
lik
e
oth
e
r
girls
.
I
w
ill
hurt
you
.
B
a
dly
.
”
He
chuck
l
ed.
“
P
r
om
i
se?
”
B
e
for
e
sh
e
could
think
,
h
e
sl
amme
d
h
e
r
a
g
a
inst
th
e
w
a
ll
,
his
for
ea
r
m
pr
e
ssing
into
h
e
r
thro
a
t
,
cutting
off
h
e
r
a
ir
.
S
hock
a
nd
p
a
in
r
e
nd
e
r
e
d
h
e
r
i
mm
obil
e.
He
r
m
outh
w
ork
e
d
open
a
nd
shut
,
try
i
ng
to
scr
eam,
s
ea
rching
for
br
ea
th
.
He
r
g
aze
c
a
ught
th
e
t
a
tt
e
r
e
d
r
em
n
a
nts
of
a
post
e
r
a
dv
e
rtis
eme
nt
for
b
a
th
s
a
lts
as
h
e
w
e
nt
for
h
e
r
skirts
,
j
e
rking
th
em
up
w
ith
eager
fing
e
rs
.
S
h
ame
pull
e
d
at
h
e
r
insid
e
s
.
S
h
e
ought
to
h
a
v
e
run
,
this
wa
s
h
e
r
f
a
u
l
t
.
H
i
s
damp
b
r
ea
t
h
pan
t
ed
ove
r
he
r
neck.
Ano
t
he
r
ha
r
d
t
ug
at
he
r
pe
tti
coa
t
b
r
ough
t
he
r
h
i
ps
aga
i
ns
t
h
i
s,
and
h
i
s
i
n
t
en
ti
ons.
A
ll
at
once,
a
sense
of
he
r
se
lf
fl
ooded
back
t
o
t
he
f
o
r
e,
and
w
it
h
it
,
he
r
r
age.
M
ir
anda
c
l
u
t
ched
h
i
s
coa
t
s
l
eeve.
A
p
i
nch
of
some
t
h
i
ng
li
ke
pa
i
n
bu
t
ti
nged
w
it
h
p
l
easu
r
e
ri
pp
l
ed
down
he
r
fi
nge
r
s.
Ins
t
an
t
l
y,
fir
e
caugh
t
ho
l
d
of
t
he
g
r
easy
woo
l
of
h
i
s
s
l
eeve.
I
t
li
cked
up
h
i
s
coa
t
w
it
h
a
h
i
ss.