Eye of the Beholder (20 page)

If she thought they’d take it, she’d make them Pack in a heartbeat. She missed having that connection, the knowledge that there were others for her to rely on without a shadow of a doubt. Part of her wondered if her dipshit ex had ever told his father the truth, or if he’d shrugged and let it go. Let her go.

Tabby shook her head and reached for her hairbrush, smoothing down her hair. That didn’t matter now. Her mate would be here any minute. She slicked on some berry gloss and stared at herself in the mirror. Then she stuck out her tongue and made a face. She was so nervous, her Wolf was whining. She slipped her feet into the red high heels, grabbed her favorite purse and headed for the living room. “Well?”

Cyn circled her finger. “Twirl.”

Tabby twirled.

Glory wolf-whistled. “See you at work tomorrow.”

Cyn snickered and threw a bunch of condoms at her. “You’ll need these.”

Tabby swallowed. “I’m gonna throw up.” Nausea roiled in her belly. She bent and picked up the condoms just as the doorbell rang.

Glory had the door open before Tabby could hide the packets. “C’mon in!”

In stepped the hottie from the store. He wore a green shirt that really emphasized his hazel eyes, dark wash jeans that looked painted onto his thighs and thick-soled black boots. Now that she was upright, she could see how tall he was. He towered over her, the top of her head barely reaching his upper lip, even in her four-inch heels. She’d hit his chin in her bare feet. His bald head gleamed, his jaw clean-shaven. She could see the tattoo that circled his biceps and her fingers itched to trace the design. In his hand, he held a daffodil.

My favorite flower. How did he know? Tabby smiled, knowing her mouth was trembling. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had given her flowers. “For me?”

He held it out, a smile on his full lips. “Hello, Tabby.”

“Thank you.” She reached for the daffodil.

He coughed. “I’ll take those.” He reached over and removed the condoms from her hand, grinning at her embarrassed squawk. “It’s okay, honey. I’m just glad one of us is, um, prepared.” He eyed the condoms. “Very prepared.” He unrolled them, one eyebrow rising in disbelief. “And optimistic.”

Glory was practically doubled over with laughter. Tabby’s face was beet red. She snatched the condoms back with her free hand, snarling as one got left behind in his big paw. She could hear Cyn snuffling and snorting behind her and just knew they were practically choking on their laughter.

She turned to her two roommates with a smile. “Don’t make me forget I’m housebroken.” They stopped, but from the way they were clinging together, Tabby figured it was only a matter of time before one of them broke again. She turned back to her new mate. “And you, whose name I don’t even know.” She smiled at Mr. Chocolate. “Thank you for the flower. My name’s Tabitha Garwood.”

Mr. Sin held out his paw, the condom miraculously gone. “Bunny.” She wondered if he’d dropped it or shoved it into his pocket for later.

Wait. “Bunny,” she repeated carefully.

“Alexander Bunsun, but everyone calls me Bunny.” He grinned.

She sniffed. Nope, his scent is definitely Bear.

“Are you laughing at my name?” Bunny’s hands went to his hips, but she could tell he wasn’t pissed by the way his lips quirked up.

She blinked. “Yes.”

He coughed, but she could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Dinner?” He held out his arm.

She gave him her sweetest smile and took it. “Yes.”

“Hold on.” Glory stopped them by placing her hand on Bunny’s arm, her expression worried. For all that Glory liked to flirt like mad, when it came down to actual dating she could be a real worrywart.

Bunny chucked her under the chin. “I’ll take care of her. My word on it.”

Glory studied him, and Bunny stood still, allowing her intense scrutiny. Glory relaxed and nodded, looking relieved. Tabby wasn’t sure she felt the same.

Cupid: The ultimate god of love? Or the ultimate cad?

Utter Cupidity

© 2008 Toni Meilleur

Cupid’s philandering and partying has finally caught up with him, giving the Olympian Council the opening they’ve been waiting for to make the irresponsible god prove he’s still competent in his job. For his punishment, the Council gives Cupid one straightforward assignment—to get a mortal to marry him. In one month.

There are only three rules to this deceptively simple task. Rule #1: The Council chooses the woman. Rule #2: He cannot use any of his natural abilities as a god to seduce her. And the hardest one of them all, Rule #3: He cannot lie to her.

When Brea Saunders is forced to work with a cocky-but-gorgeous art dealer, she can’t get away from the silver-tongued charmer fast enough. No matter how hard he tries, she’s determined never to give her heart to any man, ever again.

It will take all Cupid’s cunning and natural seduction to get the quick-tempered, man-hating, celibate beauty to fall for his charms in so short a time.

If he fails? He will be stripped of his powers—and his immortality.

Warning: This title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Utter Cupidity:

“This isn’t about just sex between you and me, Brea. I need to show you that.” He grabbed the end of the belt of her robe and pulled it slowly, giving Brea time to protest. She kept her eyes glued to the ties coming undone. When the tie was undone he parted the robe, displaying her body for his viewing feast.

Brea blushed as if she were some sort of virgin. But she knew him. Her body remembered Jordan well, and reacted strongly. He mimicked her behavior and slid the robe off her slender shoulders, until she stood naked before him. His eyes missed nothing.

“Before, when you and I were together I didn’t get a chance to just savor your beauty. Please, allow me,” he said low, staring at her.

His eyes took in everything, the soft swell of her stomach, to the well-toned legs. Her nipples were already peaked from his stare alone. He walked around her, quite comfortable in his nakedness. He ran gentle fingers across the firm swelling of her plump backside. “Your beauty is like insanity, driving men to desperate measures just to be with you,” he seemed to say to himself as he made his way back where he’d started.

“And you, Jordan?” Brea found her boldness returning at his words.

“That’s easy. I was lost the moment I set eyes on you,” he said frankly.

“You stand there and look at me as if you want to throw me down and devour me. Yet you say no sex tonight. What else is there?” she queried.

Brea had no idea she was with the god of desire. The one being in the world who knew everything about physical pleasure. For not only did he inspire desire, he
was
desire incarnate. She was now on his playground. Cupid grinned at her, his smile alone made her realize that there was so much about him that she didn’t know. He was the mold that bad boys were made from.

He pushed her back until she fell across the bed. “Better question, can you handle the ‘what else’?”

He’ll stop at nothing to claim her… If she doesn’t kill him first.

Primal Attraction

© 2010 Sydney Somers

Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 2

A lethal huntress, Sorcha lives to track and eliminate rogue immortals—until her latest assignment turns out to be a sexy, gargoyle shape-shifter. From the start she’s shaken by the lust his touch awakens inside her. Not only that, but the cat is convinced she’s his mate, and for the first time, she’s unable to kill her target.

Still mourning the loss of his mate, Cale is stunned to find Sorcha alive. Yet the woman he aches to possess doesn’t recognize him and is after the only thing that will save his brother—a mystical weapon that will lead to Excalibur.

Determined to protect his family and reclaim his mate, Cale ruthlessly takes advantage of Sorcha’s one weakness—her desire for him. Desire that could unlock their past…or cause him to lose her all over again.

Warning: Featuring a sarcastic, ass-kicking heroine going toe-to-toe with the stubborn shifter who’s dead set on reclaiming his mate. Also contains graphic violence, death-threat foreplay and scorching sex that will make you roll over and purr.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Primal Attraction:

Sorcha arched a brow, her pointed gaze slipping past him to the stack of towels folded neatly on the shelf.

He shook his head, too content with thinking about stripping her down and getting her wet—without or without using the shower—to move.

She simply shrugged when he didn’t reach for a towel to cover up. He wanted her to look, wanted her to know exactly what being this close to her did to him. Most of all, he wanted to see the rise of color in her cheeks as her own arousal increased.

She crossed her arms, and he’d bet Pendragon’s that it was to hide how hard her nipples were. “It’s sunrise.”

“And?”

“Shouldn’t you be a few tons heavier by now?”

“No.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re a gargoyle. All you cats, wolves and dragons turn to stone during the day. Part of Rhiannon’s punishment for letting the big guy down.”

“Rhiannon punished every immortal involved in the fight for Camelot. Not just the gargoyles.” The wraith Cale always believed had killed Sorcha had once been a Knight of the Round Table. Not even those most loyal to Arthur had escaped Rhiannon’s fury after her son’s defeat.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re not hanging off the edge of a roof somewhere looking all gothic and toothy.”

“Unless severely wounded, mated gargoyles can control the shift to stone.”

It took a few seconds for her to catch on. “I am
not
your…” she broke off, scowling.

“Mate?” he provided. “Is that what you’re trying
not
to say?” He closed the distance between them, careful not to move too quickly.

She looked more bored than threatened by his proximity but for the faint hitch of her breath when his thigh bumped her knees. Innocent enough, the brush of skin against skin twisted his insides up.

Holding her gaze, he leaned in and breathed deep, letting her scent wrap around him.

“Contrary to what you might have heard, I’m not big into sniffing.”

Cale grinned. Whatever had happened since he’d lost her, it hadn’t changed her sarcastic nature. Since she didn’t push him back or ease away from him, he decided to push a little harder. Whatever it took to help her remember.

He wrapped the ends of her hair around his finger. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the cat’s need to touch her, and it certainly wasn’t enough to satisfy the man’s need to piece together how she’d come back to him, but it was something.

She glanced at the strands coiled around his thumb. “Are you trying to groom me?”

“Trying to kiss you actually, just working up the nerve.” He waited for her to tell him to back off, and when she remained silent, he nuzzled her hair. “You’re not armed, are you?”

“Worried my sword is bigger than yours, tiger?”

He laughed, the sound of it taking him by surprise. How long had it been since he’d had a reason to really laugh? Too long. “Isn’t there a saying that size doesn’t matter?”

“That’s just what human women say to men with fragile egos.”

“Do you have a comeback for everything, mate?”

Sorcha tensed, leaned away from him. Her eyes searched his. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one you lost. I’m not
her
.”

“You’re not you?”

“I don’t know why you think…” Her voice trailed off as she stared at his chest. Her fingers curled around the pendant he wore. “Where did you get this?”

He glimpsed uncertainty in her eyes for the first time, and some of the pressure on his chest started to ease. “You gave it to me.”

She shook her head.

“It was—”

“My brother’s,” she finished. She turned it over in her hand, tracing the fine lines carved into the back of the stone.

The more she tugged the chain to get a better look, the closer he came to her mouth. It took much too long for her to notice.

She raised her head in small degrees, as though she knew exactly how close his mouth was. Her bottom lip whispered across his, and his eyes slammed shut. He tightened his finger around her hair, grappling for control, and failing. She’d never been intimidated by him before, but he couldn’t tamp down the fear he’d chase her off if he pressed her back against the mirror and took her mouth the way he needed to.

Screw it
.

Sinking one hand into her hair, he slanted his mouth across hers, skipping slow and soft and jumping right into hard and hungry.

One of them groaned and then something smashed to the floor. He was too busy pushing deeper between her lips to care. Sweet and damp, her tongue slipped across his, and then she was sucking his bottom lip.

Sweet Avalon.

She leaned back, her hold on the pendant dragging him closer. And when she wrapped her legs around him, fitting him snug between her legs, his cock pressed against her sex.

All coherent thought evaporated with a single rock of her hips.

“Again,” he growled, flattening his hand on the mirror behind her for leverage.

Sorcha smiled against his mouth. “Been awhile, huh?” She didn’t give him time to answer, or even
think
of one. Her hand slid down his chest. One lone finger traced a snaking path to his groin.

“What happened to trying to kill me, huntress?” He intentionally emphasized the last word. As much as he wanted to think she’d come here because of him, because she felt their bond even if she didn’t remember him, he knew better. She’d come for the dagger.

He had no problem using that to keep her close. After spending the last eighty years without her, he’d do anything to hold on to her. Anything but give her the dagger. Not until he figured out how to use it to free his brother first, and not until she remembered their past.

“There’s more than one way to take a man out at the knees.”