Sanibel Sizzle - Vampire Werewolf Menage

BOOK: Sanibel Sizzle - Vampire Werewolf Menage
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Sanibel Sizzle

Vampire Werewolf
Ménage

Fanged Romance Series Book Three

Talyn Scott

 

 

 

B
ooks in this ménage series:

Sanibel Heat Fanged Romance Book 1

Sanibel Burn Fanged Romance Book 2

Sanibel Sizzle Fanged Romance Book 3

 

 

 

 

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ww.talynscott.com

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books
are not transferable.  They cannot be sold, shared, or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.  This book is a work of fiction.  The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be viewed as real.  Any resemblance to person, living or dead, locale or organizations, actual events is purely coincidental.

All rights are reserved.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

Copyright© 2012 Talyn Scott - All Rights Reserved and Protected Worldwide.

 

 

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1

Weremisma
Scotland

Ciaran fought
like he fucked, darkly intense and
wildly barbaric while proudly wielding hardened steel with single intent. Under the thinly concealed cracks of
the Scottish werewolf monarchy
laid the redeeming balm to the commoners’ souls.

A savage.

A demon.

A  liberator
.

The uncrowned Alpha arrived
.

No
t an
ambush
well
cloaked in darkness, but a highly emboldened insurgency that cent
ered high-noon awash in the heat
of the sun.  His army led on.  To his simple pleasure, his greatest ability was his greatest weakness:  live to fight or live to die.  A le
sson from his father, he knew
all too well; it drummed on, beating with Ciaran’s thousand-year-old heart. 

To his utmos
t shock, his heart
was
suddenly
a
live again, passionate
and possessive.
  Unfamiliar sensations
stirred that hadn’t for hundreds of years.   Still, he refused to acknowl
edge the real meaning behind it and
buried it as far as it would go.
But
admittedly, it had nothing to do with this or any other
recent
batt
le.  Carnal lust replaced bloodlust
.
And n
ot just for any female he chose. 
His beast
singled
out one, and his heart started following
without any consent from him.

Damn it
to hell
.

When
bodies dropped, one by one, two by two, tens by tens, hundreds by hundreds, he shouted, “Enough!”  Staring down from his mag
nificent black beast, a thoroughbred
suitably
bred
for the deadliest of were
wolves
– one Ciaran didn’t need but felt it made a statement
-
he challenged those
who
remained stan
ding
.
  “Sh
all we go on?  Shall we
continue to
kill
?  Look around you.”  Ci
rcling his jewel-encrusted claymore
over his
head,
he warned all as the
blood dripped down
, streaming the sinew of his heavily muscled forearm. “In this bath of blood
lie
your kin, your friends, your neighbors,
and
your lovers, all due to
the wicked leaders you’ve secreted away from my eyes.”

Stilling his heavy sword, his father’s greatest gift, it rose above his darkened head.   Meeting stern eyes with those males in the forefront, his voice rang out, deeply baritone and ba
cked with an unwavering promise.
“The true Alpha I am.  I harm
not your children, nor your females,
as they will live in comfort that I’ll provide. 
My question to each will be:  Will you?  Will
yo
u choose life this day?  Put aside
everything
you
thought was true, everything
your clan
necessitated as being genuine, everything that matters the most to your wolves, will you continue a happy existence with your mated females and precious younglings with quiet peace for generations to come?  Are you cowards not to make things right once more?”

No one spoke.  

Glowering a
t each male who had the supreme
foolishness
to raise his chin in
de
fiance
, Ciaran
lowered his voice to a mere whisper.   Chills ensued, erupting gooseflesh amid the strongest, as he took a vow not even the angel of death could make:   Bring me your Alpha, your Beta, and their guard, as I take back what is my right by birth.  If this i
s not so by the morrow’s
eve
, I unleash
my
Habalines.”

Stunned
gasps left those who stood. 
Surprises
, Ciaran thought, were best when delivered not received.  And this one would change every life in Scotland’s pack, including his. 

Glancing behind, s
he was there, alive.  Head down and covered in si
mple cloth, body roped and tied. S
he nervously sat high upon a grey Shire secured in front of his
old friend and
newly appointed Beta.
With legs visibly trembling, n
o d
o
ubt, she prayed for her life. Ciaran
couldn’t blame her there. He would
,
too.
H
er youth and inexperience were two reasons she was completely covered.  She heard the battle, but hadn’t witnessed it. A small concession, but hopefully she would sleep this night.

Then again, he wasn’t
supposed
to care.
 

She
was scheduled for execution by his very hand.
 
A date he had yet to set
.
  So he told his stubborn heart
and maddening
Alpha
beast
it was pointless to argue.  What’s vowed is vowed.  Move on.

Still, a third reason headed
the two.  Habaline
mixed blood
shifters, his actual army, were well hidden in the midst on standby, waiting for any further signals from Ciaran.  Over the years, many were
concealed
away and bred for revival, yet most
resulting
offspring had never even touched a
single
female.   Sadly, there were minimal females to be had in their hidden world.  Earlier at Ciaran’s first fort, right before his ancient eyes, a grou
p of shifters crazed lustily
for the frightened lass.

He ordered her covered immediately.

So
he had to admit that
it wasn’t a wise move bringing a bonny sweeting, such as Renee Shirley,
through the throngs of sex-
deprived shifters.  Unbeknownst to Ciaran, he openly paraded a fire-headed goddess and stoked unbearable temptation for
every single
male under his rule, and
then some.  By their open pain and hardened bodies, unbearab
le was the understatement of this
century.

Bloody hell, males
of all species
have
needs, and the shifters
were no different

Panting they were, shifting to anything that would ge
t Renee’s
undivided attention while fighting one another for
first rights to mate.  Begging
to tas
te her sweetness, who
could blame them? 

It didn’t mean Ciaran liked it.  

He
was never slow to learn a lesson – a
detail
that kept Ciaran
alive for centuries.  From then forwar
d
, the Shirley lass remained veiled.  Although her decadent scent encompassed miles, personally nailed
him
like a falling anvil on his heavy sack, no one could see the
flawlessness
of her body.  It would
have to do.
His
males
needed their concentration back and
centered on the war ahead with full faculties intact.

Her covering had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that she
simply
sho
uldn’t be admired
by any other
male. 
Ciaran was not jealous.
  N
ot
.
At.
A
ll.
  Willing females would
soon
be housed in the castle, a simple fix
. Then all unmated males would
forget her.

Just as he would.

Raising
his sword skyward
,
refocusing on the
task, his
battle cry warned the blood-drenched village.  He was back.  Rebel against him, challenge his Alpha status, eat at his table, sleep under his roof,
or
fuck hi
m for the night, he didn’t care.
  Redundant
sensations blended for years.  What stood before him was what mattered most:  Castle Weremisma.

At last, h
e was home. 

As his father before him, he finally ruled
, took his place so long ago denied
.
  Onward with his
head held hi
gh as
a hint
o
f
a
smile touched
his sculptured
mouth.  
T
his
is
for you Da.
  “I claim Castle Weremisma once more!”

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