Serengeti Storm (8 page)

Cullen, her bird sighed with longing. Mine.

Lost in another argument with her animal spirit, she started when he knocked on the door.

“Yes?” she called out.

The knob turned slowly. She hadn’t locked it tonight. Funny he chose this night to visit.

He stepped inside and flicked on the light, dressed in his jeans and nothing else.

Good Lord, I’m in heaven. His sculpted muscles rippled as he moved, his stomach a washboard of temptation that had her fingers itching so badly to touch.

“I wanted to check on your injuries, and to make sure you don’t need anything before I go to sleep.”

She’d gently refused his assistance since he’d patched her up. Sarah could have seen to herself just fine tonight, but a niggling urge to have his hands on her took away any sense of caution. “Uh, okay.”

Cullen sat on the edge of her bed while she answered, apparently planning on helping her whether she wanted him to or not. Excitement, not fear, pulsed in her veins. He pulled the covers down to her waist and shook his head when she moved.

“No, lie there. I’ll do it.” His voice sounded deeper, huskier.

She nodded. He slowly unbuttoned her flannel top from the bottom to just under her breasts. Pushing the material aside, he ran a hot hand over her ribs and the prickle of a scar bruising her belly.

“Looks good.”

Feels incredible. “Oh, uh, right. It’s healing. No problem.” She could barely speak, so absorbed with the warmth bleeding through his palm. Her breasts felt heavy, and her sex pulsed with a need she’d never before felt, not even with Will.

“How about the other one?”

“Other what?”

He rubbed her belly with a caressing touch, so gentle, yet so erotic it was all she could do not to moan her pleasure.

“Your other wound, the one between your, uh, under the last button.” He licked his lips, the motion drawing her attention to that firm, gorgeous mouth. “Sarah?” he asked, his breathing ragged.

She couldn’t think past the need boiling within her. Her inner raptor flailed wildly, wanting to get as close as possible to Cullen Whitefeather. “I don’t know,” she breathed.

Cullen slid the last button free. Her shirt gaped, but didn’t fall apart until he pushed the sides away, baring her breasts.

“Damn,” he rasped, staring not at the slight line on her skin, but on the aching points of her nipples.

“Cullen,” she whispered.

He ran a knuckle over the fading injury. “Almost healed,” he said, brushing the underside of her breasts. “How does it feel?”

“It aches,” she admitted, meaning her breasts, her body, her desire for this man she didn’t really know, but needed with her last breath.

“Yeah,” he agreed and lowered his head. The feel of his mouth over her breast stunned her. And then he sucked on her nipple, and she lost her will to do anything but feel.

He cupped her other breast, kneading and teasing it until she wanted to scream. All the while, he tormented her nipple with small bites and the generous suction of his talented mouth.

She groaned his name when he left her, only to sigh when he lavished her other breast with the same attention. Squirming to relieve the tension in her body, she still wasn’t prepared when he slid a hand beneath the waist of her pajama bottoms.

“Shh, trust me,” he whispered, leaning up to meet her gaze. His eyes were bright gold, blinding in their intensity.

“I do,” she replied with the truth.

When the sun goes down, passion is unleashed

Primal Hunger

© 2009 Sydney Somers

Pendragon Gargoyles, Book 1

Kennedy Beaumont loves her bartending job, even if her spirited nature sometimes gets her in trouble. Like threatening to hose down one of Pendragon’s co-owners. When it comes to Tristan, she could use a good hosing down herself—maybe it’ll help her stop casting him as the star of her wickedest dreams. Since he goes out of his way to avoid her, it ought to be easy to put him out of her head—until he reluctantly offers her a ride home.

Gargoyle shape-shifter Tristan Callaghan hasn’t had time for anything other than recovering the mystical dagger that was used to permanently lock his brother in a prison of stone. The cat inside him should have stopped craving Kennedy’s touch long ago, but now that she’s sitting next to him in his car, his very human need for her is sharper than ever.

The distraction is costly. In a split second, Kennedy finds herself thrust into a dangerous, millennia-old hunt for Excalibur. A hunt that marks her for death—and leaves Tristan with a painful choice—sacrifice his family, his quest…or the one woman meant to be his.

Warning: There’s nothing tame about this alpha male hell-bent on claiming his mate. Featuring bone-melting explicit sex, graphic language, violence and a little harmless bite…or two.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Primal Hunger:

“I still don’t see why we’re not going to the police first.” Kennedy studied him, confusion lingering in her pretty brown eyes.

He jerked the wheel to the right, swerving at the last second to avoid a pothole he would have noticed if he hadn’t been staring at her again. “We’re closer to Cale’s.”

A few minutes later he stopped in front of the gate that kept unwanted visitors—mainly humans—off the property. He frowned at the security console. The number sequence that would open the gate jumbled together in his mind, and the harder he tried to recall the code, the harder his head pounded.

“Problem?”

Not compared to the spider web on her hand, but he didn’t tell her that. Instead, he shook his head and hit the intercom button. Whatever the wraith had used in the darts was still screwing with his head. The mercenary couldn’t have been expecting Tristan would show up to give Kennedy a ride or the darts would have been loaded with something a lot more potent.

Cursing his sister, who should have answered, he stabbed the intercom again. Another minute ticked off, and he gave up, digging out his cell phone this time. When Briana still didn’t answer, he shoved the phone back in his pocket. Reversing back onto the street, he parked the car and climbed out. Kennedy followed suit, glancing around.

“It’s safe.”

She cast him a dubious glance, trailing after him as he walked the front perimeter of the stone wall bordering the property. “This is Cale’s place, right?”

“Last time I checked.” He spotted the tree towering above the wall on the corner of the lot. “Stay right here.”

Her spine snapped straight. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll just be a few seconds. You’re safe. Promise.” Until the wraith tracked her here, but that was one more certainty he didn’t plan on sharing. “I’ll be right back.”

Ducking around the corner, he sprang up—high enough Kennedy would have asked questions—and grabbed the top of the stone wall, pulling himself over. From there he jumped easily into the tree and then back to the front of the wall overlooking the street.

“Give me your hand.”

Kennedy peered up at him. “How did you get up there?”

“Footholds on the other side.”

She stared at his outstretched hand. “I’m sure I can climb it too.”

“This is faster. Unless you’re scared of heights,” he taunted, grinning when she planted one foot on the wall and pushed off, catching his hand.

A burst of warmth exploded up his arm, the sensation tunneling straight to his groin. He tightened his grip and hauled her up the wall.

She grabbed ahold of him when she reached the top to steady herself. “Work out much?”

His grin widened as he savored the feel of her body tucked close to his. Her hand drifted down his arm, but the narrow wall didn’t leave her much room to back away.

“Do you do everything the hard way?”

“This coming from the woman who relies on water hoses to settle disputes at a crowded bar.”

A reluctant smile drew his attention straight to her mouth. He spanned his fingers across her lower back, preventing her from edging away from him. He’d let her go in just a minute, first indulging the cat’s need to touch her. The man, however, wanted a whole lot more. Hours more. Days.

Kennedy shivered. “You’re not still mad about that, are you?”

He shook his head. “But I can’t promise I won’t retaliate the next time.” Because the need to lower his head and run his mouth along the slender curve of her neck threatened to overwhelm him, he nodded to the thick branch extending from the tree. “Ladies first.”

Easing out of reach, she stepped gingerly onto the branch, clinging to the overhead limbs for balance. When she reached the trunk, she moved to another branch and waited for him to climb down first.

The cat wanted to climb higher in the tree and wait for the wraith to make another appearance, but he needed to get her inside first. His feet hit the ground and he reached up to help her down.

“Crap,” she hissed, skidding down the tree.

He should have caught her easily and kept them both upright. Maybe it was the drugs slowing his reflexes, or maybe he wanted to feel her sprawled across his chest when the impact knocked them both to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes widened and she tried sliding off him.

He anchored one arm across her back, keeping her still. “Not really.” He probably wouldn’t be okay for a long time. The closer she got, the more he wanted her there, proving his attraction to Kennedy ran much deeper than he’d imagined.

“You’re bleeding.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, wincing in sympathy.

“Just a scratch.” He barely registered the scrape on his cheek from connecting with the tree bark during the fall. Barely registered anything but all the places she was nestled against him. The only thing better than having her draped across him, would be her draped across him naked.

She stared in the direction of the main house, exposing the tempting curve of her throat.

Tristan didn’t think about it, he lifted his head and closed his mouth over her skin.

Kennedy moaned, and he ran his lips higher, sliding one hand into her hair and coaxing her down. Her thigh slipped between his legs, rubbing his arousal. The friction unleashed a groan in his chest, and he grazed her with his teeth before sucking her harder between his lips.

Why did she feel so good, taste so good? Attempting to wrap his mind around it didn’t matter to the animal basking in the feel of her fingers threading the ends of his hair, dragging him closer.

In the distance a lone howl, then a series of barks echoed through the night, and he tried to remember why that was important.

Fuck. The dogs.

“Oh, shit.” Kennedy scrambled off him, and he rolled to his feet as a pack of Dobermans tore across the grass toward them.

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