Were-Devils' Revenge [Were-Devils of Tasmania 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

Were-Devils of Tasmania 2

Were-Devils’ Revenge

A curse from a doomed love torn apart by war and bigotry looks set to rebound, as Mac and Mitch Mortimer, two were-devils, are intent on exacting revenge for their dying sister against an ancient order of ghost vampires who infected her.

On ghost territory in tropical Queensland, they come up against more than they bargain for—close encounters with the ghosts, a gathering of the ghost clan, and a matriarch with attitude, to say nothing of the feisty Gabriella Vitali, who they have both fallen for before they realize she’s one of the enemy.

Gabriella in turn finds herself torn between loyalty to her family and her love for two men from the enemy clan who are threatening to kill those she loves. As prophesized, they are each faced with a choice that will either help end the curse or ensure it reverberates through generations to come. Will revenge or love triumph?

Genre:
Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter

Length:
30,736 words
 

Were-Devils of Tasmania 2

Simone Sinna

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

WERE-DEVILS’ REVENGE

Copyright © 2013 by Simone Sinna

E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-133-6

First E-book Publication: January 2013

Cover design by Christine Kirchoff

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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Were-Devils’ Revenge
 by Simone Sinna from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

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To the scientists who are dedicated to helping the endangered species around the world.

WERE-DEVILS’ REVENGE

Were-Devils of Tasmania 2

SIMONE SINNA

Copyright © 2013

Queensland, Australia, Present Day

Gabriella Vitali had a problem. The supermarket had delivered the entire order at once, rather than keeping the refrigerator items separate for the late delivery when she had the helicopter booked. Now, dinner for the entire resort was in danger of melting on the dock. The oyster shells were glistening in the sun, and it was only 8:00 a.m. The weather forecast was for brilliant blue skies and eighty degrees, so no help there.

Pete, standing on the boat, pushed his cap back and looked up at her.

“Bit of a fuckup really.”

That was an understatement. Not only had the suppliers delivered everything early, her two able-bodied helpers had gone AWOL. The call of the surf, they had told Pete. Gabriella made a note to blacklist them. It would take her and Pete at least two hours to get it all on board.

“Let’s at least see if we can get the oysters in the fridge,” said Gabriella, bending over to pick up a crate. Behind her she heard a long, low whistle. She probably should not have bent over. Her shorts were at best skimpy. She stood up and turned around, glaring. Ten yards away, leaning on another boat were two men enjoying the view.

The taller of the two, the one with a cocky expression and long, black hair swept back and curling at the back of his neck, smiled at her. The other, with the short cropped hair, was maybe an inch or two shorter and just as hot, T-shirt straining over biceps and pecs that suggested significant dedication at the gym. He had the grace to look embarrassed.

“You boys just training to be assholes or are you able to put those muscles to work?” Gabriella tossed her unruly, dark-red curls over her shoulder and looked directly at them.

The bodybuilder grinned. “Think that’s my cue,” he said. “Feel free to join me, bro.”

So they were brothers?
Gabriella didn’t think white men called themselves bro unless they really were brothers, but then there was something unusual about these two that she couldn’t quite pick.

“Pay is twenty dollars an hour,” she said, aware that the long-haired Lothario deliberately brushed his arm past hers as he bent down to get a box.

“Do we get to do more than move boxes?” Lothario asked, eyes on her and mouth flickering in amusement.
Damn.
She should be thinking about slapping him, so how come she suddenly wondered what it would like to kiss those lips? He seemed to read her mind, and the smile broadened. In the same instant, she realized what was unusual. She was so used to men’s baser thoughts that she automatically blocked them. But now that she was trying to look into his head, she couldn’t. She turned away quickly, not sure what to make of it.

“Are you looking for jobs?”

“Maybe,” said the bodybuilder.

Gabriella turned back to them. “I’m the assistant resort manager at Dream-maker. Feel free to send me your resumes.”

With that she left them to the packing while she made a phone call to tell her suppliers she wasn’t going to pay.

* * * *

Tasmania, Australia, a Week Earlier

Mac was bored. Really bored. For the first time, even his job wasn’t inspiring him. In fact the brats from one of his classes needed a good spanking. Trouble was that half of them would think that was a great idea and line up for it, so long as he was doing the honors. He was getting sick of love-struck teenagers thinking that he really cared if they hitched their gym tunics up so high you could see their underwear. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women—on the contrary. But he liked women, not schoolgirls. Maybe it was time to take a job at a boys’ school so he could concentrate on teaching.

Mitch read his mind. Throwing a weight at his brother, he moved to the bench press.

Mac caught the weight effortlessly.
“Shut up.”

Mitch grinned. “But you need a woman, little brother,” he said. “It’s been too long between samples.”

“Which is more than I can say for you,” replied Mac dryly. “Little” brother he wasn’t. People at the gym called him Big Mac. A couple of inches shorter at just under six foot, true, but he would be at the gym long after Mitch left, working on the muscle breadth which was in abundance compared to Mitch’s wiry frame. “Are you still with Finola or was that last week’s?”

“Finola was ages ago,” said Mitch. “Right now there’s this hot chick down at the…”

But Mac wasn’t listening. Mac sent his brother the message wordlessly. Danger. Mac sat up, grabbed his towel, and wiped his face, eyes never leaving Mitch’s. Mac was better attuned than his brother and more focused.

“Melody.” Mac didn’t have to say any more. Melody, their sister, was calling them. Rare enough at any time, and not ever something to be ignored.

“Where is she?” Mitch asked as they threw on their jackets.

The answer that had come to Mac was almost as mystifying as the call. “Auntie Kate’s.”

Auntie Kate wasn’t their aunt at all, rather the name of a shop, and its owner who was a type of honorary aunt to all the Tarrabah clan. Though she was now in Hobart, not far from the gym, rather than the northeast wilds of Tarrabah, she still kept in touch with them all. Melody, too, it seemed.

Outside the wind was howling. They didn’t bother with the car, taking off at a sprint. Even if they hadn’t already been warmed up, the weather wouldn’t have bothered them. Mitch was faster, the marathon runner, the climber and sailor. Mac was the diver, boxer, and martial arts expert. Both were in good enough condition that they were barely breathing any harder as they came close to the docks where Auntie Kate’s shop was tucked in between sandstone buildings.

Mac pulled up short of their destination. A few paces farther on, Mitch, seeming to sense his brother’s reticence, stopped, too.

It was dusk, and the streetlights were already on, shining through the fine rain which the wind tossed about them. No one was on the street. Mac looked sharply over to his right where parklands held avenues of thick-branched trees with knotted trunks. Brown leaves were deep on the ground. He tilted his head slightly, and they both moved stealthily across the road behind cars.

Then Mac was aware his senses were tingling. Destroyers. The name came to his mind even though he had never seen one. He knew more than he cared to about them. Mitch took one tree and he the other. Both had transformed by the time they hit the first branch, their dark fur and white streaks blending in with the trunk so that they were all but invisible. Mitch almost got him, the translucent, white figure that took off out of the tree just in time. The ghost rose, wingspan vast, as green eyes stared back down at them both, laughing as he disappeared into the mist.