Skhye Moncrief's Psychic Werewolves Rock!

Sexual espionage never got any deadlier! Book 2: FERAL FLAW



Psychic werewolves are saving the universe. And they're recruiting...

Read chapter 1 Skhye Moncrief Books to learn how to avoid being inducted into the war!

Of course, you might be gungho about joining the Blood Wars...
Do you have what it takes to become an elite were-assassin? Run through this checklist to determine if you've got the right stuff to keep Earth safe from the evil emperor's reign of mind control:

1. Are you into that legendary conflict between werewolves and vampires?
2. Do you think--deep down inside in an intuitive, rather instinctual way--that something is going to happen on Winter Solstice 2012? (You aren't alone. Many cultures around the world think something's going down... And the universe's free thinkers are determined to see it doesn't happen.)
3. Can you read minds, levitate objects, remote view, heal with your touch, sense truth with your gut, etc.?
4. Have you been told you are ADHD or a labeled a Violet Child?
5. Have you experienced lost time or alien-abduction nightmares?
6. Are you drawn to blood as if the substance somehow inherently exuded power?
7. Are you into Gothic anything?

If you answer yes to any of these points, read up on the Blood Wars.



Blurb:

As the Blood Wars between psychic werewolves and vampires continue, Commander Goro’s deepest desire, his love, his promised mate, is taken from him in the worst possible manner. He learns she’s given birth to his arch enemy’s child, a deadly rumor for both his honor and her life. If he discovers she’s a sex spy, he’ll have to kill her. Now they must mate to disprove the rumor of sexual espionage. Although he’d postponed that moment of divine completion bonding their bodies through mystic sex and blood exchange to safeguard her from the treacherous game of manipulation—a game he and his intended play with everyone aboard his starship, he has no choice but to mate. Just one problem stands in his way…

Psychokinetic earthling Crazy Darla, manipulator extraordinaire unequaled by none other than Goro, realizes the only way to survive the rumored lie is to run for her life. But there was always something more in her motives than fantasies of delicious sex with the man she’s craved for years. Even though those motives felt carnal. Something else, pure and, perhaps, metaphysical haunted her. Perhaps in his goddess, Destiny? She had to believe in those feelings of love. But to trust is to show weakness in handing over one’s fate to another who just might ritually disembowel you.

Who is playing whom in the battle of masterminds? Sexual espionage never got any deadlier. With the secret baby, bounty hunters, an entrancing crystal, and a space opera between werewolves and vampires forcing Goro and Darla into dark secluded corners, pushing them into carnal sexual interludes and dangerous blood exchanges fueled by the frenzied blood lust of were-mates, the future holds both promises and lies in the psychic war. And one wrong move means you’ve succumbed to the deadliest thing in the universe, your FERAL FLAW.

Excerpt: (heroine detained as slave on slaver ship)

Another blast thundered.

Shrapnel shot across the room.

Bits flew between the bars of my cell like a dust cloud mushrooming to choke oxygen from the space. The billowing debris spat out a dark male humanoid with long flowing black hair.

In the way he clubbed the Crellons, nobody needed to guess whether he was a Crellon himself. Unless he was a jilted lover. Now, that was a possibility. Who else would enter this sexually-transmitted-disease-coated tub without disinfectant? This disgusting spacecraft had to be tagged with some sort of marking that warned normal extraterrestrials to stay away or risk infection.

All the Crellons stopped moving where they were sprawled out on the floor.

Were they dead? Three cheers for the humanoid tank.

The warrior with the long hair disarmed the Crellon bodies, taking objects similar to the one that I held, then hunted around the control panel beyond the whirling smoke tendrils.

My creaking cell door popped open.

Does he know I’m here or my identity? Was he releasing me or capturing me to exchange for the bounty? In the end, nothing could be worse than being captive by Crellons.

The man turned to me and walked lazily through the lingering haze he’d created.

Step by casual step. All muscles.

Something about him looked familiar. Maybe it was the way he walked. Or his mercenary-style black leather?

“You’re free, Darla.”

That deep patient almost threatening whisper of a voice sent chills down my spine. Like I thought I’d ever hear Goro speak again.

My heart hammered as I stared at the strangely improved Goro. He was unbelievably gorgeous. Wild. And he’d blown his way aboard to save me. Or to recapture me to return me to The Cause for trial as a traitor. He’d beaten the Crellons unconscious in the process. What do I do? Run? Or kiss him for saving me? How am I going to keep from throwing my arms around him?

He strode to the cell’s entrance and halted.

And stared. He was so different now. So uninhibited with his long hair. Without his standard black jacket-like cape, in his leather vest and pants he was equally formidable. Rugged.

My knees wobbled.

Take care, Darla. He’s trouble. There’s a good half of the universe out there questioning your allegiance. But this beastly barbarian was much more than the neatly-suited commander. What else had changed? “Goro?”
He nodded.

Just once was all he chose to gift me. Enough to see those orange eyes from a different angle. The same smoldering eyes sparking with fire. Just whose cause had he come to rescue me for? Who could turn away from the sheen on his sweaty muscles and the fireworks in his eyes? What a barbarian on steroids.


He could drag me anywhere by the hair.

Why did take me now block every thought in my mind? Crazy Darla, think of something to save my ass. “So much time had passed. I figured I had been left to the Crellons. Especially after the rumor started.”

“Come out, Darla. We must leave now.”

What a temptation magnet. But this ship was so n-a-s-t-y. Entering the realm of STDs was far more risky than patiently awaiting death by starvation isolated in a lovely somewhat-sterile cell. And who knew how deadly extraterrestrial STDs were.

His black eyebrows flat lined. “We won’t be staying. I want to lock these fools up before we depart though. So, please clear the containment cell.”

He sounded so normal. But his unruly look would do me in. What else can I do? I’ve got to play along and wait for another window of opportunity. Be smart. Stay on my toes. I strode through the bars, careful not to touch anything, and stepped through a layer of crunching ship pieces covering the floor until I stood beside the hole where the door he blasted away once opened and closed.

The sound of dragging bodies whispered how Goro stashed the Crellon lovers in their very own precious honeymoon cabin.

Oh to bolt to my pod fighter and get the heck out of this crab-infested-venereal-disease nightmare. Wherever the spacecraft was. After waking up from the sleeping gas incident behind bars, leaving the containment area never proved wise. I have no idea where my pod fighter was.

Goro did. He knew all about this universe. The man was my ticket back home. But what did he want? And why the change in hairstyles all of a sudden? Did he hit some crazy phase of life where men from his world sprout long locks?

Oh to run my fingers through the symbol of his new phase of life. I almost turned to read clues in his facial expression. But then I’d have to struggle with my renewed attraction to him. Not good since I just needed to climb up through the deepest rungs of Hell to find my way back to Earth. Or some kind of normalcy.

And nothing about Goro looked normal. He needed to just grab me by the ponytail. Drag me off. Take advantage of me. Goro now had the raw appearance of a man with no inhibitions. Thank the stars he grew up. And who didn’t want a big tough guy ready to defend or pounce her? That’s if he intended to pounce. I’ve got to play this game right. Whether Goro believes it or not, I still have my virginity bartering chip. And this hunk of a genius knew how to use a pod fighter.

Brains, brawn, and sex appeal.

What a hero.

Look out, universe. I get a chance at him first. Okay, maybe a second chance. And he probably knows where my pod fighter is.

A clank noted the cell door’s lock was engaged.

Goro’s form halted beside me, in the doorframe.

Correction, inside the blast-hole’s edge of raw sharp metal. If Goro wasn’t careful, he’d scratch up all those bulging arm muscles. Talk about a tragedy when all a girl wanted to do was rub her palms over all of that hot supple iron. Mold it into a new groaning moaning twisted mass of uncontrolled cooperative male.

Oh the power of a few dirty movies. I was such an impressionable teen.

“Let’s take the pod fighters, Darla. Command yours to match my moves. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Yeah. Yeah. Don’t lose the emperor’s dream babe. He still talked like a commander. Hopefully Conan wanted me as much as Voldon did. I followed Goro’s shadow in the low level lighting.

“How long has it been?” I asked.

He headed through a narrow empty passageway toward a hatch. “Three earth months.”

An entire season? Geesh, talk about imprisonment. And now I’ve been saved by Conan. Or was I? Pay attention self. He didn’t react thrilled to see me at all.

Just what does he want with me?

Goro led me into a docking bay where our pod fighters waited.

He had said next to nothing. “Where are we going?”

He shot me a curious glance.

“Why are you rescuing me?”

“You are my responsibility.” He just waited, staring at me, the formidable killing machine.

That stern jaw line. Those scrutinizing eyes. His wild hair. He just stood there.

My knees quaked as my core melted.

If this ain’t one-hundred percent possession, what is? Responsibility rang a good solid motive to cough up though. But just what did responsibility refer to? Am I his responsibility to return to The Cause because I’ve been labeled a traitor?

Buying into the packaging of a man that made me run into danger while my knees liquefied was nuts. But he was so off-the-scale gorgeous now. If he’d just insist on having sex. If he’d just take what he had claimed to desire all those years. If only he’d give me that one chance to exchange blood and attach my soul to his for eternity.

Lord, I’m losing my mind. Now apparently wasn’t the time for ifs or opening up a direct line to God to confess my flaws. I blinked, pushed the secret button on my pod fighter to open the hatch, and climbed into the welcoming isolation of my pod’s cockpit.

Purchase:
at New Concepts Publishing

Adult excerpt FERAL FLAW (futuristic romance)
It glows???
Excerpt:

At last, his body responded to mine so intimately that he couldn’t decline my proposal. I had to keep him focused. Keep him distracted before he thought up another reason to postpone the consummation of our marital bond. Or I was destined for termination. A virgin. How tragic.

Having a real man was moments away. Had to be. Here gasped grasped one in the throes of commitment without a fear in the world. A breast man. I leaned into his solid accommodating body, raked my stiff nipples from his ribs to the rounded points on his chest, and circled his nibs with my own.

Chills jolted through my core.

Gods this is better than porn flicks. At last I understood what all the taunts about feeling wet meant.

He grabbed my hair, yanking my head so far back I feared my neck would pop.

Is this where Goro takes out Voldon’s alleged spy? I rolled my eyes to the farthest limit. To where he knelt.

He reached for one of my nipples and tugged at it, mesmerized, rolling the tender flesh between his thumb and index finger. His hot moist mouth bent down like he took one last drag on a cigarette and savored the moment before tossing the butt in the trash to quit cold turkey.

Throw me down. I’m all yours, Conan.

Tingly hot breath blew across my nipple.

I need him inside me. Now. “Goro!”

His orange gaze slowly slid from my breast, up my neck, stalled at my lips, then ventured on to meet my eyes. An eerie glow burned in those orbs as if he were no longer there. As if something more basal and carnal arose from the depths within him to take over for mating.

Just take me.

Who cared if this was normal in were-mating? Things were going to be different going into this long-term relationship with blood exchanges. No divorce allowed. But nobody warned me he might become a beast beforehand. Who cared? He was ten times sexier. So sexy I couldn’t think of anything but those shots in the smut movies where they got close-ups of the thick cock pounding between a woman’s thighs. Wouldn’t he hurry to prove everything I imagined was so much more in real life? He just needed a little incentive. I reached down to fondle myself like all the women in those sex shows.

“I’ll do that.” His grip on my hair let go, and he lifted me into his arms only to slowly lower me onto the cold ground. Then his tickling fingertips investigated my groin.

Oh to breathe as his fingers claimed every inch of my sensitive nether folds and clit only to move lower and slide inside me. To tease me.

I thrashed against the planet’s cold rock.

“You’re so wet,” he growled.

His eyes seemed so distant. So different as if the demon contemplated something. Or was lost. I’ll help him. I raised a hand to his cheek to pull down his lips again. To guide him to me.

And the way the iron cording throbbed in his neck promised of the blood binding. I ran a fingertip along the confessing artery.

His heart thumped a demand for consummation.

Not a problem given he thrust his fingers inside my aching body.

Wouldn’t he take me completely? I couldn’t lie still, squirming against those teasing fingers.




And then there was where the sweat beaded among the hairs on his chest. I rubbed the moisture into his drumming heart. Down. Down into the shadows. Over his ribbed abdomen. Down to where someone needed to guide his hard shaft into where it could throb inside me. I pulled his cock into the waning sunlight.

The tip glowed just as orange as the sunset.

Uh. Why is his penis glowing? I slid my gaze to meet my lover’s orange eyes.

His fingers stilled inside me. “It’s anatomically correct for an Xquine male. If you’re afraid, we can stop.”



Book 1: FERAL FASCINATIONS reviews...


"FERAL FASCINATIONS ...a surprise and an exciting read. It's not an easy novel to summarize but take my word for it…a summary can't do it justice any way. You have to read—and enjoy it—for yourself!... There's a lot of sex in this one but it's neither intrusive nor too graphic and every thrust of it moves the plot. Both Kindrist and Straightarrow, as well as the other characters—even the Bible-quote spouting Darla—are drawn with sympathy and realism. Pithy dialogue—a lot of it going on inside Jake's head, give the novel just enough of a quirky nature to keep it from the run-of-the-mill storyline of alien-abductee-saves-Mankind-and-gets-girl. 5 Stars!" ~Tony-Paul; http://www.tony-paul.com/

"This isn’t one of your brother’s Sci-Fi Books – it’s Rebel Mercenary meets Paranormal Alien Chick. ...Complex and well written, Ms. Moncrief seamlessly blended earth religion, new-age mysticism, paranormal events, shapeshifing rogue spies, and a who-done-it twist. The love scenes were not overly explicit, but very romantic & emotionally heart felt." ~LynnMarie, HEA Reviews

"Feral Fascinations is one of those werewolf science fiction novels that captures the imagination. Skhye Moncrief has done an amazing job of bringing a new world out and showing it to the reader with such amazing clarity. ...An original novel many will enjoy as it combines both modern and futuristic elements twinned with horror... True horror and science fiction fans will take to this novel really well as the characters are fascinating and well worth reading about. The sex scenes are not descriptive, but leave plenty to the imagination so the reader can make of the scenes what they will." ~Sandra, Romance at the Heart Magazine

Fall in love beyond this reality...
Skhye's website
Skhye's blog
Skhye's newsletter yahoo group

Nocturnally Vexed.....in print Dec. 2nd!

The wait is over!


Vex had never wooed a human and he wasn’t certain he had a clue of how to go about it, but Chastity, he decided, was worth it. The quicker he could claim her as his mate, the better he liked it. The question was, could he protect Chass from the denizens of Xurath—the bloodsuckers and shifter-rapts that lived among the humans and preyed upon them? Could he protect her from his own beasts?

Rating: Sensual/spicy

Read an Excerpt of Nocturnally Vexed!

~Happy Reading!

Summer is gone...a teaser for the back to school blues!

Happy Tuesday! I'm super busy this week with school starting for my little ones and working on my current project. I've posted another teaser to Voodoo Moon. I can't get blogger to publish this without screwing up the format so I apologize if there are any strange spacings. Have a fun week!

Nuzzles and hugs,
~Alisha


Excerpt from Voodoo Moon
The wolf licked his chops under the cover of a wide palm tree. He panted against
the humidity while watching a storm cloud race across the full moon and then another,
blowing over the object that kept him a beast.
The moon glow was blocked for a few seconds until the next cloud rolled over it,
casting eerie shadows, black moving spots on his glistening fur. It had rained all
afternoon, the winds growing stronger minute by minute. A storm was raging. A big
one.
He bolted to the edge of the rain forest, slowing his gait where the lawn began.
Trotting to a fountain, he gazed at the great house, watched the flickering yellow lights from the downstairs window and when he was sure no one was watching, took a long drink while rain slicked down his fur, in thick, tight gray bands. When he was satisfied, he moved closer, darting between trees, noting the size of many he’d helped to plant as saplings, enormous now. He’d been gone forever.
Something sinister crept along his spine. He shook his fur, from his head to his
tail. Now all spiky wet, the heated rain clung to him, much like the darkness reaching with grasping fingers, reaching for the deep ache that filled his soul since her death.
Dread filled his heart.
Talin.
He stopped in his tracks, looked behind him, and sniffed the rain.
Daisy.
She was with him in spirit. Her voice echoed in his mind, taking him back in
time. Back to that fateful night. A night much like tonight, stormy and dark, brimming with dread, fear, loss looming in the distance like wicked fate.
He could smell her tangy, warm skin, feel her soft lips on his own, her tongue
tangling with his, whispering his name when he danced inside of her. One last time.
He closed his eyes, let the rain pelt him, cool him. The image of her atop him,
loving him in their slave home. A shack. They owned nothing, but they had one another
and that had been enough. He growled, snapped his eyes open, and sprinted to the back
of the great house on whispery feet. He could see people inside. White people. Three
men and a woman, seated in a circle on the floor. Candles blazed on the floor, and in the center he saw the witch’s dress. His heart pumped with rage. That red ruby dress that she always wore. Night and day. In the morning while shouting orders from her balcony, cursing the slaves, laughing to herself. She wore it in the afternoon when she walked the fields with her whip. And in the night when she called the men to her rooms.
She ate in that dress, slept in it, and bedded many a good slave in that hideous garment.
It all came flooding back to him. Like a blanket of lovely and horrid memories,
stitched together, numbering his days. Days spent with Daisy. The day she’d stepped
foot on Rose Hall in chains. The day that changed his life and his heart forever. She had given him hope when he’d had none. But there was always the White Witch-screaming, cursing, demanding, torturing, and killing if she so desired. From a young age, slavery was all he’d known. But it had not always been that way. His own people sold him, and he’d brought a pretty price. He always had his magick. A form of security. He thought it would help him survive, and it had, but it had not saved Daisy.
He watched the woman rise, cross to the windows, and pick up a bottle of liquor.
The wolf stomped. He cocked his head to the side, studying her. Was Annie alive? He
had no doubt she’d instructed a houngan to raise her upon her death. Her face was the
same, yet different. So lovely still, but it held something else. Goodness? Joviality?
Had she changed for the better? Was she no longer wicked in heart? He could not
imagine it. She had been so evil, so cold. Never would she really know true love. Her
soul was too black. He’d seen her true reflection. A beast had shown in the mirror, a
sign of the blackest soul. No, this was not Annie. This woman wore spectacles. A
mambo would never have to.
Strong gale force winds whipped over the stalks of the sugar cane, creating an
ominous whistling sound.
The wolf flattened his ears against the assault to his sensitive ear drums. Blinding
rain came all at once, in buckets, drowning out the faint human voices he was listening to. He’d heard the woman say Annie’s name. The three men were laughing, drinking, and smoking cigars. He could smell the smoke, reminding him that there were indeed worldly things he had missed while in the grave.
He noticed all the windows had been boarded up except for one, but the board
was waiting to be nailed, now knocking against the house. He’d remembered only one
such storm, and he’d been the one to board up the windows for Annie, but there was no
shelter for the slaves. All of their homes had been destroyed, one hundred and forty
slaves had drowned and many more were left clinging to the tops of palm trees. Rose
Hall was built high off the ground to sustain such an act of God, but the straw huts had no chance. He remembered that Annie had four slaves held in the dungeon at the time. She released them to make room for her dogs. She cared more for dogs than she did the men that worked her fields. They were replaceable pieces of property.
The wolf snorted in anger at the thought as he rounded the great house to
investigate further. Even the windows on the front had been boarded. The wind was
harsher from the front, so he retreated back to the rear, head bent, finding it difficult to walk at all, and impossible to run in such winds. He found shelter behind an enormous planter only a foot from the back window left unboarded. He’d take his chances. He doubted anyone inside would open the door to such a ferocious storm. He could make out the voices again and laid his head down between his paws to keep from being detected.
Watching through the foggy panes, he saw the woman spreading out the red dress,
smoothing the wrinkles before she sat Indian style across from it. She motioned to the men, and they joined her, forming a circle, laughing and drinking. He watched a bald painted man take a swig and pass a jug around. Never had he seen a painted white man.
He’d only seen African men wear tribal paint. And their clothes. The woman wore skin
tight trousers and a thin shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Most odd. The men were dressed like her. What struck him as beyond strange was the scarf on her head.
Like slave women. Daisy wore them, but he’d never seen a white woman wear a scarf,
and it was decorated with bones. What kind of priestess had evolved in this new world?

It was as if she did nothing to hide her involvement with the spirits. Even Annie was
very discreet about her black magick.
“Let’s hold hands. This is her dress. I’m going to call out to her. See if I
can get ‘er to show up,” Tammie announced.
“Oh she’ll show up, mate,” Ike said. “She’s not the shy type at all.”
“You’re full of it, mate,” Hunter shot back. “You saw a bloody ghost in the
dungeon. Yeah, right. Some hot chic in a red dress walked through the mirror and you
didn’t shag her?”
The men exploded in laughter. “Very funny. Stop yer flim-flam,” Tammy said
dryly. “Annie’s not gonna take kindly to ya making fun of her.”
“Whose making fun of her? Ike didn’t see a bloody thing. He’s just got jet lag
and was day dreaming about some dolly is all.”
“Call her up, Tam! Let’s prove this lady is haunting this old house. She’s here,
mate! I’ll show ya. How much you want to bet?”
“No bets! Bee-ave! Now everyone concentrate. Hold hands, close your eyes,
and I’ll do the talking.”
“If some bloody ghost walks in here, I’m staying at the resort,” Pyro announced.
“You scared, Py?” Tammie asked.
“I don’t do ghosts.”
The living room erupted again in raucous laughter.
“I feel right ramped! Should we be calling on the dead while rat arsed?” Pyro
asked, lighting another cigar. “Does the ghost care if I smoke?”
“I don’t think Annie will mind. Take my hand, Py. Close your eyes.”
Pyro grumbled something under his breath and then completed the circle.
Tammie had lined candles along the hem and the neckline.
“Annie Palmer, my ancestor, we call out to ya in peace and love.”
Rain pelted the back window. The wind howled.
“Christ, could you ask for a scarier night to raise the dead?” Py asked, visibly
shaken.
“Shhh. Put a sock in it, Py! I’m making peace with the spirit. Not asking ‘er to
show herself.”
Pyro released her hand to take another puff on his cigar and then held it in his
teeth, keeping one eye open. “Sorry, luv. ‘Ave a go at it. Make yer peace.”
Tammie sighed, cleared her throat, and began again.
“We only ask that you allow us to live in peace with you while in yer home. We
respect yer need to share Rose Hall and hope you’ll welcome us.”
Hunter stifled a laugh. Tammie squeezed his hand and shot him a warning glare.
“Shhh!”
“Nothing’s ‘appening, doll. Do you think she’s gone?”
Ike only stared at him. He knew she wasn’t a figment of his imagination.
“Bugger off if you blokes ain’t serious. I’ve seen her with me own two eyes. I don’t
want the lady pissed at me.”
Pyro yawned as the winds raged outside. “Are we done here? I’m shagged out.
Totally cabbaged. I could really do with a kip.”
“But we’re not done,” Tammie whined.

“I’m done, luv. This is a load of old cack. Wasn’t the lady a big ole’ slag?
Knocking the slaves and then murdering them? G’night, Annie. Try not to haunt me
tonight,” Pyro added, rising to retire.
Tammie stood with her hands on her hips. “Naff off then! You spoiled all this!”
“You’re a right nutter, Py! You don’t want to ‘ave this dead dolly show up late at
night,” Ike added, rising to refill his drink.
Hunter stuttered something inaudible from the floor, back handing Ike’s leg,
vying to get his attention.
Ike turned and dropped his glass.
Standing before them all was the dress. The candles had been knocked sideways.
Tammie gasped, then bent to pick them up, still staring up at the dress floating as
if someone were standing in it. The temperature in the room plummeted.
Hunter struggled to get up, tripping on the rug, then moved away from the
billowing dress.
“Annie?” Tammie asked.
And then she showed herself.
Pyro yelled when she looked straight through him, her emerald eyes blazing.
Pictures hanging on the walls rattled as the winds howled and rain pelted the
windows.
Color drained into her phantom features, making her appear as human as any of
them. She flew down to the floor, and, though she had feet and wore antique shoes, she moved as if on rails, zooming toward Pyro with one finger outstretched, pointing at him.
She opened her mouth, and the charm around her neck glowed brightest ruby red. The
scream was deafening, strident, and wicked, an evil howl, full of hate and misery.
Tammie clung to Ike and Hunter, sobbing, afraid she’d done something she could
not undo.
Raging terror filled the house. Sadness and dread seeped into the walls, echoing,
bouncing back and forth. Fear gripped them all. A fear none of them had ever
experienced or even knew could exist. All of them were struggling to breathe.
Tammie fell over, gasping, reaching for her throat. Ike fell. Then Hunter. All of
them choking and spitting when the ghost spilled into Pyro’s body and disappeared.
He went mad with fright, running down the halls, back and forth, screaming like a
woman. His voice was gone, and in its place was Annie’s shrieking-cursing them all,
warning them, ordering them to leave. Possessed, crazed beyond reason, Pyro ran into
the kitchen and came back, sprinting towards the others lying on the floor unconscious.
Held high over his head was a machete. It was so quick. Milliseconds of glass breaking, flying, rain, and hurricane force winds blew onto the Persian carpet, peeling it off the floor as the wolf leapt through the window and hurled himself at Pyro.
At that instant, the phantom released Pyro, flying out of his body, turning to face
her old enemy.
He jumped on her throat but fell straight through to the floor with a loud thump.
She spoke to the wolf without speaking as he growled, barring his fangs.
Get out of my house! Go back to your grave!
The wolf responded telepathically. You’re dead. I’m not!
Annie only stared, studying him before she turned, walked into the wall, and
disappeared.
The humans awoke gagging, coughing, spitting, and Pyro stood there frozen,
holding an ancient murder weapon, white and in shock when the wolf fled from where he
came, back out the window and into the raging storm.

Annie's Tomb and Family Portrait Below

Erotic Teaser from Uncaged!

I'm thrilled to be a part of The Brood Series coming soon to NCP. Here's an excerpt from Uncaged. Send me your thoughts.

Blurb
When an African lion wakes up on board a ship bound for London in 1772, he has no choice but to shift into the very creature that has captured and caged him in order to free himself. Fifteen years have passed since the lion has called himself by his given name, Bruce Remington. Time enough to forget life as a man, but when Bruce meets the captain’s daughter, Wren Whittier, a lovely quadroon, the scent of a woman comes flooding back to him.

Once back in London, Bruce settles back into the shape shifter community, intent on reclaiming his life as a man and making Wren his wife. When the captain falls ill and dies, Wren is captured by a lynch mob and held prisoner by a small town of superstitious country folk on charges of witchcraft, though witch trials are a thing of the past. Bruce gathers every available London shape shifter and goes in search of the woman he loves. Will the heart of the lion, the very heart that binds them together be strong enough to free her before she’s burned at the stake?

Excerpt
Bruce fell asleep, hidden between two hefty crates near the northern deck, where the shadows grew longer and blacker. He even managed to steal a loaf of bread and some ale. The first time in ages since he had eaten something other than raw meat. The alcohol quickly took effect, lulling him into a deep sleep, but something roused him, something delicate and enticing.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with thick thumbs. The black night sky was scattered with millions of twinkling stars. He sniffed and then smiled. The woman was near. Her scent wafted through the sea air like honeysuckle dancing on the wind. She stood overlooking the bow of the ship. Her skirt whipped around her dainty ankles. She was barefoot. Never had Bruce known a naked pair of feet to look so erotic. A deep throated growl emanated from within. He shook his head in an effort to yield the wild creature within. Luckily the wind masked the noise. Rising and stretching, he made his way to her side, stomping across deck to alert her of his coming. He didn’t want to startle her and cause her to cry out. She turned when she heard him approach, greeting him with a half smile, her lips curved on one side.
“Good evening, sir,” she said, turning to face him fully.
His eye caught the gleam of a topaz pendant, nestled between her full breasts. His cock stiffened at the sight, pushing against his newly acquired breeches. Breeches that suited his size perfectly, until now. He took her hand and kissed it. The scent of her burnished skin drove him mad with desire. He shut his eyes.
“Out for another smoke, sir?”
“Aye. I couldn’t sleep. Are you feeling better today, miss?”
“A bit. Thanks to you for inquiring,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Father is in a tizzy. All the fuss about the caged beast never setting sail with us.”
Bruce smiled. A sweaty lock of his long, blond hair fluttered against his sun burnt forehead. He worked on deck all day, pretending to be a crewmate. He even helped repair a torn sail. No one had been the wiser.
Bruce grunted. “Don’t see how a beast that size could be carried off without notice. Sounds an oddity for certain.”
“Father says the slaves must have taken him back off the ship the night before we set sail.”
“Does he really think they went to all that trouble and then carried an empty cage back on board?”
“Aye, sir. A lion will fetch a pretty price. He’d make a fine attraction at the fair, bringing in loads of money. The slaves most likely took him back to their master while the cat was still full of sleeping potion. There was never no need to carry back an empty cage. Now the master can sell him for whatever price he wants. According to Father, they tracked that particular beast for weeks before catching him.”
Bruce doubted that. He’d have sensed the men or at least caught a whiff of their scent. He’d been taken totally by surprise. “Seems particularly cruel to me,” he added.
“Aye. To me too, sir. Reminds me of my mother. She’s no different from the lion. She’s been captured, bought and sold again. Cruel, indeed.”
Wren looked up at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “Why did you say you were in Africa?”
Bruce cleared his throat. “I didn’t.” He could think of nothing other than the slave trade and then the perfect answer came to him like a flash of lightning. “I’m with the House of Lords.”
Wren wrinkled her nose. “A solicitor? Surely you jest, sir. You look nothing of the sort.”
Bruce was insulted. “I don’t look smart enough?”
“You seem highly intelligent, sir. It’s just that . . .”
Bruce cut her off. “What then?”
Even with her dark coloring, Bruce saw her blush.
“You just seem altogether too much man for such a job. You’re so virile. You seem more suited for the outdoors. I find it altogether impossible to picture you seated behind a desk, scribbling down law onto paper.”
She fancies me, then?
Bruce stuck his chest out. So, the lady found him attractive, handsome perhaps. This he could go with.
“I’ll have you know, miss, I am an astute member of Parliament. There’s much talk of abolishing slavery. I’ve come to investigate the matter further and take my vantage point back to my fellow solicitors.” When he’d lived in London, there had been much debate on the issue.
Wren nodded. “Forgive me, sir. I didn’t intend to insult you.”
“You’re forgiven. It was an honest mistake and besides, what man doesn’t like to be considered virile by a woman such as yourself?”
Wren dipped her head into the shadow of his looming chest. He was afraid he had embarrassed her or perhaps she didn’t believe him. With one finger, he tipped her chin up. “You think I only flatter you?”
Wren frowned. “My father is a terrible man. What is it you want to know? I care not for his love. He cares not for mine.”
Bruce stared at her before speaking. She was so lovely, so honest. It made his heart ache to see her living with such a man. “I know enough of your father, Wren.” He watched her face in the moonlight, sensing her distrust. “I want to know you.”
Wren smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “Why? I am only the captain’s blackamoor.”
Bruce touched her cheek with the back of his hand and shook his head. “No, Wren. You are the loveliest creature I’ve ever seen. I’m quite smitten with you.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t come out here for a smoke?”
Bruce laughed. “You would be correct.”
“You came to see me? To speak with me?”
He nodded. “Aye. I fancy your company.”
“You do?”
Bruce nodded again. He took one of her hands, holding it between both of his. Closing his eyes he sighed.
“Perhaps you’ve been in Africa too long.”
He grunted. “Much too long.” His eyes snapped open. “May I kiss you?”
Wren’s mouth fell open. He licked his lips, never taking his eyes off hers, beseeching her. Wren smiled. “You may.” She closed her eyes and waited.
Bruce watched her heavily lashed lids flutter shut. He sensed a small amount of fear. He could smell it, but she wasn’t frightened of him. It wasn’t adrenaline he caught a whiff of in the night wind. It was pure lust. Unhinged, full frontal arousal from a woman of her quality. His cock poked and throbbed against his stiff breeches as his hands took possession of her face. She gasped. Her eye lids fluttered open and then shut again. Her lips parted. He moved closer, feeling her sweet breath on his wet lips, drying them with her heat. He kissed her. The sensation rocked him, spiraling down into his belly and into his legs, making every hair stand on end. His tongue probed her delicate mouth. She moaned softly, opening for him. She stuck her tiny tongue into his mouth, unleashing a growl. She yelped against him.
He pulled her to him, molding his mouth to hers, slanting their kiss, sucking on her tongue. She moaned deeper, bewitching him with seductive, slow kisses that heated him from within, sending shivers along his neck and spine. Bruce groaned when she moved closer to him, molding her body to his. He felt the pulsing beneath his breeches. Bruce steadied himself. It’d been forever since he’d seduced a woman. He’d half forgotten. Instinct told him to turn her around and enter her from behind. It took all his powers, from both gene pools to reign the beast that yearned to buck the beauty he held in his arms. He really intended to kiss her only once. He had no idea she’d feel this glorious, this soft, this needy. Bruce shook. He wanted to shift but didn’t know why. He certainly couldn’t bed her while in cat form.
She palmed his chest, fingering the tiny buttons of his shirt. She found his nipples and rubbed them with the heels of her hand. Bruce sucked in a heated breath. She pinched them. He pushed her hands aside and yanked the shirt open. She dragged her mouth away from his, trailing kisses across his jaw, down his neck, past the pulse throbbing in his throat.
She tongued his nipples. He watched her. Watched as her pink tongue flicked and licked at the swollen nubs. Goose bumps rose on his chest. His cock swelled when she bit him and suckled with a hunger he had forgotten existed. She moaned softly as if she were enjoying her delicacy. He clutched her silken hair and pulled her face to his, kissing her fiercely, his tongue diving, tasting. Their teeth clinked when he slanted his mouth to hers, wanting more closeness, more togetherness with a woman he’d only met one day before. Blinding lust rushed through his veins, blacking out all reason.
The wind picked up. The sails above them flapped in the breeze while salty waves slapped over the deck, spraying them, cooling their heated skin. Bruce swept her off her feet and pulled her onto his lap where he positioned himself over a large crate covered by a tattered sail. Her ass perched atop him. He unleashed a growl before burying his face in her cleavage. The jewel embedded between her breasts was hot against his lips as he nibbled and sucked around it. Wren arched her back, tossing her head into the wind, letting it blow her tresses behind her.
Bruce freed her breasts. Full, dark mounds filled his hands and mouth as he took one nipple in his mouth, sucking fiercely. Wren cried out, her passionate song mingled with the howling wind. A tall wave leapt over the side of the boat, soaking them both. Wren screamed in surprise and then laughed out loud. Bruce only growled at the sight of the half naked, wet lady in his arms.
He pushed her to the edge of his lap, unlaced his breeches and pulled her back to him. A mischievous grin curled around her delicate face, awash with passion and desperate need. Bruce’s heart went out to her. He lifted her skirts, grabbed her waist and lowered her onto him in one swift move. Wren gasped. Another wave of water tumbled over them as he sliced into her again and again. She molded herself to him, humming, licking her lips. Bruce loved the way his cock fit into her, so snug, so tight and so bold. She rode him while the ship rocked and swayed, a beautiful melody of wood creaking, waves splashing and Bruce grunting. She wrapped her legs around him tighter, gripping the mast that he leaned upon. With her arms over her head he had full access to her wet, heavy, swaying breasts as they slapped at his chest and face, only making him drive into her with more passion, more force than he thought was possible.
He felt the first tremors of release cinch around his swollen cock. Two more thrusts into her velvety smoothness and he’d lost himself, spilling into her his seed, his unleashed desire and his loyalty. Wren’s body rocked just as his began to still. She cried out into the night. He held her closer as the glorious spasms of quenched passion shot through her. Her necklace slapped his cheek as she rode him to the highest point of her release and then she collapsed onto him. Long, dark tendrils clung to her face and breasts. He peeled them off one by one as her breathing returned to normal. She sighed as he kissed her shoulder and pulled her to him. Even the ship found calmer waters as they clung to one another, two strangers no more.