Authors: Asha King
“There were three men here, you said?” Lincoln guessed, as that many were missing from his payroll.
The frightened kid nodded. “Yep. They came in and then another man did and that’s when the fighting started.”
The shifter, probably. No one else in this stupid little town would’ve been capable of dispatching them. “And then what did you see?”
“Well, nothin’.” The boy shifted, scratched at the side of his face, and seemed to sweat under Lincoln’s unwavering gaze.
“Why is that?”
“Well, I was downstairs. She made me go down, call the police.”
Lincoln’s heart spend. “
She
?”
“I told the other officers—”
“You’re telling
me
now. ‘She’?”
“The lady. I don’t know who she was but the other guy knew her and the other ones—the three who started the fight—they seemed to be...”
His patience was wearing thin and he wished he could tear the kid’s windpipe out. “They seemed
what
?”
The clerk went cheesy pale. “I dunno. Interested, kinda. And she took over real fast, made me go downstairs. She knew what she was doing. Probably saved me from getting hurt.”
Interesting. So the tiger
did
have help. Someone who must’ve been hiding him all this time.
Lincoln smiled again and the boy visibly shuddered, turning his gaze downward. “Now. Describe this woman for me in detail.”
Erik and Adelaide’s story continues in...
Cat Scratch Fever
Cats & Conjure #2
Tiger shifter Erik Wells has reluctantly left the woman he loves in the hopes of protecting her from the people out to get him. But his retreat has come too late: Erik’s enemies have not only found her but know exactly who she is and what she’s capable of.
Adelaide Deveraux is only beginning to discover the power of conjure passed down to her from her late witchdoctor grandmother. But those powers might not be enough to save her when she’s taken from the sanctuary of her house and brought to the man intent on owning her and her magic...even if he has to break her to do it.
Need some more paranormal romance to tide you over?
Bad Moon Rising
Abriella Simone doesn't believe in tempting fate, but when she walks home after a costume party dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, she does just that. A werewolf is prowling the streets of her small home town and he's big, bad, and out for blood. She escapes the encounter with her life but not without his infected bite.
He's not the only wolf in the neighborhood, however. Abriella's key into this new world is her childhood friend Maddox Black. At fourteen, he was whisked away from town to live deep in the mountains with his family. Seven years later, Abriella understands why: he's a werewolf, living in secret with a pack nearly driven to extinction. Whether it's the hungry beast rising within her or a child's crush that's blossomed into a woman's desire, Abriella can't resist Maddox's draw.
When a pack elder reveals a cure for her condition exists, her relief is short lived. For one, the cure requires the saliva of the mysterious wolf that bit her. Worse still, taking the cure will force her to give up Maddox forever.
Now available!
Take a peek at
Bad Moon Rising
...
After filling the electric kettle and turning it on, she went for the linen cupboard to at least grab him a towel. “I am going to be the subject of many rumors if people see me bringing a naked guy into my apartment all the time.”
“Better or worse than a wolf?”
She turned with the towel in her hands to see him right behind her, crowding her space with a feral grin.
Abriella thrust the towel at him and cocked a brow. “Less kinky, at least.”
He didn’t step back and she was very nearly pinned between him and the linen closet door. Fresh heat coursed through her as she gazed up at him, her heart beating wildly.
She could dart away. He wouldn’t push her. They could sit and have tea and be normal and—
And Abriella didn’t
want
normal anymore. She was already about as far from normal as can be.
Maddox’s hand folded over hers where she still had the towel pressed against his abdomen. His fingers dragged over the back of her hand, to her wrist. She struggled to keep her breaths calm but desire surged in her—she craved him, wanted him. His gaze searched hers and she hoped his saw everything there—hoped he knew moisture flooded her panties, that she wanted him in her bed and between her thighs and finally inside her at last.
He grasped the towel in her other hand and pulled it away; it fell at their feet and she didn’t think of it again, wouldn’t dream of covering him. They moved together, him toward her, her toward him, until they crashed as one. Her back struck the closed linen closet door, the robe hanging from a hook on the back giving just a little padding.
Her fingers twined through his hair and pulled him toward her, and she rose up on her toes to better meet him. The intensity of her want surprised her—she couldn’t remember ever feeling this way, ever craving someone so much. The feel of his tongue swirling with hers, devouring her mouth; the hard muscle beneath her fingers as she gripped his shoulders; the groan of pleasure he gave as she shamelessly pressed into him. It was all intoxicating, emptying her head of thoughts so there was just feeling, just instinct, just the desire to be his and make him hers.
His hands raked down her spine and cupped her ass, squeezing. His hard length pressed against her belly and she arched into him until he groaned again. She reached one hand between them, sliding over his hot, smooth skin, lower and lower until her fingers trailed over the head of his cock.
Maddox let out a shuddering breath and the sound pleased her—she liked having some semblance of power over him the way he did over her. Boldly she reached further, grasping his thick erection and sliding her hand up and down.
He gripped her face in both of his large hands and kissed her deeply. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered against her lips.
“So take me,” Brie returned, rubbing his length faster, enjoying the silky smooth feeling of him and the way he panted for release.
And then she no longer held him—he grasped both of her wrists and thrust them over her head. A moment later he had her belt jerked free from her pants and he wrapped the supple leather once around her wrists, then hung them on the hook above.
She turned her eyes upward and gave the binding an experimental tug. It wasn’t tight and enough wiggling might free her, but for now it held. She looked at him again, meeting his heated gaze with an arch of her brow.
“You first,” he said in a low growl, nuzzling her neck. His hands drifted down her arms, her sides, then firmly running back up her body to her breasts. “You’ll tell me”—his thumbs circled her nipples, rubbing them into hard peaks beneath her tank top and bra—“what feels good.”
© 2013 Asha King
About the Author
Asha King likes good-looking men and hot books, and often strives to combine the two in contemporary, paranormal, and suspenseful romantic stories. She lives in the exotic land of Alberta, Canada, where she doesn’t ride a polar bear to work but does drink vast amounts of locally brewed beer and watches hockey.
She loves connecting with readers and you can keep up to date with her on her blog at ashaking.blogspot.com, where you’ll find a list of her books as well as what she’s working on.