Authors: Carrie Ann Ryan
Yet her friends thought with all of the accomplishments in her educational career she was still uptight. Some even said she was missing her ideal husband. But her closest friend Larissa decided she just needed to get laid.
Mel thought back to when her best friend first told her this crazy idea.
“Really Melanie, when was the last time you got laid? First year? Even earlier? It’s ridiculous! You are practically a born-again virgin.” Larissa laughed at her own joke and then slid a business card across her newly cleared off lab bench.
“
What’s this?” A name printed on the card, Jamenson Services, stared back at her. “You’re sending me to a gigolo?” She gasped and tried to throw the card away before Larissa quickly swiped it from her hands.
“No. The Jamensons are contractors. The man who owns it is an acquaintance of mine. He built the new green house at my parents. Come on, you need a date and so does he. It is only for one evening, and sex isn’t required. But honestly, the way those Jamenson boys are built, you’ll be dropping your panties at his command,” Larissa lifted one eyebrow and laughed again.
“Oh I don’t think so. I’m not that desperate. It’s just that I’ve been so focused on my work that I didn’t have time to date a man, let alone look for one.” Melanie knew she could’ve just looked across the lab bench for the last five years to find a date. But really Timmy wasn’t at all that worth to look.
“Honey, you are too rigid. You need one night off before you skip ahead to the next part of your life. Call the number on the card and talk to Jasper. He’s the brother of the guy I think would be perfect for you. Do it and get laid.” She laughed, pushing the card in Melanie’s hand.
Somewhere deep down Melanie knew Larissa was right. Melanie didn’t throw the card away. She couldn’t. Now six weeks later, she found herself sitting in the Hilton Resort in Seattle, about to vomit on the new black Fuck-Me pumps Larissa forced her to wear.
“Miss? Are you okay?”
At the sound of a deep voice, her head shot up to look at a very handsome man. Dark skinned, with piercing eyes, he surveyed her.
Oh my, is this her date?
“Oh I’m fine. Just getting the nerve to walk into the bar, to get even more nerve to wait for my date.” She winced at how fast and squeaky she spoke but really – why was she even here?
“I’m the manager, Lance Morse, let me walk you to the bar, and get you a shot of that nerve.” He winked and she smiled him.
Melanie took a deep breath. “Okay.” Wow. Surely, anyone could tell she was
Dr.
Melanie Cross, rather than the dumb blonde she seemed to be portraying.
Or not
.
He took her arm and guided her away from where she sat for twenty minutes regretting her decisions. Lance walked her toward the bar, while talking about the various hotel and resort amenities and events. She nodded while he spoke, as she felt the bar beckon her.
“Here we are. Thank you again for coming. If you need anything, feel no hesitation in asking one of my employees to assist you or ask for me by name. Enjoy your evening, Melanie Cross.”
She smiled then stopped breathing for a moment. “How…”
“Your friend, Larissa, texted me earlier to be on the lookout for a small, shy blonde by the name of Melanie Cross and you seemed to fit the description. I took a gamble.” He smiled.
Before she could respond, he winked again and walked out of the bar leaving her alone.
As she sat down, a Bay Breeze magically appeared in front of her and the bartender winked at her as he walked away. Did all men at this hotel wink? Her phone buzzed as she was just about to get freaked out.
Melanie babe, please relax. Your date should be there soon. Take a nice drink of that concoction and enjoy your evening. Oh and get laid.
Melanie laughed. Larissa possessed a one-track mind. She took a drink when her phone buzzed again.
Just remember to keep an open mind. He really is quite sweet and won’t bite. Well, only occasionally. And only if you want him to.
What the hell?
****
Kade Jamenson stepped into the lobby and was immediately assaulted by the delicate honey vanilla scent wafting throughout the room. His muscles clenched and he balled his fists, gaining control.
Mate?
He tried to tone down his edginess, but it felt as though his wolf was trying to claw his way out from the inside.
He spoke to the wolf inside his head,
“It surely smells like a possibility. But we are here for a date with a human. I am not so callous as to stand up a perfectly reasonable date just so I can follow a scent that could lead to disaster. Let me figure out this date first and then I will follow the scent if we have to. We already made the mistake of the wrong mate once; I don’t want to do it again.”
Mate!
His wolf was right. He knew the woman who could be his mate wasn’t even in the room, yet her scent and the urge to join with another was stronger by far than with Tracy. Kade took a deep breath of the honey vanilla scent and his balls tightened.
Damn. This woman was potentially his mate. How could this happen the night he finally took up his brother’s, Jasper, offer of a blind date?
He quickly texted Jasper to let him know that he needed to break his date or do some major rescheduling and thinking. He couldn’t be respectful to this human woman if he was aroused by another scent. It wasn’t fair to any party.
His phone buzzed not one minute later with a response.
Kade, don’t be an ass. Just go meet Melanie and I am sure you will have your answers.
After that cryptic comment, Kade didn’t know what to think. Jasper told him, Melanie was a 5’2” petite blonde who should fit against his 6’2” frame nicely. Those liquid brown eyes that gazed up at him from her photograph, made him want to know what was behind them. That was a first for him. He might have been slightly nervous about the date but he was oh so willing and eager to meet with her. Just remembering her photo made him smile and want to see her in person. He was an Alpha male with no small amount of pride. Hell, he was the Heir to the Redwood Pack, first in line to the throne. Kade took one last deep breath of that honey vanilla scent and squared his shoulders.
He had a date with a pretty blonde.
Destiny Bewitched
By Leia Shaw
Available now!
Orange hair caught the light and shone like fire. A young woman swung her sword, slicing through flesh with a skill and brutality that didn’t fit her small body. She ducked and dodged blows coming from all sides. Her counterstrikes flowed with grace, the sword like an extension of her arm. It arched over her head and whistled through the air. She twisted and spun and thrust. A beautiful, violent dance.
Geo watched, transfixed, as the three werewolves in crinos form, circled her, growling furiously. Patches of fur covered their seven foot tall muscular bodies. Blood dripped from gashes in their chests and stomachs. Even with her long sword, she couldn’t quite reach the only place they were vulnerable – their necks. But the werewolves were holding back. They wanted her alive.
With a warrior’s cry, she slashed through the stomach of the biggest werewolf. His eyes lit up with rage. A terrifying snarl echoed around them. And a flash of fear tightened in Geo’s chest.
Fear? He shook his head. It was none of his business why the werewolves wanted the girl. It definitely shouldn’t concern him why a woman, quite possibly a human, was alone in the Underworld in the first place. A werewolf claw nicked the skin on her belly where her shirt rode up. The crimson blood against her pale skin bothered him more than it should. He grimaced.
Keep walking.
He’d survived in the Underworld as long as he had only because he minded his own business and kept to himself.
But his gut churned at the thought of leaving the woman in the hands of the werewolves. He looked back at the fight. She held her own – a fearsome little thing – but her limbs sagged and her reflexes seemed a bit slower. The ire in the werewolves’ eyes continued to grow. They’d lose their patience soon.
An open satchel on the ground caught his eye. A brown book with a worn cover sat halfway out of the bag.
A Grimoire.
His heart jumped with excitement. She was a witch.
A feminine yelp of pain snapped him out of the daze and he swung his head toward the sound. The witch fell lifelessly to the ground, blood trickling down her temple.
The biggest werewolf – black as night with pale blue eyes – let out a deafening roar. His claws curled and drool fell from his muzzle. With heavy thuds, he stepped toward her, still snarling. He reached down –
Stop.
One mental command and the three werewolves froze. Geo gave the order for them to stay while he placed the Grimoire in the satchel and threw it over his shoulder. He walked to the woman, unconscious on the ground. The werewolves’ gaze followed him, icy cold and promising vengeance. He lifted the witch into his arms and faced them.
“I’m sorry, but I need this one.”
The biggest beast growled. They weren’t in a forgiving mood. If he was smart, he’d kill them. Whatever plan they had for the girl was, no doubt, a nefarious one. But, a vampire had to feed, werewolves had to mate. It was the way of his world.
He looked down at the bundle of redemption cradled in his arms. His world rarely included witches stumbling around the most dangerous parts of the Underworld. Maybe, at last, luck was shining down on him. Maybe, with her help, he could finally return home.
***
Samantha woke with a pounding headache. She groaned and rolled to her side. Her muscles screamed in protest. Her sword arm felt like jello. A piece of hair fell across her face, tickling her cheek. She swept it away and her hand came back sticky and wet. Blood?
Panic gripped her and she choked on a gasp. Memory took her backward like a movie on rewind. The deal with the dragon, the door to the Underworld, the werewolf attack. Then blank. And now a headache and sore muscles? Well, at least she wasn’t dead. With a lot of effort, she cracked open her lids.
Her gaze darted around the semi-darkness. She was in a small wooden cabin. A fire crackled in a hearth on the other side of the room. It lit most of the cabin, but it was the dark corners that unsettled her. A few pieces of handmade furniture stood ominously in the firelight. And she lay on a pallet of some sort.
Wincing in pain, she shifted to sit. A rectangular wooden frame formed the raised surface for a bed. She looked down. Underneath her, a shoddy hand-stitched quilt of mismatched fabrics made up the mattress. It seemed clean at least. She did a double take at a few spots of blood then shuddered. Or not.
Looking around the space again, it appeared she was alone. Was this a werewolf cabin? Was the door unlocked with no one to guard her? She rose to her shaky feet to find out.
Footsteps thudded outside the door.
“Shit,” she whispered. Desperately, she searched the room for something she could use as a weapon. Her gaze fell on her satchel.
Yes!
She sprung across the room to her bag and shuffled through it. The footsteps grew closer. “Come on, come on, come on.”
The door knob jiggled.
“Aha!” She pulled out a piece of chalk and drew a circle on the floor around her, chanting a protection spell.
The door opened just as she finished. A tall figure, shrouded in darkness, stepped into the cabin – his size accentuated by his heavy footsteps. Her heart seemed to stop beating.
The man stepped into the light of the fire and she finally got a good look at who held her captive. She blanched.
His powerful legs were wrapped in brown leather. Small pouches and odd looking things dangled from a thick belt at his waist. Was that an animal foot? Olive skin with a strong jaw and prominent, slightly crooked nose gave him a flawed yet handsome appearance. Not at all what she expected.
He addressed her, his voice deep and husky. His language sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t understand him. When she stared blankly, he tried again.
Then it hit her. Greek. She had the urge to roll her eyes. Of course it was the one subject she’d failed during her short time of witchcraft mentoring.
With a sigh, he withdrew the cowboy hat from his head. She gasped. A pair of impressive rust-colored horns rose up from his skull and extended backward like a ram. His hair fell around them, almost masking them.
Her captor was a, “Demon,” she whispered breathlessly. Not for the first time in her short mortal life, Samantha was in deep shit.
He nodded. “Ah. English, then?”
She couldn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on his horns. But that couldn’t be right. The illustrations of demons she’d seen depicted small men with baggy skin and rows of pointed teeth. The horns were the same but his height, muscular build, glossy brown hair and full lips…something didn’t add up. Then again, she wasn’t a cackling hag covered in warts either.
The demon’s lips quirked at one corner. “I’m glad to see you have some fear. I was a little worried when I saw you picking a fight with the werewolves.”
That pulled her from her daze. She scowled. “I wasn’t picking a fi –” She cut off when his eyes crinkled around the corners. He was teasing her?
His gaze swept down her body and stopped at the ground. “A protection circle? Very good. Now come out of there.” He turned away and stepped toward the fire as if he fully expected her to obey. He lifted the lid on the cauldron. A heavenly scent filled the room.
He turned back around and stopped when he saw she hadn’t moved. “All right. Stay there if you’re more comfortable. What’s your name?”
She pursed her lips.
“Never give a demon your name,”
Selene, her witch mentor had instructed. Demons were one of the most dangerous creatures in the Underworld. They had the unique ability to influence one’s mind, manipulating people to do as they commanded. Their influence grew more powerful as they learned more about their victim. And it all started with a name.