Throwback Thursday: Wolf Charming #PNR #TBT #werewolves

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WOLF CHARMING

Iron Hills Pack #1

A werewolf spin on one of your favorite fairy tales…

Weston Drake is a lot of things. Player. Bestselling author. And stubborn as fuck werewolf. At least, he’s stubborn when it comes to his mate. He’s known that Abril Forrest belongs to him for the past five years, but their fourteen year age gap has kept him away. She’s more than legal enough now, but his thirty-five to her twenty-one still makes him feel like a lecherous old man. No matter how much his wolf craves her company, and his body craves her touch, he resists the lure of his chosen one. What would a sexy woman like her want with an older man like him?

Abril has fought like hell to carve out a life in Grover Falls, despite her dismal beginning. Raised in the trailer park with her junkie mom and a father who would just as soon sell her as look at her, she’s worked hard to leave her past behind. But in small towns, people never forget. Men think she’s easy because of who her parents are, so she’s always avoided relationships, or dating in general. But there’s one man she’d give herself to in a heartbeat. Weston Drake is everything she’s ever wanted, but he’s never once looked her way.

Until now.

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AMAZON / B&N / ITUNES

 

Other Books in the Iron Hills Pack series:

Beauty and Her Beast – book 2
Little Red & Ryder Wolfe – book 3

 

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#NewRelease – Remus by @galestanley #LGBT #GayRomance #PNR #shifter #werewolves @changelingpress

Remus (Watchdogs 2) by Gale Stanley

Cover art: Bryan Keller

BIN: 08356-02699

Genres: Gay, Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Paranormal, Action Adventure & Suspense, New Releases, Romance

Length: Novella

Page Count: 42

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Ray has always been a little wild in bed but can Jared handle his animal tendencies?

 

Ex-hitman, Ray Miller got immunity in exchange for testifying against Sarge, his former handler. Grateful for the second chance, Ray and his lover, Jared open their own P.I. agency and call it Watchdogs. But their happily ever after doesn’t last long.

Jared is having nightmares that seem all too real, and someone is stalking him. Ray suspects Sarge wants revenge, but he soon discovers a more dangerous foe is after them. How can he protect himself and Jared, when their enemy is a wolf?

Get a new release discount at Changeling Press

https://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2699

 

EXCERPT

Jared huddled under the covers until the smell of coffee drew him out of bed. First stop, the bathroom. He glanced in the mirror, and did a double take. What the fuck! Gripping the small sink, he leaned in for a closer look. Teeth marks.

Suddenly, a naked Ray appeared behind him, and strong muscular arms circled Jared. “Do you want coffee or a blowjob?” Ray stroked Jared’s flaccid penis back to life.

Jared melted back against him. “I want to get fucked.” Then he remembered. “You bit me.”

Ray inspected his handiwork. “So? You know you like it rough. You were so fucking hot, you didn’t even feel it.”

“You broke the skin.”

“Don’t be a wuss. I had my rabies shot.”

“Very funny.”

Ray kissed the mark. “It’s a love bite. Means you’re mine. Forever.”

Jared sighed. “I don’t need a mark to remind me. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Come back to bed and I’ll prove it.”

 

Happy Reading!

 

Available at

Changeling Press | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

 

 

Author Bio and Links

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Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

 

Website | Blog | Twitter | FaceBook | Instagram | Pinterest

 

 

 

#ThrowbackThursday – Moonlight Hero #PNR #werewolves #romance

Hero #3

Alpha werewolf Gabriel Andrews is content with his life, even if it’s a bit lonely. He wants what every wolf wants — his mate. When a stunning woman darts into his garage, panting for breath and looking more than a little frightened, his wolf sits up and takes notice. She smells enticing and a hunger grows inside of Gabriel, and he knows he must have her. But loving Kiera will not be an easy task with a ravenous vampire hot on her trail. It seems his little shifter mate is something a little more, and it will take him and an entire pack to keep her safe.

Amazon / iTunes / Barnes & Noble / Bookstrand

Excerpt

Kiera ran on silent feet through the darkened alley.  It probably would have been easier to escape if she had shifted into her animal form, but then she would have been stuck without clothes later.  That would have been a little hard to explain to the average human.

Running for all she was worth, she could sense the vampire’s presence not far behind her.  Going into that bar was the dumbest thing she had ever done! Why had she allowed the girls to talk her into it?  Shaking her head, she continued to the end of the alley.  Hopefully, she would live to see another day.

When she reached the corner, she looked around.  There wasn’t much nearby except an old Victorian home and an auto repair shop.  Noticing the lights were on in the auto shop, she hurried across the street.  Reaching for the door, she glanced over her shoulder and gasped.  The vampire was standing on the corner under the street lamp.  To a passerby he would seem harmless, but Kiera knew better, knew him for the predator he was.  She was trembling as she watched the vampire; she knew he could smell her fear but was helpless to do anything about it.

Pushing the door open, Kiera rushed inside.  As soon as she closed the door, she turned the lock.  The logical part of her brain was calling her an idiot for thinking a lock would keep out a vampire, but her self-preservation skills were kicking in.  That small piece of metal made her feel a little bit safer, even if her safety was nothing more than an illusion.

Across the room, Gabriel heard the door close and lock.  As he slid out from under the Mustang he had been working on, he noticed the disheveled woman warily watching the street through the glass door.  He got up and walked slowly toward her. Taking in her creamy complexion, petite stature and long ebony hair, his body immediately responded to her.  She was definitely something to look at, curved in all the right places.

“May I help you?” he asked.

Kiera gasped and spun toward the deep voice.  Momentarily startled, she regained her composure, trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible.  “Is it alright if I stay here for a minute?”

Gabriel casually looked her over, appreciating the way her black dress clung to her curves. “Everything okay?”

Kiera glanced back outside.  The vampire was still on the corner, watching her every move.  She knew that he was waiting for her to leave.  It wasn’t fair to involve this stranger in her problems, but she didn’t have much of a choice if she wanted to live.  And she definitely wanted to live!

Looking back at Gabriel, she said, “That man across the street has been following me.  I’m a little nervous about going back outside.”

Gabriel looked through the glass door.  Sure enough, a tall blond man was standing on the corner, watching them.  An inner voice was screaming at him that the man was a vampire and to be wary.  Gabriel shook his head, clearing the ridiculous thought from his mind. Vampires?  He was starting to lose it. Granted, being an alpha werewolf made him believe in the impossible, but he had yet to see proof that vampires existed.

Gently taking her arm, he pulled her away from the door. “You’re safe here.  You can stay as long as you need to.”

Kiera gave him a shaky smile. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

“Since I’m offering sanctuary, mind telling me how that guy ended up following you?”  If he was getting pulled into a domestic dispute, now was the time to find out.  The last thing he needed was an angry husband coming after him.

Kiera sighed, realizing she could only tell him half of the truth.   If she said that a vampire was following her, she had no doubt she would be dragged off to the loony bin.  Granted, that would be the perfect ending to her not so perfect day, but she would prefer to not land herself in a padded cell.

“The short version is that he tried to pick me up in a bar.  I told him that I wasn’t interested, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.  When I left, he followed me.  He kind of gave me the creeps so I ran.” 

Something seemed a little off with her story.  If she had been running, why wasn’t she winded?    Not that he wouldn’t have enjoyed watching her run in that skin tight dress and heels; it definitely would have been a sight to behold, especially with her being so top heavy. He almost grinned at the image his mind was creating.

Giving himself a mental shake, he asked, “How did you end up here at my garage?  There isn’t a bar for at least three or four miles.”

Kiera hoped the shock didn’t show on her face.  Had she really run that far? “I guess I got lost.  I was just trying to get away from him and didn’t really pay attention to where I was going.” 

She knew her excuse sounded feeble, but she couldn’t very well tell him she was a werefox, giving her more agility and stamina than your average human.  There were some things that humans just weren’t prepared to hear.  The fact that “make believe” creatures really existed ranked high on that list.

Gabriel looked skeptical. There had to be more to her story than that, but obviously she wasn’t going to share the full tale.  “What’s your name?”

“Kiera.”

“I’m Gabriel.”

Kiera smiled. “It’s nice to meet you.  I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Do you need to use the phone to call someone?  It doesn’t look like that guy is leaving anytime soon,” Gabriel said, glancing out the door.

“Oh.” Kiera followed his gaze. Sure enough, the vampire was still watching from across the street. “Um, I don’t really have anyone to call.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.  Just what kind of trouble was she in?  She didn’t look more than twenty-one or so.  A deep primal instinct arose, making him want to comfort her and protect her.  The wolf in him responded to her soft feminine scent while the man responded to her lush curves.  She didn’t even reach his shoulder, which told him that she was under five-foot two since he was a little over six-feet tall.  She wasn’t bone thin like a lot of woman he’d met, but she wasn’t fat either.  Her elfin shaped face held full rosy lips and beautiful green eyes that were almost almond shaped.  They reminded him of cat eyes. 

Kiera noticed the appraisal.  “I don’t want to keep you from your work.  Please don’t feel like you have to keep me company.”

Gabriel grunted, noting the obvious dismissal.  Evidently mechanics weren’t good enough for her. He should have known that a woman as pretty and as well dressed as this one was would have an attitude.  Paper pushers were probably more her style; wealthy paper pushers.

“Guess I can finish up this job while you wait to see if your admirer goes away.”

Walking away from her, he slowly climbed back under the Mustang.  It was difficult to concentrate on his work, but he managed.  There was something about her that wasn’t entirely human.  He knew she wasn’t a werewolf, but she was definitely something special.  His alpha instincts told him that she was a mate for his pack.  Since Cole was already married, that meant that she belonged to either him or Michael.  Just thinking of Michael being with her made him grind his teeth.

Kiera watched Gabriel effortlessly slide under the car.  She started feeling light headed and realized that she had been holding her breath.  He was the most gorgeous guy she had ever seen!  Easily over six-feet tall, he had medium length black hair, piercing blue eyes, and was well muscled.  It had been difficult to not throw herself into his arms. If he had stood by her much longer, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her hands to herself.  She hoped that he hadn’t noticed the effect he had on her.  Her animal instincts were going to get her into trouble one of these days.

As she glanced back out the door, she realized that the vampire was crossing the street.  Startled, she instinctively started backing toward Gabriel.  It wasn’t fair to ask for his protection, but she had never been so terrified in her life.  She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the mechanic made her feel safe and protected.

Hearing her footsteps drawing near, Gabriel slid out from under the car and looked up at her. “What’s wrong Kiera?”

“He’s coming over. I know that I have no right to ask this, but please help me.”  As she looked down at him, her eyes were wide with fear.  Her heart had doubled its rhythm and felt as it would burst from her chest. 

Spotlight: Cyclops by @GaleStanley @changelingpress #PNR #romance #werewolves

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Cyclops (Watchdogs 1) by Gale Stanley

Cover art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Paranormal, Werewolves, Gay, Action Adventure & Suspense, New Releases, Romance

Length: Novella

Page Count: 43

Ray Miller finds his calling in the Army, but an explosion in Afghanistan takes his left eye and his career. Set adrift, he turns to alcohol, until an old army buddy shows up and offers Ray a job. Now Ray has a secret identity. He puts his combat skills to use as Cyclops, a paid assassin who rids the government of bad guys.

Then, one day a chance meeting sets off sparks, and Ray falls for a man who could destroy him. Hooking up with a cop is reckless, but the sex rocks Ray’s world. How long can he hide his secrets before the hitman becomes the target?

Excerpt

Mission accomplished. A simple in and out job, take aim at the target and pull the trigger. Now it was time to vanish, lie low and keep my head down. I usually played by the rules, but tonight I didn’t want to be alone. Danger is an aphrodisiac and I was one anxious horndog. I didn’t sniff trouble in the wind, so I went to Jared’s apartment, where I could keep my head down and suck his cock at the same time.

My digital car clock said three am when I pulled into a dark spot behind Jared’s building. He’d be asleep, so I let myself in with the key he’d given me. I shed my clothes in the living room and left them on the floor. I wanted to slip into bed beside Jared and surprise him. Quiet as a church mouse, I opened the bedroom door. A floorboard creaked as I stepped over the threshold. The light came on, blinding me for a few seconds.

Jared sat up and looked daggers at me. “Do you know what time it is, Ray?”

I grinned sheepishly. “Time to get busy?”

“What were you doing until 3 am?”

“Missing you.”

“Right.” Jared threw a pillow at me. “Go home, Ray.”

I picked up the pillow and walked over to the bed. “Don’t be such a sourpuss.” I tucked the pillow behind his back. Yawning, I scrubbed a hand through my regulation cut, two inches of hair on the top of my head, and tapered down the sides and back. I like to leave a little for Jared to pull on. The thought made my dick even harder.

Jared lay down and put an arm over his face. “I have to get up for work in a few hours. Lock the door on your way out.”

I sat on the bed and slid my hand under the sheet. Jared’s limp dick didn’t budge when I made contact. Damn, he really was pissed. “Okay, go to sleep. I’ll just lie next to you.”

“I don’t want you here, Ray.”

My temper rose, but I tamped it down. I have a short fuse but I try to lengthen it around Jared. A few slow deep breaths calmed me down. I pulled Jared’s arm back and stared at his face. His eyes were closed and it was hard to tell if he meant what he said. “Look at me, babe.”

Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. God, he was gorgeous. Honey brown hair framed high cheekbones and emerald green eyes. “Come on, babe, you know you don’t mean it.”

Jared and I had been together for eight months, and I’d gotten used to having a steady fuck, or as steady as it could be in my line of work. I didn’t see Jared as much as he would have liked, and the longer we were together, the harder it was to explain my absences. But, nothing worthwhile came easy and I was determined to keep him. I liked knowing Jared was there when I needed him. And right then, I needed him bad.

Available at

Changeling Press | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

About the Author

Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Website | Blog | Twitter | FaceBook | Instagram | Pinterest

 

 

Happy Reading!

 

 

 

Spotlight: A Slave’s Price by Shelby Morgan #DarkFantasy #kindleunlimited @changelingpress

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$3.99 or FREE with Kindle Unlimited

Purchase at Amazon

The shape-shifting women of clan Wolf make the best lovers on earth – if they don’t kill you.

The Way Of The Wolf… In a world befraught with racial prejudices and dangerous lovers, Humans, Barbarians, Dwarfs, Elves, Fey, Orcs, Ogres, and Trolls vie for the same territories. Lady Evalayna buried her past and sacrificed her personal desires to raise House Lochinvar to High House over all the Wolf Clan. Will her own children find love? Or will Evalayna rule their lives as her mother sought to control hers?

Politics… Cassadara, youngest daughter of House Lochinvar, is to travel across the wastelands to the northernmost outpost of the Humans. Her mission: negotiate a truce with the House of Yarishet. Just the sort of assignment the young Shaman expects — pointless and boring. Until her party is attacked by marauding Orcs — Orcs? In the wastelands? — and she’s left without an escort. To make matters worse, now she must negotiate with the Dwarven Slave Trader Argolyn for a Warrior guide.

Legend… The shape-shifting women of Clan Wolf make the best lovers on Earth — if they don’t kill you. Mâkakao has dreamed of a Wolf woman for his own since he came of age. Yet as he’s soon to discover, every fantasy has its price!

Excerpt

The noise of the marketplace rose like the shrill whine of wildfire. The press of bodies around her became oppressive, sucking the air out of her lungs. Cassadara shifted her armor, automatically standing taller, straighter, as if her imperious stance could somehow remove her from the filth and squalor. Her nose wrinkled in distaste, but she refused to acknowledge the underling who groveled before her. The Dwarf was not worthy of her attention.

The trader’s voice droned on, extolling the virtues of yet another chunk of Human waste. The slaves all looked the same. The Dwarf dragged them out of their pen in a string, chained together like so many goats on a tether. Warriors, indeed. None of them would even raise their eyes to look at her. She terrified them. To a man, they would rather die here than travel with her.

Something inside her turned cold as the arctic spring. These Humans were nothing. Spineless bundles of flesh huddled together, trying to hang on to their miserable existence. They meant nothing to her. Let them stay here and earn their freedom in the pit if they could.

Cassadara crushed the courier’s message and tossed the paper into the fire. Unfortunately, she couldn’t rest until she had fulfilled Lady Evalayna’s directive. Irritated, perhaps unreasonably so, she thumped the small bag of gold coins against her leg. Even with the words burned to a crisp, Cassadara could hear Mother’s voice as if the Lady had just spoken aloud.

“Although I am pleased to ken ye survived the Orcs’ assault on thy escort, I fear for thy safety. I wouldna’ have ye travel alone. Go ye to the Dwarf called Argolyn in the City of Stone. This vile creature claims to have one of our own amongst his slaves. Such a thing canna’ be allowed. In freeing this Warrior, ye shall also secure a second sword arm to stand at thy back. May the gods be with ye.”

A second sword arm. A slave. Cassadara felt her frustration mount as she surveyed the expanse of Human degradation. She would find no Warriors here. She had sent to Mother asking for a company of Northland Soldiers — her own men, who would gladly follow her into battle if need be rather than cower in fear of her while the enemy hacked them to pieces. Instead Mother sent the Mage Shammall and a small bag of gold. Cassadara would rather have traveled alone than take on the added burden of another responsibility. But there was no defying Mother.

At least the errand boy had spirited himself away after delivering Mother’s instructions. She’d rather deal with the Dwarf than that damnable Mage.

“This one is a true Warrior, Lady. He is strong and well-endowed.”

Cassadara looked down, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Argolyn was attempting to call her attention to yet another of the objects huddled in the mud. His sales pitch, delivered in Dwarven, sounded like he was trying to clear phlegm from his throat.

“Stand up!” the flesh-monger hissed. The slave made no move to obey. The trader kicked the battered body at his feet. The Dwarf received as his reward a glare of defiance from deep green eyes glinting like ivy-etched steel. Her attention secured, Cassadara watched the scene unfold like a play. The trader yanked ferociously on the chain by which his property was bound, cutting off the slave’s air supply. Cassadara wondered why blood didn’t spurt from the Human’s neck.

The Dwarf kicked the slave yet again, ignoring the choking wheeze of the Human’s strangled breath. The lack of oxygen had the desired effect. Almost insolently, the man at Argolyn’s feet rose. Grabbing hold of the chain threaded through the torc around his neck, he hauled himself up hand over hand, using the sturdy Dwarf as anchorage. Up and up and up the Human rose, until he towered over the Dwarf, who reached barely to his crotch.

Undaunted, the trader fisted his hand in the fabric of the man’s tunic, yanking the thin covering from the battered body with one swift jerk. A grubby paw poked at the slave’s testicles, as if to make sure Cassadara had an unobstructed view. “You see, Mistress, there is enough here to satisfy even a member of the Wolf Clan!”

To his credit, the Human barely flinched as the Dwarf displayed him.

Cassadara’s focus lingered for a moment on a cock that hinted, even flaccid, at enough size and girth to be worth a second look, before she let her gaze wander back to the slave’s face. His attention still centered on the Dwarf, his eyes blazed with cold, bare defiance. This one could not have been a slave for long. Although his body had been damaged, his spirit had yet to be broken. Still, he had obviously learned better than to actually attempt to attack the Dwarf. One move of the slave’s hands, chained though they were, and the guards would beat the man to a bloody pulp.

What did his spirit matter? She wasn’t here to secure a personal slave for the night’s usage. She didn’t want a man who would fight her, and the Human would never travel willingly at her side. Besides, without the guards around, the Human might be hard to control. He was not the Clansman Mother had sent her to free. Cassadara didn’t bother to look back at Argolyn. She answered in the common tongue of merchants, refusing to expend the energy necessary to spit out the words in the Dwarf’s own language. “Thy merchandise is unacceptable.” She turned away, as if to move on.

“You need not fear me, Mistress. You would be safe with me.” The words were spoken in High Elven, a language that managed to capture the essence of poetry in its most common vocabulary. The voice caressed her, sliding over her skin like silk in the darkness, little more than a low rumble that might have come from Earth herself.

Who

Cassadara raised an eyebrow in surprise as she turned back, surveying the man again. The Human had dared to address her — and in a language almost unknown in these parts. He had taken great risk to speak to her privately. Why? ‘Twas a foolish risk that might well earn him yet another beating.

Cassadara’s curiosity trapped her. Did he not know who she was? Did he not know what she was?

Deep green eyes clashed with hers, anything but subservient. Surprisingly, she saw no trace of fear. Instead she saw wariness mixed with desperation. The Human knew his fate. Unless she purchased his contract, the man would undoubtedly die here.

So. This slave was willing to cross the lines of race and class to save his own life. Yet somewhere within his battered body the man retained enough pride to keep him from begging.

Intriguing.

She stepped closer — close enough to smell the foul odor coming from the pen where the men were kept. By the gods, this one was tall. He was almost as tall as her brother Tyrell — the slave was certainly the tallest Human she had ever seen. Taller by far than her own six-foot-four. At this distance she would actually have to tilt her head to meet the man’s eyes, so she didn’t. Instead she trailed her gaze over his body, surveying every inch of him, looking beneath the filth to see the long, lean muscles on a powerful frame, capable of grueling days of marching and hard hours of fighting.

The Human was too large and well built to have escaped the arena. The spectators would love to see this one fight. She let her gaze wander the length of him again, frankly curious about those other attributes the Dwarf had mentioned. This time his cock responded, jumping to life as if she had stroked him with her fingers instead of her eyes.

Fascinating.

He was indeed well endowed — far better equipped than she would have expected for a Human. As she watched, his cock grew harder, bobbing its deep crimson head as if straining to reach her.

She hadn’t even touched him yet and he was already hard for her?

Despite the chill of the arctic spring, a fine sheen of sweat stood out on the Human’s body now, trickling down his smooth, naked chest. She found herself imagining licking the sweat from his bronzed skin. Her nipples hardened at the thought of what he might be able to do with that equipment.

Did he want her? Or merely the freedom her money could purchase for him?

She’d heard tales of Human lovers. The Humans might not be good for aught else, but they were said to make incredible mates. She followed the line of sweat back up, gradually returning her attention to the man’s face. He let her look her fill without comment, though his cock jumped again as if she’d caressed him rather than merely admired from a few feet away. A single drop of moisture leaked from its tip. She wondered briefly what he might taste like. Just how different were Humans?

Cassadara hid her smile. She was fairly certain he was not what Mother had had in mind.

She answered in the common tongue, wanting to be sure the Dwarf understood every word she said. “Why should I trust ye, Human? I know what thy people think of my kind. Ye call my race Barbarians. Yet ye condone this.”

The sweep of her hand indicated not just the squalid pens huddled at the base of the cliffs, but the amphitheatre-like arena at the far edge of the camp, and indeed the whole system by which men were bought and sold like sled dogs.

“Why would I pay this Dwarf for thy services? As soon as we are away from this place, ye shall try to kill me. Then ye shall die, and I shall be out a great deal of gold. I have no time to worry over the likes of ye.”

“Then do not hold me as a slave,” he answered, once again in Elven. “Let the price of my freedom be my indenture. I will pledge myself to your service. Allow me to earn my freedom and I will prove my loyalty beyond the boundaries of race and class.”

The Dwarf looked perturbed by the banter, but if he did not understand, Cassadara surely would not translate. This time she answered the Human in Elven as well. “Ye would never live to see thy freedom, Human. No’ where I go.”

The man didn’t deny the truth of her words. Instead he stared back at her, holding her attention with the intensity of his gaze, his eyes asking for her faith. “I know where you are bound, M’Lady. I will gladly die beside you if that is the will of the gods.” He swayed unsteadily on his feet, righting himself before he toppled back into the mud. “Better to die in battle at your side than here in the pits for the entertainment of the Lords and Ladies. Death in the arena robs a Warrior of his honor.”

Cassadara examined the Human again, using her gift this time. A long half-healed gash ran the length of his shield arm from shoulder to elbow. Heat radiated from the wound, a sure sign the cut was infected. She looked deeper. Beneath the bruises his ribs were cracked, and his knuckles were swollen and bloody. He had undoubtedly survived several rounds in the arena already. His face, half-hidden under untrimmed fur, looked hollow and gaunt.

He’d take a great deal of healing to be of any use. If she bought this one she would be spending days in this hellhole of a town before the man was ready to travel. Worse yet, healing him would leave her exhausted and vulnerable — and at his mercy.

Cassadara let her gaze drift down to that thick, weeping cock again. “If I buy thy indenture, what will ye do for me?”

“Whatever you wish, M’Lady.” Deep green eyes warmed slightly, lending character to the face where she’d seen only anger and despair. “In my homeland, I am known as a man of my word. I pledge to serve you loyally.”

Cassadara touched the tip of her tongue to suddenly dry lips. At her frank perusal, the Human’s cock bobbed stiffly against his belly, looking painfully hard. Dampness stained the inside of her thighs. Yes. If he knew how to properly entertain a woman, he might be worth the time and trouble he would undoubtedly cause.

When her gaze traveled back up the length of him, his eyes met hers with a trace of something that might have been a grin. “I can cook.”

The man knew he had her attention. Cassadara fought to keep her expression distant as she turned back to the Dwarf, addressing him once more in the common tongue. “How much?”

Argolyn answered in his own tongue, disdaining the common vernacular. “For you, fifty gold pieces, Mistress.”

“He paid but fifteen,” the Human offered in that same guttural language.

The powerful Dwarf snapped the chain in a move that dumped the man back on his knees in the mud. “Silence! Your upkeep alone has near bankrupted me!”

“I have earned you ten times my purchase price,” the Human argued. “If your word meant anything, I would own my freedom by now!”

If she left the man here, the Dwarf would surely beat him for such audacity. Cassadara stepped between them, distracting the Dwarf. She moved her shoulders in a studied show of disinterest. “This Human is indeed well-endowed, but he is insolent. He is no’ worth the fifteen ye paid for him. Where is the Northland Warrior ye promised?”

The Dwarf allowed himself to be distracted. “This is the Warrior we spoke of, M’Lady. Truly he has done well in the pit, though he has not yet won the Grande Mêlée. That event does not come here until after the thaw.”

Cassadara tapped her foot impatiently. “Warrior or no’, he is no’ one of my people. Ye have lied to Mother. Lady Lochinvar will be much angered with ye.”

Argolyn spread his hands wide, his face a mask of innocence. “He is big. He is strong. He is well equipped. I sent word to Lady Lochinvar only that I had an acceptable candidate. Come back tomorrow. I will have broken him for you.”

Broken. Aye. That he would be. Cassadara felt a surge of pity well up. She suppressed her weaker emotions with the harshness of reality. “I have no time to waste with ye. If he is the best ye have, he will have to suffice. I will give ye thirty and leave with him now.”

“M’Lady, surely you jest. A big strong fighter like this will bring near to one hundred after the Mêlée.”

“Then wait for the Mêlée. Away with ye.” From down below in the mud, eyes flavored with desolation searched for hers. Did he understand nothing of trading? Cassadara intentionally looked away. She spun on her heel and headed toward the gates.

A filthy little hand tugged at her sleeve. “Please, Mistress, let us not haggle over money. I can see you desire this slave. Enjoy him. My gift to you at only forty gold pieces.”

A slight metallic ping sounded as her short sword leaped into her hand. Her voice hissed out low and flat. “Remove thy hand from my person while ye still possess a hand to remove.”

The Dwarf drew back stiffly, but swallowed his pride in the face of the threat in her eyes. “You drive a hard bargain, M’Lady. Thirty it is.”

Her upper lip curled in a sneer. “Twenty-five.”

Argolyn stared up at her for the space of two long, deeply drawn breaths. “Twenty-five.”

The sword slipped soundlessly back into its sheath. Cassadara withdrew the coins from her leather pouch and dropped them. Argolyn picked the coins deftly out of the air as they fell. Short stubby fingers extended a large iron ring toward her. “Your keys, M’Lady.”

She stepped back, refusing to touch the tainted metal. “Ye may keep thy chains.”

“M’Lady! Think what you say! Surely you cannot mean to –”

Her hand still rested on the pommel of her sword. “The purchase is made. The Human belongs to me. I do no’ wish him to serve me in bondage. Remove thy chains.”

The protest died on the Dwarf’s lips. Wordlessly he unlocked the wrist cuffs, yanking the chain through the rings on the torc that shackled the man’s neck. Ignoring both the Dwarf and the pain of the twisted torc, the Human kept his gaze fastened on Cassadara. He still clutched his tattered tunic. Cassadara watched in fascination as he tied the remains about his waist, concealing that rigid cock. Despite his privation, he retained some degree of modesty.

“You were not told to dress!” Argolyn barked, snaking out a grubby paw to yank the shredded tunic away from the man.

Cassadara caught the Dwarf’s wrist in a grip as strong as his own. “Ye shall no’ touch what is mine. No’ now. No’ ever. Neither ye nor any of thy men.”

Rage colored the trader’s face. With his free hand he grasped a talisman hung about his neck on an ancient leather cord. “Take him and be gone.”

Something sharp brushed against her mind. Cassadara dropped the Slaver’s arm, suddenly finding him far too filthy to touch.

“You shall regret your treatment of me,” the Dwarf hissed as he turned and stalked away, rubbing his injured wrist.

“Harm what is mine, and ye shall no’ live to ponder my fate,” Cassadara promised his retreating backside.

Truth be told, she already regretted having dealt with the little Slaver at all. She had no wish to own another, nor be responsible for anyone other than herself. Yet here she was.

She turned back to the Human. Eyes fixed on her feet in a traditional show of subservience, the man knelt before her in the mud, his ripped tunic clutched around him. Ice crystals were already forming in the man’s beard. Pity swayed Cassadara yet again. She unbuckled her cloak and settled the heavy wool over his shoulders. Green eyes raised up to meet hers, still wary, but there was something in them she hadn’t seen there before.

Hope.

The hope was tempered by uncertainty, but it was there.

The torc still marked the man as a slave. Cassadara saw no smith about whose forge she might use. She hated to touch iron. Still, she would have to touch the man if she was to heal him, probably more than once. Better to deal with the cursed iron now than endure its taint.

Sliding one hand under the twisted band to protect his neck, she closed her eyes and focused on the welded lock. She pictured the metal heating under her fingers until it was soft and malleable. Using all of the strength of her race and her magic, she twisted the welded hasp until the metal crumbled beneath her fingers. The lock sprung, allowing another few inches of space between the ends of the band. As gently as she could, she spread the worn collar apart and removed the hideous thing from about his bloodied neck. Venting her anger on the metal, she flung the filthy piece of iron out across the tundra.

The Human said nothing, only continued to stare up at her as he rubbed dirt stained fingers against the raw wound at his throat.

She extended her hand to him, but he made no move to accept her help. Her temper leapt to the surface again as she let her hand drop back to her side. This was a poor start to things.

No. She would not judge him on the basis of race alone. Perhaps he had simply misread her intent. She tried again, choosing her words with care as she addressed him in his own language. “Are ye fit enough to travel?”

Understanding flickered across his face. Still watching her intently, he rose cautiously to his feet. “Aye, M’Lady.” Even as he spoke, he swayed like a drunkard.

She sighed, knowing he was not fit to go anywhere but to bed. “Have ye a name?”

He blinked in surprise. “To my friends I am known as Mâkakao.”

Cassadara twisted her tongue around the foreign name. “Makâ…”

“Mâkakao,” he repeated.

She laughed at her own clumsiness with the name. “Mâk?”

His lips turned up slightly at one corner. “Mâk.”

“As much as I admire thy body, I would no’ have ye travel with me naked, Mâk. Ye will attract the wrong sort of attention. Get ye to yon merchants and see to thy clothing. Something sturdy, but light enough to travel in. Get ye outfitted. A warm tunic and light armor and a traveling cape. Whatever else ye shall have need of. And get ye a good sword.”

He stared at the bag of coins she pressed into his hand. His voice sounded odd when he finally spoke. “You would trust me in this, M’Lady?”

Cassadara looked up and down the one mud path that ran between the stone huts of the merchants. “Would ye rather remain here?”

A smile, a real one at last, stole through his reserve. The smile touched his face with the promise of beauty. “No. No, M’Lady, I would not.”

“Mâk?” She spoke softly as he started to turn away.

“M’Lady?” On his lips the word sounded like a caress.

“Find ye a bath and a barber.”

Green eyes turned stormy gray. A flush stole over his cheeks. “As you wish, M’Lady.”

He thought she meant him to prepare himself for her bed? The idea was not unpleasant, but he was in no condition to enjoy such exercise at the moment, and she had no wish to kill him. Cassadara smothered her laughter. “Have the barber see to thy arm. I would no’ have thy wound heal badly.”

He flinched as if she had hit him. “‘Tis nothing, M’Lady. A scratch of no importance.”

“Have the wound seen to,” she insisted. “And get ye something to eat. A good dinner may cure what ails ye.”

The Human inclined his head in a show of respect. “M’Lady.”

She liked the way the title sounded when he spoke. Almost as if his words caressed her. Still…”Cassadara. If we are to share this journey, ye might as well know my name.”

One corner of his mouth lifted up. “I know your name, M’Lady. In the language of the Fey, your name means Daughter of the Wind. I think all in these parts know your name by now.”

“Then ye shall have no trouble finding me when ye are outfitted and ready to depart. I shall be at yon tavern at the edge of what passes here for a town. I have paid for a room there for the night, but I would rather leave this place behind us.” She let her attention flick briefly toward the Slaver’s hut. “Have caution. I do no’ trust the Dwarf.”

His eyes warmed slightly. “I will return to you, M’Lady.”

If he did not, she would be out nothing but a small bag of Mother’s coin. She watched the tall Human turn and walk away, admiring the hard angles of his shoulders beneath the cape. Somehow she trusted he would be good to his word. Cassadara thought briefly of the Human’s other attributes and smiled to herself. Perhaps she would not regret this bargain after all.

Even as the thought occurred to her, the Human stumbled up the steps to the nearest merchant’s hut, clutching at the doorframe as he tried to right himself. Cassadara sighed. With a movement as swift as her name implied, she reached his side. Although she was shorter by a hand’s breadth than any of her clansmen, she had at least inherited the strength of her race. She gathered the man into her arms as she would have an injured child. Even through the wool of the cape, she could tell he was burning up with a fever that had not been there a few minutes ago.

Eyes the color of wintergreen sought hers as thick ebony lashes parted. “The Dwarf…”

She too remembered the Dwarf laying his hand on the talisman.

His voice trailed off and his eyes slipped closed, only to jerk suddenly open again. “Please, do not let me die in this place, M’Lady,” he implored. “Not here. The tundra…”

“Ye shall no’ die. No’ here. No’ today. I give ye my word.”

His eyes slid closed again. “Clan of the Wolf is known for keeping its word,” he whispered. As if the effort of speaking had been too much, his head lolled loosely to one side.

The door before her gave way at a kick from her fine steel-clad boot. A tiny merchant woman looked up at them in terror, reaching for a pitiful excuse for a knife.

“I have need of thy assistance,” Cassadara explained calmly. “I shall pay thee well.”

About Shelby

Shelby Morgen loves writing offbeat tales that defy as many rules as possible. She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex. She’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy and paranormal from mixing with her kink. Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her longtime friend and partner, Bill, her husband of 35 plus years. Find more of Shelby’s titles at Changeling Press — http://www.changelingpress.com/author.php?uid=21.

SPOTLIGHT: Savage Protector @MeganSlayer @changelingpress #GayRomance #PNR #LGBT

1923

Sometimes it takes a strong man to get the job done.

Who knew walking in the woods would lead to the adventure of his life? Not Hans. Being held captive by robbers isn’t his idea of fun, but there’s a silver lining in the form of a hunky wolf shifter. Hans is coming into his own and realizing the depths of his brawn, but things aren’t what they seem. Can Hans sort out his feelings for the wolf and defeat the forces working to keep them from their happily ever after before time runs out?

Buy It Here

Excerpt

“Black Forest City is a realm.” Pietro folded his arms. “It’s where all the shifters, vampires, Faeries, you name it, can live without being punished. They can do all the strange things they do without the humans freaking out. If you got in, you must’ve had some sort of Faery blood in you or something.”

Faery blood? “You’re here.”

“I shift into a wolf. I track, attack, and get the hell out before the cops see me.”

That made sense. The Captain took in people he could use. “He wanted you for recon. May I see you in your wolf form, or is that only when there’s danger?”

Hans couldn’t help but smile. He’d always wanted a dog. He didn’t see Pietro as a simple dog, but then again, three days earlier he wouldn’t have admitted he was gay.

“Yeah.” Pietro sighed and settled on his hands and knees on the floor. He closed his eyes, and the umber hairs on his head spread along his body. His clothes tore and fell into a heap beneath him. His nose elongated, and a tail swished from his backside. Pietro raised his head and let out a howl that echoed through the apartment. Stunned and intrigued by Pietro’s new form, Hans knelt next to his lover and offered his hand. The wolf nudged him, allowing Hans to scratch him behind the ears.

“You’re elegant in this form.”

The wolf licked Hans’ hand.

“I like it.” Hans rested his head on the wolf’s head. “I like it very much. I like you.”

The fur disappeared, and Pietro’s human features returned. “I’m glad you do.” He cupped Hans’ cheek. “I don’t shift for just anyone.”

“You don’t stroll around nude for just anyone, either.” Hans bit back a laugh. “I assume it’s part of the shifting process, clothes getting in the way?”

“They can.” Pietro stood and strolled from the room. He came back a moment later with boxer shorts, socks, a fresh T-shirt, and jeans.

“Why didn’t you take your clothes off before you shifted?” Hans nodded to the shirt. “Might have been easier.”

“I got excited and wanted to show you.”

About the Author

0Wendi

Megan Slayer, aka Wendi Zwaduk, is a multi-published, award-winning author of more than one-hundred short stories and novels. She’s been writing since 2008 and published since 2009. Her stories range from the contemporary and paranormal to LGBTQ and BDSM themes. No matter what the length, her works are always hot, but with a lot of heart. She enjoys giving her characters a second chance at love, no matter what the form. She’s been the runner up in the Kink Category at Love Romances Café as well as nominated at the LRC for best author, best contemporary, best ménage and best anthology. Her books have made it to the bestseller lists on Amazon.com.

When she’s not writing, Megan spends time with her husband and son as well as three dogs and three cats. She enjoys art, music and racing, but football is her sport of choice. Find out more about Megan and Wendi at: http://wendizwaduk.com/indexMegan.htm Sign up for the newsletter here: http://ymlp.com/xgjmjumygmgj

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#NewRelease – Moonlight Surrender #PNR #Fairies #werewolves

MoonlightSurrenderCover

Amazon / Bookstrand
coming soon to iTunes, Kobo, and B&N

Imprisoned by the dark fae for crimes against her people, Tulip was left to rot in the palace dungeon. When she finally escapes, she wills her magick to take her to Ashton Grove, in hopes the wolf pack will help her. She never counted on coming face to face with the most intriguing male she’d ever met, or that he’d be growling and intent on making her pay for a crime she never committed.

Vaughn doesn’t trust the dark fae, especially ones who pop up out of nowhere, but it doesn’t take him long to realize that Tulip is different. His beast rumbles in pleasure when she’s near, and the wolf has never shown the slightest bit of interest in a female before. Claiming her for his mate was never part of the plan, but now that she’s his, he’ll do everything he can to protect her. Even if it means welcoming more fae into his home.

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Tulip tentatively pushed on the door of her cell. It opened with a loud creak that made her wince and she checked the dungeon entrance for approaching soldiers. There had been a shift in the air, and for a moment, it felt like the magick of the dungeon had dissipated. Since Onyx had died at the hands of a wolf pack, she’d been confined to this cage, left to rot. The palace dungeons were spelled to keep even the most powerful fae under lock and key, but for whatever reason, the spells had failed. Tulip crept from her cell and to the large arched doorway that led to freedom.

Her body was weak, and her legs barely held her. Her hands shook as she felt along the dark, damp walls in her search for freedom, the slick stones scraping against her palms. The hair hanging in her face was matted and dirty, and grime covered the rest of her body. It had been months since she’d been put in the dungeon, maybe longer. Time had passed slowly, even for a fae. Taking away her freedom, and locking her in the dark, was cruel for someone who would live for thousands of years. She had little doubt they’d have left her down here for a few hundred years or longer, before remembering she was a prisoner.

As she pressed her back against the wall, Tulip opened her senses and tried to feel for any vibrations in the air that would signal someone’s approach. The dungeons remained cold and silent. Creeping around the corner, she stepped into the corridor and looked around for any signs of nearby soldiers. The place was empty. A shiver raked her spine as she took in the changes to the dark palace. The tapestries hung on the wall like specters and dust covered every surface. Had it been abandoned? Had she been abandoned?

Tulip didn’t dare breathe a sigh of relief just yet, and made her way through the palace and out to freedom. Darkness clung to the palace walls, shadows reaching for her. The air was damp and suffocating; the must from unused rooms surrounded her. She eased through the door and into the courtyard, a place once filled with life and now covered in death and decay. There wasn’t a living soul around, so Tulip closed her eyes and willed herself to the mortal realm, her thoughts on the Ashton Grove pack and safety––and ended up straight in the middle of a bar fight.

The force of a male body slammed her to the sticky floor, the floor hard and unforgiving beneath her slight frame. She cried out as pain rattled her from head to toe. She’d been without magick for so long that she didn’t know if she’d be able to heal herself or not, already feeling bruises form along her hips and back. She shoved at the brute on top of her when he was suddenly lifted and tossed aside. Tulip looked up into the gaze of the most attractive male she’d ever seen. Dark blonde hair fell across his forehead and stormy blue eyes peered down at her. Tattoos peeked out of his shirt and she felt the urge to trace them with her fingers.

Then his eyes flashed yellow, and his fangs lengthened. Tulip let out a small squeak as she scurried away from him, putting a table between them, and nearly falling in her haste. Her legs trembled from the effort of holding herself upright. What she needed was a bath, food, and rest. Lots of rest. She’d been too scared to sleep in the dungeon, for fear things would creep into her cell and nibble at her fingers and toes.

“Fae,” he snarled.

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” She put her up hands. “I need your help.”

He growled and two more wolves joined him, their eyes flashing with anger. She could understand why they wouldn’t trust her kind, after what was done to the alpha’s mate, but it hadn’t been her fault. She’d heard of the plot against Autumn and had done everything in her power to stop Onyx, landing her in the dark fae palace dungeon.

“Why would we help you?” one of them snarled.

“Please, if I could just speak with your alpha.” Her lower lip trembled and she fought back tears. The emotional and mental stress from the last few months was starting to take its toll. The last thing she wanted to do was fall apart in front of the wolves. She needed to be strong. She was strong! But there was only so much a fae could take without feeling a little bit broken. Tulip straightened her shoulders. She hadn’t come this far to fail now.

“You think tears are going to spare you?” the hunky wolf asked.

“I–”

He snarled at her and leapt across the table, grasping her in a tight grip. Pain ricocheted through her body from his rough treatment and she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her lips. Tears pricked her eyes as she stared up at the handsome wolf. It hardly seemed fair that someone so attractive was so vicious. Or maybe it was only because she was fae. She’d hoped the wolves would be understanding, that they would hear her out. Now she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Perhaps she should have run to the light fae and begged for mercy. A swift death would have been preferable to whatever torture the dark fae had planned for her.

“I’ll call the alphas,” one of the other wolves said. “They’ll want to speak with her.”

The third wolf growled low. “I say we tear her apart. Her kind would have done worse to Autumn.”

Tulip’s heart raced as fear coursed through her veins. They wouldn’t really harm her, would they? She’d thought the wolves in Ashton Grove were civilized. Had she been wrong to come here? She’d willed her magick to bring her to the wolves and safety, and it had chosen this bar and the unfriendly wolves in front of her.

She stared up at the wolf holding her and willed him to see her for who she truly was, and not just an evil dark fae. Tulip had never done anything wrong a day in her very long life. It wasn’t her fault she’d been born amongst the dark fae. Her mother had protected her as much as she could, but Tulip had always felt like an outsider amongst her people.

“I’m not like the others,” she told the wolf softly. “You have no reason to trust me, but I honestly mean no harm to anyone in your pack. I have nowhere else to go and need your help.”

“Why would we help you?” he asked harshly.

She wiggled in his grasp. “Please. I’ll show you, but you have to release me.”

His grip loosened and she turned, lifting her hair. She heard his gasp a moment before a callused finger traced the ridges where her wings had once been. She hadn’t seen them, could only feel the pain, but she knew the puckered, angry skin had to look ghastly.

“This is what happens to a fae when she betrays her people,” Tulip said softly. “I did everything in my power to free the light fae, and tried to stop Onyx from coming after your alpha female. This was my reward, along with a trip to the dungeon, where I would have been left to rot until they got around to torturing and killing me.”

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So, what did it take for this book to come into being? TONS of caffeine, some really good music, and a lot of patience from my family. I may or may not have burned dinner a time or two while working on this book. I think “in a minute” became my go-to phrase for a few weeks.

I’m often asked if there were particular songs or movies I listened to or watched while working on certain books. For me, a playlist doesn’t so much have to do with the lyrics as it does the beat. Looking at the song titles for my playlist of this particular book won’t give you much insight into what was going through my mind, but I’m going to share it with you anyway. As you can see, I have rather eclectic taste LOL

  • Love Shack – B52’s
  • Hello, Goodbye – Beatles
  • Kokomo – Beach Boys
  • Roam – B52’s
  • Three Little Birds – Bob Marley
  • Burning House – Cam
  • Goodbye Earl – Dixie Chicks
  • Along Comes a Woman – Chicago
  • Ready to Run – Dixie Chicks
  • Hot Blooded – Foreigner
  • Love the Way You Lie – Eminem
  • Here It Is – Flo Rida
  • Stand – REM
  • Lips of an Angel – Hinder
  • Wild Thing – ToneLoc
  • Red Red Wine – UB40
  • When Will I Be Loved – Linda Ronstadt
  • Hold On – Kansas
  • Work From Home – Fifth Harmony
  • I Am Invincible – Cassadee Pope

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