An ancient and dark predator stalks the pack.

Alena has been hiding from her heritage for years. She left behind her past after the death of her uncle. Now her estranged family has found her and begs her to come home.

Darius has been assigned to investigate the death of two werewolf children and granted a semi-reprieve from his Raven Warrior curse. Not happy with his new mission, Darius discovers the pack’s killer is not the hunter he thinks it is.

Will Alena face her past before the hunter kills again? Can Darius face the ancient evil and live?

 


Excerpt from "Fur & Feathers"

At one counter, he saw Alena chopping something up. She appeared to have been working for a long while since tendrils of her red hair were plastered to her forehead, even though it was back in a ponytail. Her apron was covered in flour and bits of other things. The smells in the kitchen were enticing enough to make his mouth water. The burners had something simmering, keeping warm, or boiling. Whatever was in the pots, she was cooking for a crowd.

She’s cooking for an army. An army of werewolves. Damn does it smell good! I don’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal. She might be trouble, but she seems like one hell of a cook. The Warrior watched the woman work. Alena was so engrossed she didn’t notice he was in the kitchen. She hummed a haunting tune under her breath. The way she moved caught his attention. She was completely unaware of how gorgeous she was even all sweaty and with her hair up. He could see himself taking a romp or a tumble in the grass with her, but if he ever got close to her, he would start turning back into a raven since he was damned. He hardened his jaw and tried to think about another subject. This was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Now was not the time to try to press his luck against the curse. All he wanted was a good fuck. That was what women were good for, he reminded himself.

“Whatever you’re cooking smells wonderful.”

Alena jumped and squeaked like a mouse.

The small sound made Darius smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Alena gave him a wary smile and wiped her forehead. Watching her, he noticed her sleep-laden eyes. He wondered if she had slept much or if she had been working hard most of the day. Wait a minute. What do I care if she didn’t sleep well? I’m losing it.

“No, that’s okay. I wasn’t expecting anyone back this soon. The pack should be gone for a few more hours as they cremate Jamie’s son. The ceremony won’t be done for a while.”

“Why aren’t you with them? You are family, aren’t you?”

Alena stopped chopping what appeared to be a carrot and met his gaze. He felt her power rise around her like a steel vault. She was not going to let anyone into her mind if she didn’t want them to be there. “I’m . . . well, I’m just not welcome at the funeral.”

She heard something boiling over and went to attend it. She seemed so frazzled by his question that she dipped her fingers into the water to fish out her wooden spoon, which had slipped in, and pulled her hand away quickly, cupping her palm to her chest. A nasty scald appeared on her flesh.

“Here, let me see.”

“What? Shit.”

Darius walked over to her and slipped the bracelet into his pant’s pocket. He held out his hand. “I said let me see your hand.”

Alena looked at him suspiciously but slowly extended her hurt hand. The flesh was lobster red. He wondered why she was not healing like the other wolves. Maybe she didn’t possess that power. He held her by the wrist and held his other hand a few inches above the flesh of her open palm. He held tight, and she bit her lip to keep in a cry of pain from him crunching her bones together. “Sorry.”

The Warriors had the power to heal humans. Healing was not something they did on a regular basis. It was part of their magick in case they needed to heal one of their charges. Caleb had taught him how to heal, and Darius used the power very rarely. He quieted his thoughts and felt his energy gather in the center of his palm. He closed his eyes, and when he did, the energy he imagined flowing between him and the woman left him in a cool surge, like a subtle electric spark snapping between them. When he opened his eyes, Darius felt the energy moving between them. He took in Alena while she stared at her hand, watching the flesh go from red to pink and then back to its normal hue.

After a moment, his power dissipated. He dragged his hand over her flesh to see if her skin was as soft as it appeared. Alena looked up and stared deep into his eyes. He felt the wall around her emotions and knew her mind was as closed to him as Vincent’s was last night. Darius absently traced the lines in her hand. She stepped closer to him until they were only inches apart. She was shorter than he. Her head barely reached his chin. Then again, he was tall, almost six four. The aroma of hibiscus and roses caught him instead of the food. Her scent. He let go of her wrist, losing himself in her eyes, swirling eyes which darted back and forth trying to read his, but he kept his mind closed to her. She reached up and caressed the side of his face. His groin tightened. His heart nearly stopped and then shot forward. He had to fight just to hold onto his control from her gesture.

This woman should not be affecting me this way. But he seemed to have lost control. He was outside of himself, watching his movements and yelling to himself to stop before he began to change. Alena stood up on tiptoe, reaching up and pulling him closer to her lips. He studied her lips. They were light pink with fine lines etched into them, parted slightly. Her breath smelled like peppermint, and he wondered if she tasted the same way. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat of the kitchen or maybe from being close to him He didn’t know and he didn’t care. Everything in him wanted to take this woman right on the counter even if she didn’t give her consent. He wanted her badly.



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