Hunter’s Rise

She followed him down the stairs, carefully checking for any signs of she might have left. There wasn’t anything. If he’d left anything when he’d come in earlier, that was his own damn fault.

He could worry about his own ass.

That very, very fine ass . . .

Scowling, she jerked her gaze away from that very, very fine ass and focused on his back instead. Nice back. Leanly muscled. Not bulky though. It was possible for shifters to bulk up—she’d seen it. It was freaky and required a dedication to pumping iron—usually in the seven, eight, nine-hundred pound range, but she didn’t like that kind of mass on a man anyway.

He looked . . . well, like what he was. A leanly muscled wolf in human’s clothing. That skin he wore was the disguise. Once they reached the kitchen, she pushed around him and said, “You know, if you damaged my bike, I’m going to damage you.”

“You’re so violent . . . I love it.” He followed her outside, but before she could get to the bike, he did, using that wolf-quick speed and resting a hand on the handlebars. “I’ll push it out.”

“I can get my own bike,” she said, glaring at him.

“Yeah, and until I’m on the damn bike with you, I’m pushing it. You don’t trust me . . . I don’t trust you, either. I definitely don’t trust you not to try and take off without me.”

Sylvia had to admit. It had occurred to her, more than once, although she’d brushed the idea away almost immediately.

She’d said she’d worked with the jerk. She didn’t go back on her word. Glaring at him, she shoved him back from her bike. Or she tried. He didn’t move. “Look, pal. I said we could do this together. Now will you back off?”

“So you can try to get on it and take off?” He leaned over the bike, pressed his nose against the curve between her neck and shoulder.

Sylvia shuddered, but all he did was breathe her in. “You know, I think I’ll back off. And part of me even hopes you try to run. You know what will happen if you do? I’ll chase you . . . ever been chased by a Hunter, Syl?”

“Don’t call me Syl,” she rasped.
He ignored her, rubbing his cheek against the sensitive flesh of her neck. She needed to push him away. Really. That was what she needed to do. Instead, she just stood there. “You haven’t been chased by one of us. You’ve done a damn good job staying out of our way,” he rumbled, his voice taking on that deep, low rasp. “But you couldn’t do it this time. Know what they say about a Hunter and his prey?”

He bit her.

Sylvia slammed a hand against her bike. If she hadn’t, she just might have collapsed to the ground, a useless puddle of flesh, want and lust.

“Once we get your scent, we never stop.” He lifted his head, staring down at her with eyes that glittered. Eyes that burned. Eyes that glowed. “And Sylvia . . . I’ve got your scent all, fucking over me.”

Her heart beat hard and slow inside her chest. Stifling a groan, she whispered, “Is that a threat, Hunter?”

“No.” He cupped her chin in his hand, stroked his thumb over her lip.

“It’s a promise. And I think you and I both know that I don’t plan on sticking a knife in you. I want something else entirely.” Pressing down against her lip, he held her gaze with his and then asked gruffly, “So . . . are you going to try and run?”

As mentioned… this is the last one.  I hope you enjoy it.  If you’ve never read these books, this one would work just fine as a standalone.  I’d love to send the series out with a bang, so if you’re interested in ordering it?  I’d love it.

B & N | Amazon | Indiebound | Book Depository | BAMM

Don’t forget there’s a contest…I’ve been sort of out, either being sick, being on vacation (both) and haven’t mentioned it much, but it’s got some stuff I picked up on my trip and a gift card and other goodies.