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Authors: Laurel Cremant

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Midnight Mistletoe (A Paranormal Romance) (Golden Pack Alphas) (2 page)

BOOK: Midnight Mistletoe (A Paranormal Romance) (Golden Pack Alphas)
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Sunshine, rum punch and hot men.

Hell, yeah.

Georgia Walker smiled—a contented sigh drifting across her lips as she adjusted the thin straps of her red and white bikini top. Nothing could compare to celebrating Christmas in the Caribbean.

There were no worries over urgent emails, emergency meetings or irate clients—and most importantly she didn’t have to worry about the pressure of being a pack alpha’s daughter or combat the suspicious looks of those who didn’t trust her hybrid birth.

Being born to both a witch and a
were
came with certain privileges and drawbacks.

On one hand she had the strength and stamina of a wolf, on the other her ability to sense when others lied, made more than one pack member wary. The fact that the usual dose of instinct and intuition shifters were normally gifted with was intensified by her mother’s shaman heritage, only seemed to make matters worse.

Not to mention her parent’s recent penchant for matchmaking. Georgia shuddered at the thought of being paraded around a room full of wanna be alphas. Lately she could practically see thought bubbles of grandchildren floating around her mom’s head.

So given a choice, she much preferred her current location than the week of holiday social events her mother planned every year with military precision.

About a two hour’s drive east of Vancouver, her hometown, Golden Valley, sat nestled between tall, rolling mountains and crisp, dense green forests. She would always consider it home, but she had to admit that her current view on the beach held more than a little appeal.

Reclining back on her lounge chair, she closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun sink into her bones.

The limb freezing climate of British Columbia in winter had nothing on the powder soft, sandy beaches, warm, clear-blue waters and cool breezes of Jost Van Dyke.

She’d discovered the little island paradise a year ago while on a case and had never been so happy to stake out a cheating husband.

Her business, a private security and detective firm, had grown a lot in the last five years, and she rarely went on cases herself anymore, but she’d made an exception for her best friend, Kara. Georgia didn’t make friends easily. It was a byproduct of spending most of her days either focused on building up her company, or pack politics. But when she’d hired Kara several years ago as an internet security specialist, the quirky human had wormed her way into Georgia’s heart.

When Kara confided to her that she suspected her husband of cheating, Georgia handled the investigation personally.

Although she’d returned home to deliver divorce inducing news, Georgia had done so with sun streaked hair and a deeper tint to her mahogany toned skin.

Now, thanks to a few new lucrative contracts, she’d had no qualms in splurging on a last minute vacation.

She looked forward to a few days without worrying about urgent emails, pack politics and being away from
him
.

Marcus Legrand.

From the moment he stepped foot in Golden Valley, the tight-backed enforcer set off clanging alarm bells to the tune of Iron Maiden’s
The Number of the Beast
.

She reacted to him in a way that she was woman enough to admit scared her almost witless.

Her usual abilities of intuition rang silent when it came to him. It was as if he constructed a lead wall around his mind and she couldn’t get a read on him—ever.

She couldn’t even anticipate his approaches, and he seemed to revel in his ability to sneak up on her.

But when he was near—her body went on high alert, as if it had been starved for him and she didn’t like it one bit.

When he’d first arrived a year ago, she’d been about to start her heat cycle and meeting him had hurtled her body head first into estrous.

Marcus embodied everything, she fought against her entire life—loss of control.

From a young age she’d always strived for discipline over the urges her wolf and animal nature pushed on her. It was no secret that she was quick to temper, but few ever provoked her to the point of violence. Thanks to her quick wits and gift of clairvoyance, the use of intimidation and fear were her weapons of choice.

Her choice in path had more to do with self-preservation than any lofty ideas on violence.

She’d known early on that her wolf was strong, stronger than even her parents suspected. But a faction of wolves within the community were already suspicious of her. If they learned how much power she truly had, she would never be able to win them over.

The pack was all the family she had. Her mother had been an only child, and the coven she’d once belonged to shunned her when she chose to mate with Georgia’s father.

But all that didn’t matter. Given a choice she would always chose her pack.

Georgia had grown up in pack life and her wolf craved a sense of community. She would do anything to maintain that connection.

For that reason, she rarely shifted and would seldom be found during the group runs and hunts the pack engaged in. Remaining in her human form allowed her to avoid detection.

She recalled the last time she’d shifted—during the rogue attacks the year before. Not only had it been the first time she’d shifted in months, it was the first time she’d seen Marcus’ wolf.

Her father had assembled a small group of fighters, their goal not to engage the rogues, only surround their camp while Marcus investigated. They gathered just outside of the forest surrounding Golden Valley, eager to route the unwanted wolves from their home territory.

Turning her back, she’d let her body contort slowly, making sure not to let her power flare. The others shifted around her and she expected to feel the excitement that always occurred when her wolf recognized the chance to be free—at least for a time. But this time a burst of elation burst through her heart so strong it, left Georgia frozen in shock.

Her wolf blazed a myriad of thoughts and images through her mind, but only one word came through crystal clear.

Mate.

She’d leapt around, her gaze drawn to only one wolf—Marcus.

Her heart thrummed fast as she recalled the image of his wolf. He was beautiful. In that moment she’d seen why the Council had chosen him as enforcer.

Large and hulking, his wolf almost resembled a bear. Even his fur was intimidating, spiked brown with blond tips, reminding her of sharpened spikes.

Shaking her head clear she came back to the present.

Marcus was lethal in more than just his skills as an enforcer.

She refused to let her destiny be determined by a chemical impulse to mate and his presence threatened the hard won control that she’d spent years honing.

The unfairness of it all galled her. The decision of who she spent the rest of her life with should be made by
her
. Not her overzealous wolf and definitely not some hormonal urge.

Each day her irritation grew as it became more difficult not to succumb to the urge of crawling onto the man’s lap and sating the unending hunger that had been building since they first met.

All of that didn’t matter now. For the next several days she was free from the worries that plagued her at home.

Taking a deep breath, she reached her arms overhead, arched her back and inhaled the balmy salted air.

She could almost hear her muscles sigh, but despite the relaxation attempting to spread through her limbs, her body tingled with a tension she knew settled too deep.

Her heat cycle was starting, and there was nothing she could do to relieve the discomfort.

Well almost nothing.

Dropping her hands back down to her sides, she swept her gaze across the small beach. It wasn’t crowded but had a fair number of sunbathers and Zen cravers. And most importantly it had men looking for the same thing she was—a little fun, forgetfulness and zero strings.

Although heat pooled to her center, her stomach rolled in apprehension.

In the past she’d had no problems with finding a willing male to sleep with when she was in heat. She enjoyed sex, and although each year her parents hoped she would chose a permanent mate, no man in or outside of her pack inspired much feeling or devotion. At least not enough for her to be shackled to for life.

But last year, because of
The-Wolf-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named
, no one appealed to her.

Instead of rolling around for several hours with a well-endowed chosen playmate, she’d remained locked in her home for days with her vibrator and a healthy supply of batteries.

She had no intentions of repeating the experience. This week, she planned on proving to both her body and wolf, that Marcus wasn’t the only man capable of making her hot.

Her gaze combed the area, looking for a good candidate.

One particular man caught her eye.

He’d been swimming for the last hour, his caramel arms cutting through the water in languid strokes. But now he rose out of the surf resembling a naughty sea nymph, his strong legs leading up to deep blue board shorts. Dry, she guessed the swimming trunks were perfectly modest—but wet they molded to his thick muscled thighs and cupped his cock in a way that left very little to the imagination. And since Georgia’s imagination was better than the average wolf’s she bit back a groan and clenched her thighs tight.

Yum.

Pushing her sunglasses up to her hair, she licked her lips as her gaze traced the diamond bright droplets of water running down his hard chest. They sluiced down his body, aided by the tight ridges of muscles along his abdomen, tunneling down to what looked like one hell of a stocking stuffer.

Merry Christmas to me.

Yes, an island getaway was proving to be the perfect holiday treat.

Her gaze meandered back up his chest and after making a brief note of thick smooth lips and tempting dimples, she made eye contact with her merman come to life.

His eyes gleamed with interest and her lips turned up in her best come-hither smile. He took a step forward and then froze, his gaze focusing on something just over her left shoulder. Shaking his head he turned and continued walking down the beach.

What the hell!

She frowned at his retreating back. Admittedly she was no super model but, she’d never had a problem with luring men her way.

A long shadow fell over her and it was her turn to freeze. Despite blocking out the sun, a heated scorch rippled down her body as the approaching shadow crept down her body. Her nipples pebbled to thick points, her pussy clenched and a slow growl worked its way up her throat.

Only one thing made her body react this way and she’d deliberately left it back in Golden Valley.

“Hello Gigi. Miss me?”

Three

 

This is not happening!

“Don’t call me Gigi,” she said, the words pushing passed her stiffened lips.

Georgia squeezed her eyes shut and counted to ten.

One…Two…Three…

“It was rude of you to leave without saying goodbye.”

Her knees locked as his husky voice grew closer. She bit back a frustrated whimper as soft fabric brushed her bare arm.

Four…Five…

“What? No hello Marcus? How are you doing Marcus?”

Six…Seven

“How was your flight Marcus?”

Eight…Nine…

“No I’ve missed you Marcus—”

Ten!

Her eyes shot open before her gaze zeroed in on his smug face.

“How about, would you like to die Marcus,” she asked as sweetly as she could, her jaw stiff in anger.

He stood at her side towering over her and she couldn’t prevent another traitorous shiver from rolling down her body.

She refused to move from her position, not wanting to give him any impression that his presence or stance intimidated her at all. Adopting an air of nonchalance she flicked her hair over her shoulder and leaned back onto the curved beach chair.

There was no denying that Marcus Legrand screamed “lick me” from the top of his stubborn as granite head to the bottoms of his always impeccably shined shoes.

Her tongue slipped out to smooth over her suddenly dry lips as her gaze took him all in.

His usually dirty blond hair tousled in the wind as his dark, midnight blue eyes peered down at her.

She hated his eyes as much as she loved them. They always seemed to be digging directly into her soul and she loathed him for that.

Reaching up she shoved her glasses back onto her face.

A neatly trimmed beard curved around plump sensuous lips, that when speaking contained a faint European accent that she could never quite place. But the way he said her name always made her panties wet and nipples tight.

Bastard.

Dressed in dark slacks and slate grey dress shirt, he looked more ready for a business meeting than a walk on the beach. Although mentally scoffing at his attire she couldn’t ignore how well his broad chest stretched the fine fabric of his shirt, or how the precise creases of his pants, emphasized his strong thighs and the teasing bulge at the juncture of them.

BOOK: Midnight Mistletoe (A Paranormal Romance) (Golden Pack Alphas)
5.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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