Undertow: Building Sanctuary, Book Two (13 page)

It might have been easier for him to lie to please her, but he didn’t. “Then we take our time.”

“We do.” He kissed her jaw, then her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ve already learned some of your boundaries. I won’t hold back from them again.”

No power could have kept her from kissing him then, from slipping her arms around his neck and holding him close, with nothing held back. No reason to hide. “I love you.”

This time, he didn’t run. “I love you too, gorgeous.”

She started to ask him to stay the night, then cursed softly as she remembered his ruined boat—and home. “Where are you going to sleep now?”

“I’ll find a place. Or maybe
we
can find a place. May not be quite as much privacy as my boat…” He lifted a hand and smoothed his thumb over her cheek. “We can still sneak away.”

“We can buy another boat come spring.” She turned her head and nipped at his thumb.

Victor backed her toward the bed, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Mmm. Which means tonight might be our last uninterrupted night of privacy.”

“I refuse to even entertain the possibility,” she murmured, a heavy anticipation warming her. “Like you said, we can sneak away.”

“And we will.” He kissed her cheek. “Every chance we get.” Another warm kiss, this time to her jaw. “But tonight…” His teeth closed on her throat, gentle but firm, and magic curled around her. “Tonight you’re all mine.”

“I told you already, I belong to you.” An easy promise to make, now that she knew the truth. They would struggle from time to time, with themselves and with each other, but nothing would ever bring them as much happiness as making that effort and staying together. It wasn’t the fairy tale Rose had wished for her, but something better. Something real. Something that wouldn’t end just because dawn had broken and real life had overtaken dreams.

Always.

About the Author

How do you make a Moira Rogers? Take a former forensic science and nursing student obsessed with paranormal romance and add a computer programmer with a passion for gritty urban fantasy. To learn more about this romance-writing, crime-fighting duo, visit their webpage at
www.moirarogers.com
, or drop them an email at
[email protected]
. (Disclaimer: crime-fighting abilities may appear only in the aforementioned fevered imaginations.)

Look for these titles by Moira Rogers

Now Available:

Red Rock Pass

Cry Sanctuary

Sanctuary Lost

Sanctuary’s Price

Sanctuary Unbound

Southern Arcana

Crux

Crossroads

Building Sanctuary

A Safe Harbor

Coming Soon:

Deadlock

Wilder’s Mate

A bootlegger will save her life. A debutante will steal his heart.

A Safe Harbor

© 2010 Moira Rogers

Building Sanctuary, Book 1

Joan Fuller enjoyed a privileged life—until her wealth and connections garnered her the wrong sort of attention. Her rejection of a textile heir’s proposal comes back to bite her when he turns out to be a werewolf on the prowl for a mate.

She may have been turned against her will, but now that she’s part of his pack she sets out to protect all its women. Even if that means joining forces with a witch and a vampire—and leaving the comfort of Boston.

Former bootlegger Seamus Whelan has cleaned up his act, but when his old partner Gavin comes to him for help, he can’t say no—no matter how deadly the threat. Escorting some female wolves to safety should have been easy, except their leader is a prim ex-debutante with enough power to challenge Seamus himself.

Her courage captures his interest, and her first hesitant kiss ensnares his heart. But before they can build a haven for their kind, they must free themselves of the past—and the powerful man who’s out to teach her a lesson she may not survive…

Warning: This novella contains a rakish werewolf bootlegger forced to join forces with a teetotaling ex-debutante as they fight epic battles, engage in criminal activities and eventually give in to inappropriate passion on a kitchen counter.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Safe Harbor:

Seamus barely managed not to smile. She was sneakier than she gave herself credit for being, and he liked it. “I think you’ve got a bit of a rogue bottled up in you too, sweet Joan.”

She finally looked up, and her eyes glinted with amusement. “Women have been using men’s vices against them since men discovered vice.”

“Mm-hmm.” He cracked two more eggs into the bowl. “And what did they use against them before that?”

“Why would they need to? Men were angels. Now I’m thinking they might have been a bit boring too.”

“Men have never been angels, sweetheart.”

“I suppose not.” Her pen scratched against the paper again, more idle doodles. “I’ll enjoy learning about your vices, as long as I’m numbered among them.”

His greatest vice, and he proved it by not being able to stop himself from crossing to the table to slide his fingers through her hair. “Tell me something.”

She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “Anything.”

He nuzzled her cheek and relished the scent of her. “What are
your
vices?”

“I don’t know.” The pen clicked against the table and her hands smoothed along his cheeks. “I never allowed myself to have any, except pride. That’s not a very fun one.”

“Mmm, I’m partial to lust, myself.”

Her lips found his ear, warm breath skating against him as she spoke. “You inspire lust in me.”

“Better than wrath.” He bent his head licked her earlobe gently.

Her breath caught on a tiny, startled noise and released on a sigh of pleasure. “You inspired a little of that too. Is it wrong to admit it makes the lust…sharper?”

“Wrong? No.” Seamus closed his teeth on her ear. “A little naughty, yes.”

That elicited a satisfyingly breathless gasp. Her fingers slipped down to curl in his shirt and her voice grew huskier. “I’ll have you know, I am never naughty.”

“No?” He couldn’t resist the soft curve of her throat, so he dropped his lips to it. “Not ever?”

“Maybe once. Or twice. I might have to concede that our antics in the bathtub last night were a little outrageous.”

Just thinking about having her under him again made his blood heat. “Outrageous enough for you to need more time to recover?”

Joan laughed as her hand edged under his shirt, her nails dragging lightly over his skin. “If you don’t stop treating me like I’m weak, we’re going to have to detour into wrath. I can feel how strongly the magic burns in you. Can’t you feel me?”

“Yes.” Her magic soaked into every pore of his body, vibrating inside him as they spoke. “But what sort of lover would I be if I didn’t concern myself over you?”

“Lover.” Her voice turned the word into a caress. Her teeth closed on his ear, mirroring the way he’d nipped at her, and pleasure shuddered up his spine.

Seamus leaned over, trapping her against the wood. “Lover.”

Joan eased her hand free and slid both up to hook under his suspenders. “I’m fine, Seamus. I’m aching for you.”

He could tell. The scent of her body, earthy and aroused, tickled his nostrils and stirred his own body. “Tell me what you want.”

She guided his suspenders down. “Everything.”

There were plenty of things he could do to her, things she might never have heard of, but would love all the same. He grasped her hips, lifted her and turned to drop her on the counter. “Lean back.”

“Bossy.” She’d donned a loose men’s shirt and a flowing skirt, claiming she wanted to be ready if they had to shift. Now she smiled wickedly as she lifted her fingers and tugged the top button of her shirt open, then the second, revealing the smooth curve of her breasts. “Do women just do whatever you tell them to?”

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

The third button gave way, and the shirt slipped from her shoulder. The fabric caught on her breasts, snug enough to show how tight her nipples were. “Do you like it when a woman does whatever you tell her to?”

He didn’t bother to hide his feral grin as his hand grazed her inner thigh. “Sometimes.”

Joan drew her legs together, trapping his hand, then leaned forward until her lips hovered over his. “That sounds like submission,” she whispered, every word like a teasing kiss. She licked his lower lip and laughed. “I’ve listened to the gossip. I know that giving in to our instincts can make sex more…primal.”

“You want primal?” Her shirt was like paper under his hands, and he tore the fabric free of her body, though he left it wrapped around her arms. “Say the word, sweet Joan.”

She dragged in a breath and leaned into him, pressed her breasts to his chest with a shaky moan. “What word? Primal? Please?”

He chased her back until his body was stretched out over hers. “The word…is
yes
.”

“Yes.” Her head fell back, and she didn’t struggle, even though she could have easily torn her arms free of the tangle of her shirt. “Yes, yes,
yes—
”

She wore only plain cotton panties under the voluminous skirt, and Seamus tugged at them. “What other gossip have you heard?”

Wildness filled her eyes as she watched him. “That finding a man with a clever tongue is of paramount importance.”

The cotton slid easily down her legs, and Seamus licked his lips. “You don’t say.”

“Are you going to show me why?”

He wanted to, not only to drive her wild, but to put his mouth to her body and taste her. “Yes.”

She wet her lips, an adorable anticipation lighting up her face. “Right here on the counter?”

“You like the idea?”

“More than I should.”

“Says who?” He teased her by grazing his fingertips over the sensitive flesh at the apex of her thighs as he bent closer. “That society you’re always talking about?”

The sound of her shallow, strained breaths filled the kitchen as her legs inched apart in silent invitation. “I want it more than I thought possible.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” This close, he could feel the heat of her on his tongue before he even touched her. And then he did.

Her breath caught and her knees knocked into his shoulders as she let out a choked noise that mixed pleasure with surprise. She moaned, and fabric ripped a second before her fingers thrust into his hair, the tattered remains of her shirt hanging from one arm. “
Seamus
.”

To speak, he’d have to raise his head, and he was nowhere near ready to relinquish the warm taste of her. Not yet.

One heel dug into his back as she squirmed, tugging at his hair in time with her short, gasping moans. “This is—this is so good, so
wicked
.”

He turned his head and bit the inside of her thigh. “Wicked?”

She snarled and tightened her fingers in his hair as power swelled, fierce dominant magic that trembled with her pleasure even as it challenged him.

It was a sweet challenge, and one Seamus couldn’t resist. He eased her off the counter and turned her over it. He dropped a single kiss on the smooth line of her spine and held her hips still. “Say yes.”

Desire cuts both ways…

Night Haven

© 2010 Fiona Jayde

Nothing gives Dina more pleasure than leaving the vampires she hunts to the mercy of the dawn. And yet most humans she is sworn to protect seem all too happy to offer up their necks. She has vowed never to be like those needy creatures yet, three months ago, she allowed a vampire to kiss her. The memory still makes her body burn—and her skin heat with humiliation.

For over twenty empty years, Luke has lived in a world of dead pleasure and burning sunrise, feeding off those who long for immortality and taboo thrills. Only his art makes him feel half-alive. Until one night in a dark, moody nightclub, where a reckless, amber-eyed bloodwolf left behind her clean, sharp scent—and an ache in his blood nothing but another taste can ease.

Finally, with the chance to purge Luke out of her system, Dina moves in for the kill. But she comes to a horrifying realization. She can no longer shift, and the desire to taste him—body, soul and blood—is making her crazy. As an enraged bloodwolf threatens to rip them both apart, she may just be crazy enough to trust Luke with her life.

Warning: Contains interspecies lust between a bloodwolf and a vampire, and desire thick enough to cut with a blade.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Night Haven:

The vampire didn’t move closer, but he didn’t bolt. Keeping her movements casual, Dina closed the distance between them. His gaze locked in with hers, direct and dark and thorough. Tough chin, a slash of lips that looked both sensual and cruel. She wished he had a smear of blood, something to keep her focused on the job instead of remembering his mouth over hers.

“Nice shirt.”

Tonight, she had dressed up her usual black with a long-sleeved T that spelled out “Fuck U” in black glitter. Perfect for work with just a bit of charm.

“Bad night?” Dina sidestepped a swaying couple in matching cowboy boots. “I thought your kind was all blood, all the time.”

He smirked, gave a small upwards jerk of that hero’s chin. She wondered if he saw her heartbeat pulsing somewhere in the hollow of her neck.
Get over it.

“And you’re an expert in my kind?” He emphasized the last word slightly in that clipped, low-pitched voice. Enough to make it sound insulting.

“Expert enough to dust you.” She hadn’t witnessed him actually take a bite, but no one had to be the wiser. She could simply dust him now and never see that cruel mocking smile again.

The thought churned her gut.

She faced him with small shivers racing down her back, trying not to remember how his arms felt banded around her, his body hard and hot against her own.

“You want to dance, bloodwolf?”

She couldn’t risk fighting him, not here amidst the crowd. Instead she flashed a smile, short and sweet. “Let’s take it outside.”

“Now that’s an invitation.”

He moved. Before she could react his hands gripped her shoulders, firm yet kind. She had one second to push back, to scream, to growl, to punch him. Instead, Dina just watched his face as he leaned down and put his mouth on hers, hot, hard and nearly brutal.