Wilding (4 page)
Authors: Erika Masten
I’m the
girl next door with an unexpectedly wicked mind (and an addiction to sexy high
heels). There’s nothing quite like the thrill of turning forbidden desires and
secret fantasies into erotic romances with literary flare and a dirty mouth.
Let me tell you a very naughty love story…
Erika Masten
Email:
[email protected]
Web
Site:
http://erikamasten.com
Blog:
http://erikamasten.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign-up:
http://eepurl.com/pTLx1
One
Wild Night
An
Aesir Shifters BBW Romance Short
Who knew
trying to kill one another would be such an aphrodisiac?
Garik and
Rachel are just like Romeo and Juliet, except for the fur, the fangs, and the
powerful urge to fornicate despite being members of warring wolf packs. She’s a
curvy were-soldier scout for the Central Coast cell of the Odin Wolves. He’s
the sergeant-at-arms for the Sons of Fenris, a pack of motorcycle-riding
werewolves descended directly from the Fenris Wolf himself. And those don’t mix
without spilling blood.
Rachel
Corey has been doing everything she can to avoid Garik Hagen and her attraction
to the Fenris Wolf. But what’s she supposed to do when he prowls right into the
middle of her assignment to recover a powerful Aesir artifact from an art
dealer delivering the relic to a private buyer? How is one little curvy were, the
youngest and weakest of her pack, supposed to protect herself from the Sons of
Fenris MC when the rest of Garik’s gang show up with the intention of claiming
the prize for themselves and ravaging Rachel in the process? Can she trust
Garik’s word that he’s there to head off his own pack and protect her? What if
the sexy, brooding enforcer is just part of a trap she can’t resist?
Worst of
all, what if Rachel’s instincts are right and Garik is her mate?
Forbidden
lust, bloodthirsty enemies, and star-crossed love. It’s going to make for one
wild night.
AN
EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S
One
Wild Night
Thomas Poulsen’s description of his job went
on, Rachel could tell from the distant droning of his voice, but she—her
attention, her senses, her
wolf
—was elsewhere. Just that quickly,
instinctively, her focus shifted without her conscious effort. Another shifter
was near. The she-wolf felt it in the bristle of fur prickling under her skin,
ready to erupt. She heard it in the sudden stillness and quiet where there had
been birds, before they had scattered, just as her senses had perked. Then she
smelled it, smelled him.
Under the earthy musk that all wolves
possessed, she discerned cypress and the sweet warmth of cinnamon mixed in with
the kick of good bourbon. Only one man smelled like that, and her body reacted
by flushing with heat, by slicking her sex to be mated and bred, by sending
throbbing pulses of blood to her nipples and that most sensitive button of
nerves between her legs.
The wolf in Rachel growled low inside her,
and she could practically feel her ears flattening and her lips curling despite
not being in canine form. It didn’t like her body’s reaction
at all
.
“Please excuse me a moment,” the scout told
Mr. Poulsen and stood up in the middle of the conversation. Blindly, she moved
toward the source of the danger—of the desire—she perceived with
head and heart and sex. After a few steps, Rachel’s vision cleared, and she
recognized him.
Garik Hagen, deeply tanned and lightly
bearded, black-haired and hard-bodied, was hopping the low iron gate that
separated the deck from a small walkway leading to the parking lot. His long,
muscular frame stalked directly toward Rachel, as though he had homed in on her
exactly as she had on him. Fuck, the chest that man had! Who was cut like
that
?
He was shirtless under a partially unzipped gray hoodie, rather than wearing
the black leather jacket that normally proclaimed him the sergeant-at-arms, the
enforcer, for the SoF motorcycle club. The Sons of Fate to the uninitiated and
the Sons of Fenris to those in the know, it was as close to a pack as
Fenris-blooded wolves came. Theirs was a viciously chaotic and independent
breed by the very nature of their progenitor, the Fenris Wolf himself. Elias
had said many times that the Sons of Fenris alpha could hardly contain them and
had little inclination to actually do so anyway.
Every survival instinct in Rachel told her
to attack Garik Hagen before he could make whatever move had brought him here.
Her wolf demanded she shift, heedless of human witnesses and the fact that
Garik was an older, stronger shifter than she was. And yet her body, the woman
in her…. Goddammit if Garik wasn’t the only male, human or shifter, who made
her want to spread her thighs for him on sight.
Even Rachel wasn’t sure what she was about
to do as she and Garik closed those last few feet between them.
***
With all that silky, wheat gold hair of hers
fanning out like a display of temper by a wild animal, Rachel Corey prowled
straight toward Garik…and shouldered him hard as she veered past him and kept
right on walking. It stopped him in his tracks, left him standing astounded on
the weathered deck as a waiter bustled past with a cautious glare. Both the man
and the wolf in Garik growled in appreciation, at the little she-wolf’s
boldness and at the way her curvaceous body had swayed as she came toward him.
The heat that always stirred in his groin at just the thought of her now flared
up in a full burn, cock jutting to attention in his jeans, at the sight of the
gray cotton tank stretched taut over her full tits and the lightweight cargo
pants hugging her rounded hips and ass. It occurred to the Fenris Wolf that he
could rip through those clothes in a couple of seconds, at most, and have the
luscious she-wolf naked and hot in his hands. If he hadn’t known trouble was
headed this way, her way, his reaction wouldn’t have been so patient.
It was still a conscious effort to keep from
grabbing Rachel by her soft, bare arm as she bumped Garik on her way past. The
smell of forest and amber and apple, the scent particular to her, teased his
senses before disappearing into the breeze coming off the surf. By obviously
expecting some kind of civility from him, she was failing to take into account
the impulsive nature of a Fenris Wolf and the fact that he spent his time
surrounded by pack brothers who prided themselves on taking what they wanted
when they wanted it. All the better if it shocked everyone around them, and
best of all…if it involved a struggle.
Behind Garik, that iron gate he’d jumped to
reach the deck squeaked open and then slammed closed with a jarring clank.
Gritting his teeth and reminding himself that he’d known Rachel was going to be
hard to deal with, that she had come at him with teeth and claws every time they’d
encountered one another, the enforcer turned and followed the she-wolf.
His
she-wolf. She was still fighting that, apparently. When he realized the
voluptuous Odin Wolf scout was leading him through the parking lot and behind
the restaurant, he knew what was coming. He decided then…it was going to be
her.
Buy
One Wild Night now at you favorite online retailer.
Turning
Wild
An
Aesir Shifters BBW Romance Novella
Drawn
suddenly and violently into a world of shifters hiding among humans, Holly is
learning that there’s more than one type of were to beware of. One is a threat
to her life, another to her heart….
Curvy girl
Holly Parker’s life has become a series of simple choices that somehow change
the course of her entire future. Taking a shortcut home puts her on a collision
course with a maniac who is not what he seems. Keeping her mouth shut about her
attacker's fur and fangs lands her a job with a covert agency that tracks and
exterminates supernaturals preying on their human neighbors. And now her
decision to rely on her intimidatingly sexy neighbor, Dustin Berg, for
protection when her wolfish stalker returns opens her eyes not only to the
untamed power and passions of the were-soldiers known as Odin’s Wolves but to
her place among them.
Caught
between her duty to protect people from the kind of attack she suffered and her
irresistible attraction to the man—the shifter—who has risked his
life to save her from a creature he insists is an aberration hunted by other
wolves as well, Holly must decide who is on her side and who is merely using
her for their own purposes.
AN
EXCERPT FROM ERIKA MASTEN’S
Turning
Wild
“You okay, lupa?”
She wasn’t looking at him, head down. “Yeah,
I’m just….” Then she raised her face, her bright honey brown eyes narrowed.
“What did you say?”
More than he should have. “What’s wrong,
Holly? Bad day?”
Whatever was really bothering her, she
shrugged it off. “Long day.”
Long life, her tone said. “Yeah, I know.”
And he did. Dustin knew all about Holly’s background, from growing up with a
father who thought drinking and armed robbery qualified as vocations, to losing
her grandparents and her mother before she was even a teenager. He knew about
the were attack—the varg attack—almost a year before and that fact
that she was very likely working for an Agency cell, considering the people who
had approached her soon after that bullshit report she’d filed with the police.
No mention at all of the fact that the man who had “mugged” her in that parking
lot on her way home had been a shifter. But Dustin and pack leaders Ron and
Eric had seen the hospital file and the photographs of the bite wound on her
left shoulder. “I know,” he said again, but he couldn’t convey to her how true
it was, how sincere.
Then he bent down to pick up the tattered
trash bag just as Holly leaned down to do the same, and their hands and cheeks
brushed at the same moment. Dustin’s senses filled with…with lavender and
cedar, the memory of hips swaying to “I Want Some Sugar In My Bowl”, a naughty
word like fuck from those bee-stung lips, and the anxious tremor along her
flushed skin and ripe curves. Holly and Dustin both straightened, gazes flared
and locked, only he stood up with a step forward into her. He couldn’t keep the
growl out of his breath, the rumble reverberating gut deep, from the root of
him, his swelling cock. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as the
wolf in him pushed hard to free itself, to rise up right through his bristling
skin. Dustin’s shoulders settled and shifted back as his hips strained forward
and his hands clenched into fists, the only thing he could do to keep from
grabbing her, jerking her against him, or throwing her to down onto the grass
and….
She can’t pretend we’re not flirting now
,
he thought as he angled his face down over hers and took the luscious pad of
her lower lip so slowly, so carefully, but so hungrily between his teeth. He
snarled but didn’t bite; he held her still and sucked while she trembled
against him. The wolf inside him thrilled at her reaction, at the musk of lust
mixed with fear. He scraped her lower lip gently with the edge of his teeth and
sucked again, then lapped upward with the tip of his tongue to taste her upper
lip, sweet with wine, coppery with the blood coursing beneath her skin. Holly’s
eyes sank closed, millimeter by millimeter, and she held her breath one full
heartbeat, two, three. He distinctly heard each one, felt them in the most
minute pulsing of her blood. Dustin lost track of the beats when his own
throbbing pulse began pounding in his head, as she sighed into his mouth and
went pliant and submissive against him.
It was the worst thing Holly could have
done, like she’d rolled over and offered her belly—or her sweet,
vulnerable pussy. Their very first kiss was Dustin forcing her submission,
biting his little lupa, and she didn’t even understand what was happening, so
he couldn’t…. Fuck, he couldn’t do what his body wanted to do and strip her
bare and put her on all fours, couldn’t work himself wildly, brutally into her
tight core from behind while she bucked and bounced against him and whined at
the burn and the stretch and the need between her legs. If she submitted to him
fully, like that, she had to know what she was doing and what it meant.
A split second before he reached his limit,
before he’d gone so far he could only give in to the urge to drive his tongue
into her mouth and his cock into her sex, Dustin stepped back from Holly. He
steadied them both with one hand on her shoulder, holding himself back from her
by pushing her away, the other hand wiping his mouth. She probably thought he
was wiping away the wetness of her lips from his, but it was really to hide the
fact that he was outright salivating at the idea of taking her.
“Holly, I’m sorry.” Behind his hand, Dustin
was slurring his words, canines elongating just enough for him to feel them and
know the wolf was coming if he didn’t get the hell out of there. “I
just—.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” Holly said in a breathy
rush, not looking at him. “Stuff happens. It doesn’t mean anything.” Then she
started around Dustin on her way back into her townhouse, her steps hurried,
gestures stiff and tight. “I mean, you probably have a girlfriend who wouldn’t
be happy about that. Enough said. We can just forget it happened.”
She didn’t even look back. Goddammit. He
could guess all the things she was thinking, and he couldn’t stop her to
explain, not unless he wanted to have a lot more to be sorry for.
Dustin turned his face toward a renewed gust
of wind, up toward the nearly whole disk of the glowing moon. He gulped air and
let the chill on his skin and in his lungs beat back the prickle of fur and the
pain of shifting tissue and bone. With the wilding progression so far advanced,
Dustin could have turned in seconds, but it took two full minutes and a forced
march across the complex parking lot to calm himself enough to say he was even
mostly human again.
And all the while, every single second, the
wolf in him gnawed at his insides. It demanded he turn, feed, mate with a
ravening hunger and savagery. It
demanded
he mate, but surely it meant
fuck, not mate. Not
mate
.
It occurred to Dustin only then that he’d
never stopped to wonder what the difference would feel like, between finding a
woman who hardened his cock and one that called to his wolf in a way no other
did. He had always just assumed he would never actually mate, as female Odin’s
Wolves were rare, but hadn’t he heard Ron talk awhile back about a Fenris Wolf
who’d paired with a wolfkin who had never even turned and another shifter who
had somehow bonded with a full on human?
Dustin did remember one particular pack
teaching quite clearly: one of the few things capable of arresting the wilding
progression that eventually obliterated the human in a werewolf was finding a
true mate.
***
After slamming the door and locking it, an
action with more than a little symbolic meaning, Holly sagged against the wall
in her perfectly textured, utterly beige entryway and smothered a sob with both
her hands. It really wasn’t like her. Nothing about her life lately was like
her.
She wasn’t interesting enough to have been
attacked by a freaking werewolf, of all things, and just because she’d gotten
tired of waiting for her college “friends” to finish getting wasted at one of
the local bars and had started to walk home through that dark parking lot
alone. There had been no reason to think it was going to be that dangerous, on
a bright night with a full moon, clear enough to see for miles.
Holly snorted mid-sob. It had been a full
moon. Werewolf. Full moon. But she’d also already learned that real
werewolves—she snorted again despite herself—didn’t depend on the
moon for whether or not they shifted.
And that was another matter. She wasn’t
educated or worldly or sophisticated or alpha-FBI-secret-agent enough to be
working even as a research analyst for some covert government agency helping
“strike teams” track and exterminate dangerous supernaturals that humans never
knew existed right in their midst. Still a whole semester from finishing her
communications and computer data systems degrees, Holly was struggling to man
her desk at the Agency and complete her coursework with night classes three
times a week. It was Friday night; that was where she was supposed to be right
then, in class.
Instead she was moping over ice cream and
running into Dustin Berg out on the walkway and kissing him. Holly wasn’t
skinny enough or charming enough or flirty enough to let herself think for even
a second that a man that tall, that fit, that good-looking, that confident and
outgoing would kiss her out of anything but pity, curiosity, or
indiscriminately drunken horniness. And it wasn’t like Holly to lower herself,
to sacrifice what dignity she’d earned over years of lonely discipline, in
order to serve any of those instincts. Even for Dustin Berg.
“Damn, what’s gotten into you, Holly?” she
asked herself, still slumped to one side against the wall, still shuddering
periodically in a mixture of snorts and tears.
He came around the corner, just one step,
just into view, saying quietly, “I have asked myself the same thing many
times.”
Holly’s whole body jerked in shock at
realizing she wasn’t alone in her own townhouse. She sucked in a gasp so hard
and so huge that it came back out as a choking hiccup, and she threw her hands
over her mouth again.
This made him smile, a sad little quirk at
one corner of his remarkably full, pretty mouth—this total stranger
standing just inside her living room, just around the corner toward her dining
room and kitchen and that sliding glass door she was always forgetting to lock.
Buy
Turning Wild now at your favorite online retailer.