Renee Rose's Blog, page 2

Alpha’s Vow – Chapter One

Alpha’s  Vow – Chapter One

 

Charlie

 

The best thing about hiking down to the hot springs at six-thirty in the morning is that no one else will be there. Manby Hot Springs—the three rock pools near the ruins of an old stagecoach bathhouse—can get crowded with naked hippies, both local and visiting, but not on a weekday. Not at this time of day. And definitely not when it’s snowing. 

The sun is just starting to rise behind Taos Mountain, painting the sky in shades of pink, purple and orange. That, and the gentle snowflakes, feel like a perfect birthday gift from nature. 

This hike is my own present to myself. I have to work in a couple hours, but I don’t want my birthday to consist of nothing but delivering mail. I want to do something to set it apart. I’m getting together with my friends for drinks in the plaza later, but soaking in the hot springs at sunrise seems like a great way to make the day special.

And get my mind off Chad. 

My baby brother is serving over in Afghanistan, and hasn’t been heard from for months. Not even our parents—both retired Air Force officers—have been able to get a message to or from him. 

Official word from the Air Force is that no news is good news, but I’ve had this low-level fear for him ever since he enlisted and it’s starting to get noisier. It’s probably unfounded. I’m a worrier in general, and I’m probably just fixating on this, but I sure would feel better if he would just let us know he’s alive.

I reach the end of the one-mile hike into the canyon that dead ends at the edge of the Rio Grande, and strip out of my clothes. I tuck them behind a rock because the neat freak in me doesn’t want to look at them while I’m basking in nature. It’s also why I prefer to come here alone. Other people don’t help me commune with nature, and they just mess with the landscape.

The softly falling snow means it’s actually warmer than usual, and there’s no cold wind. The hot water is going to feel heavenly. I take my time, stepping in slowly, savoring the contrast of the hot water surrounding my legs and the cold prickling my skin everywhere else.

I sink into the steam, settling my bare ass on the soft black sand so I can get my shoulders completely under water. 

Across the river, on the slope of the opposite canyon wall, a movement catches my eye and I draw in a pleasured gasp.

A giant bighorn sheep turns his head to stare at me.  

“Hey there, big guy.” I lift my hand in a wave, smiling. “Thanks for dropping in.”

He lowers his head to graze.

Satisfaction flows through me as I drink in the stillness. I sink even lower until the water covers my ears and chin and I close my eyes, enjoying the way the heat seems to soak into my bones.

And then I nearly jump out of my skin when a body plunges into the shallow pool from the rocks above. I stare at the chaos of water and body parts, trying to make sense of it. Somehow, impossibly, it takes the shape of a man—an extremely fit, naked man—who stands and stares back, seemingly as shocked as I am to not find himself alone. 

For a moment, my brain short circuits. He’s insanely ripped—as if God invented some extra muscles for him. Either that, or he has more than his quota. Maybe there are people running around this Earth with muscles missing because this guy took them all. If so, then one of those people is me. 

I sink a little lower in the water. 

“Hi.” 

That’s the only thing I can think to say to the magnificent, dripping specimen of manhood. I grew up as a military brat. I’ve seen enough shirtless man-chests to inoculate me against the appeal. But this guy’s tattooed pectoral glory might be the exception.

“Hey.” He attempts to cover his manhood with both hands, and backs up. I recognize him—he’s one of the ex-military guys Sadie’s boyfriend works with. The mercenaries. Huge guys. Muscled. Dangerous.

Super hot.

I grin at his attempts to be a gentleman. I think my presence startled him even more than he startled me. “You can come in. And you don’t have to cover up. Nudity is expected down here.”

His eyes crinkle and he smirks, turning slightly to shield me from the sight of his peen. Of course, that gives me a delicious view of his epic, muscled backside. “Yeah, sorry, but this gun is fully loaded for you.” 

Oh. “Um, thanks?” 

He laughs softly and walks toward me, dropping to his knees to hide said gun under the steam. I’m now oddly disappointed I didn’t get to see it.

“My bad. I never would’ve jumped in if I’d known someone was in here. I’m Lance.” He holds out his hand. 

“Charlotte. My friends call me Charlie.” When I reach to take his palm, my shoulders come out of the water. His gaze dips to the place where my breasts emerge from the steaming surface. He inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring. His ocean blue eyes lock onto my face. The lazy heat in his eyes warms me all over.

Damn, but he’s beautiful. And the way he’s looking at me… his obvious appreciation revs my sex drive. The one that stalled after experiencing Taos’ very limited range of dating possibilities… after realizing The Big Plan I had for my life might never come together.

 “No worries,” I say. “You just surprised me.”

His grin has a hint of a dimple. Yowza. Face of a model, charm of a movie star, the sleekly muscled shoulders of an Olympic swimmer. Triple threat. “What are you doing here all by yourself at sunrise, Charlie?” he purrs. The question shouldn’t sound like he just offered me sex, but for some reason, it does. He floats closer, hovering right at the edge of my personal bubble. 

And I tilt my head up at him with a smile, ready to flirt with him even though I shouldn’t. This guy has player scrawled across his muscled chest. I’ve met a million guys like him on base, where I grew up. Military playboys who fuck anything with a pulse, and don’t ever look back.

Not to be judgmental, but I know his type. Fun to date, but here one day, ghosting the next. The opposite of the type I need for The Big Plan. 

And yet here I am, savoring his charm like it’s my favorite mocha shake, complete with chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and shavings of dark chocolate on top. 

“It’s my birthday,” I find myself saying, even though I didn’t plan on telling anyone who didn’t already know.

Lance flashes a lady-killer grin. “Happy birthday, Charlie.” He murmurs my name like he’s savoring it. 

If he were any other guy, I’d roll my eyes and put up my usual defenses. I could still shrug Lance’s charm off. If I told him to stay away, he would. But he’s floating naked in the water, so close, so gorgeous, his attention all on me. It feels like fate. 

“If we were at a bar, I’d buy you a drink. But since we’re naked in a hot spring, would you accept a back rub?” His dimple makes an appearance. This Charm Boy’s got a license to kill—with those long lashes, sculpted cheekbones, and baby blues. “A birthday massage?”

Ha. There it is. He’s playing his role as player so perfectly, it could be scripted. But fuck it, I want to let it happen.

“How about a foot rub?” I challenge, and let one foot drift up in the water between us. 

He doesn’t falter. He claims my foot, keeping it under water and stroking his thumbs along my arch. He’s good. Infinitely skilled. He uses just the right amount of pressure between the long metatarsal bones, rolls and pulls each toe like he’s uncorking a bottle of fine wine. And then he starts working between my toes. 

My plan has backfired. Every point he presses on my foot sends pleasure shooting up between my legs. This is foreplay.

Aw, damn. This guy is so hot, he’s going to make the water in this pool boil. If I didn’t know fifty things about screwing military guys, I’d do him. Not to incorporate him into The Big Plan. God, no. Just for fun. Just for me. 

I know he’d be good in bed.

“You’re friends with Sadie,” he observes. 

I blink. I shouldn’t be surprised he remembers that—we’ve met once before, briefly, in a restaurant. He just seems like the kind of guy who doesn’t notice anyone but the girl who’s naked and right in front of him. 

“You’re friends with Deke,” I counter.

His amusement seems to grow. He studies me with those dimples flexing. “You wear cute t-shirts.”

I should not be so pleased he noticed. He does know me. And he likes my shirts. Or thinks they’re cute—is that the same thing?

“You ride a Harley.”

He shakes his head. “Ducati.” Then he shrugs, like he realizes I probably don’t care to hear the difference. “Yeah.”

Okay, I like this guy. I don’t want to, but he’s really hard not to like. Especially when he’s working between my toes like he knows it’s somehow the secret path north, straight between my legs.

For one insane moment, I consider jumping him right here in the hot spring pool. But I don’t do spontaneous. Ever. Nothing happens in my life without a thorough think-through. Without a plan.

“I heard you’re Special Forces.”

A hint of wariness creeps into his gaze. His face becomes little guarded. That makes sense. Special Forces is serious. He probably did and saw things that changed him forever. That’s what I’m afraid of for Chad.

But I guess that’s what he wanted—Chad, that is, not Lance. He knew what he was getting into when he enlisted.

“Was,” Lance says, and the serious tone in his deep voice does things to my insides that rivals the pleasure from his touch. “We’re in private security now.”

Right. I knew that, too, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. Special forces have skills that translate to mercenary work in the private sector. Tough, dangerous work that pays real well. I’ve seen their fancy cars and bikes. They’re rolling in cheddah. Private contracts are lucrative, but dangerous as hell. And I have a feeling that what Lance and his buddies do may not be entirely legal. 

Either way, Lance is a grade-A adrenaline junkie. He left the military, but couldn’t leave the life. Nothing wrong with that, but not a guy I could see myself with.

I point at my chest. His eyes track the movement like a tiger watches his prey. “Military brat. Both parents were active duty and deployed a lot.”

His expression softens. “Sorry?” 

I laugh. “Yes. Thank you. I’m definitely scarred from it.”

He works my heel, pinching all around the circumference, then stroking up my Achilles. My nipples stiffen despite the hot water. I make a mental note not to lift my shoulders above the waterline to let him see his effect on me. 

“The moving around, or the deployments? Which branch?” 

He succeeds in disarming me a little more every minute I remain here with him. His question shows he gets it, and the way he watches me for my answer makes it seem like he’s really interested.

He’s interested in getting laid, my snarky side reminds me.

“Both. Both my parents were Air Force. We moved a lot, and if my parents were deployed at the same time, we stayed with my grandparents. Different school almost every year.”

Lance’s gaze is sympathetic.

“But no, I don’t have a problem with the military culture, per se.”

He quirks a brow and his hand strokes sensuously up the calf of my other leg until it catches the heel and he changes which foot he’s massaging. My pussy clenches. This guy has all the moves. He starts to stroke my other foot, and I stifle a groan of pleasure. 

“You live in Taos. Isn’t the culture here the polar opposite?”

I laugh. “Good point. Why did you guys choose here?”

“I asked you first.”

I swear to God, my nipples hum with pleasure. This man has every nerve ending in my body tingling for him. “Okay, you’re right. I picked Taos because I wanted the opposite of what I had growing up. I wanted a place to put down roots and stay forever. And I love Taos. It’s beautiful, and I like the liberal vibe here. But I’m not a hippie. I’m not a fly-by-night just passing through until Spirit sends me somewhere else.”

“No.” His gaze is warm. “You seem pretty grounded.”

Compliments. Another technique in the playboy manual. Lance is smoother than most guys, I’ll give him that. I need to make my escape before I have no defenses left. Actually, I need to leave, anyway, if I’m going to get to work on time. I already stayed much longer than I planned.

“Yes, well, as much as I’m loving this, I need to get out. I have to be at work by eight.”

Lance drops my foot and launches himself to his feet, dripping water. He turns to angle his hips away from me. Does he still have a hard-on?

“Right.” He’s already climbing out of the pool, giving me that epic view of his smooth ass. Water streams in rivulets between the powerful muscles of his quads, shoulders, and back. 

I can’t speak for a moment. It’s like viewing fine art, a marble sculpture of a Greek god. There are no words.

“Give me a head start, and I’ll leave you in private to get out and dressed.”

Such a gentleman. Anyone less suave would hang around and try to sneak a few peeks. Offer to walk with me up the canyon. 

His cheek curves as he tosses over his shoulder, “Happy birthday, Charlie. I hope to see you again soon.”

He disappears around behind the ruins of the old bathhouse, away from the trail that leads out of the canyon. And then, I could swear it sounds like he’s running.

I climb out of the pool, curiosity winning out over any fears I have of flashing him, but he’s disappeared. I scan the trail up the side of the canyon.

No sign of him. 

What… the heck? 

Where did he go? And why was he in such a hurry? It doesn’t make sense, but I don’t have time to worry about it. If I don’t throw on my clothes and hoof it out of here, I’ll be late for work.

 

#

 

Lance

 

Rafe would kill me if he knew about my cock-up.

And I don’t mean the boner I sprouted for the stunning human. 

Charlie. 

The girl whose face I’ll be jerking off to every night this week.

I race along the river in wolf form, trying to put some distance between me and the hot spring pool before Charlie climbs out to discover that I don’t have any clothes to put on—oh, and I happened to swim there from the John Dunn bridge. In wolf form.

The cold snow-water river dunk followed by a dip in the hot spring has been my latest indulgence. Today was the third morning I’d ridden my Ducati down to the low bridge, stripped out of my clothes, and swum with four legs downstream in the icy water to then shock my system with the pleasure of the hot spring. It is a totally unsanctioned activity, since showing our wolves anywhere near humans is forbidden. 

But damn, it feels so good. The contrast of freezing cold and then steaming hot. The early morning exhilaration of exercise and pleasure. 

But I can’t risk it again. I don’t know how my wolf didn’t pick up on Charlie’s presence before I launched into that pool. 

Fuck! 

I was in wolf form when I jumped. I literally had to shift mid-air when I realized she was in there. 

I’m so fucking lucky her eyes were closed and she didn’t see my wolf. 

I was flustered by my mistake, and then by her scent, which was alluring, but hard to catch in the water. It drove me wild trying to get the full notes of it. Like pine and peaches rolled into one. 

I’ve seen Charlie in town before. She’s in that group of females that hangs out with Deke’s mate, Sadie. But today was the first time I got close enough to smell her, and now I crave more. A lot more. 

Maybe it’s just the fact that she was naked and I’d just shifted, but I sprouted a chub that refused to go down the entire time I was in that pool with her. I mean, I’m the kind of guy who appreciates a naked female, regardless of her scent. Any naked female.

Maybe it’s been too long since I’ve managed to get a female in bed, because while I didn’t see that much of Charlie, the thoughts about what she was hiding under all that steam and water nearly drove me wild.

I definitely want to see more of her.

All of her. Preferably writhing underneath me, screaming my name as I make her come.

Maybe tonight. It is her birthday, after all. It would be a shame to leave a woman unsatisfied on her birthday. But Rafe would cut my dick off if I did hunt her down to make her scream. We’re not supposed to fraternize with civilians—a.k.a humans. Charlie’s friends with Sadie, which means things could get messy. Living in a small town makes it nearly impossible to screw around.

I arrive at the low bridge where I left my Ducati. After lifting my nose to scent the air for humans, I shift back to my two-legged form, emerge from the brush, and change into my clothes by my bike.

What Rafe doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

 

Alpha’s Vow (Shifter Ops, book 2)

 

The sweet human is pregnant with my pup. 

We had one night together, and then she ghosted. Apparently, I’m not part of her ‘life plan’.

Whatever, angel. Plans change. 

She thinks I’m a player. That I won’t stick around. She thinks I don’t have what it takes to be a dad. 

That I won’t drop everything and dedicate my life to our baby. To our family. To her.

She’s wrong. She thinks I’ll walk away? 

She has no idea what she’s in for. A wolf never walks away from his mate, and he always protects his pups. 

I may not have marked her yet, but I will.

And if she tries to run, I’ll follow. 

I’ll follow my beautiful female to the ends of the Earth.

Read now

 

 

First Chapter of The Fixer

(c) Renee Rose

The Fixer (Chicago Bratva, Book 2)

OWNED BY THE MAN I BETRAYED

Six years ago, I uttered a lie that changed a man’s life.

My father banished him from his bratva cell. From the country.

Now he’s back to take my inheritance. My life. Not through murder but marriage.

And my own father arranged it.

Maxim thinks he can make me submit to his will. He thinks he gets to call all the shots. 

I wanted him once, and he refused me. I won’t fall for him again. 

And I don’t plan to cave.

Not even when he makes me tremble with need… 

Chapter One

Sasha

My father’s men say he only has days to live. Maybe only hours. We’re at his home in Moscow—a residence I’ve never been permitted to enter before.

A place I hated from the time I was a little girl.

It means little to me now. Ditto on his approaching death. 

I can’t say I love the man. He was a terrible father and a worse partner to my mother. Partner, not husband—no, he couldn’t marry her.

It’s against the bratva code. 

She was his kept mistress for thirty years until last week when he informed her she was now the mistress of Vladimir, his right-hand man. That’s right—he literally bestowed his mistress on another man. Like she was some whore he owned. No, worse than a whore—like she was his slave. 

She had no choice in the matter. 

Like I say, he’s not a nice man, my father.

“Come, Sasha, your father wants to see you,” my mother says in a hushed tone. My once beautiful mother suddenly appears old. She’s pale, her face drawn up and pinched in grief.

Despite it all, she still loves my father deeply.

I follow her into his room. He didn’t want to die in a hospital, so his large bedroom has been converted to one.  Medical machines surround him; there are nurses on duty twenty-four/seven. The curtains are open, letting the summer sun in through the large windows. 

“Sasha.” 

I flinch. He’s still as formidable as ever, even thin and frail in his crimson striped robe. His face is a deathly grey pallor. 

“Come.” He summons me to his side. I walk over reluctantly. I may be twenty-three, but something about the man makes me still feel like an errant child. He takes my hand, and I have to work not to shudder at the feel of his dry, bony fingers holding mine. 

“Sasha, I will provide for you,” he says. Coughs.

I swallow.

Providing for us was the only good thing he did for me and my mother. I should be grateful. We’ve lived in luxury for our whole lives. I even got to attend the college of my choice in the United States—University of Southern California, where I studied acting. But of course, he summoned me back the moment I graduated. 

And I came because he holds the purse-strings.

If he leaves me enough money in his will, I plan to go back to America to pursue my dreams.

“Your husband arrives today.”

I don’t even understand his words at first. I blink. Look over my shoulder at my mother. “Excuse me?” Surely I heard that wrong.

“The man who will marry you. To protect you and manage your financial interests.”

I draw my hand back. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Anger flickers on my father’s face, and my body instantly responds with trembling. No matter how much I try not to care, I’m still the little girl just dying to please him, to win his love. To make him see me and give me attention this time. 

Of course, I never show it. I’ve played the rebellious teenager with him for a long time now. I toss my hair for emphasis. “I am not marrying anybody.”

He points a finger at me. “You will do what I tell you to do and be grateful I have found a way to protect and provide for you from the grave.” A little spittle flies from his mouth.

My stomach churns. It’s too disturbing to see death hammering his body and not to be affected, but I don’t want to care. I want to just hate him through it all. 

I do hate him.

“Who?” I demand. “Who am I to marry?”

A tap sounds on the door, and my father nods, like he’s satisfied. Vladimir enters. “Maxim has arrived.”

I lose my breath like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Maxim.

Surely not? What kind of sick, twisted plan of my father’s is this?

Maxim, the charming, powerful former protege of my father? The one I had exiled with my lies?

Maxim comes in, and I back away from my father toward the shadowed corner where my mother stands, hovering, wringing her hands. “You knew about this,” I accuse.

Tears swim in her eyes. I’m glad because they help me swallow my own.

“Maxim.” My father holds out his hand to him. 

Maxim glances in our direction, and I make a move to leave, but my mother grabs my arm and keeps me in place. Vladimir, who also stepped into the room, shifts in front of the door like he’s blocking it. Like he’s a prison guard.

Nothing shows on Maxim’s handsome face. Just the sight of him after six years makes my heart pound. He wears the same inscrutable mask I remember. Surely he hates me after what I did. He clasps my father’s hand, going down on one knee beside the bed. “Papa.”

Papa. That’s what they call my father because he’s their leader. In a way, I supposed he was like a father to Maxim, who I recall ran away from an orphanage at age fourteen. Probably a better father to him than he ever was to me, his real flesh and blood. 

“At last, you’ve come,” my father rasps, laying his free hand on Maxim’s shoulder like a priest giving a benediction. “I have a dying request, Maxim.”

“What is it?” Maxim’s voice is low and respectful. Watching them, you’d never know my father banished Maxim, not only from his side but from this country. 

“You have followed the Code of Thieves?”

Maxim nods.

“You have not taken a wife or family?”

“Nyet.”

“Good. You will break it now to marry Sasha,” my father says.

Even though I half-expect it, the words still hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me, washing me in panic. 

Maxim’s broad shoulders and back are to me, so I can’t see his face, but he must be as horrified as I am. 

He slowly rises from his kneeling position, slides his hands in his pockets and waits, not offering a response.

“I will leave my interest in all the oil wells to Sasha, only so long as she is married to you. You will manage her financial interests and protect her from threats. If she dies before she bears children, the interest transfers to Vladimir, who is charged with leading the Moscow cell and caring for Galina, her mother.”

“You’re selling me,” I choke from the corner.

He is—just like he sold my mother.

“Silence!” My father throws up a hand in my direction, not even deigning to look my way. 

Maxim turns, though. He gives me a long, considering look, probably reminding himself how I ruined his life. He could have Vladimir’s place at the helm of the bratva now if it hadn’t been for me.

I press my lips together, so he won’t see them tremble.

“She is not a virgin,” my father says, like he’s apologizing for delivering flawed goods. 

I want to puke. 

“She had a wild period out of my control when she went to college in America. But then, you are used to American women, no?”

Still, Maxim says nothing.

“You will do this for me,” my father says. It’s not a question, it’s an order, but he watches Maxim’s face intently, looking for clues. “Take her back to Chicago with you. Keep her out of the fray—protected and safe. Enjoy her money.”

Maxim scrubs a hand over his face. 

“You can punish her for the lie she told about you. No hard feelings, eh? You’ve done well for yourself in America. I hear Ravil lives like a king, and you enjoy the benefits.”

I go still, hearing that my father knew I lied. 

“And if I die first?” Maxim asks, all business. This is a transaction. My father’s offering a dowry for my hand. “Who holds the interest in trust for Sasha?” 

“Vladimir,” my father says. 

Maxim gives his head a small shake. Vladimir’s in the room, but Maxim doesn’t look his way. “Make it Ravil,” he says. Ravil is the boss of the Chicago branch of bratva and Maxim’s boss since his banishment.

My father considers, then looks at Vladimir. “Make the change,” he orders. “And send in the clerk.” 

Vladimir immediately leaves the room.

“You will do this for me,” my father repeats, looking at Maxim.

Maxim bows his head. “I will.”

“Do not disrespect my name by disrespecting my daughter.”

“Never,” Maxim says immediately. He turns again and studies me. Something flutters in my low belly at his dark gaze. If my father has his way, I will belong to this man. He will control me completely. My entire destiny is in his hands. 

But I’m not going to lie down and play the submissive, doting, always available mistress my mother did. 

Screw that. 

I’m going to fight back.

#

Maxim

Fuck. Me. 

There’s no way I would refuse Igor his dying wish—or order, as the case may be. But this one is a fucking doozy.  

I have to marry Sasha, his mafiya princess brat. The one who ruined my life. Not that I regret leaving Moscow. Igor’s right—life is so much easier in Chicago under Ravil’s rule. I don’t constantly feel like a knife’s about to go into my back the way I did here. But now I will again.

Of course, that’s why he needs me to marry her. 

Igor’s oil well interests are worth at least sixty million. And his colleagues are unsavory, at best. We are the brotherhood of thieves, after all. So I have to presume at least thirty men will have their eyes on stealing that fortune in whatever way they can—killing Sasha, killing me, or even taking out the entire Chicago cell.

But I’m the fixer. Like Ravil, a master strategist, I have a reputation for outthinking my opponents. Igor knows his friends and enemies alike will think twice before they try to steal his fortune if it’s in my care. 

I take a good look at my unwilling, manipulative bride. She’s even more beautiful than she was at seventeen, when I found her naked in my bed, set on seducing me. 

She’s drop-dead gorgeous, like her mother. Long, thick red hair. High cheekbones, porcelain skin. She has bright blue eyes and Cupid’s bow lips. Her narrowed gaze is filled with hurt and rage. 

Blyat. I will have my hands full with her. 

Vladimir returns with the papers and a nervous-looking government official—I presume a clerk from the Department of Public Services. Someone probably paid or threatened him into making this a house-call instead of us going there.

If it were anyone besides Igor, I would demand to review his will to make sure the agreement is really as he states. But it’s Igor, the man who literally saved my life, took me under his wing, and made me the man I am today. I’m not going to insult him. If his dying demand is that I marry his daughter, I’ll do it.

Then again, Vladimir could be trying to fuck my bride out of her money, which is exactly the reason Igor inserted me into this mess. I keep my voice low and respectful. “Do you wish me to review it first, Papa?”

He considers me for a moment, then nods, so I take the sheaf of papers and skim through as quickly as I can. There are provisions for Galina, but all through Vladimir. Other than the oil interest, Igor’s only legitimate business holdings, everything else goes to Vladimir, with strict provisions that he provides monthly allowance and protection to Galina.

The oil interest goes in a trust to Sasha, with me as trustee. We must remain married, or we forfeit the wells, and they go to Vladimir, or in his absence, Galina. If she dies first, Vladimir becomes the trustee. If I die first, Ravil. I nod and hand the papers to Igor to sign.

The clerk clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

“We’re ready,” I tell him.

Galina propels an angry Sasha forward to stand beside me. “This isn’t happening,” she complains in English, perhaps so her father won’t understand. She’s lucky she speaks it, or her new life would be even harder.

“Do you have rings to exchange?” the sweating clerk asks me.

“No.” I shake my head. 

Igor takes a platinum ring from his pinky finger. He’s worn it for as long as I’ve known him. I remember him saying things to me like, “I, too, started with nothing, Maxim, and now I wear platinum rings.”

His hand shakes when he hands it to me. His breathing is labored. 

Galina notices and dashes to his side. “Are you all right, my love? Do you need more morphine?”

“Go on.” Igor gives an impatient wave to the clerk. “Marry them.”

The clerk swallows and launches into a brief ring exchange. I put Igor’s ring on Sasha’s finger and tell the clerk to skip it when he comes to her ring for me.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

I face Sasha, but she turns away, so I drop a kiss on her cheek. “It is done,” I say to Igor. 

“A-after you sign the certificate,” the clerk stammers.

I snatch the pen from his hand and scrawl a quick semblance of my signature on the paper then hand the pen to Sasha. 

Her fingers won’t form around the pen. She looks up at me, rebellion swirling in those ocean blue eyes. As if either of us could stop this ball that’s clearly been rolling long before we stepped in this room today.

“Sign it,” Igor snaps. Or attempts to snap. It comes out as more of an angry wheeze.

Galina’s mouth tightens. “Do it, Sasha.”

Sasha grips the elegant fountain pen, the muscles around her jaw tightening as she signs the certificate. 

The clerk signs it and nods at Vladimir. “It’s complete. I’ll have it filed in an hour.” His hands tremble as he puts the certificate back in a folder, which he holds to his chest. 

“Good. Bring the copies here, and you’ll receive the rest of your payment.”

The clerk exits like the room is on fire, and we all turn to Igor, whose breath has turned to a gasping. 

“Get him morphine!” Galina barks at Vladimir, who calls in a nurse. 

It’s all too much to absorb. Igor dying. My sudden marriage. My bitter bride. 

“Sasha,” Igor pants. He’s restless in the bed, thrashing his legs under the covers like he can’t breathe. Or is in pain. His lips are turning blue. “Come.”

When she doesn’t move, I place a gentle hand at her lower back and propel her forward to his side. The nurse dribbles a dropper of medicine in his mouth. He reaches for his daughter’s hand.

“Sasha,” he says again.

“What is it?” I hear the tears in Sasha’s voice. Anger, too. 

“Trust…Maxim,” he tells her.

Goosebumps race across my skin, up and down my arms and legs. On the back of my neck. Igor’s fears for her life may be more substantial than I initially guessed. Or he’s afraid Sasha will bolt. 

Blyat. 

He takes a short breath. Then nothing.

“Igor!” Galina cries.

“Papa?” Alarm rings out in Sasha’s voice.

Igor breathes again.

“Oh!” Galina heaves a sigh.

But it was his last breath. His body twitches as the life goes out of it. 

For the first time, Galina looks at me. “He waited to die until you got here,” she says, but it’s an accusation not a compliment.

I waited too long to come. I dodged his calls, not wanting to find out what it was he wanted to give me before he died. 

I was afraid it would be his position as head of the Moscow bratva. Or some other high up position. I thought he was calling me back to service.

Never in a million years would I have guessed it was to wed his daughter.

“May the earth be soft for him,” I murmur the traditional Russian saying then turn and walk out. 

I don’t have time to grieve the loss of a man who already threw me out of his life six years ago. I need to figure out how to keep his stubborn daughter safe when she has no desire to be attached to me.

The Director – Chapter One

Please enjoy this first chapter preview of The Director by Renee Rose

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Chicago Bratva, Book 1

NO ONE TAKES WHAT’S MINE.
The lovely attorney kept a secret from me. 

A baby she’s been carrying since Valentine’s night. 

The night we were thrown together by the roulette wheel. 

She never contacted me. Meant to keep me in the dark.

She’s about to find out what happens when you cross a bratva boss.

Punishment is in order. Sequestering until the birth.

And I’ll use that time to win her surrender.

Because I don’t just plan to keep the baby—

I plan to make his mother my bride.

And it would be much better for both of us if she were willing.

Chapter One

Lucy

It might be time to stop wearing heels. Or choose the lower ones.

Fresh from another courtroom win, I step into the crowded elevator. I hide my wince, courtesy of swollen feet stuffed in my boss-bitch stilettos—the ones I use to assert my seniority, stature, and overall dominance in the courtroom and, more importantly, within my father’s firm. 

I nearly wince again when I see Jeffrey’s on this ride.

He glances at my swollen belly then meets my gaze with a torment of conflict behind his grey eyes.

It’s not his.

We broke up six months before I had the very out-of-character sexcapade in DC that resulted in my changed state. 

“Lucy,” he says. It’s a statement, not an opening. An acknowledgment of the eight years we wasted together. 

I bite back a sigh. “Jeffrey.”

Thankfully, there are four other people in the elevator, so I snap into position beside him to stare at the doors as the elevator moves upward. 

“How’s your dad?”

Oh, jeez. Were we really going to do this?

“Same.” I make the required glance his way.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes. Well, it is what it is.”

I face unfriendly counsel daily—in my firm and opposite me in the courtroom. I can handle another elevator ride with my ex. But the mixture of pity and remorse in Jeffrey’s stare makes my Lafayette 148 New York blazer—the one with a straining button above my belly—suddenly unbearably tight and hot.

But, then, I imagine wearing any blazer in July while pregnant would be unbearable. 

Still, I wish he’d work through his emotional crap and stop making my growing belly the source of some internal conflict. I assume he wonders what it would be like if it were his. Or maybe he feels guilty that I’m doing this baby thing on my own because he would never commit.

The fact is, I’ve gone on without him. 

End of story.

The elevator stops on the floor of his architecture firm, but he hesitates, shifting his arm in front of the sensors, but not getting out. “We’re going to get drinks at The Rocket tonight if you want to join us,” he says then grimaces, probably realizing drinks are out for me considering the tiny life growing inside me.

“Another time,” I say in that disinterested tone of voice that’s supposed to convey never but falls a little short. I might have mixed feelings about Jeffrey, too.

Or maybe I’m just terrified I can’t do this alone.

I hold my head up, keeping my courtroom stance until the doors shut. Then it gets easier to maintain when the doors open on my floor, and I affect my confident stride to the shared secretary’s desk. 

“First appointment?” I usually know my schedule without being told. I’m the type of person with the proverbial mind like a steel trap, but the hormones are messing with my memory, too. I feel muddled. Soft around the edges.

And I hate how vulnerable and out of control that makes me feel.

“The first appointment is with Adrian Turgenev, the young man charged with arson of the sofa factory on 11th,” Lacey, the secretary, tells me.

Right. Russian mafiya, or bratva, as they call it. The client was referred by Paolo Tacone, one of my Italian crime family clients. 

Funny, are the Russians and Italians in bed together now? It doesn’t matter. It’s not my job to know the real details of their business.

It’s just my job to defend them with the facts collected by law enforcement.

I have to admit the slight foreboding tickling the back of my neck at getting involved with the Russians. Not because I take a moral high ground with the people I defend. You can’t be a defense attorney and ride that horse.

Only because of him.

Master R, the sexy Russian criminal I met in Washington, DC last Valentine’s day. 

The unwitting sperm donor for my adventure into single parenting.

But he was in Washington, DC. Probably zero connection with the cell here in Chicago.

I unlock my office and go in then pull the file on Adrian Turgenev to review the notes the secretary made on the case. I sit behind my desk before I kick off the three-inch heels, which are digging into my swollen feet.

Lordy. Pregnancy is not for wimps. Especially not at age thirty-five.

“Lucy. Did I hear you’re taking on a new organized crime outfit?”

I try not to narrow my eyes at Dick Thompson, one of my dad’s partners in the firm. I’ve known him since I was a kid and have to work very hard to keep him from still treating me like one.

“You heard correctly.” I raise my brows to inquire about his point.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. We spent many hours deliberating the wisdom of taking on the Tacones back in the day when your father represented Don Santo or whatever his name was. We can’t have this firm pulled down with a nasty reputation.”

I remember. I worked here during my summer and winter breaks from the time I was sixteen. I also remember what my father had said at the time. 

“This firm is famous for defending murderers and criminals. Organized crime simply provides the guarantee of return business.” I flick my brows with a cool smirk. 

This isn’t about some moral high ground. It’s Dick being a dick. He pushes me on purpose. He always has. I’ve had to work doubly hard to prove I deserved the spot in this firm, both because I’m female and because my father helped me get it. Now there’s some kind of campaign going on behind my back regarding the partnership. Dick’s building a case against me. Or maybe my dad. Likely both of us.

We’ll see.

As a woman in a cut-throat business in one of the most cut-throat firms, I’m always fully expecting the dagger that’s inches from my back.

My phone rings.

“That’s probably him. I have to go,” I breeze to Dick as I shove my feet back in my pumps and answer the phone.

“Mr. Turgenev and Mr. Baranov here to see you.”

“Send them in, please.”

I stand and walk around my desk, ready to shake their hands when they come in.

I should’ve been prepared for it.

I had that niggling feeling. Still, when the door opens and I catch the handsome, brutal face of the man standing there, the room swoops, dips, and momentarily goes black.

It’s him. Master R. My partner from Black Light, the BDSM club in DC. 

The father of my child.

#

Ravil

“Lady Luck.” 

I catch the elbow of the lovely blonde attorney as she sways. I’m so shocked to find her here—in Chicago of all places—I fail at first to notice the cause of her swoon.

Then I see it. Her belly protrudes indelicately below the button on her designer suit jacket.

Her pregnant belly.

I do the math very quickly. Valentine’s night. Broken condom. Five months ago. Yes, her bump is the right size to be mine. But I could’ve skipped the calculation—everything’s there on her colorless face. 

She’s having my baby. And she didn’t want me to know it.

Blyat.

I may have thought many times about our night together. I may have even returned to the club in DC to seek her—without luck. But her thoughts of me have not been so fond.

She’s definitely not happy to see me. In fact, she looks downright alarmed.

As well she should be. 

I take in a measured breath.

“Luck indeed,” I murmur, releasing her elbow as she quickly recovers, her ice-princess mask snapping firmly into place on her lovely face. 

Lady Luck was the name she chose at the roulette event where I met her. Until today, I didn’t know her real name. Nor that we live in the same city. 

“Mr. Turgenev.” She offers a slim hand to Adrian, who slouches a little as she shakes it, intimidated by her presence. “And Mr. Baranov, was it?”

“Call me Ravil.” 

Or Master, as you called me the last time we were together.

Her brown eyes skitter to my face again. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. Pregnancy has softened her already lovely face with a few extra pounds. She has a radiant glow. 

“Nice to meet you. Please, sit down.” She indicates the chairs across from her desk. 

 “You came highly recommended, Ms. Lawrence.” I sit, and I watch her as she shuffles the papers in her file. Her hand trembles slightly. When she sees me looking, she immediately drops the papers, snapping her head up and fixing Adrian with a shrewd gaze.

“So, you’re charged with aggravated arson. You allegedly burned down West Side Upholstery where you worked. Your bail posted at one hundred thousand and was paid by Mr. Baranov.” She flicks a glance at me then returns to focus on Adrian. “Tell me what happened.”

Adrian shrugs his shoulders. He’s one of the newest to join my fold. His accent is still thick, despite my edict that he must only speak English. I require that of all my men because it’s the quickest way to learn. 

“I work at sofa factory, yes. But I know nothing about the fire.” 

“The police found lighter fluid on your uniform.”

“I had barbecue after work.”

He sure did. Right after he broke into Leon Poval’s home, hoping to kill him with his bare hands. When he found the man’s apartment empty, he burned his factory down to console himself. 

He’s obviously unconvincing, still in his defensive posture from being questioned by the police. I don’t tell him to act otherwise. It’s not my habit to reveal any cards before they should be turned over, even if she is working for us.

I’m also far less interested in Adrian’s case now that I am working out what’s going on with my beautiful attorney. Why didn’t she tell me? 

“You were only hired there last week?”

“Da.”

I cut him a look. 

“Yes,” he amends.

“Before that you worked for Mr. Baranov?” she glances my way. “As a…structural engineer?”

Adrian shrugs again. “Yes.”

“Why did you take a minimum wage job at a sofa factory when you’re trained as an engineer?”

“I have an interest in building furniture.”

Lucy sits back, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “I am better able to help you if you give me the truth.” She glances my way, as if for support. “Do you know about attorney-client privilege? Anything we discuss about your case will remain confidential and can’t be compelled from me in a court of law.”

I do nothing to intercede. This is her job. She can work for my money. 

Adrian gives her a bored look.

She blows out a breath. “So you didn’t go back to the factory after work that night? Or stay late?”

Adrian shakes his head. “Nyet—no.”

She continues to interview him, jotting things down and studying both him and me. I remain silent. Let her wonder and worry. 

I’m already making my plans. This afternoon I need to find out everything there is to know about Lucy Lawrence. And then I’ll know exactly what angle to take with her. 

“I can probably plea-bargain it down to arson. It carries three to seven years in prison instead of four to fifteen for aggravated.” 

“No,” I cut in. “He will plead not guilty. That’s why we hired the best to represent him.”

She doesn’t look surprised. “All right. I require a fifty thousand dollar retainer, payable before I enter the plea. And I will need more to work on if I’m going to win this case.”

I stand, signaling the end of the interview. “I’ll transfer the money today, and we will discuss the events some more. Thank you, counselor.”

She stands and walks around the desk. Her high heels would say fuck-me if they were red, but because they’re nude are more of an I’ll-fuck-you. Especially the way she struts in them like she lives at that altitude. I’ll bet she’s a barracuda as a lawyer. Paolo Tacone said as much.

The pregnancy does nothing to soften the edges of her imposing stature. If anything, it makes her even more goddess-like. The female form to be both worshipped and feared.

Except I know she’s the one who prefers to be dominated. 

I’m guessing that’s a secret not many share. She was untried at submission when I had her. If she hasn’t pursued it since, I may be the only man who’s dominated her.

That thought shouldn’t get me hard, but it does.

I will dominate her again. 

I adjust my cock at the idea, and her gaze drops to my crotch. Some of her regal composure falls away. A flush colors her neck and the flesh visible in the open V of her expensive blouse. 

I take her hand when she offers it, and I squeeze, but don’t let go. Her intelligent brown gaze tangles with mine, and I hold it. 

Her breath stutters and stops. 

“Adrian, wait in the hallway for me. I’ll be there in a moment.” Adrian leaves, and I shut the door behind him, still holding her hand.

Her eyes slightly widen. She resumes breathing with a little gasp as she tugs her hand away as if I scalded her. “Ravil.” 

A prickle runs through me at the sound of my name on her lips. Because she says it like she’s claiming it for herself. Like she, too, regretted the absence of personal details after our encounter.

But that’s impossible. If she’s carrying my child, she had every reason, right, and responsibility to contact Black Light and request my personal information. To contact me with the news.

And she didn’t. Which means she didn’t want to know my name.

“Do you have something to tell me, Lucy Lawrence?”

“No,” she clips, turning away, her business-like demeanor in full command.

I catch her arm, and she rubberbands back. I immediately release it when she shoots a laser-beam glare at my hand. 

“You really should have called.” I give her belly a pointed look.

She draws herself up taller, the muscles in the front of her neck going stiff. “It’s not yours,” she blurts as color suffuses her face. Her pupils are tiny points of fear.

The lie hits me square in the chest. I was right. She didn’t want me to know the existence of this child.

I cock my head. “Why lie?”

Her neck and chest spread with color, too, but she keeps her voice as even and low as mine. “I know what you are, Ravil. I don’t believe your”—she clears her throat for emphasis— “profession lends itself to fatherhood. I won’t ask for child support. Don’t ask for visitation. Don’t make me prove in a courtroom why you’re unfit to parent.”

My upper lip curls at her threat. I am a man who’s reached the top of my organization and this city with quick, emotionless thinking. I don’t usually take offense. I don’t usually make things personal.

But this time, it’s fucking personal. Lucy Lawrence thinks I’m unfit to parent my child? She thinks she’ll keep this child from me?

Fuck. That.

I give her a smile that promises retribution. “Don’t worry, counselor. I won’t ask.”

I’ll take. 

 “I look forward to seeing you again.” I pack everything into my words—innuendo and warning—and she reads it all.

Untamed – Chapter One

BEN

The glaring neon sign over the door cast the parking lot in a hot pink glow. Thumping bass pulsed through the closed door.

“You sure this is right?” Gibson ran a hand over his beard.

I glanced up at the sign, the cartoon of a woman riding a very endowed horse. Naked. Beneath it, the dive’s name: Hoedown. Fucking hell. If we were in our early twenties, our dicks would have gotten hard at the thought of coming to a place like this. Now? Our dicks were only hard because of the scent we’d picked up. We’d stopped at the gas station on our way to Wolf Ranch, caught her scent, and it led us here…next door.

It was the sweet, vibrant scent that had tickled my nose last time I was in the area. The reason I brought Gibson, the alpha of my pack, back with me this time.

Our mate.

The next deep inhale confirmed this was the place. I shrugged in reply.

“Please tell me she’s not in there letting human men see what’s ours,” he growled, taking in the squat cinderblock building just off the highway. “I don’t want to have to kill every one of those fuckers.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. We may mate in pairs, but it didn’t mean we weren’t just as jealous and possessive as the wolf breeds who mated singly. 

“When we get her out of here, she’s going to know how her new alpha feels about her being here.”

That new alpha? It was him. The leader of the Cowboy Ridge pack.

I wasn’t alpha, but an enforcer, and I felt the same fucking way.

“I’ve waited five months to follow this scent again,” I told him, stepping out of the way to let a man leave. It had been that long since I’d been in Montana, when I’d borrowed Clint’s truck to get down off the mountain after following a rogue shifter to their land. My wolf had perked up immediately at the sweet scent that filled the cab. Some female shifter had ridden with him, and my wolf had been intrigued. I hadn’t forgotten. My wolf… and my dick wouldn’t let me. And now I was sure. 

Gibson clenched his jaw because he knew I was right. We carried the same scent gene, meaning we claimed one female together, just like all males in our lineage, our pack.

“Let’s go get our mate.” He tugged open the door. I followed.

The place was dimly lit and western themed. There was one central stage that cut through the middle of the huge room. It had two poles, one at the back and one front and center at the end of the runway. Along the back wall was the bar, but the clientele were being served by waitresses with low-cut, midriff blouses and tiny, Daisy Duke cutoffs which barely covered their asses. They might be getting tips, but they weren’t getting much of the men’s attention. After I took a deep breath, none of them got much of ours either. None were our mate.

No, the sweet scent came from the hot little number on stage who currently hung upside down on the front stripper pole. How she was able to hang on by wrapping her legs around the shiny metal in a way that defied gravity, I had no idea.

She popped upright with abs that had to be rock hard then dropped gracefully to her feet and lowered into a squat. Her knees were bent, spread wide apart. She was an athlete, like most she-wolves. 

My wolf growled, and I took a step toward her.

I couldn’t look away. She was a slender thing with long whiskey-colored hair, tattoos snaking around muscular arms and a tight dancer’s body but with tits that made a man drool. Hell, most of the guys watching her had their mouths hanging open, and no doubt, their dicks were hard.

Her breasts were big for her slender frame but definitely all natural, unlike some of the other pool floats the waitresses sported.

Gibson tapped my shoulder and led me to an open table along the side of the runway, right up front. We dropped into our seats and watched her writhe up and down, as if she were scratching her back on the pole, all the while flashing every man in the place her g-string covered pussy that peeked out from beneath a tiny, plaid schoolgirl skirt. With knee high socks and high-heeled Mary Janes, she played the naughty school-girl to a ‘T’. The only thing prim about her white blouse was that it was tucked into her skirt. We’d missed the part of her performance where she’d ripped the buttons off so the two halves of the front were spread wide, hiding nothing. It was as if she knew what would get Gib and me going.

Gib leaned forward, set his forearms on the edge of the stage and held a twenty between his fingers. She caught sight of it and crawled our way.

I growled, and thankfully, the music covered it. She arched her back with the skill of a stripper who knew how to flaunt her assets, making those tits thrust out, her nipples plump and ready to be sucked.

She stopped right in front of Gibson and gave him a sly smile. He leaned in, careful not to touch her, and breathed. I heard his wolf growl, and she must have too because she went still, her eyes widening, nostrils flaring at our scent. Yeah, she knew we were shifters and might even have an idea of why we were here.

But then, she slid into motion again, pushing out a hip for Gib to tuck the bill into the hem of her skirt. I moved close enough to do the same on her other side, so we formed a triangle—her up on the raised stage and us sitting before her.

Oh, we’d put our babygirl up on a pedestal, probably naked, and once we hauled her out of here—preferably over my shoulder—we would be the only ones to see her bare from now on.

The song came to an end, and the music cut off.

“We want you between us,” I said in the lull between dances. “In the VIP room.”

Her cinnamon-colored eyes raked over us, a smirk curving at her lips. Her gaze, which had held false pleasure, now held real attraction. The glint of her she-wolf in the glow of her eyes.

“Both of you like schoolgirls?” Her voice was like caramel syrup, and my dick punched against the zipper of my jeans. She grabbed the cowboy hat from my head and set it on top of hers.

“Only the bad ones,” I answered.

“And you’ve definitely been a bad girl,” Gib said.

She smirked and twirled a lock of hair around her finger in mock-innocence. “Are you going to spank me?”

“Count on it, kitten,” I growled.

__

Wolf Ranch: UNTAMED

This Wolf Ranch bonus story can be found only in the Dirty Daddies Anthology. Preorder now.

Two Marks Pack Rule: Always mate in pairs.

I caught her scent when I was on enforcer business. 

Knew she must be the one.

I brought my alpha back with me

Because our bloodline mates in pairs. 

Two males for every she-wolf. Two daddies for our mate.

The one we’re going to spoil and protect. Spank and sully. 

Carry off to make a home together.

Just as soon as we convince her she belongs to us.

[image error]https://geni.us/dirtydaddies

Fierce Pre-order Giveaway

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Vanessa Vale and I have a new release (FIERCE) September 1st and to celebrate, we're giving away this WOLF RANCH TUMBLER. To enter to win, go to this post on Facebook - and

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1) Check out our pre-order on the retailer of your choice
FIERCE - BOOK 5 of Wolf Ranch is up for pre-order!!!
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FIERCE: LIVE ON SEPTEMBER 1!
Pack Rule #5: Happy mate, happy fate.
Fate has it in for me.
She’s sent me the sassiest, strong-willed female imaginable.
Wolf Ranch’s new veterinarian.
A human who thinks I do everything wrong.
Thinks she knows large animals better than I do.
And who doesn’t want anything to do with me.
But I knew the first time I caught her scent she belonged to me.
So I’ll show her a large animal. One she can’t resist.
Or at least one who can’t resist her.
I’ll prove she doesn’t know everything about four-legged beasts.
Especially not the fiercest ones who stalk their prey in the night.
Especially not one determined to prey on her.
Me.
**FB not responsible for this giveaway. If winner is international, tumbler will be substituted with a gift card of equivalent value.

Brut – Contenu supplémentaire

AUDREY

Boyd me prit la main alors que nous nous promenions dans le marché du dimanche sur la place de la ville de Cooper Valley. Des tentes multicolores de couleur jaune, blanche, verte et bleue parsemaient la place où les fermiers, les éleveurs et les artisans locaux mettaient leurs marchandises en vente.

Mon corps me semblait à vif, détendu et je sentais que nous avions beaucoup fait l’amour. Boyd me vénérait depuis trois nuits consécutives. J’avais recouvert sa morsure d’un léger bandage, mais elle cicatrisait bien. Pas très vite, mais certainement plus vite que ce à quoi je m’attendais. Cela devait avoir un rapport avec les propriétés curatives de sa salive.

Bien sûr, le médecin en moi voulait étudier tout cela—pour savoir en quoi sa physiologie était différente de la mienne et ce que cela signifiait. Mais Boyd m’avait demandé de ne pas faire ça, pour le confort et la sécurité de la meute et de ses secrets, et j’avais accepté.

Un jeune couple poussant un bébé dans une poussette nous fit un large sourire. Au début, je crus qu’ils avaient reconnu Boyd, la célébrité du rodéo de la ville, mais ensuite je me rendis compte qu’ils me faisaient signe.

— Bonjour, Dr. Ames.

— Oh ! Je leur fis un signe en retour. J’ai mis au monde cet adorable bébé !

— Ah, on dirait que tu as fait un travail merveilleux. Boyd se pencha et me serra la main. Tu penses que nos petits seront aussi gros ?

Ça me fit rire. 

— Je ne sais pas. Je l’espère. J’aime les gros bébés. Ils sont si mignons. Non pas que les petits bébés ne soient pas adorables aussi.

Boyd me tira vers un stand qui vendait du jus de pastèque. 

— Il faut que tu goûtes ça, ma belle. C’est comme du soleil dans une tasse. Une belle blonde musclée d’une vingtaine d’années, en short de jean, débardeur et tatouages sur les bras, faisait fonctionner la centrifugeuse, en poussant la chair de pastèque dans le broyeur.

— Mets-en deux Shelby, lui dit Boyd. Se penchant vers moi, il me murmura à l’oreille : Métamorphe. 

Il m’avait fait un topo sur tous les membres de la meute. Il m’avait présenté à ses employés du ranch en leur disant que s’ils ne me traitaient pas avec le plus grand respect, il leur botterait le cul. Il m’avait dit que je rencontrerais toute la meute à leur prochaine réunion.

— Boyd. C’est sympa de te voir dans le coin. Je ne savais pas que tu étais de retour. Elle lui sourit.

C’était curieux, je ne ressentais pas le moindre pincement de jalousie ou d’insécurité. J’avais confiance en Boyd. Confiance en notre couple. Surtout quand Shelby me sourit, ses yeux se déplaçant vers le bandage sur mon bras. 

— On dirait que les félicitations sont de rigueur.

Boyd me rapprocha de lui. 

— En effet, elles le sont. Tu as déjà rencontré le Dr. Ames ? C’est la nouvelle obstétricienne de la ville.

— On m’a dit ! Shelby pencha la tête vers la tente à côté de la sienne où une femme était assise et vendait son miel. Margaret a dit que vous aviez fait accoucher sa petite-fille la semaine dernière.

— Ah bon ? Je mis mes lunettes sur mon nez. Je n’étais pas habituée à être reconnue en dehors de l’hôpital.

— Oui, vous êtes la nouvelle célébrité. Elle fit un clin d’œil à Boyd. Et on dirait que Boyd t’a déjà épinglée.

— Carrément. Je l’ai su à la minute où je l’ai rencontrée.

Shelby me tendit une boisson glacée colorée. 

— Tu as trouvé la Bonne, ici à Cooper Valley. Tu as de la chance, Boyd. Elle avait une expression légèrement mélancolique. J’espère que ce pouvoir de séduction déteindra sur moi.

— Ah, je l’espère aussi Shelby, dit Boyd, en lui passant un billet de cinq dollars.

J’en pris une gorgée. 

— Mmm. Ça a vraiment le goût du soleil dans une tasse.

Shelby rayonna, puis son regard se porta au-dessus de mon épaule. J’ai entendu dire que tu avais fait un œil au beurre noir à Markle, murmura-t-elle à Boyd en baissant la voix. J’aimerais m’occuper de son autre œil.

Je commençai à regarder par-dessus mon épaule, mais Boyd me serra la main, et je m’arrêtai, me décalant plus subtilement, pour que je puisse voir. Jett Markle marchait dans l’allée centrale, les épaules raides. Un œil au beurre noir. Quand il se rapprocha, il nous aperçut. Il s’arrêta net. 

— Oh, hey, Markle, Boyd se mit à parler d’une voix trainante sur un ton faussement enjoué. Je voulais vous dire… Cette vache disparue ? Celle que vous pensiez qu’un loup avait abattue ? Il insufflait du mépris et de la dérision au mot loup.

Jett fronça les sourcils. 

— Ah oui ?

— Je l’ai trouvé sur ma propriété. Elle a dû se perdre. Je l’aurais bien ramené, mais vous savez, vous êtes si imprudent avec votre fusil de chasse, j’avais peur que moi ou un autre chien ne se fasse tirer dessus ou quelque chose dans le genre.

Les paroles de Boyd attirèrent l’intérêt des habitants du village. Ils s’arrêtèrent pour écouter, certains d’entre eux se mirent à chuchoter.

Markle fronça les sourcils.

— Vous pouvez venir monter dessus et l’attacher avec une corde. Laissez le fusil à la maison.

D’autres murmures se firent entendre dans la foule.

—J’en ai pas fini avec vous, Wolf, dit-il d’un ton sec, puis il tourna sur ses talons et s’en alla.

Shelby rit. 

— T’avais pas de concurrence là, dit-elle à Boyd. Puis à moi, elle ajouta : J’ai entendu dire que vous aviez sauvé James.

Je secouai la tête. 

— Boyd l’a sauvé. J’ai juste aidé à dégager ses poumons. Vous savez comment il va ?

— Oh, il va bien, dit-elle dédaigneusement. Mais Jett Markle vient de devenir un ennemi à vie pour la moitié de la population de cette vallée. Ça ne va pas bien se passer pour lui ici.

Boyd sourit. 

— Il mérite ce qui lui arrive. Surtout parce qu’il reniflait autour de ma femelle.

Je ris et je lui enfonçai un coup de coude dans les côtes. 

— C’était avant que je te rencontre. Et je l’avais déjà rembarré.

— Ça ne veut pas dire que je ne veux pas toujours le tuer. Il se pencha et mit un baiser sur mon épaule. 

— Dr. Ames ! Une de mes anciennes patientes s’approcha de moi, un bébé roux sur la hanche. J’ai pensé que vous aimeriez voir Hayley.

J’écarquillai les yeux avec un immense sourire que je destinais uniquement aux bébés. 

— Bonjour, Mlle Hayley, comme tu es belle !

Elle roucoulait et pointait un gros poing dans ma direction. 

Sa mère, dont le nom m’échappait, dirigea son attention vers Boyd. 

— Hé, vous n’êtes pas la star locale du rodéo ? Si, si c’est vous ! Boyd Wolf, c’est ça ?

Il secoua la tête. 

— Oui, c’était moi. Mais maintenant, je revendique la célébrité en étant le mari de votre médecin.

Mari. Bien sûr, il n’était pas encore mon mari, pas légalement, mais j’aimais qu’il revendique ce titre. Il était mon compagnon, mon partenaire, mon protecteur.

— Waouh, félicitations ! s’exclama ma patiente. 

Je n’aimais pas trop les démonstrations d’affection publiques, mais quand Boyd enroula ses bras autour de moi par derrière, je ne m’étais jamais sentie aussi heureuse.

Alors que la mère s’éloignait avec son adorable bébé, Boyd me mordilla l’oreille et passa sa paume sur mon abdomen. 

— J’ai hâte de mettre un bébé dans ton ventre, Doc. 

— Peut-être que tu l’as déjà fait, murmurai-je.

— Ça ne veut pas dire que je ne dois pas continuer à essayer. Il me mordit l’oreille. En fait, il commença à me tirer vers le parking. Je pense qu’on ferait mieux de retourner casser notre nouveau lit.

— Maintenant ? dis-je en riant. On vient juste d’arriver.

— Oui, et maintenant nous partons. À moins que tu ne veuilles rester, bien sûr.

— Non, je pense que tu as raison. Ce lit nous appelle.

— Yes ! Boyd envoya le poing en l’air.

Je ris et inclinai mon visage vers le sien. Il s’arrêta et me prit le menton, me regardant avec tant d’affection que je le sentis dans ma poitrine. Dans mes orteils. Partout. 

— Je t’aime, ma belle. Il effleura mes lèvres avec les siennes.

Je fermai les yeux et l’embrassai en retour. 

— Je t’aime aussi, champion.

Il regalo di Natale di Sondra Storia bonus – King of Diamonds

Nico

Calze.

Mia moglie ha appeso le calze di Natale nel nostro appartamento e sta praticamente sprizzando scintille per l’eccitazione, mentre aspetta che tutti ci guardino dentro. 

Tutti significa me, Corey e Stefano. La famiglia che più conta per noi.

Il fatto di non averla tutta per me questa mattina mi rende un po’ scontroso, ma sono riuscito a scoparmela nella doccia prima che mio fratello e Corey arrivassero, quindi almeno non ce l’ho ancora duro.

E davvero, se proprio devo condividerla con qualcuno, con Stefano e Corey non ho problemi. Sono decisamente le due persone, a parte Sondra, di cui mi fido di più. Corey farebbe qualsiasi cosa per Sondra, e Stefano si farebbe anche sparare per me.

Si sente bussare alla porta e Sondra corre a spalancarla. “Buon Natale!” Bacia Corey e Stefano, che hanno le braccia troppo piene di regali per poterla abbracciare. “Oh, entrate. Quelli metteteli sotto l’albero. Chi vuole un latte?”

“Io.”

“Sì, grazie.”

Non riesco a togliere gli occhi di dosso dalla mia bellissima moglie, sembra quasi brillare. Il modo in cui illumina la stanza. Non sono solo i capelli biondi e la sua dolcezza da ragazza della porta accanto. È proprio per quello che è.

Sondra ha trasformato questo attico lussuoso ma impersonale in una casa. C’è in albero di Natale nell’angolo, accanto alle finestre che vanno da una parete all’altra. Sotto sono impilati un sacco di regali.

Sulle pareti sono appese opere d’arte originali ora, roba presa da artisti locali e dal caveau, dove avevo un mucchio di pezzi ammassati lì a caso. Il suo gusto eccellente si riflette in tutto, dalla disposizione della tavola sul bancone da colazione, ai soprammobili che decorano la cornice del caminetto.

Stefano e Corey lasciano i loro doni sotto all’albero e io torno al tavolo della colazione, dove loro poi si servono le focaccine caramellate fatte in casa che Sondra ha appena tirato fuori dal forno.

“Yhum, ancora meglio di quelle di tua mamma,” commenta Corey entusiasta, prendendo un morso del mieloso impasto.

“Deliziose,” conferma Stefano.

“Date un’occhiata alle vostre calze,” dice Sondra con voce cristallina mentre monta la schiuma dei loro latte.

Io mi avvicino con passo blando alla mensola del camino e sgancio le quattro calze lì appese. “E tu hai guardato la tua?”

L’ho riempita la notte scorsa dopo che, nel panico, mi sono reso conto che quel compito ricadeva sulle mie spalle. Sono dovuto scendere e fare razzia di gioielli, cioccolatini e prodotti per la pelle al negozio di articoli da regalo e alla spa. Poi ho ficcato tutto dentro. Ciononostante ho la netta sensazione che avrei potuto fare di meglio.

Voglio viziare Sondra con diamanti e rubini, o una Mercedes nuova scintillante: le cose che mia mamma adorava ricevere da mio padre. Ma a lei non interessano queste cose. Ho dovuto riflettere di più sui miei regali quest’anno, e sono davvero fottutamente nervoso riguardo a quello che alla fine le ho comprato.

Ci sediamo tutti attorno all’albero e infiliamo le mani nelle nostre calze, pescando tra le sorprese che contengono. Nella mia trovo una costosa penna nuova, un ferma-soldi d’oro e un dopobarba. Guardo Sondra negli occhi. “Grazie, bimba.”

Lei arrossisce e scrolla le spalle. “È difficile trovare qualcosa da regalarti.”

La tiro a me e la faccio sedere sulle mie gambe. “Non preoccuparti mai di me, piccolina. A me basti tu.”

Lei si rilassa addosso a me, strusciando il viso contro il mio collo.

Stefano e Corey stanno parlando tra loro.

“È l’ora dei regali?” chiede Sondra.

“Assolutamente sì. Prima tu.” La faccio alzare dalle mie gambe e spingo verso di lei una grossa scatola.

Lei strappa ansiosa la carta del pacco e tira via il nastro. È una scatola molto più grande di quanto sarebbe stato necessario: il mio tentativo di depistarla, in modo che non indovinasse il mio regalo dalla forma.

Lei apre il pacco, leva l’incarto e rimane a guardare.

Mi schiarisco la gola: “Se non ti piace, lo possiamo mettere nella galleria.”

Lei si volta verso di me, gli occhi lucidi di lacrime. “Mi prendi in giro? Lo adoro. È perfetto.” Tira fuori il disegno di Picasso dalla scatola e lo volta per farlo vedere a Corey e Stefano.

“Due diversi esperti di arte me ne hanno assicurata l’originalità.” Quel quadro mi è costato 200 dollari, e sono stato felice di spenderli. Ero solo preoccupato che non fosse del periodo che lei preferisce, o che i colori non fossero quelli giusti, o cose del genere.

“Oh, è vero,” sussurra Sondra. “È vero e mi piace un sacco. Grazie.” Non smette di guardarlo. È un buon segno.

Mi chino verso di lei e le bacio il collo. “Se non…”

“Lo adoro,” dice lei con fermezza. Quando si volta verso di me, le lacrime le inumidiscono ancora gli occhi. “È il regalo più bello che qualcuno mi abbia mai fatto. Non riesco neanche a crederci.” 

Il calore mi riempie il petto. Soddisfatto, mi appoggio indietro con la schiena e la tiro a me. “Bene.”

Vediamo Corey e Stefano che aprono un paio di regali, poi Sondra mi passa una scatola. È piccola e rettangolare. Tiro l’estremità del nastro e slego il fiocco. “Che cos’è?” Sbircio sotto al coperchio bloccato dal nastro adesivo e guardo dentro.

Il mio corpo avvampa e rabbrividisce contemporaneamente di fronte a quello che vedo.

“Cosa… no, davvero… è…?”

Incrocio lo sguardo di mia moglie. Lei annuisce e sorride raggiante.

Prendo tra le dita il sonaglino d’argento, gli occhi che bruciano. “Sei incinta?”

“Solo di qualche settimana. Ho deciso di aspettare Natale per dirtelo.” Si tortura nervosamente le mani, come se fosse incerta della mia reazione.

Le prendo la testa tra le mani e la tengo ferma mentre le tempesto di baci tutto il viso: labbra, palpebre, guance. “Madonna, è fantastico. Sono dannatamente felice.”

“Davvero?”

“Certo che sì!”

“Wow!” esclama Corey.

“Congratulazioni,” dice Stefano, ma non riesco a rivolgere loro alcuna attenzione. Sono completamente concentrato su mia moglie. “Mamma sarà così emozionata.”

Per qualche motivo, sento ancora pizzicare gli occhi al pensiero della gioia di mia madre quando sentirà la notizia.

“Sì, sarà emozionata,” dico, “ma mai quanto me. Questo è il regalo più bello che abbia mai ricevuto, angelo mio.”

“Non pensare di dovergli dare un regalo così ogni anno, però,” dice Corey ironicamente.

Scoppiamo tutti a ridere.

Rifaccio sedere Sondra sulle mie gambe, bisognoso di averla vicina, bisognoso di accarezzarla dappertutto. “Ti renderò schifosamente viziata, piccola,” le prometto, le labbra sulla sua spalla. “Sarai una vera principessa da queste parti, cazzo.”

Lei ride, le lacrime che alla fine le scendono dagli occhi, luccicando sulle sue ciglia. “Lo sono già.”

Metto una mano protettiva sopra al suo addome, salutando mio figlio. “Ti amo, piccolina,” sussurro nell’orecchio di Sondra. “Vi amo tutti e due.”

Lei si gira e mi getta le braccia al collo. “Buon Natale, Nico. Anche noi ti amiamo.”

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Wolf Ranch: Wild – Sneak Peek

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“You okay?” he called, concern lacing his voice.

I blinked the rain away, stared. Blinked again. Well, hell-o. Speaking of a real man.

The guy was huge, at least six-three or four. Solid muscle, as if he lifted little rental cars like mine for exercise, was barely concealed beneath a black t-shirt and cargo pants. He was instantly wet.

So was I, and not from the rain.

He stopped beside me, and even with me standing on the sign base, I stood only a foot above him. His hair was close-cropped and dark, although it was almost black now. He needed a shave, as if he’d lost his razor a few days ago. I bet he had a hairy chest.

Yum.

I laughed, nearly losing my balance again. “I’m fine. I was just having a look.” I pointed toward the flooded road, but he didn’t take his eyes off me.

He reached up and caught my elbow to steady me. A deep V crinkled his forehead. He was probably a decade older than me and wow… h.o.t., HOT.

“That water’s deeper than you think,” he said. His voice was deep, gruff and full of command. My body shuddered, not from the chill from the rain but in response to his words. “There’s no way you’ll get across.”

Piercing dark eyes roved over me, stopping on my chest.

I looked down and realized my nipples were poking against my pale pink shirt which was now practically see-through. He didn’t need x-ray vision to know I wasn’t wearing a bra.

I turned my face to the rushing water. “I know. I just wanted to watch it for a minute.” I turned my foot, and it slid a little on the slick surface.

His grip tightened on me. “Little girl, you’re making me nervous. Hop down before I pull you down.”

Little girl? I stared at him. I was so much smaller and definitely younger, but still. Those same bossy words out of another guy’s mouth would have offended me. Somehow from him they sounded sexy. Virile. It probably had something to do with those bulging muscles in the arm holding me.

He reached for my waist, not waiting for me to comply. “Let’s go.” He lifted me easily to the ground, but kept his hands resting lightly on my waist. He looked around, as if searching for something, then back at me. His gaze roved over my face, dropped to my lips, then looked me square in the eyes.

“You’re standing out here just to look? You’re soaked through.”

“So are you,” I countered.

He tipped his head, like he wasn’t used to being challenged, and I thought I saw the glimmer of a smile before he hid it. He bent his head to mine and inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. I swore I heard him growl. His eyes widened like he was just as surprised by the sound as I was. He swore, but it got caught on the wind.

“Um… you’re staring,” I said finally, when he didn’t look away. I didn’t even think he blinked.

“Yeah.”

Yeah? That was it?

Were we having a moment? Yes, I was definitely having a moment with a gorgeous manly-man stranger whose hands were still on me. I couldn’t wait to tell Audrey.

I licked my lips, and I watched as his eyes followed the movement. He took another deep breath and growled again. He wasn’t in a rush now to get me out of the rain. In fact…

“Um, you’re still holding me.”

His fingers tightened fractionally on my waist, the heat of his touch almost searing. He wasn’t letting go. “I don’t want you disappearing.”

I frowned. “Well, I’m not going that way,” I replied, with a tip of my head toward the rushing water. “Can you… um…” Whatever I was going to say fled when his thumbs began to slide back and forth over my wet shirt. It was as if he was touching my bare skin.

Heat flared. Need. A jolt of thrill. Of longing. Of… zing.

I broke the stare and looked him over. This close, he was huge. Broad, thickly muscled. I was in the middle of nowhere with a guy who could be the Incredible Hulk’s brother. I should be afraid he might turn green and rip me limb from limb, but I wasn’t. His intensity was insane. This close, I couldn’t miss how dark his eyes were, with little flecks of lighter brown in them. All that chemistry I’d been thinking I’d never find? Wow. It was all right here. In his gaze. His touch. His very being. It was as if the lightning in the sky was coming off of us, the electricity and connection that powerful. I was surprised we didn’t sizzle.

Yeah, I’d been reading too many of the romance novels Audrey had recommended. Maybe her whirlwind love affair with her rodeo cowboy had me yearning for my own adventures of the heart—or just the flesh. I’d just assumed I’d never feel… the heat from a guy. Crave a guy’s touch. What his mouth and fingers could do. His cock, God. How he might thrust his hips and take me hard. This guy? I doubted he did sweet.

I barely noticed the rain hitting my face. I only felt his hands. Saw his deep stare. Heard his rough breath. He was just as affected by me as I was by him. “Out of the whole world, I find you here.”

I frowned again. “What?” When he didn’t reply, I asked, “Are you going to let me go?”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Um… okay, well, I don’t even know your name.”

“Colton Wolf.”

My mouth fell open.

This guy was Colton Wolf? Holy shit. There couldn’t be two guys with that name in the middle of nowhere Montana, on a road headed toward Cooper Valley and Wolf Ranch. Audrey had told me about Boyd’s brothers in one of our many gabfests. One lived on the ranch. Rob. The other was a Green Beret stationed on the east coast somewhere. Colton.

He wasn’t on the east coast now. I had the insta-hots for my soon-to-be brother-in-law’s brother. I exhaled, relieved. I wasn’t lusting after a total stranger because not only was it dangerous and creepy, but Audrey’d kill me. She was fine with me having a one-night stand, but I didn’t think she meant pick up a guy on the side of a deserted road and fuck him until I forgot my name. Regardless, I didn’t want to climb a random man like a dang tree, no matter how hot he was. No, I wanted to climb Colton Wolf. And there was a lot to climb.

I’d complained to God in the car just a little while ago. Maybe the raging creek was fate. Destiny. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to get to Wolf Ranch tonight. Maybe I was supposed to be in this guy’s arms.

It seemed my bad luck had changed. Yet we were still standing here in the rain, and he didn’t seem like he had any intention of moving.

I noticed he didn’t ask my name. I cleared my throat. “You’re right, we should get out of the rain.”

Another slice of lightning, then thunder rumbled. He didn’t even blink.

“Colton?”

His gaze had dropped to the side of my neck, and he was looking at me as if I were a buffet and he hadn’t eaten in a week.

Bonusgeschichte

ungezähmt

Wolf Ranch – Buch 1

AUDREY

Boyd hielt meine Hand, während wir über den sonntäglichen Bauernmarkt auf dem Marktplatz von Cooper Valley schlenderten. Bunte Marktstände in Gelb, Weiß, Grün und Blau waren auf dem Platz verteilt, auf dem die einheimischen Farmer und Rancher und Künstler ihre Waren feilboten.

Mein Körper fühlte sich wund und locker und gut gevögelt an. Boyd hatte ihn jetzt drei Nächte hintereinander in höchste Ekstase versetzt. Ich hatte seinen Biss mit einem leichten Gazeverband verdeckt, aber er verheilte gut. Nicht so schnell wie bei Gestaltwandlern, aber auf jeden Fall schneller, als ich gedacht hätte. Es musste etwas mit den heilenden Eigenschaften seines Speichels zu tun haben.

Natürlich wollte die Ärztin in mir das alles studieren – wissen, wie sich seine Physiologie von meiner unterschied, und was das alles bedeutete. Boyd hatte mich allerdings gebeten, das nicht zu tun, für den Seelenfrieden und Sicherheit des Rudels und ihrer Geheimnisse, und ich hatte zugestimmt.

Ein junges Pärchen, das ein Baby in einem Kinderwagen schob, lächelte uns breit an. Zuerst dachte ich, sie würden Boyd erkennen, den Rodeo-Promi der Stadt, doch dann registrierte ich, dass sie mir zuwinkten.

„Hi, Dr. Ames.“

„Oh!“ Ich winkte zurück. „Ich habe dieses niedliche Baby entbunden!“

„Aw, sieht so aus, als hättest du einen fantastischen Job gemacht.“ Boyd sah hinüber und drückte meine Hand. „Denkst du, unsere Welpen werden so mollig sein?“

Ich lachte. „Ich weiß es nicht. Ich hoffe es. Ich liebe fette Babys. Sie sind zum Anbeißen. Nicht, dass zierliche Babys nicht auch goldig sind.“

Boyd zog mich zu einem Stand, der frischgepresste Wassermelonenlimonade verkaufte. „Die musst du probieren, Schatz. Es ist wie Sonnenschein in einem Becher.“ Eine hübsche, muskulöse Blondine in ihren Zwanzigern und kurzen Jeansshorts sowie einem Top und mit Tattoos auf den Armen betrieb den Entsafter, indem sie Wassermelonenstücke oben in die Maschine warf.

„Gib mir einen großen, Shelby“, sagte Boyd zu ihr. Daraufhin beugte er sich zu mir und flüsterte mir ins Ohr: „Gestaltwandlerin.“

Er hatte mir eine Zusammenfassung über alle im Rudel gegeben. Er hatte mich seinen Rancharbeitern vorgestellt mit der Warnung, dass er ihnen in den Arsch treten würde, würden sie mich nicht mit dem allergrößten Respekt behandeln. Er hatte gesagt, dass ich das komplette Rudel bei ihrem nächsten Treffen kennenlernen würde.

„Boyd. Schön, dich hier zu sehen. Ich habe gar nicht gehört, dass du zurück bist.“ Sie lächelte ihn an.

Witzig, ich verspürte nicht den leisesten Anflug von Eifersucht oder Unsicherheit. Ich war mir in Bezug auf Boyd sicher. Sicher in Bezug auf uns. Vor allem, als mich Shelby anlächelte und ihre Augen zu dem Verband an meinem Arm wanderten. „Sieht so aus, als wären Glückwünsche angebracht.“

Boyd zog mich näher an seine Seite. „In der Tat, das sind sie. Hast du Dr. Ames schon kennengelernt? Sie ist die neue Gynäkologin in der Stadt.“

„Das habe ich gehört!“ Shelby deutete mit dem Kopf zu dem Zelt neben ihrem, in dem eine Frau saß und rohen Honig verkaufte. „Margaret meinte, du hättest letzte Woche ihre Enkelin entbunden.“

„Habe ich das?“ Ich schob meine Brille meine Nase hinauf. Ich war nicht daran gewöhnt, dass man mich außerhalb des Krankenhauses kannte.

„Jepp, du bist die neue Berühmtheit hier.“ Sie zwinkerte Boyd zu. „Und es sieht so aus, als hätte Boyd dich bereits für sich gekrallt.“

„Verdammt richtig. Ich wusste es in der Minute, in der ich ihr begegnet bin.“

Shelby reichte mir den bunten, kalten Drink. „Du hast die Richtige direkt hier in Cooper Valley gefunden. Du bist ein Glückspilz, Boyd.“ Sie setzte eine leicht wehmütige Miene auf. „Ich hoffe, das Glück färbt auf mich ab.“

„Aw, ich hoffe es auch, Shelby“, sagte Boyd, der ihr einen Fünf-Dollar-Schein reichte.

Ich trank einen Schluck. „Mmh. Das schmeckt wirklich wie Sonnenschein in einem Becher.“

Shelby strahlte mich an, dann glitt ihr Blick über meine Schulter. „Ich habe gehört, du hast Markle das blaue Auge verpasst“, raunte sie Boyd zu und senkte ihre Stimme. „Ich würde ihm gerne auch noch das andere blau färben.“

Ich machte Anstalten, über meine Schulter zu schauen, doch Boyd drückte meine Hand und ich stoppte mich. Stattdessen bewegte ich mich subtiler, sodass ich ihn sehen konnte. Jett Markle lief den zentralen Pfad zwischen den Ständen entlang, seine Schultern waren steif. Ein Auge war blau. Als er näher kam, sah er uns. Er blieb abrupt stehen.

„Oh, hey, Markle“, sagte Boyd in diesem täuschend lässigen Tonfall. „Ich wollte dir noch sagen, das fehlende Rind? Das, von dem du dachtest, ein Wolf hätte es gerissen?“ Er legte Zorn und Spott in das Wort Wolf.

Jett verengte die Augen. „Ja?“

„Hab es auf meinem Grundstück gefunden. Muss davongelaufen sein. Ich hätte es ja zurückgebracht, aber weißt du, du bist so leichtsinnig mit deiner Schrotflinte, dass ich Angst hatte, ich oder noch ein Hund würden erschossen werden oder so was.“

Boyds Worte lenkten das Interesse der Stadtleute auf dem Bauernmarkt auf uns. Sie stoppten, um zuzuhören, und einige von ihnen tuschelten untereinander.

Markle machte ein finsteres Gesicht.

„Du kannst gerne zu uns reiten und es mit dem Seil einfangen. Aber lass die Flinte zu Hause.“

Weiteres Getuschel von der Menge.

„Das zwischen uns ist noch nicht vorbei, Wolf“, fauchte er. Dann machte er auf der Hacke kehrt und lief davon.

Shelby lachte. „Der ist kein Konkurrent“, sagte sie zu Boyd. An mich gewandt fügte sie hinzu: „Ich hab gehört, du hast James gerettet.“

Ich schüttelte den Kopf. „Boyd hat ihn gerettet. Ich habe nur geholfen, seine Lungen freizumachen. Hast du gehört, wie es ihm geht?“

„Oh, ihm geht’s gut“, sagte sie abweisend. „Aber Jett Markle hat sich gerade die halbe Bevölkerung in diesem Tal zu seinem lebenslangen Feind gemacht. Es läuft hier nicht allzu gut für ihn.“

Boyd grinste. „Er verdient, was er kriegt. Vor allem, da er hinter meiner Frau her war.“ 

Ich lachte und stieß ihm mit dem Ellbogen in die Rippen. „Das war, bevor ich dich kennenlernte. Und ich hatte ihn bereits abgewiesen.“

„Das heißt nicht, dass ich ihn nicht noch immer umbringen will.“ Er beugte sich zu mir und drückte einen Kuss auf meine Schulter. 

„Dr. Ames!“ Eine meiner vergangenen Patientinnen kam zu mir mit einem rothaarigen Baby auf ihrer Hüfte. „Dachte nur, sie würden vielleicht gerne Hayley sehen.“

Ich riss die Augen weit auf und setzte ein breites Lächeln auf, das nur für Babys bestimmt war. „Hallo, Miss Hayley, bist du nicht hübsch?“

Sie krähte und fuchtelte mit einer dicken Faust in meine Richtung.

Ihre Mom, an deren Namen ich mich nicht erinnerte, richtete ihre Aufmerksamkeit auf Boyd. „Hey, sind Sie nicht der einheimische Rodeostar? Ja, das sind Sie! Boyd Wolf, stimmt’s?“

Er schüttelte den Kopf. „Das war ich. Aber jetzt bin ich dafür berühmt, der Ehemann Ihrer Ärztin zu sein.“

Ehemann. Natürlich war er noch nicht mein Ehemann, zumindest nicht rechtlich gesehen, aber ich liebte es, dass er diesen Titel für sich beansprucht hatte. Er war mein Gefährte, mein Partner, mein Beschützer.

„Wow, herzlichen Glückwunsch!“, rief meine Patientin.

Ich war niemand, der viel von öffentlichen Liebesgesten hielt, aber als Boyd seine Arme von hinten um mich schlang, fühlte ich mich so glücklich wie noch nie.

Während die Mutter mit ihrem niedlichen Baby davonlief, knabberte Boyd an meinem Ohr und streckte seine Hand auf meinem Unterleib aus. „Ich kann es nicht erwarten, dir ein Baby in den Bauch zu pflanzen, Doc.“

„Vielleicht hast du das ja schon“, murmelte ich.

„Das bedeutet nicht, dass ich es nicht weiterhin versuchen sollte.“ Er biss mir ins Ohr. „Tatsächlich“, er begann, mich zum Parkplatz zu ziehen, „denke ich, dass wir uns besser wieder der Einweihung unseres neuen Bettes widmen sollten.“

„Jetzt gleich?“ Ich lachte. „Wir sind gerade erst hergekommen.“

„Yeah, und jetzt gehen wir. Außer natürlich du willst bleiben.“

„Nein, ich denke, du hast recht. Das Bett ruft.“

„Ja!“ Boyd stieß seine Faust in die Luft.

Ich lachte und neigte mein Gesicht nach oben zu seinem. Er stoppte, umfing meine Wange und blickte mit so viel Zuneigung auf mich hinab, dass ich es in meiner Brust spürte. In meinen Zehen. Überall.

„Ich liebe dich, Schatz.“ Er strich mit seinen Lippen über meine.

Ich schloss die Augen und erwiderte den Kuss. „Ich liebe dich auch, Champ.“

The Virgin trope...What's your take?

I didn't purposely go out to write "virgin romance" with Wolf Ridge High. But since they are in high school (although they're eighteen before they have steamy sex! lol) firsts are sort of a part of the world.

I once went to a workshop on writing YA, and they said it should all be through the lens of "firsts". Even if it's their third time having sex, that's still in the realm of firsts.
Alpha Knight

I can't have my heroes be so very experienced, either. There's fumbling, misgivings, asking if she's okay after they went alpha-wolf and got way too rough with her. (Of course she likes that...)

It's funny, there's all this fetish with virginity and who you give it to, and whether it's an honor to be the one who took it. When I first had sex I didn't tell my boyfriend I was a virgin. It seems ridiculous in retrospect, but I was trying to pretend I was more experienced than I was. I thought there might be some shame in being inexperienced. (There's just shame piled everywhere on sex, isn't there?).



Sloane is also quite closed and defensive. Of course, Bo doesn't let her get comfortable and feel secure much, so despite the attraction, there's a lot of protection going on. She doesn't want to tell him she's a virgin even though she wants to have sex with him. Here's her inner monologue on the subject...

“I know you're awake.”


Lying here in my dark bedroom with a two hundred plus pound football god lying on the floor beside me has me wishing I already had my V-card punched. Because I don’t want this guy to know he’s my first.


And I do want him to be my first. He knows what he’s doing. My body responds to him.
I respond to him.


If you would’ve asked me a month ago what my type was, I never would’ve said some grease-monkey football player from the sticks who hates my guts, but there it is.
I am quickly becoming powerless around his charm.


And he does have charm. He’s not a meat-head jock. I don’t know how well he does in school, but the guy is smart. He reads people and situations. And he has this cock-sure attitude that makes him both an asshole and wildly attractive.


“Legs.” His sexy voice cuts through the darkness, goes straight to my clit, which has been buzzing and pulsing ever since the vibrator incident.


I don’t answer. We’re not doing pillow talk here. It feels far too vulnerable. Because even though I was fully dressed, I got more intimate with him than I have with any other human being.


“I know you’re awake.”


So how what's your take? Do you preferred an experienced heroine or is the virgin/ first time thing your kick? I'd love for you to reply and let me know!


Alpha Knight (Wolf Ridge High, Book 2)

SHE’S GETTING A FAKE BOYFRIEND--ME.
WHETHER SHE LIKES IT OR NOT.
The leggy car thief is trouble with a capital T.
My brother went down because of her
I need to find him before the cops do,
which means I’m not letting her out of my sight.
Anywhere the human goes, I go.
I’ll play her fake boyfriend.
Sleep in her bedroom.
Go to her prep school classes.
Take her to the homecoming dance.
I will learn all her secrets, find out all her games.
By the time I’m done with her, she’ll be sorry.
Sorry she ever set foot in our shop.
Sorry she ever met me.
Sorry she made me fall for her.