Bound By Blood

And he would have. If they’d kept her…

“When you yanked me out of their hands, they realized I was serious. You were ready for hel . But hel wasn’t ready for you.” Her hand fisted beneath his. “Besides, I don’t think the guy in charge down there real y liked for his demons to escape.”

No, Jace bet he hadn’t been eager to lose those bastards. “So it’s over,” he said.

“No.” Now her body brushed against his. “The demons are gone, but things are far from over.” Her head tilted back. Her lips were inches from his. “In fact, I think you promised me that things would just be getting started…”

They would be.

“You locked me in a cage,” she told him, a faint frown pul ing between her eyes. He brought his hands up to curl around her shoulders. “But I also pul ed you out of hel .

Makes us even, doesn’t it?”

Her soft laughter put an ache in his chest.

“I don’t know,” she told him, “I think that might put you ahead.”

His lips took hers because his control broke. The kiss was too rough, too wild, but that was his way.

And she kissed him back just as wildly and with just as much desperate need. He lifted his mouth from hers long enough to growl, “There’s no score between mates. You don’t owe me anything.” He wanted her out of the bar and naked beneath him.

“I owe you forever,” she told him as she rose onto her toes and kissed him again.

“And that’s what I’m giving you.”

Forever with his vampiress…it was the only thing he wanted.

“You’re mine, wolf,” she told him. “And I’m not letting you go.”

Enough. He grabbed her and hoisted her high into his arms. The pack shouted and laughed as he passed them, but he didn’t slow down. He wanted her alone. Wanted in her.

Jace took her upstairs. Since his house had burned, he’d taken over Howling Moon. The apartment above the bar had a bed, and that was al he needed. He kicked the door shut behind them and lowered her in front of him. Morgan smiled at him.

“When are you going to say that you love me?”

He blinked. “But…you already know.” She had to know.

“A woman stil likes to hear the words.”

He yanked off his shirt and kicked off his boots. Then he reached for her. If she needed the words, he’d damn wel give them to her. He’d give her anything. “I love you.”

Her fangs glinted. “And I love you, wolf.”

Enemies no more. Lovers.

Mates.

Forever.

They’d told the devil to screw off, and now they had eternity waiting. Sometimes, it was good to be an alpha wolf…

Very fucking good.

###

Enjoy paranormal romance? Then turn the page to check out Cynthia Eden’s sexy werewolf romance novel, NEVER CRY WOLF, available from Kensington Brava in July of 2011. Excerpt from NEVER CRY WOLF by Cynthia Eden (Kensington Brava, July 2011):

Lucas Simone definitely wouldn’t classify as handsome, but Sarah real y wasn’t the type to be swayed by a pretty face.

She was much more the I-need-a-freaking-badass-to-save-my-ass right then type.

“I should explain…” She began, clearing her throat.

“Yeah, you should.” An order.

Her eyes narrowed. “Uh, I think it’s important to note that I saved your hide back there.” Very, very important to note. In fact, she was wagering on the old wolf pack code to help her out. The I-Scratch-Your-Back, You-Protect-Mine code. He grunted. “I didn’t need saving, babe.”

“Yes, you did.” The wolf would stil be caged if it hadn’t been for her—and the folks she’d bribed. Using the last of my cash.

She needed shelter. Her growling stomach reminded her that she also needed food. And she desperately needed some serious muscle.

Her gaze dropped down to his chest.

Muscle, check.

“We haven’t had sex, lover.” He drew the last out, more like a growl instead of a word. Sarah couldn’t help it, she flushed. She felt her face heat and knew she had to be beat red. The curse of her fair skin. She always blushed too fast. “You were in jail.

They were penning a murder rap on you.” Facts that real y shouldn’t have to be pointed out to the ungrateful wolf. Come on. Where was her thank you?

“I remember every woman I’ve had sex with,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

His eyes, hooded, swept over her, making her cheeks burn al the more. She’d dressed, deliberately provocative, before going down to the station. Her red blouse plunged to reveal the swel of her breasts. The short, black skirt revealed a long expanse of leg. Her sandals were smal , curved and designed more to be sexy than serviceable. He whistled slowly. “I don’t remember you.”

Right, and she didn’t buy for a minute that the guy remembered every woman he’d

—

“Some women like to take things slow. They like to kiss, they like to stroke. Others like to strip, to fuck, as fast as possible.” A pause as his eyes rose back to hers. “They like it rough because they like the rush of being with a monster.”

She swal owed and took a quick step back, unable to help herself because Lucas looked very, very threatening.

“Are you one of those women?” He moved forward, closing that distance. His hand lifted and traced her cheek. “Do you like the thril of walking on the wild side?”

Her heart was racing. Her knees were knocking again—wel , okay, they’d never stopped. She licked her lips and managed, “No.”

His nostrils flared and the grin that curved his lips was grim. “Liar.”

Oh, hel . Shifter senses. Some said their senses were acute enough to catch a lie.

Not to actual y smel a lie, but to hear the jerk of an increased heartbeat, to scent the sweat that broke through the skin at a lie.

“You’re turned on right now,” he told her, voice so rough that she almost shivered,

“just like you were when we kissed outside that damn cage.”

Now what was she supposed to say to that? Especial y since the guy was right?

His hand slid down her face and his fingers curled over her throat. His palm pushed against her pulse. He didn’t hurt her, not like he’d hurt the cop, but Sarah tensed, knowing just how dangerous he could be.

I saw the photos. He’s killed before. Without remorse. Fast, brutal. I know what he can do.

That’s why she had come to him.

When a girl was caught between hel and a hard place, she needed the devil to help her out. “Who are you?” He breathed the words against her. “Not some angel come to save me in my dark hour of need…”

Hardly. She managed to lift her chin. “Let go of me, and I’l tel you everything.”

Almost everything. Okay, not even almost, but at least the important parts. NEVER

CRY WOLF—Available July 2011 from Kensington Brava

***

And if you’re looking for a good romantic suspense, then keep reading for a preview of KILLER SECRETS by Katie Reus.

Available now.

Killer Secrets

Eve Newman pressed her back up against one of the stone pil ars at the entrance to the Underwood’s long, winding driveway. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing here but for the tenth time in the last hour she regretted her decision to put any credence to that anonymous email. ‘Want the story of the year?

Underwood mansion. Nine o’clock. Tonight. Don’t trust anyone and don’t be seen.’

The cryptic message annoyed her. As one of the few journalists in the smal town of Hudson Creek, Texas, she’d had no choice but to fol ow up on the lead. She certainly wasn’t going to give the story to someone else.

Since she’d grown up here—and had attended a few high school parties at the mansion courtesy of Tara Underwood—she knew exactly where the security cameras were and how to avoid them. Squashing the twinge of guilt at using that knowledge against her friend’s parents, she peered around the pil ar. A bright ful moon hung high in the sky il uminating only one car. The District Attorney’s Mercedes. Made sense Richard Underwood would be home. She doubted he’d sent her the email because what could Richard be doing to warrant such a mysterious message?

Frowning, she glanced down the long street. The upscale neighborhood was quiet tonight. Stil she tucked her long hair into the thick knitted cap she’d brought and pul ed it down low on her head. Without it, her strawberry blonde hair would be like a beacon for anyone to see. Wearing al black and feeling like a thief, she gritted her teeth and sprinted toward the closest oak tree on the property. Using the darkness and shadows as her friend, she hurried toward the six foot wal surrounding the property. Her heart pounded wildly and her palms were clammy inside her gloves. She hadn’t even told her boss where she was going. But she wasn’t total y unprepared. Her Glock 33 was tucked into the back of her pants as a precaution.

As she crept down the length of the brick wal , the sound of a male voice shouting made her pause. She was right in line with the main house but the voice was farther away. Almost like it was outside, but too muted. The pool house.

Careful to dodge two of the security cameras, she moved fast until she was hunkered down by a couple of overgrown bushes. The lights from the pool house were on, but the blinds were shut. She could see two silhouettes moving around inside. The shapes were too blurry to make out whether the people were male or female.

After glancing around the backyard to make sure she hadn’t missed any more video cameras, she pul ed her cap down lower and began making her way across the grass. It was almost nine o’clock so maybe this meeting was what her anonymous email had been talking about. A man started shouting again and her curiosity surged higher. She couldn’t understand what he was saying but his tone was angry. As she started to move closer the very distinctive sound of gunshots erupted.

Pop. Pop. Pop. One shot right after another.

Then silence. Adrenaline surged through her like a raging river. And she was standing right in the middle of the yard like a freaking target. Not caring if any of the cameras caught her, she ran toward the cluster of bushes lining the pool house and jumped behind them. She needed to cal the cops, but hiding was her number one priority. Eve held her breath and when there were no other sounds she raised her head and tried to look in one of the windows. The blinds were drawn shut and she could barely see through the sliver between the edge of the blinds and the edge of the window. Immediately she spotted a pair of male dress shoes. Expensive shoes. From the angle it looked like they were attached to someone lying on the ground. Someone not moving. Slowly, she reached down to grab her cel phone out of her pocket. When she patted nothing, she inwardly cursed. Sure, she’d remembered her gun but she’d left her damn phone in her purse which was in her car a few blocks over. A lot of good that would do her now. If someone was dead or dying, she had to get help.

The sound of a door opening and then slamming shut made her duck back down into the bushes. She hoped her dark clothing would help conceal her. Even though she hated to move, she withdrew her gun. Her hand shook slightly but she’d spent countless hours on the range. When the time came, she knew she could use it if she had to. At the sound of footsteps running away, she inched above the foliage only to see the French door that led into the main house slam shut. A light went on in one of the rooms downstairs and then a few seconds later a light upstairs flipped on.

Taking a chance, she hurried from her hiding place and ran to the front of the pool house. Eve cringed as her boots thudded against the stone patio at the front of the smal structure but she couldn’t do anything about it.

Her time was limited.

Easing the door open with her shoulder, she kept her gun tight in her hands. Her gut roiled at the sight in front of her. Next to the splatters of blood on the slick tile floor, the pale yel ow wal s seemed garish and too bright. Right beside the bil iard table in the corner of the room, Al en freaking Martin lay on his back. His dark unblinking eyes were wide open, and a look of shock covered his handsome face. Her gut told her he was dead.

Eve hadn’t exactly liked the guy but, damn. She quickly peeked back out the door and when she saw no one was there, hurried over to the body. After spending months embedded with the troops in Afghanistan, she’d seen her share of dead bodies and she had a feeling he was gone, but she checked his pulse anyway.

Nothing.

Crimson flowed from the three gaping holes in his chest and was beginning to pool on the tile floor. The coppery scent of death fil ed her nostrils.

Instinctively she started to step back. She didn’t want to contaminate the crime scene and she real y didn’t want to leave any evidence behind. She had no business being here but she did need to cal the cops

—even if she didn’t have much faith in their abilities. Her car was blocks over and she couldn’t waste that much time. She just hoped Martin had a phone on him.

Avoiding the growing pool of blood, she felt the front of his jacket pocket until she found his cel . Once her fingers clasped around it she hurried back to the door. When she looked out she saw the light upstairs in the main house shut off.

Crap!

Whoever had done this was probably coming back. She just couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Richard Underwood had shot Al en Martin. Sure, Martin was sleazy, but Underwood was a good, honest DA. Or she’d thought he was. Now it looked like he might be a kil er. Hurrying back the way she’d come, she paused once she was outside the fenced yard to use Martin’s phone. She dialed 911.

As soon as the operator picked up she started whispering into the phone. “There’s a dead body at the Underwood mansion. 685 Kent Ave.”