The deal with all those
books I’ve read this week
Sunday 16 March 2014
book 3, Seeking My Werewolf
Craig couldn’t
predict setting a werewolf free would lead to this much trouble
A month after the
kidnapping of his best friend’s mate, Phil can’t stop thinking about the Hunter
that set Phil free. He can’t get the smell out of his nose, and it’s driving
him nuts
Craig’s only ever
known one thing: hunting werewolves. He was born into it, raised to do nothing
but kill the beasts—so why the hell did he set one free? Worse, why can’t he
stop thinking about it?
When Phil and Craig
meet up again, they start events that will slowly entangle all of them in the
war that’s about to unfold—as long as they manage to survive the first wave.
Seeking my Werewolf by
Bronwyn Heeley
(Moonlit Wolves #3)
Published on 15th of March
by eXtasybooks
Paranormal Romance, level 4
heat, m/m
Cover Art by Cameron Waters
Craig & Phil’s story / 18,903
words (PFD 94p)
eXtasybooks
ǀ goodread ǀ amazon ǀ ARe
Excerpt
(This is designed to
be read by an 18+ ordinance)
Official Excerpt
Light flashed in
front of Craig’s eyes. He was lucky for the training along with the amount of
physical crap that he didn’t go deaf or even get stunned by the force of the
explosion that went off inside the house. Someone had gone in.
Several
roars filled the air. The clutter and clanging of the wood being moved along
with the wildness of the forest as it was disturbed by the blast made it easier
for Craig to move without being noticed.
Already,
three of them that Craig could see—fucking three—had
moved on. They were taking the path that the rest of the team had. He should
probably have taken some time to warn them, but he had started to move forward
before his eyesight had cleared up.
Replacing
his gun back in its holster, against his ribs, Craig scooped down and grabbed a
rope that he saw in the litter of debris. It was one of the many traps he’d set
up, and Craig hoped it was still attached to the tree. With another few steps,
he was on the side of the werewolf that had been following the rest of them,
leaving it standing between Craig and the tree. Perfect.
The
beast froze when it scented that Craig was there, and that was all Craig
needed. With a quick, practiced move, he had clipped the beast’s legs, pushing
it forward and tangling its legs before moving up and getting its arms.
Craig
fumbled at his first contact with the beast’s forearm as Craig grabbed him. The
tingle in his own fingers had him wanting to move them so he could feel the fur on its arms. The
softness pushed heat up Craig’s arms, stunning him. But it didn’t stop him. No way was he going to be vulnerable to one
werewolf when clearly there were plenty of others around. Craig was sure the
only reason the beast hadn’t called one of its friends back was because it was
still dealing with dirt in its mouth.
That
done, Craig sat back. His knee still snug in the beast’s back, he rubbed his
hands along his thighs, trying to get rid of the prickles that tingled them.
Unable
to help himself, Craig turned the beast over. His body straddled the animal to
keep more control. He removed the gun from his holster and settled the barrel
onto its forehead. Craig wanted the beast to feel the cool metal, allowing
Craig to hold onto an illusion he couldn’t afford to break.
“Why
haven’t you called them, yet?” His question startled him. Why was he asking in
the first place? And why did he sound…disappointed that the beast hadn’t?
The
beast blinked his eyes at Craig and his mind told him to run. He was in
trouble. He needed help. He needed to pull the trigger and end the animal’s
life.
Those
eyes were magnificent.
Oh, God, mate, kill it. Kill
it right now!
Eyes
of a deep dark colour that Craig couldn’t see, but had a feeling were blue,
stared up at him as if it were seeing something—someone—other than Craig. The
shock and sadness had him flinching on the inside as he looked down, wanting
nothing more than to be that person this beast saw.
Kill it! Now! Before it fucks
up your thinking all together.
Its
fur was dark, puffing up around his face, leaving only its eyes still looking
human, which was the only place Craig seemed able to focus on. Eyes that
wouldn’t let him go.
The
hard body under his thighs seemed to be carbon made for the position. Craig
holstered his weapon—Stupid arse, you
need to fucking shoot it—and leant forward, letting their stomachs and
chests rub while he, admittedly slowly, took his dagger from his boot. It was
comfortable, it was snug, and it smelt like something Craig couldn’t, for the
life of him, figure out, but he didn’t want to give it up.
“Fuck!
Fuck!” He was hating himself because
he couldn’t kill the animal. Hating himself because Craig couldn’t stay with
him. Craig lifted his leg and turned the beast onto his side. A quick slice cut
at the ropes around its wrists and ankles, and set it free with little work. Craig
took in one last deep breath and that same instinct that had been telling him
to run this whole time now turned on him, making him want to stay. Craig rested
his forehead on the beast’s shoulder blade.
“Goodbye,”
and off he went, melting into the night, knowing the beast wouldn’t be able to
find him with anything but his eyes, and since it was dark and he was all in
black, that wasn’t going to happen. Craig took off for the rendezvous point.
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