A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2)

A Werewolf to Call Her Own

By Selena Blake

He didn’t miss the way the woman at his side flinched when the enormous boom shook the air around them, reverberating through his bones.

“You all right?” he asked, sliding a hand across her back to give her shoulder a squeeze.

She nodded quickly. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“Fireworks?”

“In real life, I mean.”

Ahh.

“The boom is much louder,” she added.

“Yes.”

She stayed rooted to the spot, her hand gripping the railing tightly. Too tightly. She might be young, but like all vamps she was strong. The wood splintered beneath her fingernails.

He trailed a hand down her arm, felt her shiver, and laced his fingers through hers. “Why don’t you hold on to me? I’m indestructible.”

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Copyright ©2013 Ecila Media Corp.

Dedication

To Zita. Thank you for taking the time to read Ceara and Maxim’s story and for providing invaluable feedback.

Other Books by Selena Blake

Series: Stormy Weather

The Cajun’s Captive
  (erotic paranormal romance novella)

Bitten in the Bayou
(paranormal romance novella, ménage)

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf
(formerly Bound & Determined, erotic paranormal romance, long novella)

Mated to a Cajun Werewolf
(erotic paranormal romance, long novella)

Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf
(erotic paranormal romance novel)

A Cajun Werewolf Christmas
(paranormal romance short story)

Anthologies

Stormy Weather anthology
(5-in-1)

Stormy Weather Collector’s Edition
(5-in-1, plus interviews, deleted scenes and more)

Double The Pleasure
(2-in-1, ménage edition)

Surprising Darcy
(short contemporary erotica ménage)

Just a Little Taste
(short contemporary erotica)

Ready & Willing
(erotic paranormal romance novel)

Series: Deep Space Encounters

Reclaiming Isis

Rescuing Natacha

Azula’s Rebellion

Chapter One

Maxim Ciolek drained the bottle of beer in three long swigs.

“Take it easy,” his brother muttered from the next seat over.

Wise-ass. His brother, who went by Hunter these days, had returned from America a know-it-all. Fifteen years separated them, which wasn’t much in the scheme of things, but some days those one hundred and eighty months seemed like a chasm.

“Hah,” Maxim replied, but didn’t let the comment ruin the warm, gorgeous night. “If that isn’t the pot calling the kettle rusted.”

“Black. The pot calling the kettle black,” Hunter corrected.

“Shut up and drink your beer.”

“I thought you were supposed to be relaxing. Enjoying a vacation.”

“I’m trying to.” The truth was, Maxim was both loving and hating his complete lack of responsibility. Being second-in-command of Novgorod’s growing pack wasn’t an easy job. And most days it was rather thankless. But he enjoyed the tight community, watching it grow.

A waiter brought them another round of drinks, and Maxim nodded his thanks. Beyond the wide stone terrace, a bonfire blazed in the middle of the white sand beach. The massive golden flame was mesmerizing.

He took a swig of his beer and then surveyed the outdoor space. Sand, surf, and palm trees. The holiday music was a little annoying but when it got to be too much, he could just head down to the waves.

Hunter was right. He’d needed a break. A vacation.
Time alone
. Of course, the moment Maxim agreed to get away and scheduled a trip to Mystic Isle, his younger brother had invited himself along. Maxim didn’t mind, so long as Hunter didn’t expect to room with him.

A group of women exited the hotel and wove their way through the wrought iron tables. They were gorgeous. But then, most immortals were.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hunter lean forward in his seat. He wasn’t the only man watching them, Maxim noted. It was as if an electrical wire had fallen onto the terrace, charging the air.

“I call dibs on the brunette.”

Maxim frowned over at his brother.
Dibs?

Before he could point out that four of the five women in the group had brown hair, a group of men left the bonfire and jogged toward the terrace. A tall, broad guy wrapped his arms around the woman with the beautiful brown skin and twirled her around.

There was much laughter and chatter as the groups merged.

“I guess she’s taken,” Maxim said with a smile.

“I didn’t mean
her
.”

Maxim didn’t look, but he would have bet ten Euros that Hunter was rolling his eyes.

The tall, lithe brunette with the short-cropped hair giggled as a blond, a vamp from the look of him, threw her over his shoulder and carried her off. One by one, they headed across the beach to the volleyball net.

“Better hurry before someone snaps her up.”

The curvy one with the latte-colored skin turned, showed him her profile. Maxim sucked in a breath. It’d been a long time since he’d had such a visceral reaction to a woman.

“Bikini or shorts?” he asked on exhale, almost afraid to hear his brother’s answer.

The woman in the red bikini laughed at something the blonde pixie said. Then they turned and tried pulling their friend with the gorgeous profile and short shorts toward the game. She resisted, shaking her head.

Why was she hesitant?

“Bikini.”

“Of course.”

Hunter shot him a look.

The blonde gave up and trotted off. Short Shorts held up a finger, the universal sign for
give me a minute
. She sucked in a deep breath, which pressed her breasts against the T-shirt. He didn’t understand what was so scary about sand and a volleyball. But something had her summoning her courage. She tucked her hair behind her ear again and stared down at the glass in her hand as if it held all the answers.

By the look of her, he bet that the ruby liquid in the glass was not a Merlot. Which made her a vampiress. That explained her innate gracefulness, but not her insecurity.

The brunette in the bikini was giving her friend a quiet pep talk when the guys started wolf-whistling at the pair.

Maxim would never understand why the English called it that. Wolves did not whistle. But the sound had Hunter tripping over himself to run out and join the fray.

Like Hunter, he’d come to the island to relax, work off his stress. Sex was near the top of his list; he was male, after all. But as yet, he hadn’t seen a woman who sparked his interest. Shewolves were too much trouble. Usually aggressive and demanding, they took too much and gave too little. Plus, more often than not, they were on the hunt for a man like him. A man with position and plenty of money.

The shy vamp, though, she had potential. Curvy, pretty, with long, glossy hair that made his fingers tingle with anticipation. Luckily, she seemed in no hurry to join the others.

“Guys against girls,” Avery called as she ran out onto the sand. The guys groaned.

Were they afraid the girls would beat them? Or were they disappointed that they wouldn’t be able to get their hands on the women during the game?

Alone on the stone terrace with a flute of blood in her hand, Ceara Blackwell watched Coco and Grayson kiss beneath the net. Good luck getting those two on separate teams. Half the time Ceara saw them, they were fused at the lip.
Or the hips.

The rest of the men huddled next to the net, arms slung over each other’s shoulders. Ceara recognized the internationally accepted stance for sports related planning. The women formed their own version of the huddle, a loose circle, hands braced on their knees.

She took another sip of her drink and felt marginally calmer. As the only child of two over-protective vampires, she was used to being alone. Her solitary life had given her plenty of time to study, to watch and observe people. Admittedly, she’d had very little practice at interacting with others. She understood the basics of course. Had studied every etiquette book she could get her hands on. But some situations, public situations, brought a riotous band of butterflies to her stomach.

“Come on, Ceara,” Valencia called, waving her over. The brunette stood in the front row, hands on her trim hips. Ceara tucked the annoying strand of hair behind her ear and worried her lower lip.

Coco also took a position on the front row. Ceara wasn’t surprised that the woman wanted to be as close to her mate as possible.

“Get your derriere out here,” Avery added, spinning the volleyball on her index finger. She was the athlete in their coven and took up the serving spot. Izzy, in what Ceara assumed was an attempt to hide, hovered in the middle row.

“It’s solstice,” Coco yelled.

A time of new beginnings. Ceara knew that, appreciated the sentiment. She had the desire to start fresh, leave the past aside. She’d even boldly made a bucket list. But did she have to start on such a public stage? With a game she’d never played? A game that wasn’t even on her list?

A first kiss. That was on the list. And with any luck and a lot of bravery on her part, she might get to check that item off her list by the week’s end.

That thought spurred her on. She couldn’t meet a man and claim her kiss if she didn’t mingle.

She could do this, one step at a time. There wasn’t anything to be scared of out there. Her friends wouldn’t let anything happen to her. And besides, she was a vampire, practically invincible. It was high time she started living like it.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her shoulders back. Step one.

Deciding to keep her flip flops on for now, she stepped off the terrace into the sand. Step two.

Ceara stayed rooted to her spot as the men turned their attention her way. One of them whistled again. Wolf-whistling, she thought it was called. She couldn’t believe he was whistling at her. She wasn’t gorgeous or bold like her coven-mates.

Nerves took over again as he locked eyes with her.

A demon.

The full moon, brilliant bonfire, and terrace lights combined with her vampire sight and she picked out the important details easily enough. Though he kept his horns filed short, there was no mistaking the dark, deep red of his irises. A tremor shot through her and her knees threatened to buckle.

He stalked toward her, a determined glint in his eyes.

“I —um—I think I’ll just sit this one out,” she called, her voice high – almost squeaky.

Walking backward, she tripped over the edge of the patio, and then bumped into a chair. Blood sloshed out of her glass and over her fingers. The demon’s grin kicked up a notch. She deposited the glass on a nearby table so she wouldn’t drop it. With her hands and knees trembling like gelatin during an earthquake, she didn’t trust her reflexes.

Turning in the unfamiliar flip flops, she darted away from the beast who looked like he wanted to eat her up, one limb at a time, and collided with a solid, warm wall. No, not a wall. A person, she quickly realized as large hands shot out to steady her as she bounced backward.

Nose smarting from the impact, she glanced up, eyes watering.

A heartbreakingly handsome man regarded her, the corner of his delicious mouth turned up in amusement. Her body’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming. First, her breathing shallowed, then her stomach fluttered before a flush of blissful heat swept across her shoulders and up her neck. Other parts, parts that had never been excited before, clenched and tingled.

His gaze caught and held hers like a lifeline. He had gorgeous dark brown eyes that reflected every sliver of light the outdoor space had to offer. She’d never seen eyes glitter like that. It was probably because he had a surplus of optical fluid. That would account for the added sheen. But nevertheless, she found their color dreamy and the sparkle mesmerizing.

Then his gaze zoomed up over the top of her head.