A Werewolf to Call Her Own (Mystic Isle, Book 2) (14 page)

“Enough talking, my beautiful mate,” he said and slanted his lips across hers.

His erection, hot and hard, nestled between them. She ran her fingers through his hair.
Oh
, his wolf liked that. And then she hooked a thigh over his hip, opening herself to him. He ran a hand from her hip to her knee, mesmerized by the softness. She gasped against his lips when he rocked his hips against her, his cock nudging her clit.

Ceara sucked on his tongue, pleased with the groan that rumbled from his chest. She’d never felt more alive. Pressed against him, moonlight on her skin, naked for all the world to see.

She reveled in his touch. His strength. The delicious scent of him. She could hardly believe he was her mate. After all the anxiety, loneliness and waiting…

“Perhaps
I
should tie you to the railing so you don’t disappear on me again,” he murmured. Deep down the idea of being tied to his bed, at his mercy, excited her. She trusted him. With her heart. Her body. Her soul.

“Perhaps you should,” she teased. His lips stopped on their quest along her jaw. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Growling low in his throat, he pressed her back until her hips hit the railing. With the moon out, shining down, anyone could see them. But she only had eyes for the man kneeling before her.

She sucked in a breath as his tongue traced the edge of her panties. When he lifted her leg and draped it over his shoulder, she locked her hands around the railing and concentrated on remaining upright.

He shot her a wicked smile before leaning in and licking down her slit. The fabric provided incredible friction and her hips jerked. “Max—”

She ran her tongue over her fangs. Pleasure mounted inside her and her muscles tightened, desperate for release. He pulled her panties to the side and his lips closed over her clit. As he started sucking gently, she lost all ability to speak.

He sank one finger into her pussy, priming her. Her head dropped back and she closed her eyes. So good. So close. And then—

His fingers closed over her left nipple, pulling it gently until a flame of desire washed over her. A resounding spark started a fire deep inside.

Unaware of her surroundings or audience, she cried out as a powerful orgasm swamped her.

Maxim gave her no time to recover. She was still humming with pleasure when he stood and leaned her back over the railing. She barely had time to clutch his shoulders before he entered her with one well aimed thrust. So complete. So full. She sighed, unable to tell where he began and she ended.

She smiled. Here they were again. The same spot where he’d taken her those months ago. Taken her, made her his forever. Her heart felt ready to burst.

He wrapped strong arms around her, holding her still as he thrust into her again, setting a steady tempo. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles behind his ass, accepting his weight.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, pistoning in and out of her.

She agreed. Though he probably wouldn’t want to be called beautiful. She bit her lip, drawing blood, as she watched the look of concentration on his handsome face. Then her gaze dipped to the thumping vein at the side of his neck.

“Bite me, vamp. Know you been wantin’ to.”

She hadn’t thought she could love him anymore than she already did. But then he’d welcomed her bite, showing his trust in her. She smiled up at him. “Am I that easy to read?”

He grinned and her heart bounced around in her rib cage. He didn’t slow the driving rhythm as she pulled herself closer and nuzzled his neck. As they hurtled toward completion, she scraped her fangs against his skin, delighting in the way he trembled against her.

And then she sank her teeth into his flesh. His blood washed over her tongue, sweet and rich. An ecstasy like she’d never known flooded her as she drank from him. Marking him. Just as he’d marked her.

His big body tightened around her, his penis flaring inside her as he came. He growled low in his throat. Then he lifted his head and honest–to–goodness howled at the moon. It was a beautiful sound. Pure, glorious.

A happy wolf. A mated wolf.

A wolf to call her own.

***

Dear Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Maxim and Ceara’s story. Ceara first came to me wearing that killer dress from second Skyline bar scene and it was the first one I wrote for the story. Only after delving further into her character did I learn about her painful past.

I’ve never been a believer in age dictating life. I’ve known ninety year old men who’ve gone sky-diving, eighty year old women who finally finished high school, and teens who’ve started multi-million dollar companies. So why not find love in your early twenties?

For Ceara, I had to find just the right man. I love playing match maker. In this case, I think I did pretty good. Maxim and Ceara compliment each other. Isn’t that one of the greatest qualities a relationship can have? As Jerry McGuire once said “you complete me.”

I feel that way about my readers. You guys keep me writing. Your notes, feedback, and online comments brighten my day. I hope my stories do the same for you.

I keep my website updated regularly and you can frequently find me chatting with readers on my blog. Sometimes I let my assistant give away books on Fridays, so stop by.

And if you’re in the market for free books, be sure to sign up for my newsletter. Joining gets you instant access to my Members Only lounge and every good WolfCub knows that the Members Only Lounge is where it’s at. That exclusive key gets you into the Wolfpack. And there are currently four free reads waiting for you. Ready to sign up?
http://site.selena-blake.com/members/

I hope you enjoyed A Werewolf to Call Her Own. But even if you didn’t, I’d still appreciate a review. I read each and every one and I learn from them so that each book is better than the last. If you’re not sure where to leave a review, here are a few suggestions. Why not start at the site where you purchased your copy? I’m active on Goodreads and review books there myself. Look me up. There’s also Shelfari and LibraryThing. If you have a blog, that’d be a great place too.

As always, I love hearing from my readers. You can write to me at [email protected].

Happy Reading,

Selena

P.S. Get this book signed at
http://www.authorgraph.com
.

Keep reading for an excerpt from the next book in the Mystic Isle series, Games Demons Play. It’s Izzy’s turn to find love in paradise.

***

Chapter One

“Hello, Gorgeous.” Izzy Lukin trailed the edge of her index finger down the flawless black paint. The Bugatti Veyron could have been a man, she lusted for it so.

“Who are you talking to?” Avery’s voice echoed in Izzy’s ears thanks to her iPhone’s earbuds.

“No one,” Izzy said quickly, snatching her hand back.

The dim light in the garage made the sleek sports car extra seductive. Like a woman dripping in candlelight. But a woman did not come with twelve hundred horsepower. Or a body with enough contours it could have been a world-class bodybuilder. And a gleaming paint job that called to Izzy like a droplet of blood.

Like all vamps, she was attracted to shiny, sparkling things, and the car in Valencia’s garage certainly glittered. Especially since Izzy had opened the enormous garage door, letting the pale beams of light from the full moon dance through the space.

“You're not doing what I think you're doing?” Avery asked. Avery, the raven-haired American beauty with the exotic Asian features, was fast and loose with men, but when it came to coven rules, she might as well have been a nun.

“Of course not. I was only talking to her.” Talking. Lusting after her. Her being Gorgeous, the car.

“I still think it’s crazy-sauce that V nicknames her cars,” Avery replied. As a former Olympian and sports therapist, Avery was practical. Analytical. She was not particularly fantastical.

“She nicknames her jewels too.”

“Well, honey, if I had stones like hers, I'd name ’em too.”

“I will be back before sunup. Do not worry about me.” She clutched the collection of hangers with her left index finger and tossed the garments over her shoulder.

“I still don't understand why you don't let the butler take care of your dry cleaning.”

Avery didn't mind being waited on. Izzy hadn't gotten used to it. And besides, sometimes she just needed her space. “I like to get out of the house.” Despite the enormous mansion and several hectares of land, she still got restless sometimes and needed to be out among people. It was probably because she grew up in a big city where you could not move without rubbing shoulders with your neighbor.

Izzy glanced over at the motorcycle Valencia had given her on the one-year anniversary of the night she’d been turned. Jet-black with sparks of chrome. A beast of a machine that purred between her thighs, but it wasn’t the Bugatti.

She glanced back at the car and a tendril of desire snaked through her body. What would it be like to drive such a precision machine? She could almost feel the bucket seats curving around her, hugging her, cupping her ass like tight denim. Like the ultimate caress.

Over the top of the car, 
Izzy spied the shadow box containing keys to all the cars in the garage.
 Normally, Izzy drove her motorcycle or if she needed a car, she drove Lucifer, the Mercedes. But right there for the world to see… The keys to the Bugatti. 
Did she dare?

“Do not wait up.” As she hit the button on the phone to disconnect the call she heard Avery call her name. There was no way for Avery to make it from her room to the garage in time to stop Izzy. Unless she flashed.

Valencia would never know. She was in New York City for fashion week, Izzy reasoned with herself.

The engine roared, then purred.
 A tremor went through Izzy’s body as she adjusted the mirrors. The car was ridiculously expensive. She pulled into the courtyard and flipped on the lights. It was not often that Izzy got butterflies of excitement in her stomach. Being wrapped in this glorious car was one of those times.

Smiling, she stepped on the gas.

The gas pedal was sensitive, just as she’d expected. It would be so easy, too easy, to release the power. To accelerate across the countryside.

When she rolled to a stop on the outside of town she looked at the sign across the road. Left to town. Right… to Germany. To that autobahn.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, she weighed her options. Her impulsive nature took over and she promptly forgot about her dry cleaning.

A speed-limitless stretch of highway wasn’t that hard to find. Gorgeous answered every request for power and precision. Each time she shifted gears, Gorgeous threw Izzy deeper into the seat. And into love. The power was like a full body blow, but the leather seat broke her fall. Izzy lovingly stroked the steering wheel and spoke to the car in her native tongue.

The dial on the dashboard skipped past one hundred. One-twenty. One-thirty. Gorgeous wasn’t even straining. This car had been created for this road, Izzy was sure of it. The road was deserted, curving gently, beckoning.

At one-sixty-five Izzy let out a yip of pure glee. She’d bet her favorite boots that Valencia had never let Gorgeous run like this.

A pair of headlights flashed into her rearview mirror, skipped to the driver’s side mirror and then disappeared. A red flash caught her attention as it passed her on the left and disappeared down the road.

Frowning, she gritted her teeth together and pressed the accelerator harder. The engine gave her what she wanted. More power. More speed. One-seventy. One-eighty. One-ninety. Two-fifteen. At two hundred and thirty-five kilometers an hour, she saw the taillights of the Ferrari.

“You are mine,” she said out loud.

Gorgeous gave another burst of speed, her tires gripping the road like she was on rails. At two-fifty, she breezed by the Ferrari. Though she doubted the driver could see, she threw up a hand and gave a little wave.

The Bugatti was the fastest street-legal car in the world. Top speed of two hundred and sixty-seven miles per hour. If that guy wanted a race, he was going to lose.

She smiled when she saw his headlights in her rearview mirror again. The Ferrari crossed into the left lane and pulled up next to her. He was a smooth driver, she’d give him that. At least, she assumed the driver was male.

High on the power, the speed, she pressed the gas pedal a little further. The Ferrari matched her speed. A little more. Same result. Faster still. Faster until her heart was in her throat.

She let her foot off the gas. Gorgeous slowed. Izzy glanced at the dash. Damn. Dawn wasn’t too far away.