Lucy Suther is a bartered woman who hates the sight of dust rising up on the road into the Double Nought Ranch. It accompanied her on her bound arrival and bore silent witness to her marriage to a smuggler of flesh and drugs.
Now her husband is two months missing and hoped dead, she’s trapped on the remote ranch, and the coyote that killed off her chickens is growing bolder. So, when a sexy stranger claiming to be her brother-in-law drives in on a cloud of dust, she has to wonder -- will trusting him earn her a way off the Double Nought or an express ride to a moonlit grave?
This 14,000+ word erotic novella is for lovers of dark romance, shifters and survival.
The first night home was hell. Shane felt himself being pulled in two directions. In the next room was the woman, Lucy. The desert sun had lightened her dark hair with coppery highlights while it had baked her skin brown. He could smell the warm spice of her skin, the moist earth of her brown-black hair, the aroma deepening as his thoughts traveled down to the V of her thighs. His tongue thickened, yearning for a taste of her skin, the sweat along her stomach and thighs, the cream buried between them. The heat of her body and the sound of restless shifting within her bed drew him naked to lean against the wall, to imagine entering her room and playing out every fantasy he’d had in the last six months of watching her from afar.
But at the back of his neck, he could feel the pull of the moon. Selene, Diana, Luna -- his many-named goddess was outside, naked, pale-skinned and spilling her light across the desert floor. She called, stroked her cold white fingers down his spine while she whispered promises of fresh blood in his ear. She was at her fullest tonight, tugging at him to come out and play.
One call or the other -- Lucy or the moon -- his body demanded he answer. Shane felt the prickle of coarsening hair along his back and stomach. He ran his hand along the wall that divided him from the woman, his nails lengthening to mar the plaster. He wanted her. A lick, a taste. A moan, a scream. He called her name, low in his throat so she wouldn’t waken.
The change in him was coming hard and fast. The need to possess the woman warred with the need to run wild and overwhelmed his control. Leaping onto the bed, he threw the window open and jumped. Four legs hit the ground in quick succession. Turning back to the house, he nosed beneath Lucy’s window, listening again to the sounds of her sleeping.
Shane paced along the wall; energy bristled through his coat. She was Theo’s woman, but Theo was dead. He’d killed him two months back. Pack law gave him the right to keep the fruits of that kill. The ranch and house that had been half his by birth were now his by blood.
And the woman -- above all else -- the woman was his.