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Authors: Morgan Rae
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heavily in sleep. The fire had gone out, leaving nothing but crispy ash.
Cami…
She felt it calling her. Quietly, Cami unraveled from Marcus’s warmth and stepped over the rug towards the door. Her fingers played absently over the notches in the bear’s-head bannister as she passed it.
Cami...
The crisp autumn night hit her, but Cami walked through it in her white dress as though in a trance. Grass blades, wet with dew, ticked as her bare feet padded into the woods. The moon hung high in the night sky, skewered by leafless branches.
The grizzly bear rustled behind the bushes. She could see the hunch of his back, hear his low growl. She saw a flash of orange-red eyes before the bushes shuddered with a bone-cracking snap and the bear vanished from sight. She knew this part of the dream. She stepped forward and felt no fear in her heart now.
She stepped past the bushes and saw him.
He was crouched in the bushes and cast in shadow, but she could still see the wild black hair that hung braided down his back. His beard, too, was braided, and hung long from his chin. His body, naked under the moon, was built like a Roman statue, skin desert-dust brown. She knew the scar over his eye, the notch of hair missing in his eyebrow.
Then he stood. And smiled. “Hello, Cami.”
She blinked. Wait. This wasn’t part of the dream. His accent was strange, gravelly, as though the words were forced from his throat.
“Who are you?” she asked, bold in the bare confidence of her dream.
His arm shot out and he grabbed her by the throat, fingers crushing. Cami gasped and struggled, legs flailing, feet kicking just inches above sweet ground.
Okay. So this was not a dream. Not a delusion. This was very, very real. Cami’s fingers clawed at his hand, his arm, but the bear-man’s grip did not budge.
“Someone who has been waiting for this,” he snarled. “For a very, very long time.”
Hunting for Curves
(Keeper of the Alphas: Part 2)
By Morgan Rae
Chapter 1
The door of his black 1969 Chevrolet Camaro slammed with a thunk as Jayce climbed out of it and headed through the trailer park, feet crunching dry leaves. Fancy car for a very un-fancy kid, but like everything in his gypsy-style family, it was a hand-me-down. Passed down from his old man.
The Alastairs passed down a lot.
Cars.
Clothes.
A secret knowledge of the unnatural Beasts that lived in the woods and the tools to kill them.
Jayce had been trained from a young age how to spot, track, and kill the Beasts that haunted the woods outside their trailer park home. But as much as his father tried to, he couldn’t train Jayce to enjoy it. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on which side of the supernatural spectrum you were on), there was someone else in the trailer park with enough bloodlust for the both of them.
Pam was waiting for him in front of his trailer with a smirk cut diagonally across her round face. She had a full figure (meat on her bones, as she put it) that she hid under an oversized cargo jacket. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, accentuating the jagged chop to her hair.
“Heard you riling up the Keeper’s girl last night,” Pam said when Jayce was within earshot. “Sounded like fun.”
“Yep,” Jayce said, shouldering past her to get inside.
Pam blocked him. Coy grin still on her face. “How come I didn’t get an invite?”
Now it was Jayce’s turn to pull a humorless smile. “Only room for two in my bed.”
Pam’s humor vanished and turned into a scowl. All business now. “So?”
“So what?”
“So I know you didn’t spend all night playing hide the sausage. Is she protecting the Beast?”
Jayce looked away. “I don’t know.”
“What d’you mean, you don’t know?” Pam barked. “If that bitch is protecting her mommy’s pet, she’s gonna be a problem, just like Lynn—”
Jayce grabbed Pam by the front of her jacket and shoved her up against the tin casing of his trailer. “She’s not a bitch,” Jayce
Cami…
She felt it calling her. Quietly, Cami unraveled from Marcus’s warmth and stepped over the rug towards the door. Her fingers played absently over the notches in the bear’s-head bannister as she passed it.
Cami...
The crisp autumn night hit her, but Cami walked through it in her white dress as though in a trance. Grass blades, wet with dew, ticked as her bare feet padded into the woods. The moon hung high in the night sky, skewered by leafless branches.
The grizzly bear rustled behind the bushes. She could see the hunch of his back, hear his low growl. She saw a flash of orange-red eyes before the bushes shuddered with a bone-cracking snap and the bear vanished from sight. She knew this part of the dream. She stepped forward and felt no fear in her heart now.
She stepped past the bushes and saw him.
He was crouched in the bushes and cast in shadow, but she could still see the wild black hair that hung braided down his back. His beard, too, was braided, and hung long from his chin. His body, naked under the moon, was built like a Roman statue, skin desert-dust brown. She knew the scar over his eye, the notch of hair missing in his eyebrow.
Then he stood. And smiled. “Hello, Cami.”
She blinked. Wait. This wasn’t part of the dream. His accent was strange, gravelly, as though the words were forced from his throat.
“Who are you?” she asked, bold in the bare confidence of her dream.
His arm shot out and he grabbed her by the throat, fingers crushing. Cami gasped and struggled, legs flailing, feet kicking just inches above sweet ground.
Okay. So this was not a dream. Not a delusion. This was very, very real. Cami’s fingers clawed at his hand, his arm, but the bear-man’s grip did not budge.
“Someone who has been waiting for this,” he snarled. “For a very, very long time.”
Hunting for Curves
(Keeper of the Alphas: Part 2)
By Morgan Rae
Chapter 1
The door of his black 1969 Chevrolet Camaro slammed with a thunk as Jayce climbed out of it and headed through the trailer park, feet crunching dry leaves. Fancy car for a very un-fancy kid, but like everything in his gypsy-style family, it was a hand-me-down. Passed down from his old man.
The Alastairs passed down a lot.
Cars.
Clothes.
A secret knowledge of the unnatural Beasts that lived in the woods and the tools to kill them.
Jayce had been trained from a young age how to spot, track, and kill the Beasts that haunted the woods outside their trailer park home. But as much as his father tried to, he couldn’t train Jayce to enjoy it. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on which side of the supernatural spectrum you were on), there was someone else in the trailer park with enough bloodlust for the both of them.
Pam was waiting for him in front of his trailer with a smirk cut diagonally across her round face. She had a full figure (meat on her bones, as she put it) that she hid under an oversized cargo jacket. She crossed her arms and tilted her head, accentuating the jagged chop to her hair.
“Heard you riling up the Keeper’s girl last night,” Pam said when Jayce was within earshot. “Sounded like fun.”
“Yep,” Jayce said, shouldering past her to get inside.
Pam blocked him. Coy grin still on her face. “How come I didn’t get an invite?”
Now it was Jayce’s turn to pull a humorless smile. “Only room for two in my bed.”
Pam’s humor vanished and turned into a scowl. All business now. “So?”
“So what?”
“So I know you didn’t spend all night playing hide the sausage. Is she protecting the Beast?”
Jayce looked away. “I don’t know.”
“What d’you mean, you don’t know?” Pam barked. “If that bitch is protecting her mommy’s pet, she’s gonna be a problem, just like Lynn—”
Jayce grabbed Pam by the front of her jacket and shoved her up against the tin casing of his trailer. “She’s not a bitch,” Jayce
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