claws I can’t exactly say. “I don’t think she knows she’s a witch,” I muse out loud. I’m fairly certain she doesn’t, though I can’t imagine how such a thing is possible.
Covens tended to be overprotective, fiercely so, of any witch with such natural talent. Like I said, it’s incredibly rare. The numbers of natural witches have been watered down by mating with humans as well as other creatures without magic. For witches like this singer, so eminently fuckable , the dangers of finding themselves mated to an unsavory sort are far too high. Too bad for Kamra’s coven, wherever they are. They are about to welcome four virile wolves into the family.
“When their first set is over, go backstage and fetch Miss Sama .” I would love to say invite her to my table. Despite our current surroundings, I usually project the facade of gentlemanly behavior. Underneath, I am of course all animal. I mean to have Rollo request a meeting, but I’m afraid I am beyond my capabilities to even pretend to be civil.
I’m just not sure I can wait until the end of the set. One song blends seamlessly into another, building on the sensual spell weaving around the room—and my wolves are getting restless. I can clearly hear the low, rumbling growls coming from those younger wolves not mature enough to hold back innate instincts. That is the bitch of creating a new pack; young, natural-born wolves are a rowdy bunch. Not werewolf rowdy, but rough enough. This songstress is going to be too much of a temptation soon, which means I’m going to have to kick some ass to keep them in line. Seeing as how the only ass I’m the least bit interested in is hers, I need to do something more than claim her. This pack of mine is still too new to test the bonds of loyalty against witchcraft, however unintentional that witchcraft is.
“ Seff , Fillin , there’s an older pack about twenty miles to the south.” I have to snarl to get their attention. And these two are part of my inner fucking circle. The witch will be theirs as much as mine. Well not quite as much, but still, they know fucking protocol. “Go round up as many young females as you can and get their asses here. If they please the pack, they may be admitted.” Probably not. I tend to be choosy when it comes to the females I allow in this new family of mine. “And warn the pack if they mate permanently with any of these females, they are out.” No one mates before the Alpha. It is simply tradition. And no one mates without my express permission. I’m old school like that. “And be quick about it.”
It takes a little too long for Seff and Fillin to get their asses in gear to my way of thinking, but Rollo shoves them along. Good. I probably would hurt them badly if I do it. The lust rising up in me is riding me hard. My claws emerge, digging into the ancient wood of the table. My cock is aching something awful. All I originally wanted to do was find a permanent band for our newly acquired clubhouse, and here I’ve found a mate.
Five more songs to go. By the moon, I fucking hate waiting!
Chapter II
Karma
The set’s finally over. I’m so about to get the hell out of here. The crowd is just strange. None of them got rowdy; they didn’t move. Each and every one either sat or stared at the stage as if I were their next meal. Sure I was using a little “something” extra to keep them from trying to do something stupid, like rush the stage, but they shouldn’t be this calm. Oh, they all looked like some badass motorcycle gang, all rough and ready to rumble, but they acted like they were at an opera or some shit. That alone is freaky enough, but I swear I heard growling coming from several places in the crowd. Growling. Like the animal kind. Low and reverberating, sending a warning chill down my spine. Fucking werewolves can’t even manage to try to maintain a semblance of humanity, yet they want me to believe they’re a motorcycle gang. Yeah, right.
Yeah, this gig is
Kitty French
Stephanie Keyes
Humphrey Hawksley
Bonnie Dee
Tammy Falkner
Harry Cipriani
Verlene Landon
Adrian J. Smith
John Ashbery
Loreth Anne White