Ain't No Bull

The Veil 4

Ain’t No Bull Isola “Izzy” Malone is proud to be an Amazon. After years of roaming, she finally finds a home with the Blood Maiden Tribe. But contentment made her wild, which is how Izzy ends up exiled to Middle-of-Nowhere, Wyoming. The most fun she can look forward to is rescuing a dumb bull from a group of nymphs. Only he isn’t a bull, but a minotaur. A really hot, sexy, big minotaur. Grant Strickland isn’t ready to commit to a harem of placid cowswans; not yet. But when he’s accosted by a crazy Amazon who’s determined to “save” him, he thinks the whole mating thing might be worth a try. Trouble follows Izzy, but it’ll take both of them to stop it from becoming war. Grant will use his skills, and cheat, to show Izzy where she really belongs is with him as a mate. Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal, Shape-shifter Length: 93,013 words

AIN’T NO BULL The Veil 4

Danica Avet

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance AIN’T NO BULL Copyright © 2011 by Danica Avet E-book ISBN: 1-61034-569-X First E-book Publication: July 2011 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Ain’t No Bull by Danica Avet from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

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DEDICATION To start off, I have to thank my fabulous critique partners, the amazing and talented Daisy Harris and Avril Ashton. You ladies have cleaned up my messes, pointed out plot holes, warned me about crazy characters, and been there for me when I was at the end of my rope. I thank the writing gods every day that y’all found me floundering on the interwebz. To my readers, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for enjoying the Veil as much as you have. When I started this series, I did it for my entertainment. Now, I write for you in the hopes that my characters’ antics will make you smile and forget your troubles for a while (and no, I did not intend that to rhyme). I hope you enjoy Izzy’s book. She’s one of my favorite characters since she’s a combination of every woman in my whacky family. And last, but not least, thank you Mom, Adene, Melody, Jenny, and Laura. You may not realize it, but you inspire me to write snarky, kick-ass heroines. Keep going strong and stay beautiful.

AIN’T NO BULL The Veil 4 DANICA AVET Copyright © 2011

Chapter One Fucking Wyoming. Of all places to be exiled to, why couldn’t it be Maui, or Palm Beach? Somewhere tropical with lots of half-naked men waiting to be spanked? No, she ended up here. Where it was cold as hell and there probably wasn’t a male in a fifty-mile radius good at cleaning. Mumbling to herself, Isola “Izzy” Malone got out of her Tahoe and grabbed her duffle bag out the cargo area. Snow crunched under her feet as she stalked to the longhouse. The Black Dogs had abandoned this camp thirty years earlier, leaving behind shells of buildings. Stomping inside the structure Izzy groaned and dropped the bag. Fucking wonderful. Cobwebs the size of demons decorated the corners of the building, thirty years of dust had accumulated on the floors, and there was a big hole in the roof. The pile of snow that had settled inside was nearly as tall as she was. Sniffing the air cautiously, Izzy determined that no other Veilerians had crashed there recently, though the sweet smell of marijuana lingered in the air. Kids hiding out for a toke, she figured. They’d be surprised if they showed up again because there was no way she’d let a bunch of snot-nosed brats interrupt her piss-off time. A wolf howled in the distance, making her feel homesick. Wyoming was a far cry from south Louisiana. At this time of night,

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she’d be on her way to Lafayette to watch some man candy with her best friends at her side. But she wasn’t, all because of a fucking song she shouldn’t have played. Izzy kicked the wall, making the longhouse shudder. Spitting out a curse, she grabbed her bag. She’d sleep in the SUV tonight, and tomorrow she’d clean up the building, repair the roof, and ready herself for a long, boring year. **** The nymphs were ready for action. The come-hither looks on their beautiful faces set his libido into overtime. If there was one thing a minotaur couldn’t refuse, it was a hot woman who was ready for a roll. Multiply that hot woman by five and he’d be in nirvana the rest of the week. They’d approached him, all six of them, while he was having a few drinks with his employees, and now he followed them from Duffy’s like any red-blooded male would. Grant waved at his employees with a smug smile. The nymphs hadn’t made any secret of what they wanted when they’d surrounded him at the table. He’d had one on each knee and the rest stroking parts of his body for nearly an hour. He was ready. Duffy, the demon lord who owned the place, shot Grant a dirty look as he polished the hardwood of his bar. Since it was the only bar in Eustis, Wyoming, Duffy pretty much made up his own rules and didn’t give a shit if the bar was one of the ugliest buildings in town. Grant winked at the demon just as he slammed the door shut, knowing it would irritate him. The little beauties crowded closer to him as he led them to his truck, his dick hardening with every step. Luckily, the nymphs were petite because they had no trouble piling into his King Cab F-450. Pleased with the upcoming orgy action, Grant relaxed for the first time in months as he drove to the perfect spot. The old Amazon camp

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was always empty, and with no one around, they could make as much noise as they wanted. The females cooed over his muscles and the size of his chest as he struggled to concentrate on the road. They marveled at his height and stroked his ego like professionals. Grant groaned as one of them stroked more than his ego. Oh yeah, this was turning out to be the best night ever. Just that morning his bid to provide security for the Veilerian Ball had gone through. The good press would bring Strickland Securities to the masses. His goal to have the leading protection agency in the Veil was right on track and he couldn’t have been happier. “Ladies, ladies,” he said with a smirk as two of them slapped at each other. “There’s more than enough of me to go around.” “Mm, I just bet, minotaur,” the nymph in the passenger seat purred, her eyes trained on his crotch. “I love how big you are,” another said, this one a redhead with gigantic breasts. “How big are you as a bull?” “Where are we going? Will it take long to get there?” one of the blondes asked, her bright eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror. Grant chuckled at her impatience even as he pulled into the old Black Dog Camp. “We’re already here, babe. This is an old Amazon camp. They left Eustis years ago, so we have it all to ourselves.” He pulled to a stop in the middle of camp. The females were sexy, but he didn’t trust them in his pastures. His peace and quiet was almost as important to him as his company, and the only ones who ruined it on a regular basis were his sisters and mother. Grant had a female wrapped around his waist the minute he got out of the truck. He laughed, rubbing her ass as he led the others towards the longhouse. “Could you change for us?” one of the nymphs asked in a breathless voice. It wasn’t the first time a female asked him that. There was something about the minotaur’s human size that made women want to

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see him in his animal form. He sighed, deciding to indulge them. Setting his passenger on the ground, he stepped back. The change came swiftly. At a hundred and fifty-eight, Grant was an old hand at shifting. All three shapes came to him easily, though he rarely ever used the half-man, half-bull form for anything. His body thickened, his horns extended, and his hands tightened into hooves. His clothing peeled away from his new form, falling to puddle on the ground. The females made soft gasping sounds of appreciation as he became the bull. Their little delicate hands stroked over his black hide, caressed the length of his horns, and tickled the ring through his septum. He snorted, stamping his hooves. He hated anyone touching the ring, which wasn’t surprising since the ring could easily incapacitate him. He was just about to change back to lead the women to the longhouse when one of those little hands grabbed the ring and tugged. Tears burned his eyes at the sharp pain. He instinctively tried to shift back to his human form, but couldn’t concentrate with the pressure on the ring. “Finally,” the nymph said with a snarl. “Let’s get his ass to the ceremony site before Master Ormond comes looking for us.” The women flowed around him, following the little bitch leading him across the Black Dog Camp. Shit, he was in trouble. Again. All because of his dick. His employees were still at the bar thinking their boss was playing a half dozen rounds of giddy-up. His sisters were probably picking out the cow-swans they wanted to introduce him to. He was on his own and incapacitated. Fuck. His ears flickered back and forth as he searched the night for any kind of aid. If there was one thing his father had taught him before kicking him out of the herd, it was never to be too proud to ask for help. The nymphs led him across the open center of the old camp, heading north. They were quiet, though the grip around his ring never

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relaxed. What did they want with him anyway? He wasn’t an important person, living quietly on his land. Maybe they were with a rival security company. His work for the Ball was a prime job, one most people would kill to get. The other agencies he’d been up against were big hitters with a lot more experience, but Strickland Securities had won. A soft hiss broke the silence. Rolling his eyes, he saw a tall figure standing in the darkness of the longhouse. Grant couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but the height made him think it had to be a man. He almost let out a moo of relief as the nymphs stopped dead in their tracks. “Well, well, what’s this?” a husky voice asked, sending shivers down Grant’s spine. “Is this a housewarming gift? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, there’s nothing I love more than sautéed bull balls.” Grant’s hope for rescue died a harsh, swift death and his balls shrank into his body. Holy shit.

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Chapter Two Izzy held her dagger against her leg. She didn’t want the little nymphs to see the glint of steel in the moonlight. The bull rolled his eyes, the whites showing as foam gathered around his mouth. Poor thing was freaking out, and why wouldn’t he? The nymph holding his ring was hanging off it like a booger. Didn’t they know how much pain and discomfort that caused the cattle? “This isn’t any of your business, fat ass,” one of the nymphs snarled. She had red hair and great big breasts that made her look like the prow of a ship. Izzy raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to grin. “Fat ass? Hon, I hate to say it, but you have no room to be calling me a fat ass when you’re hauling udders around like that,” she drawled, relaxing the grip on her dagger. The nymph gasped. “You bitch!” she growled, running for Izzy. Yay! A fight! Looking from the dagger she’d reflexively armed herself with to the frail nymph, Izzy sheathed it again. It would be more fun to fight the nymph hand-to-hand, which sounded so wrong in her head. Nymphs didn’t fight. They were too busy getting all touchy-feely with their chosen elements. Shrugging, Izzy stormed forward. Going by the red hair, Izzy expected the burning hot hands that grabbed her ponytail. She let the fire nymph get a good grip before she reached back and punched the ever lovin’ shit out of her. Eyes rolling to the back of her head, the nymph fell. Too bad her ass wasn’t as big as her tits. She might’ve landed a little softer.

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Four of the other nymphs skipped over waving their hands as they called their elements. Within seconds, Izzy was drenched in water which quickly froze, and the earth opened up to trap her foot. Laughing with delight, she grabbed one of the water nymphs and threw her into her friends. The girls went down like bowling pins giving Izzy enough time to pull her foot out of the ground before they got to their feet. She ducked as a fireball blasted past her head. It melted the ice on her body, but singed some of her hair. Miffed that her hair wasn’t going to look so great tomorrow, Izzy tossed her dagger at the fire nymph. The hilt hit the nymph’s temple, knocking her out in one shot. Apparently the other nymphs took exception to the casual maneuver because the tiny, hair-pulling, scratching females swarmed her. “Ouch!” Izzy shouted as one of the little botherations pulled her head back by a hank of hair. She didn’t want to kill the women. She didn’t know what they could possibly want with the bull and wouldn’t have bothered them except for one of them calling her a fat ass. So her weight was a sore spot, so what? But she wasn’t going to let the little shits get away with it. No longer playing nice, she threw out her elbow catching one of the women in the throat. The nymph gagged and staggered back. Izzy bitch-slapped another nymph hard enough to knock her out, and greeted the last one with a knee to the face. Her blood rushing through her veins at the excitement of the fight, Izzy looked around for more. Moans, groans, and sniffles from the fallen women punctuated the air. Peering into the night, she could see the last conscious nymph lead the bull from camp. Izzy’s blood raced with exhilaration and a need for battle, which meant that Little Bo Fool was going to lose her bull. Grinning at her own goofiness, she pondered the battered nymphs.

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Grabbing some rope from her SUV, Izzy quickly tied up the unconscious women. Linking them together, she made sure the knots were nice and uncomfortably tight before she snagged her backpack from the Tahoe. She locked her SUV and sauntered after the bull and nymph. Arms swinging in time with the song in her head, she mused over what they could possibly want with a bull. Nymphs weren’t violent and were usually a helluva lot nicer than these had been. Either they were spooked, or they had a damn bad reason for pissing off an Amazon because gods knew that wasn’t something any of the races liked to do. Her only consolation was that they were Veilerians, not human. Otherwise, she’d be up shit creek without a paddle. Again. With the exception of the pained grunts of the bull in the distance, all was quiet. Wyoming was too quiet. Where were all the damn people? She’d even be glad to see humans at this point. What about mosquitoes? It felt weird not having to fight off dog-sized bloodsuckers that could carry off a small child. Shaking the homesick thoughts from her mind, Izzy concentrated on catching up with the nymph and the bull. It didn’t take her long to spot them. The bull was resistant, well, as resistant as he could be considering the little monster was leading him around by his nose. His tail swished angrily and foam dripped from his mouth. Izzy wasn’t a fan of drool, but she did feel sorry for the bull. Sighing, she strapped the pack to her back and secured it. And here she thought she was going to be bored. Not even in camp for four hours and she was already on a rescue mission. Rescuing a cow, but still, it was better than twiddling her thumbs in her car. She stretched her legs and eyed the distance between her and the bull. Yup, she could do it. No problem. She took off running. ****

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Grant grunted, wincing at the pull on his nose ring. The little psycho bitch guiding him slapped his snout. So pissed he was foaming at the mouth, he planned revenge. He’d shave all her hair off, smear her in honey, and leave her for the bear shifters to find. No, that wasn’t good enough. He’d tie her up in a room with his sisters for a week. Their constant drone would kill her. He didn’t know who the bull-ball-eating woman was, but he’d wanted to cheer for her when she kicked the other women’s asses. She’d moved like a whirlwind, and other than one little “ouch” she hadn’t said a word. She was some kind of warrior, no doubt a Veilerian, though he couldn’t remember seeing any female warriors in these parts for years. The nymph muttered something under her breath about plans going awry when sudden weight on Grant’s back made him rear, pulling at the ring the nymph held. He bellowed in pained fury as the little bitch spun around to get a better grip. A long leg appeared, the foot attached to that leg landing in the nymph’s face with a sickening crunch. Grant didn’t care. The pressure on the ring had finally eased and he felt almost normal. Well, except for the long legs wrapped around his back. Heels dug into his sides and long fingers grabbed his horns. “Giddy-up!” His “savior’s” husky voice shouted in his ears. “C’mon, bull! Get up and go! Those little bitches won’t be out for long and as much as it pains me to run from nymphs, I can’t promise they won’t lead you to your doom again.” Grant shook his head, flinging the foam from his mouth and started walking towards his land. The crazy female on his back started singing “Home on the Range” at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t heavy, but he’d never had a woman riding his back…not in bull form anyway. They usually preferred to ride his cock, but he had a feeling this woman had no clue he was a minotaur. Had to be a human woman. A crazy human woman with legs that went straight up to her neck. In spite of his sore nose, he breathed in

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the warm musk of female and roses. It seemed a strange scent for such a wild woman, but he liked it. He shook his head again. No, he wasn’t messing with any women he didn’t know ever again. “Dude, if you don’t stop throwing your slobber at me, I really will castrate you,” she said, her voice filled with menace. Then, she patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, Raging Bull, I won’t cut off your balls.” He almost relaxed. “Unless you piss me off.” She was quiet a moment, and then started talking again. “Those were some crazy bitches, LaMotta. Who knew nymphs could be so bloodthirsty? I mean, I probably just earned myself another year of exile by beating them up, but they were asking for it, weren’t they? You can’t just call another woman fat ass and expect to get away with it. Hell, if Saga had been here, we’d be ankle deep in nymph blood.” Grant lowered his head, trying to make sense of her ramblings. She wasn’t a succubus because although she smelled great, he didn’t feel compelled to bed her. She couldn’t be a shifter because he’d smell her animal on her. She didn’t remind him of the other Veilerian races. He shook his head in thought. “…sucks in the middle of nowhere,” she was saying. The woman sure could talk. “You play ‘Ain’t Gonna Bump No More (With No Big Fat Woman)’ one time and you’re exiled from your tribe for a year. Did I know that’s the song Queen Marina was dancing to when she booty-bumped her mate off a cliff? No, I didn’t know that. Did anyone tell me not to play that song? No! They just assumed I knew,” she muttered, her hands tightening on his horns. “And really, was it my fault that I hit reply all on that e-mail about Chief Snow and his shady past as an exotic dancer? No. It was an accident! Now I’m away from my tribe with a stupid bull who was being led to his slaughter by big-boobed nymphs.” Grant stopped dead in his tracks. Amazon?

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Chapter Three Izzy dug her heels in again, not hard, just enough to tell the bull to keep going. She was surprised he hadn’t bucked her off the instant she sat on his back. He was the most docile bull she’d ever seen. Stupid, she corrected with a pitying look at his horns. He wasn’t docile. He was too stupid to live. Any other self-respecting beast would’ve gored the nymphs before letting them grab his ring. She sighed, patting his big, stupid shoulder. Poor thing was probably just a stud that wandered away from his pasture. But then what had the nymphs wanted with him? They weren’t big meat eaters as far as she knew. Not to the point where they’d go out and catch their own steak. Something wasn’t quite right about those nymphs, but she’d think about it later, after she got the bull back to his pasture. “Is this it?” she asked the bull, looking around with pleased surprise at the picturesque sight. The house in the middle of the valley below was straight out of her dreams. One story of solid wood cabin, it was rustic and perfect. Low to the ground, it would be cool in the summer and easy to heat in the winter. Izzy would have expected the barn to be right next to the house for easy access during the winter, but to her surprise it was far away. She hummed with curiosity. If it had been her land, she would have done the same simply so no one could sneak up on her. Buildings gave enemies cover to hide behind, so moving all structures further away and making the land around your house completely open provided them with nowhere to take cover.

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The bull shook his head again, drawing her attention. “Oh, sorry. You probably want to go on home now,” she murmured, her eyes still on that land. She’d never cared about owning land or her own home. Living with her tribe had been enough for her, but seeing how the Blood Maidens were her eighth tribe in fifty years…yeah, she wasn’t having much luck with the tribal living thing. She sighed as she slid off the bull’s back. She was glad he wasn’t dead, even if he was the dumbest animal she’d ever seen. Slapping him on the hip, she said, “Go on home, stupid, and the next time some sweet-talking nymph comes around maybe you’ll stay away from her.” With one last look at the house, Izzy turned and headed back the way they’d come. Maybe she’d look into property in the area. Maybe it was time to finally go it alone. Maybe Wyoming wasn’t so bad after all. **** Grant watched the Amazon walk away and nearly swallowed his tongue. She had no idea she was being observed by a shifter, so there was no reason for her to walk like that. His heart thudded in his chest. If he had to put music to that walk, it would go something like, boomchicka-boom-chicka-boom. Her hips rolled and her round ass twitched with every step. Without conscious thought, he shifted back to his human shape. Her scent clung to him like a bur, enveloping him in musky rose. His cock went from soft to hard. He wanted that ass. In his human form, the woman was just a few inches shorter than he, which was impressive for a female. Her ponytail bounced with her every step. Her Mae West figure belied her strength, which only made her that much more attractive to him.

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Grant padded after her, impervious to the snow under his bare feet. Her body sent out a mating call, and he definitely planned to answer it. Gods, he was pathetic, he thought as he let his dick point him in her direction. He’d just escaped from a bad situation with this woman’s help and here he was letting his libido lead him astray again. “I think there’s a law somewhere about carrying concealed weapons,” her husky voice said from the shadows of a tree. He saw the glint of metal and knew she’d pulled a knife. He raised his hands in surrender, granting her a smile. “I’m unarmed.” “Uh-huh.” She pointed at his cock with her knife. “And what do you call that?” He looked down and up again. “Mr. Longfellow?” he said helpfully. She snorted back a laugh, her head tilting back in surprise. “So you aren’t dumb.” Grant frowned mightily, feeling anger uncoil in his chest. “Of course I’m not dumb.” “Then why did you let a group of nymphs lead you around by your nose?” Feeling vulnerable standing naked in front of her, Grant crossed his arms over his chest. She acted as though she wasn’t impressed by what she saw, but he knew that had to be an act. Women were always in awe of him and his cock. Always. “We were going to have ourselves a little party,” he shot back with a smile. She took a step forward, coming into the light. Grant swallowed hard. She wasn’t beautiful. Very girl-next-door with large brown eyes, an upturned nose, and full lips, she looked like she should be doing someone’s homework instead of carrying weapons around and kicking ass. Her gaze drifted over his chest which he couldn’t help but puff out for her perusal. When her eyes settled on his cock, Grant felt it swell.

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“Jeez,” she said with a sad sigh. “You really are dumb.” Incensed, he took a step closer. “The hell I am!” She waved her knife at him. “Dude, didn’t it occur to you that nymphs can only have one lover, ever? Why would six women want to have sex with the same male when they’d have to share him for the rest of their lives if he even stuck around?” Oh. Grant scratched the side of his nose. Shit, she was right. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course, all the blood had left his brain when the redhead grabbed his cock through his jeans. He said nothing though. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right. She smirked, her full lips pulling to the side. “It’s okay, you have testosterone poisoning.” She cocked her head to the side. “So why did you let me ride your back?” When her lips formed the words “ride your,” his brain instantly tagged “cock” on the end of it. His body didn’t feel like his own and it was all because of her ass. He’d watched it walk away from him and became spellbound. Hell, he might even be in love with it. He wanted to bite it, wanted to mount and fuck her like the raging bull she’d called him. Sweat broke out along his hairline in spite of the frigid temperatures. He was probably steaming. He shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Because he was an idiot. “What do you think those nymphs wanted?” It was her turn to shrug. “Maybe you stepped on their flowers, or dropped a cow patty in their territory. No telling with those crazy bitches.” Grant almost snorted. She had a lot of nerve calling other women “crazy.” “What are you doing out here?” Her smile disappeared and her lips compressed into a tight line. “I don’t want to talk about it. I have to go.” She spun around and stomped away. “It was nice saving you, Raging Bull. Next time, though, your balls are mine!”

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She was gone in seconds, leaving Grant alone with an erection the size of a baseball bat. Dammit. He stomped to his house, entering through the secret door that led directly to his bedroom. He needed sex and he needed to know who she was and when he would see her again. More importantly, he needed to know what her favorite position was, because he was going to keep her in it for hours. **** Izzy stormed back to the Black Dog Camp, not surprised to see the nymphs long gone. The idiotic minotaur deserved to be castrated, she grumbled as she glared at the lipstick smeared all over her SUV. Her hands fisted. She was going to kill them. Slowly. Snarling, she climbed inside and settled in the backseat. She huddled in her blanket, pouting at the darkness. She hadn’t suspected the bull of being a minotaur, not once. Either she was slacking, or she’d been too distracted by her exile to pay attention. If she’d been on her game, then she might’ve realized there was something off about him. Instead, she’d been downright surprised by him, and she hated surprises. When she’d heard a footstep behind her and whirled around to see a massive man with a small gold ring in his septum, she’d known. Long blond hair had cascaded over his big shoulders, and dark blue eyes had gleamed at her in the darkness. He’d stood in the full moonlight, so she had plenty of opportunity to ogle him without him knowing. He had a face like an angel, the real kind, not a statue. Full, sensual lips that she’d wanted to lick and nibble. A strong nose with flared nostrils, and cheekbones sharp enough to cut, all paired with a massive body made for sex. He was built like a prizefighter with broad shoulders, a heavily muscled chest and arms. Thick thighs that begged to be bitten had framed the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen in her hundred and fifty-one years.

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She chuckled. Mr. Longfellow, indeed! More like Mr. YouWon’t-Walk-the-Next-Morning! He was hung like a…well, like a bull. Izzy snorted. But day-um, the sight of his naked body against the moonlight darkness had left her with a very wet pair of panties. If Rosetta was here, she’d slap Izzy upside the head for thinking about sex when she should be learning “self-control.” Her chicks wanted her back home where she belonged. She didn’t have time for males, beautiful, large dicks or not. Pillowing her head on her backpack, she closed her eyes and did her best to ignore the fire raging in her lower body. As soon as she cleaned the longhouse, she’d find BOB and take care of that particular itch. No man was going to interfere with her returning to her tribe. Oh, hells no.

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Chapter Four Grant groaned as sunlight penetrated his blinds. He really shouldn’t have sat down with that bottle of Wild Turkey last night. It had seemed the perfect way to end a piss-poor evening, but he regretted it this morning. Shifting his limbs sent crushing waves of pain through his head. He didn’t even want to grab his poor skull for fear that it would burst if he touched it. “Green isn’t a good color on you,” a husky voice said, sending shards of agony through his brain. He managed to pry one eye open, squinting into the light to find the smart-ass. She stood leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed and one booted foot crossed in front of the other. In the sunlight, her skin was dusky as though she spent a lot of time outside. She wore a tight T-shirt that molded to her full breasts and a pair of cargo pants that emphasized the curve of her hips. His cock twitched beneath the sheet, drawing her gaze. “Glad to see Mr. Longfellow isn’t bothered by your hangover.” “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” he tried to ask, but the words came out garbled and raspy as though he’d been chewing nails all night. She seemed to understand though. Big brown eyes settled on his face. She could have pulled off the innocent act except for the spark of battle in the dark, coffee-colored depths. “I thought I’d just make sure you didn’t fall in with a gang of pixies on the way home. And I came in through that doorway.” She pointed out the hidden entrance.

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Grant closed his eyes, slumping back against his pillows. She was an Amazon. There was almost no way to keep them out of nonwarded homes. He just hadn’t expected her to come back, especially when he wasn’t at his best. He gave a silent snarl. “Wow, your nostrils flare when you’re pissed,” she said from much closer. The scent of warm woman and roses drifted to him, setting his dick to throbbing. If he hadn’t been in pain, he would’ve grabbed her for a quick wrestle. Grant was pretty sure he could take her, in more ways than one, but at the moment, he’d just be glad if she stopped talking. He grunted at her. “So what’s up with the nose ring anyway? It was bigger when you were a bull,” she commented, flicking the ring. Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt. If anything, it sent a bolt of pure desire through his body, shocking him out of the hangover. His hand snapped out and latched onto her wrist. Grant pulled her into his bed, pinning her beneath him. “I guess you’re finally awake.” She didn’t look the least bit worried. “Yes,” he grunted, feasting his eyes on her mouth. They stared at each other for what seemed like endless minutes. One of her eyebrows shot up and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Well?” “Well, what?” “What’s up with the nose ring?” She spoke slowly as though speaking to someone with limited intelligence. “Minotaurs are pierced when we hit our first transition. Once we bond with our mate, the ring falls out,” he mumbled, leaning down to sniff her. Damn, she smelled delicious. “It also changes size when I shift.” Her eyes sparkled. “That is so cool! Why does it fall out?”

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“The ring helps keep the Minotaur’s Rage from killing anyone. I guess once a minotaur is mated, the gods figure his mate will keep him in line.” “So you’re not mated?” Grant shook his head and instantly regretted it. Okay, so the lust hadn’t healed his hangover, just pushed it to the side for the moment. His stomach rumbled. She squinted at him. “If you puke on me, I’ll rip your spine right through your nose.” His cock twitched at the threat, coming to rest against the apex of her thighs. He groaned at the sensation. She was fully clothed, but he could feel the heat of her sex through the material. “You’re sick,” she said in disgust, pushing him away with disturbing ease. “First you follow some psycho nymphs like a little lamb to the slaughter, and now you’re excited by my threats to kill you.” She hopped off the bed pacing around his room. “It’s got to be the cow thing,” she muttered to herself. “Any animal that stands around chewing on nothing all day can’t be smart. I don’t know why I thought I could help him out. I must’ve lost my mind.” She whirled around to pace in the opposite direction. “It’s the stress. The stress has made me crazy.” Grant stacked his hands behind his head and watched her pace. Why had she come back, he wondered even as he enjoyed the view. Her lush backside jiggled with her every stomp. He wanted to watch that ass jiggle in his lap as she rode him. He grunted. “Stop staring at my ass,” she told him offhandedly. “We have important things to discuss.” “We do?” Grant asked, wondering if she liked vegetarian food. “Yeah, like what those nymphs wanted with you,” she ticked the list off her fingers. “Why you especially? What are they up to? Why are they so aggressive? Do they have car insurance?” “Car insurance?” he asked, dumbfounded.

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“Yeah, the bitches ruined my ride last night while you and I were playing Blazing Saddles.” She paused, waiting for him to respond. “C’mon! You don’t remember the scene with Mongo on the bull?” He shook his head and she threw her hands up. “Get dressed, bull.” Grant watched her stomp out of the room. What a strange female. It was a good thing he only wanted her for one thing. **** Izzy pressed her hand to her chest as soon as she cleared the bedroom door. Holy chastity belt, that man was fine! Even with dark circles under his eyes and a green cast to his face, he was hotter than the incubus she’d been pretending to lust after for the last twenty years. She leaned against the wall. Fallon was the hottest male to grace the Veil and everyone knew it, but even he didn’t have the knee-buckling effect on her this minotaur did. About right, she thought in disgust. She finally falls into true lust and it’s with a dumb-as–a-doorknob bull who couldn’t keep his mind on a conversation. She’d felt him staring at her ass. It’d made her feel self-conscious in a way she hadn’t since she hit puberty. Men did not stare at Isola Malone. They avoided her like the plague, or they tolerated her because of her skills. Hell, even when she fought and won males who owed tribute, she didn’t have sex with them. It was too gross as far as she was concerned. Nope, she put them to work cleaning her tent and weapons, and if her urges got to be too much, BOB was always available. And he didn’t talk or ask stupid questions. Shaking her head to clear it of the lust fogging it, Izzy looked around the big room in front of her. The minotaur’s house was gorgeous. The secret door hadn’t been hard to find, and she’d let herself into the house, surprised to enter his bedroom. She shook her head again. No, think outside the bedroom. Right.

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High rafters sported tapestries depicting minotaurs in battle. She’d never actually met one before, which was probably why she hadn’t pegged him as a shifter. They weren’t as numerous as some of the other races and as far as she knew, they weren’t very sociable. Minotaurs were solitary shifters who preferred their homelands over roaming. Izzy meandered around the great room. She took a deep breath and smiled at the minotaur’s home. The décor was plain and masculine. Deep leather sofas faced the big-screen television. The room had an open floor plan that led off from the minotaur’s bedroom. The kitchen was open with a bar. It was a big house for one man, or woman, but it was welcoming and cozy. Drifting across the room, Izzy went to stand in front of the big picture windows looking out over his land. She had been right; you could see the entire valley from this house. She was amazed, considering she hadn’t pegged him as the brightest bulb in the pack. “So who are you anyway?” The deep rumble of his voice set off an avalanche of lust through her body. She turned around and it took everything she had not to drool. He’d pulled on a pair of jeans and that was it. The damn button wasn’t even done up leaving the patch of skin at the base of his abdomen bare to her hungry eyes. She could see the barest gleam of blond hair and knew the root of his cock was just a centimeter from exposure. She cleared her throat, letting her eyes drift up that twelve-pack belly and the strong, broad chest with a dusting of light blond hair. ZOMG, she thought in heavy lust, he was too sexy to believe. His hair fell around his shoulders in a tangled wave that she wanted to sink her fingers into. “Hey, lady? Who are you?” he asked again, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “Isola Malone,” she introduced herself, staring into the deep wells of his eyes. She was certain she was a puddle of goo at his feet, but he grabbed her hand, shaking it.

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“Grant Strickland.” His eyes twinkled at her. “What are you doing here?” “I played a song I shouldn’t have, forwarded an e-mail I shouldn’t have, and some other stuff they suspect I’ve done but there’s no solid evidence of, so they sent me away to learn ‘self-control,’” she told him using air quotes. “I’m stuck in this hellhole for a year at least. Unless one of the psycho nymphs tells on me, in which case it’ll be longer.” She shrugged at his bemused expression. He shook his head. “I meant why are you in my house this morning?” “Oh! Ha, sorry.” She paused, trying to play it cool. Yeah, she so wasn’t. Saga would kick her ass if she were here. As though the thought of her mentor was a lifeline, she grabbed it and stopped drowning in the blue of his eyes. “Um, right. I remembered something from last night and wanted to know if you’d like to compare notes.” One sleek, golden eyebrow rose. “So you broke into my house, accosted me in my sleep, so we could work together?” Izzy shrugged. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine. The next time you’re carried off by the Lilliputians, I won’t interfere.” Turning, she crossed to the door. It really was none of her business if the man wanted to be some kind of freaky sacrifice for the nymphs. She shouldn’t have even offered to help him considering she was supposed to be laying low for the next year or so. Something grabbed the loop of her pants, pulling her back. Surprised, Izzy allowed the bull to tug her back into the room. “Hold on there, darlin’,” he said, amusement coloring his words. “I didn’t say ‘no.’ I was just makin’ sure I didn’t mistake your intentions.” She slapped his hand away, doing her best to ignore the trail of fire his thumb left on her exposed back. Randy bull! Turning back to him, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. She so wanted to climb him like Mount Everest! He was just delicious. That

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gold ring in his septum taunted her. She wanted to grab it, hold on, and fuck him senseless. Izzy took a big step back. There would be no sex between them. Even if she wasn’t in exile, he hadn’t earned the privilege of getting busy with an Amazon. She snorted at him, ignoring the way his eyebrow rose. No indeed, if anything he’d be put straight to manual labor. No one wanted stupid daughters. “Do you think I have evil plans for your virtue, or something, bull boy?” She scoffed, waving her hand when his mouth opened. “Don’t worry, I won’t ravish you. I want to know what those nymphs were planning to do with you. That’s all. Do we have a deal?” **** Grant glared down at the woman in front of him. Didn’t she know you didn’t challenge a bull for anything? He damned well wanted her to ravish him. Or better yet, they could ravish each other, over and over again until he was too exhausted to move, or hear her endless chatter. Scrubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin, he stared at her. She didn’t budge. A spark of admiration flared to life somewhere inside him. She wasn’t anything like the cow-swans his mother and sisters were always trying to fix him up with. They were all eager to be one of the Strickland Harem, but he didn’t want anything to do with them. Not yet. Not until he was ready to settle down, which wouldn’t be for another twenty or thirty years, or so. In the meantime, he planned to have some fun. Besides, he would like to know what those nymphs were up to. It just wasn’t as important as finding out what this Amazon felt like inside and out. “Sure. You’re welcome to stay here if you want.” She cocked an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Are you sure you trust me not to jump your bones in the middle of the night?”

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He couldn’t resist leaning forward until they were inches apart. “Honey, you’re welcome to jump my bones morning, noon, and night.”

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Chapter Five Hoo, doggie! The man was hot. Barely able to restrain the urge to fan herself, Izzy nodded primly. Saga would be laughing her ass off right about now. There wasn’t a prim bone in Izzy’s body. Normally, if she were attracted to a man she was shameless in her attempts to get his attention, but she was going to show her Amazon sisters she had some self-restraint. “That’s acceptable. It’ll save me fixing up the longhouse back at the Black Dog Camp.” She peered over his shoulder at the house. “You do have more rooms, right?” His sexy mouth curved into a smile so dangerous it got her adrenaline pumping. He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops, those long fingers framing the bulge in his jeans. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist me, sugar?” “Afraid? Ha! I’m not scared of anything, bull boy. If we’re bunking together, I’ll toss my razor so you can feel my prickly legs all night.” Liar! She wouldn’t be able to resist him if they shared a bed, which wasn’t happening anyway, she told herself. She’d sleep on the damn sofa if she had to. He laughed in her face. “You can skip shaving if you think it’ll keep you safe, Isola, but I wouldn’t bet on it.” She gritted her teeth. “Izzy. My name is Izzy,” she snarled. No one called her Isola without risking life and limb. She’d never understood how her mother, one of the most feared Amazons of her time, could have named her only daughter Isola. Like she was some fucking fragile flower or something. It was disgusting.

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Those massive shoulders lifted in a shrug that did interesting things to his chest. Her eyes fell to the mass of flesh in front of her nose and her mouth watered. Short attention span much? She imagined licking every square inch of that skin. He’d probably taste like sweat and man and…no, she was not going there. “I like Isola better,” the stupid man said, turning away from her. “I’ll show you the guest room.” Like a lemming, she followed him across the living room. He showed her to a room right next to his. She’d thought it was a bathroom. Instead, it was a good-sized bedroom—fully furnished. The bed wasn’t as wide as his was, though it certainly was long enough for her. “This is the bathroom.” He opened the door across from the bed. “It connects to my room, so if you need someone to scrub your back, just holler.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Do you share your room with an older, smarter brother?” Her sugar tone was enough to give her cavities. The frown he gave her was priceless, and she mentally gave herself a point. “I don’t have any older brothers.” “Younger, smarter brothers?” “No,” he growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously. She feigned a heavy sigh. “Oh well. I suppose I’ll just have to scrub my own back.” Izzy slapped her hands together. “Well, I’ll just go get my stuff! See ya in a bit!” Beating tracks out the house before the bull could wring her neck she barely made it to her SUV before she started laughing. The look on his face had been just too much. Really, he thought he was going to be able to charm her? Ha! ****

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He watched her laughing to herself as she drove away. She was certifiable. Grant shook his head sadly. Poor deluded female. She thought she was so swift, but little did she know Grant Strickland was the type of male who made goals and fulfilled them. She was his latest goal and he would conquer her. Moseying back into the house, he booted up his computer while he took a shower. He’d better get some work done if he was going to spend time wooing the Amazon. After a shower that took less than ten minutes, he was sitting in front of his laptop reading reports from some of his employees. Strickland Securities was already getting a lot of press in the industry for providing protection for the Ball and they’d had a recent flood of inquiries. The concern for protection was paramount in most Veilerians’ lives, but when you add in the mishmash of different species on the lookout for mates, treaties that needed to be hashed out, and it could get bad. The Ball was where most unions were created, whether they were the romantic kind or the diplomatic kind. His job was to keep everyone calm and safe from any outside attacks. He frowned. His friends with the Veilerian Protection Agency had mentioned things were quiet from the Eturians. He didn’t like how they’d gone off the radar only a month earlier. The bastards were trouble and there was no doubt in Grant’s mind that if the Eturians were quiet, it was only because they had something serious planned. Grant just hoped the “something serious” didn’t happen on his watch. The phone rang, distracting him from reading about an upcoming job. “Strickland.” “Grant Torrance Strickland! Some madwoman almost drove me off the road!” His mother’s strident voice came through the receiver, prompting him to remove it from his ear. He closed his eyes, saying a quick prayer to the gods they could keep this call short. He loved his mother, he truly did, but she was almost as insane as the Amazon he hoped to get into bed.

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“Are you okay?” he asked, knowing his duty even if he also knew how prone to exaggeration she was. She took a deep breath. “No! I was on my way to your house when this madwoman came roaring out of your turnoff and nearly pushed me off the road! Are you okay? Did she attack you? Should I call your Cousin Ricky?” Wincing, Grant banged his head on his desk. “I’m fine, Ma. What was she driving?” Arabella Strickland huffed loudly. “It was a white Tahoe with horrible scribbles all over it. Why, I never saw such a sight in my life! How decent folk are supposed to live with filth like that, I don’t know.” “Where are you?” he cut in before she could give him the “when I was your age” speech. “What? Oh, I’m almost to your house. When are you going to cut down that old tree? It’s dead, you know,” she told him, babbling on and on about the tree while Grant sat in dawning horror. Obviously the woman he was intending to fuck like a randy beast had just had a run-in with his mother, in a literal sense. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. **** Izzy honked at the old biddy crowding the road as she tore around the curve leading from Grant’s house. She flipped her off. Some people had no right driving. Taking up the whole damn road as if they owned it. She had to be crazy, agreeing to stay at the minotaur’s house, but it was as good as place to lay low as any, especially if it meant she didn’t have to repair the longhouse. It wasn’t that she was lazy so much as she liked to conserve her energy for more important things, like plucking her eyebrows, or watching the grass grow.

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Frowning at the deserted road in front of her, Izzy acknowledged that the current decision to move in with the minotaur probably wasn’t what her tribe meant by mending her wild ways. Even if she didn’t plan on sleeping with him, moving into a strange man’s house was a dumb thing to do. She could handle him, she was pretty sure, but what if he started getting ideas? Some men were like that. They thought because you had a vagina, you were put on this Earth to take care of them. She snorted loudly. Grant was so barking up the wrong tree if he thought she was going to cook and clean for him. Everyone knew Izzy was as far from domestic goddess as black was from white. That’s why when she fought for males in the camp she used them to clean her tent. If Grant was looking for a housekeeper, he was sorely mistaken. Roaring into the Black Dog Camp, she looked around before she got out of the car. Something didn’t feel right. Izzy slipped her dagger from the sheath and waited, listening closely for any telltale signs of attack. The weak morning sun shone down on her. She repressed a shiver as the cold swept right through her clothes. She fucking hated winter. Snow crunched to her left. Dropping to a knee, she flung her dagger at the sound. Vicious Cajun French met her ears. Aw hell. She got to her feet. She’d just stabbed Fallon. “La femme fole!” he swore as he pulled the dagger out of his shoulder. “Why I listen to your friends when they cry to me, I don’t know.” He threw the superior weaponry on the ground, the tip buried in the snow. He glared at her. “They say, ‘Oh, Fallon! She’s probably so sad. You’re the only one who can make her feel better. Just go visit her’ and what happens? You stab me!” Izzy shuffled her feet. She felt horrible. Fallon was a great friend now that she knew she didn’t want him sexually. “I’m sorry,” she

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mumbled. “I thought you were one of the nymphs come back to finish me off.” “Nymphs? You’re crazy. Nymphs don’t attack, fouine,” he told her patiently. He scrubbed a hand over his handsome face, looking tired and beat. “What’s wrong, Fallon?” Izzy asked in sudden concern. She’d never seen him look so exhausted before. Usually, the incubus sparkled like a diamond, but today he looked wan and pale. He shook his head, his sun-streaked hair flopping over his forehead. “It is nothing.” He took a deep breath. “So, you don’t give your friends a hug anymore?” She smiled, crossing the camp to do just that. Enfolded in his arms, she almost felt like she was with her tribe again. The damn burning in her eyes started again and she swallowed a sniffle. She was not weak. She’d survived without a tribe of her own for years, one year without them was nothing. “What’s wrong with your car, fouine?” His eyes were on the obscene messages scrawled across it from front to end. “It’s a long story, help me pack up the car and I’ll tell you,” she told him with a grin. Fallon would probably regret listening to her friends after he found out what she was up to, but hopefully he’d stick around. He’d be a wonderful buffer between her and the bull man she would be working with. Two hours later, they were on the way back to Grant’s house and Fallon still wouldn’t believe about the killer nymphs. “Impossible,” he told her in no uncertain terms. “Nymphs are not violent, and they do not steal bulls. Did you maybe insult them first? Or maybe hurt one of their elements?” He paused, frowning at the landscape. He shivered and muttered something in French. “This is a horrible place. So cold.” “I didn’t do anything to those psychotic witches,” Izzy mumbled for the millionth time. “Why do y’all always think it’s my fault when

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I’m attacked?” She frowned, remembering the night before. She shook her head. “Nope. I didn’t do anything. She called me a fat ass. I can’t have that, Fallon. If I let one nymph get away with it, it’ll end up my inter-Tribal nickname. You know, Izzy “The Fat Ass” Malone. You know how these things work.” He was shaking his head at her with a smile. “You already have a nickname, Izzy.” Glancing at him out the corner of her eye, she saw his smile grow. Bastard was about to piss her off, she just knew it. Her hands gripped the steering wheel. She had to control her temper. She chanted, “Selfcontrol, self-control, self-control” in her head while waiting for it. She’d just stopped the car in front of Grant’s house when he spoke again. “They call you Izzy the Insane,” he said with a smirk. She turned off the engine and they sat quietly staring at Grant’s house. Then she launched herself across the cab. The sly incubus opened the door so they fell out of the SUV. Not really wanting to hurt him, she went for his hair. The crazy incubus laughed hysterically, grabbing handfuls of snow and shoving it in her face. She screeched at the cold, her hands curling into fists. They rolled across the yard, locked together in mock battle. Izzy was having the time of her life. It wasn’t often she had a chance to tussle with Fallon. He was always too urbane and put together to get involved in scuffles, but he was doing an admirable job of keeping her from hurting him. “Gods, Grant, they’re killing each other! I’m calling Ricky,” a woman’s voice screeched from somewhere nearby. “I’m sure that isn’t necessary, Ma.” Grant’s rumbling bass sent a quiver through Izzy’s body. He sounded…pissed off. Obviously the woman ignored him because she heard the woman say, “Ricky? It’s Aunt Bella. There are two…predators in front of

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Grant’s house fighting. I think they’re fighting over who’ll eat us. You need to come out here, now.” Izzy looked at Fallon, whose eyes were wide in surprise. “Predators?” he whispered, a laugh building in his eyes. “Wow, Fallon, all this fighting made me hungry.” She made sure to project her voice. What kind of stupid cow couldn’t tell the difference between an Amazon and an incubus and predators? Well, Izzy mused, she was partly correct. They were predators, but they didn’t eat people. Hells, they didn’t even eat humans. “Grant! Get in the house!” The woman screeched, panic clear in her voice. “They aren’t predators, Ma,” his voice closer, “although if she wants to make a meal out of me, she’s more than welcome to.” Fallon’s eyes went from wide to the size of half-dollars. “Is that the couillon taureau you were telling me about, Izzy?” he asked, trying to peer around her head. “Shut up.” She pushed off of him with her elbows and knees. He grunted as she pressed her full weight on his chest. He deserved it, the nosy bastard. “Hey, bull boy, what’s for dinner?”

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Chapter Six There was a red haze in front of his face. Grant swiped at it with his hand, but it remained. He could barely see Isola through it, but the man who’d been mauling her, he saw perfectly well. The man she kept calling Fallon had had his hands all over Isola’s lush body as they rolled on the ground. Now her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, and she had a sparkle in her eyes that had him in a killing rage. “Grant! Come away from those monsters this instant!” his mother screamed at him from the doorway. He’d just been about to send her home when Isola’s car had pulled up and she’d fallen out of it with another man. He’d watched them fight and knew it wasn’t serious. It was play. Foreplay, if he had to guess. And it seriously pissed him off. Isola’s eyes peered over his shoulder at his mother. “Is she joining us for dinner?” The devil he knew her to be sparkled in her eyes. Arabella screeched and the door slammed. Grant didn’t pay any attention to it. No, his entire focus was on the male standing behind Isola. He was almost as tall as Grant, but leanly built. He was also too fucking pretty to be real, Grant thought as the red haze deepened. His hands clenched into fists. This…Fallon wouldn’t be pretty for long. Gently lifting Isola and setting her off to the side, he started for the interloper with the single-minded purpose that had marked his whole life. “Izzy? Why is couillon taureau looking at me like that?” the male asked with a remarkable lack of fear.

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If Grant hadn’t been in the rage, he probably would’ve admired the man’s balls, but as it was, he just wanted to rip them off. The man smiled, and that was all it took to send Grant into the Minotaur’s Rage. **** Izzy blinked at the bull that picked her up and put her to the side as though she were fragile. What the fuck was with that, she wondered as she watched him approach Fallon. There was something weird about the way Grant was acting, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. It wasn’t as though she had much experience with minotaurs, and she didn’t know Grant very well, so she couldn’t say how balanced he was. The way he was acting sort of reminded her of one of her Amazon sisters when she was warning off females from her mate. She blinked again. Was the stupid male jealous? She gaped at him as he launched himself at Fallon. “Holy shit! Don’t hit him in the face!” she shouted as the bull tackled her friend to the ground. She winced when one of Grant’s massive fists met Fallon’s breadbasket. The incubus’s breath left him in a loud whoosh. Fallon wasn’t going to let him get away with that, she thought a split second before the incubus rolled the minotaur over and began pounding away at him. Izzy’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t help it. She’d never seen Fallon whale on someone before, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. The man needed to learn to follow through with his punches. Grant’s big legs bunched as he used them to flip Fallon off of him. Izzy’s nipples tightened. This time she did fan herself. That man was sexy with a capital S, she thought, licking her lips. He grabbed a fistful of Fallon’s hair with one hand and reared back with the other.

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“No!” She ran towards the brawling men. “You can’t punch him in the face.” She grabbed Grant’s fist, pulling on it with all of her might. Son of a bitch, he was strong! She panted. “You can’t punch him in the face, bull boy. I like his face!” Grant shook his hand trying to free it from Izzy’s hold, but she clung like a limpet. His face was red, and a vein in his forehead pulsed with his heartbeat. His blue eyes were fully black with no whites showing. If she had been any other type of female, she probably would’ve peed her pants. Instead, she found him even sexier than she had before. Hubba, hubba! “Izzy, get him off of me before I do something we’ll both regret,” Fallon gritted out, his silver eyes gleaming. Get him off of Fallon? How in the nine hells could she do that? The only reason the bull hadn’t hurt Fallon already was because she was hanging off of his arm like a jacket. A very sexy, kick-ass jacket, but not very effectual. Then, she remembered what Grant told her earlier. Without second thought, she grabbed the ring going through his septum. The instant her fingers touched it, she felt as though she were singed. A jolt of pure fire shot up her arm, through her body. Holy cow—bull. **** The haze left Grant’s eyes in a rush. It felt like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket from the rush of power that ran through his body. He shook, his head going back as the charge slammed into his groin. Fuck! What was happening? “You get your hands off of my boy, you harlot!” a high-pitched voice screeched. “Ow! Lady, stop hitting me with your shoe or I’ll shove it up your ass…sideways!” Izzy shouted back. Her hand left his ring and the sensation passed. Grant blinked rapidly, letting go of the male. He felt a bit woozy, as though he’d

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taken a two-by-four to the head. Trying to remember the fight, he was pretty sure the pretty boy hadn’t got a single lick in. His head snapped back as the male punched him in the eye. Damn. “Oh, don’t you hit my boy!” his mother shouted. “Animals in my baby’s yard. I hope Ricky locks you both away! Decent folk can’t— can’t—″ Her voice died away. Grant heard her sigh softly, almost dreamily. His eyes popped open to see his mother gazing at the other male like a lovesick calf. She dropped the shoe she’d been beating Isola with on the ground and approached Fallon on light toes. “Well, hello handsome,” she cooed up at pretty boy. “What the fuck did you do to my mom?” “Easy, Rawhide, he’s an incubus. He’s just making sure she doesn’t go at him with her shoes like she did me.” She rubbed her head all the while glaring at Arabella. “I hope she shifts so I can shoot her and put her fat ass on the grill.” Grant took a better look at the Amazon now that the red had faded from his eyes. Her eyes were wide and wary and the tips of her fingers were blackened. “You touched me when I was in a Minotaur’s Rage,” he told her needlessly. She had to have known she was putting her life in danger, yet she’d done it anyway. She was either stupid or brave. He was opting for brave, but you just never knew with some women. “What made you do that?” She shrugged and wiped her black fingers on her pants. “You said it was the only way to control you during a rage, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.” Her eyes studied her stained fingers. “So what’s this then? Some kind of bad-ass booger? Why are my fingers black?” Arabella snapped out of the sensual daze the incubus had put her in, looking between Isola and Grant. Her big blue eyes rounded. The horror etched into her round face made Grant sick to his stomach. “Ma? What is it?” He reached for her.

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“It can’t be.” She shook her head, backing away from him. “No, no, no! Not my baby! Not…her!” she screamed, pointing at Isola who looked just as lost as he felt. “Not her what, Ma?” He frowned. Female bovine shifters, or cowswans, were protective beyond belief. They would shift and kill to protect their young, but Grant was a grown minotaur and no longer needed that protection. His mother knew that and she’d never reacted this way before, so he didn’t understand it. He watched as she pressed her shaky hands to her mouth. Her whisper was barely heard above the sirens of an approaching police car. “Mates.”

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Chapter Seven “Let’s just calm down now,” a deep voice said as Izzy went for the cow’s throat. She couldn’t believe the old biddy had dared to say such a thing about her. Mates, indeed! If it wasn’t so scary, Izzy would have laughed, but the shock of recognition on Grant’s face had sent her spiraling into a full-scale panic attack. And when Izzy panicked, she hurt people. Grant’s mother, since it was apparent they were related by the deep blue eyes, was built solidly. She wasn’t tall, but she had the kind of build that only came from corn-fed, country living. Her steel-gray hair was curled within an inch of its life, but had not one strand out of place. She had softly rounded cheeks and a little rosebud of a mouth. Wearing a respectable floral dress, she looked like she should be playing the organ in a church instead of hitting innocent people with shoes and throwing the word “mate” around. Izzy almost hated to hurt her. Just as her hands touched the cow-swan’s soft throat, she was yanked back. Snarling, she turned on Grant. It was his damn fault anyway, he should suffer. Using one of her favorite moves, she hooked her foot behind his knee and jerked. Predictably, his knee buckled and he fell to the ground with a grunt. She grabbed a handful of his thick, beautiful blond hair and tugged his head back. She was going to break his perfect nose, she thought. Then, she was going to rip that damn ring right out of it.

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“Now, now, missy, you don’t want to do that,” the deep voice chided before she was plucked off her feet yet again. “You damn people need to stop picking me up like a suitcase!” she shouted, kicking her feet to get free. “I’m going to kick all of your asses!” “Izzy, ma fouine, don’t ah, kick the officer.” Fallon’s voice was lazy and amused. The asshole. Cop? A cop…shit. She went limp in his hold. If Queen Albreda heard about her going ape-shit on a couple of cows and then attacking an officer of the human law, Izzy would be out of the tribe so fast her hair would smoke. The first rule every Veilerian member learned was never to trouble humans. It was a cardinal rule and those who broke it were in for a world of hurt. “Now, why don’t we all calm down,” the deep voice rumbled again as Izzy was set on her feet several yards away from Grant and his mother. Izzy kept her head down, trying to look contrite. It usually worked on human males. Even with her great height, they tended to go easier on a woman who looked helpless. So instead of looking up at the man, she stared at his feet. His gigantic feet. She frowned. He had feet that probably required separate seating on public transport. “What seems to be the problem here, Aunt Bella?” The cop’s voice was steady and soothing, but something in it set Izzy on edge. The cow started talking, but Izzy ignored her. There was something about this cop that made her Spidey senses tingle. Her eyes traveled up the very long length of his legs. He was freakishly tall, she thought with a gulp. She squeezed her eyes closed. This was no human cop. Her stomach soured and her head began to spin. No, please, not a bear. Please, please, not a bear, she chanted in her head. “Is this true, miss?” There was no help for it now. She had to look at him. Her gaze followed the center line of his uniform—pale blue polyester that would’ve made Rosetta vomit in her mouth. His chest was bigger than

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the bull’s, thicker and much more muscular. Shoulders blocked out the sky leading to a neck she knew was too thick for her hands to wrap around. He had a neatly trimmed beard the color of earth. Beneath that beard though, he was an attractive male. Sharp cheekbones, similar to Grant’s, eased into lean cheeks and a full mouth. Deep brown, nearly black eyes, twinkled with humor, but Izzy was a far cry from laughing. The thick hair on his head was like a pelt of fur, the same dark color of rich soil. But it was all the confirmation she needed. He was a bear and closely resembled her old lover. “Miss? Can you tell me what happened?” Izzy’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell right at his feet. **** Grant scooped the Amazon into his arms and strode into his house. “What the fuck did you do to her, Ricky?” His mother trailed behind him, shooting sultry looks at the incubus while Ricky brought up the rear. Once inside, Grant crossed to the sofa, laying Isola on it. Her face was pale as snow, her breathing shallow. He smoothed the hair from her cheeks, not sure how to help her. He’d never seen an Amazon faint before. They were the fiercest Veilerian females, they weren’t scared of anything, but Isola had dropped at Ricky’s feet like someone had pulled her spine right out of her back. “I didn’t do anything, cuz,” Ricky drawled, leaning over the back of the sofa to look down at the woman. He squinted at her. “She’s cute. Are you keeping her?” “He is not!” Arabella squeaked, pushing between them to force Grant away from Isola. “She is not staying here. She doesn’t belong here, Grant.” He frowned at his mother, not sure what her problem was. She should be thrilled the Amazon might be his mate. Hell, that had been

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a shocker for sure, he thought with another glance at Isola. But it did explain the reaction he’d had to her touching his ring. He’d had the ring tugged during fights, during sex, even brushed by some of the sexiest women he’d ever met, but never had he felt as though his body was a lightning rod from a simple touch on the gold. “Your mère is correct, taureau, Izzy does not belong here. She is only staying for a little while then she will go home to her family.” The French-accented voice reminded him of the incubus. “And what the hell are you doing here anyway?” The male shrugged. “Mais, I am Izzy’s friend. Her family sent me to check on her.” “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Ricky said in full cop mode. If there was anyone in the world Grant could trust to keep things calm, it was Ricky Davis. A Kodiak bear related to the Strickland family through some very convoluted lines, he’d settled in Eustis, Wyoming when his family kicked him out of Alaska for being too passive. The Stricklands had accepted Ricky with open arms, voted him sheriff of their small town, and let him handle most of the problems that came through. He was good at his job and the best at handling difficult people. Grant looked down at Isola. Maybe Ricky was too good at his job if this is what he could do to an Amazon. “I’m Fallon Plaisance, Master of the Louisiana Sin Den,” he said mildly, bowing to Ricky and Arabella. Grant seethed. Fallon wasn’t just an incubus, he was a fucking Master, which meant he had more power in his little pinky than some backwoods minotaur had in his whole body. Oh, sure, incubi weren’t known for being fighters, but they had connections with some of the most powerful people from every walk of life, and a Master incubus would have even more. “And what are you doing with this young lady?” Ricky acted as though it was normal to meet incubi Masters every day.

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“This is Isola Malone of the Blood Maiden Tribe.” He moved closer to the sofa and Isola. “She is a close friend of Queen Albreda, Lineage Chieftain Ruby Blue, and several High Council members. She is here for…comment faites-vous pour dire, a time-out?” He smiled and Arabella sighed. “She is impulsive, our Izzy is. She was sent to the Black Dog Camp to meditate on her behavior and learn control.” “And you were sent here to check on her?” Ricky asked smoothly. Grant blinked down at the female on his sofa and saw trouble. Sexy trouble, but trouble nonetheless. She was a close friend of an Amazon Queen and some of the most powerful beings in the Veil. Everyone in the Veil knew you didn’t mess with any of the Amazon Queens. They were unpredictable and violent. And their tribes were barred from living within any city limit inside the continental United States. He scrubbed a hand over his face. As much trouble as she could bring to his door, that didn’t change the fact that his ring recognized her. It still tingled and it hadn’t fallen out yet, but he knew she was his mate. And by the way she’d reacted to his mother’s words, it wasn’t something Isola wanted. Damn it to the nine hells, he thought with a grimace. She moaned. The soft, breathy sound sent blood straight to his cock which swelled. His mind instantly bombarded him with images of her making those sounds while he rode her hard, or she rode him hard. He didn’t care. “Why did she pass out?” Grant moved to sit next to her on the sofa. He wanted to be the first person she saw when she came to. The last person he wanted her to see was Fallon. He sensed the incubus’s confusion. “I do not know. I have never seen her faint before.” There was concern in the Cajun’s voice. Ricky watched Isola coming out of the faint. “I think it was a panic attack.” The Cajun shrugged. “Faint, panic attack, it’s the same thing, yes?”

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Grant supposed he couldn’t begrudge the incubus for worrying about his friend, but only so long as that concern didn’t extend any further. He wouldn’t tolerate any male laying a hand on her again, something she’d best get used to quick. “Isola,” he said softly, tapping her cheek. In her faint, her face was relaxed, younger looking, and so godsdamned beautiful, he wanted to lock her away. He was surprised by his feelings. Minotaurs were not possessive, not really. It was hard to become possessive when they had to service a harem of cow-swans, but with Isola he felt as though he would kill anyone for even looking at her. “Bears,” she moaned, her eyelashes fluttering. “Fucking bears all over the place with bad breath and big paws.” Grant looked up at Ricky, whose eyebrows arched high on his forehead. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face at Ricky’s offended expression. He looked back at the crazy woman coming out of her faint. “You need to wake up, Isola.” He didn’t know what her problem with bears was, but he would fix it. She needed to get along with Ricky since he was Grant’s best friend. Her eyes opened and just as Grant wanted, they landed on him. He smiled again, watching as awareness crept into the coffee-brown depths. This was his mate, he thought in wonder. He understood she probably wasn’t a big fan of men and wouldn’t be happy having a minotaur as a mate, but she could get over that. What they could have together was enough to fight for if she was of a like mind. Grant knew he’d have to work hard to get her to see things his way and good thing he was a goal-orientated bull, because he could do it. What he didn’t understand was the sudden anger that flared to life in her eyes, and he would’ve asked her about it if her fist hadn’t found its way into his nose. ****

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Izzy didn’t know how she came to be inside and at this moment, she could give a rat’s ass. When she saw the soft glow in Grant’s eyes, anger mingled with panic swept through her again. The bastard was planning. She could just about see the wheels turning in his fat head! He probably already had her decked out in nothing but a pair of heels and an apron fixing his dinner. So she did what any self-respecting Amazon did when confronted by an arrogant man. She punched him. His hands immediately covered his nose as he bent over her with a curse. The movement revealed the rest of the room. Fallon looked down at her with affectionate indulgence, the cow bitch cried out with anger at the blood spewing from her son’s nose. Her blue eyes promised retribution, but Izzy was past caring. Then her gaze lit upon the bear. Blackness threatened to swarm over her again. Fuck no, she thought, pushing it back. He was just a bear. A big, smelly, mauling beast with paws the size of her head. She shuddered, avoiding the bear’s eyes. She loathed bears to bottom of her soul. They were part of the reason she’d become a nomadic Amazon. Ruthlessly pushing those unwelcome memories to the side, she sat up. Shoving the bull off the sofa, she got to her feet although she made sure to keep the bear in sight. Never turn your back on a bear. That lesson had been drilled into her brain and carved into her skin. “What the hell is going on here?” Her eyes darted between Fallon, the cow bitch, and Grant, who glared at her over his hands. “Well now, that’s what we’re trying to figure out, missy. Mind telling me why you were attacking my Aunt Bella?” Yes she did mind, but she wasn’t going to get into a pissing contest with a bear. Especially not a bear who was also a cop and capable of locking her up where she’d have to look at him.

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Izzy shrugged, taking a step away from them. It was a barely noticeable movement, but Fallon’s eyes narrowed on her like laser beams. “She said something I didn’t want to hear.” “And that’s just cause to attack someone?” the bear growled, impatience coloring his tone. “It is after she tried to beat the shit out of me with her shoes,” Izzy shot back, anger finally overriding the panic. “I was trying to keep her son from killing my friend and she started hitting me. Then she pissed me off when she said…she said…that.” She couldn’t even say the word, her stomach churning at the thought. The cow’s chest swelled up with indignation. “You were touching my son where only a mate should! I have a mother’s right to protect my child.” “Don’t you think it’s time you cut the umbilical cord, lady?” “Well, I never!” Arabella said, looking to her son for help. “Exactly, you never cut the apron strings,” Izzy told her brutally. “Your son is old enough to do whatever the fuck he wants without your interference. If you’d stop chewing your cud once in a while and think about it, you’d realize I’m right.” Izzy refused to be cut off at the knees by the wounded look in the cow’s eyes. Bella was only causing more trouble for her son by being overprotective. Yet again, another memory threatened to resurface, but Izzy fought past it. She didn’t have time for this shit. “Are we finished here?” she demanded of the bear without looking at him. He studied her for so long, she started feeling sick again. “Not quite. Mind telling me what my aunt said that you didn’t like?” “I wish you’d stop asking me if I mind telling you shit when it really means I have to tell you,” Izzy mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “She said ah, I was her son’s mate, which is a complete fucking lie. First off, I eat beef, I don’t mate it, and secondly, I’ve taken a vow of chastity.”

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Okay, so that last one had been sort of a lie, but she was desperate to get her point across. She’d taken a vow never to sleep with another shapeshifter, which left the rest of the yummy men in the Veil for her to look over. Unfortunately, she saw Grant’s eyes go from amused to challenging. Aw, fuck.

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Chapter Eight Grant went from hot to cold to hot again in the time it took for Ricky to lead Arabella out of the house with the promise he’d stop by later. The incubus looked just as dumbfounded, his eyes going back and forth between Isola and Grant as though looking for the intangible link that caused a mating. Grant knew it was there, he could feel it and he knew Isola could feel it as well. He fumed silently, staring her down as she stood there looking composed. Her vow was a lie, but he wouldn’t call her on it. Oh no, it would be much more fun to make her break it. “Izzy?” Fallon asked, breaking the silence. “Cher, you um, took a vow?” He sounded skeptical, so Grant felt a little better. He leaned closer to hiss in her ear. “What about those satyrs a couple of months ago?” Her gamine little face screwed up into a frown that should’ve made her look fierce, but only managed to look charming. She wiped her hands on her pants then fidgeted with one of the grommets. She cleared her throat. “Nothing uh, happened.” Fallon snorted and she frowned up at him. “I kicked their asses and sent them on their way.” “You respond to my enchantment,” the soon-to-be-dead incubus insisted. “If you had taken a vow, you wouldn’t have become aroused.” Grant’s hands clenched into hard fists. The bastard was aching for a beat down.

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Her cheeks were bright red. “Um, it’s a recent vow,” she mumbled. “This year is going to be my first test.” Grant watched her eyes shift to the left. He smiled. She was lying her cute little ass off! “That’s too bad,” Grant said, drawing her gaze to his face. What she saw obviously upset her because her face darkened into a scowl that could peel paint. “You’re gonna fail, baby girl.” Isola glared at him, her hands curling into fists. “You arrogant…ass…bull, whatever! My vow is sacred. I’m going to apply to the Virgin Guard when I get back home.” Grant took that hit like a knife to the heart. If she wasn’t lying, oh gods, she’d be out of his reach. The Amazon Virgin Guard was about as untouchable as a Veilerian could get. They sacrificed their femininity to become the most lethal warriors in any dimension. They were the women ancient Greeks wrote about who cut off their breasts to fight better. Grant stared at her chest. He’d lock her up before he let anything happen to those succulent peaches. Plans came to mind, ways to romance her. Grant calmed a bit. If he had a plan, he would find a way to win her. “Take that damned look off your face!” Isola screeched at him. She sounded a bit like his mother when she did that, he thought with smug surprise. “Izzy, Isola,” Fallon soothed, raising his hands in a placating gesture as he approached her. “Fouine, calm down. What look is the bull making at you?” Fallon looked at Grant. He shrugged. “I think this is just a face he has, yes? He is not very attractive, but he can’t help that.” Isola shrugged off her friend’s hands, her eyes shooting arrows right at Grant. “No, Fallon. He’s scheming. I can tell. He’s got some fucked-up plan just because his mother thinks I’m his mate,” she snarled. Then she paused. “And he is too attractive. He’s very sexy.” She said it grudgingly as though she didn’t want to concede that much, but Grant would take it gladly. Now if he could manage to hide his intentions, she’d never know what hit her.

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“I don’t know what you mean, Isola, I’m just thinking that your friend may be able to help us with the killer nymph problem,” he said mildly. Fallon cursed heartily. “There is no such thing as killer nymphs. I have told Isola this and now I’m telling you! Nymphs do not attack for any reason.” Grant shrugged glad to see the ire in Isola’s eyes fading to indignation at her friend’s stubbornness. “I just know what I saw. The nymphs lured me out of a bar in town and then grabbed my ring to bring me to someone they called Master Ormond.” A stillness came over Fallon and Isola as though a demon had just entered the room. Not liking their reaction, Grant tried to remember if he remembered anything else from that night. He didn’t. There were so many masters in the Veilerian, it was almost impossible to keep track of which faction used the term. “What do you know?” he finally asked when he drew a blank. **** Isola shared a guarded look with Fallon. She wasn’t sure how much to tell Grant. If the Master who wanted him was Ormond Steele, then the minotaur was in more trouble than she could help him with. She was glad he finally changed the subject though, even if it was to something more dangerous, so much the better. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her possible ascension to the Virgin Guard. Problem was, now she didn’t now know how much information to share. Ormond Steele was frequently called master, or the Overlord, by those who served in the Eturian army. It was only recently that the High Council and Veilerian Protection Agency had learned who the Overlord was. With the defection of one of the Eturians’ top generals, Malachi Cromwell, and one of their most deadly assassins, Noelani

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Fayard, the Veil now knew who they were up against. Although it hadn’t helped much since Ormond had vanished from sight. Izzy had seen the bastard herself when she and Malachi had rescued Noelani from Ormond’s master general. She’d burned the general’s house down—and had the burn marks on her ass as a souvenir. The VPA and High Council had cautioned Izzy’s tribe not to stir the waters too much, they wanted to catch Ormond red-handed and give him a fair trial. Probably because they knew the Amazons would take matters into their own hands. Izzy’s fingers twitched. Yeah, she’d love to tear into the Eturians personally. Those bastards had been tormenting her friends and people she considered family for years. Nearly everyone in her life had been touched by violence at the hands of the Eturians. The way she figured, payback was a bitch named Izzy. That was part of the reason she was in Wyoming. She’d been chomping at the bit to destroy Steele. Izzy growled. She hated bullies and that’s exactly what the Eturians were, picking on the innocent and helpless. Not that Grant was either, but he wasn’t as equipped to deal with the Eturians as a band of hardened Amazon warriors. Fallon touched her arm gently. Izzy forced a smile. Ormond had gotten away last time. He’d turn tail and run the minute he’d seen Luther’s house on fire. Her hand brushed the burn marks on her ass. She hadn’t gone out looking for him because her queen had asked it of her. But this time though, it looked as though she’d fallen right in the path of Ormond Steele’s next victim. She wouldn’t let him get away again. “Well?” he asked, looking from Izzy to Fallon and back again. Fallon rubbed the back of his neck, his face indecisive. “We can’t say,” Izzy finally told him. “We’d have to find out who the nymphs were planning to take you to before we could tell you anything.” Grant’s eyes flared with anger. She understood why. She’d want to know exactly what was going on as well, but it wasn’t their secret.

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It was the Council’s, and they could put Izzy and Fallon behind bars for centuries if either of them divulged that information without clearance. “I’m sorry, we can’t tell you.” She frowned. She really was sorry she couldn’t tell him. Well what do you know, she thought absently. “Let me contact a few people, find out what they know of this area and how much we can tell you.” “She’s correct, taureau, we cannot say anything yet, but we will help you,” Fallon promised, earning a smile from Izzy. She knew she could count on him. Grant’s face was impassive, but his eyes never wavered from Izzy’s face. “I don’t have room for another person so you’ll have to stay somewhere else, Plaisance.” His eyes warned her he hadn’t given up on finding out what was going on. “I’ll accept this for the time being, but the minute anyone is in danger, I don’t give a fuck who you talk to, I’m going to want answers.” Izzy nodded. “I understand, and we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” she promised. She looked at Fallon. “Do you want to try talking to you-know-who, or find the nymphs?” Fallon shrugged. “I will speak with the powers that be. You are a better tracker than I am,” he told her with a smile that she returned. “I’ll be back as soon as I find anything out.” He turned to leave, stopping at the door. “Fouine, do you wish to send a message to your sisters?” A shock ran through Izzy’s body. She hadn’t even thought of her sisters. Her eyes met Grant’s and she knew why. The damn bull was distracting her. She just wasn’t sure what she could do about it. “Yes, I have messages.” She gave Grant a wary look. “I’ll tell you outside.” ****

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Grant watched Isola slip out of his house with the incubus. He couldn’t put a name to the look on her face, but it hadn’t been nice. Something bigger than his mother’s words and the killer nymphs was bothering her. He hoped it was him, but with that crazy woman, he couldn’t be sure. Sighing loudly, he picked up the phone. He’d have to call in his assistant, Iris, to catch his slack at the office because it seemed that he’d wandered into a problem bigger than the Ball. His fingers paused over the number pad. That might be the connection they needed to look into, he thought. Everyone of importance in the Veil went to the Ball, that’s why security had to be top-notch. He put the phone down again. He’d talk with Isola about it and see what she thought before he made any big decisions. He headed to the kitchen. His stomach was growling, and if Isola was as hungry as he was, she’d want food. While he whipped up a massive vegetarian omelet, he thought of all the things he needed to do. He’d have to call his mom and make sure she was fine. She’d seemed shaken up by Isola’s accusations, but he wouldn’t contradict the Amazon. She was absolutely right. He filled a skillet with a whole bag of hash browns. He needed to talk to Ricky, bring him into the killer nymph loop. He chuckled as he threw some vegetables in the omelet. This wasn’t exactly the best way to woo a female, but it appeared to be the way he would win her over. Killer nymphs, overprotective mothers, and bears. Yup, he sure knew how to romance the ladies. **** “I don’t see why Albreda won’t let me call,” Izzy complained as she followed Fallon further away from Grant’s house. This was turning into the most fucked-up morning she’d had in a while. And that included that day she’d awakened fully clothed with four

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comatose satyrs in her tent with no idea how they got there. The cuts and bruises on their faces had been enough to tell her they hadn’t been invited. She shrugged. “It isn’t like I’m going to lead Rosetta and Saga into temptation or anything.” Fallon said nothing, though the look he gave her told her plenty. Izzy kicked at a clump of snow. Right, she did tend to drag others into trouble, but that was only because trouble was so easy to find! Didn’t anyone understand that she needed to be in the thick of things, to know what was going on? So her judgment needed a little improving, so what? She was capable of facing anything on her own—she’d proved that to herself and others over the last hundred years. “When did you decide to join the Guard, fouine?” She winced. It was bad enough to know that her tribe wanted her out of their hair, but for her queen to suggest such an extreme change…it was disheartening. She hadn’t given much thought to it at the time and she would’ve never thought she’d entertain the notion, but now she wondered if it wouldn’t be the best thing for her. The Guard was revered among the Amazons. They were the best of the best. It would be an honor to join them. Even if it was something she hadn’t thought she wanted. It was something to think about. “I um, haven’t made my mind up yet,” she finally said, stepping away from him. She wasn’t immune to him, and his scent was like the finest chocolate just begging her to take a bite. “Queen Albreda mentioned it before I left home. I guess she thought I needed something to focus on.” His lean fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her to a stop. “Don’t do anything foolish, Izzy.” He waved his free hand at the house. “This taureau, he scares you. Don’t make a decision based on that fear.” She twisted her face into a grimace of distaste. Yes okay, she was scared of the bull. The bastard drew her more than one of the strongest incubi did. What kind of Amazon would she be if she just

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rolled over for him? He’d have her bound and locked in lustful servitude before she could say “orgasm.” Fallon must’ve read her answer in her face because he sighed. “I do not like this, fouine. One such as you, you are not meant for that kind of life. The Guard…they are powerful, yes, but they have no”— he waved his hand—“joy of life.” He smiled down at her. “You are like the sun, yes? You burn bright and make others happy. It would be a shame to see that light extinguished.” Izzy stared up at Fallon. He saw her as someone filled with joy? Tears burned her eyes. If only he knew. “I’ll think about it.” She kicked at the snow again. She knew he would tell Rosetta and Saga about her vow. After they laughed themselves silly, they’d be pissed that she was even considering the Guard. “Find out if we can tell Grant anything because I have a feeling this bull isn’t going to let it go.” The smirk on the incubus’s lips made her want to punch him. She’d had enough of arrogant, smart-ass men today. “No worries, cher, I’ll tell them your couillon taureau is hardheaded like you. They will run to make arrangements,” he said with a laugh. Izzy growled, launching herself at him again, but he disappeared in a puff of sandalwood-scented smoke. Fucking incubus teleportation, she thought as she landed face-first in the snow. She stayed there for a while, letting the cold seep into her. This solitary confinement was turning into a nightmare of bull-sized proportions. Mentally ticking off everything that had gone wrong since she parked her car in Black Dog Camp, she realized she was up to her neck and sinking fast. She should’ve just let the nymphs lead Grant through the camp and left it at that, but no, she’d stepped in. Now the crazed bull and his mother thought Izzy was his mate. Finally lifting her face out of the snow, she took a deep breath and sat up. She could handle this. “You hungry?” he asked from behind her. “Or is snow part of your regular diet?”

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Grumbling because she was hungry, Izzy stood, brushing the snow from her clothes. She needed a jacket if she was going to snow bathe again. Grant stood on his porch, hip cocked up against the rail, looking far too sexy for her peace of mind. He still hadn’t put a shirt on, and the cold air had hardened his nipples. Izzy’s tightened in response. Hoping she could act like it was all the weather’s fault, she sauntered back to the house. “Your friend left?” “Yeah, he’ll be back soon though.” “Well, I hope he has luck finding a place to stay around here. We don’t have a motel over in Eustis. He might have to stay in Sundance, which is about fifty miles south of here.” His tone was offhand, but his gaze was glued to her chest. Izzy ignored the tingle in her stomach and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “He can bunk with me.” “Hm, nope, that won’t work.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “Oh? Why not?” He shrugged. “It isn’t decent, unmated men and women sleeping together.” Her mouth fell open. “Wh–What? You were going to sleep with six nymphs!” His hair flopped onto his forehead as he shook his head. “Nope, I wasn’t planning to do any sleeping with those females. I would have left them at the camp and come home to my own bed.” Her foot tapped on the hardwood of the porch. “So let me get this straight, it’s okay for unmated men and women to have sex with each other, just as long as they don’t sleep in a bed together?” she asked, incredulity coloring her voice. “That’s about it.” She threw her hands in the air and stomped into the house. “You’re impossible,” she muttered. “I suppose it’s a damn good thing

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you have more than one bed in your house, otherwise I’d have to find a hotel too, huh?” The smell of food caught her attention, dragging her into the kitchen area where platters of food covered the heavy table. Hash browns, an omelet that took up two trays, at least a whole loaf of toast, and fruit called her name. Screamed it, actually. She sat down without waiting and fixed a plate. “…we’ll be doing together,” Grant was saying over the roar of her stomach. She stopped shoveling food onto the plate and looked up at him. “Huh?” Blue eyes studied her before rolling. He moseyed—there was no other word for it—to the table sitting across from her. “I said that we wouldn’t have had a problem with that because we’re mates and sleeping won’t be the only thing we’ll be doing together,” he told her slowly as he filled his own plate. Izzy saw red. Fisting her fork, she stabbed it into the tabletop, burying the tines into the wood. “We. Are. Not. Mates.”

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Chapter Nine Grant continued loading his plate as though she hadn’t spoken. “Now, the way I see it, these nymphs might have something to do with my job.” His change of subject was smooth, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. He poured himself a glass of juice. Izzy waited until he was just about to swallow to let him have it. “What job is that? Servicing every cow in the tri-county area?” Juice came out of Grant’s mouth in an orange spray that was quite impressive. He sat blinking at her as if he’d never seen a woman before. Izzy sat back, satisfied that her work here was done. Choosing another fork, she dug into her breakfast. It was good, but there was something just a little off. She frowned at her plate and took another bite, ignoring Grant who was wiping down the refrigerator. Then it dawned on her. “There’s no meat in here!” **** Grant tossed the paper towel he’d used to clean his mess and leaned his head against the wall. Had he really been complaining about placid cow-swans the day before? She was the most impossible female. He was trying his best not to lose his temper, but she acted as though she wanted him to. “Bull boy, why is there no meat in my omelet?” she demanded, a definite pout in her voice.

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“Do you know what an herbivore is, Isola?” His headache was coming back and he didn’t think it had anything to do with him banging his head against the wall. She grunted, sounding more like a cow-swan than an Amazon. He almost laughed because he knew just how pissed off she’d be if she knew what he was thinking. “I know what an herbivore is, Grant.” His dick hardened into steel. It was the first time she’d said his name to his face. She always called him bull boy, or raging bull, or something equally insulting. Hearing his name on her lips made him want to drive right into her body. “What I’m asking you is where is my meat, because I am not a vegetarian, capice?” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he had her meat in his jeans, but held back. He was trying to woo her, not disgust her. Right? He sighed, stretching the tense muscles in his shoulders. “I don’t have any meat in the house, Isola. I am an herbivore, which means I’m also a vegetarian. I won’t stop you from getting your own meat as long as it isn’t…beef,” he said, feeling bile rise up in his throat. “I won’t allow that at all.” She said nothing, so he turned to look at her. She was still shoveling the vegetarian omelet in her mouth all the while glaring at him. “I don’t like being told what I can and can’t do, bull boy.” He returned to the table. She was complaining about his food, but she was eating it like it was about to disappear. Grant studied the table and realized it really was about to disappear. Isola was making impressive headway through food that would’ve made him turn away from the table. Grabbing a few more piece of toast before she ate it all, he began eating again. He wasn’t sure what exactly they were doing, but their gazes locked as they ate. It was strangely intimate to stare into someone else’s eyes during a meal. He saw every nuance of her face as she enjoyed the food he’d cooked for her. That’s how he knew she truly enjoyed the omelet, but wasn’t a big fan of the berries.

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Without much effort, his mind transported them from the table to bed and he could easily imagine how her eyes would tell him what she liked or didn’t like. He throbbed with want for her, but told himself to settle down. Isola would take a lot of work before she’d let him that close. “You said the killer nymphs might have something to do with your job,” she said, pushing her plate away. “Explain.” Hiding a smile, Grant finished his food. “I own a security company. Just yesterday morning we won a bid to provide protection and all security for the Veilerian Ball. We beat out several competitors even though we’re still a relatively small company.” This time he didn’t hide his smile. “It’s possible the nymphs are working for competitors, or someone who wants to stir up trouble.” Izzy didn’t hear the last of what he said, her mind already calculating what he told her. If her suspicions were correct, then Grant had either escaped certain death, or torture that would make him wish he were dead. The only question was who did the nymphs work for? She had a suspicion it was Ormond Steele, but why would nymphs work for him? He was a fire elemental, which would make sense if all the nymphs were fire nymphs, but they hadn’t been. “What are you thinking?” Grant asked her, his eyes intent on her face. It unnerved her the way he stared at her, as though he were trying to see inside her mind. She knew he wouldn’t abandon his campaign to bond with her. Not because he actually liked her, but because it was an instinctive response to the mating tie between them. Part of her wondered how minotaurs completed the bond. It was just idle curiosity. She had no intentions of letting him that close. “Isola?” “Hm?” she answered absently, trying to puzzle through the logistics. Did bulls bite? “What are you thinking?”

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“Do you bite?” she finally asked. The baffled look on his face told her she probably could’ve worked up to the question. “When minotaurs bond, do they bite?” Stupid, stupid, stupid question, she thought a little frantically as his eyes bled to black and his nostrils flared. Shit. His big hands curled into fists on the table as though he fought his instinct. Izzy froze, not sure what she would do if he came at her. She waited breathlessly, trembling with anticipation. She struggled to hide her surprise. She wanted him to come at her? What the hell was up with that, she wondered wildly. She had control over her hormones, regardless of what her tribe thought. Just when she thought she’d have to make a decision to fight or run Grant’s body relaxed. The black faded from his eyes slowly, though the intensity in his gaze didn’t lessen. “No,” he finally said, his voice deep and gravelly. “We don’t bite. Only a female whose touch is recognized by the ring has a chance of bonding with a minotaur.” His nostrils flared as he sucked in a deep breath. “Each ring has a twin somewhere in the world. If the female holds, or finds, my ring’s twin, it solidifies the bond for eternity.” His eyes became heavy-lidded. “Once that happens, conception isn’t far behind.” His blunt words caused her womb to contract with want. Her body was so not listening to her head where this male was concerned. Conception. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought about. Amazons were like human women in their fertility cycles which meant fourteen days before her period were their most fertile. By her calculations, she had maybe a week before she became fertile. If the look in Grant’s eyes was any indication, he was ready to plant some seeds and watch them grow. Not that she should really worry. She didn’t have the other half of his ring. Still, a little voice persisted, she needed to be out of here before she had sex with him, which meant she needed to find out what, if any, part Grant and his company played in Ormond Steele’s grand plan.

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**** Avyn Locke stared at her sisters. They’d returned to their safe house hours ago, but hadn’t come to talk to her about their mission until now. Seeing the shame on their faces, she understood why they’d waited, but that still didn’t help her. “So what you’re telling me is that some random Amazon beat you up and stole your bull,” she said, trying to make sense of the story. Blanche, the second oldest in their family, hung her head. “We took a shortcut through the old Black Dog Camp since that’s where the minotaur brought us. She was there, almost as though she’d been waiting for us.” Carly nodded adamantly, her red hair wild and disheveled. “She was strong, too, Avyn. Like a…like a…” her voice trailed off. “Like an Amazon?” Avyn asked mildly. Drucilla, Francine, and Glenda giggled while Carly turned red. Avyn rubbed her temples. This was very not good, she thought. That minotaur was important to her lover, more important than she was. Eve, the youngest of the group stepped forward. “I don’t think the minotaur knew who she was.” She was the only one in the group who showed any intelligence other than Avyn. Giving her baby sister a doting smile, Avyn asked her why. “Because she didn’t know what we were doing with him. She just started talking shit and then Carly called her a fat ass,” Eve recited calmly, ignoring the daggers her third sister glared at her. “That’s when she attacked. I think she probably would have let us go if Carly hadn’t opened her big, fat mouth.” Avyn glared at Eve. “Ladies do not swear, Eve.” The others cringed. “What else happened?” Not that she really wanted to know. What they’d told her so far was bad enough. Drusilla stared at the floor, wringing her hands. “We might have um, vandalized her car.”

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Avyn drew in a deep breath through her nose. She wouldn’t lose her temper. She was in a sea of tranquility. She was calm, she was calm…she was going to burn them to a crisp! All six of her sisters jumped when a ring of fire surrounded them. They shot terrified looks at the inferno of fury they’d unleashed, otherwise known as their eldest sister. Avyn stood. “Do you realize what kind of trouble you’ve caused me with this?” she hissed, her eyes twin flames of gold. “Do you have any idea what could and will happen to us, all of us, if we don’t bring that minotaur to Ormond?” They didn’t answer, just crowded together before her rage. “Do you?” They still didn’t answer, which is probably what saved their lives. She sent a column of fire out the living room window and into a snowdrift. It melted instantly, leaving a bare spot in the ground. It also bled off some of her anger so that when she turned back to her incompetent siblings, she was somewhat calm. “You find that Amazon and either kill her, or find someone who can kill her. Then bring that minotaur to me. I want him here yesterday, sisters!” she shouted, letting the ring of fire puff out of existence. Avyn’s sisters scrambled from the room with little whimpers of fear and one even coughed pathetically. Once she was alone, she slumped in her chair, her ladylike posture long forgotten. She would be lucky if she survived passing this news along to her lover. There was a good chance he’d kill her flat-out, but of course he did like to torture. She’d helped him do enough of that over the centuries to know his techniques by heart. Yes, she was in a lot of trouble all because one wide-assed Amazon didn’t know how to keep her nose out of other people’s business. Tapping her fingers on the arms of her chair, she stared into space, plotting. If she left this in her sisters’ hands, they’d only screw up again. They might all be from the same, devilishly intelligent father, but unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for their mothers. For the

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most part, they’d all been starry-eyed bimbos without a single thought in their heads. Traits they’d passed down to some of their daughters. Not Avyn though, no way. She knew just how crafty those Amazons were. No, she needed a backup plan in case her sisters missed again. Avyn couldn’t afford for them to miss again. Their window of opportunity was very small on this mission and Ormond wouldn’t hesitate to throw her to the wolves if it fit in with his plan. She shuddered. She needed some help and she knew just where to get it. **** Izzy helped Grant clean the kitchen even though it wasn’t her usual habit. Back at home, the men cleaned everything while the women trained and protected. She just couldn’t resist the chance to chat with him and find out more about him. “I have twelve sisters,” he said as he scrubbed a pan. “I’m actually the youngest of our herd, so they all think they own me. Their mothers, too.” That explained so much. “What about your mom? Is she this protective of her other children?” “I’m her only child. She was one of the first swans in the harem, but it took her a long time to conceive.” He let the water out of the sink and set to scrubbing it with a single-mindedness Izzy found amazing. Who knew cleaning sinks could be so interesting? “Dad hadn’t bonded with any of the others in the harem until I was conceived. After I transitioned, my stepmoms all moved away to join other herds since Dad couldn’t mate with them anymore. So now, the family is all Mom has since her friends left.” Izzy mused over Grant’s words. Bella had every right to be protective of her child. Great, now she felt like shit and she’d have to apologize to the heifer. She snorted.

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“How many swans does your dad have in his harem?” She knew they kept harems, she knew Grant would, and for some reason that really pissed her off. He paused to scratch the side of his nose. “He had five including Ma, but like I said she’s the only one left. He said he didn’t need more than that.” He shrugged and went back to scrubbing the sink. “My sisters and mom have been trying to get me to start my own harem for the last thirty years, but I wasn’t ready for that.” Shit, he was speaking in past tense. Izzy carefully stepped away and put the dishes in the cabinet. She didn’t want to think of him romancing some heifer, and she sure as shit didn’t want him imaging her as part of his herd. Amazons did not share well. At all. She wiped a hand over her face and shook her head. What was she thinking? He was driving her insane. “I think I’ll go unpack while you finish up,” she said, giving him a quick, empty smile. She needed to get away from him for a little while. Maybe she’d trek around the property some, see if there had been any attempts to get into Grant’s house. Sure, he was a security expert, but she was better. “Isola,” he called before she made it to the bedroom. Turning, she saw him leaning against the sink, arms crossed over his chest. “I don’t plan on having a harem.” He gave her a slow, sexy smile that made her nipples harden. “You’re more than enough woman for me, babe.”

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Chapter Ten Grant kept his smile in place as Isola stumbled into the guest room. Once the door closed, his smile fell and he closed his eyes, willing his hard-on to go away. Fuck, had she really asked him how minotaurs mate and bond? His cock leapt beneath his zipper. Yup, she had. He’d almost charged her then, had seen the fear of his reaction in her eyes, which had been the only thing stopping him. There was one very small, very important detail he’d left out, but it was his ace in the hole and if she knew about it, she’d run for the hills. He was almost positive she held the other half of his ring. Otherwise he wouldn’t feel this intense connection to her. Mentally rubbing his hands, he smiled. Someone knocked on the door, dragging him away from thoughts of what he wanted to do to Isola and how often. Ricky stood on his porch looking as frisky as a colt. Damned bear. Grant felt as though he’d gone a few hundred rounds with a badger. “I see our little missy hasn’t been making things easy on you.” Grant smiled without humor. “If you only knew,” he sighed, flopping into his easy chair. “She’s like a boulder going downhill: I don’t which direction she’s going in until she hits me.” Ricky chuckled. “I wanted to drop your truck off,” he said tossing the keys at Grant’s head. “The Bailey twins were about to take it for a spin when I came across them.” He turned to go. “Oh, and you might want to brace yourself, ’cause Aunt Bella called your sisters and the rest of the old harem to let them know about Isola. Oh, and she told your dad, too.” He laughed loudly. “Talk to you later, cuz.”

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Grant stared at his empty doorway, feeling panic creeping in. This wasn’t good. Oh, shit, this was worse than not good. This was a fucking disaster. His eyes shot to the guest room. If Isola responded to the rest of his family the way she had his mother, there would probably be a slaughter. He shuddered. He needed to keep her away from them until he could convince her he wasn’t as crazy as they were. He forcibly calmed his racing heart. They wouldn’t come over this very instant. No, they’d wait and make him think everything was fine. Then when he least expected it, they’d spring on him like four-legged ninjas. Grant scraped his hand through his hair. He’d have to up the timetable on seducing Isola. Gods, when he’d told her about minotaur mating, he’d seen the heat in her eyes. She might not want to be his mate, but her body wanted him almost as much as he wanted hers. It was his job to make her lust burn like a living flame. His mouth crooked up in a sly smile. He could do it. He’d been building his repertoire of skills for over a hundred years. He’d find whatever her weakness was and exploit it shamelessly. Stacking his hands behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling. His nostrils quivered. The scent of roses came from the direction of the window directly across from the recliner. His smile widened with wicked intent. He would make her regret telling that lie about taking a vow of chastity. **** Izzy saw the damned bull smiling at the ceiling. She’d slipped out of the guest room and snuck outside. She could have been halfway to Eustis by now, but she’d wanted to catch the bull in an unguarded moment. He was unguarded, all right, she thought as her mouth watered. Sitting in his recliner with his knees spread wide, she had an

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unfettered view of his crotch. And it was worth staring at, Izzy admitted as she pressed her thighs together. The man was thinking of something naughty because he had a hard-on that could shame a redwood. She watched as one of his hands left the back of his head and stroked down his wide chest. Izzy whimpered. She wanted to use her hands on him, then her mouth, taking the same pattern down his torso over the light covering of chest hair and that sexy arrow pointing right to the prize. Grant unzipped his jeans and there it was...the biggest, mouthwatering cock Izzy had ever seen in her one hundred fiftysomething years. Her knees buckled and she had to grab the window ledge to keep from falling. Was he about to jerk off? Right there in the living room? Where some innocent Amazon could wander out and see? Her body flooded with heat. He was, oh gods, he was! She watched, mesmerized, as his big hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing slightly. The blue denim framed his erection like a present that had just been opened and was waiting for a little appreciation. She had plenty of that. His shaft was so thick, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to wrap her hand around him. The bulbous head was plump and wide. Veins ran the impressive length, making her tongue tingle with the need to trace each one. Her breathing quickened. Izzy was riveted as he stroked up once, a soft moan escaping his mouth. His face was still upturned, so she felt safe watching him pleasure himself. And boy, did he! Slowly at first, he stroked up and down in long, smooth motions until a bead of cum glistened at the tip of his cock. She licked her lips, imaging his taste would be salty, wild, and clean. Her fingers clenched on the wood of the window ledge, her fingernails scraping deep grooves into it. She saw Grant’s chest was moving faster now as he struggled to get air in his lungs even while his hand pumped more rapidly. Even

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through the glass she could hear his ragged breathing and the soft clicking as his hand moved up and down the sleek column of flesh. Izzy’s inner muscles clenched with want, soaking her panties through. She didn’t care. This was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen since, well, since Grant had come out of his bedroom with just those jeans on. Suddenly, his hips arched off the chair, his body bowed out. “Isola,” he groaned as he came, thick, ropey strands of his seed spilling over his hand and stomach. He was beautiful, his skin damp from his exertions, the evidence of his lust coating him. He gave his gorgeous, still half-erect cock two last pumps before giving a loud, shuddering sigh. Izzy’s hand was on the window sash, ready to throw it open. She was going to take that man regardless of what was good for her. Her body was screaming for him, creaming for him, too, now that she thought about it. She was going to ride that bull until— His head lifted off the back of the chair, his eyes finding hers immediately. The smoldering satisfaction in his face had her inner muscles fluttering in a phantom orgasm. Shit. She felt like a gazelle in the sights of a lion. Grant’s tongue swept out, wetting his lips and Izzy repeated the action without conscious effort. Then, he smiled and winked. She gasped loudly, her head jerking back so fast she felt a sharp sting in her neck. The bastard had known she was outside the window! Her face went up in flames, or at least that’s what it felt like as she spun around. That bastard! She stalked away from the house, the heat from her lust and embarrassment leaving her comfortable in the freezing temperatures. That sneaky, horned bastard, she thought as she stomped to her car. He’d put on a show for her. She slammed the door and turned the engine over. The door opened and Grant looked out at her, his jeans still unbuttoned though he had fastened the zipper again. His blue eyes were heavy and sensuous, his cheeks flushed from his climax. Izzy

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stared at him through the windshield, not sure how she felt at this moment. Throwing the SUV in reverse, she tore off of his property like the hounds of hell were on her heels. As she squealed onto the road, she vowed to buy a camera in town because if he did that again, she wanted to be able to watch it any time she wanted to when she got back home. Shivering at the memory, a smile played around her lips. The minotaur was better than Skinemax. **** Izzy had passed through Eustis the night before, but it hadn’t made much of an impression. Glancing around as she drove to the bar she’d seen the previous night, she nodded to herself. It still didn’t make much of an impression. She would guess it was mostly Veilerians living in the area. So yeah, boring. It appeared to be a one-road town with all the businesses clumped together as though afraid of what was outside the city limits. Considering they had shifters, killer nymphs, and one badass Amazon in the area, the townspeople should be afraid. There was a small bank right next to the police station, which Izzy made sure not to stare at. That damn bear was there. She just knew it. Shuddering, she looked at the opposite side of the street. A diner, grocery store, and barber shop all shared one side of the road. The bar was on its own at the edge of town. The black sheep of the business district, no doubt. Although she hadn’t seen a church in the area, she figured there were probably some who didn’t approve of the townspeople imbibing. Thank the gods, it was open. Hopping out with all the exuberance of a kid on the last day of school, Izzy skipped into the bar and stopped dead in her tracks. Shifters were packed wall-to-wall. She recognized a few of them as wolves, a few others as mountain lions, but it was the biggest ones

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in the crowd she was leery of looking at. Izzy had always believed that shifters moved like their animal half. Wolves were silent and tended to lope a bit. The cat breeds slinked all graceful-like. The bears though, the bears should have moved like lumbering beasts, but they never did. Instead, they were quieter than the wolves and more graceful than the cats. In spite of their massive size in human or bear form, they managed to be sleek and deadly. All conversations stopped as heads turned to view the newcomer. Animal eyes gleamed at her in the dimness of the bar, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Self-preservation told her to walk out of the bar without taking her eyes off the crowd, but self-preservation was another one of those traits her tribe was trying to teach her. Luckily, none of her sisters were with her, so they couldn’t kick her ass for what she was about to do. Bracing her feet shoulder-width apart, she tucked her thumbs into her pants pockets with a grin. “Well now, no one told me Eustis had a petting zoo!” **** Grant sat at his desk checking over expense reports, or at least trying to. His mind kept conjuring the scent of Isola’s lust, which led his cock to demanding an immediate repeat of the morning’s activities, this time with her in attendance. Considering he’d jerked off twice more since Isola’s disappearance, he should’ve been wellsated for several hours, but no. Not him. The little Amazon’s scent was like an aphrodisiac. If he could bottle it, he’d never have to work again. Viagra would be obsolete. He wasn’t sure where she’d gone, but since none of his family had called him, he was certain she was just fine. The phone rang and a tingle of foreboding raced over his skin. He eyed the offending appliance. He didn’t want to pick it up. What had she done this time?

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The strident ring sounded again and with a heavy sigh, he answered. “Strickland.” Loud, raucous noise blasted at him. He recognized the howl of a few of the local werewolves, as well as the roars of the werelions. Oh gods, he thought. “Grant,” Ricky shouted over the noise. “You might want to come by Duffy’s.” The phone clicked and he was left listening to the dial tone. He shut it off and closed his eyes. She was at Duffy’s, the only bar in a thirty-mile radius of Eustis. Surely she hadn’t caused that much trouble, he thought as he threw on a T-shirt. She was a Veilerian, she knew the taboos, knew the rules. An image of Isola’s mischievous smile and the daredevil glint in her eyes had him cursing and shoving his feet into boots. She was going to cause a riot. **** By the time he got to the bar, Grant’s blood pressure was nearing critical levels. His brain was a jumble of likely and unlikely scenarios, and each one left his body in a cold, clammy sweat. He didn’t want Isola to alienate any of his neighbors since she’d be living here soon. At least, he hoped she would be. If she pissed enough people off, they might be run out of Eustis by a mob. He could hear the shouts before he even shut the engine off. With a furiously pounding heart and a dry mouth, he crossed the lot at a dead run. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Sure, most of the people inside were people he’d known his entire life, but he wouldn’t let a single one of them lay a hand on Isola. Fear held him in its tight grip as he pulled the heavy steel door open and stepped inside the murky bar. The scents of at least four other shifter races filled his nose. Beneath that layer of scent was a

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sweet, musky rose. Isola was somewhere in here, he knew, but finding her by sight was nearly impossible. He’d never seen Duffy’s so busy, even when the Dog Ball League played. Had someone called in reinforcements when she walked in the door? Everyone knew Amazons were a little crazy and bloodthirsty. It wasn’t improbable. He peered over the heads of friends, searching, but couldn’t see her anywhere. Ricky stood in the corner, his great height affording him a view of the entire room and he waved Grant over. Pushing through the shifters, Grant muttered greetings and hurried along before anyone could draw him into a deeper conversation. Eustis was small enough that everyone knew everyone and felt they had the right to nose into each other’s business. “Where is she?” Grant asked without preamble as he came abreast of his cousin. The bear had a smile on his face that left an uneasy feeling in Grant’s gut. That was the same smile Ricky had worn the day he’d dared Grant to kiss one of old man Hollister’s daughters. Grant still had the teeth marks on his ass from that stupid stunt. “You’re just in time, cuz,” Ricky drawled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know if you’d get here before the seats were all taken.” He kicked a stool towards Grant who sat down with a grunt. “What the hell are you talking about? Where’s Isola?” His eyes strained to see across the bar, trying to delve through the throngs of people, but he didn’t see her anywhere. The main room of the bar was completely open, allowing the patrons space to shift if they needed it. Today that wasn’t the case. The shifters were packed shoulder to shoulder with more still pouring through the door. “What’s going on?” he shouted as the crowd suddenly roared. Following the turned heads, he saw one of the local werelions saunter out of the back of the bar. He thought her name was Lisa Ford, but wasn’t sure. He tended to steer clear of her since she had a reputation for brawling with anything that moved. Grant considered

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himself more of a lover than a fighter, and Lisa was the type of female who fought with everyone she met. Sort of like Isola. His heart stuttered and his eyes widened with sudden realization. “Shit!” He jumped off the stool. Now he recognized the anticipation hovering in the air. The crowd was waiting for a fight. Ricky’s baseball mitt of a hand grabbed Grant’s shoulder, pushing him back on his stool like a mother with a cub. “Now, you just sit here and watch the show,” the bear said easily. “The rules have already been established and both girls agreed to it. So just sit back and enjoy.” “Lisa fights dirty!” “And you think your little Amazon doesn’t?” Ricky shot back with a chuckle. “Grant, she walked in here like she owned the bar and started talking shit. She was aching for a fight, so Lisa’s gonna give it to her.” Just then Isola entered the main room which immediately erupted into boos and hisses. She’d shed her T-shirt and jeans, strutting out in a pair of leather pants and a leather halter top. Her hair lay in a single thick braid that swayed against her back as she entered the fighting ring. Grant hated her outfit. His entire body tensed as some of the shifters gave wolf whistles at the sight of her. It was too much bared skin as far as he was concerned. She shouldn’t be wearing such skimpy clothing, he groused even as his eyes ate her up. She had scars all over her back and shoulders. Some of them looked like they came from blades, but a few of them on her back were definitely claw marks. He and Ricky leaned forward as Isola turned away from them, giving them a perfect view of her back. Yup, claw marks. “Bear claws,” Ricky muttered darkly. “No wonder she doesn’t like us much.” Grant squinted. “Can you tell which kind?” he asked his cousin even as he aimed a kick at one overly eager lion’s head. The lion

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hissed, turning to face Grant who cracked his knuckles. “Stop looking at her like that and I won’t rearrange your face, cat.” A big elbow slammed into Grant’s ribs. “Let the boy look, Grant, he’s barely out of transition. You remember what those days were like,” Ricky told him. Yes, he did remember, which is why he planned to kick the young lion’s ass first chance he got. Giving the younger male another cold glare, he turned his attention back to the center of the room. The women stood in the center of the ring of shifters for the ref to quiet the crowd. Duffy, the bar owner and one of the crankiest demon lords Grant had ever met, meandered to join the women. He was even bigger than Ricky and no one gave him trouble. Ever. His height and width made the two women look like children though they were both tall females. He looked them over, his black eyes studying them carefully. He seemed satisfied by what he saw because he nodded. When his gaze lifted and pierced the crowd, everyone stopped talking and some even seemed to stop breathing. “This is gonna be a clean fight. No weapons, no claws, no teeth. First to surrender loses and owes the winner a year’s service in any capacity she chooses.” Some of the younger males in the audience snickered, earning a dark look from the demon lord. “No outside help. The fight lasts until someone surrenders or I’m too damn bored to keep it going. Got it?” He pinned each of the women in place with his gaze. Isola nodded with a smile while Lisa glared back at the demon before shrugging. “Sure.” “Okay then,” Duffy said, taking a step away from the women. “Fight.”

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Chapter Eleven Lisa immediately circled the ring looking for an opportunity to jump. Isola cracked her neck and jumped a few times, shaking her hands out. The brilliant smile on her face gave Grant a bad, bad feeling. Apparently Lisa felt the same because she snarled, “What the fuck are you smiling at, Amazon?” “Oh, you know, just wondering how you’re gonna like cooking and cleaning for an entire Amazon tribe,” Isola said easily. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Although I might be greedy and keep you as my personal servant. I hate to clean.” Lisa gave a muted scream of rage and attacked. She was a whirlwind of fists and feet as she went after Isola. Grant held his breath. Shifters might not be quite as strong as their animal halves in human form, but they were still a lot stronger than the average human. If Isola had agreed to this fight, he wouldn’t stand in her way, but he also wouldn’t let her get hurt. “Calm yourself,” Ricky told him as Grant jumped to his feet when one of Lisa’s fists connected with Isola’s shoulder. “She’s a fucking Amazon, cuz. They’re known for hand-to-hand combat.” “Yeah, but Lisa’s a crazy bitch.” Ricky gave him a disbelieving look. “And Isola isn’t?” Grant ignored his cousin, concentrating on the fight. The crowd ate it up, cheering for Lisa who was a local and a shifter. Isola looked as though she wouldn’t last long. She barely seemed able to defend herself from the hits raining over her body. She ducked, she blocked,

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but Lisa came after her in a relentless barrage of punches and kicks Grant had trouble tracking with his eyes. Duffy circled the pair, his eyes watchful for any cheating, but stayed out of their way. Once or twice, he even winced as Lisa connected with Isola in a solid hit. Grant wanted to close his eyes as he watched his proud Amazon get the shit beat out of her. Then something changed. He wasn’t sure when it happened or exactly what happened, but Lisa started to flag. She stumbled a couple of feet away from Isola, sweat pouring off her body. Isola straightened, looking as though she’d just had a full body massage. Everyone felt the change, and the shouting stopped until Grant could only hear uneasy whispers as everyone waited to see what the Amazon would do. Isola smiled, a glint in her eye that reminded Grant of every single time she tormented someone. It was full of mischief. It was a smile full of trouble. **** Her blood pumping through her veins with excitement and the thrill of the fight, Izzy felt ten feet tall. The mountain lion looked worn out, which was exactly what Izzy had planned. Oh sure, if the fight would’ve been claws out, she would’ve gone for the cat rather than let the cat come for her. Instead, knowing the shifter probably didn’t fight as much in human form as she did her cat form, Izzy had let Lisa build some confidence and exhaust herself. Izzy crouched, preparing to spring for the other woman when she saw Grant’s face in the corner of the bar. Instantly, her brain went into hibernation, replaying images of the minotaur stroking that magnificent cock of his. Her focus lost, she stared at the male and forgot all about the cat in front of her. A vicious right hook connected with her jaw, snapping her out of her daze.

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“Goddammit!” Izzy shouted, pressing a hand to her jaw. It wasn’t broken, but it was close. She glared at the cat that looked smug yet tired. “Okay, I’m finished playing with your furry ass.” Letting loose with the Blood Maiden war cry, Izzy launched herself at the lioness. She forgot about the male, sort of, while she pummeled her opponent. Grabbing the cat’s arm in a tight lock, Izzy brought the woman to the ground, pinning her in place. Laughing happily, she then proceeded to twist Lisa like a pretzel, using some of her sisters’ favorite moves. She loved nothing more than a good wrestle. The demon referee circled them, making sure no one had weapons or claws out, but Izzy ignored him. She wasn’t going to let some nogood cat think she could talk smack about Izzy Malone. She was an Amazon and proud of it. Let all the shifters have their claws and teeth, she could maim just as well with her bare hands and this cat would never forget it. Something sharp raked across Izzy’s arm, but she ignored the pain and the roar of a male. Pressing down on the pinned arm, Izzy gripped Lisa’s hair with her free hand. Blood poured down her arm and the area was going numb which might be indication of nerve damage. Stupid cat bitch. She got a good hold on the cat’s head. Without remorse, Izzy slammed Lisa’s head into the floor over and over again until the cat stopped moving. She wasn’t dead. No, Izzy knew just how much damage the shifter could take and went no further than that. Breathing deeply, she released the thick, tawny hair and sat up again. Silence reigned supreme in the bar and she looked around warily. The shifters looked stunned. She pushed to her feet, keeping her body loose and relaxed. She wouldn’t put it passed one of the fuckers to come after her for beating their champion. The demon owner, Duffy, came up next to her and grabbed her wrist. Though Izzy resisted, he lifted her arm in the air.

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“Winner,” he grumbled, the grumpy look on his face not telling Izzy anything. He dropped Izzy’s arm and kicked Lisa’s foot. “Someone take this oath breaker out of here, fix her up, and then send her south to start her year of service.” He turned to Izzy without checking to see if anyone would obey. “Drinks on the house for you, girl.” “Sweet,” Izzy said with a false smile. Her whole arm was numb now, but she refused to show weakness in front of anyone, least of all a demon lord. The last one she’d come across had been Noelani’s tormentor, and she’d burned that fucker’s house after he was dead. It’d taken a Dämon-Fluch, or Demon Bane, to kill the demon lord. Those guns were strictly licensed, which meant she couldn’t buy one no matter how good she’d pretended to be. Duffy grunted and moved back to the bar. The crowd of shifters parted like the Red Sea, closing up behind Izzy as she followed Duffy to the long mahogany bar. The demon grunted at a bear shifter sitting on one of the stools, and the bear wisely vacated. “Sit,” Duffy commanded Izzy with a press of his big hand on her shoulder. She really hated following orders, but since he wanted to give her free drinks, she sat. Izzy wasn’t stupid, free drinks meant she could get loaded without dipping into her savings. She watched the demon circle the bar and start mixing a drink. The shifters were all around her, all staring, but no one said a word. It was unnerving, but she held her emotions in check. If someone wanted to rumble, she was more than willing to— A hand grabbed her shoulder and she instinctively grabbed the arm attached to it and threw the toucher over the bar. It happened so fast, Izzy didn’t have time to stop herself when she realized it was the cop. Duffy ducked as the bear went flying over his head to crash into the bottles on the wall. Izzy winced, her shoulders up around her ears

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as she closed her eyes. Oh shit, she’d just thrown a cop across a bar. She could plead insanity. Maybe? Ricky slowly came to his feet, a bland expression on his face. Izzy gave him a sick smile. “Are you going to arrest me now, or after I have my drink?” Some of the shifters laughed softly watching the exchange. Ricky shook his head. Planting one big hand on the bar, he vaulted over it to land next to Izzy. She should’ve been uneasy, but the fight had taken some of the fear out of her. Especially when she noticed the way the bear made sure to keep his movements slow and easy. “I should throw your ass in jail as a public service, lady,” he rumbled as he dusted glass off his uniform. “But I won’t. I wanted to know if you wanted to press charges against Lisa for fighting dirty.” Duffy slammed some concoction in front of her. It looked black, but smelled good. Without bothering to ask what it was, Izzy slammed the drink back. Her hand clenching on the glass was the only outward sign she made of the drink’s strength. Inside, however, it felt as though she’d swallowed a swarm of killer bees. The drink burned her mouth, her throat before it settled in her stomach where it hit like an H-bomb, heat flowing up and outward throughout her entire body. “Shit, did you see that?” someone whispered over the loud murmurings of the crowd. “She drank Duffy’s Atomic Bomb in one shot!” Izzy wasn’t sure if she could respond to Ricky, or the crowd who seemed to find this amazing. There didn’t seem to be any air. Black dots danced before her eyes and for a moment, she was afraid she’d pass out. However, slowly, feeling crept back into her body and she was finally able to take a full breath. She felt amazing! Duffy, with a small quirk of his lips that could’ve passed for a smile, placed another drink in front of Izzy. This time she sipped at it, enjoying the blast of heat pinging through her body. “Nah, don’t press charges,” she told Ricky as someone else came up so close behind her, she could feel their body heat.

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“But she cheated,” the bear insisted, looking slightly ferocious. But instead of being afraid of him, Izzy patted his shoulder. This drink was the best! “Don’t worry, Smokey, she’ll get hers when my sisters take her in hand.” A blunt fingertip smoothed down the back of her injured arm, the sensation rocketing through her. Her nipples hardened immediately and warmth flooded her pussy. She knew without looking around that Grant had made his way to her side. She didn’t want to look at him because all she’d see was how he looked as he came. Ricky was talking to her, the other shifters were jesting back and forth, but Izzy’s entire focus was on the fingertip trailing up her shoulder and neck to swirl around her ear. The muscles in her stomach contracted with need and more wetness soaked her panties. “You smell delicious,” the damned bull murmured in her ear. His breath eased over the sensitive flesh making her entire body shudder visibly. His other hand came around to land on the bar on the side of her, effectively caging her on the stool. “That was some fight, Isola.” Why hadn’t she noticed before how erotic her name sounded on his lips? She closed her eyes and fought the urge to lean back against his chest. The alcohol was affecting her ability to reason. She really should stop, she thought even as she took another sip of the fiery mixture. “Shouldn’t have let her get that last punch in,” he continued, his finger coasting over her jaw. Since it was his fault she’d let her guard down, Izzy rammed her elbow into his diaphragm. His breath left him in a whoosh. She smiled slightly and sipped her drink. “Oy, Grant, let us meet the little lady properly,” a hearty voice called out. “Yeah, man. You’re not the only minotaur in the area,” another voice shouted, his voice a distinct whine.

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“Before you start thinking you have a fan club, you should realize we can all smell your arousal,” Grant whispered in her ear over the shouts of others. Izzy froze her drink halfway to her mouth. Her gaze lifted from the bar to the bear standing on the other side of Grant’s arm barrier. She knew there was no real attraction between her and Ricky, but his face was flushed with color and his brown eyes dilated. Oh, fuck. **** Grant leaned in, breathing deeply of rose and feminine musk. His cock throbbed with want. He knew the other male shifters in the bar smelled the same thing he did and it made him want to roar. As though her scent wasn’t enough to drive them wild, watching two females battle it out was guaranteed to pump up the lust of the shifters. There was just something about hearing those feminine grunts and groans as they fought, the scent of their sweat, and the flex of lean muscles that made a man’s cock harden into steel. He’d loved watching Isola, but hadn’t liked seeing the lust on the other males’ faces. Even now that the fight was over and she’d established dominance, Isola was far too tempting to Grant and the males he once considered friends. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder, muscle her into the bathroom, and fuck her against one of the sinks. Hell, if they were alone, she’d be bent over the bar with her leather pants around her knees. Closing his eyes to keep from doing just that, he concentrated on the words bouncing over his head as more and more shifters demanded a chance to talk to her. It wouldn’t kill him to let them meet her. He did want Isola to be comfortable here. She’d already earned their respect by kicking Lisa’s ass. Before he’d let them talk to her though, he’d have to stake a claim. Eyeing the satiny soft skin beneath her ear, he longed to take a bite even though he’d told her minotaurs didn’t bite. It had been a

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truth at the time, but after watching her fight, after smelling her rosy musk, he was tempted to do as his wolf, cat, and bear cousins did and leave his mark on her. Hell, his mouth was watering at the idea. Someone bumped into him. “Move out of the way, lad, we want to meet the Amazon,” a Scottish-accented voice said from behind him. Grant leaned his forehead on the top of Isola’s head, wishing the rest of the shifters would go away so he could woo his female. But the persistent tapping him on his shoulder told him they wouldn’t leave her alone until matters were settled. He knew who the shifter was. The male worked for Grant once in a while when he needed extra muscle on the job, but right now, Nelson Anders was a male trying to horn in on Grant’s territory. Pressing a soft, butterfly kiss to the crown of Isola’s head, Grant took a deep breath. And shifted into his minotaur form, a roar of possessive rage escaping him as he whirled to face the threat to his female.

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Chapter Twelve Izzy sipped yet another drink with outward calm. She wasn’t going to look behind her to see Grant tearing the bar apart. No she wasn’t. Because if she did, she’d forget all about that “m” word his mother had tossed around and grab that big bull by the horns. The wet heat between her legs was ready for him, for everything he could give her, but her head wouldn’t let her give in. Ever. The scars on her back throbbed with each beat of her heart, a harsh reminder of what happened when you got close to a shifter with a protective family. She didn’t need to relearn the lesson with a horn in her ass. Grant was off-limits. Which is probably why I want him so much, she thought with a snort. She frowned at her drink. “Duffy, I don’ shink thish drink is working,” she slurred at the demon. He grunted at her. “Why?” “’Cause I can still shink straight.” Ricky, who’d stayed behind while Grant fought, laughed loudly. “I think that’s your problem, missy,” he shouted over the roars and snarls filling the bar. “You don’t think at all. What did you imagine these shifters would do when you walked in with that petting zoo line?” Izzy shrugged. “It was better to have them pished off and not thinking than rational and able to smell how closh I was to wetting my pants.” She finished the broken drink. “So you were scared?” Duffy grunted as he plunked another Atomic Bomb in front of her.

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“Shit yeah,” she slurred, swigging back some of the fresh drink. “Ahh, this is the besh drink, Puffy.” “It’s Duffy, lady.” “Dash what I shaid. Puffy. Any-hoo, I might have shelf-control issues, but I’m not shtupid. Shtupid.” She frowned. “Dash a funny word. Shtupid.” The sounds behind her were dying down, but she still refused to look. “Why won’t you look?” Ricky asked her curiously. Izzy blinked up at him, really seeing him for the first time. “Yer hawt, Ricky!” she exclaimed loudly, nearly falling from her stool in stunned amazement. “Yer a hawt honey bear.” She laughed at herself. He rolled his eyes, though the tips of his ears turned red. “Why won’t you look behind you?” “How did you know I won’t look?” she demanded. The last she’d heard, bears couldn’t read minds. “Bears can’t read minds, Isola.” She gasped in shock. Ricky sighed. “You said it out loud,” he told her patiently. “Oh.” She relaxed on her stool again, her ears attuned to the noisy fighting behind her. She hoped Grant wasn’t getting hurt. She really wasn’t sure she could fight after two of Duffy’s drinks in her. “Isola?” Ricky prompted, nudging her with his hip. She swayed on her stool and frowned at him. “Huh?” He gave a long sigh. “Why won’t you look to see what Grant is doing?” he asked her slowly and clearly. “Oh,” Izzy said again, trying to remember why it wasn’t a good idea. She tapped her fingers on the top of the bar. Then she snapped her fingers, or tried to. She attempted it two more times before Ricky’s hand covered her tangled fingers. “Caush ish not a good idea.” “Why not?”

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Izzy glared at the nosy bear. “Caush then I’ll want to fuck him, and thash against my vows.” **** Grant was breathing hard. Blood trickled down his face from various cuts, his ribs were cracked, and his knuckles swollen and bruised. But at least the bastards knew where they stood in Isola’s life—nowhere. Wiping blood out of his eye with the back of his hand, Grant shifted to his human form. He was sore, he was tired, and he was horny. And that’s when he heard Isola slur that she’d want to fuck him even though it was against her vows. The erection that he’d been sporting before the brawl had eased, but at those words, it sprang right back to attention harder and more painful than before. Some of the shifters he’d just beat the shit out of perked up at her words, but with one severe glance and a deep growl, they looked away from the tempting figure slumped on the barstool. Ricky was laughing, tears streaming down his face as he used one finger to keep Isola from falling off her stool. Duffy’s face was impassive as usual, though there was the hint of a smile in his eyes. Grant stomped over to the bar as forcefully as he could with his injuries. “We’re leaving,” he announced loudly, causing his lip to start bleeding again. That was romantic, he snorted to himself and looped Isola’s arm around his neck. She slipped off the stool, her body falling flush against his. The soft curves of her breasts pressed into his chest, making his ribs ache, but he didn’t give a shit. If it were up to him, she would be plastered to him at all times. “I’m not ready to leave,” she mumbled, looking up at him with those big brown eyes. Her face was flush from the drink and though

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the sweat from her fight had long dried, tendrils of her hair stuck to her face. This was probably what she looked like after a hot and heavy round of sex, he thought, his cock twitching with anticipation. “I wanna ’nother drink.” “I don’t think you should have another,” he answered, ignoring Ricky’s shaking shoulders as he laughed. Her face turned mutinous, the corners of her mouth tightening with impending temper. “You don’ tell me whatta do.” Grant sighed. “I’m not telling you what to do, sweetheart. I’m just tryin’ to get you home before you fall flat on your face.” She waved her hand under his nose, smacking him in the jaw. “I can hannle my liq—″ She slumped against him, snoring. Looking down at the sexy, inebriated Amazon in his arms, Grant smiled. “How much did she drink?” he asked Duffy as he lifted her against his chest. The demon lord looked at the ceiling as he counted. “Five Atomic Bombs, which is a record.” His eyes lowered to pin Grant in place. “She’s a good woman, Grant Strickland. Don’t be fucking with her like you do your other pretties.” Grant’s neck burned with a blush as the demon lord gave him a dark look. He’d slept with Duffy’s great-niece one time, but she’d seduced Grant, not the other way around. Duffy didn’t see it that way and it was a wonder the demon didn’t bar Grant from entering his place. “I’m trying to get her to mate with me,” he mumbled softly, though not softly enough as Ricky’s eyes widened in surprise. His cousin looked between Grant and Isola, then back again. “Are you serious? Your mom’ll freak out!” Grant shrugged and began making his way through the shifters still on the ground with his tender burden in his arms. He knew his mom would have a fit. It didn’t matter, though. Isola was perfect for him. He hadn’t planned on finding a mate so soon, hell, everyone

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knew that, but he hadn’t counted on running into an Amazon with a lot of sass and the balls to stand up for herself. Ricky was following him, nudging fallen men to make sure they were still breathing. “She’s nothing but trouble, Grant.” He took in the destruction his normally calm cousin had created. “You’ve never lost your temper as much in your entire life as you have since you met her.” Pushing his way outside, Grant started for his truck. “True, but I’ve never had a mate before.” “You don’t have one now,” Ricky pointed out logically. “Did you forget about her vow of chastity? Amazons don’t take things like that lightly. And even if she agreed, what happens when you start building your harem? Do you think that little firecracker is gonna be okay with that?” Grant put Isola in the passenger seat of his truck, fastening the seatbelt around her. Her scent drove him mad. It lingered on his clothing and in his nose after he closed the door. Turning to his cousin, he crossed his arms and tried not to show the nervousness he felt. He’d made his decision and no one was going to talk him out of it. “I can change her mind about the vow, if she actually did make one. And as for the harem, I’m not taking one. I don’t need a harem to carry on the Strickland name.” With that announcement, he stalked around the truck to get in the driver’s seat. Without looking at the stunned Ricky, he started the engine and left Duffy’s parking lot. Ricky was still standing in the same spot, Grant saw as he glanced in the rearview mirror. Yeah, he’d done more than shock his cousin, he knew. He’d stupefied him and horrified him more than likely. But Grant knew in his heart that his decision was the right one. There would be no others once Isola was his. As he drove through town back to his land, he tried to think of ways he could break the news to his mom and the old man. Paul Strickland was an old, traditional minotaur and he expected his only

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son to carry on the family name in grand style by having one of the biggest harems in Wyoming. Grant winced at the thought of his father’s disappointment, but he wouldn’t let it deter him. Isola wasn’t a cow-swan, so she wouldn’t be comfortable with life in a harem. But even if she was okay with it, Grant wasn’t sure he could do it. Just thinking about mating with anyone other than Isola made him sick to his stomach. No, she would be his only mate and she’d love it. He just needed to convince her of that before his pheromones ramped up her fertility cycle because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out the need to take her.

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Chapter Thirteen Izzy was warm and comfortable. Sighing contentedly, she stretched and clutched her pillow tighter. She’d had the most amazing dream, she thought sleepily. She’d dreamed that she had gone to Wyoming, of all places, and met a sexy minotaur who made her forget all about her one attempt at a relationship and how horrible it had turned out. He’d made love to her for hours, treating her like a fragile flower and not a battlehardened Amazon. It had been simply amazing. Pressing her cheek against her pillow, Izzy breathed in the scent of male musk and spices. Mmm, sexy. She rubbed her cheek over the pillow, enjoying the friction of hair abrading her cheek. She paused in mid rub. Hair? Her eyes blinked open, but it took her several seconds before she could focus on anything. She wasn’t in her tent near Forked Island, Louisiana. No, this was a house. She was in a masculine bedroom that looked familiar. She’d been in it the day before. Or was it the same day? She couldn’t remember, but her jaw ached, and there was a burning pain in her arm. What the hell had happened? She didn’t bother looking at her pillow. She knew who it was just by the way her body was toasty warm and the scent that filled her nostrils. Grant. Why she was in bed with him without a stitch of clothing on, she couldn’t say. She wasn’t sore in the most obvious places, so they hadn’t had sex, but they were both naked and his cock was hot and heavy against her thigh. Yeah, time to extract herself from the bed before he woke up. Easing away from his delicious warmth, Izzy managed to remove her

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leg from where it was draped over his groin without him moving. Peeking up at his sleeping face, she fought the urge to sigh like a lovesick teenager. He was a handsome devil, no question about it, but she wasn’t going to fall for that trap again. Nope, Izzy Malone didn’t let a pretty face bypass her common sense anymore. The sheet covering them was twisted around her right leg, trapping her in the bed even after she’d untangled her body from Grant’s. Muttering under her breath, she wasted precious minutes unwrapping her leg while trying not to jostle the bed too much. She’d just managed to free herself when Grant’s body shifted closer to her, curling around her as she leaned half out of the bed. His head rested on her right breast, his nose nuzzling her nipple. Izzy froze, waiting to see if he’d wake up. His breathing didn’t alter and his eyes didn’t flicker, but he wasn’t idle. No, the damned man’s hands stroked over her naked body as though he owned it. Izzy’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as those big, warm, raspy mitts moved over her sensitive skin. Her breath caught in her chest as he brushed his lips across her nipple. She should move, get away from him before they did something she would regret, but gods, it felt so good! Her back arched a bit as she tried to get her nipple in perfect alignment with his mouth. She just needed a little pleasure, she thought hazily, just a little bit of him before she pulled away. The man might have been asleep, but his body knew exactly what to do because his mouth opened over her hardened flesh, his tongue laving her nipple with expertise. Izzy went boneless. Her legs fell open and she let herself experience being loved up by a sleepy Grant. Air whooshed from her lungs as his teeth scraped over her nipple and her hands found their way into his thick hair, holding him to her breast. She moaned softly as one of his hands slid up the inside of her thigh. He moved so slowly she wanted to grab his damn hand and put it where she wanted it most, but then he found that spot all on his

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own. Long, thick fingers stroked her pussy, and Izzy’s hips began dancing, trying to get him inside her. Then, oh gods, one of those clever fingers slid inside her quivering body. Eyes closed as she reveled in the sensation, Izzy rolled her hips in time with his thrusting finger. A second finger quickly joined the first, stretching muscles that hadn’t been touched by anyone but herself in decades. Sighing softly, she widened her legs, wanting more. Her hands slid down the back of Grant’s neck, stroking his skin as she lost herself in pleasure. “Oh!” she gasped as a third finger entered her, stretching her almost to the point of pain. The pain faded quickly as pleasure mounted in great waves. Grant’s mouth tugged on her nipple as his fingers fucked her hard and fast. Then he brushed his thumb over her clit. Her eyes flew open. She looked down only to see Grant’s eyes open and black. She should have been pissed, and she was…somewhere in her body, but it floated away until it was buried in the back of her mind. All that remained was the pleasure Grant gave her. Izzy’s blunt fingernails dug into his shoulders as she felt herself tugged towards the precipice of orgasm. “Please,” she moaned, her head flung back as she reached for it. His mouth moved to her other nipple, suckling hard as his fingers curved to reach a tender, extremely sensitive spot in her body. When he touched it, Izzy’s body stiffened as though she’d been electrocuted. She came harder than she ever had before, a strangled scream whistling from her throat as her inner muscles convulsed around his stroking fingers. She fell against the bed, limp and panting for breath as his finger retreated from her body. But was the bull finished? Oh no, of course not. She should’ve just jumped out of bed instead of trying to be discreet. She should have punched him in the head when he went after her nipple, but oh no, she hadn’t. And now she was paying the price.

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She whimpered as his mouth drifted down her belly. The ring through his septum brushed her flesh slightly, leaving a hot trail behind. Izzy wiggled in his hold, wishing she could find that much lauded self-control her sisters were always saying she had…somewhere in her body. Then his mouth found the very center of her being and she forgot all about self-control. Hissing in pleasure, she dug her hands into his hair and pressed him closer. She was still so sensitive from her orgasm she quivered beneath his questing tongue. **** Grant was lost in the taste of Isola. Waking up with his hands on her body, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from bringing her to orgasm just like he wasn’t able to stop himself from doing it again. She was like a drug. Her orgasms fed his lust, making it burn higher. She was so responsive, so open with her sexuality he could spend hours with his tongue inside her. He groaned against her flesh, his tongue seeking her rigid clit. Her thighs tensed as though to close, and he quickly pressed his hands on them to hold her open wide. Leaning back slightly, he looked at her sweet, little pussy and felt his cock jerk in reaction. “Gorgeous,” he moaned, dipping his head to lap at her again. She tasted like cream and spicy femininity. He thrust his tongue into her saturated channel, his nose ring pressing against her clit. Izzy’s body shook as jolt after jolt of magical electricity surged through her body before it bounced back to his. They were connected. He could feel it as his heart sped up to beat in time with the pulsing thud of her femoral artery. His cock throbbed. His balls drew up tight as he neared his own orgasm just from fucking her with his tongue. Her inner muscles quivered around his tongue as more moisture flooded his mouth. She

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was close. Moving slightly, Grant wrapped his lips around her clitoris and suckled. She screamed, her fingernails leaving marks in his scalp, but the pain only added to the pleasure of his own orgasm. He came all over the bedspread, his hips thrusting in time with Isola’s clenching pussy. He nuzzled her gently, his tongue flicking over her clit one last time. Her back arched and she trembled in his hold. Resting his head on her thigh, he breathed in her musky scent, loving how well she responded to him. She had been made specifically for him. He knew it as surely as he knew no other woman had ever satisfied him as well without even being inside her. Grant gloried in the harsh sounds of her breathing as she struggled to gain control over herself. He’d brought this mighty little Amazon to climax twice and left her a quivering mass of flesh and bone. He smiled against her skin. He was in heaven. Then she punched him in the head. Grant saw stars for a moment before she punched him again, this time on the shoulder. Rolling off his pissed-off mate, he landed on the floor and was on his feet just in time to see her launch herself at him. Long legs wrapped around his waist at the same time her hands encircled his throat. She was trying to strangle him! He was momentarily distracted when her thighs tightened around him, pressing her still wet flesh against his stomach. Oh fuck, that felt good! But the need for air pushed any thoughts of lust from his brain. Encircling her wrists, he pulled her hands from his throat. “What’s wro—” he started, but was cut off, as with a loud crunch, she head-butted him. Roaring in pain, he let go of her hands, pushing her off his body more forcefully than he intended. She flew away from him, landing in a heap on the bed. Blood poured from his nose and tears burned his eyes. She was insane! He was so pissed he shouted just that at her. The crazy woman jumped up, standing in the middle of his bed buck naked but for a tiny ring on one of her toes. She slapped her

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hands on her hips, her eyes burning with anger. “I’m crazy? Well…you’re a molester!” Grant paused, blinking. “Huh?” “Yeah, you heard me. You molested me, and I don’t take that shit from no one!” she shouted at him. “How did I molest you?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “You…touched me without permission!” Grant’s anger faded a bit and he smirked at her. “You weren’t complaining when you pressed my face against your pretty little pussy.” Color flooded her body. He saw it happen. It was a rosy glow that started at her chest and flowed upwards until her face was bright red. Her mouth fell open as though she wasn’t quite sure how to react. He smiled deeply. Her hands fisted at her sides, and she glared at him, her eyes angry slits in her red face. “I knew this would happen if I stayed here,” she growled at him. Grant’s head tilted to the side. She was a lot more pissed off than he thought she’d be. It was disproportionate to what had happened. He hadn’t fucked her, after all. And she’d asked for more, he was pretty sure she had. Doubt hovered in his mind as he tried to recall the moments between waking up and loving her. She hadn’t moved. She’d held still for him, her back arching up to him in a silent plea for more. “I want a fucking apology, or I’m leaving and you can try to figure out what the killer nymphs want on your own,” she told him, her nose in the air haughtily. Crossing his arms over his chest, he knew this was a critical moment in the relationship he hoped to form with her. Isola was hardheaded and strong. If he apologized to her for giving her pleasure, he’d never be on equal footing with her. She’d always see him as weaker, even if he wasn’t.

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He shrugged as casually as he could, considering his cock was hardening as they talked. Grant watched as her eyes drifted down his body to lock on his growing erection which grew even more under her avid gaze. She might not want to want him, but she did, and his dick preened under the attention. “I’m not sorry, so why should I apologize?” That brought her eyes back up to his face, though they were now dilated with suppressed passion. “You’re not sorry?” she repeated, her voice breathless. Her nipples were hard again. He licked his lips. She crossed her arms over her chest, effectively hiding her breasts but leaving the rest of her bare. “What do you mean, you’re not sorry? You should be! I could…I don’t know, kill you or something for what you did without my permission!” “You almost did kill me, sweetheart,” he drawled, letting his grin slip into place. “You tasted so sweet, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” Her cheeks reddened again. “Shut up,” she ordered through clenched teeth. Grant licked his lips again. “Sorry, honey, but I can’t stop thinking about it. Mm, it must’ve been a while since you had a man ’cause you’re so fucking tight I could come just from dreaming about how tightly you’d squeeze my cock.” **** Izzy wasn’t a prude. If anything, she was considered downright dirty-minded, but the way this minotaur talked to her had her blushing like a schoolgirl, and she hated it. She honestly did, but her body liked it. A lot. She was getting all wet again and she had to fight the urge to leap on his cock and ride him like a champion bull rider. She didn’t want an apology. It had been the only lame-brained thing she could think to say to him. Her body had rejoiced in his attentions, but allowing her hormones to lead her into temptation

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again was so not happening. Uh-uh, she thought as she squeezed her thighs together. She’d been down that road before and all she had to show for it was a scarred back and an inability to stay in one place for long. But this fucking man was tempting her oh so much. Her mouth watered as he shifted his stance, making his cock bob with his movements. She wanted him, gods she wanted him, but he wanted a mate and his godsdamned mother thought Izzy was it. “I’m not your mate, you stupid bull,” she growled, her anger returning. Thank gods. “I’ll never take a mate.” He didn’t seem bothered because he shrugged again. “You want me.” Izzy’s lip curled in a snarl. “So the fuck what? I have control over myself, unlike some people.” One of his gold eyebrows rose. “Oh really? Is that why your tribe exiled you here?” he asked her in a silky tone. She frowned at him in confusion. “How do you know about that?” The bastard tapped the side of his nose. “I have ways of finding things out, my sweet. Now, you think you can control this thing between us?” Izzy sniffed, lifting her nose in the air. “Of course. I’m an Amazon, bull boy. We’re taught how to endure and overcome and I’ve taken a vow of chastity.” As of yesterday, she thought with a gulp. A slow, sexy smile spread across his face. “Well then, how about a bet, babycakes?” She’d kick his ass for the endearments later, but her competitor’s soul perked up. A bet? She liked bets. It was one of the things she knew she’d miss the most about the Blood Maiden tribe. There was always something to bet on, whether it was who was going to piss who off and how fast, or how many times Rosetta would change her outfit during the day. But this minotaur was tricky. He’d have some

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ulterior motive, and by the look on his face, it would be something she’d hate. “What kind of bet?” she asked suspiciously. “You seem to think you have enough control over your body to avoid me, and I don’t think you do. In fact, I think you’ll beg me to fuck you. So that’s the bet. If you can resist your hormones, I’ll turn myself over to your tribe for tithe.” He smiled broadly, pleased with himself. “And if I lose?” she asked even though defeat wasn’t an option. His eyes went pure black, and his nostrils flared. With the gold ring glinting in the early morning light, he looked wild and dangerous and oh so delicious. She shivered. “If you lose and beg me to fuck you, you’ll accept being mated to me with a smile on your face and we’ll investigate this nymph thing as bonded mates.”

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Chapter Fourteen Grant watched Isola’s face freeze at his words. It wasn’t just trepidation that made her resistant to mating. It was sheer terror. What the fuck had happened to her, he wondered as he waited for her to decide. It wasn’t that vow she was thinking of. No, someone had hurt her at some point and he wanted to know who and why. If she accepted his bet, Grant knew she’d make it nearly impossible to get close to her. He’d have to entice her, seduce her from afar. It would be hell on his cock, but mating her for a lifetime was worth much more than a few hours of sex. At least that’s what he told himself. The squinty-eyed look she gave him told Grant she suspected his plans and would do her best to thwart them. He smiled. She was so perfect for him. “Fine, but I want to make a stipulation.” He nodded amicably. He could afford to give her some feeling of control, he thought with a mental chuckle. “This bet ends a week from now at midnight.” Grant ended his mental congratulations, staring at her with surprise. A week to seduce her. He’d wanted more time than that, but was certain she wouldn’t be able to resist their attraction for each other. His plan would have to be modified, but the end goal would be the same. His pheromones were already working on her body, urging her to ovulate. A week would be plenty of time. He nodded. “Fine. A week from now at midnight, the bet ends.” Stepping forward, he gave her another slow smile. “Shake on it?”

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Isola stumbled away from him, although he suspected she was really trying to remove herself from temptation as his cock was still rock hard for her. “N–no,” she stammered, hopping off the bed in a move that made her ass jiggle in a way that had Grant hissing through his teeth. “I’ll just take your word that you won’t cheat.” “Are you sure, sweetheart? You didn’t even ask if I’d fight dirty.” She glared at him as she snatched the sheet off the bed, wrapping it around her body like a toga. “Of course I didn’t ask because I plan on fighting dirty as well, bull boy. And I don’t plan on losing.” His cock twitched at her challenge. Gods, he loved her sass and her ass. He chuckled out loud, earning himself a dirty look as she stomped to her own room. Looking down at his throbbing erection, he vowed Isola would soon give it plenty of tender loving care to make up for this insanity. And she’d love every minute of it. **** Izzy was proud of herself for not letting Grant see just how freaked out she was. Oh, she was positive she could withstand any seductive lures he cast, but her real worry was herself. Half drowning herself beneath the shower spray, she scrubbed her hair and groused about her body’s reaction to him. As a warrior, she’d trained and honed her body for battle. She could withstand excruciating torture and substandard living conditions. Thousands and thousands of years of selective breeding had made her a war machine, capable of great stealth, strength, and agility. Yet when she was within twenty feet of Grant Strickland, her body forgot all of her training and became soft, feminine, alien. Izzy rinsed the suds from her hair and washed her body, trying to ignore the tingling sensitivity of her nipples. Grant had a very talented mouth, she thought with a sigh as she stroked the washcloth over her breasts. He had skills that belonged more to an incubus than a

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hardheaded minotaur. She shivered as she remembered exactly how he’d used that mouth on her body. The shower curtain was thrown back and the minotaur in question stepped into the shower with her. Screeching, she slapped at him with the towel. Really, she was surprised at herself. For a moment, she felt like a normal, untrained woman instead of a deadly Amazon. “What are you doing in here?” she screamed, slapping at his head and trying not to look down at his rampant cock. It was so beautiful. “Stop hitting me,” he growled, stealing the cloth out of her hands and throwing it over her head. “I conserve water around here, so you and I will be sharing the shower.” Izzy spluttered as he moved her out of the way to wet his hair. She had soap sliding down her torso to the suddenly aching spot between her legs and he wanted to shower with her? “I’ll get out,” she volunteered, knowing if she watched him bathe himself, she’d end up drooling. He hooked his arm around her waist, pulling her back into the tub. “Babe, we’re just showering,” he said, his arm like a brand around her body. Feeling his cock against her ass, Izzy closed her eyes. She wanted to rub up against him. She wanted to bend over and take him deep in her body until the empty feeling in her womb eased. “It doesn’t feel like you just want to shower.” She winced at the quiver in her voice. Grant chuckled, the sound vibrating up her back, making her nipples tighten painfully. “The shower’s plenty big enough for the two of us.” “You mean the three of us,” she croaked, pulling away from him. She heard the lid on the shampoo pop open. “Three of us?” Keeping her back to him, she finished washing herself. She could do this. She was a friggin’ Amazon! “Yeah, you, me, and Mr. Longfellow,” she muttered, risking a glance over her shoulder to see he had his eyes closed as he washed his hair. Swiftly washing her tender folds, Izzy was finished by the time he opened his eyes again.

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He laughed loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls of the shower. “Sorry, Isola, he just knows he’s in a shower with a beautiful woman.” “Well he won’t be for long,” she shot back as she jumped out. She had a towel wrapped around her before the shower curtain was pulled back revealing a wet, mouth-watering Grant with suds slipping down his forehead. “You didn’t rinse off!” he scolded. “It’ll be just fine, Mr. Conservationist,” she answered as she stalked to her room with his laugh following her. She slammed the door closed behind her and locked it. Resting against the solid wood, Izzy gave a sigh of relief even as her brain bombarded her with images of Grant dripping wet and naked as the day he was born. Her body quivered with unfulfilled desire. He was walking sin, no two ways about it. **** Grant kept things on an easy level after the shower. He didn’t want to rush things with her. He wanted her to get to know him and vice versa. It would be much easier to build a mating on friendship and chemistry than lust alone, he figured. So towards that aim, he suggested they try tracking the nymphs. His mate’s hand went to her hip as she treated him to an insolent, calculating look. “Are you any good at tracking?” He blinked. “I thought you were, but if you need help…” Oh he just loved it when she got her back up. Her eyes swirled with dark fire and her lips tightened like an old schoolmarm. It made him want to kiss the irritation right out of her. He licked his lips. “I—” She pointed at herself, which drew his gaze to her breasts. She frowned at him and lowered her hand. “I am an excellent tracker. One of the best in the Blood Maiden Tribe.”

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It wasn’t easy acting like he didn’t believe her, but he scrounged up a humoring expression from somewhere. Maybe he should’ve been an actor, he thought, because she looked pissed enough to chew nails. “Well, if you think you can do it…” He could hear her grit her teeth from across the room and hid a smile by turning to pick up his keys and cell phone. “I don’t think I can do it. I know I can do it.” “In that case, why were you asking if I could track?” He turned back to her with a frown. Her hands were curled into little fists and he knew she was dreaming about punching him in the face. She dragged in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she visibly fought for patience. Grant figured he was doing his part to teach her the self-control her tribal sisters wanted her to learn. And gods knew he had fun doing it. “I’ll go alone because you’ll only slow me down.” Ouch. “You think?” He sauntered towards her. Her left foot lifted as though she was about to take a step back before she realized she would be retreating. His little mate stood her ground, glaring at him. “I’ll always be able to keep up with you.” He let his gaze trail over her body. She was so delicious. “No matter what we’re doing.” This close, he could see how her pupils dilated at his words and had to fight his own reaction. She was perfect for him. Vow or no vow, he was going to have her and she’d love every minute of it. Isola seemed to snap out of it, her eyes narrowing on his face. “In that case, let’s get goin’, LaMotta.” Mentally rubbing his hands together at the thought of working with his female, Grant let her lead the way and watched her hips sway. This was going to be a piece of cake. **** She was going to kill him. Grant wiped the sweat off of his face and watched her bend down to study some tracks. He loved the

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position she was in, but he was too fucking tired to get excited about it. He knew he was in great shape. He was a shifter for gods’ sake. He could run for hours in either bull or human form and then perform bedroom aerobics for the rest of the night. But none of that had prepared him for keeping pace with his mate when she was on the hunt. They’d started out at the Black Dog Camp since that was the last place the nymphs had been. Isola had looked at his truck with disdain before loping off in the direction she sensed the women had gone in. Rather than look like a wimp and trail behind her in the vehicle, Grant had tightened his belt and followed on foot. Now, he wished he’d have at least taken the time to pull his snowmobile out of the barn. The damned woman had the stamina of a team of sled dogs. Which was a compliment, he reminded himself as he strove to catch his breath, because in no way would he imply his mate was a bitch. No, he’d just say it. Leaning against a tree, Grant let his muscles rest for a moment. Isola studied something on the ground, her face screwed up in concentration. He didn’t know how in the hell she could track the nymphs in the snow two days after the incident, but she seemed to know what she was doing. He’d seen the footprints leaving camp, but after a while, they’d faded as though the nymphs had simply vanished. Isola though, had doggedly followed a trail only she could see. She was…amazing. “Did you rest enough yet?” He was going to strangle her. Grant stood straight, ignoring the heavy ache in his muscles. She was still staring at the ground, but her lips were curled into a smile. The little witch. “Do you see anything?” he asked, changing the subject. He wasn’t weak, dammit. He’d just have to start working out more. He eyed her ass. He could almost imagine the cardio workouts he’d get with her in bed.

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“They came this way.” She stood, frowning to the west. “But the trail stops here. They might have grabbed a portal out, although I don’t get the feel that there was a warmage or demon around here.” “Couldn’t they have bought a portal spell?” Isola shrugged, her hands going to her hips in what he was beginning to realize was her thinking pose. “It’s possible, but those things are like, muy expensive since warmages have to pool a lot of power into them.” She turned and started walking back towards him. “Did they give you any clues? Mention anything other than Ormond’s name? What were they wearing? Did they look like locals or outsiders?” Grant grimaced because his brain hadn’t been on what the women were wearing. He hadn’t cared as long as it could be moved to the side or taken off quickly. “Er, they didn’t mention any names. They didn’t even call each other by their names.” “What about their clothes?” He rubbed the back of his neck even as he felt blood rush to his ears. “Um, you saw them! Why are you asking me about their clothes?” She crossed her arms over her chest with a fierce frown. “Maybe because you sat down with them, then drove them here with the express purpose of getting them out of their clothes. I, on the other hand, didn’t get a chance to exchange fashion tips before we started fighting.” Shit, of course, she was right. He ran a security business. His job was to notice details and he couldn’t remember much. “Er, they were wearing skirts. Short skirts.” “And?” “Tight…sparkly shirt things?” He was a man, what did he care about fashion except how it looked on a woman? Isola closed her eyes and he knew she was counting to ten. Or maybe a hundred because she kept them closed for a while. “Look, I have to ask you this—are you fucking with me?” Her eyes opened,

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revealing Isola in a full temper. “Seriously dude, are you playing here? Because this sounds like bullshit to me. Pun intended.” “Of course not!” “Then explain to me how a reasonably intelligent male can’t remember a single thing about the six women he was going to fuck two nights ago! Were you drunk?” Grant was getting pissed. “No.” “Had you taken any sexual enhancement potions?” He saw red. “No fucking way, babe; I don’t need them.” His voice was low and dangerous, but she didn’t seem to notice. She paced in front of him, hands still on her hips. “Something’s not right,” she muttered under her breath. She came to a sudden stop, her head coming up sharply. “Did they touch your skin, your clothing?” Grant hiked one of his eyebrows at her. “Of course they did. They were crawling all over me.” Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits and he felt a moment of triumph. His inner adolescent male wanted to pump his fist in the air. She was jealous! He fought the urge down although he couldn’t help the smile that teased his lips. She was j-e-a-l-o-u-s. She spun on her heel and started back towards the Black Dog Camp. “Did you wash your clothes yet?” He didn’t move for a while, watching her walk away from him. Gods that was a view he could get used to just so long as she came back. “Uh, no, not yet.” “Good.” She didn’t speak again the entire trek back to the truck. Her strides were just as energetic and long as they’d been when they started out that morning. Grant thought about shifting to his bull form since it would make the walk a little easier, but didn’t want to miss the chance to talk to her.

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“Did you grow up in the Blood Maiden Tribe?” he asked after about fifteen minutes of silence. He wondered where the carefree chatterbox of two nights ago had gone. He missed her endless talking. “No.” When she said no more, Grant pressed. “How long have you been with them?” She kicked a log out of her way. The cold suited her, bringing out the rose in her cheeks. The snow was a perfect backdrop for her dark hair and alabaster skin. If he were a more sentimental man, he’d think she looked like a snow princess or something romantic like that. As it was, he just wanted to push her up against a tree and fuck her blind. “I’ve been with them for about twenty-eight years.” The muttered sentence reminded him he was trying to learn more about her—and not from the inside out. “Oh. Where were you before that?” He really was curious. He hadn’t realized Amazons wandered from tribe to tribe. He thought they stayed in their family groups. “I moved around a lot,” was all she said, her tone clearly stating she did not want to have this conversation. Interesting. He decided to change the subject. “Ricky and I saw you had bear claw scars. Is that why you don’t like bears?” She stopped dead in her tracks, her head tilting to the side. “Why do you ask?” There was caution in her voice, caution and a thread of fear? Why would she be scared of a question? Grant strode up next to her to see that her face had paled to the color of the snow at their feet. Her pupils were pinpricks of black in the cloudy brown of her eyes. “Shit, are you okay?” His hands circled the tops of her arms, pulling her into his body. There was a faint tremble in her limbs as though she was experiencing shock. To witness her change from badass Amazon tracker to frightened female made Grant want to tear someone’s head off. He’d figured there was some trauma in her past—what else could account for her

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fainting at the sight of Ricky? But he hadn’t thought the mere memory of it could send her spinning out of control. Because out of control she was, burrowing deeper into his body instead of fighting him off as she normally would. Sorry to have caused such a strong woman to seek solace, Grant rocked her in his arms, letting her pull warmth and security from him. It was a moment out of time. He held her, not as a potential lover, but as a woman with hurts that still caused her pain. Grant had never felt that kind of connection with a woman before, always leaving his lovers before anything could develop. Of course, none of them had been his mate, he reminded himself as he inhaled the sweet rose scent of Isola. Grant didn’t know how long he stood there holding his mate, but he adored every minute of it. She fit perfectly against him, her curves molding to his harder frame. Her shudders trickled away bit by bit until she was still. The movement of her breasts against his chest the only indication that she was a sentient being. As though his body understood the crisis had ended, his cock hardened against her soft belly. He stared over her head, trying to think of anything to cool the lust scalding him from the inside out. Baseball, meat eaters, Ricky in a pink tutu. Nothing worked. Right when his body reached melting point, she pulled away from him. She ducked her head low as though embarrassed by her weakness, but he couldn’t deny that her show of vulnerability touched something deep inside him. Even more important though, was the feeling of satisfaction that she’d taken comfort from him. “Isola,” he rasped, grabbing her hands and giving them a little shake to encourage her to look up at him. “I’m sorry about whatever happened. Maybe if you talked about it—” She broke away, her usual cockiness making its appearance. “Thanks, Dr. Phil, but I’m a hard nut to crack.” Her smile was as false

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as his great-grandfather’s teeth and just as scary. “Let’s get back to your house. I have a theory about those nymphs.”

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Chapter Fifteen She was an idiot. Other people had said so. From her mother with the “incident” to Saga, Izzy had been called an idiot several times, but she’d never applied that tag to herself until now. If it wouldn’t have looked so obvious, she’d have banged her head on the nearest tree trunk. Had she really let the minotaur…comfort her? She closed her eyes, praying for the ground to open and swallow her whole. Grant wasn’t the kind of male a woman could show the least bit vulnerability around. She’d already passed out in front of him once, dammit, and she’d nearly done it again. She stopped dead in her tracks, frowning ahead. “What is it?” Grant asked, stepping up next to her. His eyes narrowed as he studied the woods. Izzy tilted her head to the side without replying. She had a thought she needed to pursue and Grant couldn’t come with her. Ignoring him for the moment, she narrowed her concentration inward. Since coming to Wyoming, she’d fainted once and nearly fainted another time. What caused it? It couldn’t be Grant. He was hot yeah, but he wasn’t sucking the air out of the atmosphere or anything. She was pretty sure she wasn’t dying of something. She felt perfectly fine other than the bear-induced fainting episodes. Frowning in thought, she centered herself, or tried to. Most Amazons managed without a problem, but Izzy had always had trouble finding her center. That’s why her spirit walk had taken such a disastrous turn. She pulled back her lips in a snarl at the thought. Not gonna think about it. Nope.

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Her eyes screwed shut in concentration. Her spirit teetered before settling in. Peace washed through her body, the sounds of the snowhushed woods filtering through her soul. Tension flowed from her limbs, leaving her loose and relaxed. That’s when she heard the spell attached to her psyche sing. “Isola?” Damn bull was a pain in her ass! Her eyes snapped open and she glared up at him. She would not let the concern in his face sway her. No way, Jose Cuervo. But damned if he didn’t look cute with his tousled blond hair and solemn blue eyes. She caught her dreamy sigh before it escaped and scowled at him. “Do you mind? I’m tryin’ to get in touch with my fuckin’ spiritual self here.” She shouldn’t have wanted to melt at the quirk of his sexy lips, but she did. She was pretty sure the snow was melting under her feet she was so hot for him. Why did he have to have such a good sense of humor? Bastard. “Your ‘fuckin’ spiritual self,’ huh?” That drawl was lethal, she was sure of it. “Yeah, you know to figure out when, how, and why someone attached a terror spell to me.” The sympathy melted from his handsome face, replaced by dark anger. “A terror spell?” Ooh, that growl left her nipples hard and tingling. Suppressing a shudder, Izzy nodded. “It magnifies a person’s natural fear.” She waved her hand. “Let’s get back to your house. There’s some shit I need to check into.” “How?” he demanded. At her blank expression, he waved a hand back the way they had just come. “How did you know they took a portal? How do you know someone put a spell on you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, managing to look both sexy and threatening. Hubba, hubba for Alpha males, she thought. “And how did you find a trail I couldn’t see?”

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“Because I’m amazingly cute and smart?” He deepened his stance, his feet spread apart. He looked like an unmovable wall. Of course, if she really wanted to move him, she could, but he was kind of cute when he was getting all growly. “Isola.” She really shouldn’t take such pleasure in him using her full name. She usually hated it. “Are you paying attention to me at all, woman?” “Hm?” “Gah!” He thrust one big hand through his hair, his growl of frustration sounding eerily similar to Saga’s. “How do you know all of this stuff?” “I’m an Amazon, Grant.” She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean we’re just über-sexy chicks who run around in tight clothes and fight, you know. We’re Veilerians, too. We have a special skill set that helps us remain competitive with the shifters and magical beings.” She flung her hand to the side where she could see the vague outline of a very old battlefield. “I know that spot over there is probably where your great-great-grandfather fought to secure this land.” She looked the other way. “I know that if you follow this trail, you’ll find your cousin Ricky and his latest lady love getting busy in a line shack.” She pointed back the way they’d just come. “And I know that those nymphs had to have taken a portal or been flown out of here because their trail stops in this dimension. Wherever they went, however they went, they left this plane, which means we’re dealing with something other than pissy nymphs.” **** Grant looked down at the earnest expression in his mate’s eyes. He’d known Amazons were more than women warriors, but he hadn’t realized how much more they were. “Do all Amazons have your abilities?” Somehow he doubted it.

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She shook her head. “We all have different skills. I can…read places where people have been and where they’ve gone. It’s made me one of the best trackers in my tribe.” She said it simply, proudly. “What about the spell? How do you know someone put one on you?” That pissed him off. A lot. He hated seeing her scared and vulnerable. Yeah, it was nice to be the one she clung to, but he hated that she had to do it in the first place. This was a woman who was born to stand on her own. But with a mate at her side, he amended. “It’s hard to explain,” she began hesitantly. He set his expression. She sighed. “C’mon, we’ll talk on the way back.” Grant stared hard at her until he was satisfied that she wouldn’t try to wiggle out of telling him more about herself. With a short nod, he indicated that they should go on. She rolled her gorgeous brown eyes at him. The little smart-ass. “Thank you so much,” she muttered, glaring at him before turning her attention back to the path ahead of them. Grant’s lips curled as soon as she looked away. Gods, he could love this woman. He almost broke stride the thought was so sudden and unexpected. He’d only known her maybe forty hours and he was on the verge of falling for her. His heart pounded like a tympani. He hadn’t expected to become emotionally attached so soon. “…Amazon secrets to a minotaur.” She shook her head. “Queen Albreda is gonna kick my ass all over the bayou for this.” She threw her shoulders back and tilted her skin at the sky in defiance. “Okay, fine.” She took a deep breath and looked at him out the corner of her eye. Grant’s breath caught in anticipation. She was finally going to open up to him. Give him some real information as to who Isola Malone was. “I see dead people.” He paused, a frown pulling at his mouth. Why did that sound familiar? And what did dead people have to do with spells? Isola

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watched him, that devil-may-care sparkle in her dark eyes. He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want to encourage her. She was impossible! “Run,” he growled, his body tightening in anticipation of the chase. For a second, she looked confused and Grant reveled in the knowledge that he’d thrown her for a loop. She stared at him with the adorably blank expression he was getting used to before it dawned on her that he was going to run her down like prey. Challenge burst into life, filling her eyes with heat and her cheeks with color. Then she was gone. Grant threw his head back, letting the anticipation grow. Minotaurs were warriors who’d fought in epic battles since the beginning of time, and he was no different. He’d show Isola just what she’d unleashed. With a bellowing roar, he shifted to his minotaur form and let the power course through him. His acute hearing picked up the rapid thump of her heart as she slipped through the trees as silent as a ghost. He’d catch her. They both knew it. It was just a matter of when. **** Izzy bit back a squeal of laughter as she heard Grant crashing through the woods after her. She never would have guessed playing hide-and-seek with a male could be so much fun. She had to give the minotaur credit, he knew how to play. They’d been at it for at least an hour, playing in the woods. She wasn’t even sure if she was letting him close, or if he was better at tracking than she’d originally thought. Whatever the case, there had been several close calls where she’d had to rely on her ability to remain motionless to avoid being caught. Hunkering down in the hollow of a tree, Izzy held her breath. She was cold, sore, and felt full of…fuck, was it happiness? Momentarily

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stunned to realize she was happy, she was slow to realize he had her cornered. She bit her lip, staring at the hoofs and bulging lower half of his minotaur form. She hadn’t seen it at the bar. She hadn’t wanted to see it because she instinctively knew that this form, more than any other, would appeal to her wild streak. Looking at the black coat stretched taut over the thick muscles of his legs, Izzy knew she was in trouble. Something thumped against the trunk of the tree she was hiding in and it shook around her. Primitive memory kept her from making a sound, though the blood pounded through her body. Either Grant’s horned head or his strong arms slammed into the tree again. She heard wood creak as small flakes drifted onto her head. A sneeze threatened, but she held it back. Gods, she wanted to run screaming out of her hiding place, wanted Grant to chase her. What the fuck was wrong with her? She was an Amazon. She did the chasing, not the other way around! But no matter how much she fought it, her body wanted to be dominated, wanted to be hunted down like a beast and taken. She shivered at the thought. Oh hells, no. Hells no! “Isola,” he growled in a voice that was deep and rough like gravel. “Come out and take your punishment.” Punishment? Who was he kidding? In answer, she huddled into herself, wrapping her arms around her knees and lowered her head. Yeah, it was a cowardly move, but for once, she was choosing intelligence over spontaneity. It wasn’t hard to decide either. She wasn’t big into punishment. She shuddered. “Isola.” Had his voice always been so demanding? Had it always sent little flutters of arousal through her body? He growled and she knew he could smell her desire for him. She squeezed her eyes closed. The tree shook again, this time wood splintering beneath the punishing blows it took. Izzy hunkered down and waited for something to fall on her head.

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She didn’t know how much time passed, only that daylight seemed to creep up on her. Risking a peek through squinted eyes, she saw that the tree trunk was strewn around her, yet not a single branch or chunk had touched her. The hollow she’d taken refuge in was still standing, though it was now open at the top. Fresh, cold air whistled through the opening and straight down her spine. Shivering, she peered around for Grant. And saw him standing right behind her. He’d shifted back to his human form, his very naked, very aroused human form. She sprang to her feet, but the hollow wasn’t quite big enough for her hips. She was fucking stuck with a crazy-ass minotaur who wanted to paddle her tender backside! Screeching in frustration, she pushed and pushed against the wood, trying to free herself. She heard him chuckle, the sound trailing up and down her nape like a tongue and setting off tiny fireworks in her body. His big arms came around her, hugging her close to his hot skin. It was both comforting because it was warm, and frightening because his cock pressed against the small of her back. “Oh, Isola, were you scared of me?” He sounded amused and just the tiniest bit hurt. He kissed the side of her neck. “I’d never hurt you, babe. You should know that.” It took several attempts before she could find enough spit in her mouth to speak, but when she did, her voice came out as a croak. “I’m not scared of anyone.” He hummed against her neck, his teeth nibbling on her skin. “That’s right. You’re very brave, sweetheart.” Kiss. “And sexy.” Suckling kiss. “And very, very naughty.” Bite. Izzy’s head lolled to the side and her body went limp as sizzling power swept through her body. It started at the spot where Grant’s teeth were embedded in her skin and pulsed outward until it settled in her womb. She was moaning incessantly, her body going from fearful to fully aroused in seconds.

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When his hands moved to cup her breasts, Izzy arched her back as much as she could. She wanted to feel his hands on every inch of her skin. “Isola,” he moaned into her tender neck, his hot breath washing over her. “I want you.” Alarm bells, somewhere in the sensible part of her mind, went off. He wanted her because he thought she was his fucking mate. Mating equals bad, Isola Marsha Malone, remember? “No,” she mumbled through passion-swollen lips. She wanted to sink into the sinful decadence of Grant’s embrace. His thumbs swept over her nipples as his hands massaged the full globes. Izzy gasped, her back arched so sharply, she felt pain in her hips. Why were her hips hurting? She glanced down, past the aweinspiring sight of her tits cupped in Grant’s big hands, down to the tree trunk she wore like a skirt. Right. She’d been what? Hiding? Hiding. Yes. His thumbs and forefingers pinched her nipples, erasing all thought. Oh gods, she was going to die if she didn’t have him! “Mine,” he rasped, his voice a claiming and a warning all in one. Her eyes shot open as reality crashed over her. Grant was going to fuck her because he thought she was his mate. He’d want her to give him baby cows and shit. He’d want to take over her life, remove all trace of Izzy the Warrior and make her into Isola the Homemaker. Never! Snarling as she realized how close she’d come to giving into him, Izzy slammed her elbow back catching Grant unaware. He grunted loudly, his mouth releasing her neck and his hands falling away from her chest. Her nipples mourned the loss, but Izzy had more important things on her mind, like getting away before he made her forget herself. Again. She heard a thump as he fell to the ground. She kicked out with all of her strength. A century of training and honing her body into a well-oiled fighting machine paid off because she splintered part of the trunk, just enough for her to wiggle her hips

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free. Without even turning to look at Grant, she sprinted for the truck. She wasn’t about to become any man’s mate. Hopefully by the time he caught up with her, he’d have control of himself because she wasn’t sure she could go through another lesson in seduction at his hands. **** Grant rubbed his chest. The impromptu snow bath had killed his amorous mood. His cock lay on his thigh, a defeated and frustrated organ. So she wasn’t ready for a mating. That was fine. He could handle that as long as she didn’t break any of his bones. Sitting up, he looked down at his chest and saw an Isola-elbowsized bruise on his solar plexus. Yeah, she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about being his mate. If anything, she was freaked out about it. But she’d get over it. For a short time, she’d been like putty in his hands. He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet. All it would take was finding the right short time and making it into something more. But for now, he’d give her a little break from his attention. In the meantime, he’d learn as much as he could about the Amazon who would become his mate. Eventually.

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Chapter Sixteen The ride back to Grant’s house was silent yet filled with tension and angry words. At least on Izzy’s part. Again with the idiocy? Really? She wasn’t going to let herself get dragged into a relationship. No way in hells. She shuddered. How many women had she seen fall into that trap and lose their identity? Too fucking many, including her mother. Her lip pulled back in a snarl as she thought of Trianna. The fool Amazon had taken a bear as a mate. A fucking bear! She’d let that bastard control every part of her life and nearly cost Izzy her own life because she wouldn’t fall in with what her stepfather planned. “Did you just say ‘fucking bears?’” Grant asked in a hesitant voice. Izzy glared over at him. He was just so damned cute she wanted to kill him and spare herself the pain of heartbreak. Oh yeah, Grant was her kryptonite; she sensed it. He would ruin her for any other man, not that she had a lot of faith that she’d find one worth having anyway. No, it was best to keep their time together strictly business. She could do it. She knew she could. All she needed to do was refrain from talking to him because every time she opened her mouth, she ended up challenging him, and Grant was a male who loved a challenge. The bastard. “What’s with the hostility to bears anyway?” He was like a dog with a bone. Could she tell him? What would he think of her if he knew what motivated her? That damn terror spell forced panic through her, itching just beneath the skin. But now that she knew it was there, she

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could battle through it. She hoped. She really didn’t want to friggin’ faint again! “You want to know?” The words were out of her mouth like bullets, fast and hard. “Well, yeah, I did ask.” Sarcastic bull. She turned her head to stare out at the landscape. This wasn’t going to be easy, no way in any hell would it be, but maybe finally, he’d see how flawed and ruined she really was and let her be. “My mom was a tracker for the Thunder Wolf Tribe in Ireland. She was one of the best in the Amazon Nation.” She couldn’t help the ring of pride in her voice. Trianna had been the best and she’d taught Izzy so much…before everything went to shit. “I was her only child. She wasn’t even sure what race my dad was. Apparently there was a drunken orgy after some battle she fought in.” Grant’s choked laugh made her smile a bit. “Yeah, see, I was born to be wild. “Anyway, we were a team. I was nearing my first transition. You know how that is, you’re cocky, full of piss and vinegar, and horny all the time. I lost my virginity to a bear I’d been seeing around the camp.” “A bear?” Grant’s voice was quiet and even, though she saw his hands tighten on the wheel. “Isola—” “Shut the fuck up and listen, okay? I don’t want to do this again anytime soon.” She waited a minute, but he said nothing else. They were nearing his house, the driveway just a quarter of a mile ahead. She needed to get this shit said and over with so she could get back to the important stuff. Like not being vulnerable. “We just fooled around, had fun, all that stuff young Veilerians do. His dad found out and I guess he was afraid I was trying to hook up with him permanently, because he visited our camp to talk to Mom.” She shuddered. “They were instantly attracted to each other. I mean, they went after each other like a house on fire. Mom recognized him as her true

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mate, and he knew she was his life mate. It was…great for a while, then they moved back with his clan. I stuck around the tribe more than with Mom and her new family.” She looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together. “I missed her, a lot. So the day I began my spirit walk, I went to visit her.” The laugh startled her, but she couldn’t hold it back. “It was ridiculous. She was this old-school Amazon, tough as nails, yet when I saw her again for the first time in months, she was…different. I could tell she hadn’t trained since the last time I saw her, she was softer.” Izzy laughed again. “She bitched at me for swearing. Seems her mate didn’t like that kind of talk from females. He ran his clan with an iron fist, and females were only good for cooking, cleaning, fucking, and making babies. She tried to talk me out of taking the walk.” That still baffled her the most. “You know, ’cause females shouldn’t war against men. “Her mate came home while I was there and we fought. It was…ugly. He threw me out, told me never to go back which was fine with me, but then his son…the one…uh,” she stumbled, glancing at Grant, who eyed her with compassion. “Uh yeah, that one…he said he wanted me. His dad, siblings…they didn’t like that idea much so they went after me. I guess if I was dead, then his son would get over me.” She laughed softly though her heart ached. “Mom jumped in to save me. Stupid bitch. One of her mate’s other kids killed her, he killed them, they were still trying to kill me. It was kind of like the closing act of Hamlet.” He didn’t laugh. Okay then! “When it was over, it was just me and the…bear who uh, you know. He uh, well, he started crying and shit. It was horrible. I dragged myself out of there and finished my spirit walk, but I was never…comfortable around bears again.” Phew, fuck that had been the hardest thing she’d ever done including walking away from her mother’s body. Sometimes she still had nightmares about that day. That Dov was stalking her, planning his revenge for the death of his father and siblings. That Trianna was

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really alive and waiting for Izzy to bring her to safety. It was why she generally didn’t let anyone close to her. If her own mother couldn’t love her enough to let her live her life the way she chose, then why should anyone else? But she felt surprisingly…free, like she’d just shed her burdens. Giving a mental shrug, she opened the truck door. Maybe now he’d give her some room, ’cause this whole working with a male sucked monkey balls. She wanted her girls back. They didn’t ask questions she didn’t want to answer and they didn’t get her all hot and bothered. Which would have just been weird anyway. She got out of the truck and started back to the house. She had work to do and people to…damn, she couldn’t call anyone back home! **** Grant watched Isola walk into his house like it belonged to her. If he had his way, it would. He stayed in the truck because he just couldn’t…let her know how much he hurt for her. She wouldn’t take his pity or compassion, not without punching him in the face for it. A small smile pulled at his mouth in spite of his inner turmoil. She was something else, his mate. Still, she carried a lot more pain than anyone would guess, and he hated that. No wonder she was so resistant to mating with him. She’d nearly been torn apart by a bear clan who’d thought she wasn’t good enough for them. Those scars she carried went a lot deeper than her skin, and Grant wondered if she’d ever trust him enough to let him heal her. Probably not, he thought with an ironic twist of his lips. He had attacked her in the woods. He banged his head on the steering wheel. He was an asshole. Now he’d have to work that much harder to prove he wasn’t some kind of beast—even though he was—with no other thought than fucking—even though it was mostly true. He had to prove to her he could be a valuable member of their partnership, someone she could

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lean on, someone she could trust, and fuck when she was ready. Smiling as the plan settled into place, Grant got out of his truck and headed to the house. He found Isola in the middle of his living room with his hamper of dirty clothes. She muttered to herself as she upended the basket. “Do you not wear underwear or something?” She glared over at him as she picked up a pair of his socks with a pair of tweezers. “My feet don’t stink,” he chided. “And nah, I don’t like ’em. They’re too confining.” He strolled over to flop in his easy chair. The way she eyed him in it told him she remembered exactly what he’d done in this chair last. His cock remembered, too. She shook her head and went back to sorting through his clothes. He should probably get up to help her, but some part of him liked watching her go through his laundry. It was kind of sad that he was so turned on by her picking through his laundry, but his beast knew Isola would be coated in his scent when she was finished. He smiled. “You could help me, LaMotta,” she muttered as she curled her lip at his work jeans. “What the hell do you do in this shit anyway? I thought you were an office geek.” Grant heaved a sigh and pushed out of his chair to join her in the middle of the room. “I do own a ranch and sometimes I have to, you know, work on it.” “Sarcasm is very unattractive in minotaurs.” He snorted. “Do you have cattle and stuff?” Grant gaped at her as he held one of his shirts. “What?” The glare she shot him was equal parts annoyed and embarrassed. “Did I stutter? I mean, what would you need a fucking ranch for anyway if you don’t have livestock?” “Okay, first of all, remember the conversation we had about me being an herbivore? I don’t eat meat of any kind, nor do I keep…full animals for slaughter”—he swallowed back bile—“or for anything else. I don’t judge people who do, but I don’t do it and neither does

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my father. Secondly, what would I need them for? I have four hooves that carry me when I need them to, a truck when I need to go further and a credit card when I need to go really far.” He glared at her. “Just because I’m not a ‘rancher,’” he said, using air quotes, “doesn’t mean I don’t work on my land. There’s always something to be done and I get dirty doing it. Is that okay with you?” She was silent for several minutes as she picked through his clothes. “You’re so sensitive. Sheesh.” Grant gaped at her, not sure how to respond. She thought he was sensitive? Ms. Don’t Want to Talk About Myself? Frustration boiled through his veins. He wanted to put her over his lap and spank her juicy ass, but he was trying—gods help him, he was trying—to ease his way into her confidence. He rolled his eyes skyward, praying for patience. Of course the damn woman didn’t stop there. Oh no, that would’ve been too easy. “Ask a simple question and get bitched at,” she muttered under her breath. “And men say women are hormonal! Ha! Hypocritical bastards.” Grabbing the nearest object at hand, which happened to be one of his socks, Grant balled it up and threw it straight at her. It unraveled as it flew through the air, coming to land with perfect grace on her head. Her hands paused on the jeans she was going through. She shook her head and the sock flopped on the bundle of clothing in front of her. He saw her lips twitch, but because her head was still tilted down, he couldn’t be sure if she was fighting a smile. “I should strangle you with your own jeans.” Then she paused, her hand on the jeans he’d worn the night of the attack. “I knew it!” She jumped to her feet and strode to the picture window, her eyes narrowing on the fabric in her hands. “We need to talk to Duffy and a witch.” As sorry as Grant was to see their play come to an end, he was relieved that she’d found something to point to his faulty memory. It

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was a relief to know he hadn’t lost his mind, although he was pissed at those little bitches for messing with him. Anticipation rolled through him. They would catch the nymphs and find out what the fuck was going on. **** Duffy didn’t want to see them. Izzy could see that from the way the demon lord’s face turned to stone the second they walked into his bar. There was a woman sitting at the bar, her doughy body encased in a pair of tight jeans and an even tighter sweater. She had to be the witch, not because of the way she was dressed, but because of the powerful magic that hovered in the air around her. Grant kept trying to walk in front of her as though he was trying to protect her from the duo at the bar, but Izzy was having none of that. With a sharp elbow to his ribs, she cut in front of him and sailed to the demon lord and witch with all the confidence in the world. “Duffy, how’s it hangin’?” she called out, her eyes on the witch who’d turned to look at her. Duffy rolled his eyes, but she could’ve sworn there was a smile just screaming to get out before he turned his attention to the witch. “This is Glenda. Glenda, this is the Amazon.” Glenda? Seriously? Izzy wanted to ask her how Oz was this time of year, but there was an expression in the witch’s face that told her it was something she’d been asked before. And Izzy did her damnedest not to be predictable. “’Sup, Glenda? Think you can tell us what the hell is up with this terror spell and the memory spell on the bull?” Grant came to stand next to her and from the corner of her eye, she saw him wince at her question. Yeah, whatever. He probably would’ve started chitchatting like they actually had time to play nice. It was much better to get to business right away. At least that was her story and she was sticking to it.

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The witch seemed surprised, but her silver eyes held grudging respect and approval. Bingo! Izzy knew exactly how to talk to people. Her sisters were insane to think otherwise. “I can feel the spell on you,” Glenda said softly. She cocked her head, her silver hair swinging over her face. “Whoever cast it is very powerful.” “Can you remove it?” She hadn’t realized how much she wanted the spell removed until the witch shook her head. Well, damn, there went her chance to torment Grant’s cousin without being scared shitless! “Only the spell caster can revoke it. Any attempt to tamper with the magic and it could kill you.” “Bummer.” Grant’s body was tense as though he could physically protect her, which she so didn’t need, but it was sweet anyway. She heaved a deep sigh. “What about the memory spell?” she asked as she waved Grant’s jeans at the witch. Duffy coughed into his fist, drawing her attention to Grant. His face was the color of a ripe tomato. “What? It’s just a pair of jeans. It isn’t like I stripped them off of you on the way over here or anything.” He shook his head, but his eyes promised retribution. She smirked back at him. The witch took the jeans from Izzy, pinching them between her index finger and thumb. Her nose twitched with distaste as she studied the clothing for a few moments before she handed it back to Izzy. “It’s definitely a memory spell. I think it was cast by the same person who cast the terror spell.” Izzy turned her attention to Grant. “You didn’t notice anything?” The minotaur shook his head, a frown pulling his eyebrows into a sharp V above his nose. “There weren’t any witches here that night.

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At least, I don’t remember there being any.” He looked over at Duffy. “Do you remember seeing a witch a couple of nights ago?” The demon lord frowned thoughtfully. “This is the night you lit out with those nymphs, right?” It didn’t seem possible, but Grant turned redder as he flicked a glance at Izzy. She did her best to keep her expression bland. Now that she’d spent some time with him, she didn’t like the idea of him planning a wild orgy with a bunch of nymphs, but yeah, whatever. He must’ve read that in her eyes because he winced slightly before turning back to Duffy. “Yeah, that night.” There was a loud, raspy sound as Duffy scratched his chin, his face flexed in thought. “Nah, didn’t see any witches.” So much for her theory! Izzy was pissed. “Son of a—” “But I did see a warmage earlier in the night,” Duffy continued in a steady drawl. He pinched his bottom lip. “Seem to recall he didn’t order nothing, which I found strange, but lots of strange types come in here.” She could’ve kissed him! “So is it possible for a warmage to cast these spells?” she demanded of the witch, who nodded. “Then we need to look for a bastard warmage.” Glenda stiffened, her silver eyes narrowing. This time it was Grant’s elbow that found her ribs, expelling a loud “oomph” from her. “Um, sorry. No offense.” The long-suffering sigh next to her ruffled the hair straggling out of her ponytail as Grant gave her a mock glare. “Is there any chance we can track the warmage through the spells?” Izzy rolled her eyes, but held her tongue since Glenda seemed really miffed. Apparently being blunt only took you so far. Go figure. “You could,” the witch replied slowly, her eyes on Izzy, “but it wouldn’t be wise. The spell on the Amazon has been in place for several weeks.”

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“What.” Izzy’s humor faded as she frowned at the witch. “That’s impossible. I just got here a couple of days ago.” Glenda shrugged. “That’s what I sense. The terror spell is firmly attached. You’ve had it for long enough that any attempt to remove it would kill you. The memory spell on the minotaur is newer, less…set in stone.” “Does that mean I might regain my memories if enough time has passed?” Grant demanded before Izzy could ask Glenda what the fuck she was talking about. She nodded her silver head. “Naturally. It would take days, possibly even weeks though.” “Shit.” “Times two,” Izzy agreed as she wondered where she’d picked up a friggin’ terror spell from. She massaged her temples. “Is that all you can tell us?” Glenda and Duffy glanced at each other, unspoken words passing between them. After a few seconds, Izzy was ready to scream when Glenda turned back. “If there’s a warmage involved in this…whatever this is, then watch your back. The spells are just the beginning of the game for them.” Well, duh. Izzy could’ve told them that, but once again bit her lip. Maybe she was learning self-control after all? It was a real bitch, that was for sure. All that restraining herself from jumping in with both feet. She sighed as Grant said their farewells. Once outside the bar again, Izzy stared up at the gray sky. Thick clouds on the horizon spoke of more snow. Yay, snow. Not. Grant was already at the truck, opening the passenger door for her. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but she suspected he’d do it anyway. Heaving another heavy sigh, she trudged to the truck. Once they were on their way back to the ranch, Grant broke the tense silence in the cab. “Where do you think you picked up the spell?”

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“I don’t know,” she said on a sigh after several minutes of contemplation. “I was involved in a lot of assignments back home before I was sent here. None of them involved warmages, but it isn’t impossible for a mage to cast a spell from a distance.” She gnawed on one of her fingernails thoughtfully. “What I don’t like is that the same warmage who got me, got you. The chances of that happening are astronomical.” He was frowning at the windshield, his hands steady and sure on the steering wheel. Izzy sighed and looked out her window. Yeah, he probably thought she’d pissed someone off. That’s when she remembered a very small, insignificant incident that happened three days before her exile went into effect. She must have tensed because Grant looked over at her. “What?” “Before I left home, I went to a party with my sisters. I drank a little too much and spent half the night being chatted up by a werewolf.” She could feel him glaring at her, but she was too caught up in her fuzzy memories to care. “Rosetta told me there was a dryad who glared at me all night. I didn’t think anything of it until now, but it’s possible she might have bought a spell to use against me.” Grant didn’t say a word, although with the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, she didn’t think she needed him to speak. Shrugging off his moodiness, she frowned in thought. “It’s entirely possible this warmage is a spell caster for hire,” she mused out loud. “That would make a lot of sense, actually. He wouldn’t give a shit who he waylaid with a spell and he’d be more mobile than someone with a vendetta.” That damned dryad! “I should’ve kicked that little dryad’s ass.” “Why? Because you wanted the werewolf all for yourself?” Izzy’s head whipped around so fast, she hurt her neck. “What?” That’s when she saw the jealousy in Grant’s face. His eyes had bled to black and his nostrils flared around his ring. He was so hot! She shook her head.

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“I was thinking more along the lines that the little bitch fucked me over with a spell,” she told him drily. Really, as if she’d want a werewolf! She snorted. No, the only shapeshifter she had on her mind was one she couldn’t have. He didn’t look appeased, but at least he didn’t pursue the subject further. It wasn’t like she was happy about the situation herself. Some stupid, jealous dryad had taken her one, secret fear and turned it into a debilitating weakness. She cracked her knuckles. Oh, yeah, when she got home…

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Chapter Seventeen It was damned hard to keep from snatching Isola close and showing her exactly who she belonged to. If she’d been any other woman, he might’ve done exactly that, but she was an Amazon with an attitude. She’d knock his head off if she knew what he was thinking. It wasn’t easy, though. Just the thought of her flirting out of boredom with another male was enough to make him see red. The logical part of his brain understood she hadn’t told him to make him jealous, she’d just wanted to explain where her thoughts were headed. He got that. He didn’t have to like it though. The rest of the ride to his house was silent and, on his part, angry. Isola seemed wonderfully oblivious to his mood, or she was just ignoring him. Sliding a look at her, he decided on the latter. She was very good at pretending she didn’t know he was sitting next to her and that annoyed the shit out of him. Braking in front of his house harder than he needed to, he ignored the indignant glare she sent him. Yeah, he was in a bad mood. “I need to do some chores,” he muttered as he slammed the truck door closed. “I should be back in a couple of hours.” Without waiting for her to respond, he headed for the barn at the back of his property. He needed some alone time where a man could think. A few hours turned into most of the night because he couldn’t bring himself to go near her yet. The need to conquer and possess rode him hard, warring with his logic. Even banging tools and equipment around didn’t help much and Grant had a feeling that the

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only that would make this need go away was to make Isola his own. Permanently. **** The next day, Izzy had to admit she was bored out of her mind. When Grant had taken off for his barn, he hadn’t appeared until nearly dawn. She’d gone to check on him a couple of times, but all the banging and cursing in the wooden building told her he was working. Now, whether he’d been working on an actual task or working off his moodiness, she couldn’t tell, but she’d left him alone. And people said she didn’t know how to give others space. It hadn’t been easy though. Really. Like this morning. When she’d stumbled into the living area, Grant was there looking as sexy and edible as ever. His smile had been a little tighter than usual, but it wasn’t enough for her to make a big deal out of it. Actually, there were so many things she liked about him, she wouldn’t have minded if he had glared at her all day. Because the minotaur was too fucking cute. For instance, he cooked breakfast, lunch, and dinner and didn’t expect her to help, which she wouldn’t have done anyway. Her idea of cooking was to grab a dozen candy bars and chow down. At home, food was cooked by the men paying their tithes and she never had to go near the cooking fire except to eat. It didn’t hurt that Grant was also a great chef. She called him a chef because Grant managed to cook meals without meat and made them so good she didn’t even notice the lack. Rosetta would laugh her ass off if she could see Izzy now. Then, as if it wasn’t bad enough that Grant was like this cooking guru, he was a hard worker. All day long, he’d sat in front of his laptop with his reading glasses perched on his nose and gone over expense reports, assignment case files, and the schematics of the upcoming Ball. Those glasses made him look like a naughty

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professor, and it took considerable willpower not to ask him to spank her. She shook her head and concentrated on something else. She…admired him. He was smart, efficient, and good-natured. She liked the way he dealt with his employees, being both stern and friendly. That assistant of his seemed too friendly in Izzy’s opinion, but Grant didn’t notice, so she didn’t say anything. Flipping through television stations, Izzy felt like a complete slacker compared to the minotaur. Of course, she was constantly fighting a raging case of lust, but that didn’t count for much compared to his accomplishments. He was a business owner, a very successful one who also kept his ranch in tip-top shape. She had trouble keeping up with oil changes on her car. She’d never thought herself as lacking in anything before, but she hadn’t met someone like Grant before either. Irritated at her thoughts, she tossed the remote to the side. Grant was on the phone with one of his employees. She was so fucking bored! She really wanted to take care of the itch being around Grant gave her. She was so fucking horny, she felt like a teenage boy on prom night. It was pathetic! Izzy eyed the room she considered hers. Her BOB was in there…if she could get Grant out of the house for a little while, she could handle up on this lust. Her nipples tingled at the thought of an orgasm. It wouldn’t be the same as getting an orgasm from Grant, but sometimes a girl had to make do with what she had at…her hand. But she needed Grant to leave. Izzy was loud when she was feeling perfectly fine. She was a screamer when she had an orgasm. So without fulfillment, she met Grant for lunch, trying to ignore how attractive he was and how much she wanted to go all cowgirl on him. The food was good, of course, but later, sitting across from Grant, she couldn’t remember a thing she ate. Grant shifted in his recliner, the same recliner he’d masturbated in three days before, not that she was thinking of it or anything. He wore

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those reading glasses perched on his nose as they tried to find a link between the kidnapping attempt and his company’s winning bid. The stubborn bull seemed to think that was the only reason someone would want to hurt him. Izzy knew better though. If the person after him was who she thought he was, Grant only had to have a passing acquaintance with someone of power and he’d be a target. Of course, being the owner of the security company in charge of the Ball meant Grant was in a very important position. He’d have the lives of some of the most prominent Veilerians in his care. That would be enough to make Ormond cream his pants. She couldn’t tell Grant any of that though. She’d taken an oath to keep any information she heard to herself and her word was her bond, which was why this bet killed her. If she slipped just once and begged Grant to do all the naughty things she kept thinking about, he’d have her. Shaking her head to clear it of yet another thought about Grant, his tongue, and her body, Izzy did her best to concentrate on the list, but a thought kept recurring. Looking up at Grant, who was even hotter with the reading glasses on his nose, she asked, “What about your employees? The guys you were drinking with that night?” He put the papers he was looking over down, slipping the glasses off his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yeah,” he said on a yawn. “I thought of that. There were four of us there that night, but they went out on assignment the next morning and it isn’t the kind of job that will allow me to call. I have to wait for them to come back from the field.” He stretched before settling back in his chair. “How long are we talking here?” “Let me think,” he yawned again, scratching his jaw. “They’re providing backup security for some vamp who works for a band. They’re touring right now, so it’ll probably be a few months before they get back.”

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Izzy slumped. “Yeah, that is so not gonna help us here. Are you sure you can’t call them?” The look he gave her suggested she have her head examined. “I’m not going to pull those guys off the job just because some nymphs tried to kidnap me.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “We’ll just wait to talk to Duffy.” “Joy.” Yeah, more waiting. She hated waiting. “Have you heard from your Cajun friend?” he asked offhandedly, though there was a deep current beneath his voice as though he really cared how she answered. “Nah, it’ll take him a couple of days to locate everyone and then they’ll have to get together to chat before they decide anything.” “I see.” The sound of his hand rasping across his jaw made her nipples tighten in spite of her worry. She was jonesing for the minotaur in a bad way. His nostrils flared and she knew he was scenting her arousal. Damned bull. The phone rang, breaking the tension. Grant reached over to answer it and Izzy breathed a sigh of relief. She was so going to take a break with BOB sometime today. As soon as the minotaur left the house, she promised her raging hormones. “Strickland.” Izzy could hear the panicked sound of a woman talking, more like shrieking, on the other end of the phone. Grant sighed deeply, swiping a hand over his face. “Yeah, Ma.” He paused, flicking a glance at Izzy that she couldn’t decipher. “Uh-huh.” “I don’t know if I can—” He sighed deeply, getting to his feet to pace around the living room. Izzy pretended to study the list when in fact she was staring at his tight ass as he stalked in front of her. Her mouth watered. He had the kind of ass meant to be gripped while he was pounding between a

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woman’s legs. Hello, nurse, she thought with an inward sigh. No, no! Bad Izzy! “Fine, fine, I’ll be there in a little while,” he sighed into the mouthpiece, irritation evident in his tone. “Tell Dad we’ll talk about this when I come over.” He faced away from her, one hand on his hip as he wrapped up his conversation. Light blue denim was meant to be worn by this male. Humming to herself, her mind positively swimming with images of what she could do to that ass, Izzy was slow to respond when Grant turned to face her. If she had been paying attention, she might’ve been able to control her expression. As it turned out, her gaze was level with the bulge in the front of his jeans that seemed to grow right before her eyes. Her body was flooded with liquid heat. Mm, mm, she thought, licking her lips. His mama might be a bitch, but she made one helluva stud. “…going to my dad’s ranch, do you want to come?” “Come? Oh yeah…” she moaned, biting her bottom lip. Grant’s body went completely still, though she could hear his breathing speed up. Her own heartbeat increased until they were both panting. Sweat gathered along her hairline as she watched that denimcovered cock move towards her. Oh yes, come to Izzy. He stopped several feet away from her with a surprised laugh. The laughter yanked Izzy out of her absorption with his tackle and she raised her eyes. Grant’s gaze was still hungry, though there was an underlying thread of amusement in his baby blues. “Did you just say ‘Come to Izzy?’” Gods, it was really hot all of a sudden. Oh, no, it wasn’t hot, she was fucking blushing like a schoolgirl! “No, I said ‘she’d have a hissy,’” Izzy said easily. Sometimes it was a good thing to be a bullshitter, except apparently when dealing with bulls because Grant laughed harder. “Dude, seriously, go to your mama and leave me in peace,” she insisted.

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They stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours to Izzy, but couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds. It was never a good thing to back away from a shifter unless you wanted to give them the right to walk all over you, and Izzy was no one’s doormat. Maybe in Grant’s case, she’d let him use her as a sex toy, but not a doormat. She’d seen too many good women ruined that way. “When I get back, you and I are going to have a serious talk,” Grant warned, his gaze holding hers as he traversed the room to the hook in the wall his keys dangled from. “I hate talking,” Izzy mumbled, not really lying. She hated talking when it actually meant anything. Senseless, meaningless conversation? She was so there, but when things were important, she was more of a doer. Which was probably one of the reasons she had control problems, she thought ironically. “Then I’ll do the talking and you do the listening, but we’re going to work some things out,” he insisted as he shrugged into a light jacket. Keeping his eyes on hers, he adjusted his cock in his jeans, sending the flames in her body even higher. “You won’t be disappointed, I promise.” With that cocky comment and a devastating smile, he was gone before she could reply. Izzy heard his truck start and snow crunch as he pulled away from the house. Sitting on the sofa in the quiet, she peered around. He was a security expert. She knew he had cameras in the house, and she wanted to find them before she looked for relief because she wouldn’t put it past the bull to spy on her while she played. Seeing nothing obvious, she came to her feet to wander around the house not so aimlessly. She found five cameras in the living room alone, two in the kitchen, one in the small hallway leading to the bathroom, and several hidden under the eaves of the veranda that wrapped around the house. But she wasn’t too worried about those. Oh no, she wanted to make sure she had privacy in her room.

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Sauntering back inside, she savored the warmth of the house and entered her room. She studied every nook and cranny, all the bric-abrac that she suspected might hold a camera, but found nothing. Standing next to her duffle bag, she slapped her hands on her hips. She could just bypass the little pleasure session, but she needed relief. Grant had her so revved up she suspected just imagining what it would be like to have him inside her would set her off. A smile of anticipation curved her lips as she opened her bag. BOB was probably going to need new batteries after she was finished with it. Izzy frowned a bit. It wasn’t where she normally packed it. It had to have rolled to the bottom of the bag while in transit. She threw the duffle bag on the bed and upended it. Clothes, weapons, toiletries, and shoes poured out of the bag. But no BOB. Her heart seized for a short moment. “No,” she mumbled as she sorted through her clothes and shoes. “It has to be here.” But no matter how much she tore her bag apart, there was no BOB. Body shaking with impending rage and hopeless sexual frustration, Izzy dropped to her knees in the middle of her bedroom. “No!” she howled at the ceiling. **** Grant sat in his mom’s kitchen sipping coffee and pretending to listen to his dad rant. The humongous vibrator he’d stolen out of Isola’s bag was sitting in the glove compartment of his truck. If he couldn’t have satisfaction, neither could she. This way they’d be miserable together until she finally saw the light. He’d smelled the change in her body, the ripening as it prepared itself for conception. It wouldn’t be long now. Mentally rubbing his hands together, Grant saw the path to his goal clear and free. Clear and free except for the bull-headed minotaur sitting across the table from him. Paul Strickland was nearly five hundred years old,

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though he didn’t look a day over forty-five. Sharp blue eyes, the Strickland eyes, weighed Grant’s every move and found him lacking. “Are you out of your ever lovin’ mind?” his father demanded for the fourth time in the half hour Grant had been at his parents’ house. “You’re a Strickland! We don’t bond outside the harem!” “Paul,” Arabella said softly, warningly when Grant didn’t bother hiding his brewing anger. “Maybe we should just talk about this.” Paul’s hand slammed on the table. “There ain’t nothin’ to talk about! I don’t know who this…this Amazon is, but she is not ruinin’ twelve generations of tradition!” Grant stared his father in the eye. He respected his dad, thought he was a good, hardworking minotaur who deserved an easy retirement, but no way in the nine hells was he going to stand down. “That Amazon is going to be my bonded mate until the day I die. You can accept it or not, it doesn’t matter to me.” “Oh, Grant,” his mother cried out, her hands pressed to her mouth. Paul’s face went from red to burgundy as his legendary temper soared. Black bled through the blue of his eyes until he was on the precipice of shifting. That was when a loud boom shook the house. Grant jumped to his feet, running for the front door. This house had stood the test of time: range wars, Indian wars, blizzards, and Strickland children. It had to be an earthquake threatening the foundation, he thought with a pang to his heart. He might have issues with his dad, but he loved his parents and their house. Again, the house shook, but this time the boom was accompanied by a gods-awful howling from the direction of the front door that made the hair rise on the back of his neck. Flinging open the door, he grunted as a big, female foot slammed into his stomach. “Son of a bitch!” he gasped, bending over in an attempt to alleviate the pain of Isola’s kick. “Where is it?” she roared, sinking her fingers in his hair and jerking his head up.

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“Where’s what?” “Where’s BOB?” she screeched, pulling his hair until tears burned his eyes. “What in tarnation is going on out here?” Paul shouted. His deep voice boomed, rattling Grant’s eardrums. “Who is this woman?” **** Izzy’s head swiveled until she pinned the old minotaur with a stare that had him backing up slightly. “My name is Izzy Malone, he stole BOB, he needs to prepare to die,” she snarled, twisting her fingers in Grant’s hair. Grant wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her tight enough to let her know he could hurt her if he wanted to. Normally, by this time in a fight, she would’ve sought to disable her opponent, but she was too damned pissed off to be nice. Reaching lower, she found one of his nipples and twisted. Hard. The bellow that issued from the minotaur’s throat soothed her fury somewhat. He’d done something with her favorite vibrator and until she got it back, she was going to make him regret ever seeing her. “See here, missy, you can’t just go around beating up people,” the old codger said, his voice calm yet reeking with authority. Big hands settled on Izzy’s shoulders, gently tugging her out of Grant’s bear hug, but she wouldn’t let go of his hair. “Now,” that deep voice said, satisfied. “Son, you kidnapped someone named Bob?” Grant glared at Izzy, so she stuck her tongue out at him. “I didn’t kidnap anyone.” Izzy snorted loudly causing Grant’s father—he had to be Grant’s father because they were spitting images of each other—to rear back in surprise. “It was theft, clear and simple.”

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“Now, now, you’re saying he stole someone named Bob?” the old coot asked, his eyes raking over her with intensity that made Izzy feel uncomfortable. “No, BOB isn’t someone,” she mumbled, finally untangling her fingers from Grant’s hair. He stood glaring at her from the other side of his father’s body, and she wanted nothing more than to eat him up. His hair was all mussed up, his shirt was wrinkled, and the glint in his eyes spoke of retribution. The old minotaur snorted. “What is it then?” She could feel her cheeks heating again. Damn minotaurs, she grouched inwardly, had some kind of knack for embarrassing her. “It’s a toy,” she muttered so low, she could barely hear it herself. “Eh? What’s that?” Grant’s face went from stony to smiling, the bastard. “It’s a toy.” That seemed to flabbergast the old bull because he let go of Izzy and scratched behind his ear. “I know you’re young, but ain’t you a little old for toys?” he asked her with all seriousness before turning to Grant. “This is what you want to give up a harem for? A girl who still plays with dolls?” “It isn’t that kind of toy, Pop,” Grant told his father with a smirk. “You do have it!” Izzy screeched and went for the minotaur again. She distinctly heard the elder minotaur say, “Not this again,” before she was pulled off the bull of her deepest, darkest dreams. “Grant, you go on inside and calm your ma down. I want to talk to this little lady.” Izzy bared her teeth at Grant as he passed by, the look in his eyes promised payback. She couldn’t wait. No, wait, she could wait. Grant practically smoldered, and she knew if she let him close, he’d use his considerable skills against her and Izzy wasn’t quite ready for that yet. Soon, she was on the porch of the old ranch house with Grant’s father who released her to sit in a rocking chair. The old minotaur had

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silver in his fair hair, few lines on his face, and the eyes of a sage. He seriously creeped her out, so Izzy sat on the railing with her arms crossed. They said nothing for several minutes, listening to Grant’s mom baby him in a high-pitched voice. Izzy cringed at the sound. Whoever Grant did mate with would have a helluva time with that cow-swan. The female just didn’t seem to realize her son was plenty old enough to take care of himself and, judging by the sounds coming from the kitchen, how to feed himself. Remembering the food he’d managed to cook for her, Izzy snorted earning her an inquiring look from the old minotaur. “Your mate smothers him,” she mumbled. Yeah, she was usually a lot bolder than this, but hell, she’d never had to deal with a father figure before. She wasn’t even sure who her father was, but there had been some rumor going around that the male had been a satyr. Izzy wouldn’t have been surprised if he were. She did have an extremely high tolerance for alcohol, Duffy’s liquid death notwithstanding. The old bull pulled a pipe out of his pocket and lit it. “Does she now?” he asked, rocking back. “And what does that matter to you?” “It doesn’t matter.” She leaned against the railing, crossing her ankles. “It just irritates me.” He puffed on the pipe, the scent of tobacco strangely sweet and soothing. “The name’s Paul, Paul Strickland,” he suddenly said, looking out over his land. “Been in these parts for four hundred and ninety-five years. Seen a lot of things in my time, but I’ve never seen my boy all worked up like that over a female.” Izzy sniffed and followed Paul’s gaze out to his land. It really was a beautiful piece of property, even covered in snow. Gently rolling hills with isolated clumps of trees here and there surrounded the Strickland home. The house was old, sturdy, and practical, which seemed to be the same attributes she could label Paul Strickland as. He was weathered and strong and plainspoken.

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“So how’d you get here anyway?” he asked on another puff. “I tracked him from his house.” Paul’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but she could tell he was impressed. It was pretty awesome, if she did say so herself. Grant’s parents lived a good fifteen miles from their son and he’d taken a vehicle while she’d jogged. Barely able to restrain the urge to buff her nails on her shirt, Izzy waited to hear what else the old goat would say. “So, you’re an Amazon, huh?” Fighting back the need to say “Duh,” Izzy nodded. “Yes.” “What’re you doing out here then? Ain’t been no Amazons in these parts for nearly thirty years.” Like she didn’t know that already, she thought with a mental eye roll. “I’m here for a little soul searching.” He chortled, the sound raspy. “Kicked you out, did they?” “Wh—How—?” Izzy couldn’t even finish a complete thought she was so shocked at Paul’s accuracy. Even more shocking was the sly wink he sent her. He craned his head to make sure no one was behind him before he leaned forward. “I used to pay my tithes to the Black Dog Tribe. Gladly, I might add,” he said with another chuckle, referring to the practice of males who offended Amazons by acting as manual labor or as sexual partners. “Spent most of my time down at that camp and learned a lot about you Amazons.” He sat back and puffed on his pipe some more. “Which is how I know you’re gonna drive that boy crazy and that’s exactly what he needs.” She almost fell off the railing, so surprised by Paul’s words. “What?” He nodded sagely, rocking in his chair. “That boy has had his whole life planned since the time he was three. Irritated me to no end, I can tell ya that. He’d set a goal and nothing would ever sway him from it. I tried everything,” he continued, a frown tugging at his face. “I made sure Ricky was around to keep the boy from being too

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serious, and he’d have fun, but he’d be right back to what he was doing.” “But I don’t want anything to do with him!” She felt as though she was living in an alternate universe. Since when did parents want their sons to fall in with lusty, sexy, troublesome Amazons? Paul laughed long and hard, until tears ran down his face. “Girl, you want that boy so much you’re almost vibrating with it.” Izzy gasped in outrage, which quickly turned to embarrassment as she realized Grant was standing in the doorway of his parents’ house, listening.

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Chapter Eighteen It had been his father’s booming laughter that brought an end to his mother’s pampering. She’d been in the process of buttering up some of her homemade biscuits for him. Her lips had thinned and tightened into a frown. His mother, for all her gentleness, was a very jealous female and knowing her mate was out on the porch with a beautiful, young Amazon pissed her off. “You will get that girl out of here before I stomp her ass into the ground,” his normally placid mom said as she bustled around her kitchen. “Yes, ma’am,” Grant said meekly, though he was fighting a laugh. Isola had the ability to piss off people known for their calm. He made it to the porch just in time to hear his father telling Isola she wanted Grant. The look of shock and horror on her face should have been enough to chill any man’s libido, but Grant was discovering a previously untapped streak of masochism. She would fight him tooth and nail, but it wouldn’t do any good. Regardless of what her head and past experience told her, she’d be his. Hell, even his dad recognized it. “Boy, you get this girl on outta here and give her her toy back,” Paul said as he came to his feet. He tapped his pipe on the rail before pocketing it. His big hand engulfed the top of Isola’s head as he ruffled her hair, leaving the sassy Amazon with her mouth hanging open. Clapping Grant on the shoulder hard enough to send a smaller man to his knees, he said in a low voice, “You’re gonna have a fine time trying to tame this one, but until you’re bonded, we’re having dinner with the Connellys tomorrow night.”

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Paul slipped into the house, where vicious pot and pan rattling from the kitchen warned that Arabella was not a happy cow at the moment. Grant stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at Isola. It looked natural and comfortable for her to be sitting on the railing of his parents’ home. It felt right, as though she belonged, but the expression on her face told him to ignore any attempts to coax her to his point of view. She glared at him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Your dad is certifiable.” “I’ve always thought so.” He was surprised his dad seemed to like her so well and wondered what else they’d talked about. “Did you bring your car?” “No, I ran over,” she mumbled as she hopped off the railing. “I was so mad I couldn’t find my keys.” A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth, but he held it back. He’d known taking her vibrator would send her into a fury, he just hadn’t expected it to send her running into the countryside after him. “I’ll give you a ride back to the house then.” She shrugged, though suspicion was bright in her chocolate eyes. Walking to his truck, he watched the way her ponytail bounced against her back. His mind tormented him with images of her hair doing that while she rode his cock, or the way her hair would spill around her shoulders as he feasted between her legs again. He held back a groan as she swept past him to get in the truck. Isola slammed the door shut and glanced at him through the window. Bracing his hands on the body of the truck, Grant snagged her gaze, letting her see all the hunger in his soul. Heat spiraled between them, the thin pane of glass the only thing keeping him from grabbing her. Those beautiful eyes dilated like a flower opening to the sun, holding Grant in thrall. “Isola,” he growled, his voice primal and low. She jerked back, her hands shaking as she pressed them to her cheeks. She violently shook her head, turning away from him. He

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wanted to throw open the door and fuck her, show her just how much she wanted him because he knew it equaled his own desire. Luckily for Isola and his parents, whom he felt watching them from the porch, Grant’s goal-oriented mind came to the rescue. If he took her now, she’d take off before they bonded. Forcing his body to calm enough to walk around the truck, Grant used that precious time to remind himself just how important the ultimate goal was. He needed this Amazon in his life forever, not just for now. If he gave into his lust, he’d lose her. He sat in the driver’s seat, calm and collected in spite of the spicy scent of Isola’s lust riding the air. His dick pounded for relief, but he started the truck as though nothing was wrong. The drive back to his house was silent except for the radio which was tuned into his favorite station. Music from the 90s crooned to them as they took the winding road between the ranches. The shortcut led them over the hills and rough terrain. Grant normally paid more attention to the potholes, but with Bell Biv DeVoe singing “Do Me!” and him picturing Isola saying the same thing, he was lucky to stay on the road at all. Arousal scented the air, hers and Grant’s, making for a heady mixture that amped him up. The spice of her body edging towards ovulation wreaked havoc on his ability to maintain control. His hands clenched on the wheel. He needed some fucking relief, he thought in agony. Another deep pothole had the inside of the truck rattling, and the tricky catch on his glove compartment reminded him of what was inside. The spark of a plan flared to life and he finally found a smile. **** Izzy sat as still as she could in the bouncing vehicle. Instinct, the same instinct that made prey run from predators, told her not to move for her own protection and for once she listened. Gods, the look in his eyes when he’d stood on the other side of the door had left her with

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soaked panties. Scorching heat sizzled through her body at the memory of his eyes slowly bleeding to black. He wanted her, of that there was no doubt. And gods knew she wanted him something awful. As she braced herself against the dashboard to keep from bouncing into his lap, she puzzled over how badly she’d screwed herself with this minotaur. He’d taken her vibrator, so the only relief she’d be finding would be from her hand unless she relaxed her stance against him. The only problem with that was the bet they’d made. If she begged him, even in the throes of passion, he’d hold her to her end of the deal. Her own honor would demand that she fulfill the bond and then she’d be stuck. Shuddering at the thought, she bit her lip, shooting him a quick glance. He looked to be in complete control in spite of the massive bulge straining his zipper, a sight that left her panties even wetter. Looking away again, she tried to focus on the scenery, but all she saw was having that cock at her beck and call. Before she knew it, they were screeching to a stop in front of Grant’s house and he was halfway across the cab, hungry intent in his blue-black eyes. Squeaking in surprise, Izzy fell, her back against the door as Grant hovered over her. His nostrils flared and she felt another rush of dampness between her legs. He growled softly, the sound zinging through her body to her clit. Izzy shivered, watching him warily. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Isola,” he rumbled, leaning closer until his breath rasped against her neck. “I’m gonna make you come until you scream for mercy. We clear?” She shook her head, desperate to ignore the hormones raging at her to accept his mastery. His answering smile was both beautiful and cruel. He didn’t give her a chance to attempt an escape, simply captured her lips in a kiss that sent her senses reeling. She softened under his assault. His tongue flicked at her mouth, demanding entrance, which she willingly gave.

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It was their first kiss, and damn, he was good at it. He didn’t try to stuff his tongue down her throat. Oh, no. Grant was cleverer than that. He teased her with short forays into her mouth until she panted with need, her tongue following his back into his mouth. The taste of Grant overwhelmed her. He was sleek and deadly, powerful and delicious. She whimpered in the back of her throat, not even noticing when he swiveled her body around on the seat until she was pinned beneath him. He leaned back, his breathing harsh and fast. Hunched and kneeling on the seat, he positioned her legs so one was draped over the back of the driver’s seat of the king-size cab and the other was braced against the dashboard. If she weren’t still wearing her pants, she would be completely open and vulnerable to his eyes. The heat in his gaze told her he was aware of the same thing, and another dangerous smile touched his mouth. “You don’t think you’re safe, do you, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft voice. Before she could blink, he had a knife in his hand and sliced through the legs of her jeans. Her pussy clenched. She was a sick, sick woman. **** Grant was nearly out of his mind with need. The look in her eyes was something he wanted to see for the rest of his fucking life. She sprawled on the seat of his truck, one hand plastered against the windshield, the other gripping the headrest of her seat. Her legs were wide open, the scent of her desire swirling around his head like a drug. Gripping the edges of her jeans, Grant ripped them all the way up the seam to her crotch until the denim fluttered around her waist. Those miles and miles of long legs bare and spread made Grant

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lightheaded and that was before he got a glimpse of the saturated cotton of her panties. He wanted to howl in triumph, beat on his chest like some primate, all because Isola was soaking wet for him. Instead, he slid his hands up her legs, relishing the silk of her skin, finding the slight scars that marred her legs. She’d fought hard all of her life and it showed on her body, but it brought him nothing but pleasure. She was a strong woman who could easily stand on her own. She didn’t need someone to take care of her, protect her, which meant when she stayed with a man it was because she wanted to. And Grant had every intention of being the man she wanted to stay with. “Grant,” she croaked, shaking her head. “We can’t do this.” Her brain was still denying what was happening, but her body softened beneath his touch, her nipples hardening for him. He ignored her words and slid both hands to frame her mound where the heat of her nearly seared him. She gasped, her eyes wide, and latched onto him. He brushed his thumbs over the dampened material of her panties, stroking the rigid nub of flesh beneath the cotton. Hooking his fingers in the crotch of her undies, Grant ripped them off of her, letting the material fall to the floor of his truck. Humming with satisfaction as she was bared to him, he bent himself nearly in half to taste her. There was a thunking sound as Isola’s head met the glass behind her, but he didn’t bother checking on her. His entire focus was on the tight, wet pussy between his hands. He speared his tongue into her entrance, moaning at the salty, sweet taste of her. Her hips arched towards him, seeking more, which he was more than happy to give. Small, fluttering licks along her swollen lips led him to her clit. As he worked that nubbin of flesh, his hand reached blindly for the glove compartment. Her gasping moans drove him crazy, but she hadn’t lost herself to pleasure, not yet, and he was determined to brand himself on her psyche. When she thought of desire, Grant wanted her to think of him.

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He found what he was looking for without breaking away from her sweet flesh. His tongue dipped down for one last taste of Heaven as his hand busily prepared his surprise. Isola was gasping louder, one of her hands finding its way to the back of his head to hold him in place. Her strong legs tensed as though she were about to lock him against her, so he quickly pulled away from her. “Bastard!” she roared, the hand on the back of head suddenly grasping his hair. “Make me come!” Smiling with pleasure, he said, “Gladly.” Her eyes widened as she finally heard the buzzing sound of her vibrator. “No!” she gasped, trying to squirm away, but Grant wasn’t about to let her go without making her come once or a dozen times. Grasping her hip in one hand, he guided the toy to her entrance. Trust Isola to buy the biggest toy she could find. The damn thing was only a couple of inches smaller than he was, and nearly as thick. He supposed that was a good thing because at least using it on her would prepare her body for him when they finally consummated this raging chemistry between them. Grant knew his smile wasn’t nice, but he couldn’t hold it back. Isola was in his power and panting for what he would give her. Even so, she squirmed in his hold, but Grant didn’t falter, sliding that thick, vibrating cock into her. Gods, watching the bright purple toy press open her folds, watching the way her back arched as she took it into her body was enough to make him lose his mind. “You wanted your toy back,” he told her, though his head and his cock both felt as though they were going explode. “I’m just giving you want you want, baby. But best remember: this is the only way you’ll ever get to use it.” With the warning out of the way, he set his strength of will to making her come harder than she ever had before. Swiveling his hand, he rotated the vibrator just inside her entrance, earning a mewl of want from her throat.

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She tugged his hair, this time mindlessly as her hips arched up to take the entire length and Grant lost it. **** Izzy swam in sensation, her body seeking it out even as her brain told her to stay away, but there was no contest. Grant had worked her up so much she thought she might go insane. And he continued to work her, this time with BOB, and the man knew what he was doing. He fucked her with the toy, hunched over her as he brought her to the peak again and again. The fierce concentration on his face told Izzy her orgasm was his latest short-term goal. She didn’t mind, not right now at least. Her hips moved with each thrust of his hand, the toy vibrating against her in just the right places. She was deaf and blind, all of her senses centered on where Grant was playing her like a fiddle. Tension swept through her body coming to roost in her womb where it exploded outward. “Gods!” she screamed, head flung back as she rode the waves of her orgasm. Grant never stopped fucking her, ramping up the vibration on BOB as he continued thrusting it inside her. Harsh, heavy breathing accompanied by whimpering cries finally intruded on Izzy’s brain. She was making those sounds, she was the one nearly pleading for release, but that realization was lost as she came yet again. This time black dots danced before her teary eyes and Grant met her frantic gaze. **** She was so beautiful when she came. Her entire body shook with the pulsing aftermath of her climaxes, her face streaked with tears from her release. His cock throbbed painfully against the fly of his jeans, but he wouldn’t have given up this chance to see her like this.

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Gently sliding the sopping wet toy from her sensitive flesh, Grant’s cock jerked at her soft exhalation. Her legs slid down until he was surrounded by her. Head lolling back against the window, Isola was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. Wrapping the vibrator in a tissue to be cleaned later, Grant couldn’t help but grin at it. Who would’ve thought he’d have so much fun playing with a woman’s vibrator? Of course, if the woman was Isola, he was positive anything could be fun. “You,” she moaned. Her voice was hoarse from her screams. “Mm, you are so dead, LaMotta.” As a threat it lacked conviction. Grant turned so he faced her and leaned against his own door. He wasn’t comfortable, not by a long shot. His cock felt like it was going to erupt. There was no comfort with it pulsing beneath his zipper. “You didn’t enjoy that?” He wanted to rip his jeans off and fuck her, make her forget about anything but his cock. He glared at the vibrator, feeling more than a little jealous of the thing. Gods, he was pathetic. She hummed softly, her breathing slowly evening out as her face relaxed. He wanted her just like that in his bed except without all the clothes. Shit, he hadn’t even taken her shirt or bra off to play with her nipples. Cursing under his breath at the thought of how hard they’d be, he shifted in his seat. Her eyes drifted open, nailing him to the driver door. There was wicked intent brimming in the chocolate brown depths. She let her gaze wander over his face, down his chest, until it settled on the bulge in his jeans. His cock throbbed. It knew she was staring at him. “You probably think you’re hot shit now, don’t you?” Her tone was conversational as she straightened into a seated position, her legs closing and blocking his view of the most perfect pussy he’d ever seen. “You think you’ve won me over.” Grant shook his head. “I never said that.”

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“You’re thinking it,” she stated, tucking her legs beneath her as she moved closer. “I may not have had a lover in a while, but I know when a man is making plans, Grant Strickland, and your eyes are filled with them. You’re trying to come up with some strategy that’ll leave me barefoot, pregnant, and cooking for you.” Again he shook his head. “I don’t want any woman barefoot and pregnant, and if you don’t like to cook, that’s fine.” She snorted, crawling over the seat towards him. “You think I’ll give in, let you fuck me, and bond with you. You’re trying to trick me into giving up my freedom.” Grant opened his mouth to respond and closed it just as quickly. Was he thinking she’d give in? Um, no. He was praying she’d give in and let him bond with her. But there was one thing he absolutely refused to take from her. “I don’t want you to give up your freedom either, Isola,” he explained softly. “I admire you for who you are, the way you are now. I just want to be a part of that.” Then she was in his face, her eyes angry and hot. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You think you could handle mating an Amazon?” she growled, her gaze drifting down to his mouth. She licked her lips. “You’re used to cow-swans who bend over backwards to accommodate males. You don’t know what to do with a strong woman, which I am.” That pissed him off. “You think I’m scared of you, Isola? Is that what it is?” Her beautiful lips curved into a dangerous smile. “Oh, baby, if you’re not scared of me yet, you will be,” she taunted just as she settled her mouth over his. Grant was surprised she was willingly kissing him, but as she plundered his mouth, he knew she was going to show him how a strong woman made her man behave. Almost giddy with delight, he let her take the lead, let her think she was in complete control. His heart hammered. Damn, he couldn’t wait to see what she’d do to him!

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**** Izzy was playing with fire, but since she was a closet pyromaniac, that was nothing new. Although she had to concede this fire could do a lot more than burn her, it could break her heart. The minotaur was relaxed against the door, his breathing measured and steady. He almost seemed completely calm, except the thick bulge pressing against her belly told a different story. In two days he’d given her two of the most powerful orgasms of her life and hadn’t asked for anything in return. He’d brought himself to climax at least once and though it had been a sight for sore, horny eyes, she hadn’t done it to him. He was so confident he could control her with sex, so confident he could break her will to stand alone that he didn’t think Izzy was more than capable of reducing him to a puddle of goo. Hell, it might’ve been a long time, but some things a woman never forgot. So she kissed him, tasted him, recognizing herself on his lips which made her wetter than before. Her body hummed with relaxed delight. She could have been a bitch and left him hanging, but Izzy liked to give as good as she got. And she planned to make Grant beg for her. He didn’t try to take over the kiss, though he participated, following her lead. Izzy stroked her hands up his rock-hard thighs, enjoying the sensation of heat beneath soft denim. Grant made a soft sound in the back of his throat that set her nipples to throbbing. Oh, he definitely thought he had her eating out of his hand. She bit his bottom lip just as her hands found his cock. He jerked against her, his breathing picking up pace. Pulling back to sit on her knees, Izzy had to smile at the sight of his eyes bleeding to black again. His arms were spread across the truck, in almost the exact same position hers had been in. He was letting her control this encounter. Happy and pleased, Izzy decided to reward him.

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Holding his gaze, her hands found the button at the top of his jeans, flicking it open. The backs of her fingers grazed the hot, hard muscles of his belly, muscles that contracted beneath the light touch. Easing his zipper down, she was rewarded with his cock as it practically leapt from the cradle of his jeans. Izzy didn’t bother keeping her admiration quiet. “Gods, Grant,” she said in a voice gone two octaves lower. “This is the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.” And she wasn’t lying either. She’d seen him before, but that had been across a room and his hands were bigger than hers, so she hadn’t really been able to judge well. He was thick, her fingers barely able to wrap all the way around him and she tried, earning a ragged moan from him. He was also long, and the phrase “hung like a bull” fit him to a tee. Both of her hands fisted together weren’t enough to cover his length. Her womb rippled with the onset of another orgasm. “Isola,” he gasped as she squeezed him. “What.” She frowned with concentration at the hot flesh burning her hands. She didn’t know where to start with him because she had so many ideas. “I’m going to come,” he breathed as she stroked him experimentally. “Not yet.” His hips twisted as he thrust into her hands. “Yes, now.” “I haven’t decided what I want to do yet.” She pondered taking him into her mouth. She wouldn’t be able to take all of him, but gods, what fun it would be to try! “Make. Up. Your. Mind,” he growled as a pearl of pre-cum wept from his slit. Izzy glanced up in irritation. He was not allowing her enough time to properly decide how she was going to attack the massive cock in her hands and it was pissing her off. “Fine.”

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Then she leaned over, surrounding the crown with her mouth, sucking on that plum-sized flesh hard. He shouted, his hands grabbing her ponytail. Izzy purred at the salty taste of Grant’s seed. She lowered her head, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. It wasn’t enough, but she may as well have deep-throated him by the way he reacted. He roared, his hips pumping up as she suckled him as deep as she could. His hands jerked on her ponytail, pulling her away from him slightly as he came in great, pulsing jets Izzy swallowed greedily. Her inner muscles fluttered with a phantom orgasm from the intensity of her want for this male. **** “Gods,” Grant whispered as Isola finished taking all he had to give. He was wrung out and embarrassed. She’d barely put her mouth on him and he came. That wasn’t how things generally worked for him. He was a male with great control, yet this Amazon had him coming like a pre-transitional calf! The look on her face was pure triumph and arousal. He could get used to watching her suck him off, but maybe after a couple hundred years. He’d probably need a century or two to get used to her power over him. Power she knew she had. They were the perfect couple, he thought in drowsy contentment, because he had awesome power over her as well. She sat up, pushing away from him to her original spot in the passenger seat. Her hair straggled out of her ponytail. It had been far too tempting to hold onto it as a handle to guide her mouth on him, but he’d managed not to until the very end. Again, he’d leave that fantasy alone until he had more control. Though she still glowed with the remnants of her orgasm and triumph over his loss of control, Isola was closed off from him. He saw it clearly and resented it deeply. Heaving a sigh, he carefully

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tucked his hardening cock back in his jeans and fastened them again. There wouldn’t be a repeat any time soon, he thought with a huff of irritation. “Stop huffing and puffing,” she ordered as she stared out the window at his house. “You started this.” “Yeah, but you had two orgasms,” he pointed out pettily. “So? I’m a female. It’s a fringe benefit for having to put up with stupid males.” Grant’s lip curled as he studied her cold profile. “You could at least do it to be polite.” “I don’t think so, Raging Bull,” she said with a snort. “Nowhere on this body does it say ‘Grant Strickland’s sex slave.’” “That can be remedied,” he grunted as he turned in his seat. “I knew it!” she snarled, throwing open her door and jumping out of the truck. “I knew you were trying to trap me!” The door slammed closed, and Grant went into a rage. He got out, stomping up the stairs to the porch after her. “You don’t know shit, Isola. You’re so busy running scared you don’t know a good thing when you see it.” That stopped her in her tracks and made her pivot to face him. “A good thing? Is that what you call it? When you’ll keep me from being with my sisters? When your mother hates me and your dad thinks I’m nothing but a new toy for you to play with? What happens when your sisters join in the fun, Grant? Will they wait for me to explain that I don’t want this, or will they stampede me immediately, huh? Huh?” She was screaming. Grant stared at her, not sure what to make of her accusations. He understood her fears after hearing her story about her mother, but she couldn’t honestly think he would do the same thing to her. He tried to hold back the question, but it slipped out. “Are you insane?” Isola’s face, which was red before, slowly turned vermillion, her dark eyes sparking with gold flecks. Holy hell, she was pissed!

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“Insane?” She hissed softly. “Is it insane, or is it called being smart? I’ve seen too many women get trapped by males who destroy their self-worth. Been there, done that, got the metal plate in my head from it.” Once again, Grant was struck speechless. “A metal plate?” he asked, completely baffled. She gave him a superior smile and turned on her heel. “You wouldn’t understand,” Isola tossed over her shoulder as she entered the house. Damned right he didn’t understand, Grant thought as he stared at the empty doorway. What had started out as a good day had turned into a nonstop rollercoaster of lust, ridiculousness, and outright insanity. He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. Slowly, a smile crossed his face that he couldn’t hide. Isola might be the craziest woman he’d ever met in his life, but she gave head that made a man nearly faint like a romance book heroine. Chuckling at the thought, Grant went inside, not surprised to see no sign of Isola. He probably wouldn’t see her for the rest of the day, but that was fine. Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, he headed for his laptop. It was good to be the owner of a security company. Isola was about to be thoroughly investigated.

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Chapter Nineteen RosettaLynn U ho! Izzylicious Ur a ho! Remember Bruce “The Bull Moose”? RosettaLynn He wasn’t a real bull tho. Izzylicious Could’ve sworn he was with the way you carried on RosettaLynn He’s a bull, gf! Walking steak. Izzylicious Never said it was 4ever. RosettaLynn That’s not the impression Fallon gave us… Izzy frowned at Grant’s laptop screen, letting the cursor blink as she tried to think of the right thing to say. Grant dozed on the sofa across the room, giving her privacy to contact her best friend, but this conversation was uncomfortable even via direct messages on Twitter. She hadn’t talked to him after the truck incident and he hadn’t tried talking to her either. If she was being honest, she was kind of disappointed. Did he no longer want her after what happened? Or had it been so long since she’d given a blow job that she was horrible at it? Tapping her fingers on the desk, she thought over her technique. No, she was pretty sure she’d done a good job. He seemed to have enjoyed it. RosettaLynn U scared? Grousing under her breath, she set her fingers on the keyboard and typed furiously.

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Izzylicious U should be scared for when I get my hands on u! RosettaLynn U R scared! Am telling @SagaBaby “No!” she shouted at the screen, frozen in horror. If Rosetta told Saga, her friend and mentor would be all over it like white on rice. Of course, Rosetta couldn’t hear her, and with the phone ban, Izzy was reduced to yelling at Twitter. “Problem?” a deep voice rumbled from across the room. “No.” “You say that word a lot.” She saw long, muscled arms lift over the back of the sofa. Then a tousled blond head appeared. Grant was too sexy for her peace of mind when he first woke up. The damn bull looked good at any time, she thought with a mental sigh as she logged off Twitter and shut down the computer. Grant hadn’t exactly given her permission to use his laptop, but since he didn’t say anything, Izzy figured they had an unspoken agreement. She’d just have to try talking to Rosetta later that night when Grant was taking his shower. Ignoring her funk, Izzy strode to the bathroom without looking at the minotaur on the sofa. Cleaning herself over the bathroom sink was getting old fast. She hadn’t taken a complete shower since the previous morning. She didn’t smell bad so much as she just felt gross. Izzy was an Amazon who loved her showers, but not when she had to share them with the one male who made her lose her mind. Slamming the bathroom door behind her, she slumped against the door. Not only was Grant acting like he didn’t want her anymore, but no one was giving her information on what was going on back home. Fallon hadn’t returned, and though Rosetta chatted about the camp, she hadn’t mentioned what was happening with Grant’s situation. Izzy’s eyes burned, but she held back the tears. She’d effectively cut off her tribe with her actions, intentional or not. It was like they

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didn’t trust her to do what she needed to, and she supposed they had a valid reason. She hadn’t exactly gone out of her way to show she was responsible. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, Izzy took a deep breath. A knock vibrated through the door. “Hey, you’re not showering without me, are you?” “Gah!” She kicked the door with her heel and stomped off to her room. Throwing herself facedown on the bed, she tried to ignore her hormones and Grant, who’d entered the bathroom behind her. She should’ve been well-sated after the intense session in his truck yesterday, but her body ached for more. And she couldn’t find relief since she couldn’t have BOB without Grant and she couldn’t even take a shower alone. She was going insane. “Babe, really. You should shower,” he stated from the doorway behind her. “I won’t touch you. Much.” Izzy screamed into the bedspread before rolling over in a fit of fury. “You’re making me crazy! Crazy!” Godsdamn him, he looked delicious. She idly wondered if he was closet exhibitionist because he never wore shirts around the house. Not that she really minded ogling his bare torso, but a woman could only take so much before she snapped. And Izzy was closer to snapping than she’d ever been in her lifetime. He rubbed a hand over his chest, the rasp of his callused palm over his hair-roughened skin sending pulses of desire through her system. “I think you’re too uptight.” She bounced to her feet in complete outrage. “I am not uptight! I’m the Amazon Most Likely to Be Arrested!” She poked a hard finger into his chest with every word. “I’m the life of the fucking party, Raging Bull, and don’t ever forget it.” One of his eyebrows rose skeptically. He shook his head, his expression both sad and humoring. “Of course you are.”

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Snarling with frustrated desire and just…frustration, Izzy tore her shirt off while kicking her boots off her feet. Uptight,” she muttered as she wrestled with the laces of her leather pants. “Asshole bull thinks I’m uptight? I’ll show his ass.” The pants fell to the floor next to her shirt and boots. Izzy unfastened her bra and stalked past Grant into the bathroom. He didn’t move except to follow her with his eyes. She turned the shower on, slapping back the curtain and ripped off her panties. “Well? Are we taking a fucking shower, or what?” **** Grant thanked the gods because they’d made them both paranormal beings in peak condition. Then he sent a mental thank-you to his parents for giving him excellent eyesight and the temperament to put up with a crazy Amazon who made him hot. Lastly, he thanked Isola’s parents because her body was perfection, even if her attitude was abrasive. He’d known acting cool towards her would put her in a bad mood, and though it had been hard on him as well, the results were astonishing. The background check he’d done the night before yielded very little concrete information, but it was enough to tell him Isola was used to walking away before she was rejected or hurt. No one left that many tribes in the amount of time she had unless they were dealing with some major issues. What he wondered was why no one had noticed before, but he supposed her flighty attitude did a lot to mask her true reasons for moving around. They really should be working, but they were both too uptight. Justifying his need for her as stress relief, he slid his belt out of the loops, flinging it across her room. She shot him a dirty look that held more heat than she was probably aware of before she stepped into the shower. Not wanting to

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waste a minute of the experience, Grant tore the rest of his clothes off. He didn’t care that he’d had a shower just two hours before. Pulling back the curtain, he was awarded with the sight of Isola’s head tilted back as water cascaded over her delicious body. His mouth watered. Had it only been yesterday that he’d brought her to gutwrenching climax? It felt like a lifetime. He stepped in the shower in front of her, struck mute by the glory of her pebbled nipples with water shining like diamonds on them. Grant swallowed a groan, on the verge of embarrassing himself. Her hands were scrubbing her hair leaving those delicious mounds unprotected. He peeked at her face. Her eyes were closed. One hand rose to catch a drop of water as it threatened to fall from her breast. “Touch me and you’ll pull back a nub, bull boy.” Grant snatched his hand back, guilty color rising in his face. It was an effort to drag his eyes from her breasts, but hers remained closed as she rinsed. Damn Amazon instincts, he silently grumbled as he squirted soap into his hand. They washed in silence though Grant spent more time watching Isola’s hands run over every inch of her body. She acted as though he wasn’t in the small space with her, washing herself quickly and efficiently. He was scared to wash anywhere below his waist for fear that he’d go off like a rocket. Isola didn’t have the same problem. The minute she dragged the washcloth down her abdomen to the apex of her thighs, Grant’s brain shut down. Her gaze snapped to clash with his as though she dared him to say something. She didn’t have to worry because he wasn’t sure he could do anything as remotely complicated as talking. She didn’t linger, she didn’t attempt to seduce. The washcloth dipped between her legs and was gone in a matter of seconds, but it may as well have been hours of foreplay because Grant was a goner. His cock throbbed, pearls of cum beading at the tip. His body was tight with vicious need.

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Then she slipped on the floor of the tub and scrambled to catch herself, but not before the silken skin of her hip grazed his cock. Just like that, Grant exploded, his seed pumping furiously on the bathroom tiles. Heart thundering with relief and embarrassment, he groaned, slumping against the corner of the shower. He closed his eyes and banged his head on the wall. Gods, what was he? Twelve? He’d never lost control like that. He only hoped she either hadn’t noticed—not much luck of that since he’d creamed on her leg—or that she wouldn’t say anything. Grant knew he was doomed because the day Isola Malone wouldn’t say something inappropriate was the day she agreed to be his mate. **** Izzy stared at her leg and the stream of seed that burned a path over her skin. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Her stomach fluttered like she’d swallowed a Mexican jumping bean. She wanted Grant. She couldn’t dispute that, and judging by the agonized groaning and cursing, he wanted her so much he could barely control himself. A small smile danced around her mouth. She’d been so worried that he’d seduce her she hadn’t given any thought to accidentally seducing him. Her eyes drank him in and she had to grip the curtain to stay on her feet. He was wet, his hair stuck to his shoulders in long trails of dark blond silk. His massive chest bellowed as he fought to regain his breath and his cock, half-erect in spite of his orgasm, looked as though it was ready for another round. Her body flooded with warmth that had nothing to do with the water raining over her head. It was so easy to pretend she could resist him when they were both somewhat clothed and in a large room. It was a completely different matter when they were both stripped bare in a shower together. She

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wanted Grant, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything else. “Gods, Isola, I’m—” He stopped, his voice tight and angry. His eyes were squeezed closed, his face drawn into a grimace of displeasure. “I’m so sorry.” He didn’t wait to hear her reply, throwing back the curtain to escape the shower. Izzy scrambled after him and was rewarded by the sight of Grant drying his body with long, rough strokes that sent lust rushing through her. He was angry and guilty and utterly adorable. Not even wondering where her willpower had gone, she crossed the room and slipped her arms around his waist. His body went rigid as she pressed her body into his back. “Isola.” His voice held warning, danger, and arousal. She shivered, her hardened nipples poking into the satiny muscles of his back. “Shh,” she breathed against his skin. “Just relax.” He shuddered, bracing his hands on the counter in front of him. Peering over his shoulder, Izzy saw that his eyes were closed, the long lashes resting against his cheeks in an expression that would’ve been innocent if it hadn’t been for the stark lust on his face. Her hands were in a completely innocent spot, resting against the middle of his stomach, but that wasn’t where she wanted them to be. She pressed open-mouthed kisses against his shoulder as she stroked her hands over his rippling abdomen. His cock thrust high and proud. She nipped a small piece of skin as her right hand grasped the prize. They both groaned as her fist enclosed him. His head fell back and his lips parted as he dragged in a deep breath. The feel of him hard, hot, and silky made Izzy’s thighs clench with need. Her left hand slipped further down to cradle his balls, rolling them in her palm. She rested her forehead in the middle of his back, her breathing raspy and fast. She wanted him so much. She squeezed her hand around his cock, dragging a shuddering moan from deep within his chest.

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“Isola,” he groaned as she began to stroke him. “Gods, woman!” One of his big hands came up to clasp her more firmly around him, showing her the cadence he liked. Izzy hummed in pleasure, letting her brain flash pictures of what they looked like. Dampness coated her thighs, desire threatened to buckle her knees. “Faster.” His voice sent vibrations through her as he spoke. “Harder.” Biting her lip to stop a groan from escaping, she did as he asked, as he coaxed her faster with his hand. Soon his hips were thrusting into her downward strokes, moisture from his bulging tip providing lubrication for her hand. He was panting loudly, his hips churning in a frenzied rhythm she could barely keep up with. Then he let go, his seed bursting from him as he yelled to the ceiling. She felt every shudder, every burst of essence as it passed through his cock. Her legs felt weak, but she remained standing, not wanting him to know how much he affected her—as though he didn’t already have a clue, she thought with a roll of her eyes. She could smell her own arousal in the air and Grant, being a shifter, would’ve smelled it long before she did. He slumped forward, catching himself on the counter again as the last of his seed pulsed from his body. His body was a furnace and she eagerly pressed her cool, damp skin to his. Not that she was exactly cold, but he felt wonderful. She finally released his cock, somewhat reluctant to do so. It had felt…right in her hand, as though it was hers. Sliding her hands up his waist again, she gave him a tender squeeze. Maybe it was hers, she wondered as she pressed a kiss to his spine, maybe Grant really was her mate, a true Amazon mate. She stilled, her heart stuttering to a stop before galloping off again. Not every Amazon found her mate, but when they did, it was well known that she would brave the nine hells to keep him. Izzy hadn’t quite reached that point with Grant, but it was a near thing. Her body

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ached for him, but it wasn’t just sex, or at least not all about sex. She liked him. He was stubborn, funny, and loyal to his family. She was shaken out of her self-realization when Grant spun around, catching her around the waist with one thick arm. Turning again, he planted her on the countertop, his body shoved between her legs. His mouth ravaged hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth to tangle with hers. Fireworks went off throughout her body. The dusting of hair on his chest abraded her nipples with just the right amount of pressure to leave her panting for more—if she could breathe. Grant sucked the air right out of her lungs, breathing it back into her as he refused to let her mouth go. His hands weren’t idle either. They roamed her back, tracing delicate patterns over the scars there before heading to her ass. Cupping her in his hands, he lifted her, grinding her exposed sex against the base of his belly. When he finally released her mouth, Izzy was rubbing her clit against his skin, wanting, no needing, release. He chuckled darkly as his hands left her ass to scoop up her breasts for his pleasure. Throwing her head back, she cried out as he tortured the sensitive flesh with his teeth. He wasn’t rough, and that was the problem. Grant nipped. He teased. He grazed and nibbled, but he never bit when a bite would have sent her over the edge. Then he put his tongue into the equation. The first swirl of his talented tongue sent convulsions of rapture through her womb. He laved her nipple with long, slow drags. His tongue danced around her peak before he settled his mouth on her and suckled. Izzy cried out, scraping her nails up the back of his neck to hold his head against her. She was going to die from the pleasure. Her hips gyrated against his stomach even as she told herself she needed to keep her head. She couldn’t have sex with him. That stupid bet and her own compulsive need for freedom held her back. Her spasming sheath didn’t give a

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rat’s ass what her brain wanted. It hungered for Grant’s cock, weeping for him. Grant’s mouth left her nipple with a soft pop before he tormented her other poor, neglected peak. She writhed on the countertop. She was going to come just from him suckling her breasts, she knew it! Her mouth gaped open as she tried to breathe. He left her again before she could reach climax. No, no! Izzy’s breath sawed in and out as he fell to his knees before her. “Grant, no.” The protest was weak, a bare whisper of sound with no real heat and he knew it. **** His nostrils flared as he leaned closer, his eyes closing as he caught her scent. She was unfurling, like a rose, her hormonal rhythm changing to meet his body’s demands. Grant rested his head on her thigh and breathed her in. She’d bathed his abdomen with her musk, marking him, and now he was about to taste the reward for his efforts. She squirmed slightly, waking him from his trance. Looking up, he stared into her chocolate-colored eyes and stroked her with his tongue. Her body shuddered, slumping back as he lapped into her wetness with all the delicacy of a bee sipping honey. Her taste exploded on his tongue, sending his well-wrung cock into overdrive. He groaned, cupping her soft ass in his hands to hold her still so he could delve deeper. Isola’s breath grew ragged as he sampled her delicate folds. She tasted so fucking good. He groaned, closing his eyes to better savor her. He thrust his tongue into her as far as he could, curling it at the tip to scoop up her sweet cream before retreating. He repeated the careful tasting for several long seconds before his desires got the better of him. With an expert flick of his tongue at her rigid clit, he herded Isola towards orgasm. Her body tensed above him, her chest desperately rising and falling as she struggled to

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breathe. Slipping one hand down her sweet ass, he filled her tight channel with two long fingers. Grant groaned at the vise-like clasp of her. He could so easily imagine her sheath snug around him, the little flutters of her building orgasm rippling around his cock. Her hands fell to the top of his head, her fingers clutching at his hair. Grant smiled against her pink flesh as her hips rose to meet his wriggling tongue and thrusting fingers. “Grant,” she moaned. He watched her without slowing his motions. “Grant! Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods!” Her voice climbed progressively higher until she was keening. The orgasm tore through her body. Isola’s thighs were widepressed, her hips jerking as she sang out in true operatic style. Strong muscles clamped around his fingers, squeezing and releasing in a rhythm that had Grant’s cock throbbing in unison. Her body’s moisture rained down on his tongue and hand. He growled. She was magnificent and all his. **** A loud ringing destroyed Izzy’s cocoon of sated pleasure. She wasn’t sure how long she’d hovered on the edge of oblivion, but was brutally yanked into the real world when Grant cursed. Guided by instinct and embarrassment, Izzy was off the counter and in her room before he even got off the floor. Her face burned. Had she lost her fucking mind? Leaning on the door, she heard Grant curse again and slam out of the bathroom. She breathed a sigh of relief when his voice came from the living room. She wasn’t sure what would have happened if the phone hadn’t interrupted them. She was afraid she might’ve broken down and begged him to take her. And that wouldn’t have been good for either of them.

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Chapter Twenty Grant stared at Isola’s bedroom door. He didn’t know what to do. She’d brought him to climax twice—he blushed at the memory of his lack of control in the shower. He’d brought her to the kind of orgasm he’d only read about in Playboy, but she’d run from him as soon as she could. Anger pulsed through him. If the fucking phone hadn’t rung at that exact moment, he would probably be locked inside her right now. The phone rang again. Stomping across the room where he’d thrown it, he snatched it off the phone. “What!” There was a stunned silence, then his mother’s voice. “Grant Strickland, how many times have I told you not to answer your phone like that?” Closing his eyes, he collapsed on the sofa. Between Isola and his mother, he never seemed to win. His mouth curled. “Hey, Ma.” She huffed. “I just wanted to be sure you didn’t forget about dinner with the Connellys tonight. Bill’s bringing his daughter, Bethany, and she’s so sweet! Wait until you meet her, Grant. I really think she’s the perfect first mate for your harem.” She continued rattling on while Grant sat, stunned and disbelieving. Hadn’t his mother or father listened to him? He wasn’t taking anyone but Isola to mate. Anger at his parents for not understanding and anger at Isola for not realizing they were meant for each other bubbled beneath the surface as he listened to his mom extol the cow-swan’s virtues. Bethany sounded boring and placid, just

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like every other cow-swan he’d ever met. Nothing like the Amazon he’d come so close to fucking on his bathroom counter. When Arabella paused to take a breath, Grant inserted his two cents. “I’m bringing Isola with me.” “Wh—What?” He pictured her blinking into space, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. She sounded horrified, as though he’d told her he was inviting the local butcher to dinner. “I’m bringing Isola. She isn’t from around here and doesn’t know many people.” Which wasn’t exactly true. She’d made quite an impression on several of the shifters in the area after her fight with Lisa, but he didn’t want her hanging around them. He was the only horny bastard she’d be hanging around from now on. “And you always say it’s rude not to offer our hospitality to newcomers.” That was the sticking point, he knew. Arabella hated being thought of as anything but warm and welcoming. Her breathing whistled in his ear and he knew she was fighting off a faint, but she was made of sterner stuff. She sucked in air. “That’s good. I’ll be sure to tell Bill to invite one of his business associates to even out the numbers. Be here for seven o’clock, or I swear I’ll take a switch to your backside, Grant!” She hung up before he could protest the addition of another person, which was how she usually played it. If he had been thinking straight, he would’ve hung up after telling her Isola was going to dinner. Then he would’ve had the last word. He grimaced and turned the phone off. “Who keeps calling?” Her voice was cool and collected as though they hadn’t set off earthquakes with their passion a few minutes ago. Grant resented her poise. He liked it when Isola was fiery and untamed. Deliberately sitting back and splaying open his legs so that the towel gaped over his thickening cock, he looked over at her. “That was my mother. We have to be at their house for seven thirty.” He

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wasn’t going to be there at exactly seven to spend half an hour making small talk. She frowned. Her wet hair was slicked back from her glowing face. She looked young and innocent, but he knew the fire that burned beneath the surface. She’d dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans, a baggy T-shirt, and her ever-present moccasins. “What are we going there for? You know we have work to do here. I was going to try to call Fallon to see if he heard from Queen Albreda.” She frowned at him then it was like a light bulb went off in her head. She sighed deeply. “Oh, right, you have a date.” She shrugged and flapped a hand in his direction. “You go on and play coochie-coo with the cow-swan. I’ll stay here and try to save the world.” Grant laughed at her, ignoring the angry glint in her eyes. “You know your queen won’t be happy if you call before you’re supposed to,” he told her chidingly. An angry blush burned her cheeks, giving her a freshly fucked look that he loved. “Come to dinner tonight and protect me from the lascivious cow-swan who wants me only for my seed.” The anger shifted into amusement, but she fought it back. Her eyebrow rose in an arch expression he wanted to kiss right off her face. “I’m sure she wants you for more than your seed, Grant.” Chocolate eyes raked him from his head to his toes, stopping in the middle to study his swelling cock. “I’m sure she’s also interested in your money.” He guffawed, not taking offense at all. “Yeah, probably right, sweet cheeks, which is why you should save me from her.” She opened her mouth to protest, and Grant did something he hadn’t done since he reached maturity. He pushed out his bottom lip and pinned her in place with his most sorrowful look. “Please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please? Don’t let the mean cow get me.” Her lips quivered, and he knew he had her. Triumph filled him with renewed vigor and optimism. “Fine! But I’m not dressing up and

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if someone insults me, I’ll start naming my favorite beef cooking methods. I swear it.” Grant fought back his laugh, but couldn’t hide his smile. “I’ll even help you.” **** This was a stupid idea. She hadn’t done something this stupid since…well, since the morning when she’d tracked Grant to his parents’ house. She grimaced. Really, maybe she needed some kind of intervention. Grant looked fucking good, of course. The black slacks and black button-down shirt he wore made him look…dangerous. The gold ring in his nose gave him a sexy edge that he really didn’t need. The man was lethal without it. She wanted to dig her hand into those slacks and…No, not gonna go there. Nervously pleating the folds of her skirt, she hoped she looked okay for this dinner. He hadn’t said exactly who they would be meeting there, so she’d opted for casual dress. It had been well worth pulling the skirt out and ironing it to see the look on Grant’s face when he caught sight of her. It wasn’t the sexiest thing she’d ever worn. She had other outfits that were just barely legal to wear in public. The skirt went right above her knee, the top she’d paired with it was modest, but a deep earth brown that Rosetta had picked out for her. She shrugged. Grant seemed to like it. A lot, if the hunger in his eyes was any indication. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and stared out the window. She would not think about Grant, his cock, or how much she wanted it. No. Not gonna happen. They were about two miles from his parents’ home when Grant finally broke the silence. “Thanks for coming.” Surprised that he would thank her for something that really was…nothing, she looked at him. “You’re welcome. I wouldn’t want

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them to make a meal out of you.” Those four-legged bitches. “Besides, I think your dad and I need to have some words.” “Please don’t piss my mom off, okay? She gets really…uptight about these matchmaking dinners.” Izzy blinked at him. “You mean she’s not normally uptight?” He laughed loudly. “I—” She never got to find out what he was about to say because the world exploded in a ball of fire. The truck bounced off the road, Grant cursing and struggling to keep them from going into a deep ditch. Izzy grabbed the “oh shit” bar and tried to see past the flames to whoever was attacking them. She saw shadowy figures, but nothing that gave her real information. “Shit,” she growled. She’d left her fucking weapons at Grant’s house. She hadn’t wanted to freak his mother out, and now she was without means to protect Grant. The truck bucked, throwing Izzy into the air, her head slamming into the ceiling. “Dammit, watch where you’re going!” “Yeah, easy for you to say, Miss Sitting-Over-There-DoingNothing!” She would have responded, but the truck crashed into the wide trunk of a tree. The force of the wreck caused Izzy’s body to snap against the strain of the seat belt, her forehead hitting the dash. Pain exploded through her head, but she fought past it. They had to get out of the truck, get away from whoever was out there before things got worse. “You okay, bull boy?” Her hands fumbled with the buckle of the seatbelt and she kept seeing three of everything. When Grant didn’t answer her, the calm she’d forced upon herself threatened to crumple. Shredding the seat belt to free herself, Izzy slid across the seat to the minotaur slumped over the steering wheel. He was breathing, though the sounds were ragged. She touched him, searching for an injury that would keep him immobile. His big body quivered in what

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she thought was pain, but the more she touched him, the more she realized that Grant was shaking with rage. He lifted his head, his horns already growing as he shifted to his minotaur form. Izzy fell back as he turned towards her to avoid being gouged by his horn. Once she got a good look at his face, she scrambled for the door. He wasn’t in there. Grant, as she knew him, was gone, and in his place was a beast. She knew he would hurt her, not purposely, but she’d rather have him out of the truck where he had room to move. And that was the only reason why she backed away from him. She landed on the ground with a grunt, jumping to her feet as soon as she could. Swaying in place, she squinted into the night. Her fucking head felt like Ronaldinho had bounced it off his knee a few million times. It was a concussion, but she didn’t have time for being hurt. Grant roared. His door exploded outwards as he exited the truck. Fucking show-off. The ground beneath her feet trembled as he stalked around the hood to stand next to her. She didn’t look at him though. If she did, she’d probably lose it. Instead, she headed to the stainless steel toolbox in the bed of the truck. She didn’t have her knives, throwing stars, or her flamethrower, but she was an Amazon. She could improvise. Sirens wailed in the far-off distance. Quiet, fugitive sounds from closer indicated that their attackers were nearing. Izzy pried open the toolbox, finding a couple of tire irons, a nail gun, pliers, and screwdrivers. Thank the gods for ranchers, she thought as she grabbed the tire irons and the nail gun. Making sure the gun was loaded she swiped another pack of nails and stuffed them in her bra. Yeah, not exactly comfortable, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Grant hadn’t moved from his spot, his eyes on her as though waiting for her to freak out, or faint, or some other sissy shit she didn’t have time for.

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“Ready to kick some ass?” He didn’t answer, his eyes drilling into her as though waiting for her reaction. Okay, so she could see why he thought she’d freak. In his minotaur form, Grant would have been scary if Izzy hadn’t seen Rosetta without her wig and make-up and a five-day hangover. Where he was a large male before, he was positively massive now. She guessed he stood at seven foot five, his shoulders more than a yard wide, with nothing but pure muscle packing his frame. His horns flared away from his temples, curling up at the ends at least a foot from his head. His face was harder, more angular. The proud nose she was so used to seeing was flatter at the tip and blackened just above the gold ring. He still looked humanoid, despite the horns and black eyes. If he were bright red, he’d look like Tim Curry in Legend. It was fucking awesome! A pelt of short, black fur coated his body, making him gleam like onyx in the moonlight. Her eyes trailed down his body, pausing at his crotch because—hello!—how could she not look? He was hung. His cock dangled nearly to where his knees would have been, his balls massive. She wanted to stare. Okay, she did stare, but she couldn’t help it. He was fucking huge! Some part of her, the weak, feminine part of her, prayed he didn’t plan on getting that thing anywhere near her. She was pretty sure minotaurs didn’t fuck in this form, but you never knew. Reluctantly dragging her eyes from his cock, Izzy saw that from his hips to his hooves, he was all bull. Something moved behind him and she walked around him to see that he had a tail. How cool was that? She’d always thought she’d look sexy with a tail. But there was no time for daydreaming. Grant was waiting for her verdict and they had bad guys to beat up. “You have a huge ass.” ****

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Grant’s heart stopped at Isola’s flat tone. Was she disgusted? Frightened? Then her words registered and relief flooded his system. Thank the gods she wasn’t running away from him screaming. It had happened once before, which was why he tried not to use this form as much. Although he seemed to slip into it more and more around her. He supposed Isola had the strange ability to let his true beast out of the cage. Gods help her. It was a damn good thing he wasn’t able to get a hard-on in this form, too, because the way she’d stared at his cock would have had him sporting a bat-sized erection. He scented her unease and knew she was wondering if he would try to fuck her in this form. She had no worries about that, he wanted to tell her, but they didn’t have the time. “Not huge.” His fangs didn’t allow for easy speaking, but he couldn’t let her get away with calling him fat. Those doe brown eyes surveyed him. “Okay, maybe not huge, but you definitely have a lot of junk in your trunk in this form. And how cool is it that you have your Halloween costume already!” She bounced a bit. “You should come to the camp for the annual party this year. I’ll go as Lili and you can be the Lord of Darkness!” She lifted the nail gun and for a split second, Grant knew true fear. She’d lied to him. She was planning to shoot him because she really was scared of him! Isola fired. He felt the nail burst past him as it headed for an unknown target. He spun around to see an imp slide to a stop at his feet. Blood trickled from a small hole right between its eyes, telling Grant that Isola had hit it spot-on. More poured out of the trees, no longer silent since their presence had been given away. They were small and usually very ineffective fighters, but in great numbers, they could cause a lot of damage. Someone was serious about this fight. Brimstone singed his nostrils as they swarmed over Grant and Isola. These weren’t mage-summoned imps. No, that scent alone

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meant they’d been called forth by a demon lord. Small, wiry, and unbearably childlike, the imps wore uniform black chainmail with no discernable markings. They smiled with glee, incredibly sharp teeth bared at Grant and Isola. Grant roared, charging forward as the first wave broke over him. He snapped necks, stomped on their four-foot bodies, but they barely put up a fight. They clung to him, trying to slow him down, but none of them inflicted wounds. The imps he killed were replaced until he was buried beneath a mound of the gibbering creatures. If they weren’t trying to hurt him, what did they want? He heard Isola laughing hysterically even as the steady thumping of the nail gun echoed through the night air.

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Chapter Twenty-One Izzy shot again and again, nailing—she laughed at her own wittiness—the imps who charged at her. Grant was covered with the little bastards, though it didn’t look as though they were trying to hurt him so much as slow him down. The ones after her came with teeth bared and their little creepy hands extended. One of them latched onto her leg, and without her leathers to protect her skin, Izzy felt every one of those wicked teeth going right into her calf muscle. Screaming out her pain and anger, she swung the tire iron down, laying into the imp with all of her strength. It fell in a broken mess, but was quickly replaced by another and another. Shooting at them with her right hand and swinging the tire iron with her left, Izzy tried to make her way to Grant. She could barely see him he had so many imps hanging off of him. He kept breaking necks and throwing the bodies, trying to keep them away from his septum piercing, but it was only a matter of time before they brought him down. She couldn’t let that happen. She needed to get them the fuck out of there. The wailing sirens were still too far away to offer help. His parents’ ranch wasn’t too far away, but she couldn’t bring this kind of hell on them. Swinging tirelessly, she mowed through the ranks, but for every imp she killed five more seemed to take its place. Her strength waned and she knew without a shadow of a doubt if they didn’t get some help soon, she was going down and Grant would be taken. Izzy mustered all the strength she had and plowed her way to Grant’s side. The next packet of nails went into the gun. She fired

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more nails at the fuckers following her while her other hand dragged imps off of Grant’s back. He didn’t have a single mark on him. Thank gods. His big hands cracked skulls at a steady pace while his hooves dealt brutal kicks to any that got close enough. She wanted to slump next to him with relief and exhaustion. She thanked the gods he was still going. Obviously his minotaur form was more durable than his human form. A small fist landed in her eye and Izzy growled. “I hate imps!” She swung the tire iron at the imp who punched her, glad to hear it squeal and fall away. “Run.” The low growl vibrated through her back. “Are you out of your fucking mind, Raging Bull? These little creeps’ll pull you down and then I’ll have to save your ass anyway!” Izzy fired again. She needed to make this last strip of nails last, so she made sure she aimed to kill. It was harder to do than it sounded since imps were small and fast, but she did her damnedest. “You had an imp-killing party and didn’t invite me?” The sultry voice was so unexpected, everyone stopped fighting at once. Izzy jerked her head around to see who had spoken, her heart beating a frantic rhythm of hope. Peering through the trees, she made out a pair of knee-high fur boots, then leather pants. Rosetta Brown of the Blood Maiden Tribe sauntered out of the woods looking as though she’d just stepped off a fashion magazine. She’d obviously made an appointment with her stylist, because her hair was brilliant white, almost the same color as the snow, showing off her delicious tanned skin. She wore the Blood Maiden halter with a fur coat matching her boots over it. She looked exotic and not in the least bit feminine. To finish it all off, she was in full makeup, her false eyelashes batting slowly as she took in the frozen tableau before her. Izzy wasn’t really surprised about the makeup. Rosetta never left her tent

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without looking like a billion bucks—she claimed inflation made her worth more. “What the fuck are you doing here, Rosetta?” she demanded, though gods knew she was happy to see her. “Bitch, you should be happy I’m here!” “I am, but—” “But nothin’!” Rosetta cut her off, giving her a once-over. “You look like shit. Haven’t you been using that facial cream I sent with you?” “I haven’t had time. We’re kinda in a—” “You need to use it twice a day! If you’re not careful, you’ll end up looking like a leather purse, and let me tell you, that bitch could bathe in a vat of moisturizer and it wouldn’t do a bit of good.” She paused to catch her breath. “You should’ve told me you were planning a party. I would’ve been here earlier. Do you like my new boots? I got them from Savio. Gotta love that fairy. Did I tell you he and I are dating?” “Rosetta!” Izzy snarled at her best friend, though the smile on her face ruined the effect. “We could use some help here, you lazy bitch!” Rosetta sighed heavily. “Fine, but I’m going to kick your ass after this and I want to know all the deets about you and the bull. Got it?” “Yes, yes.” “Oh, Saga’s with me…” she looked behind her. “Somewhere. So be prepared for two ass whippings, bitch.” “Just shut up and fight already!” Izzy was laughing too hard to take offense. She was so glad to see Rosetta, and if Saga wasn’t far behind, even better. As though the imps realized their advantage was lost, they attacked with more gusto, going for Izzy like she owed them money. She squeaked at the renewed attack, especially as her nail gun ran out of nails. Throwing the gun at the head of one of her attackers, she grabbed the spare tire iron she’d tucked in the belt of her skirt, and

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double-wielded them. It wasn’t as refined and well-balanced as sword fighting, but it was better than nothing. Steel twinkled close-by, telling her that Rosetta was kicking ass and taking names. Bolstered by her friend’s appearance, Izzy fought like a demon. Grant occasionally bumped into her, but after a few awkward swings, they found an easy rhythm that allowed them both free movement. Though they were taking part in a deadly dance, Izzy had never felt closer to Grant than she did at this moment. How weird was that? By the time the squad cars showed up, the mob of imps had been defeated. Izzy could only imagine what Ricky thought when he pulled up because he sat in his car with the headlights pinning them in place. Looking around, she saw that she and Grant were knee-deep in imp corpses, while Rosetta had a nice collection of imp heads at her feet. Grant shuddered, drawing her attention from the slaughter. Whirling around, she watched his massive body shrink until he was back in his human form. He stumbled forward, prompting Izzy to slip under his arm to help him maintain his balance. Steam poured off his body as his naked skin met the frigid air. A fur coat was thrust in Izzy’s face. Rosetta held it out with an expectant look. “Well? Don’t make the man freeze his dick off, ’cause that would be a shame.” The coat fit Grant, not surprisingly, and he gave her friend a weak smile. “Are you okay?” he asked Izzy, the concern on his face enough to melt her heart. Rosetta’s, too, if the look on her face was anything to go by. Izzy nodded because the lump in her throat made it impossible to speak. “Here now, little miss,” Ricky’s booming voice startled Izzy bad enough that she jumped. His big hands settled on her shoulders, gently tugging her away from Grant. “We need to get you both warm and then you can tell us what happened. Okay?”

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Rosetta pulled Izzy away from Ricky, her sharp eyes taking in the bear’s height and, most especially, size. “Bitch, you didn’t tell me there was so much man candy around here!” Ricky, who’d turned to help Grant, stopped dead in his tracks, his head swinging around to stare at Rosetta in horror. Izzy dragged her friend away from the bear, carefully stepping over the imps piled at their feet. She watched as Ricky led his cousin to one of the squad cars, putting him in the passenger seat and closing the door. Rosetta, however, wasn’t as interested in Grant’s health. “That’s your bull? Did you do the dirty yet? How’s he in bed? Saga should be here soon; I wonder what’s taking her so long. She said she knew your big ass would be in trouble and she was right!” Izzy gasped in outrage. “What is it with my ass? I haven’t gained a single pound in fifty years and now everyone thinks it’s big!” She slapped Rosetta’s arm. Rosetta slapped her back. They glared at each other. Izzy snarled and windmilled on her friend, who replied right back with a flurry of open-handed slaps that landed light as a feather. Then it was on! It was their way of playing, but it still annoyed the shit out of everyone else. Which was why when Izzy heard, “Why am I not surprised to see you two fucking off as usual?” she was prepared to defend herself. “She started it! She said I have a big ass.” She turned to Saga, who stood several feet away, her foot resting on an imp skull. Saga, looking just as beautiful as her queenly sister, leaned against one of the bare trees on the edge of the clearing. Her bright blue eyes surveyed Izzy’s skirt, now torn and bloody, festive blouse, and heels. “That doesn’t look like your uniform.” Izzy’s face bloomed with color. “Er, I was going to a dinner party.” She wasn’t fooled by the thoughtful look on her mentor’s face. Oh no, Saga was pissed off and about to tear a strip off her hide.

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“Wait, did I hear you say a ‘party?’” She tilted her head to the side, her long, brown ponytail trailing over her shoulder. Izzy had gotten very good at judging Saga’s moods by that ponytail. “I was pretty sure Queen Albreda sent you here for something important. Let me think.” She frowned at the sky, snapping her fingers. “Oh yes! I think it was called ‘solitary confinement!’ Or was it ‘exile?’” Rosetta, showing just how fucking smart she really was, edged away from Izzy. She saw the ticking time bomb that was Saga DeLacey and wisely wanted no part of it. “It wasn’t my fault.” Yeah, that was mature. Apparently Saga agreed because she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I couldn’t just let the nymphs make off with him. They were…hurting him.” Saga’s eyebrows shot up, but her expression was still cold when she replied. “Hurting him. Hurting a two-thousand-pound bull. Nymphs.” She shook her head. “You had one simple job to do here, Izzy. You were to stay. Out. Of. Trouble.” Shit, shit, shit! She opened her mouth to defend herself, but was interrupted by a smelly bear that stepped up to Saga and put a massive paw over her mouth. “Now, now, I can’t have you upsetting little Izzy here. Not when my cousin is planning to make her part of the family,” he told the very pissed-off Saga with a grin. Ricky looked at Izzy, his brown eyes concerned and grateful. “You head on to the car now, darlin’. Grant’s starting to freak out because your blood is forming a nice little pool in the snow.” Izzy looked down to see the damned bear was right. She was standing in a puddle of her own blood. Nice. She’d never be able to wear these shoes again. Saga, the most badass Amazon Izzy had ever had the honor of working with, struggled in Ricky’s arms, though it looked more like they were dancing. She would move, Ricky would move with her. It

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was…disturbing. A quick glance at Rosetta said she was just as freaked out over Saga’s inability to kick the bear’s ass. The way Ricky looked at Saga wasn’t cool either. If her head wasn’t spinning and if she wasn’t leaking blood like a faucet, Izzy probably have taken more note of Saga’s expression. There was something about it that rang a bell, but there were lots of bells going off and lights, too. It was kind of pretty in a really fucked up… **** The attack hadn’t gone the way he planned. The imp leader quivered in fear. “You failed.” The imp cringed, ducking his head lower. He was already prostrate on the floor, any lower and he’d be beneath the tiles. “I’m sorry, master. We almost had him this time. Another Amazon showed up and—” “Does your usual master put up with these lame-ass excuses?” “N–No, sir.” “I didn’t think so. You failed. That’s all there is to it. Now you’ll pay the price.” With a flick of his hand, he summoned his clan who descended on the imp and tore it to pieces. Sitting back in his chair, he sighed. You couldn’t find good help anywhere. “Send a message to Avyn, tell her to eliminate the demon lord those imps belonged to. They’re defective.” “What do we do next?” The question came from his second, a bear who’d been kicked out of his clan for killing his parents for fun. “We’ll have to go after the minotaur ourselves. No more of this woo-woo bullshit.” Someone snickered at the unintended pun, but shut up as soon as he glared in their direction. He didn’t tolerate humor. “Form two squads. I want this bastard in Ormond’s hands by tomorrow night.”

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They trooped out of the board room, but one paused in the doorway. “What about the Amazons?” He hated Amazons. His lip curled in a silent snarl that had his clan member scrambling to leave the room. The Amazons would be wiped out. He’d see to it himself. **** “Grant! Where is he, Ricky? Where’s my baby?” He rolled over, burying his head in his pillows. For fuck’s sake, he was trying to sleep! “Calm down, Aunt Belle. He’s doing just fine. He and Izzy are resting and—” “That woman is the reason he’s in all of this trouble, I just know it!” Her dramatic screeching edged closer and closer to Grant’s door and he prayed Ricky stopped her from entering. He groaned from the piercing pain in his head. He felt like it was about to split open. Something hit him in the back of the head making it throb even more. He growled. “Stop making all that fucking noise or I’ll push your ass to the floor, bull boy.” Both eyes open now, Grant lifted his aching head to see the most beautiful sight in the world. Isola, eyes closed and hair spread out on the pillow beneath her head, wearing nothing but a sheet. A dark bruise covered her forehead, and from what he could see of her, the rest of her body hadn’t fared well. “Are you okay?” “Does this look like I’m okay?” she demanded with her eyes closed. “I’m trying to fucking sleep and you and your mother keep making all that noise.” Her face was scrunched up in a scowl that boded ill for anyone who crossed her.

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He smiled. How could he not? She was so adorable, he wanted to hug her close and never let her go. He opened his mouth, but she thrust her hand in the air, index finger extended. “Shut. Up.” And he did because what did he have to complain about? His mate was in his bed, where she belonged, and though they were both too beat up to enjoy it, he felt soothed by her nearness. Relaxing back into his pillow, he turned his head to watch her. The tension drained from her face as she eased back to sleep. Unable to help himself, he nestled closer and closer until they were touching. Grant sighed, letting his eyelids fall shut as he absorbed the sensation of knowing they were both alive and relatively healthy. Ricky and his mother still spoke outside, but the sound washed away on a tide of utter contentment. “Oh my gods! Grant, get away from that female this instant!” Isola snapped to wakefulness, which was very unfortunate for Grant’s nose since he’d had it tucked into the crook of her shoulder. Blood flowed. His mother screamed. Isola groaned and fell back on the bed, her hand over her eyes. “What’s going on here?” The voice was cold, feminine, and cut right through the drama. Peeking over his cupped hands, Grant saw the Amazon from the woods standing in the doorway. Her legs were braced wide apart, her blue eyes taking in the scene with one glance. She sighed. “Get out, heifer, my Amazon is recuperating.” His mother gasped her hand flying to her chest. “Why I…I don’t believe this! Grant, are you going to let this…this…” The Amazon’s eyebrow rose as she fingered the knife strapped to her thigh. “…this woman to talk to me that way?” Arabella finished weakly. Grant had to clear his throat a few times to get the blood out of it, but he finally croaked, “Ma, we’re hurt. We’re trying to rest up so we

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can investigate. I’ll call you as soon as something comes up. Promise.” “But why are you in bed together? You have another room, Grant Torrance Strickland, and that woman is not your mate.” Oh she was mad. “I want her out of that bed this instant!” Ricky, who’d wedged himself in the room behind his aunt, made a face the Amazon apparently didn’t appreciate. The cold look she gave him was reminiscent of an iceberg, but Ricky winked at her. “It was easier for us to take care of them together,” he told Arabella, “and they look cute together. Look, they have matching bruises.” “Richard Davis, I don’t need to hear your smart-ass remarks. Get that woman out of my son’s bed!” Isola groaned, but Grant couldn’t tell if it was from pain or frustration since her hand still covered her face. The blood flow from his nose trickled to a stop, but he couldn’t stop staring at his mate while his mother argued with Ricky and the Amazon. He saw her lips thin and felt her body tense next to him. She was in pain, severe pain, and his mother acted as though it didn’t matter. Rage roared through him like wildfire. “Get out.” His voice was so low and deep that it took several seconds for the others to respond. “What?” his mother asked when she stopped for air. “Did you say something?” “I said get the fuck out of here.” He didn’t hear them moving. “Now!” The bellow reverberated around the room, shocking them into silence, but it wasn’t until Grant made to leave the bed that his mother scrambled. Ricky, with a wink and a grin, tried to herd the Amazon out, but she wouldn’t budge. Pressing a hand to Ricky’s chest, she moved him out of the way so she could pin Grant to the bed with a deadly glare. “Hurt her and I’ll skin you alive.”

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With that said, she shoved Ricky halfway across the bedroom before stomping out. His cousin chuckled softly. “That little lady is a handful!” “Are you fucking nuts?” Grant asked, his rage seeping away as confusion took its place. Instead of looking offended, Ricky shook his head. “Maybe. I kind of like the way she pushes me around.” He laughed again. “Take care of your girl. I’ll take care of her friend.” Grant watched the whistling bear saunter out of his room, softly closing the door behind him. He stared at the panel for a while, trying to puzzle through Ricky’s behavior. His head pounded after a few seconds, so he gave up with a mental shrug. Ricky was bear enough to take care of himself. He had more important things to worry about, like his mate’s pain. Leaning over, he stroked his fingers along her cheek. “Baby, are you okay? Can I get you anything?” He hurt for her, for the pain she’d suffered protecting him, but part of him felt nothing but awe and pride that she’d fought by his side. “Are they gone?” A soft whisper cut through his inner musings. Startled, Grant looked into bright brown eyes. “What?” she asked in a defensive tone. “I wanted them to leave. They were getting on my nerves.” “Are you okay?” She snorted, pushing his hand away to sit up with a yawn. The sheet started to slip, but to his disappointment, she caught it before it revealed anything. “I’m sore, got a headache that makes me wish I could van Gogh myself except I’d cut my head off, but yeah, I’m good.” She looked him over. “How about you?” In answer, Grant tackled her, pinning her beneath him. The sheet fell to her waist so their bare chests were pressed together. She felt so fucking good against him he wanted to stay plastered against her for the rest of their lives. Since that wasn’t practical, he settled for a kiss.

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Chapter Twenty-Two She didn’t evade him, didn’t try to stop him. No, Isola’s eyes were wide open and her lips moist as he lowered his mouth to hers. The softest sigh escaped just before her body relaxed into his. The kiss itself was gentle, loving. He rubbed his mouth over hers, learning the texture of her lips, savoring her softness. He would be content to sip at her forever. He nibbled at her plump bottom lip, feeling a surge of triumph as she shivered in reaction. Her nipples tightened against his chest, pressing into him in demand. Grant hummed softly. He’d get to those little beauties in a minute. He just needed to taste more of Isola’s hot mouth. **** Izzy moaned against Grant’s mouth. He was being too fucking gentle, too sweet. She was warm and willing beneath him. He should’ve been pushing for more, but no, he was taking his good ole time. And gods help her, she loved it. His body held her to the bed, caged her really, but she could’ve cared less. He was so hot, so hard and sexy she wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing that was impossible, she dragged her hands up his back to sink her fingers in his hair. She opened her mouth in demand, and Grant gave her what she wanted, needed. His tongue surged into her mouth and Izzy answered. Their tongues dueled as Grant’s taste went to work on her senses. She moaned as her body flooded with heat, with such insistent need, she thought she might explode from want.

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He tilted his head to the side to give him better access which she immediately granted, her hands tugging him closer. The gold ring in his septum pressed against her cheek, sending those erotic electrical charges through her body that sent her womb into a spasm of delight. His scent seeped into her pores until she felt him on what had to be a molecular level. He was inside her without being physically inside her. He was a part of her. Forever. She knew that, wasn’t quite sure she accepted it, but she wasn’t ready to analyze. No, not right now. Right now, she needed him. The sheet was pulled away, baring her to his hungry hands as they roamed over her body. Every hurt she’d gained from the imp fight was washed away by the feel of Grant’s palms and fingers trailing over her skin. Bruises on her ribs? Gone as he feathered touches up to her breasts. He levered himself over her, pulling away from the kiss to stare down at her. His eyes were black, his nostrils flaring. With a growl that should have made her wary, he eased over her to trail his gorgeous lips from her mouth and down her throat. Sharp little bites of heat and electricity followed his mouth as he worked his way to her chest. Izzy whimpered, squeezing her thighs together. She was dripping wet already. If he did what she thought he was going to do, she’d— She moaned. Loudly as his tongue circled her right nipple. That fucking nose ring dragged across the mound of her breast, sending charges through her with each pass of his mouth. Wet? She wasn’t wet anymore, she was a one-woman flood! “Grant,” she moaned. She wasn’t sure what she wanted other than release. She tugged at his hair, but he paid her no mind, switching his attention to her other nipple. He gave it equal amount of love with his tongue before surrounding her with his mouth and suckling. Her back arched, her legs fell open as though he’d unlocked them. He growled against her nipple as he settled himself between her legs. His cock was a searing

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hot brand against her thigh. She wanted, oh gods, she wanted him so much. But something…something felt wrong. His teeth nipped her breast and in an instant, she felt instinct roar to the forefront of her mind. **** With a grace and agility Grant hadn’t known she was capable of in her wounded and aroused condition, Isola flipped him over to his back. He was stunned for a split second, but that was all it took for her to tie his hands to the headboard of his bed. Surprised—okay shocked—he looked up to see that she’d used strips of material the others had obviously intended for wrapping wounds. Grant knew he could shred through the bindings, but something stopped him. Isola’s eyes blazed with an inner fire that forced him to remain pliant beneath her. It was so against his nature, against the nature of all minotaurs, but under her hot stare, he felt his will to dominate fade. His heart thundered and his cock throbbed. He had a feeling he was about to find out what it was like to be taken by an Amazon. As though she read his mind, his mate’s lips curled into a sensual, dangerous smile that sent a bolt of desire through him. She leaned towards him, her breasts swaying closer until her hardened nipples grazed his chest. Her hot center pressed against his stomach, coating him in her juices. His mouth watered for a taste of her, but from the look on her face, that wasn’t going to happen. She closed the distance between their lips until they were mere inches apart. Her breath was warm and sweet against his lips. He opened his mouth to kiss her, but she shook her head. “Don’t make a sound, bull boy,” she whispered against his mouth. “Do you want your mother to come running in here to see you like this?” Okay, now he was about to come even though she’d mentioned his mother at a time when no sane man wanted to think of their parents. Knowing she was going to drive him crazy, knowing she

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planned to fuck him and not being able to make a sound? Oh gods, he was in heaven…hell…he bit back a groan of want, squeezing his eyes closed. The scent of her arousal surrounded him, the spice of her ovulation adding a new layer that demanded his seed. He was going to explode. She didn’t waste any time, didn’t bother with foreplay or teasing. No, not his mate. She knew what she wanted and she took it. Her hips lifted and he felt her small hand on his cock, positioning him for her pleasure. His eyes shot open just in time to see her sink onto him, taking him inside her tight pussy in one smooth glide. His breath burst out of him in combined relief and agony. He was inside her. His cock twitched. He was inside his mate and gods, had anything ever felt as good? No. Never, and he knew no other woman would ever make him feel the same. “Look at me, minotaur.” Her voice was just a wisp of sound, but it dragged his attention from the sensation—barely—to her face. He lost his breath again. Her eyes were bright, mesmerizing, her face glowing as though lit from within. Long, brown hair spilled over her shoulders in wild disarray. This was the Isola no one else had ever seen. Grant knew it as surely as he knew she would be his forever. “Watch me.” It was a command, and he was helpless to do anything other than obey. He watched avidly as her hands rose to play with her breasts. His dick twitched again. He was going to come. She smiled as though she knew how hard he struggled to hold back. Her long fingers with their blunt nails twisted and tugged at her nipples until they were diamond-hard points and flushed the color of cherries. She shifted her hips, his cock sliding against Isola’s sweet, little pussy. Grant clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, scrambling for the will to hold out until she came. Her inner muscles clamped around him, forcing his eyes open. “You have to watch.”

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He nodded dumbly. Anything. He’d do anything to come, but it had to be with her. He was a dominant male. He could hold back his pleasure until she did. Her hips rose until only the tip of his dick remained in her tightness. Circling her hips slightly, she sighed as his cock rimmed her opening. A rush of arousal seeped from her core, coating his cock with her essence. Grant growled softly, his eyes on where their bodies were barely joined. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. He watched, breathless and hungry, as her delicate pussy lips stretched around him, taking him in until their pelvises met. He huffed out a soft moan. Looking up at her, he was rewarded with her broad smile. She winked at him right before she began riding him. She slid down on his cock with slow, measured glides. Grant’s hands clenched into fists over his head. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to grab her hips and fuck her hard, but that strange compulsion stayed with him. She controlled their lovemaking and he had to let her. But that didn’t stop his hips from rolling up to meet her every downward thrust. It didn’t stop him from planting his feet on the bed to push harder into her. She gasped above him. His body thrilled at the sight of her head flung back, her hands cupping her breasts and playing with her nipples as she rode him harder, faster. Their heavy breathing and the soft, slick sounds of their mating were the only sounds in the room. Grant blinked sweat out of his eyes as Isola lifted and lowered herself hard. She reached out to brace her hands on his chest as she bounced on his cock with more enthusiasm than skill. He panted as her pussy tightened around him. She was about to come. Thank the gods. Then she did and it was more than he could’ve possibly hoped for. Her inner walls clutched his dick so hard he would’ve worried she was about to snap it off if the top of his head hadn’t exploded. He came, his hips pumping harder as he sent his seed deep inside her clamping body. Grant met Isola’s eyes, seeing his future in them, and

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knew she saw the same in his. It was a moment of pure and utter beauty. And in that instant, he felt the spark of something deeper. It had to be the bond, he thought in joyful exhaustion. Their hearts beat in unison, their bodies strained towards each other, and their souls melded. It was frightening. It was beautiful. Gods, it was perfect. Isola slumped over him, her inner muscles quivering around his still jerking cock, her body instinctively draining his of its essence. Together they shuddered and panted as they were lost in the throes of an orgasm so intense it had to have registered on the Richter scale. Grant didn’t even realize he’d shredded the bindings holding his hands until he found his arms around Isola, his hands stroking her damp back. Her entire body shook with the aftermath of their pleasure, her soft, sobbing breaths wafting over his sweat-slicked chest. Grant closed his eyes, content to hold her in his arms, his cock snug in her fluttering pussy. It was a moment out of time, completely separate from everything that had happened since they first met. They were one. He never wanted it to end. That’s the exact moment when a sudden fire swept through his body. His skin, which had finally dried from his exertions, beaded with sweat again. Isola moaned. “You’re hot.” Grant closed his eyes, trying to fight the need in him. The sensation was like none he’d ever experienced before, like someone had lit a fire just beneath his skin. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable, leaving him panting for air. “Grant? What’s wrong?” she asked as she pressed her soft hand against his cheek. He couldn’t speak. It was like his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, but he found out his body could do the talking for him. He heard Isola gasp even as he felt his cock swell inside her.

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If she hadn’t relaxed, he might have tried to disengage their bodies, but she melted all over him like butter on hot toast. She was like liquid silk around his dick, and all he could think about was coming inside her again. With that foremost in his mind, he flipped them over until she was trapped beneath him. Lodged deep inside her, he propped himself up on his hands to look at her. A rosy flush of arousal coated her face and her eyes were deep pools of bittersweet chocolate. “I have to…” He groaned as he nudged his cock deeper inside her channel. Her eyes rounded in surprise. “G–Grant? Are you getting…bigger?” He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth as dangerously sharp pleasure wafted through him. Gods, he was getting bigger! He could feel his dick lengthen and thicken until Isola’s sweet little pussy fit him as tight as a vise. He panted for breath as sweat trickled down his spine. He had to move, he had to plunge into her until he coated her with his seed. He had to make her his. **** Izzy couldn’t catch her breath. Sex…hadn’t always been like this. She was almost positive of that. It might’ve been a while since she rode a bucking bronco, but c’mon, there was no way she felt the earth move during the orgasm. But she’d never, ever had a male grow bigger inside her on a second round of play. But Grant was blowing all of her perceptions about sex out of the water. Even as that thought hovered in her mind, it was whisked away as he pumped his hips. Her fingers sank into the cheeks of his tight ass of their own violation. Oh, gods! His new size hit every single, fucking nerve ending in her pussy and massaged it. She shuddered as

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he gave another experimental thrust, her back arching up, her hips curling into his for more. He made a sound like a growl that vibrated through her body mere seconds before he lifted away from her slightly to balance on his knees. Her eyes popped open even as she parted her lips to utter a protest. She never got the chance to bitch him out because he hoisted her right leg up and out to the side. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the movement sent him deeper inside her. He never stopped pumping his hips, sending his now massive cock further into her with sharp, hard thrusts. Her breasts bounced at the pace. Her breath left her in soft, little yips of sound she couldn’t seem to control. “Gods, Isola,” he groaned as he quickened his strokes. “Tell me you’re close.” He actually wanted her to talk? Was he fucking crazy? Then he brushed her clit with the tips of his fingers, spreading her moisture around the taut bud. Izzy squeaked, feeling as though he’d shot her full of electricity. She grabbed for his hand to pull it away. It was too much, but he snapped his teeth at her and slammed into her hard enough to make her lose her breath. “Mine.” She didn’t know if he meant her clit or her body or whatever and she wasn’t about to ask him. Not when each pounding of his cock inside her body sent shockwaves through her. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Letting go of his hand, she lifted her arms over her head to grasp the headboard, clutching at it frantically. Grant went back to playing with her clit, stroking, pinching, tweaking it until the tension inside her exploded outwards. Izzy didn’t even have the breath to shriek like she wanted to, like her body demanded. All she was capable of was a soundless cry as her pussy convulsed in sheer pleasure. She vaguely heard Grant grunt as her inner muscles locked around him in a rhythmic dance that sent

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him over the edge. His hips bucked against her three more times before he stiffened with a long, low moan, spilling scalding hot seed into her body. Panting, feeling more than a little lightheaded, Izzy peered up at him to see him frozen above her as his cock emptied into her. That’s when she saw that at some point he’d planted her foot flat against his shoulder, opening her wider. She shook her head. Did it really matter that he’d made like Auntie Anne and tried to turn her into a pretzel? Not one damned bit. Not when he’d rocked her world so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk straight ever again. Finally, as though air was let out of a balloon, he collapsed on her, his body quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. They were both sticky with sweat and cum, breathing like they’d just run a marathon, and Izzy had never felt more satisfied in her entire life. If she could breathe, she’d purr, but all she could do was wheeze. Grant nuzzled her neck, sending a shiver through her body that made him groan as her inner muscles gave another flutter around his cock. Even spent, he filled her and it seemed as though her body was reluctant to let him go. His tongue swept out to lap at her throat and the sensation washed through her body, heating her up again. She couldn’t go another round though and she had a feeling neither could Grant. He was just loving on her. And she liked it. Her lips curled in a lazy smile as he propped his body up on his elbows over her. How weird was that? In the past, she couldn’t wait to kick her lovers out of the bed, but with him— Something hard landed on her nose and pain exploded. “Ow!” She clutched her face as blood leaked out of her nostrils. So much for the fucking afterglow! “Dammit, baby, I’m sorry,” Grant muttered as he disengaged their bodies to lay next to her. “Let me look at it.”

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She didn’t want him to look at it. She wanted to kick his ass just because. But she didn’t. He was so lucky he’d mellowed her out with great sex! Removing her hands from her face, she let him look at her nose. “What hit me?” she asked when he was finished examining her. She looked up at the ceiling, expecting to see a piece of plaster missing or something. It looked perfectly fine. Her eyes swept across the room. Maybe Rosetta had snuck in and thrown something at her for her sappy expression. But nope, no one was in the room except her and Grant. He didn’t answer her. That’s when Izzy felt the tension in his body and sensed the dread hanging over them. Moving slowly, like something out of a bad dream, she turned her head to look at him. He was gorgeous as usual, his skin still glistening with the sweat of his efforts, his hair clinging to his face and neck. But his skin was pale and those peepers of his were solemn. Something was different, though, and her stomach tightened as she tried to puzzle it out. The movement of her head pressed her cheek against something small and hard. With a sense of foreboding, she reached to her face to see what it was. It was slightly warm and curved. Izzy plucked it from the pillow and held it up to her face. It was a ring. A gold ring she’d stared at for the past several days. Her gaze flicked from the ring to Grant and back again as dawning horror filled her. Jackknifing to her knees, she thrust the ring at him with desperation. “Put it back in!” He evaded her hand, capturing her wrist in a gentle hold. “Baby—” “Don’t ‘baby’ me! Put it back in your nose, right now!” His nostrils flared, but without the ring there, it seemed…strange. “I can’t.” His tone was flat and angry. “We’re m—” She stopped his words by plastering her free hand over his mouth. “No, no. We’re not. We can’t be,” she babbled, feeling hysteria grip

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her. “It just fell out, that’s all! Look, let me just put it back and no one will ever know.” Frantic now, Izzy tried shoving the ring back into his septum, succeeding only in pissing Grant off. “Isola, dammit! Calm down!” She shook her head as she tried to open the ring with hands that trembled so badly, she thought she was having a seizure. “I can fix this,” she mumbled as she tried and failed to open the ring over and over again. One of his big hands—hands that could bring so much pleasure— folded over hers, stilling her movements. “Isola, we’re mated.” He gave her cold fingers a warm squeeze. “You belong to me and I belong to you.” Her brain seemed completely fried. She couldn’t believe any of this, couldn’t wrap her mind around it. It was impossible. She couldn’t be mated, she didn’t fucking want to be mated. Except there was no denying that she held Grant’s ring in her hand. Just like there was no getting around the fact that her Amazon instincts had taken over, completing the mating dance of her people. Mated. “You ho!” Rosetta’s triumphant shout came from the door leading to the bathroom. Izzy jumped, her eyes flying to the doorway where her best friend was posed. The triumphant gleam in Rosetta’s eyes was like a splash of icy cold water. She scrambled off the bed, the ring clutched in her hand. She couldn’t look at Grant. Wasn’t sure she even wanted to. Panic beat at her like Mike Tyson, threatening to throw her into a tailspin of fear she wasn’t sure she could pull out of. “Rosetta—” she croaked to her friend, reaching out her hand. “I’m gonna tell,” the six-foot-seven drag queen sang out as she ran through the bathroom. Izzy shot off after her friend before Grant could do anything like stop her. She heard him shout something behind her, but there was no

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stopping her until she stopped Rosetta. Barreling through the bathroom, she slammed open the door to the guest bedroom. The little shit had run into the living area already. “Shit!” Stumbling over her duffle bag, she snagged a T-shirt she sometimes used for sleeping. It barely covered her ass but it was better than running out buck naked. Izzy threw open the bedroom door and stalked into the living room. Grant’s mother was gone, thank the gods for that, but Saga and Rosetta stood in the center of the room. Izzy peeked around for Ricky, but didn’t see him either. “And here she is! Miss Forked Island Whore 2010!” Rosetta announced with a wave of her hand at Izzy. It was natural for her to reach out for her best friend with hands extended to wrap around her neck. She did it without even thinking and Rosetta looked up for the challenge, but neither of them accounted for Saga, who tugged Izzy to a stop much more gently than she normally would. “Calm it, kid,” her mentor urged in a soft voice. Rosetta and Izzy shared a confused glance. “Why? I was just gonna strangle her a little.” Or a lot. The panic curling in her stomach hadn’t abated. In fact, it seemed stronger than ever. Saga’s sharp gaze, which never missed a thing, flicked from Izzy’s face to her hand. Looking down, she saw that she’d slipped the ring onto her middle finger and curled her hand inward to keep it in place. Shit. Why had she done that? “You mated him.” Saga didn’t ask the question, she stated it in a clear, emotionless voice that made Izzy cringe. “She sure as shit did!” Rosetta responded when Izzy just stood there like a statue. “You shoulda seen the bed!” ****

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A large hand landed over Grant’s mouth, prompting him to attack. It wasn’t until he was halfway to the secret door in his bedroom that he recognized Ricky’s scent. “What the fuck are you doing?” he growled at his cousin while fighting him off. Ricky made a disgusted sound as he grabbed a pair of sweats from the dresser on the way out of the room. With one arm still on Grant’s arm, he pulled him through the secret door into the small alcove that led outside. “I’m saving your life, you ungrateful bastard. You’re about to—” An enraged scream shattered the quiet of the alcove and sent a trickle of unease through Grant. At Ricky’s silent urging, he dressed in the sweats. Sweat slipped down his spine. That scream…it had been a sound beyond pissed off. It had been a sound unlike any he’d ever heard before. It held anger, yes, but it also held betrayal, embarrassment, and a thirst for blood. “Told you I was saving your life,” Ricky muttered as he hauled Grant out of the alcove to his waiting squad car. Shoved into the passenger seat of the car, Grant looked back at the house his mate was tearing apart at that very moment. “She’s mad.” “Mad? That girl is ready to do what her friend threatened to do— skin you alive.” Muttering something about bullheaded minotaurs and Amazons, Ricky peeled away from the house. “We’ll go to my place until things cool down some.” He laughed shortly. “You know, Grant, there was a time when I was the one who used to get you in trouble. Now I see you manage well all on your own.” Grant said nothing. Isola was beyond furious about their mating. Gods, the look in her eyes when she realized what she held in her hand. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forget it, or recover from it. Her brown eyes had filled with disbelief, terror, and the beginnings of betrayal. She thought he’d planned it. How could he explain to her that he was just as stunned as she was? Yes, he’d known instinctively that she was his mate and that

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their making love would result in a bond, but he hadn’t expected the absolute satisfaction he felt. And that was why he felt like a sneaky shit, because he’d wanted her so badly he’d forgotten her fears. And now she thought he had tricked her into bonding with him. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the seat. Fuck. He was so fucked. **** They heard the scream of rage, had even cringed at the sound. Hells, he’d jumped like someone had stabbed him in the ass. There was something in that scream that promised bloody retribution to some poor bastard. Probably the same poor bastard who was driving away as though a gaggle of screaming Japanese schoolgirls was on his heels. “Do we go in?” He sighed and leaned his head against the tree in front of him. How did he end up with such stupid clan members? It wasn’t— One of the women came tearing out of the house. Her scent rode on an errant breeze, bringing back memories he thought he’d long buried. Dark brown eyes narrowed on the figure staring in the direction the car had left. Her brown hair was a lot longer than it had been when he last saw her. She’d filled out a good bit since then, too. He watched as her small hands balled into fists she waved at the sky with vicious curses. A cold, cruel smile curled his lips. His clan members edged away, the stink of their fear mingling with Isola Malone’s rosy, freshly mated scent. He’d found her. After all this time. His family’s murders would be avenged. And Dov Silverman knew just how to do it.

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Chapter Twenty-Three “It isn’t that bad, ma fouine. Just think, if you have children and they misbehave you can always threaten to make a belt out of them.” Rosetta laughed so hard tears poured down her face, ruining her precious mascara. “Or a pair of shoes!” she howled. Izzy banged her head on the table she was hunched over. She was mated to the minotaur. No, it was impossible. She didn’t have his ring’s twin. Right? Except… She’d been the one to take Grant. The Amazon mating instinct had taken over. She was his for the rest of her life whether she liked it or not and she hadn’t even realized it at the time. And he’d mated her right back. How? How was it even fucking possible? She slammed her fist on the table next to her head. It wouldn’t have been so bad if her closest, most loving friends hadn’t been there. She didn’t mind the teasing, really she didn’t. But it would’ve been easier with Grant at her side, even if she wasn’t sure how she felt about him. But he’d taken off, left her with confusion and fear roiling through her which proved he wasn’t happy about this mating either. Saga came strolling in with a bang of the door. “Did you see the bear or bull?” Izzy asked without lifting her head. She’d stood outside for what felt like hours staring at the car driving away until Fallon made her come back inside. Saga shook her head, her brown hair swinging from its high perch atop the back of her head. “Nah, that bull is long gone.” She sat at the table. “The bear, too. Thank gods.”

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Fallon was a little quicker on the uptake. “A bear and bull?” He sounded intrigued, and Izzy could imagine his look between her and Saga. “What did I miss while I was entertaining my adoring fans?” Blushing hard, Izzy pushed to her feet. She didn’t want to discuss anything, but these were her friends. The only people who, until the recent addition of Grant to that group, she trusted at her back. “I’m not going over this again.” Saga snorted. “Well, it’s like this,” Rosetta began, her voice eager and thrilled. Izzy sat back down, thumping her head on the tabletop. There was no way out of it now. Rosetta would share all the juicy details with Saga and Fallon, leaving Izzy without a shred of pride. “I came out here before Saga and ended up helping Izzy and her bull-man with a little imp battle. Then Saga showed up when that sexy bear came to get the bull-man.” She paused. “Has anyone else noticed how hot the men are around here? The bear’s deputy was, oh my gawd, hot!” Izzy couldn’t help but smile into the tabletop. Trust Rosetta to boil everything down to sexiness. “We kicked a little ass, Izzy got hurt, the bull-man—who is seriously hung by the way—was all worn out and we put them in bed together to recover.” She laughed. “Except I don’t think Izzy got that memo.” “Shut up.” “When I went in to check on them, Izzy here was plastered all over him like he was a pair of Jimmy Choos on clearance. Did I mention that Mr. Bull looked like he’d just been tied up and ridden within an inch of his life?” Heat seared Izzy’s face where it was pressed against the table. Saga and Fallon’s shocked silence was enough to make her want to sink into the floor. “Wait, wait a minute,” Saga gasped out. “You’re telling me Izzy mated the bull? I thought he mated you!”

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“That’s what it looked like to me.” Saga groaned. “Oh, Izzy, you idiot! What if he doesn’t bond to you? You’ll be bound to a male with a harem for the rest of your life!” “Harem?” Rosetta’s voice did not sound happy. “If he’s Izzy’s mate, he doesn’t get a harem.” “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, cher,” Fallon said, sounding less than happy himself. “The bull is a shifter, yes? This means his animal half has to bond with his mate. If he does not bond with Izzy, she will not have a mate, will not be recognized by his people.” His big hand came to rest on the back of Izzy’s head. “Ma fouine, is he your mate?” Izzy banged her head on the table again and unclenched her fist. The gold ring from Grant’s septum piercing made a tinkling sound as it hit the wood of the table. Part of her—a very secret, hidden part of her—was thrilled that she was Grant’s mate. The rest of her, though, wasn’t so sure it was a good thing. In fact, she wanted to die. She’d promised herself never to get involved with a shifter again and what had she done? She’d mated one. A full-on, Amazon, take-no-prisoners mating and he’d answered her back. Fuck. “Izzy…” Saga’s voice was tired. “How could you do something so idiotic?” “I didn’t mean to.” Her voice was soft, embarrassed, and she prayed they couldn’t hear what she’d said. Of course, her prayers always went unanswered. “You didn’t…didn’t mean to? What the hell does that mean?” Really pissed off now, Izzy sat up straight to stare her mentor in the eye. “It means I didn’t mean to mate him. It means that the fucking Amazon instinct took over when I was weak and next thing I knew, I was mated to a fucking minotaur! Is that clear?” Her friends stared at her, eyes round with surprise and horror. Yeah, that was pretty much her reaction too. Amazons chose to mate,

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they weren’t compelled to. Normally. Izzy sighed. She so wasn’t normal. She shouldn’t have been surprised that her mating ceremony wouldn’t fit with the rest of her tribe. “What are you going to do?” Rosetta asked in a hesitant voice. “Hell if I know.” **** “So your Amazon mated you,” Ricky remarked as they drove around Eustis. Grant didn’t bother answering because, yeah, it was a stupid question. He hadn’t looked in a mirror, but he was almost positive Isola’s possession of him had left a mark somewhere on his body. By the sound of fury she’d made, she obviously didn’t feel the same way. He glared out the windshield of the squad car. He wasn’t giving up on her. There was no way she was getting away from him. She’d marked him as hers and he felt like strutting. He needed her in his life. Now that he’d had a taste of her, he wasn’t sure he could live without her in his arms every day of the rest of his life. He rubbed the center of his chest. Fuck. He needed Isola. He needed her so much…Hells, he was pretty sure he might…love her. “Damn.” “What?” Ricky peered at him from across the car. He shook his head, too stunned to put his thoughts and feelings into words. Not yet. Besides, Ricky would think he’d lost his mind. And maybe he had. Maybe Isola had fucked the sense right out of his brain. He didn’t care. He needed that Amazon. He knew he’d have to fight to get her to realize they were meant to be. He knew it. “I want to go back to my house,” he told his cousin when they reached the edge of town. “Um. Are you sure? ’Cause she did not sound happy when we were there.”

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“She’s my mate. I need to be with her.” He could feel Ricky staring at him, but fortunately, the bear didn’t say a word. No, he turned the car around and started back the way they’d come. Grant felt a tingle of anticipation. It wouldn’t be easy making the stubborn woman realize they were meant for each other, but he’d manage it. Somehow. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed to break the spell on his piercing and it wasn’t important right now, but he’d find out. Somehow. **** “As much as I’d love to hang around and watch Izzy’s life implode, we have work to do,” Saga said as she paced around the kitchen. “What did Queen Albreda say anyway?” Izzy asked because that had to be the reason they were here. “The Council, Ruby, and Queen Albreda met two days ago. It seems your…um, mate may have stumbled upon a conspiracy to wipe out several top-notch Veilerians at one time.” She raised one of her hands when Izzy opened her mouth. “Don’t even ask for details, Izzy. You’re out, remember? All I can tell you is that we’re here and we’ll take care of it.” Izzy blinked up at Saga, not sure she’d heard correctly. Rosetta looked the other way when Izzy glanced at her. “What? You mean…I can’t even help?” “You can’t help. In fact, you should have been at the Black Dog Camp, not here, but I’ll overlook that because he’s your mate.” Saga shook her head, her eyes filled with sadness. “But I can’t let you do anything else. You’re not part of the tribe right now, Izzy. You’re outcast until you learn how to control yourself.” “But…I was the one who brought this to the Council and Queen Albreda’s attention! This is my op!”

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Again, her mentor shook her head and as Izzy watched, she cloaked herself in authority. “If it would’ve just been the song at the get-together, Queen Albreda might have let you in on this, but the email about VP Chief Snow to every Amazon tribe as well as every employee in the Veilerian Protection Agency? She might have let that slide as well. But then you were nearly tagged by the human police after molesting male dancers at Lani’s bachelorette party.” She shook her head sadly. “There’s no in for you on this job, not this time. But because you gave us information that has no doubt saved hundreds of lives, Queen Albreda will give you one final chance to redeem yourself. You can walk away from this now, go to the Snow Blind Camp in the Yukon, or you’re out of the tribe indefinitely.” Shock held her immobile. What had been fun and games had only dug a hole her queen seemed ready toss her into. They weren’t just keeping her out of the operation, they were going to kick her out of the tribe if she didn’t follow the queen’s directives. She felt…numb. This was it. She could tell by the shadows in Saga’s eyes that what she decided now would follow her for the rest of her life. She didn’t want to make that choice. She’d fucking mated Grant whether she’d intended to or not. She wasn’t sure where they were going from here, but she wasn’t ready to give up. Not quite yet. She…cared about him and dammit, she didn’t want him hurt by the Eturians. She knew he could take care of himself and her tribal sisters were fierce indeed, but they didn’t have the feelings for him that she had. She needed to be here to make sure he was safe. Except, was she ready to give up the tribe? Disobeying the queen’s orders would be considered treason and she’d be outcast. Not just from the Blood Maidens, but from all tribes. She would be an Amazon without a home for the rest of her life, and if things didn’t work out with Grant—which she suspected they wouldn’t since he’d taken off—she wouldn’t have anyone. Her eyes wandered from Saga to Rosetta. Her two best friends had stood by her side through everything, they were her true sisters.

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Leaving the tribe meant giving them up, giving up on everything they’d been through together. It also meant cutting ties with everyone she’d met through the Blood Maidens—Ruby and Lucian, Connor and Piper, Malachi and Lani, and all of their children. The family she’d discovered after years of roaming. She’d have to give them all up to stay with Grant…who might or might not care enough about her to be with her forever. The silence in the room was deafening as she weighed her decisions. The tribe was everything to an Amazon. Mates joined the tribe, becoming part of the community. Grant would never leave his parents to join her. Even if she stayed with him, she wouldn’t be part of her tribe. What to do? It boiled down to one simple question: How strongly did she feel about Grant? The answer was simple. She didn’t know. Without a word to her friends, Izzy stood and walked to the room Grant had given her. She wanted to shower, but chances were she’d end up changing her mind if she saw the bathroom. They’d pleasured each other in there earlier in the day. In the room, she pulled out her uniform, dressing in the leather pants and moccasins she’d made with her own hands. Then came the tunic. Normally they’d wear a leather halter, but in the freezing temperatures, she was able to wear the tunic she’d made when she first joined the Blood Maidens. She ran her fingers over the crest burnt into the right shoulder of the top. A tree bent nearly backwards by an unseen wind, it was a reminder to Izzy that she’d withstood many harsh times in her life. The loss and death of her mother, the numerous tribes and friends she’d made and lost through her nomadic years. Everything she’d experienced, she’d survived. She yanked the tunic over her head, pulling her hair out from the neckline and into a careless ponytail. She packed her duffle bag,

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forcing herself not to think about what she was doing. No, she wouldn’t think about Grant and what might have been. Her future was on the line. Without solid evidence that he was meant to be a part of it, she couldn’t risk permanently alienating her tribe. Izzy shook her head. It was no use thinking about it. She’d made her decision and as hard as it would be, she’d live with it. Hells, she’d survived without anyone before, she’d survive again. She swung the duffle over her shoulder and entered the living room. Saga and Rosetta stood together, their heads close as they spoke. Fallon leaned against the wall next to the front door. The three of them looked up as she walked out. Yeah, she’d expected them to be surprised, but the utter shock on Fallon’s face, she could’ve done without. Giving a mental shrug, Izzy headed for the front door. She stopped at the threshold, taking one last look at Grant’s home. Funny how comfortable she’d become here in such a short time. He’d given her a warm, comfortable place to stay that had somehow become like her own home, more so than her tent back in the Blood Maidens’ camp. She was sure the accommodations in the Yukon wouldn’t be half as nice. Izzy straightened her shoulders. “Take care of him, okay? ’Cause, you know, he’s a good guy.” She cleared her throat which had become strangely tight. “Watch out for his parents, too. Ormond might want to go after them to persuade Grant to do whatever it is he wants.” “What should we tell him, Izzy?” Rosetta asked as Izzy stepped out onto the porch. Early afternoon sunlight broke through the clouds, spilling over Grant’s land as though bathing it in blessings. Damn, she was going to miss this place! Her heart ached like a son of a bitch. She rubbed the spot absently. What should they tell Grant? “Tell him he can keep BOB.”

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She shut the door behind her, leaning back against the wood for support. Was she really doing this? Leave Grant without telling him? She thought about her tribe. Yeah, she supposed she was. Well, wasn’t she wonderful. Mate the male and walk out on him. Yeah, he’d love that. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Izzy fumbled for her car keys as she stalked to her car. She had to get out of here. The Yukon was waiting for her. How…exciting. Once the Tahoe was started and she had it in gear, she couldn’t help but look at Grant’s house again. Dammit. She felt as though she was leaving something really important behind and it wasn’t BOB. No, it was Grant. That damned irritating, arrogant, sweet bull had gotten under her skin. Like a tick. Izzy spun out of the front yard, flinging snow and mud left and right. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall. She was doing the right thing. She knew she was. Grant was destined for some sweet, little cow-swan…whore who’d make his life nice and comfortable. A tear spilled down her cheek. Grant’s life was here in this boring, freezing cold country. He had roots here, he had family. He had a mother who would continue to smother him until he was so dependent on her, he couldn’t feed himself. Another tear spilled. No, she was doing the right thing. If he had decided to make a life with her, it still wouldn’t have worked. Grant was better off without someone like Izzy in his life. He had his company which required him to rub elbows with important people. He’d shared the big dreams he had for his security company with her, and after watching him for the past few days, she knew he deserved to see those dreams come true. She’d only get in his way by saying something inappropriate, or playing the wrong song at the wrong time.

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Another tear spilled and Izzy took a deep, shuddering breath. Resolution powered through her. It was better for Grant. She might not be able to leave for herself, but for him, she could. Her eyes dried up as she reached the end of Grant’s drive. It was fortunate, too, because that was the exact moment all four of her tires blew. Izzy gritted her teeth as she struggled to keep the heavy SUV from flipping over. The backend fishtailed dangerously close to the steep ditch next to the highway, but she managed to keep the car on the road. Heart pounding a hundred miles a minute, she brought her vehicle to a controlled stop, gravel and snow crunching under her shredded tires. What the hell had taken out all four tires at once? Curious, she climbed out of the SUV and walked towards the end of Grant’s drive. The snow was slush from the vehicles coming and going, so it was difficult to see anything. Izzy crouched where she suspected her tires had blown, carefully brushing the snow from the ground, she discovered sharp spikes planted just beneath the surface. Huh. Who would do something like— A soft rustling sound from the bushes next to the drive spun Izzy around, but she was too late. She caught a glimpse of a dreadfully familiar face a split second before sharp pain lanced across the back of her head. Stars dotted her eyesight as she fell to the ground at the feet of the one male who wanted her dead and wouldn’t care how much it hurt to get her that way.

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Chapter Twenty-Four Grant fidgeted in the seat as Ricky drove them back to the ranch. He wanted to be with Isola right now, wanted to be sure she understood they were permanently bonded. His heart thundered with hope and anticipation. The ring had fallen out. That had to mean she cared for him, possibly even loved him. “You need to drive faster.” Ricky sighed deeply and nudged the car a little faster. “She isn’t going anywhere, cuz. Just relax, okay? You don’t want her to think she has you wrapped around her little finger or anything, do you?” He shrugged. “I am wrapped around her little finger and I don’t care if she knows or not. She’s my mate.” “You’re making a mistake.” Now he was getting pissed. “She is my mate, dammit!” “I didn’t—Hey! No horns in the car!” Grant shook his head, surprised to realize his body had begun to shift into his half-man form at the slightest hint that someone would challenge his right to mate Isola. He had to concentrate on calming himself to reverse the shift. Yeah, horns in the car would be a bad idea. “Got it together again?” Ricky asked in a voice laced with laughter. “What did you mean?” Grant couldn’t help the low growl in his words. He didn’t like the thought that Ricky might not approve of his mating. He genuinely cared what his cousin thought about his mate.

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“I meant you’re making a mistake in dealing with her. If she knows you have it this bad for her, you’ll be her bitch for eternity. Do you really want that?” Ah, now he got it. Ricky, whose mother had wrestled the power away from his father in their relationship, lived in fear of being caught by a strong woman. Grant pondered that for a while. Isola had him good. He knew it, but he didn’t mind. She didn’t want to control him. Oh, she was bossy as all hell, but it was in a fun, adorable way, and he always ignored commands he didn’t want to hear. “You’ll understand when you’re mated,” he finally told Ricky as the bear turned the car into Grant’s drive. He snorted. “I’m not getting mated. That’s a minotaur thing. You guys get that cow-love look in your eyes and that’s it. Bears are different.” “We’ll see.” They didn’t speak again until they reached the house. Grant tried his best not to flip out when he saw Isola’s SUV was gone. Maybe her friends had borrowed it to go to the Black Dog Camp. She had to still be here, if only so she could kick his ass. He was out the car a split second after Ricky pulled to a stop. He didn’t even bother closing the car door behind him in his rush to see Isola, to beg forgiveness, and to get her cranky ass back in bed to finish the mating dance. “Isola!” he shouted as he stormed through his front door. The two Amazons were there as was the incubus. He ignored them and started for the bedroom. She was here, had to be. “Mr. Strickland,” Isola’s leader called to him as he walked by. He waved his hand at her. “Later. I need to talk to Isola.” “She’s not here.” Grant stopped cold in his tracks. She wasn’t here? He folded his arms over his chest as he turned to face the trio. “Where’d she go?” The drag queen wouldn’t meet his eyes. The incubus looked at him with mingling of admiration and pity. The female though, she

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was rock solid and hard to read. He couldn’t tell if she was sorry, happy, or didn’t give a rat’s ass. “She’s outcast from the tribe. She has nothing to do with the problems you’ve found yourself in the middle of.” She didn’t back down from his growl, instead lifting an eyebrow at him as though she dared him to attack. “You’ve managed to stumble on a very big problem, Mr. Strickland. The Veilerian High Council has sent me and my associates”—she gestured to the drag queen and incubus—“to protect you from further kidnapping attempts until the person behind the attacks is stopped.” “Where’s Isola?” he asked again because he wanted to give her a chance to tell him. He’d track his mate down if he had to, but it would waste valuable time. The Amazon ignored him as though he didn’t exist. “The Council has sent in their best Guardian Elites to search for and capture the person of interest. Until then, you’ll have to stay here where we can easily protect you.” She paced in front of him, apparently having no idea she put her life in danger with every word she uttered. “We’ll also post guards at your parents’ home to protect them in case someone tries to use them as bait for you. In the meantime, I want you to tell me exactly what happened with those nymphs and anything else you’ve learned since then.” Grant didn’t answer, causing the Amazon to spin around and glare at him. “Well?” she asked placing her hands on her hips. He arched an eyebrow at her. “Where’s my mate?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Izzy’s whereabouts aren’t important right now since she isn’t part of this operation. Now, tell me what those nymphs sai—” Grant’s hand around her throat cut her off mid-word. He didn’t want to hurt her, but Isola’s location was more important than anything else. He tugged the Amazon towards him though it was more like she came to him on her own, her blue eyes flashing fire.

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“Where. Is. My. Mate.” He didn’t even see the fist that crashed into his nose, too focused on the Amazon’s face. His grip slackened, which gave her the chance to pull away from him. She shook out her hand once she was out of range. “I’ll allow you that since you don’t know better, but next time you grab me, minotaur, I’ll shove your head up your ass. Got it?” Ignoring the blood that poured down his face, he stalked closer to her. “Where is she?” The damned woman didn’t back down. “I told you she isn’t important right now.” “My mate is always important, woman!” “If she’s so important, why did you run out on her, huh?” The new voice drew Grant’s attention away from the woman in front of him and towards the drag queen. He…she must have read surprise in his face because her glare became pointed, lethal. “Yeah, we know she mated you, that you mated her, but that your kind has harems. So what gives, huh? You want to break her heart or something?” “Rosetta,” the other Amazon said in warning. “No, Saga, this big bastard thinks he can just fuck my girl, run away, and then come back acting like he gives a shit? I don’t think so.” Rosetta, the drag queen, stalked up to Grant in fur boots. He blinked. “You think an Amazon takes a mate easily? Huh? You think she shares her mate with anyone? Ha!” The scorn in her eyes would’ve felled a lesser man, but Grant held up. “You don’t deserve her, and once she’s back with her tribe—with people who love her— I’ll make sure she never thinks about you twice. There are plenty of males who’d give their left nut to be with her and I’ll make sure—” Grant roared, the shift surging through him at the thought of some other man touching his mate. He was peripherally aware of Rosetta backing away from him, but it was the thought of Isola making love to another male, of another male seeing his woman in the throes of passion that was foremost in his mind.

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“Did you have to piss him off?” Saga, the cold Amazon, demanded. “Oh, so this is my fault? You’re the one who was ignoring him!” came Rosetta’s strident reply. He bellowed, silencing the two arguing women. Isola. He needed to find her. Now. Ricky stood by the door, shaking his head at the two Amazons. “You guys really did it this time. You realize we won’t be able to stop him until he finds her?” “Good luck with that. She should be halfway to Montana by now,” Saga muttered as she shook her head. Grant grunted, his nostrils quivering, as he dragged in Isola’s scent. It was faint, but unmistakable. He could track her. He hadn’t lied when he said he was good at tracking. He might not be as good as his mate, but he could and would follow that delicious rose scent to hell and back. “What do you mean?” Ricky demanded, moving out of Grant’s way as he headed for the door. Saga sniffed. “She was given the option of staying with the minotaur and being outcast forever, or leaving for the Yukon and being allowed back.” Grant stopped on the threshold at her words. Isola hadn’t been given an option, she’d been given an ultimatum. These last few days with her, he’d discovered just how loyal she was to the same people who punished her. She’d talked a little about her escapades with the Blood Maidens and every time one of her friends had been in trouble, she’d been there. Yes, she was outlandish. She was impulsive, but her heart was pure, her love for her tribe evident in everything she did. Momentarily pulled out of his rage, Grant managed to shift back to his human form. Luckily, the sweats he wore were Ricky’s who was bigger than he was, which meant they hadn’t shredded completely when he shifted. He didn’t want Isola’s friends to see him buck-ass naked more than they had to.

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He turned to them, listening as Saga and Ricky argued back and forth about how far Isola could have gotten since she left. He didn’t know why they’d argue about it and he didn’t care. “You got something to add, bull?” Rosetta challenged, her face set in taut lines. “Yeah, I do.” He looked to Saga, who ignored Ricky to listen to what he had to say. “Your tribe doesn’t deserve Isola. I might not deserve her either, but at least I love her and want her to be herself. You’re trying to change her into something she’ll never be, never satisfied with the joy she brings to you, and you want to mold her into a pale imitation of herself.” He shook his head. “And she mated me, but Little Miss Can’t-Stay-Out-of-Rooms,” he said with a pointed look at Rosetta, “interrupted before I could ask her to stay with me. But she is my mate. She might not believe it, you might not believe it, but nothing will stop me from making her happy for the rest of her fucking life.” With that said, Grant headed out the door, following his nose to his mate. **** Inside the house, Ricky stared at Saga. Damn, but that was one fine woman! Too bossy and independent for him, of course, but a man could look, couldn’t he? The incubus sighed deeply as though he’d seen this all before and wasn’t interested. The Cajun hadn’t said a single word since Ricky and Grant had shown up and it wasn’t until now that the bear remembered he was even in the room. “Can we call the queen now?” Fallon asked in a tired voice. The Amazons ignored him, talking to each other in hushed voices. Good thing Ricky had excellent hearing because it was a conversation he wouldn’t have missed for the world. “Good job, brain trust,” Rosetta hissed at Saga. “I can’t believe you told him what Queen Albreda planned for Izzy. Now he’s out

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there like some…some white knight charging to the rescue. That was not part of the plan!” Saga’s eyes were bright with surprise and anger. “I know it wasn’t part of the damned plan, but I had to find out how he felt about her, didn’t I? Albreda suspected something was up between them and now we know.” “We know that Izzy thinks she’s out of the tribe.” Rosetta spoke through her teeth, glaring straight in her friend’s eyes. “You promised we wouldn’t use that threat unless things were really bad.” Saga’s ivory shoulder lifted in a shrug. Ricky’s mouth watered at the sight of the lean muscles beneath the taut skin. He could almost taste her. “Izzy’s hardheaded, you know that as well as I do. If we’re ever going to become aunts, we need to take drastic measures. Now the minotaur is out there doing exactly what we wanted him to, and Izzy is doing what we need her to do—think about how she feels about him. Simple.” “You’re both couillon,” the Cajun inserted with an aggrieved sigh. “Ma fouine was deeply hurt, not just because of having to leave her taureau, but because she does not want to leave her sisters. Si c'est pas les maringouins, c'est les chaboulures.” “What’d he say?” Ricky asked as he absorbed all the information he’d learned. Saga turned, looking at him with wide blue eyes that narrowed dangerously. “You’re still here.” He shrugged and fought off the urge to glower at her for forgetting he was in the room. “Of course I’m still here, I want to know what the hell’s going on!” She took a step forward. “You were supposed to follow your cousin out of here.” “Yogi done screwed up,” Rosetta muttered as she checked her makeup in her compact.

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“What the hell’s going on?” Ricky roared because enough was enough. These Amazons were driving him insane! Fallon clucked and sauntered towards them. “I said ‘There’s always something wrong. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.’ Which loosely translates to, you just let the most important person in this operation go.” He shook his head at Ricky and left the house. “Idiot.” “He’s a man, Saga, he’s going to screw things up.” Rosetta snapped her compact closed and pulled out her sword. “We can castrate him now or we can go after the bull. Which do you want to do?” Saga shook her head at Rosetta and strolled towards the front door. Ricky stepped in her path. She kept walking until she was mere inches away from him. He could feel the warmth from her body drawing him like a magnet. He wanted her something awful, but there was no way in the nine hells he’d end up with a woman just like his mother. Not ready for her to know how much he wanted her, Ricky glared down at her. “Where are you going?” She was cool as ice though, his Amazon. No, not his Amazon. She was a pain in the ass, that’s what she was. Her and her sisters. She looked him up and down, her expression shielded. “I’m going to make sure my sister gets her mate.” She pushed past him with Rosetta on her heels. The drag queen stopped and shot him a come-hither look. “If you want to follow with one of your hawt deputies, I’d love for someone to um, hold my sword.” “Rosetta! You’re such a whore!” Saga shouted from the front yard. “I am not a whore. Izzy’s the whore. I’m just easy.” The door slammed behind the drag queen, leaving a very confused Kodiak bear all alone. “What just happened?” Ricky asked the empty room.

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**** Grant followed Isola’s departure to the end of his drive. He frowned, sniffing the air carefully. His nose sorted the scents. Isola had stopped for some reason and someone had met her here? He frowned, tracking and backtracking over the site. The snow was slush, and he and Ricky had driven through here not long ago which meant any footprints were obliterated. He walked along the road towards town a ways, trying to see if he could find anything and discovered a spot where a vehicle had almost gone off the road. He recognized the tire treads as belonging to Isola’s Tahoe and cold fear struck him. Had she been in an accident? He shook his head. No. He could clearly see where she fought for control of the car and pulled it back on the road. He jogged over to the spot and that’s when he saw it—a heavy footprint too big to be Isola’s. He crouched low, sniffing the tread, and his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. Bear. But not a local bear. He backtracked again, trying to see where the footprints had come from and was rewarded yet again, but not in a good way. Closer to the entrance of the driveway, there was a small impression in the snow and a droplet of blood on the muddy snow. His heart pounded as he bent to dab at the drop. Even before he lifted it to his nose, he knew it was Isola’s. Rage and anguish beat like a drum in his chest. His mate had been hurt, taken by the kind of shifters she feared the most. “Taureau!” The Cajun incubus ran up to him, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of blood on Grant’s finger. “Where is ma fouine?” “I don’t know. Bears took her.” Grant was having trouble speaking, but knew he needed to share the information he’d learned. Once again, his father’s wisdom reminded him not to be too proud to

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ask for help. With his mate’s life on the line, Grant had no pride. “They stopped her car somehow and hit her. They hit her.” Fallon nodded once, his eyes dark with promised retribution. “We will find them, taureau, I promise.” Grant barely heard the incubus’s words, his whole body concentrating on the extremely fragile bond his mate had formed with him. He could feel where she’d joined with him, but because their bond was so new, he couldn’t use the bond to track her. He fell to his knees in the middle of the road, clenching wet slush between his fingers. Gods, he’d messed this up so bad. The one time Isola needed him and he couldn’t follow her! His roar of frustrated agony echoed across the countryside, startling the wildlife that stilled. It was the sound of a beast denied his mate and vowing to destroy anything that stood between them.

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Chapter Twenty-Five Splash! Izzy spluttered and shook her head. What the hell? She tried reaching up to wipe the water out of her eyes. So help her, if that bull thought he was going to start wetting her while she was sleeping… But she couldn’t move her arms. She tugged, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. Seriously, what the hell? She looked up and around. Blurred figures surrounded her. The water that had gone up her nose flowed out again and she was able to take her first breath of air. Animal musk, a slightly sweet scent, the smell of freshly turned earth. Bears. And one of them, she remembered. Her brain felt sluggish and her memories were fragmented, but she distinctly remembered seeing Dov’s face before she was knocked out. The muscles in her throat contracted sharply, fear weighing heavily on her chest. The terror spell at work and if she couldn’t get her act together, she’d end up passing out, leaving herself at Dov’s not so tender mercies. She shuddered. Dov made tsking sounds over her. “No warm greeting for an old family friend, Izzy? Your mum would be disappointed.” The false heartiness in his voice made her gag. She could almost feel his hatred of her, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what he planned to do to her. Mentioning Trianna was another way for him to hurt her and she bled a little inside at the thought of the mother she once had. “What do you want, Dov?” she asked with false bravado. Her fear was a tangled knot inside her chest. It threatened to suffocate her, but she would not go down without a fight. For a

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fleeting second, she wished she could’ve told Grant good-bye, but she shoved the thought away. “Leave us,” Dov ordered the other bears that left, but not before leering at Izzy. She took a quick moment to see where she was. It was a shack or shed. Devoid of everything but the bare essentials: cot, small woodburning stove, and weapons. She stared at the guns and swords longer than she meant to before moving her gaze along the shack. It had to be some kind of line shack which meant they were probably in the middle of friggin’ nowhere. She was in the middle of nowhere with Dov and his bear flunkies. She forced herself to appear unconcerned, but inside, she was a quivering mess. She didn’t want to know what those bears planned even though she had a strong suspicion. Dov pulled up a chair in front of her and seated himself with a smile. He’d aged some since the last time she saw him, but she could still see the handsome young lad she’d teased mercilessly before her spirit walk. They’d explored each other’s bodies and sexuality. At the time, Izzy had thought they were going to be mates, but after watching Trianna change at Dov’s father’s hands, Izzy had blocked any tender feelings for him. “Isola Malone,” he said with a satisfied sigh. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” Brown eyes regarded her lazily, though she knew better than to think he was relaxed. No, she saw the predator in his gaze and knew he only waited to attack. “You’ve grown into a fine lass, a bit more bottom than you used to have.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Are you going to tell me I have a fat ass, too?” He laughed, the sound was rusty as though he hadn’t done it in a long time. “Ah, Isola, you always were a joy to be around.” His lips twitched as though remembering some of her more youthful antics. Then, just like that, the light died in his eyes leaving them cold and menacing. “Until you killed my clan.”

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“I didn’t kill them, dammit! Your crazy father did that.” His nostrils flared with the rage that filled his eyes. “My father tried to teach you your proper place in the family. Your disrespect cost me the life of my father and brothers and sisters. And now,” he leaned forward, his voice a soft whisper of sound, “now, I’m going to take everything from you, Isola Malone—your tribe sisters, your friends.” Izzy’s heart thundered as blood roared in her ears. No, he couldn’t wipe out an entire Amazon tribe. It was impossible. “And your mate.” She froze, her heart slowing to an unnaturally calm rhythm. “What mate?” Dov smirked at her, his eyes strangely hungry. “At one time I thought you were my life mate. When Da told me he was mating your mother, I imagined taking you as mine. I could have trained you to listen to me, trained you to be the perfect mate, but you went back to your tribe.” His lip curled in disgust. “It’s unnatural for females to war like men. I would have gone after you, but Da said not to, that you’d come to me.” Izzy was flummoxed. He’d wanted to mate her? Seriously? And turn her into some kind of Stepford wife? “You must’ve been out of your mind. There’s no way I would’ve gone along with that.” “You would have if I had beaten you every day.” He stood, towering over her, his size blocking out most of the light. “I would have broken you until you saw me as your lord and master just as Da did your mother. You think it was easy to break an Amazon as old as she?” He laughed. “Trianna was taught to obey her mate. You would have been much easier to train, as young as you were.” One of his big hands reached out to graze her cheek. “My world changed when you brought death to my family. I had no one, nothing, except the need to punish you for taking them away from me, for defying me.” Izzy shook her head, her skin crawling where he’d touched her. “You’re crazy.”

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An unholy light lit his brown eyes. “I’ve waited nearly a hundred years to teach you as much pain as you’ve taught me, Isola Malone, and I plan to enjoy every second of it.” A knock sounded on the door seconds before it was thrust open by one of the other bears. “Dov, there’s someone coming.” Dov blinked slowly as though coming out of a trance. “Send out a couple of men. Kill them.” The bear’s eyes slid to Izzy. “What if it’s the minotaur?” “Bring him alive, I have plans that don’t involve our employer. Anyone else dies.” “Yes, sir.” The door closed again, leaving Izzy alone with Dov. Her strange calm was displaced by fear. She knew it was either Grant, or her sisters, or both. They’d come after her and Dov planned to kill them. She couldn’t let that happen. She needed to get free and protect them. She needed a plan. **** Grant looked over at the strange little fairy who led them across the countryside. She had gray skin, black wings, and brilliant green eyes. She also seemed to be the only person who could find his mate. “Shikoba, are you sure this is the right direction?” Saga breathed the question into the late afternoon air. The fairy smiled tightly. “Yes. She’s somewhere up ahead.” When Saga and Rosetta found out about Isola’s kidnapping, they’d leaped into action calling other Amazons from their tribe and the small shadow fairy. Grant had taken one look at the strange Shikoba Fayard and wondered what was wrong with his mate’s sisters, but after following her for two hours, he was thankful they’d called her. She wasn’t just a shadow fairy, but a Shadow Knight with the ability to find anyone she targeted. It was a talent well-used by

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assassins, but in this case she was rescuing someone. Grant was almost tempted to kiss her for helping him. The two other Amazons they’d called in had arrived with vials of liquid they called “Smell Be Gone.” Grant hadn’t wanted to drink it, but Rosetta and Saga had assured him the potion was safe and necessary to keep the bears from sniffing them out. “It’s not on the market yet,” Rosetta had said as she waited for Grant to drink the potion. Once he did, she’d added, “It’s said one of the side effects of the potion is that it makes your cock enormous and—Oh my God! It works!” Her wide-eyed gaze had nearly burned a hole through the crotch of his jeans. “The Veilerian Drug Administration needs to give Mortimer Fairchild a medal.” Grant had blushed just as the drag queen had intended. It had broken some of the ice between them, but preparations for infiltrating an unknown encampment had taken over from then. Isola’s sisters were smart, crafty, and willing to do whatever necessary to get her back. “I wish we had Malachi with us,” Rosetta suddenly muttered as she strained to see into the distance. “He could have portaled to her.” “And whoever has her would have felt the portal forming and either set a trap, or run,” Saga reminded her friend in a soft voice. “We have to move in fast and hard if we have any chance of saving Izzy.” Ricky muttered something about “fast and hard,” but everyone ignored him. The bear had been particularly grumpy since he joined them, although Grant couldn’t find out why. And right now, it wasn’t important. They had to get Izzy from the bears. Then they could deal with everything else, like the completion of the bond, finding out who was after Grant, and how he was going to tell his mother he was a one-woman bull. “Someone’s coming,” Shikoba hissed as she crouched down behind a fallen log.

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The group fell to the ground as one. Grant, Ricky, Fallon, four Amazons, and one Shadow Knight. It wasn’t a big rescue group and they had not a single Guardian Elite with them, but Grant knew they could do it. Snow crunched under heavy feet as the newcomers approached. Grant scented the air and felt the rage he’d barely held in check slam through him again. He recognized the smell of the bears who’d taken his mate. It wasn’t all of them, but there was no forgetting that scent. He tensed to charge forward, but Saga grabbed his arm. She shook her head slightly, her blue eyes narrowed on the approaching bears. Grant wanted to argue with her, wanted to shake her hand off his arm, but he didn’t. There was something in her gaze that promised pain to those who’d taken her sister. He sat back. Well, at least he now knew Isola’s sisters cared about her as much as she cared about them. They might be seriously messed up in the head and have strange ways of showing how much they loved each other, but love they did. He supposed he should get used to it if he was going to spend any time with the strange women. “…trouble if he keeps playing around,” one bear with a massive beard told the other as they tramped towards them. They were too arrogant to think anyone could possibly lie in wait for them, and that was to Grant’s group’s advantage. Enraged and startled bears were not easy to defeat, and if his nose was correct, these were grizzlies, which meant they were tough as nails. Not good. “Stop complaining and do as you’re told,” the other bear countered as he paused. “We’ll each have a turn with her before she dies and no one will know.” “What about that minotaur? We’re not supposed to kill him, but I think Dov is planning to. We don’t get paid if he dies, remember?” Bear Two paused again, his eyes on the ground. “That’s true. Well, we just won’t let Dov kill him.” “Have you ever seen Dov in a rage?” “No, why?”

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“It’s like—” A loud explosion rocked the woods, sending both bears to the ground. Grant and his group huddled closer to the ground as a blast of massive heat roared through the air over their heads. He’d never felt anything like it in his life. What the hell had caused an explosion like that? And why did he have the nasty suspicion Isola was at the heart of it? The bears regained their feet, their gazes concentrated behind them. “I think that was our stash of ammunitions,” Beard muttered darkly as his eyes searched the woods around them. “There’s no one out here,” the other one mumbled as he started back the direction from which they came. “Ben sent us out here for nothing.” Beard didn’t follow right away, his keen eyes sweeping the landscape. Grant held his breath, certain the bear would discover them, but after several tense minutes, he too started back in the direction of the explosion. The group waited another few seconds though Grant was chafing to follow. Isola was where the explosion was, he knew it as surely as he knew he loved her more than life. Please don’t let her be hurt, he prayed to the gods. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Saga gave the signal for them to move out. They crept through the woods, following the bears back to their encampment. The closer they came, the stronger the scent of brimstone and ash became. The trees were burnt to a crisp in a perfect half-circle. The snow had melted, leaving a muddy mess behind. Grant noted all of this, but his focus was on the large field at the edge of the woods. Bears fought against…nymphs. He stopped dead in his tracks, everyone else following suit. “What the hell?” Saga breathed as she took in the ferocious fighting going on.

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Not able to help the smugness he felt, he looked at them. “Isola and I told you.” **** Izzy cursed as her knees buckled again. Dov didn’t even pause, pulling her through the tunnels beneath the shack. The explosion had tossed him on top of her which had broken the chair she’d been tied to. She’d tried to get away from him, but the wily bear had tackled her and cuffed her on the back of the head with one of his gigantic fists. It was nearly impossible to walk with her hands tied behind her back and her feet shackled together, but she tried. She thought she’d finally caught the rhythm, but no such luck. She stumbled, falling to her knees behind Dov. He just tightened his grip on her arm and dragged her. “Ouch, you bastard! I’m getting stone burn here!” Her leathers had shredded at some point during the explosion and escape attempt. The tunnel was solid rock and no one had bothered putting soft carpeting down on the floor to protect helpless Amazons from getting their legs torn up. “You’ll get more than that if you don’t shut up and walk,” Dov said absently. His head was held high as he scented this way and that. “Who blew up your shit anyway?” She knew it wasn’t her people. She was the only Amazon in her tribe with the demolitions bug and she seriously doubted the Council would want to make a big Hollywood-type production of a simple rescue mission. Besides, the heat that had nearly cooked them alive had been scented with magic. It had been no chemical accident, but a fire bearer who’d set off that explosion. So either the killer nymphs had come back for round two, or someone pissed off a fire elemental. Izzy stopped, forcing Dov to throw her over his shoulder to keep moving. Fire elemental. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Ormond Steele was a fire elemental—one of the most powerful beings in the

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Veil. Elementals were their elements, they lived and breathed it and only another elemental could defeat them. But why would Ormond be after Izzy and Dov? It was Grant who’d been the original target. She stared at the flagstones as Dov carted her down the corridor. So maybe it wasn’t Ormond, but someone else. But who— “Dov,” a feminine voice purred from somewhere ahead. A jolt went through Dov at the sound of the voice and he tensed as though faced with another predator. Izzy tried twisting in his hold to see who could have Dov so freaked out, but the most she did was hit herself in the face with her ponytail. “Avyn.” Avyn? “This isn’t the minotaur, Dov.” He fidgeted, which was a very unpleasant sensation for Izzy. She closed her eyes as nausea flooded her. It was like being on a very small boat in a very big ocean. Bleurgh. “I know this isn’t the minotaur,” Dov muttered as he shuffled his feet slightly. “She’s bait.” “Bait.” “Yes, they’re mated.” Even as he said the words, the arm clamped around Izzy’s legs tightened. If she hadn’t been so sick to her stomach, she would’ve protested the hold, but as it was, she just moaned a bit. He needed to put her down or she’d hurl all over his back, which he so deserved. “And just where were you going with your…bait, Dov?” “I don’t answer to you, woman,” Dov growled taking a step forward. “No, but you do answer to Ormond and I’m almost positive he said he wanted the minotaur, not some overly rounded Amazon.” Overly rounded! Oh these people were just asking to have their asses kicked! “I want the Amazon.”

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There was a beat of silence as though the woman was surprised. Then she spoke again. “That doesn’t signify at this moment, Dov. You failed to bring the minotaur on the specified date and you know how Ormond deals with those who fail him.” “The minotaur is on his way.” “But he isn’t here now, is he? No, I’m afraid you and your clan are off this case. Permanently.” Izzy landed on the ground with a thud and a moan seconds before the sounds of battle echoed down the corridor. She didn’t spare the combatants a single glance. Instead, she used their distraction to look for something to cut through the rope looped around her wrists. Spying a jagged piece of stone along the wall, she wiggled to it and sawed at the rope. She couldn’t look at the fight, couldn’t let herself be diverted by what was happening. No, she had to focus on getting free. After that, she could deal with everything else. Izzy lost count of how many times she cut herself on the ragged stone, but eventually she felt the rope slacken until she could break the threads. She winced as she brought her arms around to untie the link of rope around her ankles. She couldn’t stop, not now. Grant and her sisters were coming. She knew they were, could almost feel them in the air, and she didn’t want them walking into an ambush filled with Eturians and Eturian sympathizers. Her frantic scrambling to get free blinded her to the atmosphere, and then she sensed it. Something was wrong, well more than what she already knew. She paused with her fingers on the knot between her ankles. It was silent. The fight had ended, but who had won?

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Chapter Twenty-Six “Should we um…wow, I’ve never seen nymphs fight before,” Saga said in a wondering tone. “They really suck at it.” Grant had to agree. The females, whom he recognized from his botched kidnapping, were losing to the bears, but they didn’t go down easily. There were flames erupting all over the place, holes forming beneath the bears’ feet, and one enterprising nymph had filled one of the holes with water to try and drown the bears. Overall, it was the worst pitched battle Grant had ever seen in his life. It was hard to tear his eyes away from the train wreck, but he did because his mate was still in danger. The rest of the group watched the fight with dismay. They still hadn’t believed nymphs were responsible for his kidnapping, but now they saw for themselves— these were no ordinary nymphs. “I want to get Isola and get out.” He looked at Shikoba, whose eyes were round as half dollars. “Is she still here?” Her green eyes narrowed as she stared passed the fighting figures. “Yes, but the trail is muted, like she’s surrounded by something.” Grant didn’t want to think about what that meant, so instead, he thought about how they were going to get across the field of battle to the small shack in the distance. The others, apparently, were wondering the same thing. Shikoba could dissolve to shadow and slip across unseen, but the rest of them were SOL. “Thoughts?” he asked Saga, who glared at the combatants. “We’d be seriously outnumbered if we tried to contain them, so we can’t just waltz out there.” She looked at the perimeter of the field, which was littered with blackened husks of trees. “The Smell Be

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Gone will wear off in about twenty minutes, so we need to get out there before the bears catch our scent.” “I can get to the area right before the shack,” Fallon murmured, his eyes on the door. “As long as I see where I’m going, I can get there with no problem.” It was a battle not to demand the incubus stay behind, but Grant managed. This operation was bigger than jealousy, and he wanted Isola safe. If the incubus could get there and at least check on her… “Do it.” Fallon’s silver eyes flicked to Grant and a small smile played around his mouth. “Are you sure, taureau?” “Just make sure she’s safe. We’ll be right behind you.” Somehow. “Don’t engage,” Saga warned as she stepped closer to the incubus. Ricky growled softly, but no one paid him any mind. “We don’t know how many are in there with her and the last thing we need is to lose the New Orleans Sin Den Master.” Fallon stiffened as though insulted, but he must have seen the same concern in her face Grant did because the incubus relaxed. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Mais, oui, I can do that.” He saluted the group. “See you there.” The incubus disappeared in a puff of sandalwood-scented smoke that had the Amazons and shadow fairy sniffing the air appreciatively. Grant squinted across the field and between one moment and the next Fallon appeared in front of the door of the shack. He crouched beneath the small window next to the door and peeked in before sinking back down. Fallon turned towards them and gave a shake of his head. Isola wasn’t in the shack. Grant’s hands tightened into fists. Where was she? “What’re we watchin’?” The deep, gravelly voice startled the group into jumping. As a unit, they whirled around on the newcomer, weapons and fangs drawn. Grant slumped. It was Duffy.

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“What are you doing here?” he demanded of the demon lord, waving at the others to relax. Duffy swiped the sleeve of his shirt under his nose. “Eh, been tryin’ to track your girlfriend down to talk to her about that terror spell on her.” “Terror spell?” Saga and Rosetta echoed, exchanging a startled glance. “Yeah, someone cursed the girl. Wanted to let her know Glenda got a call. It seems the warmage who cast the spell was killed in a bear mauling, so she should feel the effects of the spell wear off soon.” The demon lord frowned at the field behind Grant’s group. “Are those nymphs?” “Yes,” everyone said in unison. “Huh. Just when you think you’ve seen it all,” Duffy marveled, scratching his head. Grant didn’t want to discuss anything else. “Can you get us across the field without being seen?” The demon lord studied Grant carefully. “Why would I want to do that?” I will not kill the demon lord. I will not kill the demon lord. He should’ve known Duffy wouldn’t do something just because Grant asked. He opened his mouth to beg the demon lord, but was interrupted by Saga who stepped up to the older and much taller Duffy. “Duffy Sinclair, you old bastard, you’d better get us to that shack, or I’ll make sure everyone knows about that tithe you paid during the Gold Rush.” Grant never thought he’d see the demon lord shocked, but that’s exactly what he looked like as he stared at Saga. “S–Saga Ingvar?” A dangerous smile crossed the Amazon’s face. “It’s Saga DeLacey now, but yes.” She stepped closer to the demon lord. “You either help me and these people get to that shack, or everyone in The Veil will learn about you and—”

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Duffy slapped a hand over Saga’s mouth, the whites of his eyes showing. “Don’t say it! I’ll take you!” Letting out a sigh of relief at Duffy’s strange capitulation, Grant sent Saga a nod of appreciation. She ignored it of course, contrary woman, but he knew from this moment on, he’d do his best to be more tolerant towards her and Rosetta. Duffy shot Saga a mean look before raising his hands to the sky. Demon lords knew spells and magics that the rest of the Veil was uncomfortable with. Everyone shifted slightly as the demon somehow ripped a hole in the fabric of space and time. He entered the tear, dragging the group with him. In mere moments, Grant found himself in front of the shack. Nausea churned his stomach, but he fought down the urge to hurl. Ricky didn’t fare so well, leaning over behind a stack of firewood to puke. Saga glared at the bear, her face green. Duffy was gone, which wasn’t surprising. If Saga had dirt on the demon, he’d want to be as far away from her as possible. Oh well, he shrugged, hopefully the demon wouldn’t close the bar and move somewhere else. He had a feeling he’d need a drink after this operation. “Ma fouine is not inside,” Fallon stated once everyone either emptied their stomachs or controlled their nausea. Grant slipped between Rosetta and one of the other Amazons to peer through the window. It was a mean, primitive room. It was more like a line shack than a cabin with only one room and the necessities to spend the night. It was hard to tell what had been in the room because everything in it had been destroyed. “What’re we waiting on?” Rosetta asked impatiently, her sword in hand. Lifting his foot, Grant kicked the door open. The smell of scorched wood scented the air. It was obvious the explosion they’d heard and felt in the woods had originated somewhere in this area, but the shack remained standing.

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“Must’ve been warded,” Ricky muttered as he followed Grant into the house, pushing Saga aside. Grant stood in the center of the room, breathing deep. The smell of bear was nearly overwhelming and combined with the acrid scent of smoke, it was almost impossible to distinguish other smells. Then he caught a whiff of rose. Isola. She’d been here. Turning back to the others, Grant saw they were studying every part of the room, trying to pinpoint where Isola might have gone. Though he trusted the Amazons and Fallon to find his mate, it was the fairy that caught his eye. She stood in the center of the shack, her eyes laser bright. “There’s a trapdoor in the corner.” Everyone stopped, swiveling around to stare at the fairy walking towards the far corner of the shack. Grant arched an eyebrow at Saga, who shrugged. Shikoba squatted down, moving things out of her way and sure enough, she uncovered a trapdoor. “I can’t tell how many are down there, but it’s a big tunnel,” she muttered as she traced the edges of the trapdoor. Saga stepped forward and gently urged the fairy to her feet. “I need you to get out of here, ’Koba.” The Amazon’s eyes were steady and clear on the fairy. “Go back and tell Lucian about this. Council needs to know there’s more going on here than we originally thought.” The fairy’s eyes were sharp as they studied Saga. “You also don’t want to have to tell Malachi you got me killed.” “Um, right, ’cause your sister would kill us, and I’m not ready to die. Okay?” Shikoba rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She glanced at Grant. “Good luck, minotaur.” “Thank you, Shikoba,” Grant replied, bowing deeply.

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“Kick some ass,” Shikoba told the Amazons, bumping knuckles with Rosetta before she disappeared into the dark shadows of the room. Grant looked at the group left and nodded. This would do nicely for a rescue. Isola would be saved. Even now he could almost feel her through the fragile bond she’d forged with him. “Let’s go get her.” **** Izzy ducked and rolled across the wide corridor, just barely missing the hand that swept down at her. Heart thumping as adrenaline coursed through her body, she pushed to her feet and prepared to defend herself. It was the female, a nymph if her appearance was any indication. Izzy blinked. This little bit of thing had defeated Dov? “So you’re the one my sisters were talking about,” the nymph said as her golden brown eyes assessed Izzy coolly. Feigning indifference, Izzy relaxed against the wall. “You mean the brainless wonders? Yeah, I’ve had the pleasure of wiping the floor with them.” The nymph didn’t rise to the bait. If anything, the look in her eyes said she agreed with Izzy, which was a shocker for sure. She let her eyes drift to the darkened corridor behind the nymph, wondering if Dov was dead. And what did the two of them want Grant for anyway? “You were a part of the equation I didn’t take into account,” Avyn said conversationally as she summoned a ball of fire. It hovered above her hand, the flames greedily licking at the air. “The minotaur would have been easily controlled if you hadn’t interfered.” Izzy snorted. “You obviously don’t know Grant.” She shifted slightly, letting her body loosen. She had a feeling this little conversation wouldn’t last much longer and she wanted to be prepared for the upcoming fight. “The imps were a surprise.”

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A cool smile curled the nymph’s lips. “I wish I could take credit for that, but the bear came up with that disaster.” “And where is Dov?” One of her auburn eyebrows rose. “So you know him. I wondered why he was making off with you.” She cocked her head to the side. “Are you his missing mate?” “Um, no.” Izzy balanced on the balls of her feet. “As far as I know, Dov doesn’t have a mate.” “That’s a shame. It would’ve been fun to torture you for him. Ah well, the best laid plans and all that.” She gave a negligent flick of her hand, sending the ball of fire shooting towards Izzy. Izzy, ready for the attack, sprang away from the wall, just barely avoiding being lit up like a Christmas tree. She was weaponless and sore from Dov’s rough handling, but there was no way she’d let a nymph do her in. It would be like dying at the paws of the Easter Bunny. She was not going out like that. Hells no. With that thought in mind, Izzy ran straight at the nymph. She had to incapacitate the woman, but she had a feeling Avyn was a much better villain than her sisters had been. Two feet away from the nymph, Izzy fell back as a wall of fire appeared between them. Shit. This was exactly what she worried about. Avyn was a cool customer who knew how to use her powers for offense and defense. Izzy scrambled away from the ring of flame. She was a sitting duck out here. She didn’t know if Avyn could maintain the ring and shoot her fireballs, and she didn’t want to find out. As she watched, the ring of fire expanded until it covered a twenty-foot diameter. The flames shot up to varying heights between two feet to eight, scorching the floor, walls, and ceiling of the corridor. The heat from the fire seeped through the tunnel and sweat broke out on Izzy’s face. The nymph looked as though she were taking a stroll through a breezy meadow. Of course the fire wouldn’t affect her, it was her element.

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How to break the crazy bitch’s concentration? As though some divine being heard her question, a large shadow loomed behind the nymph. It rose to terrifying heights with deadly claws and razor sharp teeth. The grizzly bear’s massive body slammed through the flames as though they were nonexistent. Avyn must’ve seen Izzy’s eyes widen because the ring of fire faltered for a moment before she turned around to see the beast lumbering towards her. Her scream of fear echoed along with the feral roar of the bear. **** The group huddled at the foot of the ladder leading into the tunnels. They were in the center of a long hallway that stretched north and south from the ladder. There were no torches, no lanterns, nothing to lighten up the gloom which made the sense of evil and despair clouding the air stifling. It seemed to press down on Grant as he tried to get his bearings. “Is this a spell?” Rosetta asked. Fallon frowned, his silver eyes gleaming in the darkness. “It is something, yes.” Saga, who stood next to Grant, didn’t move, didn’t speak. One look in her eyes and he wondered if the tough Amazon had a phobia about being underground. When she glanced back at him, he saw the wildness and panic growing in her eyes. “You should go back up,” he told her in a low voice so the others wouldn’t hear. She shook her head. “Izzy needs me.” He admired her willingness to overcome her fear for a friend, but he didn’t want any weak links. If they were distracted because Saga freaked out, Isola would suffer for it. “Someone needs to stay here to make sure we’re not followed down.”

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The look she cast him was filled with disbelief and just a hint of relief. “Maybe you’re not a total asshole, minotaur,” she murmured as she took a step away from him. “Saga’s staying here to guard our backs,” Grant announced to the group. Rosetta looked between him and Saga as though she knew what was going on, but surprisingly, she said nothing. “Ricky, you stay with her in case your deputies show up.” Saga’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head at the last bit, but Grant didn’t give her time to protest. Nodding to his cousin, he led the rest of the group to the right of the ladder. There were scuff marks in the dirt that spoke of recent travel. He prayed it was the correct direction. They reached the end of the corridor to see it took a sharp left turn. The air was thick with menace, the darkness lending a spooky feeling to the tunnel. Grant glanced back the direction they’d come from to see Ricky and Saga staring after them. He waved to them before following the corridor. He couldn’t believe there was a system of tunnels like this near his home. It seemed more like the kind of thing you’d see in a Hollywood movie than in Eustis, Wyoming. The stone walls were smooth and worn as though they’d been there for generations. The floor was well-worn and dusty except for the large footprints the group followed. A wall loomed before him before the tunnel jutted off in opposite directions. He didn’t know which way to go, left or right? If they went left again, they’d be closer to where they began. He frowned at the ground, trying to see the footprints, but they were mysteriously absent. Grant froze his body tense as he heard a scream accompanied by the roar of a maddened bear ring through the tunnels. The scream was one of sheer terror. Isola. His heart quickened, pumping adrenaline through his veins. No, he couldn’t lose her. Not yet. He was running down the right corridor before the scream died. The change came over him between one step and another, his hooves falling out of his boots and ringing on the flagstone floor.

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Nearly mindless with the need to reach and protect his mate, Grant stormed down the tunnel, following the rose scent of Isola. In spite of his speed and single-minded focus, his eyes took in the various spots where someone had been dragged through the accumulated dust. At one point, he saw a streak of blood in the dirt and felt his heart stop. Gods, she had to be okay, or he’d go mad. The sharp, metallic scent of blood hovered in the air the further down the tunnel they went. It took all of his strength not to gag at the stench of blood and singed fur. “Shit!” It was Isola’s voice, a hoarse shout followed by the thump of a body falling to the ground. Grant rounded the corner of the tunnel and stopped, not sure what he was seeing. Isola was crumpled against the wall further along the corridor. Her legs were in an awkward sprawl, her head hanging to the side. She looked like a broken rag doll. A grizzly bear faced her with the bloody remains of a female at his feet. The female had been mauled beyond recognition. Blood soaked the ground, spilling towards Grant’s shocked group. A charred circle blackened the stones beneath the body as though a great fire had burned. The bear roared again, the sound feral and angry. It didn’t even notice Grant and his group, his entire focus on Isola’s limp form. She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the massive beast standing in front of her. Grant prayed she was still alive, only unconscious. Not that it would save the bear either way. The bastard had dared to steal Isola, to hurt her. Hands reached out to stop him, but the minotaur charged through them. His mate was in danger and the only thing that stood between them was a grizzly bear with a death wish.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven Izzy felt more than heard Dov roaring at her. There was a ringing in her ears and she couldn’t breathe well. Her mind kept playing back the scene of Dov slaughtering Avyn. She needed to move, to get out of his way. He was in bloodlust, maddened by the burns the nymph had inflicted upon him and lost to his animal. Izzy really liked having her head and arms attached to her body, so she needed to move. Except moving was not something her limbs could do at the moment. She’d tried to slip around Dov while he was busy with Avyn, but he’d slammed her back again and again until finally, he threw her into the wall. She’d cracked her head but good, which was probably why she saw about ten million ugly grizzly bears in front of her. Staring into Dov’s beady brown eyes, Izzy knew this was it. She was looking death straight in the eye and that bullshit about your life passing before your eyes was just that, bullshit. She didn’t see the life she’d lived, she saw the life she could’ve had with Grant. The kids— little monsters with Grant’s smile and her sense of humor, the fights and makeup sex she’d miss out with her mate. The personality clashes with his mother, the budding friendship with his father. She saw it all and wanted it so badly, she dreamed that Grant was in the tunnel with her. Izzy blinked, taking in Grant’s muscled torso, his massive horns, his muscled flanks. He was in his half-man, half-bull form, his fangs bared as he launched himself at the grizzly. Wow, this is some hallucination. Because there was a loud crash as the bear and minotaur met in the center of the corridor. The grizzly

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outweighed the minotaur by a few hundred pounds, but Grant had opposable thumbs. Izzy giggled. Her mate used his massive horns to keep Dov’s teeth away from his face and neck, while he used powerful arms to hold Dov at bay. The two struggled in the center of the tunnel, their grunts and roars drowning out all other sounds. When a masculine face appeared inches from hers, Izzy acted on instinct. Her knee connected with the man’s chin, snapping his head back. Vicious curses in French singed her ears causing her to blink. “Fallon?” “Yes,” he hissed at her, appearing back in her line of sight, though this time he was several feet away. He was bleeding from his lip and a bruise was already forming on his chin. “You will not kick me again?” Izzy tried to shake her head, but her brains almost fell out of her ear. “No, won’t kick you again.” Her voice was slurred as though she’d had too many of Duffy’s Atomic Bombs. “…concussion. Should we move her?” “…away from the…” “…get his ass kicked…” The words of various voices bombarded her brain. Three of her tribe sisters and Fallon blocked her view of the battle taking place behind them. She wasn’t sure if it was her eyesight or the darkness of the corridor, but all she saw were shadows. Grunts and roars were a steady backdrop to the higher-pitched tones of her sisters. Rosetta’s face loomed in front of her eyes. “Baby girl, we’re gonna move you somewhere else so your minotaur doesn’t trample you, okay?” Izzy moaned a denial. She had to be here for Grant. Yes, she was about as useless as a deflated balloon, but she was his spiritual cheerleader. Even if she wasn’t able to talk without sounding like she’d just come off a five-day drinking binge.

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Hands gripped her arms and legs, lifting her off the ground. Her head lolled back, her neck seeming incapable of holding it up. Someone, bless their evil little heart, hurried to prop up her head. They’d taken no more than three steps away from the fight when a bellow startled her carriers so much they dropped her. They were trying to finish her off. Izzy groaned, the pain in her head and chest multiplying by a thousand. Her ass landed on something pointy because apparently she hadn’t sustained enough injuries so far. Her mind spun away, wrapped in fog and pain and dreams of Grant fighting for her. **** Saga’s eyes narrowed down the corridor where Grant and the rest of the party had disappeared. She should be with them, should have had the strength to get over her phobia, but she hadn’t. Even now, as pissed off as she was at being stuck with Ricky the Randy Bear she could feel the weight of the soil above their heads. Her palms were sweaty, her heart pounded, and she wanted nothing more than to run from the tunnel like a scared little girl. But that would mean exposing her fear to Ricky. She glanced at him to find him staring at her. He hadn’t looked away the entire time the others had been gone and it was getting on her nerves. “Do you have a problem, bear?” He smiled. “Nope.” Saga snarled. “You sound just like my great-aunt Euphemie when she doesn’t get her honey.” The bear’s hair should’ve caught on fire from the heat of her glare, but he just smiled at her. He was cute, she supposed. Even if his smile made her want to punch the dopey grin off his face. In spite of her violent feelings towards him, Saga couldn’t lie to herself. The

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bear pushed her buttons—buttons she’d forgotten she had. Which was why it was so important to keep him at arm’s length. “Don’t talk to me, bear,” she growled, turning away from him to stare back down the tunnel. Her worry for Izzy was like that of a mother for her child and dammit, she’d tried not to get so close to the brat for this very reason. How many times did she need to lose people close to her before she learned not to grow attached? She could’ve smacked herself in the forehead for her stupidity, but that would mean showing the bear her self-loathing. “So your Amazon and my cousin…” he said as though he hadn’t even listened to her. “That’ll almost make us family.” Holding back her snort was almost painful. As if she’d claim any kind of relationship with this burly shifter. Ha! “Why, we’d be like…kissing cousins.” Why did that make her nipples tighten? Saga glared down the corridor. The others needed to hurry up and come back before she committed murder. At least she wasn’t freaking out over being in the tunnel anymore. The bear was good for something at least. “So, you wanna?” he asked in that deep, gravelly voice she felt all the way to the depths of her soul. She flicked him a quick glance over her shoulder only to see he’d crept up on her. He was close enough to touch. Damn him! “Do I want to what?” She’d meant to sound impatient, but instead sounded more than a little breathless. “Kiss.” Her head reared back which put her face even closer to his. Oh, no, she did not mean to do that! But the damned bear seemed to take it as an invitation. ****

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With a toss of his horns, Grant sent the grizzly’s limp body flying across the tunnel. His chest heaved as he struggled to contain his Minotaur’s Rage. He tried the deep breathing techniques he’d learned during his transition, but nothing helped ease the dangerous fury coursing through his body. He needed Isola, his mate. She was the only one who could bring him out of the rage. Turning to the last place he’d seen her, Grant saw the Amazons and Fallon lifting Isola. Her body was limp, her head had to be supported, and he could see the splatter of blood where her skull had met the stone wall. He bellowed his fury and fear for his mate, causing the group to drop her. She grunted as she hit the ground, her face twisting into a grimace. Then her face went slack. Grant’s heart stopped beating for a split second. His roar scattered the Amazons, though Rosetta hovered over Isola protectively, her sword clutched in her hand. “You need to calm that shit down, bull, or I will castrate you.” The threat would have been more effective if she hadn’t sounded like she was about to piss herself. Grant sent her a look that spoke volumes and encouraged the Amazon to step away from Isola. His mate was sprawled on her back, arms and legs splayed. She looked fragile in a way he’d never seen before. He approached her carefully, making sure not to go too near her with his hooves. Once he was close enough to smell her musky rose scent, to feel the warmth of her skin, and hear the faint thud of her heartbeat, the tension and anger flowed from him. He shifted to his human form, unmindful of the free show he was giving the Amazons. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch her face. The instant his fingers came into contact with her skin, a sizzle of electricity raced up his arm and through his body. He threw his head back at the rush of painful ecstasy. His nostrils burned at the smell of ozone in the air, his eyes shut as a field of bright blue surrounded him and Isola. The

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mating bond roared through him with all the subtlety of a typhoon. The mating dance was now over. They were bonded for eternity. She mumbled something, but her words were so slurred, he couldn’t understand her. Hope surged through him for the first time since he found out she was gone. It was done, they were bonded. Relief and love and panic filled him. Relief that she was alive and aware of her surroundings. Love because she was the mate of his heart and soul. And panic because there was no telling how she’d react when she realized that she would soon be pregnant with his child. “Just rest, Isola,” he told her in a soothing voice even as he ached to crush her against his chest. There would be plenty of time for that later, when she felt better. “You’re safe, the bear is dead. We’ll get out of here and back to the ranch just as soon as you’re feeling better.” “No ranch. Can’t go.” Grant stared at her. “Of course you can, you need to recover.” “I’ll be outcast.” The mutinous expression on her face told him she wouldn’t budge on this. He wondered if it mattered to her that they were now intertwined so deeply, he could feel the pain in her heart? “Don’t worry about that right now, Izzy,” Rosetta said in a hushed voice. She sounded concerned. “You need to get better, and his ranch is closer than the Snow Blind Tribe.” “Where’s Saga?” his mate demanded as she avoided his eyes. “We left her and Ricky at the start of the tunnel to watch our backs.” Her eyes drifted closed as though she didn’t have the strength to keep them open. “We need to move her,” he said to everyone and no one. His mate was going to choose her tribe over him even after their bond had snapped into place. He wanted to howl, wanted to tear that damn grizzly up all over again, but instead, he gently lifted his mate

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into his arms. The limpness of her limbs worried him as did the fresh blood sliding down his arm from the back of her head. “Should we go back the way we came?” Rosetta asked with a worried look at Isola. “We can’t leave Saga with that bear for long,” one of the other Amazons stated. She nodded to Grant. “We weren’t introduced, minotaur. I’m Ocean, Saga’s sister, and this is Ravanna.” She nodded her head towards the other Amazon. “Saga doesn’t like your cousin much and if she’s with him for long, she might, um, put a little hurtin’ on him.” Grant studied Ocean carefully. Now that he was looking at her, he saw she had the same clear blue eyes as Saga and similar facial features. She was a lot calmer and more open than her sister. A casual sniff in her direction told him she was mated to a werewolf. “Okay, but if there’s a fight, someone needs to take Isola out of here.” Fallon stepped up, his face creased with worry and tension. “I will take ma fouine out for you, taureau.” He didn’t like it, but he knew if her life was in danger, he’d want to fight to protect her and he couldn’t do that with Isola in his arms. The incubus had shown himself to be a stalwart friend to Grant’s mate. There were no sexual looks exchanged between them, no scent of lust in the air when they spoke. “Okay,” he told the incubus grudgingly. He started down the corridor towards the entrance. “What does ma fouine mean anyway?” Fallon chuckled. “It means my mink.” Grant stiffened, shooting the incubus a jealous glare. Fallon raised his hands innocently. “It is because of her hair. It is very pretty.” He didn’t like it, not one bit, but he couldn’t argue. Isola had beautiful hair and he knew for a fact how soft and silky it was. “Come up with another nickname,” he grunted.

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The others chuckled and even Grant had to crack a smile, but the humor faded as they neared the entrance of the tunnels. He had a bad feeling about what they would find and his body tensed. Turning the corner with the others right behind him, Grant felt his mouth drop open in shock. He’d expected many things when he turned that corner, but this was not one of those things. Ricky and Saga were locked together, their bodies straining towards each other as though they couldn’t get close enough. His cousin’s big hands cupped the Amazon’s ass, pressing her hips into his. Saga’s fingers raked through Ricky’s hair, tugging at the thick strands. “Damn, I wish we had some popcorn,” Rosetta whispered, her blue eyes glued on the passionate embrace. The bear and Amazon jumped apart as though they’d just been electrocuted. Ricky looked unabashed, although the flush in his cheeks and the slumberous cast to his face told Grant more than anything else, how his cousin was affected. Saga, as usual, looked impassive except for her puffy lips. She cleared her throat then licked her lips. Something flashed in her blue eyes, but was gone so quickly, Grant wasn’t sure how she truly felt. “Did you find her?” she asked, and if her voice was huskier than usual, no one commented. “Saga?” Isola’s voice was weak and hoarse, though Grant could easily hear the humor in her tone. He whirled around to see her supported on Fallon’s arm. Her face was pale, but she looked much stronger than she had minutes before. Grant hurried to her side, needing to be the one to help her. Now that the danger had passed, he could concentrate on his amazing mate. The look she gave him as he took over from Fallon was inscrutable and slightly suspicious, but she allowed the change. “Are you okay?” Saga stepped further away from Ricky as though distance would make everyone forget what they’d seen.

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A fine tremble raced through Isola’s body, but she straightened to her full height and lifted her hand until it barely rested against Grant’s arm. He wanted to protest this unnecessary show of strength, but knew she needed to save face in front of her sisters. Damn, what a woman! “I’ll be hearing little birdies for a few hours, but I’m fine.” She flicked a curious glance at Grant. “I can’t say the same for the bear and the nymph, though.” Grant interrupted Saga before she could press on with her questions. “We need to get out of here before whoever wins that fight up there finds us.” He slipped his arm around his mate’s waist. “The question is, do we go up, or do we push through the corridor?” “I think we should go topside.” Isola shifted away from him slightly. “Dov was in a hurry to get through the tunnels, so whatever’s on the other side could be trouble for us.” He didn’t like the idea, but it made sense. He nodded to Ricky. He wanted his cousin up there first to check things out. There was no way he’d put Isola at risk. His cousin showed his intelligence by nodding back and snagging Saga’s arm. “We’ll check it out, make sure it’s safe for everyone.” “I can assure you it isn’t the least bit safe,” a deep, cultured voice spoke from behind the group causing them to whirl around. Grant pushed Isola behind him because he recognized the man who spoke, and he was supposed to be dead.

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Chapter Twenty-Eight If she wasn’t so fucking tired and dizzy, she’d hand Grant’s ass to him for treating her like some fragile flower of womanhood. Bastard. She didn’t know what he was doing here anyway. She’d left him after he’d left her. She frowned and rubbed her temples. Or something like that. Everything was kind of fuzzy except for one thing—she remembered very well that Dov was dead, so she no longer had to watch her back. Her front was an entirely different matter. She recognized Ormond Steele’s voice and her heart seized. She was too fucking hurt to be of any help in taking the bastard down, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying. Hells, if she had to, she’d bite his motherfucking ankles! She took a step to the left—more like a stagger, but whatever— and Grant moved with her. She glared at his naked back and took a lurching step to the right. Again, he intercepted her movement to prevent her from confronting the fire elemental. She poked him in the ribs. “You’ve put me through a lot of trouble, Grant,” Ormond said conversationally. Izzy managed to peek around Grant’s shoulder and realized why no one was trying to attack Ormond. The bastard had at least two dozen guards with him. A quick glance told her most of them were a mix of demons and warmages, but there were a few her eyes lingered on because they were so…wrong. Ormond waved his hand, his silky white hair fluffing around his genial face. “These are my creations,” he announced proudly. “They

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were once Halflings with no special skills or hope until I transformed them.” He patted one on the shoulder and Izzy shuddered. There was no telling what the Halflings had once been. They’d been changed into something else, something completely unnatural. One had fangs too large for it to close its mouth, giving it a hideous, leering smile. Its large, black eyes were set in a misshapen face. It was easily seven feet tall with bulging muscles and razor-sharp claws. The other four were just as grossly disfigured and monstrous. She caught the eye of one of the beings, and there was something in its face that told her it knew it was a monster and hated it. Her heart clenched with compassion. His…creations weren’t the monsters, Ormond was. She fisted her hands and wished she could punch the smug bastard in his face, but he was too well protected. At the moment. Grant was naked as the day he was born, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. He crossed his arms over his chest and adopted his usual cocky attitude. “What’s all this about, Ormond? You can’t still imagine that taking me out will do you any good at the annual Ball.” Surprise lit Ormond’s silver-blue eyes, but it was quickly masked by anger. “Your usefulness ended the moment the Amazon interfered with my plans.” He glared at Izzy over Grant’s shoulder before a smile crossed his face. “Now it’s just for fun. Kill them.” Ormond’s guards leapt forward with roars. Izzy, still not quite up to snuff, was pushed behind her group as they surged to meet the attack. Those bitches! She glared at them before she eyed the backup sword hanging down Ravanna’s back. She snatched it out of the scabbard and entered the fray. Grant had changed into his minotaur form and was battling three demons at once while Fallon, Saga, and Rosetta had taken on one of the transformed Halflings. Spying a break between Ocean and Ravanna, she sprung through it with the sword raised.

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Her arm vibrated as steel clashed. One of the demons had met her charge. He was a big bastard, but he had terrible form. She managed to disarm him and take his head in under twenty seconds, but that was by no means the end of the fight. Another one soon took the first demon’s place, his battle axe swinging. She dodged his first strike and noticed a warmage just past the demon’s shoulder. The bastard was about to cast a spell. Izzy reached forward, grabbed the demon by his balls and pulled him in front of her just as the spell was cast. His mouth had opened in a surprised O shape when she’d gripped his junk, but now it was gaping open as he gasped for air. She jumped back as his big body hit the ground and threw her sword at the warmage who’d just sucked in air for another spell. The sword found its mark, spearing him through the throat. Blood gushed and he fell to the ground with a gurgle. Great. Now she didn’t have a weapon! Seeing her predicament, two demons advanced on her, axes swinging. She retreated away from the others, who were busy with their own fights. If she could draw these two asswipes away, then she could possibly take them out in hand-to-hand combat. Or tire them out, or something. Okay, so she really didn’t have a plan other than to keep her head attached, but she’d think of something! Just when she thought she’d have to flash the bastards to distract them, two arrows buzzed around her head, striking them in the throats and halting their advance. Izzy frowned down at the big bodies at her feet. She recognized the fletching on the arrows. Well, hell, there went the fun! “When Saga told me you were in trouble, I thought she had to be mistaken. But I see that she was correct as usual. Do you have any idea how irritating it is for me to hear her say ‘I told you so?’” a lazy, feminine voice drawled from the shadows behind Izzy. Summoning an innocent smile, she spun around to face her queen. “Queen Albreda! Fancy seeing you here.”

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Albreda rolled her blue eyes at Izzy’s fake enthusiasm. Her queen wasn’t alone and she hadn’t expected her to be, but the people who were with the Amazon were the crème de la crème of Veilerian society. Izzy gaped at the three High Councilors standing next to her queen: Oculum Lucian Ravenswaay, Manu Nila, and Linguar Fields. Her knees felt weak, she was so relieved to see Fields. He was a water elemental, possibly the only being powerful enough to even think about taking on a fire elemental. A shadowy figure appeared in the midst of the Councilors. Black wings snapped open as Noelani, Malachi’s mate, solidified. Knowing the Halfling wouldn’t be far behind, Izzy looked for him and sure enough, he stepped out of the hall behind the others. His deep brown eyes twinkled as he made his way through the group, Noelani falling in next to him. “You look like hell, Izzy,” he drawled as he neared. She grinned at him. “I’m so glad to see your sorry asses!” She slapped a hand over her mouth and looked at Albreda with round eyes. Her queen shook her head and notched another arrow on her bow. “We’ll deal with you later, Izzy. I think the others could use some help.” “Hey, what about giving me a sword?” Izzy shouted after the group as they entered the melee. “A knife? A fork? Something?” There was a moment of shocked silence as the Eturians realized they were fighting against even more Veilerians. Ormond’s eyes widened when he saw the Councilors, and he took a step back. Izzy growled. That bastard was not getting away again. Racing to the body of the warmage she’d felled with her sword, she yanked the weapon out of his neck and barreled straight for Ormond. Her actions galvanized the other fighters. The Eturians turned to greet the newcomers, drawing their numbers from Izzy’s group. Fields, like Izzy, ignored everyone and headed straight for Ormond.

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She was just a few yards away from the elemental when he released a fireball in her direction. She heard Grant bellow, but ignored her mate. Leaping to the side to avoid the fire, she pressed forward. She had to cut off his escape. With the hall open behind him, Ormond could slip away and they’d miss their chance to end his reign of terror. She was weaker than she’d like to be at this moment, yes, but determination flooded her system, lending her the strength she needed to finish this. Ormond let loose with another fireball, this one bigger than the last, and lobbed it in her direction. She couldn’t completely avoid it as it slammed into the wall next to her. Fire rained down on her as she ran as fast as she could through the shower. She hissed as sparks landed on her, burning holes into her clothes and sizzling into her skin, but it couldn’t be helped. A demon body slammed her when she was almost within touching distance of Ormond. Its momentum carried Izzy into the wall. She lost all the air in her chest, which was probably a good thing because she was tempted to scream from the pain. The shit had snapped at least four of her ribs, and the excruciating agony in her shoulder suggested it was dislocated. Luckily the sword was in the hand of the arm that wasn’t injured and she used it to hack at the bastard until his weight fell away from her. Sweat poured down her face and she leaned against the wall to catch her breath—which so wasn’t working because it hurt every time she tried to suck in air. Snarling, she stabbed the dead demon again for good measure. There was a roaring in her ears and she shook her head. Damn, the demon had really rung her bell! No, wait, that wasn’t in her head. She looked up to see Grant charging through the remaining Eturians, his focus on her. Time seemed to come to a standstill. She saw the others fighting the depleted Eturian forces, heard the ring of steel, the grunts of effort, screams of pain. Then she saw Ormond turn his attention to

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Grant, who didn’t even notice the elemental. Fields sent wave after wave of water at Ormond, who just shook it off. The fire elemental cupped his hands together. An ember ignited in his palms, and in mere moments, it was a solid ball of electric blue heat. Her heart stopped as she realized it wasn’t quite a fireball, but something else, something stronger. He lifted the ball in one hand, his head coming up as he took aim at Grant, who was just passing in front of him. As usual, Izzy didn’t even stop to think. She only knew that Grant wasn’t prepared for Ormond’s attack and she wasn’t going to let some power-hungry bastard kill her mate. Using the wall as a springboard, she pushed herself off of it, catapulting herself between Grant and Ormond. The sphere the elemental had produced went airborne, striking Izzy in the shoulder instead of Grant. Searing pain, unlike anything she’d ever felt before, ripped through her body. She was out before she hit the ground. **** Grant’s heart stopped when he heard Isola’s agonized scream. She landed on the floor hard, her body bouncing until it skidded to a stop against the opposite wall. Her tunic had burned away, leaving her bare to the waist. A strange blue light stained the skin of her injured shoulder. Even as he watched, the light spread into her torso and down her arm. She moaned, curling her body into a tight ball. “Oops. I missed,” Ormond mocked as he called another ball of light. His eyes gleamed with malice. “Let me fix that.” Grant turned his head towards the elemental, the Minotaur’s Rage in full effect. As though seeing it from a distance, he saw Ormond throw the sphere. Fields flung his hand into the air, encasing the ball of fire in ice.

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That’s when Grant made his move. He charged the fire elemental, head lowered so his horns were on level with the other man’s chest. Mere feet away from his target, Grant twisted his head to the side, impaling Ormond with the tip of his horn and driving the elemental backwards until he met the wall. He didn’t stop there though. He kept pressing until he felt Ormond’s body reluctantly yield to the pressure and he felt stone scrape against the tip of his horn. Ormond’s hands flickered with blue fire as he grabbed onto Grant, searing his skin. The flames died even as blood poured from Ormond’s mouth, but Grant wasn’t going to let the bastard go until he knew for sure he was dead. Hands pulled at Grant, trying to tug him away. He ignored them. The need to kill the man who’d injured his female burned within him. “Grant, taureau, you must see to Izzy,” a Cajun-accented voice whispered in a raspy tone that finally broke through Grant’s singleminded focus on Ormond. He stepped back, shaking the dead man off his horn and flinging blood into the air. Spinning on his hoof, he stormed over to the knot of people standing over his female. He snorted threateningly until they opened up to let him through. By the time he reached her side, he was in his human form again. Saga and Rosetta were kneeling by her side, their eyes teary. He ignored them, his attention on his mate. She lay on her side, her bruised and battered body curled into a tight ball. The blue on her shoulder still glowed brightly, although it had stopped spreading. He brushed the tips of his fingers over her cheek, feeling the heat in her body. The magical fire might not be spreading, but it had already done its damage. He vaguely heard the others talking, but his sole focus was on Isola, on the tiny frown lines between her eyebrows. Even though she was out cold, she was in pain. He heart bled for her. Why had she thrown herself in front of him? Did she really think he was so weak

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that he couldn’t take a direct hit? Did she believe he’d rather she was injured? Ineffectual anger filled him. She was his mate, the mother of his future children. She should never have put herself in danger that way. The minotaur chomped with the need to roar out his anger, but Grant held it back. Right now wasn’t the time to raise hells about her actions. It wouldn’t do any good anyway since she was unconscious. No, he’d wait until she was awake and stronger. Then he’d rip into her for her stupid act. “Grant, we have witches on the way to tend to her,” Ricky said from somewhere in the back of the group. “What about the fight topside?” Saga asked in a hoarse voice. Grant looked to see that her eyes were swollen and the tip of her nose was red. She was struggling to keep her tears at bay. He frowned back down at Isola. He wasn’t the only one who was hurt and angry at her actions, her friends looked properly horrified at the state she was in. Ticking off another matter to yell at her about, Grant scooped her into his arms. “Looks like Ormond’s group cleaned them out,” Ricky ground out. “There are bodies all over the place.” “Any of your deputies?” “No, my guys are good.” “I’m taking Isola up,” Grant stated as he pushed through the group. It was the first time he really noticed the newest additions. He didn’t recognize any of them, but that didn’t mean anything since he didn’t leave his corner of the world much. These were all Isola’s people, he realized. These were her friends, the ones who cared about her. One woman in particular drew his attention, and he frowned at her. She looked like Saga and her sister, Ocean, except there was a stronger sense of power in her gaze. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. He pulled Isola closer to him and planted his feet wide apart.

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“Who the hell are you?” he demanded when the woman cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m her queen,” she answered coolly, not at all impressed with his aggression. “Who the fuck are you?” “I’m her mate.” She snorted. “We’ll see, minotaur. I don’t allow just anyone into my camp.” The challenge to his hold on Isola’s future threatened to send him into the Minotaur’s Rage. “I don’t plan to live in your camp. My mate and I will stay here.” “I don’t think so. She belongs with her family.” “She belongs with her mate,” he growled back at her, his hands crushing Isola to his chest. “I don’t think this is the time to worry about that,” some asshole with dimples and dark hair suggested as he stepped forward. “I’m Malachi Cromwell, this is my mate, Noelani Fayard.” He introduced himself with his hand on a small fairy’s shoulder. “Izzy needs to be cared for before any plans can be made. We also need to get some GEs in here to handle cleanup and I’d like to take—” “Ormond’s body is gone!” Rosetta shouted, drawing everyone’s attention back to the end of the hall. Grant swiveled around to see the bloody stain where he’d dropped the body and nothing else. “How?” Three official-looking people crowded around the site, their heads together. The tallest, a male vampire with long black and red hair, answered Grant’s question. “Looks like one of the demons teleported them out.” “Fuck!” “He was dead, though, wasn’t he?” Rosetta asked in a demanding tone. Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. Grant was almost positive Ormond had been dead. There was no way he could’ve survived

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being gored like that. At least he was pretty sure it was impossible. He frowned. “What about the others?” Ocean asked as she nudged an unconscious Halfling. “These Halflings are as much victims of Ormond’s deeds as the rest of the Veilerians.” It was Malachi who spoke up, casting the long-haired male a hard glance. “I’ll take responsibility for them. Lani and I will make sure they don’t cause any trouble. Maybe they can be helpful in finding where Ormond’s body was taken.” He paused, his face tight. “Even if Ormond is dead, that doesn’t mean this is over, you know that, right? He might’ve been the Overlord, but he wasn’t the only Eturian who wanted to see the Veil fall.” “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it right now,” Ricky interrupted when several people started talking. “We need to get out of here, get patched up, and let cleanup crews come through before the humans are drawn here.” Grant agreed since he could feel Isola stirring against him. If she awoke now, before the witches had a chance to heal her, she’d be in excruciating pain, and even as pissed off as he was, he wouldn’t wish that on her for anything. The transfer from the tunnels to topside was accomplished in a short time. Grant reluctantly handed Isola up to Fallon so he could climb the ladder, but he grabbed her as soon as he was upstairs. The incubus sent him a knowing glance, but he ignored the bastard. Ricky’s deputies had secured the perimeter of the building and as the rest of the group filtered out of the tunnel, Guardian Elites showed up to strengthen the deputies’ numbers. Grant didn’t care about the site; he just wanted Isola in his bed, resting. “Dammit, I forgot it was late afternoon,” the long-haired male muttered. He squinted pale green eyes at the weak sunlight. “Fields, get Tawny to bring the van closer. If I go home with burns, Ruby’ll have my ass.”

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“Yeah, since you told her she had to stay behind,” Albreda shot back with a smirk. “My niece does not like being told what to do, Lucian. I thought someone as smart as you would’ve figured that out by now.” Lucian frowned, ignoring Malachi’s smirk. “Ruby’s pregnant.” “Again?” the Amazons all asked in unison. “Holy crap, y’all are gonna need a bigger house if you keep up the way you’re going!” Rosetta exclaimed with a laugh. Isola stirred in Grant’s arms. He looked down to see her eyes blinking open. Her lips were pressed together tightly and lines of strain marked her face. “We have to get to my place.” Fallon looked at him, then at Isola. “I can take her to your house and get her settled.” Grant didn’t want the incubus taking his mate anywhere, but reluctantly admitted to himself that it would be safer and easier for Isola if she were teleported instead of driven back to his place. Gritting his teeth because it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, he handed his tender burden to Fallon. “You’d better fucking take care of her.” He growled in a low tone. The incubus only nodded with a half-smile and disappeared in a puff of smoke. A large hand clapped Grant on the back. He looked to see Lucian looming over him. The bastard was tall, very tall. “Why don’t you ride with us in the van? We have some questions for you.” He was already being herded to the vehicle when he noticed the Amazons weren’t joining them. It was just him, Lucian, Malachi, the water elemental, and the tiny demoness. He heaved an inward sigh. It looked as though he was about to face an interrogation. Fucking joy.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine She squeezed her eyes shut. If she opened them, she knew she was in trouble. She could feel it hovering in the air above her. Izzy wasn’t sure she could deal with whatever shitstorm was gathering over her and manage her pain at the same time. She hurt from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. Had one of her sisters thrown her in front of a train like they’d always threatened? No, she was almost positive that hadn’t happened. For one thing, she remembered leaving Grant’s house under her own steam, being kidnapped by Dov, Grant killing Dov…then, Ormond Steele. Her eyes snapped open. It took a few minutes for her pupils to adjust to the weak sunlight pouring through the window next to the bed. The ceiling looked familiar. That’s when she realized it was her room at Grant’s house. Once she established where she was, Izzy let her gaze travel the room. She seemed to be alone. She frowned. But if she was alone, why did she feel that weird vibe… Grant sat in the darkest corner of the room. The shadows covered the top half of his body, leaving his lower stomach, hips, and legs in the light. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and the only reason she knew it was him was she’d spent so many days memorizing his bellybutton. He didn’t speak, didn’t even twitch, and for one hopeful moment, she thought he was asleep. But no, even as she prayed that she would be spared just a little longer, the muscles in his stomach flexed as he shifted slightly. “You’re quite the hero, Isola,” he stated in a flat voice.

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Okay, that wasn’t quite what she’d expected to hear. A part of her, the stupid, girly part had wanted him to take her in his arms and confess his feelings for her. She gave a mental snort. It was obvious the stupid bull only wanted her for a mate because his fucking ring had told him she was his. It had nothing to do with feelings and she was an idiot for thinking she mattered beyond that mystical connection. “No comment? You saved the day. I figured you’d be crowing about your triumph,” Grant continued in a silky voice. “What triumph?” Izzy finally asked although it sounded more like a croak from suppressing her urge to cry. When she felt better, she was going to kick his ass for hurting her feelings. “You saved my life,” he gritted out, leaning forward in his chair so he could pin her in place with his glare. “You threw yourself between me and Ormond and saved the fucking day.” His cold voice rubbed her nerves the wrong way. “You must be so proud of yourself. Your queen is talking about cutting your exile short, and I overheard a couple of the Councilors talking about making you an apprentice.” Izzy’s jaw dropped. “What?” “You heard me. Your ‘heroic deeds,’” he snarled as he made air quotes, “earned you the respect of your tribe and the High Council. You’re the girl of the hour and everyone wants a piece of you. Congratulations.” He flung the last word at her as he surged to his feet. Izzy blinked up at him, not sure what he was getting at. She wasn’t stupid, regardless of what others thought. She knew he was upset, but she didn’t know why. “What the fuck is your problem?” she finally blurted because his anger only fueled her own. She couldn’t believe him! He was acting as though he was jealous, or something! Grant’s blue eyes narrowed on her and his nostrils flared. He looked so different without his septum piercing and she felt a brief flash of sorrow that he’d lost it. Then she remembered why it had

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fallen out and her sorrow turned to anguish. They were mates, but he’d left her, just as she’d known he would. He stalked towards her, that weird vibe she’d felt upon waking growing stronger the closer he came. Her skin felt ultra sensitive, pebbling beneath the wave of whatever power he exuded. It was strange, but strangely erotic. Her nipples tightened into painful knots, and her womb flexed. Grant didn’t stop until he was next to the bed and leaned down to cage her between his arms. He lowered himself until his face was all she could see. His breath wafted across her face smelling of coffee and mint. From this close up, she saw the grain of his skin, the silver shards in his blue eyes, and the raw anger in his gaze. “My problem, Isola, is that I never asked you to put your life in danger for me. My problem is with your careless disregard for your life and the unnecessary risks you took.” She gaped at him as her brain tried to process his words. Was this some kind of macho bullshit? Did he feel less masculine because she’d saved his life? That’s when her anger flared to life, burning hot enough to set the bed on fire. Without thinking, she jabbed her finger into his chest, ignoring the pain that shot up her shoulder at the movement. “I don’t need your fucking permission to be myself.” She growled, punctuating her words with a meaningful poke. “And I saved your life because I didn’t want you to die, you asshole!” **** Grant stared down at the very pissed-off, battered, and hurt face of his mate. Isola’s eyes spit fire and passion, but she couldn’t hide the pain in the chocolate brown depths. He didn’t know if it was from her injuries or his words, but something inside him shifted at her declaration.

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Warmth filled his chest, replacing the anger he’d felt at her total disregard for her own life. She cared for him, which he was eternally grateful for, but she hadn’t said the magic words. It was a step in the right direction, but it wasn’t enough for the kind of commitment he wanted from her. They still had some issues to work out. Mainly her inability to stay out of trouble. “You think my life is more valuable than yours?” he demanded as he stared into her bruised face. “Dammit, Isola! What do you think would’ve happened to me if you had died?” He watched as disbelief appeared in her eyes. “I wasn’t planning on dying, jackass.” She relaxed back against her pillow, closing her eyes as though tired. “As surprising as this might sound to you and my tribe, I’m not an idiot. It was a controlled risk.” “I was looking right at you. You didn’t even stop to think! You just barreled across the room!” Her eyes snapped open again, glaring up at him. “Gods, Grant! You were the one who wasn’t thinking! You were running towards me, and Ormond was gunning for you.” To his complete surprise tears flooded her eyes. “I couldn’t just let you throw your life away for me. You have a family who loves you, who would’ve grieved for you. As much as I don’t like your mom, I wouldn’t wish that pain on her. How could I look her in the eye afterwards if you’d died? How would I have been able to look at myself in the mirror when I was the only one closest to prevent it?” A silvery tear spilled down her cheek, quickly followed by another and another. Isola turned her face away from him, leaving him to stare at her profile. She sniffed and scrubbed her hand across her face, erasing her tears. “I’ll never be the kind of woman who sits on the sidelines watching the game. I was born and raised a warrior. It’s part of who I am.” She turned to stare at him, the light in her eyes letting him know that this moment would make or break them. “I like who I am, Grant. I like the fact that I’m loud and obnoxious and have bad timing. I like

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that my sisters know they can count on me to have their backs. I won’t change that part of my personality for anything, so if you don’t like it, just go the fuck away and never come back.” He’d thought he was pissed before, but that had nothing on how he felt now. “You’re my mate. If I go, you come with me.” Her eyes were cold. “That’s what this is all about?” She scoffed. “You’re still trying to make me into your idea of a perfect mate? I hate to break it to you, Raging Bull, but if I leave you, you won’t be following me.” The minotaur rose to the forefront of his mind, clawing with the need to make her understand that their mating was forever, but Grant held him back. It wouldn’t do his cause any good to ruin his chances with her. As he stared at her, he realized she was right and he was an asshole. He loved her because of her strength and loyalty, how could he condemn her for those same qualities when they were focused in his direction? “You didn’t jump in the way because you doubted I could handle myself?” He hated asking the question, hated revealing his insecurities to her. When her gaze softened, he let out the breath he’d been holding. Chocolate brown eyes searched his face as though trying to understand the question. “I know you’re a total badass, you idiot. You took on a whole room of shifters by yourself, not to mention a mass of imps.” He couldn’t help but smile. “Not killer nymphs?” Isola’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You can’t send a bull to do an Amazon’s job, honey. As much as I love you, you seem to think women aren’t dangerous.” His heart stopped beating, he was sure it had. He could only watch as her eyes widened as realization of what she’d said poured through her. A blush started at the edge of the sheet, washing up her neck

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before settling in her face. Her lashes lowered as though she could hide her feelings and Grant couldn’t allow that. “You can’t take it back,” he murmured as he brushed his lips over hers. He rubbed his nose against hers teasingly. “You love me, you really love me.” “You ass.” Grant clucked, feeling as though his body would explode from the happiness inside him. “You love my ass.” He kissed the tip of her nose. The disgruntled look on her face forced him to pull back a little. “What’s wrong?” How could anything be wrong? She loved him, he loved her…they were going to be fucking awesome together. She poked him in the chest. “You’re supposed to respond in kind. Ass.” That’s when he saw the vulnerability in her eyes. “Gods, Isola, how could you even doubt that I love you?” He stroked his hand over her thick hair, her soft cheek. “You’ve been driving me crazy from the moment you threatened to castrate me. When you were hurt protecting me, I thought I’d go out of my mind!” Her lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. “You did?” Grant glared at her. “Don’t ever do that again, dammit.” He pressed his forehead against hers. “I don’t think I could live without you, baby. I don’t even want to think about it, so have some mercy.” She studied him carefully. “Okay, I’ll try not to get myself killed again, but no promises.” It wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear, but it was better than a flat refusal, so Grant took it. As gently as he could to compensate for her wounds, he kissed her with all of the passion and love he felt for her. His mate, as usual, nearly blew his socks off, her tongue rasping against his with an urgency that made his blood thicken with need. He had to remind himself that she wasn’t in any condition to make love, but damn if she didn’t make him wish she was. She suckled on his tongue and his cock throbbed with want. “Grant Torrance Strickland, you let go of that girl right now!”

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**** Izzy winced more from the pain in her shoulder than embarrassment. For a moment when Grant was kissing her, she’d forgotten all about her hurts. He loved her, had claimed she drove him crazy. Was there any greater compliment? Of course, then his mother had ruined the moment. Grant leapt away from her so quickly he jostled her, causing her to gasp with agony. She groaned, closing her eyes. She wanted to die, the pain was so bad. “Ma—” “Don’t ‘Ma’ me, Grant Strickland! That girl needs to rest. She doesn’t need you pawing at her like a bull in rut.” Izzy heard Bella’s voice near and knew the cow-swan was advancing on the bed. “You go and talk to that nice vampire about your business. He had some more questions about it.” Izzy opened her eyes to see Grant hesitating, looking between her and his mother. She could tell he was uneasy about leaving her with Bella, especially in her weakened condition, but when he caught her eye, she gave him a nod. Now was as good a time as any to try to iron things out with his mother. She gave an inner wince when the cow-swan looked at her. Yeah, she would’ve preferred to be on her feet for this, but she was willing to tough it out to be with Grant. The door closed behind her mate and silence filled the room, thick and heavy. Bella fidgeted with the collar of her dress. Her hands danced down to the buttons as she meandered to the window next to the bed. Izzy didn’t know what the fuck to do with herself either except fidgeting was not an option. Her fingers twitched with the need to do something and blinding pain shot up her shoulder.

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She must’ve made some kind of noise because Bella whirled to look at her. “Oh, you need to just stop all that moving right now,” the cow advised as she neared the bed. “The witches aren’t sure how long it would take you to recover from whatever that monster did to you.” It took a lot of effort to keep from snarling at Bella as she fluffed the pillows behind her head. She didn’t know why Grant’s mother was pretending to be nice, but she didn’t like it. She much preferred someone to say and do what they really want instead of hiding behind bullshit. No sooner did the thought cross her mind than Bella’s face crumpled as tears filled her eyes. “I’m so glad you were there,” she sobbed, yanking a handkerchief out of her pocket. “You sacrificed yourself for my baby and I can never, ever repay you.” A blush scorched her cheeks as she lowered her gaze to study her toes beneath the sheet. Okay, so she hadn’t expected that. It was embarrassing to see so much gratitude in the other woman’s eyes she didn’t know what to do with herself. She supposed she’d have to just be glad Bella seemed willing to like her, even if it had taken putting herself in harm’s way to win her over. It took a few minutes for Bella to calm herself, but Izzy let her. She didn’t know how to comfort someone who was bawling like a newborn calf. She was actually scared if she attempted to, the other woman would throw herself in her arms and then where would she be? In pain and unable to deal with a stubborn mate, that’s where. “Well um.” Izzy coughed into her fist. She was so uncomfortable! “I’m glad I was there, too.” Bella reached out and patted Izzy’s hands. “Don’t you worry none, I’ll help you find a nice young man to take care of you.” She sniffed with a watery smile. “Rebecca Connelly is so taken with Grant, she would’ve mourned for him if anything had happened to him. I keep expecting to see the bond form between them.” Izzy’s jaw dropped as she stared at the cow-swan who was smiling blankly into space. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

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The cow jerked as though someone had poked her in the ass. “I’m sorry, dear?” “Grant is my mate,” Izzy growled, narrowing her eyes on Bella dangerously. “You can tell Rebecca moo-cow that she’ll have to find another bull because I don’t share.” Bella blinked at Izzy as though thoroughly confused. “But that’s impossible, dear, I’ve already spoken to Rebecca’s parents and we’ve started planning the mating ceremony! Why, some of the invitations have already been sent out and—” “Bella!” a sharp voice interrupted from the doorway. Both women had been too busy to pay attention to anything but each other and they jumped when the deep, masculine voice intruded. Izzy jerked her head around to see Paul standing in the room. He narrowed blazing blue eyes on his mate. “That is enough, Bella. This little girl is Grant’s mate. Anyone can see that since his ring fell out. There ain’t gonna be a ceremony with the Connellys, so get that right out of your head.” “But Paul, no one witnessed the ring falling out!” Bella protested. “You know that’s a requirement—” He made a chopping motion with his hand. “The damned ring’s out, ain’t it? Let it go. She’ll be the mother of your grandchildren, so if you wanna see them, I’d suggest you cozy up with her instead of pissing her off.” The eyes so similar to Grant’s shifted to look at Izzy. She thought she saw approval in them, but it was hard to tell. “I just hafta ask: where’s your ring?” Izzy gaped at him, not sure what he meant. “Ring?” He gave her the same smile she saw on Grant’s face so often and she lost a little bit of her heart to her mate’s father in that moment. “The other half of Grant’s ring?” She shook her head. “I don’t know. The only thing I wear is a toe ring and it’s fake.” Without bothering to ask if they could look at it, Paul and Bella whipped the sheet up to her knees. It hurt to lift her head but she

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wasn’t about to let them stare at her feet without looking to see what they saw. Straining, she peered down at her toes and saw the same thing she had for the last ten years. Her bare feet and the cheap little ring she’d bought somewhere in Key West circling her second toe. Paul reached out and tweaked her toe. “That’s it all right,” he grumbled with satisfaction. Izzy wiggled her toes. “How can you tell?” He shot his mate a chiding glance she ignored by studying her nails. “When we had the rings made for Grant, Bella shaved the least she could get away with from the piece.” She sniffed. “I wanted to be sure the female who found it was worthy of him!” Izzy stared down at the thin ring and knew Bella had done her best to make it impossible for Grant to find his mate. Not out of spite, but out of love. Fucked-up love, but love nonetheless. She sniggered. “You realize I bought this at a flea market for a dollar?” Bella looked insulted, but Paul’s mouth was quirked into that smile. “Then it was meant to be.” Damn, she was blushing again! “Um, great. So no more problems between us?” she asked Bella. The cow-swan stared at Izzy down the length of her nose before she sniffed. “I don’t suppose I have a choice.” She patted her hair. “I’ll let the Connellys know there’s been a change in the arrangements. Once you’re feeling better, you’ll need to come to the house so we can fit you for your mating ceremony gown.” “My mating ceremony will take place with my tribe,” Izzy announced before Bella could scamper from the room. She paused with her hand on the doorknob. For a cow, she could sure move fast! “I’ll think about it,” Bella replied before she slipped out the door. Izzy stared at the closed panel in stunned surprise. That heifer was going to take over her mating ceremony? Her eyes met Paul’s and he just shrugged.

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“She is who she is,” was all he said before leaning over to press a kiss to her forehead. “Welcome to the family, Isola.” She’d never been so glad to see the back of someone before in her life! The minute the door closed behind Paul, tears spilled down her cheeks. Okay, so Bella wasn’t quite as thrilled to have her in the family, but Paul’s welcome more than made up for it. And Grant. She sighed, wiping her face. She loved that damned bull. They had a lot of things to work out, like where they would live and things like that, but she was positive they could come up with a compromise. She hoped. Izzy plucked at the sheet covering her. What if they couldn’t though? What if Grant still had this insane idea that she’d make the perfect housewife? Panic fluttered at the back of her throat. No. She forced a deep breath. Grant knew what kind of person she was. He wouldn’t do that. Would he? Maybe she should think this over some more, she wondered a little frantically.

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Chapter Thirty Grant finally managed to get away from Lucian and Malachi, who were determined to engage his services for a birthday party. He shook his head as he started for Isola’s bedroom. Did they think he took hand-outs? His company might not be huge, but it would do just fine without taking pity jobs. Once things calmed down, he could concentrate on the security for the Ball and then his company would shoot off like a rocket. But those were thoughts for another time, he told himself as he sidestepped a tipsy Rosetta. He’d seen his mother stomp out of Isola’s room, her nose in the air and her hand digging in her purse for her phone. His dad had come out a few minutes later with a secret smile. Grant had felt decidedly uneasy, especially when the bond between him and Isola hummed with tension. His mate needed him. He could feel the panic rising in her. He had to get to her before she took it into her head to take off again. His hand was on the doorknob when someone cleared their throat. Snapping his head to the right, he saw Queen Albreda lounging against the wall next to him. The smirk on her face left him feeling violent. They hadn’t talked since that short, unsatisfactory argument in the tunnel, but Grant hadn’t forgotten a single word they’d exchanged. Now she was here, at his mate’s door and looking far too pleased with herself. “What.” Steady blue eyes surveyed him without expression. “We’re staying at the Black Dog Camp,” she said without preamble, crossing her arms over her chest. “My Blood Maidens are coming here for the

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mating ceremony because of Izzy’s injuries. Once the ceremony is finished and she’s back to full health, I’ll expect y’all to be right behind us.” Grant’s hands fisted as his temper skyrocketed. “My mate and I will be staying here.” Albreda shook her head. “That isn’t how it works, minotaur. Amazons live in tribes. When they mate, their mates join the tribe.” “My mate’s tribe exiled her,” he said coldly. “I don’t give a fuck what you or they want. You’ve hurt her enough and I won’t have her going back there to be treated like a leper by her beloved tribe.” She was quiet for a moment. “So you aren’t against her living with her tribe, just against her living with us.” “Damned straight.” Albreda pursed her lips as she studied him. “We’re her family.” She raised her hand as he opened his mouth to interrupt. “Family will do anything to strengthen those in it, minotaur. You may not approve of us sending Izzy here, but it was for the best—for her. She needed to learn to control her impulses, which she has.” Grant snorted. “She nearly got herself killed.” “Protecting you,” Albreda reminded him quickly. “She made a snap decision to save your life because you matter to her. Yes, she would’ve done something similar before she came here, but she wouldn’t have even attempted it while injured. She loves your ass and I’m not leaving her with some male who’ll try to turn her into Miss Little Suzy Homemaker. That shit is not happening to one of my warriors. Got it, bull?” Grant snapped his teeth at the hand in his face causing the Amazon to yank her arm back to avoid being bitten. “I got it. Now it’s my turn,” he told her with deadly intensity. “I love that woman more than anything in this world or the hereafter. I didn’t mate her because I thought she was some kind of Donna Reed wannabe. I mated her because we belong together. I don’t give a shit if she’s never cooked a meal in her life, she’s mine. If she wants to go back to Louisiana, it’ll

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be our decision, not yours. We haven’t talked about it yet, but whatever we decide will be what’s best for us. I would never do anything to get between Isola and her tribe because you are her family, but don’t you dare do anything to get between me and my mate. Got it?” “Hot damn,” someone breathed on the other side of the room. Grant blinked, his rage taking a backseat as he looked across his living room at the crowd of Amazons, Veilerian councilors, GEs, and his family. His gaze met a pair of nearly identical blue eyes. The fierce pride in his father’s face was a balm to the embarrassment that tried to surface as he realized he’d been yelling at the Amazon queen. He wasn’t embarrassed about declaring his feelings for his mate, not in the least. But he rarely ever lost his temper and to do it at such a crucial time… “Good for you, minotaur,” Albreda said with approval. He looked back at her to see a twinkle in her eyes. He shook his head and entered Isola’s room. He wasn’t sure he’d ever understand his mate’s sisters. Albreda seemed happy that he had shouted at her, which made no damned sense whatsoever. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he entered the softly lit room and approached his mate’s bed. She lay on her back looking so small and fragile, he felt his heart clench. Gods, what he wouldn’t do to protect her from the world. But that wasn’t the kind of mate he had. She didn’t want to be protected. She wanted to be an equal partner, would fight tooth and nail to be sure he treated her that way. And he loved her for it. “Are you sure you want to be mated to me?” Her voice was so soft, so uncertain, Grant almost missed her words. “I thought you were sleeping,” he murmured as he sat on the edge of the mattress. The wariness in her eyes surprised him. “There was no sleeping with all of that going on.” She cleared her throat. “Look, if you change your mind because of my tribe, I completely under—”

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Grant stopped her words with his mouth. For a split second, she didn’t respond, but when she did, she just about blew the top of his head off. Her lips clung to his, her tongue making desperate forays into his mouth which he eagerly answered. Passion flared between them, burning hotter than the sun. But this wasn’t the time. Grant pulled away, trembling and breathing hard like a thoroughbred. Isola’s lips were swollen from their kiss, her eyes half-closed and a rosy flush on her cheeks. She was so damned beautiful to him, perfection really. And she was his. Cupping her cheek in his hand, he brushed his finger across her lips. “I love you, woman. If you can put up with my family, I can put up with your tribe.” He thought about what he’d told Albreda. “About where we’ll live—” This time it was Isola’s turn to stop his words with a soft kiss. “No. We’ll stay here.” Gods, he loved this woman! “Are you sure? I can work anywhere.” Her generous lips curled into a smile he knew he’d never get tired of seeing. “Yeah, I’m sure. I kind of like it here. And if you piss me off, I can always go back to Forked Island for a visit.” Grant growled softly. “I’d be right behind you.” She looped one arm around his neck. “That’s what I’m counting on. Did you really mean what you said? About not caring if I never cooked a day in my life?” He wanted to joke, but he could see how concerned she was. The shit that had happened with her mother had really done a number on her. Grant made a silent promise to himself that he’d never let her touch a single pot if she didn’t want to. “I don’t care, baby. I love you because you’re you, not someone society expects you to be.” Her brilliant smile nearly blinded him. “That’s good because I couldn’t cook to save my life.”

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Grant laughed, swinging his body around so he could cuddle her. She eagerly molded her curves to his hollows, fitting them together like a puzzle piece. For the first time since that morning, Grant could breathe easily. She was in his arms, where she belonged. They would work out some kind of visiting arrangements with her tribe. He couldn’t bear to see her unhappiness at a long separation from her sisters. His mind filled with possibilities for the future because he knew he was holding the most prized component to his happiness in his arms. “This sucks.” Startled out of his euphoric daze, Grant looked down into his mate’s disgruntled face. “What does?” She sniffed. “Not being able to ride my bull.” Okay, his heart could start beating again. “There’s plenty of time for that,” he whispered as he reached in the nightstand next to the bed. “But I have just the medicine to make you feel better.” “What’s that?” she asked in a suspicious tone. “It’d better not be some nasty-tasting potion. The last time I was hurt, Saga made me drink this shit that tasted like…well, shit. And I nearly puked— What’s that?” she demanded when Grant hit the switch. Holding BOB in his hand, he turned back to her just in time to see her eyes widen. “No, no, no, no, Grant!” She tried to slide out of the bed, but he’d snagged her good with his leg. “Just relax and let the doctor take care of you,” he advised as he leaned over to lap at her nipple. **** Izzy shuddered at the feel of Grant’s tongue on her nipple. Hells, she hadn’t even realized she’d lost the fucking sheet! Fire shot from her breast to her womb and back again. She couldn’t fight back the moan of arousal building in her throat and didn’t even try.

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Her mate—hello, hottest minotaur ever!—was going to make her feel good. Her chest rose and fell as she struggled to breathe. Her ribs hurt, but fuck it, she’d survive. At least that’s what she thought until she felt the hot suction of his mouth on her flesh. “Grant,” she breathed, wishing she was at a hundred percent so she could get in the game. He looked up at her even as his mouth worked her nipple, his blue eyes bleeding to black. Because she knew he was just as excited as she was. “Don’t worry, sugar, I’m going to make you feel all better.” Izzy melted into the mattress as her minotaur transferred his mouth to her other breast, suckling and nibbling on the sensitive nub. Her stomach contracted painfully with need. Her bull didn’t disappoint her either, sliding his hand down her taut belly to delve his fingers between her slick folds. She gasped, arching her back, wanting a deeper penetration. This man’s fingers, his whole damned body, seemed made just for her, and she responded to him without reservations. Her movement encouraged him to slip one long finger deep inside her drenched pussy. “Gods, Grant!” “Mm,” he hummed against nipple, giving it one last tug with his lips. “You’re awful wet here, sweetheart. Maybe I should examine you.” Izzy chuckled a little breathlessly. That’s when she saw BOB still in his hand as Grant slipped down her body where he gently eased her legs apart. The muscles in his face went tight with need, his lips pressing together as sexual tension racked his body. “Gods, woman, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered hoarsely as he lowered himself between her widespread thighs. Long fingers stroked and parted her folds as he did exactly as he said he would—examine her. It was like no other examination she’d ever had and thank gods for that. He learned her with his fingers, his

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lips, his tongue. Izzy could only lay there and quiver as he lapped at her. She could only gasp and moan as his lips and tongue tortured her clit to painful hardness. “Please, Grant, oh, please,” she cried as she felt her orgasm coil like a tiger ready to spring. “Please.” Something blunt pressed at the mouth of her pussy and her eyes popped open to see Grant easing BOB into her, a look of intense concentration on his face. Her body stretched to accommodate the toy and she moaned. It felt good, but not great. “Grant, I want you inside me.” His eyes flickered up to her face and his nostrils gave that telltale flare before he shook his head. “You’re too hurt.” She shivered at the rough sound of his voice. “You’ll be gentle with me. Please?” He studied her for several seconds as the vibrator buzzed at the entrance of her pussy. It sent pulses of arousal through her and her body responded with eager moisture. But it wasn’t enough. Brilliant white teeth sank into his bottom lip as though he was undecided. “Please?” BOB went sailing across the room and Izzy wanted to cheer. Instead, she watched with hungry eyes as Grant slipped off the bed and started undressing. Would she ever get enough of seeing his gorgeous body? Probably not. It still made her breath hitch in her chest, her heart pound, and her body ready itself for his touch. His skin gleamed like antique gold in the weak light from the window, the bulges of his muscular form casting intriguing shadows she wanted to investigate. When his pants fell to the ground she thought her heart might explode. He was fully aroused, his flesh thick and ready. More moisture pooled between her legs. “Come to me, minotaur,” she demanded in a husky voice that sounded completely unlike her. He moved to the bed, his muscles flexing and relaxing with his every step. As smooth as water, he flowed over her, covering her from

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head to toes, yet not giving her any of his weight. Tears burned in the back of her eyes. He was so worried for her. Idiot bull. “I love you, you stupid man,” she mumbled as she lifted her mouth to his. His laugh was soft and intimate. “That’s good, otherwise I might have felt insulted.” Their lips met in a gentle, searching kiss that quickly grew out of control. Izzy couldn’t help herself. She always needed more where he was concerned. Maybe in a few centuries she might be able to live on little doses of Grant, but for now, she planned to overindulge. His erection pressed against her thigh like a brand and she needed it inside her. Now. Squirming as much as she could, Izzy tried to tell Grant what she wanted without words. He was a fucking genius, she decided with a sigh of relief, because he shifted his hips. The head of his cock nudged at the mouth of her pussy. But he didn’t enter her. In fact, he pulled back, lifting himself to his arms to hover over her. “Grant,” she growled. “You can’t move a muscle, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” The seriousness in his face told her he would stop if he thought for one moment she was in pain. “I’m a fucking Amazon, bull boy, pain is for pussies. Now give me my cock!” A spark of amusement flamed to life in his black eyes, but quickly died. “You only get it if you promise to keep still.” “Fine, but get to work already!” “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a mock salute. And boy did he! With exaggerated gentleness, he positioned her body the way he wanted, spreading her thighs wide before he settled between them. Braced above her, his eyes met hers as he guided his cock to the tight entrance of her body. She sucked in a deep breath as she felt herself stretch around him. Inch by slow, tortuous inch, he slid into her, gently forcing his way past the tight muscles of her channel. Her eyes rolled back in her head

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when he nudged the mouth of her womb. He was balls deep and nothing had ever felt so perfect. Then he leaned over until his mouth touched the shell of her ear. “I love you.” Just like that, her body went up in flames as her orgasm roared to life. Her pussy clenched around his unmoving cock. She tried to rock her hips on him for more, but he held her fast, keeping her immobile. He ground his pubic bone against her clit, prolonging her orgasm until she nearly fainted from the pleasure. When she came to herself again, he was poised above her, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself still. Blurryeyed, she blinked several times until she focused on his face. “Now that that’s out of the way, I can pleasure you.” “P–Pleasure me?” she stammered. “But—” He shook his head, flinging his hair out of his eyes. “That was just the appetizer, baby.” She only had a moment to think oh fuck before he started moving. Slow and easy, he shuttled his cock along her sensitized passage. Her nerve endings sparked back to life and the tension built again. She bit her lip to hold back her moans and pleas for mercy until Grant withdrew completely. Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. “What—” “Just wanted to make sure you were still with me, baby,” Grant assured her as he sank into her again. Her eyes crossed, her toes curled as pleasure swept through her. Her mate was relentless, teasing her to the peak over and over again until she was soaked with sweat and begging him for release. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, one of his hands slipped between them, his thumb strumming her clit. “I love you,” she screamed at her hovering mate as the most powerful, crippling orgasm of her life slammed into her with all of the tenderness of a freight train.

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Grant shouted, his body convulsing as her inner muscles massaged his cock with tight, relentless pulls. He bucked against her, again nudging her womb a split second before his seed jetted out of him and into her. The scalding hot splash of his release sent Izzy off into another mini-orgasm that caused tears to pour down her face. For long minutes they ceased to exist, floating in the satisfaction they’d give each other. It was with regret that Izzy came back to herself, but she looked up to see Grant had returned as well. His blue eyes glowed with love, desire, and contentment. “My mate,” he purred as he kissed her. Humming with happiness, Izzy returned her mate’s kiss, immersing herself in his taste. One day, hopefully soon, she’d totally rock his world in return. She had a feeling their lives would be spent trying to one-up each other in bed and damn, what a way to go! Grant pulled back to look at her again. “I just realized something.” “Mm, what’s that?” she asked, not really interested. She felt so perfectly content, she wasn’t sure anything could fuck up her roll. “You lost our bet.” Her eyes snapped open. “No I didn’t.” “Yes, you did. I seduced you.” “You did not. If you remember right, I seduced you first and then you seduced me. So I won the bet.” He frowned down at her, but a smile lurked in his eyes. “I think we both won, what do you think?” Izzy sniffed. “I’ll concede that it was a draw. So we’ll have to make another bet.” “Sounds good to me.”

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Epilogue Three months later… It looked like a battle was about to break out. The opposing sides stood far apart with a wide expanse of rich, green grass between them. It was completely silent as not a single being moved. Izzy’s heart pounded as adrenaline rushed through her veins. This was fucking it! The moment she’d been anticipating for months! It was finally going to happen. Eventually. She frowned at the cloudless sky and shrugged, trying to ease the tension from her shoulders. Her sisters held their heads high as they stared at the people across the field. Izzy followed their gazes and swallowed against the tightness in her throat. There were hundreds of shifters staring back at her, their animal eyes assessing. Her heart fluttered before she forcibly calmed it down again. She was not a coward. She could do this. Right? Sudden movement from the direction of the Black Dog Camp interrupted her moment of self-doubt and she turned to watch. Grant, his hair shining like gold in the bright sunlight, marched behind Queen Albreda and her elite guards. His arms were at his sides, his face grim. He should’ve looked vulnerable striding behind the Amazons without his shirt, but to Izzy, he looked like a pagan god. She was mesmerized by the bunching of his muscles and the gleam of his sun-kissed skin. Someone elbowed her, dragging her attention back to what was happening. Rosetta frowned and shook her head. Reading the

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disapproval in her friend’s face, Izzy composed her face and stared back at the shifters across the field. They had glanced at Grant as well, and their faces were just as grim and unwelcoming as his. Her palms started to sweat. She wasn’t sure she could do this. Gods, she had shitty timing! She should’ve spoken up weeks ago, but she’d been too focused on Grant and how he made her feel to actually think like a rational person. And now it was too late. Or was it? Her eyes searched for an escape route and she encountered Fallon’s steady gaze. He winked slightly before he arranged his face into solemn lines. Okay, she could do this. Her friends had faith in her. She sucked in a deep breath as Grant approached the center of the neutral ground between both groups. Without looking in either direction, he knelt on the grass and lifted his head to Izzy’s queen. Queen Albreda stared at him for a moment before she swept her eyes over both groups focused on her. She held her hand out to Saga. A sharp tool was slapped in her palm. Her other hand went to Ocean, who placed a small pot in it. The queen sought out Izzy and nodded. This was it. She stepped forward and marched to meet the group. She stared straight ahead, not sure she could keep her shit together if she happened to see doubt in any of her sisters’ or friends’ eyes. She passed Fallon, Malachi and Lani, Ruby and Lucian, Connor and Piper, Shikoba, Tia, and several of her other close friends without meeting their eyes. Her throat was dry and threatened to tighten on her by the time she reached the queen, but she followed protocol and bowed her head. “Isola Malone, you have requested that this minotaur be accepted as member of the Blood Maiden Tribe by right of mating.” Queen Albreda’s voice carried over the silent field. “Is it still your wish to bond with this male for the rest of your days?” It took every ounce of willpower she had not to look at Grant. It wasn’t allowed, not yet. Instead, she met her queen’s calm blue eyes.

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She licked her lips, or tried to because her fucking mouth was still dry! Gah! Izzy cleared her throat. “Yes, my queen, I humbly request that Grant Strickland is accepted as my mate and welcomed to my sisters’ tribe.” Albreda’s eyes went behind Izzy to the group behind her. “Do the Blood Maidens accept this request?” There was a heartbeat of silence, and Izzy thought she was going to die. Then the field was crashed by the sound of hundreds of fists thumping on shields. The thumps were in absolute unison as every Amazon marked their acceptance of Grant into their lives. Tears burned her eyes. Gods, she loved her sisters. She peeked down at Grant’s upturned face. And she loved this male with all of her being. If they hadn’t accepted him, she would have gone loner again to stay with him. Now, that wasn’t necessary. They would both be welcome in the Blood Maiden Tribe. Albreda’s gaze swept over Grant. “Minotaur, you accept this Amazon’s claim?” “I do.” His voice was steady and confident. The bastard. He could’ve at least sounded as freaked out as she felt! “Then let the marking begin,” the queen announced. **** Grant held completely still as his mate’s symbol was tattooed on his chest. He’d thought his heart was going to stop when he’d seen how scared Isola looked. She’d looked like she was on the verge of bolting and only knowing he had to act docile had kept him from tackling her. The Amazon mating ceremony was bizarre to his way of thinking, but considering the Amazons didn’t really have mating instincts, he supposed he could understand it. Unlike shifters, who had bonds that could be felt and seen upon a mating, the Amazons could only pray their hearts led them in the right direction.

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He heard a woman sniffle and bit back his smile. His mother hadn’t been happy about the location or style of the mating ceremony, but she’d come around when she realized she had free rein over the food. None of the Amazons cared what they ate and would’ve gone hunting if it hadn’t been for his family’s vegetarian tendencies. Bella had rallied Paul’s former harem and all of Grant’s sisters for cooking duties. He’d wanted to kiss his new in-laws’ feet for giving his female relatives something to do besides bother the hell out of him. The last three months had been spent trying to organize security for the Veilerian Ball, help his mate settle into the Black Dog Camp, fuck her blind every night, and deal with his family. The tapping of the needle into his chest finally stopped and Grant blinked. It was over so soon? The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than dyed salt water was poured onto the marking. They’d told him the dye would sink into his skin while the salt water would keep his body from healing the wound. Sharp pain radiated from the spot, but he held his groan back. Damn! Just when he thought he might pass out from the burn, something soft and smelling of roses tackled him. Automatically wrapping his arms around his mate, Grant let himself fall, landing on his back with Isola perched on him. Their lips met and all pain was forgotten as she seemed determined to devour him in front of their friends and families. Grant was strangely okay with that idea and matched her tongue stroke for stroke. A roar caught his attention and he pulled back to see that they were surrounded by Amazons, cow-swans, bear shifters, and other races. Family had interfered again. Dammit. He glanced at Isola to see her pupils blown wide with desire. Unable to help himself, he kissed her again before he allowed her to be pulled away by her sisters.

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Someone gripped his hand and yanked him to his feet. It was his father, who slapped his back with a broad smile. “That was a fine ceremony, boy. You did good pickin’ her.” Bella frowned at her mate before she dabbed at Grant’s tattoo. “It was barbaric,” she muttered in a soft tone to avoid being heard by the Amazons celebrating a few feet away. “Look at your chest!” “That’s some tattoo, cuz,” Ricky drawled as he slapped Grant’s back. “And that was some kiss.” But his cousin wasn’t paying attention to him, his eyes sweeping the crowd of guests for one Amazon in particular. Grant had told his cousin that Saga was not going to be receptive to him, but the bear was determined to get at her. He and Isola suspected the two would end up mating before the year was out. Isola had been granted permission to reopen the Black Dog Camp as a training facility which meant Eustis was about to become a mecca for nomadic Amazons. The VPA, High Council, and Council of Amazons had all agreed that a camp run by a third party would aid the Amazons as well as others who wanted specialized skills. With Saga, Isola, Rosetta, and Ravanna as instructors, the camp already had over two hundred trainees. It meant a revival of the tithe laws, which had every Veilerian male within two hundred miles of the camp sweating with anticipation and fear. Ricky had already told Grant that he planned to offer to pay his tithe to Saga at the first quarter. He only hoped his cousin realized what he was asking for. Grant had a feeling Saga would twist the bear inside out and sideways without a thought. Problem was, Ricky would love every minute of it. He glanced at his mate, who was surrounded by her friends and sisters. She glowed with health and love. She was so beautiful to him, so utterly perfect, he’d spent the last three months thinking how lucky he was to have her as a mate.

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She must’ve sensed his gaze because she looked over at him. The love and trust shining in her dark eyes left him breathless. Gods, he loved this woman! Someone slapped his shoulder. He turned to see Fallon, Lucian, Connor, and Malachi standing next to him. They were all grinning like idiots, and that was when he realized he was as well. “Great ceremony,” Lucian said with a hungry look at his mate. He was slightly sunburned, but it seemed that the potion one of his vampire friends had concocted was working. “Ma fouine looks very happy, taureau,” Fallon told him with a solemn nod. “As long as you keep her that way, we will not have problems, yes?” He would’ve scoffed at the thought of fighting the incubus again, but realized it was Fallon’s way of saying he approved of their mating and wished the best for them. “Thanks, and yeah, you can kick my ass if I make her unhappy.” “Unless she kicks it first,” Malachi inserted with a wicked smile. “That girl has some serious skills of the kick-ass variety.” “Mm, man candy,” a deep voice purred. They all whirled around to see Rosetta eyeing them like a hungry wolf. She was on the arm of a much shorter man with a round belly and glasses, but there was obvious affection between the two of them. The round man cleared his throat and Rosetta blinked. “Sorry, baby. Y’all, this is my date, Bruce. Bruce, these gorgeous slabs of man meat are mates of my friends.” Bruce nodded, but didn’t look in the least bit put out by Rosetta’s words. In fact, he looked downright indulgent as though he had a secret. From the smile on Rosetta’s face, it was a secret she shared. Grant cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming, Bruce.” Rosetta snickered and he felt a blush burn his face. That’s when he noticed that Rosetta’s lipstick was smeared, her hair was disheveled, and Bruce’s glasses were lopsided. Yeah, uncomfortable much?

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“Are you tormenting my mate, Rosetta?” Isola growled as she appeared next to him. “Oh, hey Bruce.” She turned to Rosetta, her body tense. “You gonna make me kick your ass on my mating day, slut?” The drag queen rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me windmill your ass like the dirty whore you are.” Just when it looked as though the friends would scuffle, there was a loud crack that caught everyone’s attention. Heads swiveled as they searched for the origin of the noise until they noticed Ricky’s broad grin. Saga was walking away from the bear, her body stiff with anger. The handprint on Ricky’s face was all the evidence anyone needed that the bear had pissed the Amazon off. Isola and Rosetta looked at each other with wide eyes. “They’re so going to fuck,” Isola whispered to her friend. “Girl, did you see Saga’s face?” The two tittered and bent their heads together to talk about what they’d witnessed. Grant stared at them, not sure how they could go from fighting to giggling. He met Bruce’s understanding gaze and shrugged. “Wanna grab a beer?” he asked the bull moose. “Sure.” Together, they walked towards Ricky who was still staring after Saga with what Grant could only describe as a bovine lovesick look on his face. Grabbing his cousin’s arm, he led the bear towards the coolers holding the beer. Yup, looked like he and Bruce were going to have to teach Ricky how to love an Amazon. **** Izzy screamed as Grant slammed into her one last time, his seed spilling into her like a hot tide. Thanks to her mate’s efforts, she

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couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, could barely even think. Scratch that, she couldn’t think at all. He’d fucked her good and hard and left her wanting more. She finally caught her breath and lifted her limp arms to stroke his quivering body. The scent of their lovemaking hovered in the air, citrus and rose and wild sex. If she could move her legs, she’d wrap them around her mate, but she was done for. “Love you,” he growled against her neck. His voice vibrated through her body, lighting along all of her pulse points. “Love you so fucking much.” “Love you, too.” He moved slightly making her hiss as his cock dragged along her inner walls. This time, her legs obeyed her commands and snapped around his hips to hold him in place. He looked at her questioningly. “I don’t want you to leave me.” Dammit, she sounded pathetic! “I mean, right now, like this instant. You can, you know, go places and um, stuff.” He grinned at her. “I wasn’t planning to any time soon.” Was it stupid to feel relieved? She didn’t care if it was, she had her mate right where she wanted him. He turned on his side, still clasped by her pussy, and arranged their limbs so they were both more comfortable. They were quiet for a long time, just holding each other and listening to the sound of the party in the distance. They’d left at sundown because neither of them could take the anticipation any longer, and they’d spent that entire time teasing and torturing each other to orgasm. Izzy sighed gustily, contentedly. She’d never expected to be so satisfied. Ever. But there was one thing niggling at her, and she knew she had to break this quiet peace. She cleared her throat, the sound unnaturally loud in the silence of their bedroom. “Baby?” Grant murmured as he shifted his hold on her. “I have to tell you something.”

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Maybe she should’ve picked a different time to do this because he tensed against her. Shit, how to tell him? She wasn’t even sure how she felt about it, wasn’t sure if it was even true. But she had a suspicion and she had to share it with him. They were mates. They were supposed to share everything about each other. “Isola, what is it?” His voice was so calm and steady, but she could feel the escalating tension in him. Fuck. Better to just say it and get it over with. Right? “I’m pregnant. I think. I’m not sure. I’ve never been pregnant before, so I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like and it’s not like I can ask my sisters without them saying something to piss me off and then I’d want to fight them and then you’d wonder what was going on and think I didn’t want to tell you and then we’d fight and—” His hard lips stopped the torrent of words she couldn’t seem to halt. He teased her lips with his tongue until she opened to him. Then he conquered her mouth, sweeping in and throwing every single scared, senseless thought out of her head. She clutched at his shoulders, pulling him to her until their bodies were molded from chest to hip. Gods, she loved this man so much, she sometimes thought she would burst from it. Tangling her fingers in his hair, Izzy enjoyed the taste of him until her body was so fired up with need, she moaned. That’s when he pulled away. His eyes had gone completely black with need and his nostrils flared. Her arms were looped around his neck and she couldn’t help but touch the ring that had once been his piercing. He’d had it melted down to create a wedding ring for her even though neither of their people wore them. “Woman, you make me so crazy,” he growled at her smile. “How do you feel about it?” It? She loved his ring…Oh, right, the baby. “I don’t know. I’m um, nervous and a little scared. I don’t know how to be a mom or anything, and I have a feeling I’m going to want to kill you during the labor.” She tried to shrug, which was impossible in her position.

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Instead, she made a “meh” face. “I never really thought of myself as having kids, but if I have you at my side, I think I can do it.” His smile was slow in forming, but once it crossed his face, her breath caught in her throat. “I bet you can.” Her competitive side reared its head at the words. “You’re betting we can raise a kid and not fuck it up too much?” Grant laughed and kissed her hard. “Baby, I bet we can do that and make a dozen more who come out somewhat normal. What do you think?” Izzy thought about it a moment. Dozens of kids, huh? Some would be Amazons, some would be minotaurs. Some would look like her, some would look like Grant, and they’d all be pains in the asses because of their parents. She couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll take that bet as long as we can rope your mom into babysitting.”

THE END

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Danica Avet was born and raised in the wilds of South Louisiana (that would be somewhere around Houma) where mosquitoes are big enough to carry off small children and there are only two seasons: hot and hotter. With a BA in History, she figured there were enough fry cooks in the world and decided to try her hand at writing. For eight years she played at writing, but in 2008, she decided to get serious and began down the rocky road to publication. Unmarried with no children, Danica is the lucky pet of a compulsively needy dog and two cats. The pitter-patter of little feet has been known to make her break out into a cold sweat. Writing is how she gives the voices in her head a way out. They speak to her constantly wanting their stories told and she does her best to accommodate them. She writes paranormal romance and may eventually branch out to contemporaries. When she isn’t writing, working, or contemplating the complexities of the universe, she spends time gathering inspiration from her insane family, reads far more than any sane person would want to, and watches hot burly men chase an oblong ball all over a field.

Also by Danica Avet Siren Classic: The Veil 1: Ruby: Uncut and on the Loose Siren Classic: The Veil 2: Succubus-in-Waiting Siren Classic: The Veil 3: Lifestyles of the Fey and Dangerous

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com