In Search of the Fountain of Couth

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In Search of the Fountain of Couth Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh Copyright © 2011 by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, recording, electronic transmission, or by any information storage or retrieval system without prior written permission from the authors or holders of the copyright. This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. Published by Beautiful Trouble Publishing, LLC PO Box 61 Colfax, NC 27235 www.beautifultroublepublishing.com Cover Art: Shara Azod Editor: Stephanie Parent Proofreader: Novellette Whyte http://authorgurunovellette.blogspot.com/ Formatting: Jim & Zetta http://www.jimandzetta.com/ E-book conversions: Jim & Zetta http://www.jimandzetta.com/ ISBN: (ebook) 978-1-61788-160-2; (print) 978-1-61788-161-9

To little brothers, big sisters (and big brothers and little sisters)...and the forces in the universe that stop you from jooging them in the throat. Grin. And to Dréa, who insists that she owns all of this. That’s highly debatable (as the JandJ kept DIBS on Fletcher, Grandma, the Granddaddies etc), however what’s not debatable is that we do indeed love you. —Jeanie and Jayha

Note about eBooks eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving away eBooks is a copyright infringement. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author or Beautiful Trouble Publishing.

CAVEAT This work of erotica contains adult language and sexually explicit scenes, which are smoking hot. This book is intended only for adults, as it is defined by the laws of the country in which the purchase is made. Keep this book out of the hands of under-aged readers.

“If I have to deal with it, it’s going to be a breaking-news-story type day and you’re going to find yourself swimming in the blood of the nonbelievers,” he promised before he hung up the phone. “Ah, it’s so good to see you’re getting along with people,” Continent said. “Do you have a problem with the way I run Human Resources?” MountDenali asked his cousin. “I have a problem with the fact that you think you’re ‘running’ Human Resources.” “Really?” MountDenali asked. “Really,” his cousin replied. And that was all it took for MountDenali to haul off and punch his cousin in the face. Looking at the clock, he smiled. He’d set a new personal best for the longest he’d been in the office without having to maim someone: ten minutes, forty-three seconds. Still, that was nine minutes too long. Bemoaning the existence of others, MountDenali headed outside knowing it was well past time to get out of Dodge if there was going to be anyone unmaimed to drive the ice roads. A solid dose of solitude would do wonders for his temper. Of course, he’d only made that decision once Continent had told 7

him to get the fuck out and punctuated it with an elbow to the back of the head. MountDenali didn’t even bother to tell anyone he was leaving, and due to the wave of asshole rolling off of him, no one even fixed their mouths to ask. Securing a cup of coffee, he climbed in his truck and headed to his winter cabin that was tucked deep into the Alaskan wilderness. He stripped, shifted and headed off for a run the moment the truck stopped. Sure it was cold, but the cold didn’t bother him, just like the heat didn’t. No kind of weather bothered him…only people with working voice boxes did. ** No one would ever accuse MountDenali Mann of having tact, good taste or good sense. Of course, he didn’t give two shits about what people said or thought about him as long as they did it out of earshot. He knew who he was (a Mann), what he was (one of the baddest motherfuckers in all of anywhere), and what he wanted (anything his heart desired…and he wasn’t shy about demanding it). What he wanted first and foremost was to be left the fuck alone. It wasn’t much to ask, especially considering that he saw to his duties during the day. Mann Trucking was the premier trucking company 8

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh west of the Rockies. That was why he felt no guilt about the tenacity with which he pursued his pleasures by night. MountDenali lived by the three F’s: fighting, food, and fucking—and not necessarily in that order. Rarely did he have to be coerced to join into a fight or partake in vittles, but females…now that was a whole ’nother story. A male who wasn’t particularly picky about shit else, he was damn selective about partners. While he could appreciate all females, he had a thing for members of the fairer sex who were big and mean. The bigger and meaner they were, the more they called to him. Topping seven feet and three hundred ten pounds, his eye always wandered to females size eighteen and up. Try as he might (and appreciating the opposite sex like he did, he had given it more than the old college try), he just couldn’t let go with petite lovers for fear he’d break something. It wasn’t just the size that turned him on—feistiness had the same effect. Many of his road dogs harbored fantasies of nabbing the proverbial lady-in-waiting type, but knowing that asshole ran deep in his family, he couldn’t in good conscience wish for that sort of partner. Nah, he needed a female who could give as good as she got— both in bed and out of it. While he’d found females who were good in bed and a few who could match his asshole and raise it, 9

he’d yet to find all of that in one lover. Unlike many of the males in his family, he hadn’t scoured the world looking for her, but when he came across her, he’d tear up hell and half of Georgia to keep her. Of course, being a shifter in his prime, and a Mann shifter at that, he wasn’t in any rush to settle down just yet…especially when the females flocked to him. As they should. He had plenty to keep him busy. Dealing with the family’s ice road trucking company was fairly routine, if one didn’t count the unpredictable weather, the unpredictable drivers, or the unpredictable customers. In all actuality, he didn’t. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about the weather, so he didn’t worry about it. If worse came to worst, drivers and vendors could always go missing, not that Continent approved of killing as a way to end disputes. Still, he put up with people and shifters because the industry allowed him copious time to himself, as the bulk of the work took place over just a few months of the year. While there was work to do the rest of the year, it still left more than ample time to work on his other love: doing what he could to maintain his coveted Alaska Territory Asshole of the Year title. Unlike beauty queens, he had no crown or sash, but he had something better: bona fide championship belts proclaiming him the best there was. 10

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh True, he’d only had a shot at the title once his older brother Yukon and his platonic life mate, Sendoa Ryan, had taken themselves out of the running by moving the hell out of Alaska, but he’d done what even those two hadn’t been able to accomplish: he’d unified the titles. Before Sendoa had moved to Alaska, Yukon had held the title for fifteen straight years. Once Sendoa made it clear he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, he and Yukon had been voted co-assholes of the year— every year—and been promptly dubbed “Asshole One” and “Asshole Two.” He couldn’t overlook their feat, but they’d only held the title for Alaska Territory. MountDenali, on the hand, not only held that title, but had also wrested away the title for Asshole of all of the Rocky Mountains, and Asshole for everything above 45°N latitude and between 100° through 160° W Longitude, affectionately referred to as “them cold as hell places.” He carried his titles with pride…and wore one of the belts each day to work…just to remind motherfuckers who he was and what he was capable of…at any given moment. Considering the fact that the area was inundated with rough motherfuckers, one would think he’d have more competition. If Asshole One and Asshole Two ever decided to move back home, he might’ve, although he suspected uncle-hood had made them a 11

bit soft. It was hard maintaining that sweet mix of asshole and motherfucker when one spent threequarters of every day cuddling babies and making googoo eyes at them. The forecast was bleak. It looked like he wasn’t going to have much competition this year, although it did appear he’d have to kick off a slew M-D-Ks before the ice roads even officially opened.

12

Balere Kennesaw was one of the few people who could honestly say they loved their jobs. Of course, it was hard not to love your job when you drove one of the most badass things in existence. Sure, driving the custom-detailed rig that turned heads wasn’t as fun as driving six foot five inches, two hundred twenty-five pounds of grade-A hotness, but that was another complaint for another time. Hopefully, a time when she had her vibrator in hand and some free time. Right now, she had bigger fish to fry, namely which motherfucker was about to intrude on her solitude and her sanity. A woman who liked adventure, she also appreciated badassedness. That is, in everything except that badass motley band of women others insisted were her sisters. While they all loved the shit out of each other, copious time apart was necessary to prevent bloodshed, massacres and the like, she thought while waiting for her sister to arrive. Balere wasn’t even given the courtesy of knowing which sister was arriving; she was simply given instructions to go fetch her. Regardless of wanting to argue with Grandma Belva, she knew better than to fix her lips to utter anything that remotely resembled a 13

protest. Grandma Belva might be of incalculable age, but an elbow to the windpipe still hurt regardless of who was delivering it. It didn’t matter where she was; one of her sisters would always track her down and make a nuisance of themselves. One would be hard-pressed to believe that Arkham, Raider, Matrix and Shazam! (exclamation point included) not only had jobs, but were damn accomplished at them, with the way they habitually dropped in and made themselves at home in her rig. Sure, she’d told all of them at one time or another to “fuck off,” but that insult went in one ear and right out the other. One day, she’d admit that she loved those crazy bitches, but it wouldn’t be today, she thought as she watched Arkham stroll her way. Of all of her relatives, Arkham gave her the most pause. Chick was a “What the Fuck” moment just waiting to happen. Actually, her entire life was a montage of “What the Fuck” moments. And when she said “What the Fuck” moments, she meant it. Arkham was one of the few Kennesaws whom even the rest of the Kennesaw clan tiptoed around…with good reason. There was a whole lot of crazy tucked into her six foot, two hundred ten pound frame. No one could blame genetics for all that crazy because there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with her mind, as evidenced by her Ph.D. 14

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh Balere blamed it on those semesters of northern exposure Arkham experienced while in grad school. Okay, technically South Dakota was more the Midwest then the North, but anywhere that didn’t have sweet tea as a default was a place that Southerners didn’t need to be. Sweet tea deprivation might’ve had a little something to do with it, but the truth was that Arkham wasn’t crazy; Arkham was just an asshole. And when her asshole was challenged, somebody was going to have a bad day. To be fair, Arkham didn’t just fuck up someone’s shit all unannounced; Arkham gave fair warning first, which usually began with “Motherfucker, you got one more time.” When Arkham popped off that “back off” speech, it was best to not just back off, but to get the hell out. Those who didn’t heed that warning simply had not fared well (or anymore). Arkham’s history was littered with unfortunate souls whose primary crime was being unable to pick up on a cue. Arkham had been kicked out of school, banned from church, had her rights to bear plastic eating utensils revoked, and even asked to leave a blood drive once when a competition between her and her sister Shazam! had gotten out of hand. It was no wonder they called her Arkham—not that there was an asylum that could hold her if someone had been crazy enough to try and have her committed. Still, she was her 15

sister, and as such, she couldn’t choke-slam her into the snow and peel off like she wanted to. And hearing the ruckus in Arkham’s “luggage,” oh how she wanted to.

16

“What’s in those crates, Arkham?” Balere asked her lunatic sister for the six millionth time. For the six millionth time, Arkham didn’t tell her. It wasn’t the not telling her that concerned Balere; it was the look on her sister’s face. Arkham’s dark eyes literally glittered with excitement. Balere didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know there was something up with her sister’s “luggage.” First, all kinds of sounds were coming from those wooden crates—none of which Balere had been able to identify. Second, Arkham’s faithful two-yearold Rottweiler, Predator, hadn’t taken his eyes off those crates. Third, it was Arkham who had once left her boyfriend unexpectedly spilling his DNA after a game of Scrabble had gotten out of hand. ’Nuf said. Drawing upon her deep well of patience, Balere simply let her sister be, knowing that was the best way to avoid bloodshed. Sooner or later she’d find out what her sister was smuggling in the crates. She just hoped it wouldn’t land them on some kind of list. Correction—she hoped it didn’t land her on some kind of list. Arkham was already on a whole bunch of lists, as she had the tendency to leave unsuspecting souls in a pool of their own blood. That, however, was a story 17

for another day, she thought as she spied their turnoff. “We’re here. Just stay in the truck. I’ll check in with whichever Mann brother has the helm and see where we’re at with the hauls.” Arkham didn’t respond. She simply snuggled closer to Predator and went into plot mode. The average person would take one look at Arkham and think she was asleep, but Balere knew better. It was the smile-smirk that gave it away. Of course all of Arkham’s looks were variations of a smirk, but since she’d been quiet for the whole hour and forty minute trip up to the base, Balere let it slide. ** As soon as Balere was far enough away from the truck, Arkham sprang into action. Carefully tucking the blanket around her baby Predator, she set about unpacking the crates and getting her surprise ready for Balere. ** Balere took one look at Continent’s face and smiled. “Good to see you and MountDenali getting along so well.” “I know, right?” the seven-foot specimen of 18

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh bronze hotness agreed. “It was a full ten minutes before I had to kick his ass out of the office.” “I hope you got some back,” Balere said, recalling how difficult MountDenali had been about letting her drive for Mann Trucking. “Of course, I am, after all, the best thing going pretty much anywhere.” Balere couldn’t help but laugh at Continent’s attempt at flirting with her, just like she did every time he tried it. A handsome wolf shifter, he was part of the legendary Mann family. If she hadn’t been part of the legendary Kennesaw clan, she might’ve been impressed. She’d heard some stories about those Mann wolves, but she’d lived those stories with her family. Nobody did “what the fuck” like they did. Thoughts of family were interrupted by Continent’s last bit of flirting. Ah, she had to admit Continent—like all Mann shifters—flirted often and with expertise. If she hadn’t met Jagen Archon, Balere might’ve been stepping out of her panties right now and settling herself over Continent’s devastatingly handsome face, but she had met Jagen, so all she could do was smile. Balere liked Continent, but she wasn’t in like with the shifter. She had a man, and Continent had met said man, but that didn’t stop the wolf shifter from flirting. And liking him didn’t stop her from busting his chops. 19

“Dude, you so couldn’t handle me as your woman.” “Oh, but I’d like to try. Come on, Balere. You’re already my work wife, so you might as well make an honest wolf out of me.” “If I did that, you’d never get any work done, being barefoot and pregnant and all,” she quipped as they strolled to her ride. “You wound me,” he said. “Not yet, but I can pencil that in.” “If you won’t marry me, at least talk Cannon into pimping my ride,” Continent said as he eyed her rig. Before she could answer, she heard Predator yip twice before the rig door opened and Arkham jumped down from the cab. It wasn’t the fact that Arkham jumped from her cab that had her on edge, it was that look in her eye. Balere knew that look, and she knew to be highly suspicious of that look. Absently, Balere wondered if her grandma and granddaddies would be able to find Arkham’s body under the Ice Roads if she accidently-on-purpose killed her. “By the way, that’s my sister Arkham, and yes, she was born this way.” “What way?” Continent asked. “FUBAR—Fucked Up Beyond All Repair,” she responded, seeing the smile on her sister’s lips signaling that crazy wasn’t far away. 20

While Arkham may have appeared calm, Balere knew from experience that her sister was giddy with excitement. One would think she had left Arkham alone for hours rather than a scant ten minutes. Knowing her sister, Balere had practically sped through her check-in, as experience had taught her that zero minutes was the absolute limit she’d trust Arkham alone anywhere, much less inside of her rig. Arkham didn’t waste any time going into “explain” mode. “Don’t say anything. Just hear me out,” Arkham stated all casual like, as if they weren’t standing in the freezing cold. Balere didn’t even miss a beat, although she did throw a cursory glance in the direction of Continent. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Continent whispered. “Yep. Keep a lookout for any kind of anything,” Balere warned. “So, you know how you sometimes sleep in the cab, ’cause you’re tired and stuff?” Balere nodded. “And there’s always some unsavory character just hanging about, looking to get lucky with an 21

unsuspecting female who is all alone?” Balere’s eyebrows rose slightly but she remained silent, which Arkham obviously took as a sign to continue. “So you’re walking back to your truck like so...” Arkham imitated Balere’s walk, not knowing that she looked like she was an exaggerated version of the villain in a Spaghetti Western. “And then the shitface pops out of nowhere, and you’re all, ‘What the fuck?’” Arkham threw her hands up beside her head. Like Balere would ever do that. “And he’s all, ‘Yeah, you’re a hot mama and I’m going to have fun with you.’” Balere was unsure why her imaginary attacker had a Russian accent. “And then he goes to grab you, and you snatch open the cab door and...” Arkham pulled open the cab door and then exclaimed, “BAM! There’s a king cobra waiting to strike that fool DEAD!” Balere cocked her head to the left and stared at the snake on her driver’s seat. Well, that was one mystery solved. “You do know it’s illegal to possess one of these as pets, don’t you? Or do you know and just not give a shit?” “It’s not a pet. It’s a guard animal.” 22

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh “A guard animal which is deaf to ambient noises,” Balere stated. “They sense sound from contact with the ground,” Arkham responded. “They also have enough venom in their bite to take down an elephant.” “Luckily, you’re bigger than the average elephant, so even if it bit you, which it won’t—” “Not and live,” Balere interrupted. “Note the muzzle I made for him,” Arkham sighed. “That way Fluffy doesn’t accidentally spit venom at you when you scare him as you are bound to do, being that’s your specialty—scaring the shit out of people.” “Obviously you’re not ‘people,’ which explains so much, like sticking the snake with a name like ‘Fluffy.’ The other snakes are probably going to take its lunch money every day.” “Hate you right now, Balere. Anyway, Fluffy is badass,” Arkham said. “It doesn’t look particularly badass right now. It looks dead,” was Balere’s helpful comment. Of course, that didn’t stop Arkham, who simply grabbed the snake and shook it before cradling it in her arms like a baby. “Fluffy knows you’re not in danger, so he’s conserving his energy.” 23

Balere peered at the snake. “He’s comatose, Arkham.” Her sister shook her head. “He’s tired is all. It’s a long way from the forest.” “That he should still be in.” Ignoring her, Arkham continued. “I can see you’re not impressed with him.” “It’s not that I’m not impressed with him. What I’m not impressed with is the idea of the rats and mice diet I’d have to feed it. And if you say you have rats and mice stashed in my rig, it will be the last thing you say,” Balere threatened. “I would not be so crass as to put rodents in your little truck, Balere. I fed Fluffy another snake who was acting like an asshole before we left Southeast Asia.” “I have no words.” “Well, not to worry. I have plenty, so never fear, Arkham’s here.” And just like that, Arkham climbed back into the cab, somehow managing to keep hold of the damn snake. The door opened scant seconds later and Arkham jumped out again—sans snake, thank goodness. “Okay, so same scenario. Some real nasty dude…you wanting to sleep in the cab…he makes a grab for you and...” Arkham stepped to the side, revealing a full-grown puma—and not one of the 24

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh tennis shoe variety. As if accustomed to Arkham’s craziness, the puma lazily licked one of its front paws in between looking bored. She herself, on the other hand, wore a look of confusion. No telling what Arkham had subjected the puma to. “Rowrr,” was all the puma said before going back to cleaning its paw. “Is that a puma?” Continent asked. Balere felt that Continent really should’ve sounded more concerned, but yeah, Continent had MountDenali as a cousin, which explained his lack of urgency. “Yeah, see how he’s all ready to fuck shit up,” Arkham said enthusiastically, waggling her eyebrows at Balere. Balere simply folded her arms across her ample chest and gave Arkham a droll look. That look and pose gave Arkham a pause of a millisecond before she continued. “But wait...there’s more.” Arkham climbed back into the cab and barely a second later, slid back out. “Now I know what you’re thinking,” Arkham started. “I doubt it,” Continent said with a grin. Balere couldn’t help but smile while Arkham ignored him. “Really?” Balere asked Arkham, sure that her 25

eyebrows were high up on her forehead. “Yep. You’re thinking, ‘what could possibly top a guard puma,’ right?” Balere couldn’t help it. She smiled at Arkham, which soon turned into a full-on belly laugh. Arkham waited patiently until her laugh petered down to a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking,” Balere finally answered. “I know, right? ’Cause what’s better than a guard puma? Well, I’m going to jazz up the scenario this time. I don’t want it getting stale or predictable.” “God forbid,” Balere said, blank-faced once more. “I can’t wait for this,” Continent whispered excitedly to Balere. She simply rolled her eyes. Continent would’ve been singing a different song if he’d experienced growing up with Arkham. “So, picture this.” Arkham spread her arms wide. “Sicily, in the 1930s,” Balere inserted just because it was habit. “Hey, no interrupting,” Arkham insisted before continuing her spiel. “You’re tired from driving all night and day for a month—” Despite just being warned, Balere interrupted. “I’d also be a zombie, because there’s no one who can 26

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh do that for a whole month—DOT rules notwithstanding.” Of course Arkham took no notice whatsoever and simply continued setting the scene. “You’re like, hey, there’s a nice quiet spot, onthe-side-of-the-road-by-the-big-dark-forest-wheresomeone-could-bury-my-dead-body-in-a-shallowgrave-and-I-won’t-be-found-until-the-ice-melts—” “Yeah, that sounds exactly like something I’d say.” Balere received a stony glare from Arkham for her trouble. “So you pull over and you get your blanky—” “You have a blanky?” Continent asked Balere, earning a double dose of glare for his efforts. “And you cover up and get all snuggly—” Continent snorted, probably because Balere elbowed him in the solar plexus. “You’re almost asleep when…” Arkham paused. In fact, she paused for so long Balere emitted three sighs before Arkham finally continued. “Some mofo throws open the cab door—” “Which I would’ve locked.” Arkham kept talking. “And what does nasty bastard with ill intent find himself faced with?” Balere had no intention of responding, but Arkham looked so expectant. 27

“An English professor putting a big, fat zero on his paper for ending a sentence with a preposition?” “If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m going to leave,” Arkham threatened. “Before or after you leave someone in a pool of his or her own blood?” Balere asked. Balere knew Arkham was certifiable, but couldn’t resist fucking with her. Continent, however, either didn’t know this or didn’t care and thus raised his hand. Balere elbowed him in the gut, but it was too late. Arkham was on a roll. “BAM!” Arkham said as she threw open the cab door and revealed a fucking Komodo dragon lounging all casual like on the seats. “Oh, hi, Pretty Lady, you must be Balere. My name’s Fletcher and I’m here to keep you safe…and make all of your dreams come true,” he announced. Actually, the Komodo purred the line, but it was difficult to process every detail through the shock. “He seems friendly,” Continent remarked as he laughed at Arkham, who was hopping from one foot to the other in excitement. “He talks,” Balere said, frowning. “That’s problem number one.” “He’s a terrible flirt, but he’s hot!” Arkham said with a nod. 28

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh “And like most Komodo dragons, I’m guessing he has poor hearing and can’t see a damn thing at night or differentiate a lot of things during the day?” “He’s a shifter, so I’m guessing none of the regular rules apply,” Continent threw in all helpful like. Ignoring him, Balere continued. “How the fuck did you manage to smuggle a veritable zoo into the country, Arkham?” “Granddaddies,” Arkham answered. “Of course,” Balere said as she took another moment to stare at the Komodo, who had crawled into the driver’s seat and placed its front paws on the steering wheel like he was about to drive. As motherfucking if, Balere thought a moment before she wondered how the dragon was so flexible. “Stay here,” Balere ordered Arkham. Turning to Continent, who was eyeing her sister with a mixture of fear and more fear, she issued a commandment. “Make sure Arkham doesn’t do anything crazier than she already has.” Walking off, Balere pulled out the satellite phone and dialed home. The call was answered on the first ring. “Grandma, may I speak with the Granddaddies, please?” “Absolutely, but first tell me what they did.” “Remember the merman?” 29

“Yes, considering he’s still in our pool and your granddaddies threaten him on the daily.” “Well, now you’re going to have to do something with a puma, a king cobra snake, and a Komodo Dragon shifter.” A moment later her granddaddies came on the line. “It’s not our fault.” “Really, Granddaddies?” “Yes, really. Arkham wanted the little animals for you…to protect you, baby,” Vampire Granddaddy said without the least bit of repentance in his voice. “And we made sure they got all their shots before we snuck them through Customs,” Shifter Granddaddy said helpfully. Balere sighed. She should’ve known better than to try and convince her granddaddies of the over-thelineness of their spoiling. No matter what anyone said, including her Grandma Belva, the Granddaddies simply couldn’t help but spoil their grandbabies, regardless of how old said grandbabies were. Thus, she needed to talk to the voice of reason. “You know you two are still wrong.” “You should tell your grandma to spank us,” Vampire Granddaddy said. “Yes, Belva, did you hear that? Balere said you should spank us,” Shifter Granddaddy said. “TMI, everyone,” Balere said, wondering when 30

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh exactly she’d lost control of the conversation. “Go do what it is you do,” she added, trying to hurry them all off of the phone before she heard stuff. “First, you have to tell us you love us,” Vampire Granddaddy said firmly. Balere chuckled. “Of course I love you, Granddaddies, even if y’all are crazy.” “We love you too, baby.”

31

Continent had no idea his day was about to be so crazy, but there he was, babysitting Balere’s sister and her animals. “So...you’re Australian,” Continent spoke to the lizard not because he gave a shit but so he knew where to ship the body if the lizard made a move wrong. “Yep. Lots of people assume that Komodo dragons are from Asia, which isn’t necessarily wrong, but few people know we originated in Australia.” Fletcher said, flicking his tail. Continent wondered how many pairs of boots he could get out of that tail. “Good to know. You got a big family?” Would anyone miss you if you went missing? Normally, Continent wasn’t one for small talk, but he had to cover up the silence because frankly, he was scared of what Arkham would do with it. Balere did have a big rig, and yeah, Arkham could have a body or six in there for all he knew. “Yeah, four brothers and two sisters. They’ve all got families of their own so we don’t get together as often as we used to. You know how it is.” Fletcher gave a shrug. Continent nodded despite not knowing how it 32

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh was. The Mann clan didn’t need a reason or an invitation to swarm down on him. “The puma and the cobra aren’t shifters as well, are they?” “Nope, just my glorious self. The lovely Arkham didn’t realize I was a shifter until I shifted into human form whilst she was attempting to ‘coerce’ me into her vehicle with the aid of duct tape and a big stick. Of course, Arkham didn’t know that coercing wasn’t required, as I’d follow her anywhere.” “Like to your own death,” Continent muttered too low for Arkham to hear but plenty loud for the Komodo. To his disbelief, the Komodo responded to his words with naught but a grin. The Australian’s complete lack of give a damn about his safety stunned Continent. Sure, Arkham was a good-looking and tall drink of water (for a human), but yeah, any female toting duct tape and a stick and coming at him better be naked and a bed better be nearby. “We looked good together and garnered lots of attention. Me with my stunning, golden good looks and her with her dark intensity and all of those lovely curves,” the Komodo said while smiling flirtatiously at Arkham. The laugh was out of his mouth and directed at the Australian before Continent even thought to leash 33

it. While it didn’t seem to faze the oversized lizard, it riled up Arkham, who turned and frowned up at him. “What?” Continent asked all innocently. It wasn’t his fault the lizard was stupid. “Why are you messing with Fletcher?” “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Continent said with a shrug. “So is Continent short for ‘incontinent’?” Okay, blindsided. “You of all people should refrain from picking on anyone’s name.” “Why, my name is freaking awesome…just like my glorious self.” “Ah, you Southerners…so good for amusement.” “Balere might be ten kinds of crazy, but she will never date you, so enjoy your wanking session tonight.” “Ah, you wound me.” “Well, if you insist,” Arkham began. “So, how long are you just going to stand over there and pretend that you don’t want me?” Arkham didn’t respond to his taunt right away. Instead, she blinked up at him for a few silent seconds. Continent couldn’t help but smile. He’d never met anyone so damn disagreeable since MountDenali. Being reminded of MountDenali and eyeing Arkham got him to thinking. His cousin deserved a female who’d shoot him down, call him all kinds of assholes, 34

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh and ignore his ass. My asshole cousin and Arkham sitting in a tree… He began singing the nursery school rhyme. Of course Arkham didn’t suspect what he was planning, and when she found out it was possible she might maim him, but it’d be so worth it. “You’re a wolf, aren’t you?” Continent was brought back to the present by MountDenali’s woman’s voice. He liked saying that, even if it was only in his head. This was going to be so good. “How—” he began to ask before Arkham cut him off. “Because you’re rocking an ‘about to eat you’ look.” “Well, the ladies do like when I—” he began only to be cut off by Balere. ** “Continent, stop flirting with my sister. She has cooties. Arkham, stop threatening Continent. He signs my paychecks.” “Yeah, but,” they both began. Balere simply waved them off. “All right, I’ve called the Granddaddies, who will be here in a few days. Word just came in that the ice roads are ready, 35

which means it’s time for Momma to go make some money. I’ve got a load I need hitched. Continent, congratulations. You get to try and keep Arkham under the radar of the law. Make sure she doesn’t leave anyone in a pool of their own blood or someone else’s blood or your own blood until your deposit for my services hits my account.” “How come I can’t go with you?” Arkham whined. “Because then the Granddaddies would have to find your body, and after the ass chewing they’re sure to be getting from Grandma, I don’t want to do that to them.” “Arkham, take the cat and snake. I’ll keep Fletcher for now.” “Why does Fletcher get to go?” “Because while animals seem to adore you, and you them, Fletcher has a humanoid form and yeah, you’re not so good with those. Exhibit A, your first name basis with the SWAT team, in five counties. Plus, you have to stay and babysit the rest of your zoo.” “I hate Continent. I don’t want to stay with him,” Arkham protested. “And if you try and make me, I promise, he’ll wake up in a bathtub full of ice.” “With you on top of me?” Continent flirted because that was what he did. Of course, that did 36

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh nothing but rile up Arkham. Moving to stand in front of Continent to save his life, Balere continued. “Continent, if you get stabbed, it’s your own fault. Arkham, I didn’t just meet you five seconds ago. I like Continent and as such wouldn’t dump a scourge on humanity on him and his lovely person.” “How lovely, Balere?” Continent purred in her ear. “I’m telling Jagen!” Arkham interrupted. “Is this Jagen the reason you ignore my attempts to make you mine, Balere?” Continent asked. “Yeah, and he’s way better than you!” Arkham spat. Balere sighed. She really needed to invest in a striped shirt and whistle whenever Arkham was in the presence of…anyone. “Um, no. The fact that you’re you makes me ignore your attempts, Continent. Now please, both of you, pay attention.” “MountDenali has a lovely cabin, and that’s where Arkham is staying until the Granddaddies come to fetch her.” “Did you ask, MountDenali?” Continent asked, not sounding the least bit concerned. “Nope, but I’ll let him know later on.” “He’s not going to like that.” Continent 37

practically smiled the words. “And this is my ‘don’t give a shit’ face. Arkham, get in the truck. I’ll drop you off.” “What if I hate MountDenali?” Arkham asked. “There is no ‘if.’ You will hate MountDenali,” both she and Continent promised. “Predator, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Now both of you get to stepping. I’ve got money to make.” ** While Balere’s little announcement was met with grumbles from Arkham and a grin from the lizard, Continent couldn’t stop the smirk on his face. Ah yes, his cousin was about to get it. It was going to be so good. The lovely Arkham was going to tear MountDenali a new asshole in no time flat.

38

MountDenali enjoyed every moment of his run, though he wasn’t sure what he enjoyed more: the absolute quiet or the absolute absence of everyone. Having had more coffee, a bowl of stew, and a nap, he decided to head on over to check out the roads himself. Getting comfortable in his spacious cab, he didn’t waste one moment feeling guilty about taking a day for himself. Yes, his underlings would be good and pissed, but being none of them could whip his ass, that was pretty much the end of that argument. Plugging in his MP3 player to listen to some jazz, he was reminded why he enjoyed driving. It was just him, his truck and the beautiful Arctic scenery. No people, no shifters, no noise. And then his phone rang. If it hadn’t been for the tune, he would’ve ignored it, but it was damn hard to ignore the voice of Darth Vader proclaiming his parental role, especially considering the individual who had put that on his phone: Balere Kennesaw. He couldn’t think of the feisty Georgian without almost smiling. Ms. Balere Kennesaw was some kind of woman, and when she was on the scene, everyone knew it. In 39

addition to being one of his best drivers, Balere was his favorite person (discounting himself, of course). Few people handled attitude so effortlessly. It was like she’d been groomed to handle ornery motherfuckers from birth. Most of all, it was her silence he appreciated. Balere didn’t bellow for anyone to do anything. Often, she silently told people to shut the fuck up. The few times she did speak, it was with a calmness that belied the things she promised she’d do if her wishes were not heeded. Originally, he’d been hesitant to have Balere iceroading for Mann Trucking. It wasn’t that he had anything against females trucking, as there were plenty of females on his staff (pun intended). All of the female drivers had at least a decade of experience, all but one were shifters, and as for the other one, he didn’t know what the fuck she was, nor was he trying to find out. Not only was Balere new to the ice roads, she was fully human—a damn good-looking human at that. Despite Balere’s lack of shifter genes, she’d sure enough sweet-talked him right out of any reservations he’d harbored. Of course, that might’ve had a lot to do with the ridiculous amounts of moonshine she’d steadily poured down his throat. Her aunt might’ve sold that hooch under the label Wake the Dead, but after rising from unconsciousness, MountDenali 40

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh thought it would’ve been more truthful to name it Hold onto the floor and see if you can find your spleen…and your esophagus…and your dignity. Ah, that was a good night of drinking—what he’d remembered of it. He’d woken on the floor of his den to the sight of Balere making herself at home. Sitting pretty on his custom leather sofa, stocking feet all propped up on the coffee table, Balere read the paper like she didn’t have a care in the world. The complete lack of give-a-damn-about-anything just made him appreciate her that much more. Briefly, he’d thought about flirting with her, but before he could work out if that would be a good idea or not, Balere had asked if he’d enjoyed his unconsciousness. “Maybe,” he’d hedged. She’d responded with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t have to be a shifter to realize the superior look she shot him…or the warning. A moment later, Balere waved her signed contract in his face, blew a kiss, and sashayed her fine ass out the door. Despite the brushoff, he routinely flirted with Balere. In turn, Balere routinely found new ways to laugh in his face without uttering a sound. He contented himself with the knowledge that if she hadn’t been in love with that lesser male, she’d be all over him. How could she not be? He was himself. 41

Sometimes he wished he was a female so he could have the chance to have himself as a lover. So wrapped up in his own awesomeness, he’d forgotten that he had a phone call until he heard his name being screamed. “Motherfucker!” Ah, he missed him some Balere. “Yes, my lovely Balere.” “Remember how I gave you the antidote to my Aunt Mel’s moonshine that time?” Any semblance of a smile that may have been on his face was quickly replaced with a look of horror. Deep in his gut, MountDenali knew that whatever Balere was about to say was not going to end well…for him. “Yes, Balere. I also remember spending the next week looking for my spleen.” “Whining doesn’t become you. Anyhoo, yeah, I’m cashing in on that.” “Oh, you finally admit that you want to warm my bed?” “You wish, asshole. I’m going to drop stuff off at your cabin. As much as you’ll be tempted to kill it— don’t. Just to avoid the temptation, maybe you should just spend the next week or two sleeping in your office. Okay, ’bye.” The “no, wait, stop, don’t” that had been on the tip of his tongue didn’t even get a chance to get out of 42

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh his mouth as he was so startled by the sound of a scuffle, the roar of some kind of big cat, and the hiss of some kind of reptile. The distinct sultry Southern ring of Balere threatening someone with death was the last thing he heard before getting an earful of dial tone. Damn, he hated that he was too far out to make it back and stop whatever chaos Balere was about to subject him to. Gritting his teeth, he dialed Continent’s direct extension. “Whatever Balere is about to do—stop her.” “And why would I do that, especially as I do enjoy Balere’s company, her aunt’s moonshine, and oh yeah, I also hate you?” “Because you don’t want me to kill you,” MountDenali supplied. All he got for his trouble was an earful of Continent’s laughter and a warning. “I hope you’re in good with the Creator because yeah, you’re going to need it.” ** Arkham couldn’t believe Balere had just dumped her in the middle of nowhere. Okay, so the cabin wasn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere. It was a short snowmobile (which Balere had given her keys to) ride to the company headquarters and the bar the locales frequented, but still. It was the principle of the thing. 43

Ah, well, it was small, but the cabin was laid out beautifully. Strolling around the cabin, she noted three things immediately: a—the smell of food; b—the location of the television; and, c—MountDenali Mann was an asshole…he had the belts to prove it. Mounted on the wall over the fireplace, they were right there along with his official placards. No wonder he and Balere got along so well, she thought as she turned and almost knocked over what she guessed was a true-to-size cardboard standout of himself. Really? Fucking really? she thought as she found herself getting pissed. How dare that motherfucker look good enough to eat? He was the wolf. If anyone was supposed to be eaten, it was her. Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Since it wasn’t her phone and she wasn’t the fucking secretary, she didn’t make a move to answer it. She continued on to the kitchen, where she checked out the food in the crockpot and his fridge. Big motherfucker that he was, his kitchen was stocked like he was going to feed a family of ten…three times a day, for the next six months. Grabbing a handful of cookies, she was set to bite into one when his voice came on the answering machine. If you’re interrupting my solitude by calling, somebody better be dying that I want to see dead…or I’m going to kill you myself. 44

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh If she didn’t get hot over the message, damn if she didn’t get hot over the voice that left it. Hot butter. That voice melted everything inside of her. Arkham wondered how that voice would sound panting out her name in the heat of passion. She didn’t discover that right then, but she did discover how her name would sound when spat with annoyance over a two-way radio. “Arkham Kennesaw, I know you’re in my house and I’m just letting you know not to mess with my stuff. Don’t get comfortable because as soon as I get back, you’re getting out.” Oh, no that motherfucker didn’t, she thought as she went all Olympic sprinter and snatched up the walkie-talkie thingy and went all Boondocks episode on him. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck you some more. And additionally, fuck your working voice box, fuck all of the people who didn’t bitch slap you to sleep, kick you awake, and leave your ass on the side of the road like the road kill you are—especially my sister Balere, who knows what kind of punk you are. Fuck your big motherfuckerishness, fuck your little trophies for being an asshole, fuck your little log cabin, fuck the spot where your log cabin is built, fuck the snow that surrounds it, fuck the cold, fuck your itty bitty television, fuck your big-ass ego, fuck your prissy little 45

interior decoration. If your name’s not Belva Kennesaw, which it ain’t, you don’t tell me what to do. Not only am I going to make myself right at home, I’m going to eat your food, wear your clothes, let my dog lie on your leather couch, use up all of your hot water, and sleep in your bed. If you’re not scared to drag your bitch ass here, make sure you shut the fuck up because I’ll be sleeping and if you wake me up, you’ll be getting a fist to the throat. And don’t call back here, motherfucker, interrupting my quiet time. Arkham, over and out.” ** When MountDenali woke up this morning, he expected the day to be like every other day. He’d check the ice roads to see if they were ready; check the drivers to see who was arriving and when; start some shit just because he could; and finish some shit because that was simply the type of badass motherfucker he was. What he didn’t expect was to meet the woman the Creator had made just for him. Though he hadn’t laid eyes on her, he knew without a doubt that Arkham Kennesaw was his. And if he doubted it, the cuss out she’d just given him proved it. He had no doubt that Arkham was not a woman others should cross. Good thing he wasn’t “others,” 46

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh because he definitely planned to cross her…and ride her all the way to glory. All. Night. Long. She might be crazy (as Kennesaws tended to be), but crazy was something he could handle. If her body was anything like her voice, his cousin wouldn’t see him all week because he’d be balls deep in that body. Arkham called to him on every level. His wolf had sat straight up the moment the first “fuck” had dropped from her lips. It was all he could do to tamp down his wolf, who wanted to emit a howl that was part thanks, part claim, and part warning. The beautiful, unorthodox, feisty woman on the other end of that radio was his. MountDenali didn’t even consider the idea that Arkham might not want him. That was just plain crazy talk. How could she not want him? Arkham Kennesaw was his mate…no matter what. “I’ll take your ‘fuck you; and raise you a fuck. You talk a big game, but when I get home, you’d better be packed and ready to go and if not, you’d better be in my bed ready to be rode hard.” “Well then I guess you’ll be bringing some dudes with you who can do it. Now get the fuck off this radio,” she snarled. ** 47

Like everyone else who worked with Mann Trucking, Balere was stunned stupid at what she’d just heard. If she hadn’t been behind the wheel of many tons of vehicle, she would’ve doubled over in laughter. She guessed that Arkham had been too mad to realize that she was on an open frequency and that truckers up and down the West Coast had heard her threats and MountDenali’s promises. Pulling over, she texted Arkham. You were on an open frequency. And that means what? I didn’t leave anyone in a pool of their own blood…yet. And I’m so proud of you for that. However, you did just challenge a wolf shifter in his prime. Oh, well. I guess I’ll have a wolf pelt to nail to the wall then. Don’t hurt him…too bad. No promises.

48

Arkham was mad at MountDenali, had been since the moment she laid eyes on the image of his fine, arrogant ass. How dare he look good in every fucking photo, of which he had a lot? How dare those emerald eyes bore into her like he was trying to discern every fantasy she had so he could fulfill it? How dare he be so much motherfucking man? Built like a mountain, she could practically feel the strength radiating from him. Arkham knew she couldn’t best him in a fight; further, she knew she’d never have to. That turned her on like nobody’s business. At six feet even and two hundred ten pounds, she was a whole lot of woman, and she wanted and needed a man who could handle that without being a bully and without wanting her to dominate him. MountDenali more than looked capable of the job. Of course, Arkham wasn’t about to admit that she wanted him. No way, no how, no way some more. Making herself at home in the spacious cabin, she immediately immersed herself in busy work in an effort to keep from revving up that snowmobile, riding into town and demanding to know the whereabouts of MountDenali. Yeah, she had to put the brakes on her 49

fantasies, because if that motherfucker looked a tenth as good as his cardboard cutout, she’d demand he put his tongue to good use…on her body. She’d washed and dried her animals and used all of MountDenali’s towels and a goodly amount of electricity in the process of blow-drying their pelts. All except for Fluffy, who was gently wiped down with a damp warm towel before she wrapped the animal in a pair of MountDenali’s flannel pajama bottoms. Arkham didn’t feel the least bit guilty about it considering the pj’s had still been encased in plastic, meaning he probably didn’t wear them…which got her to thinking about him all naked and wet…which led her to find some more busy work. All of her busy work concluded, her animals settled, Arkham raided his fridge again for vittles before seeing to herself. She began with her face, waxing her eyebrows into submission until she had the “surprise” look down. Since she already had the wax heated, it was a no-brainer to do everything and then tend the lawn. Of course, since she’d done her brows, a facial was in order. She told herself the extra care was needed due to the long hours spent traveling and tending. Sure, washing your face was in order, as was a good scrubbing, but was a full-on facial necessary? her body mocked. 50

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh Yes, because the cold weather has wreaked havoc with my skin and it only takes a few minutes to exfoliate, steam and apply a clay mask. Okay, we’ll buy that, but was the full body wax necessary? It wasn’t necessary; I simply wanted to get it out of the way because I don’t know what my schedule will be like in a few weeks. Hmm-mmm. So why the scented, skinsoftening oil? Because I want to, so shut up and mind your own business, dammit. And sloughing your skin with the sea salt scrub in your favorite scent? her body asked all smartass. Ignoring it, Arkham stood under the massaging jets of MountDenali’s steam shower before taking an inordinate amount of time rubbing cocoa-scented butter into her skin. Slipping into a pair of black, lacy boy shorts, she made her way to the plush leather sofa. Since she was already sitting there doing nothing in particular, it was nothing to see to her nails. Of course, she did all of this simply because she wanted to, and not because she was trying to impress MountDenali Mann. Why, after all, would she want to impress him? Just because he was everything and more that she’d dreamed of didn’t mean a thing. Nothing at all. 51

Pissed with herself for caring, she went to bed…in his bed…because she could.

52

The time couldn’t pass fast enough for MountDenali. Never had time crawled so slowly, nor had the miles seemed so long, and never had he pushed his truck so hard. Still, it’d taken most of the day and a good chunk of the night to get back home. It wasn’t his home he’d wanted to get back to so bad; it was the female occupying his home. Dragging in well after seven p.m., he was met by a note on his door: QUIET! Animals sleeping. Like he gave a shit. Making as much noise as humanly and wolfly possible, he let himself in and discovered several things—mainly, how hot Hell was, being the heat was set to “sweltering” and his fire was stoked up to “inferno.” He would’ve said something, but he was met by the annoyed glares of an angst-ridden cat and henchman of a dog, which were lazing about in front of his fireplace. He didn’t speak dog or puma, but he was pretty sure he’d just been told to “fuck off” in both languages. Being the more advanced species, he snarled a “fuck you” in wolf to them both, before turning down the heat and tamping back the fire, which apparently was the wrong thing to do judging by the sudden rise of the previously semi-comatose cobra, which came out of its makeshift hoodie to hiss 53

its displeasure. “Try it and you’ll be mounted over the fireplace by morning,” he growled too low for any ears but animal. He was about to threaten more, but his nose was filled with the most delicious scent: his mate. Her eyes sparkled like black diamonds and her mouth, oh the things he could do with that mouth. Oh, the things that mouth could do to him. Thank you, Creator. So involved with his visual gorge fest, he almost missed her question. “Do you have a problem reading, seeing, or hearing?” Arkham asked with all kinds of tone as she stepped into his line of sight. Perhaps if a bra had been part of her outfit, he might’ve paid more attention to the warning in her voice, but he doubted it, as Arkham simply had the kind of breasts that didn’t need an excuse to be looked at. As it was, all he could think about was backing Arkham against the wall and mapping the terrain of her body…with his tongue. “Hey, my eyes are up here,” Arkham said all agitated like as she stood, which showed off the curve of her holding-onto-while-loving-hard hips. “I’ll get to those presently,” he promised while lingering on her chest. “You’re an asshole—” 54

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh “Yep,” he said without argument, because indeed he was. “And you’re out of milk—” “There was a whole gallon in the fridge,” he interrupted without taking his eyes off of those glorious breasts, which jiggled in time to her accusations. “It was needed for my animal hot toddy concoction. You’re also out of hot water, clean towels and—” “The hell?” he asked, finally making his way up to her eyes, which were lit up like the Aurora Borealis. “Is where I’m about to send you if you keep staring at my bits.” “Stop displaying your ‘bits’ so beautifully,” he countered. “Want to tell me why you didn’t heed my words?” “Because you’re not my grandmomma, which I told you before. I was just being neighborly and giving you a heads up, but I see manners, like reading, was wasted on you.” “I don’t know how I’m out of everything when I’ve been gone less than a day.” “You probably don’t understand a lot of things, like the fact that two plus two is four.” “I understand everything that’s important, Arkham, like the fact that you aren’t packed and ready 55

to go.” “Nope, because I’m not going anywhere. And like I said, I dibsed the bed.” Ah, his female was so damn feisty—just like he preferred. He wondered if she preferred her sex hot and dirty or wet and hot. “You’re free to dibs the bed, darlin’, as long as you know that by extension you dibs the male who owns it.” And with that statement, he made himself at home in Arkham’s personal space. Just as he suspected, Arkham didn’t back up an inch. Instead, she got closer. Oh, yesssss. “So,” Arkham began in a voice that seemed to have dropped an octave. “That means I get to do whatever I want with you?” Overcome with an urge to take her hard and fast, he grunted out a reply. “Damn right.” Arkham’s full lips pulled back in a smile just as her fist connected with his throat. “Good. Since I already took your breath and most of your dignity, maybe I’ll take your organs next and give them to somebody who knows how to fucking act,” she said a moment before sashaying her fine ass away from him and flopping onto the couch. Whatever he was about to say was drowned out by the unmistakable sounds of a dog, puma and cobra laughing their motherfucking asses off. Thinking that 56

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh he could make outerwear out of all of them later, after Arkham lay in a love-induced coma, he rambled off to the shower. He wasn’t dirty, but he wanted to be spanking clean when he loved her…and spanked her for being so mouthy to him…and loved her some more because damn if it didn’t turn him on. The shower was ice cold, as there wasn’t even the semblance of hot water, just as his mate had promised. Good thing he was a wolf, especially as he’d had to dry off with a shirt since Arkham had used everything with terrycloth to bathe the traveling zoo, which collectively smelled like the inside of a shampoo bottle. Instead of focusing his energies on the critters, he considered all the ways to get Ms. Arkham all good and worked up. If Arkham wanted to use up all of his towels, fine. He’d simply walk around his cabin nude while he put in a load of laundry. Arkham’s gasp was music to his ears and a boost to his ego. Putting on all of the “hey, look at me” he could, he strutted to the kitchen and made a sandwich that the character Dagwood would’ve envied to go with the rest of the stew. Not one to normally eat a big meal before bed, MountDenali figured he’d need strength for all of the lovin’ he was going to give Arkham. After all, it was more than clear that she wanted him, despite the insults she mumbled under her breath and the teeth 57

sucking. “I’m off to bed,” she spat before tromping off to his bedroom. MountDenali didn’t say anything, he simply smiled to himself. Knowing that he was going to have all day to get to know Arkham, he went about assembling the stuff for another stew before throwing it into a clean crockpot. Having already showed off his awesome body, he wanted to show off more of his cooking skills. He might never have a show, but when Arkham was savoring his food and homemade breads, she wouldn’t be thinking about anything else except how to get more of everything he had—in the kitchen and the bedroom. The cooking seen to, MountDenali tossed the towels in the dryer, brushed his teeth and made his way to the master bedroom…and was assailed with the scent of Arkham’s arousal. Just as he’d thought, Arkham wasn’t asleep— though even if she had been, he would’ve woken her up with his tongue in her sex. “Are you going to put some clothes on?” Settling himself under the sheets, he spoke. “Hadn’t thought about it. Are you going to slide over here and snuggle up to me or continue to hug the side of the bed?” “Hmm, let me think. Snuggle up to your 58

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh arrogant, naked behind or the edge of the bed. I’m taking the edge of the bed, thank you very much.” “It’s okay, just don’t be surprised when you wake up in my arms. If it’ll make you feel better, you can always blame your body’s desire to be snuggled up to me on sleep.” “Could you be any more arrogant?” “Yes,” he said as he scooted over and draped himself around her lush form. “This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg,” he whispered directly in Arkham’s ear. “I would say that I’ve never met anyone more arrogant, but I’m a Kennesaw Jones. But at least the men in my family have a reason to be arrogant. You, not so much.” Arkham spat the words, but she didn’t shrug him off. “I have many reasons to be arrogant, Arkham,” he said as he cupped a breast. “First and foremost, I am a Mann. Second, I have you in my arms,” he said as he gently bit down on her lobe. “Hey, watch your hands…and teeth…and that thing,” she warned even as she snuggled closer. “I can’t wait to watch my hands, Arkham, as they’re mapping your body. Watching the bronze on the dark chocolate of your skin will no doubt be a visual feast. I can’t wait to watch my teeth…as they mark you as mine.” Pulling Arkham impossibly closer, 59

MountDenali rubbed his cock against her. “I can’t wait to watch my cock disappear into your heat.” “Just like most males, you’ll fuck anything.” Threading his hands with Arkham’s, MountDenali took a moment to enjoy the contrasting textures before responding. “I’m nothing like most males. And you, my voluptuous, feisty Arkham, are definitely not ‘anything.’ You are my female. I most definitely will fuck you, but only after making slow, sweet love to you. Being benevolent and all that, I won’t even make you beg.” Arkham would’ve slapped him if he wasn’t holding her so close. That didn’t stop her from calling him names, though. Instead of being insulted by her response, he was turned on. Since he’d already stoked Arkham’s anger, he piled on. In for a penny and all that. “I can’t wait to see how you mark up my body with your teeth and nails,” he said as he nipped the back of her neck. “I really can’t wait to see what you use that tempting mouth for besides telling me off.” “Let me go and I’ll show you,” she gritted out. Using his wolf speed, he extended a claw and ripped her shirt evenly down the middle, exposing her back before recapturing her hand. “I’m never letting you go, Arkham,” he said a moment before tasting her smooth, chocolate skin. 60

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh “Hey, I was wearing that!” Arkham protested. “And now you’re wearing me,” he rasped a moment before trailing his tongue down her spine. Arkham’s protest was lost in her gasp. Grasping his hands tighter, she pushed her ass against him and bowed her back, giving him greater access to all of her lovely curves. Damn, Arkham smelled and tasted good…and she was giving him the “all go.” Being a Mann, he could do nothing less than comply. ** Damn, MountDenali was an asshole. Arkham had kept saying that to herself all the way until she heard his noisy entrance. How dare he pull her out of her fantasy? She meant, how dare he ignore the posted sign and come in making all kinds of noise? The only noise he should be making was the sound of her name when he released. Asshole. While she might be closemouthed about him screaming out her name, she sure as shit wasn’t about to be quiet about him being an asshole…especially when the scent of him had her nipples standing at attention and her pussy thumping out a beat that sounded like the entire percussion section at the philharmonic. Asshole. Did she mention that? 61

After getting MountDenali good and told, which was more like letting him know what she’d done and seeing what he was going to do about it, which apparently was stand there and look fine as hell all hot and naked, Arkham flounced off to bed, ignoring the fact that it was in his room. Yeah, she could’ve done the polite thing and made herself at home on his sumptuous, oversized couch, but she’d never been polite in her life, so there was no reason to start now. Plus, she’d been exceptionally polite when she hadn’t thrown him to the floor and ridden his face to glory. How could one man possess so much fine? Damn if he wasn’t even finer than his cardboard cutout. How was that possible? Despite his fineness and all that, MountDenali deserved to have his shit commandeered since he’d had the gall to stroll out naked and unconcerned that she was eyeing his bits like she’d just discovered light. Whatever she did was his fault, since he’d just given her a year’s worth of masturbation material. And she was most definitely going to masturbate to images of MountDenali. She had to…it was against the law not to when you had such beautiful inspiration and the perfect background with a roaring fire in the fireplace, a big-assed bed and the scent of your fantasy come to life. Arkham didn’t waste any time, instead settling 62

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh herself on MountDenali’s bed. That unmade bed had that “come test me out” look about it. While the bed looked enticing, what she most wanted to test out was the man who lay in it each night. Wrapping herself in the sheets, she got a big old whiff of hot-to-death man, and her pussy went from calm to chaotic like it was trying to break a land speed record. She wondered how long it’d take that fine motherfucker to come claim his bed. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d come to claim it, because nothing about MountDenali said “pushover.” Hopefully, she’d be able to stop herself from masturbating until he got around to joining her. It seemed not even ten seconds went by before she got her wish. Sliding into bed, MountDenali didn’t even pretend like he wasn’t going to have her…and she liked that. Ignoring the fact that he possessed shifter senses, and thus could smell her desire, Arkham acted all casual. Until he touched her…and he touched her so damn good, so damn right, so damn just like she wanted and needed. MountDenali was the perfect mix of asshole, arrogant bastard and fine motherfucker. The wolf shifter gave as good as he got, and she’d been giving it to him since the moment they met. She gave him no quarter, and MountDenali simply proved that he didn’t need any. Instead, he took all the Southern she 63

dished out and silently challenged her to give him more. “Is that all you possess?” Those deep emerald eyes mocked even as MountDenali countered the direct hits of diva with a dose of som’bitch…and dammit if it didn’t make her want him that much more. Asshole. No clothes, big-dicked, muscles-like-granite, tanned-even-in-the-dead-of-winter-who-made-herpussy-gush asshole who slid all up on her and talked shit directly in her ear. The sound of that deep voice in her ear, the feel of those full lips on her skin, the mix of pleasure-pain as he cupped her breast and nipped her with those sharp, sharp canines pushed her to the edge. It took everything she had not to moan out her pleasure and fix her mouth to beg MountDenali to ride her like gator hunters rode swamp boats. While her mouth may have contained her moans, her traitorous body mutinied and snuggled closer. Look, bitch, you’re the one with issues…stop fucking up our shit. Fuck you, get closer, she demanded. To say that she put up a token protest would necessitate an apology to tokens everywhere, because the truth was MountDenali had her the moment she heard his voice. Claiming her with his body and his 64

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh words was just the period at the end of the sentence. Arkham was a sucker for moxie…and a man who knew how to use it. And damn, if MountDenali didn’t know how to use it. About to tell him off good and proper, she was halted by the sound of ripping fabric and the feel of his tongue on her spine. She didn’t say a word…couldn’t say a word, but her body went all Keith Sweat and begged for everything he could do to her. In return, MountDenali went all pizza restaurant…and delivered.

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MountDenali couldn’t keep his eyes off of Arkham, despite the fact that it was barely five a.m. His mate looked absolutely ravished, and she’d never looked so beautiful…except for the first time he met her…and the first time he made love to her…and five seconds ago…and right this instant. Now that she was wearing his shirt, his mark, and his scent, every motherfucker around would know that Arkham Kennesaw was exclusively his. Over the course of the last two days, MountDenali had discovered a lot about himself. First and foremost, he was quickly developing an Arkham addiction. Okay, he was already addicted, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that. Of course, he wouldn’t have to admit it because she’d probably be too busy demanding her pleasure. Though he’d had Arkham multiple times, in multiple ways, it didn’t come close to satisfying his craving for her. Instead of being frightened at that prospect, all he could do was grin while imagining a lifetime of pleasing his mate. His mate. He’d also learned a lot about Arkham during that time. Chiefly, that Arkham was in no way, fashion or form a morning person. Wishing her a good 66

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh morning had gotten him a look that promised all manner of retribution, the middle finger, and a hearty “fuck you.” Second, none of that bothered him. He simply swallowed the rest of Arkham’s telling off, slid two fingers into her and sucked a nipple into his mouth. When she came screaming, he ate her honey off of his fingers. “Now, I will fuck you,” he promised as he pulled her atop his person. ** Arkham couldn’t remember a better two days. MountDenali had turned out to be everything she needed not just in fantasy, but also in reality. The shifter cooked a mean pot of chili, he kept the fire roaring despite the fact that a light sheen of sweat covered his skin, he brought it like nobody’s business, and he could hold his own in Scrabble. Oh, she still whipped his ass, but it wasn’t by triple digits. More than that, MountDenali looked at her like she was the only woman in all of the world. Arkham simply didn’t have any words to describe how that made her feel, so she let her body do the talking instead. They made entire operas together with their bodies. The earth moved, thunder rolled, and lightning struck. MountDenali was the kind of man who made it 67

easy to give him everything. Never had she let go with a lover like she had with him. Then again, never had a man earned all of her. Unlike others, MountDenali wouldn’t settle for some of her; he demanded everything. And she gave it without reservation…and it scared her shitless. The wolf shifter was simply too damn fine, too damn arrogant, and too damn everything for his own good…and hers. Plus, he was an asshole of the highest proportions. There could only be one asshole in any relationship, and she’d dibsed that. All her life, she’d been the asshole Kennesaw chick. Her sister Shazam! had even made a webpage chronicling her exploits. The cherry on top was the asshole status bar that alerted others to her mood. That’d kept many a man away, but just as that fine-ass MountDenali had said, he wasn’t “any” man. He was a Mann. And damn if he hadn’t proven it many times over. Bastard. But damn, if she didn’t want him. After she came to that conclusion, what did he go off and do? Fucked it up. That bastard fucked her into a stupor, showered, dressed and rolled off to work whistling a ditty. What the fuck?! ** Lest he keep Arkham in his bed for the rest of 68

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh the winter, MountDenali forced himself to go to work. Anyplace where he wasn’t touching some part of Arkham’s body was a place he didn’t want to be. And judging from the looks that everyone gave him, they didn’t want him to be there. Accused of being more assholish than usual, he finally dragged his ass home to his beautiful mate who’d had all day to miss him…with a sharp object, a “fuck you” or a “come hither.” He got all hard wondering which it’d be. If he was lucky, it’d be all three. He got none of those. After coming in from a damn hard day at the office—most of it spent with a hard dick—he got an undiluted dose of ignore. Arkham didn’t acknowledge him when he entered, nor did she even blink when he stripped down to his skin. Nope, she simply kept on pecking away at her laptop, looking for all the world like an evil genius bent on world domination. And damn if that didn’t send his need off the charts. If he was a normal wolf, he might’ve taken a hint and stayed clear, but he wasn’t a normal wolf, and Arkham wasn’t some random female. She was his and he was determined to remind her of that, despite her valiant effort to pretend he didn’t exist. It was futile for her to pretend indifference when her body practically shouted her need. Still, he’d allow her to ignore him…up to a point. Okay, dammit, he 69

wasn’t about to allow that shit at all. Arkham was his mate and it was her duty to want him, to think he walked on water and all that. She wasn’t supposed to even pretend not to want him. It took everything MountDenali had not to bend Arkham over the couch and fuck her into submission. Instead of pouncing on her and making her admit that she wanted him, he sat back and adopted his most arrogant pose, knowing it would drive her crazy. A crazy Arkham was a dangerous Arkham…and he found that he preferred his sexy mate with a hint of danger, as danger never tasted so good. MountDenali didn’t even have to look at Arkham to know she was on the edge of doing something crazy. The last twenty-four hours was plenty of time to learn Arkham’s moods: hungry for him, hungry for food, and hungry to whip somebody’s ass. Right now she was two of the three and since he’d just fed her, he knew it was about to be on. He could feel it in her. All he had to do was wait. Clearing his throat, he held back a smirk. “May I help you?” Arkham asked all haughty. Oh, yes, my beautiful mate, you can. Instead of responding, he slowly undressed Arkham with his eyes. The scent of her desire immediately filled his nostrils, as did the scent of her fury. Both his wolf and his cock sprang to attention. Arkham, they both 70

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh demanded. Soon, he promised. ** Arkham meant to ignore MountDenali. That is, after she got him as worked up as she was. When those emerald green eyes weren’t trained on her, he was busy tempting her with that glorious body of his. She almost moaned thinking back on that slow striptease he’d performed before strolling his fine ass to the bath. How she’d wanted to be that water…and anything else that touched his skin. Of course, when he’d crawled his ass into bed, she’d spent all night touching that skin. How dare he waltz off to work like he wasn’t as addicted to her as she was to him? How dare he leave her body a quivering mass of desire? How dare he be able to do more than roll away from the wet spot after the way he’d put it on her…over and over and over. Damn him and his talented tongue, fingers, and cock. Damn him and his mouthwatering stew, and melt-in-your mouth bread. Damn him and his big, ripped body. All damned out, Arkham consoled herself with her decision to ignore him. Yeah, that was what she’d do. The last thirty-six hours was a fluke. No man could be that perfect—except for her 71

granddaddies—but they couldn’t help but be perfect because her grandmomma was so bad fucking ass. Decision made, she was all set to ignore him until he cleared his throat and fucked her with those hypnotic eyes. Immediately, she was wet, needy, throbbing. Perhaps she wouldn’t have fought it if MountDenali had looked even a smidgen ruffled. Instead, he looked all cool, calm, and collected. Fine, she’d ignore him and go have a marathon masturbation session. Smiling, she sashayed past him, putting a little extra oomph in her hips just for good measure…and found herself up against the wall, in a standing split with a pussy full of Mann and an ear full of growls. “I’ve been waiting for you to test me for the past hour, love. Every time you tempt me, Arkham, I hope you can get wet in a hurry because I’ll be having you,” he said as he pulled her close and thrust into her once more. “And if I don’t want you?” she panted even as she dug her fingers deeper into his massive shoulders. “There will never be a time when you don’t want me, Arkham. Never. There will never even be a time where you can pretend that you don’t want me,” he rasped as he jerked her closer to him. “Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded as he surged into her. “Please,” Arkham moaned as she licked his 72

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh nipple. “Please,” she begged as she licked the other. “Please,” she commanded as she bit him. “Yesssssssssssssss!” MountDenali rasped as he slammed into her with dizzying speed and roared out his release. Reaching between them, he stroked her, pushing her into another orgasm. “Yesssssssssssssssss,” she moaned. MountDenali responded with a smirk that she wanted to smack off his fine face, and she would’ve if she hadn’t been busy sopping up the last vestiges of pleasure. “Mine,” he said with finality as he bit her. “You could ask,” she sighed even as she sagged into him. “I don’t need to. It’s an undisputed fact. You are mine, Arkham.” “Whatever, asshole.” “You going to work tomorrow?” “Yes, but I’m going to fuck you raw before I go…and when I come back.”

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Arkham had started her day as she normally did. That is, she walked her baby Predator, sang him and his new friends a couple of songs, and text message battled her twin. Her work had taken her all of twenty minutes, which left twenty-three hours and forty minutes of free time. Now, she was horny, bored, and past due for some serious spoiling, which was most likely going to be tabled because Balere was a tattletale. If her sister had been present, they’d be brawling all over the cabin, not because Balere was a snitch but because that wench had dumped her on the finest mofo she’d ever laid eyes on. Sure, she’d seen a Mann wolf before, but she’d never seen MountDenali Mann. A massive amount of man, he had swagger—and if anyone should have it, MountDenali sure enough should have. Full of “don’t give a damn,” he entered a space and took it over with his presence. Steeped in the arrogance of a man who knew no one could take him—in anything— he did as he pleased…and people let him. Her pussy had flared to life the moment she set eyes on MountDenali, and that was saying something considering how damn fine Continent Mann and Fletcher (in human form) were. But neither Continent 74

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh nor Fletcher was MountDenali Mann, and her body knew it. So did her sister, who’d taunted her by text. Balere and Fletcher had put money on how soon she’d cave to MountDenali’s charms. Continent and everyone else had put money on how soon MountDenali would cave to hers. Later, Arkham would pay them all back, but right now she had to take her vitamins because yeah, MountDenali was that damn good. She really was going to stay away from the shifter, after she left him in a pile of ass-whipping, but MountDenali was fucking relentless. And once again, he was gone, driving his little truck off somewhere far away in the snow. With the cabin smelling like him, another stew, and all of the hot loving they’d made, it was a good place to wait for her man, but dammit, she wasn’t the waiting type of woman. Especially when said man told her to “stay here and wait.” Fuck that. Bundling up her animals and stashing Fluffy in her knapsack, she cranked the snowmobile and headed the five miles into town. ** Colder than a Well Digger’s Ass had seen a lot of shit in its day and time. It’d seen several owners, a whole lot of brawls, an unchartered amount of crazy, 75

and even its fair share of wet t-shirt contests. Still, nothing compared to what the patrons were treated to that afternoon. When six feet and two hundred pounds of woman strolled through its doors, everything came to a standstill. No one was sure what was more impressive about the woman: the fact that the t-shirt she wore over her hoody declared her a member of SWAF—Southern Women Against Fisting, the barrage of animals she brought in with her, or the fact that her look said she clearly wasn’t impressed. Hell, neither were they, but despite everything Colder than a Well Digger’s Ass wasn’t, the bottom line was that Renig Frost possessed the only liquor license in a fifty-mile square radius. It didn’t matter if Renig served weak coffee, stale pretzels and sloppy plates of bad food. Neither did it matter that he hated everyone, especially the law, and anyone with an opinion—especially if they also happened to have a vagina. Nobody came for the food. The coffee was hot, the beer was cold, the liquor was top notch, and the place was heated and reasonably clean. Truckers couldn’t ask for much more. Well they could, but waiting around for it from Renig was a colossal waste of time. The problem was that no one clued her in on Renig’s idiosyncrasies. Of course, the longer the patrons were around her, the more they all realized 76

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh Arkham Kennesaw wasn’t the type of woman to give a shit. But, well, she could give a good comeback. ** Renig saw the woman before she saw him. It was hard not to see her, being she was right colorful with her neon orange that covered her dog, her whatever the fuck else was with her and herself. Great, just what he needed, one of them “freethinking” liberal whack jobs. He was going to give her what she wanted, maybe some of what she needed, and send her right on her way. He ran a tight ship, and it was going to stay that way. “What do you want?” he boomed, making sure to put all of the bass he could up in his voice. “For you to have some manners, but barring that I’ll take a cup of coffee, black,” she said all bossy like. “I’ve been on this earth thirty-nine years, and ain’t nobody ever taken nothing from me.” “Well, congratulations to you. Now if you’d like to reach a fortieth year on this earth, get my coffee and hold the attitude.” Not about to turn down a dollar regardless of who was handing it to him, Renig mumbled something under his breath, shot her a mean look and went about getting her coffee. 77

Slamming it on the counter, Renig damn near shouted, “That’ll be three fifty—cash only.” “Are you seriously trying to serve me that?” she asked in an unmistakable Southern accent. “I can serve you something else, but I don’t think you can handle it,” he leered. “Now take it or leave it, girlie,” he said, which in itself was actually polite for him. “How about I leave it,” she said a moment before she grabbed hold of Renig’s hair, slammed his face into the bar—repeatedly—and tossed the lukewarm, pitiful excuse for coffee in his face. “I want a clean cup, some decent coffee, and if you ever in your life disrespect me again, you will need a doctor. Are we clear, or do I need to say it in Neanderthal or Cro-Magnon?” she asked the barkeep despite the fact he was in no condition to respond. “I asked you a question,” she said as she shook him. “Um, ma’am. I think he’s unconscious,” Renig’s young nephew said. “Oh, my bad. I guess that’s why he didn’t respond,” she said while mushing him to the floor. “Let me help him into consciousness.” And with that, she bitch-slapped Renig to full alertness. “Coffee, black. Clean cup. Table closest by the fire, and I’m not paying shit for it if it doesn’t meet my 78

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh expectations. And turn up the heat.” “And if I don’t?” A moment later Renig had three sets of dangerous teeth bared at him. “That answer your question?” she asked. “Predator, make sure he doesn’t spit in my drink. “Come,” she ordered the rest of her troupe. ** Sendoa Ryan and Yukon Mann were assholes, and they freely admitted it. They were also uncles, and while they enjoyed spoiling their nieces, watching Lightning bust Sebastian’s chops, and the relatively mild weather in the mountains of North Carolina, once Continent had called them and filled them in on the lowdown about MountDenali, they’d hightailed it home. Sitting at a corner table, they knew luck was on their side when the woman who was the catalyst for their return home trek strolled in. True, they could’ve gone to MountDenali’s house and introduced themselves, but that was out. They might be assholes, but they weren’t assholes with a death wish. One did not go see a man’s mate when he was not there to chaperone, especially when they were newly mated. And newly mated they were, whether that little lady 79

knew it or not. Not that calling six feet, two hundred plus pounds of woman “little” was exactly true. She was fantastic, the perfect lady to take their asshole cousin-friend down. “She’s awesome,” Yukon murmured around the swill that masqueraded as coffee. “Is that a snake in a blanket?” Sendoa asked, ignoring Yukon’s announcement. Yukon looked over, and sure enough there was a king cobra snuggled up all close to her. “Yep.” “That’s a damn big housecat,” Sendoa said looking at the feline stretching out close to Arkham. “Dude, that’s a puma,” Yukon sighed. “Like a real one?” Yukon’s eyebrows rose. “Is there a big problem with counterfeit pumas?” “I hate you, and my twin is better than yours.” “In your dreams. Now keep your eyes peeled for anything while I finish looking up details on my new sister-in-law.” “Our sister-in-law,” Sendoa said. “You’re not family, asshole.” Yukon frowned. “Lightning said.” Sendoa smirked. “I see why Sebastian hates you.” “Shut up, Yukon, and just tell me the chances our new sister-in-law will leave someone in a pool of 80

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh their own blood.” ** Not impressed by much, both Sendoa and Ryan had to admit that Arkham Kennesaw impressed the shit out of them. If Renig had bothered to do an Internet search, he would’ve still had some of his dignity left. Thank the Creator for little sisters. They had entertained themselves for hours with that website. Arkham Kennesaw, badass paleontologist, was a highly educated woman. She had a BS in both Biology and Geology from Georgia State, a BS in Archaelogy from Emory, a MS in Paleontology and Geology and a Ph.D. in Geological Engineering from South Dakota School of Mines and Technology. Hot damn. MountDenali had gone and got him a woman with a mind to go along with those curves. He was in for it now. But knowing Arkham was a doctor wouldn’t have helped Renig. What would’ve helped him was clicking on the link that said “Pool of Blood.” That page was longer than the info on the link that said “Education.” The emergency room had to fucking love Arkham, because she sent a lot of business their way. While a whole lot of hot damns had passed their lips, a 81

few incidents stood out, most notably the Great Spork Incident in middle school, which left a trio of boys the proud recipients of over seventy stitches and was the catalyst for Arkham being banned from possessing any other manner of plastic cutlery—ever. The Loofah Debacle, which happened just before she went on vacation to one of those countries that didn’t extradite. The Bag of Cottonballs Mayhem, which left a frat boy unconscious. And their personal favorite, the Palm Leaves Brouhaha, in which she’d gone all ninja on someone and cut him up with the leaves. Yeah, Renig could’ve saved himself some pain had he just read before he spoke. If he’d done that, he would’ve peeped the asshole-ometer, which allowed readers to track the level of asshole Arkham was at on any given day. There had never been a time when it dipped below “complete fucking asshole,” although on most days it was set at “asshole of unbelievable fucking proportions.” They bet Renig would testify to that…well, when he stopped limping and shit. Meanwhile, they’d decided to go and make Ms. Arkham’s acquaintance.

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After Arkham and Renig had their little “talk,” they didn’t have any more issues. Her cup was clean, her coffee was rich, and he’d even brought over a bowl of hot milk, which she’d doctored up, for her pets. While Predator and the puma made themselves comfortable on either side of her, Fluffy took up residence in her lap, lulled to sleep by the click of her knitting needles. “Who’s getting a new snake hoodie?” she asked him. Of course, he didn’t answer, just kind of shimmied in his blanky and sighed. Who knew a snake could sigh? “You are entirely too much woman for my idiot brother,” a deep voice cut into her little talk with Fluffy. Arkham looked up into the eyes of a man who looked just like MountDenali. How the fuck was that fair that these Mann boys were allowed to roam the country free, looking all manner of fine? “She’s entirely too much woman for any of the men in your family,” the fine big motherfucker beside him said. What the hell were they feeding these boys? Arkham didn’t even take offense because from the admiration in their eyes, she knew none was 83

meant. “Thank you, both.” “Thank you, Ms. Kennesaw. By the way, I’m Sendoa Ryan, and the MountDenali doppelganger is his useless brother, Yukon.” Arkham couldn’t help but smile at the two. She could already tell that they were pieces of work. “Join me?” “Absolutely. Any woman who beats the shit out of Renig is a woman we want to buy a drink.” Raising his voice, Sendoa addressed the room at large. “I can’t believe none of these bitches in here thought to do that.” “It’s okay. Making friends isn’t actually my specialty,” she offered. “We read,” Yukon said all admiringly. “Ah, the website.” “Yes, ’tis a thing of beauty. Brought a tear to my eye, it did. You’re welcome to share a table with us anytime,” Yukon said. “Now since you smell like MountDenali and are therefore off limits, tell me there are more females like you back home,” Sendoa said. “Of course. We Kennesaws only make women one way: bad fucking ass.” “And I think that’s the only way women should be made,” Sendoa said. 84

“Guess who we’re sharing a drink with?” Yukon spoke to his brother through their link. “Guess who won’t have any hands if they go anywhere near my mate?” MountDenali raged. “Everyone, because Arkham Kennesaw, Ph.D. is one hella good-looking woman.” His brother’s responding growl only made him laugh. “I told Arkham to stay home.” “Amusing, you are, dear Brother. Did you just meet that woman?” “And where is she?” “The diner.” “Renig?” his brother asked with concern. “Had his ass handed to him less than two minutes after she walked in. He’s nursing his wounded pride…and face…and ribs…and spleen…and some other stuff. Arkham’s actually drinking out of a clean cup.” “I hate all of you. Keep everyone away from her.” “Not a problem. Everyone is scared of her, especially after they saw the website.” “She has a website?” “Yes, I imagine you were too busy getting into 85

other things to worry about anything else.” “Indeed.” “Should we keep her here until you arrive?” “Yes. I’ll be there soon.” ** MountDenali turned his truck around and headed to the diner. He and Arkham were going to have a serious talk about her not being spread-eagled on the bed when he got home. Slamming through the entrance of the diner, he came to a skidding stop and stared. Truckers he’d known since his early twenties, mean, impatient, hardened men, were doing things he’d never expected...ever. They had shut the fuck up…and were listening as Arkham regaled them with tales as she knitted. If the sight and scent of Arkham hadn’t called out so strongly to his wolf, MountDenali would’ve wondered if he’d walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Frankly, he was disturbed by everything, but the most disturbing thing of all was the fact that they were all surrounding his woman, holding onto each word she spoke with awe. Even Renig was listening to Arkham. MountDenali knew that these men couldn’t help themselves. Arkham Kennesaw was fascinating. While she was certainly educated, Arkham wasn’t just book 86

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh smart—she was knowledgeable about so many things. However, Arkham Kennesaw was his. MountDenali motioned for a cup of coffee in order to have something to do with his mouth lest he use it right this instant on her. Once he got his lips on Arkham, it was just a matter of time before his voluptuous mate had a pussy full of him. While he knew Arkham wanted him just as bad, he doubted his female would appreciate being mated in the center of the diner, despite him being all awesome and whatnot. ** Arkham knew the moment that fine motherfucker stepped into the diner because her whole body went haywire. It was all she could do to stop from swiping everything from the table and tossing MountDenali onto it and climbing him like he was the entire Rocky Mountain chain. She was holding on, but barely. Of course that was when Asshole-Bastard decided to stroll over. He was wearing that black cowboy hat, jeans that were probably going to need a shoe horn and a prayer to get off, cowboy boots big enough to house the old lady with all her kids, and a shirt that was so tight she could see all of his esophagus. She missed a beat in her knitting. Damn MountDenali and his visible nipples. 87

Despite Sendoa and Yukon talking much shit about MountDenali, they’d dropped a lot of hints about him being a good man. The men in the diner had cosigned. Though they were bossy, she couldn’t discount what they said. After all, her man had kept her warm, well-fed, and loved senseless. She discovered that she really liked saying that, even if it was only in her head. Her man, her man, her man! As sexy as he was big, MountDenali stared at her all the damn time, which really should’ve been annoying, but it was hard to be annoyed when he kept smiling at her. Arkham was positive MountDenali didn’t know that his canines were lengthened. Knowing shifters, she definitely knew that was the universal sign of “I want you.” Still, she ignored him and went right back to her discussion about stock car racing. Arkham only saw a flash of black cowboy hat and blue jeans before she was lifted and sitting on MountDenali’s lap. Already having commandeered the best seat in the diner, she now had the best seat in all of Alaska. “Hey, MountDenali,” Arkham said as the wolf shifter tilted his cowboy hat back and smiled at her, canines and all. She wanted to sigh, so she did and leaned back against his wide chest whilst listening to the men around her. Well, at least she tried to listen to the men 88

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh around her. All she could focus on was MountDenali. His scent teased her…and then there were his touches. He kept touching. His teeth were on her ear. His hands possessively rested on her hips. Even his breath against the back of her neck turned her on. His hard cock ground into her, making her think of how well he worked her body. “Stop it,” she hissed as she dropped her knitting to the table. Fluffy had crawled off of her lap as soon as MountDenali entered the diner. There was nothing for her to hold onto except for her wolf. “No,” he whispered into her mouth before he kissed her. “I’m talking to the guys,” she began, but even she couldn’t miss the tremor in her voice. “Mmm mmm,” MountDenali said as he gently pulled her hair, forcing her head back. Before Arkham knew what MountDenali was about, the wolf bared her shoulder and gently nipped his mark before taking her lips in a possessive display. Arkham knew she should be pissed, but all she could do was feel. MountDenali felt so damn good beneath her. Everything he did to her set her ablaze. Instead of wanting to tell him off, she silently demanded more. “Harder,” she found herself saying. “Baby, we have to go,” MountDenali whispered 89

in her ear. “Why?” she whispered back. “Because everyone is standing outside in the cold,” he said. Opening her eyes, Arkham noted that the diner was a ghost town. Deep down, she knew that she should care about them being cold, but the stone-cold truth was that all she could focus on was the man before her. Turning in the chair, she straddled him. “Mine,” she said before taking his lips. “Mine,” she reiterated as she grinded her sex against his jeancovered cock. “Damn right,” MountDenali growled as he picked her up. ** Though Arkham wasn’t a small woman by any means, he was not at all a small man, so the trip to his truck was quick. He didn’t have to tell her animals to come; they simply followed. Their ride was made in silence, but he could clearly hear the staccato beat of her heart and smell her desire. He didn’t recall much of the short trip home; he was simply thankful that they’d arrived safely. The animals took up their regular spots and all shot him looks of warning: Don’t start nothing. He wasn’t about to start anything with them, but 90

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh he was most definitely going to start something with Arkham…and finish it…and then start it again. “Arkham,” he rasped as he carried her to the bathroom. “MountDenali,” she whispered as she kissed him back. “I need to take a shower.” “I’ll join you,” she said as she shimmied out of her clothes. Seeing her beautiful dark skin revealed, he was glad Alaska was cold because he didn’t think he could take it if other males saw Arkham like this. Hell, he could hardly take it. After testing his endurance with her slow striptease, she shot him a saucy look and stepped into the shower. Quickly stripping, he was right behind her. “I thought I told you to stay home,” he said as he backed her against the shower wall. “I thought I told you who gets to tell me what to do, and it’s not you,” she said as she pulled him closer. “You’re my mate.” “I don’t recall you asking me anything.” “That’s because you were too busy calling the Creator, trying to catch your breath, and begging me not to stop,” he said as he gently soaped her lush curves. “I can neither confirm nor deny,” Arkham said as she returned the favor and soaped him with her 91

body. “Arkham,” he rasped. “Yes?” she responded but did not stop. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her lushness and remain there forever, but first he had to tell her his displeasure at her disobedience. “Do you know what could’ve happened at the diner?” “Um, I could’ve gotten some decent coffee the first time I asked and a meal that didn’t taste like it came out of a vending machine.” “Arkham,” he warned. “Your eyes are glowing, are you going to wolf out?” Arkham asked. “Is that what you want, Arkham?” “Yes.” The bluntness with which Arkham replied stopped him cold. His mate was serious. She wanted him as he was—untamed, uncouth, dominant. Every time he thought he’d reached the threshold of turned on, Arkham showed him different. “You’re mine, Arkham. Mine. If anyone in that diner had touched you, I would’ve torn them to shreds.” “No one in the diner would’ve dared. I wear your mark. I’m covered in your scent. Additionally, I’m covered by the Mann name, and even if they didn’t 92

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh know who I was, they know who the Manns are.” MountDenali felt pride at her words as a Mann, but as a lover, he still needed to be appeased. There were crazy people in the world. “No one touched you, but they wanted to, Arkham. You look like sex on a stick. They all wanted you, Arkham. All of them, and I can’t blame them but I would’ve killed every single one of them—including my own brother.” “Oh.” “I will not share you. I will not joke about sharing you. Nor will I allow anyone who touches you to live. I will kill them and I will not feel one ounce of guilt.” MountDenali watched as Arkham’s dark eyes brightened then with surprise and something else…lust. Ah, his woman was bloodthirsty…and she was his. MountDenali closed the distance between them, not that it was much. Cupping her generous ass with one hand, he buried the other in her loose hair. He pulled her head back so that her throat was bared to him. “I felt fear, Arkham Kennesaw. I have never felt that until you,” he muttered into her neck. He felt the shuddering response from Arkham’s deeply drawn breath. 93

“Everyone there knew that I was yours,” she said. “I want everyone everywhere to know that you’re mine. I want you to know that you’re mine,” he rasped as he gently nipped her throat. He took a deep breath meant to soothe. However, it did nothing but fan the flames of his libido. His cock was hard and he was covered in her scent, and still he needed to be closer. “MountDenali,” she rasped as she soothed him with her touch, her soft hands reaching for his cock. “This is supposed to be my seduction,” he groaned. “Then seduce me,” she commanded. “But first, admit who you belong to.” “You, Arkham. Only you. Always you,” he said as he lifted her and thrust into her silken heat. The sound of his name mingled with her scream of pleasure set him off just as much as the feel of her nails clawing his back. “That’s right, mark me, Arkham. Mark me good, baby,” he commanded as he stroked in and out. He was tempted to go fast, but he wanted this to last so he slowed down. Keeping her pleasure just out of her reach, he finished soaping them, much to Arkham’s displeasure. “I want,” she said, eyes flashing fire. 94

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh “I will give it to you,” he promised as he carried her to bed. He’d barely laid her on the bed before he had her legs spread and his mouth in her sex. “So good,” he moaned into her sex. “So damn good.” “Yes,” she agreed even as she lifted her hips. MountDenali would never tire of hearing her “yes,” her “please” or her pleas. He would never tire of her hands in his hair, her hands on his body, her lips under his. Never would he tire of Arkham Kennesaw in his life, he declared a moment before he rose and slid home. He made love to Arkham as if he had all of the time in the world. Not an inch of her skin went untouched, unlicked, unnibbled. Marking one’s mate was serious business, and while he’d marked her several times, he wanted, needed for Arkham to look at her body and know without a doubt just what wolf it belonged to. Despite hearing her gasp out his name several times and feeling her body clench around his, he did not stop. He would not stop until he had nothing left to give his mate. MountDenali meant to maintain control of their lovemaking, but Arkham had other ideas. “I want to be on top,” she rasped. Buried deep inside of Arkham, he gasped at the feel of her pussy gripping him tighter. The snug fit made him harder. 95

“I planned for something more…” MountDenali’s sentence broke as Arkham bit into his throat. Pleasure spiked through his body when Arkham’s teeth broke his skin. “Damn…mate!” he snarled as her mouth sucked at the bite site on his skin. “My name, MountDenali,” Arkham said, sounding as prim as she pleased. Opening his eyes, he looked into the sparkling black diamonds. “Arkham, you’re going to break me, mate,” he said through clenched teeth as she worked her sex around his cock. “Uh huh.” He drew in a deep breath in an effort not to release, as he wanted Arkham to scream his name at least twice more. Without pulling out of his mate, he took back the dominant position. Everything within him beat at him to ride her hard and fast, but he managed to slow it down—even after Arkham wrapped her thick legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into her gorgeous, hot, welcoming body. “Now, MountDenali,” Arkham demanded. Unable to deny their bodies any longer, he began to hammer into his mate. The bed moved. Hell, he 96

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh thought the wall moved at some point, but most of all Arkham’s throat moved as she screamed his name. Never would he tire of hearing Arkham say his name like that. That was a good start, but he wanted more. He worked to draw the next orgasm from her. She felt so good…so damn perfect, and he had to focus on the lines in the wood of his bedroom wall in order to stay the course. He was going to mark Arkham—again— and he wanted her to be in the throes of an orgasm when he did. His muscles were screaming at the effort. His back, thighs and ass were covered with well-deserved marks from his female, as was his throat. MountDenali knew he’d proudly parade that mark around for the rest of his life. “Please, MountDenali,” Arkham pleaded. “Please what, Mate?” “Love me, show me, need me.” “Always,” he promised and kissed his mate. The tender kiss contrasted with the demanding rhythm his hips were beating out. Hearing Arkham moan out his name, he kissed his way down her neck. “MountDenali,” she gasped as her body tightened around him. “Arkham,” he responded as he licked that delicate space where her neck and shoulder met. 97

“Please.” Sinking his teeth into her soft skin, he gave thanks. That was when the air exploded around them as they both screamed out their completion. “I love you, Arkham,” he admitted. “Never did I doubt that, MountDenali. You show me in everything that you do for me,” Arkham said as she gently stroked his jaw. “I love you.” Holding her close, he rained gentle kisses over her until he felt sleep claim her. Dropping a nightgown over her lest she get cold, he dragged her closer and tucked the covers around them. Yep, his mate was right where she belonged—in his cabin, in his bed, in his arms and right there in his heart.

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The voices woke him. MountDenali didn’t know how these two males managed to get into his cabin, let alone his bedroom without him detecting them. Scenting them, he realized that they shared a blood tie with his mate, thus he did not jump up in kill mode. Instead, he listened to Arkham’s rather bloodthirsty relatives with a little bit of awe. If he wasn’t the intended target of their violence, he might’ve better appreciated their inventiveness. “No,” the deep voice said seriously. “Why not?” the other deep voice sounded surprised. “Because I hate killing after you’ve ripped vital organs out. It’s like flogging a dead horse.” “But you go on and on with the talking. I’m an action kind of guy.” “You’re insane. I’ve still got the certificate to prove it.” “Look, we could each take half of his body and then do what we want with our half. That way, he’s dead and we’re both happy.” “And how do you propose we ‘halve’ his body? I didn’t see a band saw anywhere nearby.” “Why would we need a band saw? Why can’t we 99

just use him like a wishbone?” “Because you always end up getting most of the body!” “I can’t help that you suck at breaking bodies in exact portions.” “You’re just greedy!” “And you’re a sore loser!” The unmistakable sound of disgust preceded the first question aimed at him. “You going to keep acting asleep or should we make that sleep permanent, boy?” “I didn’t want to interrupt when you were planning my death.” “Granddaddies?” Arkham asked as she snuggled deeper into his chest. “Baby, why is there a naked boy in your bed?” the other deep voice asked softly. “Probably because I’m all hot and stuff. I get that from Grandma.” “Mmm hmm, not helping,” they said. None of the three males were prepared when Arkham suddenly sat up, turned the lamp on and pulled the covers off of MountDenali, before ogling him in his birthday suit. “You so are yum,” Arkham said, grinning down at him. “But I still look better naked than you do.” MountDenali grinned right back and put his 100

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh hands behind his head and stretched. A second later, he was being dragged from the warmth of his mate. “No killing, Granddaddies!” Arkham yelled out a moment before she reached out and turned off the lamp and went back to sleep like he wasn’t about to get the beating of his life. His mate was so hard core. He’d see to Arkham after what was obviously going to be a sound thrashing. Don’t act so casual when your family drags your mate from bed to beat his ass, he’d tell her while he loved her to sleep. MountDenali knew he had some explaining to do. A simple “She’s my mate, end of story” scenario wasn’t going to cut it with Arkham’s secretive, wily, kill-you-because-I’m-bored family. As Arkham’s granddaddies summarily dragged him into his living room, he caught sight of Predator, who was still perched on his favorite chair. The dog covered his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to see MountDenali in all his glory. Jealous? he growled. I’m not the one about to get my ass whipped. Predator actually smiled before trotting off toward the bedroom. The Granddaddies paused as they discussed whether or not they should allow him any clothing. “You need to let him put on pants, otherwise his 101

dick’s going to be flapping about while we beat his ass.” “One pair of jeans, boy, and don’t dally.” MountDenali found Predator right where he guessed—stretched out in front of his fireplace guarding his master. There was no way he could miss the smirk the canine threw his way. About to wipe that smirk right off the dog’s mug, he was stopped by a bellow. “Hurry up and die.” “It’s supposed to be ‘hurry up or die.’” “What’s the difference?” “The use of ‘and’ rather than ‘or’ means that even if this boy complies with our wishes, he will still die.” “Yeah, and?” “You’re an idiot. Boy, hurry up.” Pulling on his jeans, he quickly dropped a kiss on Arkham’s cheek and managed to avoid getting tangled in her arms as they reached for him—although he did end up kissing her again, just because. With Arkham’s taste in his mouth and her scent in his nostrils, he was about to deepen the kiss when he was dragged from the bedroom by his hair. It was definitely his own bedroom he was dragged from, and his own house, but where it was sitting was most definitely not Alaska. Though they 102

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh were in the middle of a forest, not a hint of snow covered the ground. For that matter, there wasn’t even a hint of frost. “Where?” he began and was silenced with a double glare that shut him right up. “Georgia. Do you think we’d leave our Belva here alone just to go whip your ass when we can bring you here and whip your ass?” “I’m guessing ‘no.’” “You guess right, boy.” ** As far as beatings went, it fucking sucked. If he never again got a “talking to” by a shifter and a vampire, it’d be too soon. He was sure they could’ve explained the rules about how to treat their grandbaby without fucking his shit up. He was still breathing…just…as Arkham’s vampire grandfather was currently cutting off his air supply as he held him by the throat whilst arguing with Arkham’s shifter grandfather. “You’re a bleeding-heart liberal in your old age.” “Why? Because I want my grandbaby to be happy?” Shifter Grandfather asked. “Do you really think our little Arkham would mind being with an amputee?” 103

“Yes, considering her crazy-ass vampire grandfather was the one who ripped the limbs off her mate.” “How do we know he’s her mate? Arkham just hasn’t had enough time to consider which convent she would prefer to live in,” Vampire Grandfather argued. “You’re an idiot, and he’s going blue,” Shifter Grandfather said. “What are you talking about?” “The boy, he’s going blue.” “Oh, that,” Vampire Grandfather said as he unceremoniously tossed him to the ground. He missed the rest of the argument between the vampire and the shifter in his bid to take a breath. The roaring in his ears was fading when one of the grandfathers got his attention by standing on his windpipe. “So, I hope you’ve gleaned a lot from this little talk,” the vampire said. There was a talk? All he remembered was the beating. “Um, yes sirs,” he said. “Do I have your blessings?” “You still have all your faculties,” was the cryptic answer. MountDenali scowled at the two males. “That’s crazy granddaddy speak for ‘yes,’ Young 104

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh Man.” MountDenali would’ve turned toward the sultry voice, but suddenly he had a vampire and shifter all up in his grill. “Don’t even think about looking at our Belva until you’re cleaned up. Same thing about putting your grubby paws on our grandbaby.” “Okay, I’m just going to lie right here for a moment and heal enough to be able to walk in.” “Well, heal fast, because we don’t have all day.” ** MountDenali had just climbed out of the shower when Yukon’s voice ripped through his head. You sound like you just had your ass whipped. And what would make you suspect that? Because we directed Arkham’s granddaddies to your cabin. Hate you. If you don’t survive the beating, I’m dating Arkham. Going to kill you when I see you. That should be soon, being we’re here getting spoiled by their mates. Ha ha, asshole.

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It was just like every weekend at Kennesaw Territory. There were massive amounts of food, plenty of iced tea and lemonade and chaos for no damn reason. Eating at a Kennesaw gathering was like feeding time at a game park—and that was just the girls. There was stabbing of hands with various cutlery, pushing and shoving around the food table, text message battling, slap boxing, and warnings from Grandma. And then there was the inevitable and subsequent epidemic of the Itis, which had many stretched out on the wraparound front porch. Grandma Belva was seated across the Granddaddies, who weren’t even attempting to hide their love for her. Raider was draped across a chaise lounge and snoring her ass off. Being mean as hell obviously took up a lot of energy. Balere was draped across Jagen, though they both still pretended like they weren’t a couple, which was hard to do when Jagen kept a death grip on Balere after she’d showed up with Fletcher. The fine Australian had shifted back to Komodo form, and was busy sunning himself. The peace of the lazy afternoon was interrupted 106

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh by Shazam!, Matrix and Halima who came running around the corner of the house. “Did he come this way?” “Who?” they all asked. “The Zombie.” “That thing better not be out again!” Grandma yelled from the porch. “You’ve got a Zombie?” MountDenali asked, fascination all over his face. “It’s a long story.” Arkham sighed as she leaned closer to her man. As always, MountDenali held her tighter against his chest. Arkham tilted her neck, allowing him better access to his mark. He lazily licked it, causing her to shudder. “Luckily, I’ll have plenty of time to hear it, since I’m never letting you go,” he rasped. “Are you sure you want to be part of this family? We’re a little bit…crazy.” “What part of ‘never letting you go’ did you miss, Mate?” he asked as he nipped her. Whatever they were about to get into was rudely interrupted by her granddaddies. “Hey, you two aren’t married yet.” She heard MountDenali’s groan in her head. That deeply feminine part of her preened at the proof of how much he wanted her. It was in the hardness of 107

his body, the increase in his heart rate, the way his eyes glowed. “I don’t need a wedding, Granddaddies. White really isn’t my color anyway,” Arkham argued just to see the look of horror on her granddaddies’ faces. It was no more than they deserved for calling a halt to her pleasure. You are so wrong for that, Mate. And what’s to stop your grandfathers from treating me to another round of thrashing? Grandma. In a few minutes, they’re going to take her upstairs. Nothing interferes with their giving her pleasure. Vampire Granddaddy’s raised voice interrupted their telepathic conversation. “Is that what that boy said?” “Granddaddy, my mate has a name. Please use it,” Arkham said in the best imitation of her grandmother. “Is that what MountDenali said?” Vampire Granddaddy practically spat her mate’s name out between clenched teeth. “No, it is not. It’s what I know considering there are these things called mirrors,” Arkham said, smiling at their horrified expressions. Remind me never to get on your bad side, MountDenali said. 108

Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh “Stop messing with your granddaddies. You know they’re crazy. And there is going to be a wedding,” her grandma said as she rose. As always, the Granddaddies rose with her. “You heard your beautiful and gorgeous grandmother, young lady!” Shifter Granddaddy said sternly. “What if, for the sake of argument, neither me nor my mate wanted a wedding?” she asked. “Honey Badger,” Shifter Granddaddy said. “Cosign,” Vampire Granddaddy said as they swept Grandma up in their arms and headed for their room. Arkham couldn’t help it. She burst into laughter. “We need to hurry up and plan this wedding,” Arkham said as she turned in his arms. “Already planned, Mate. My family is on their way,” MountDenali said as he took her mouth.

**THE JEANIE AND JAYHA** Thank you for reading. We appreciate the investment of your time and trust and hope you enjoyed the tale as much as we enjoyed writing it. ~Jeanie and Jayha

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To read more about the characters connected to this book, check out the following stories: Killer Crossover: Hot up in the Capture by Jeanie Johnson and Jayha Leigh (Belva Kennesaw) For more information on the Jeanie and Jayha universe, please visit our website: www.jeanieandjayha.com

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The Jeanie and Jayha A kickass tag-team bound together by the pen, Jeanie (the shagalicious wordslinger) and Jayha (the ninja master of h*ll no’s) are forces of nature that will either leave you begging for mercy or begging for more. We are women who have brains we aren't afraid to use; feelings we aren't afraid to express; and, middle fingers that we aren’t afraid to extend. We pen stories that push all kinds of boundaries and we don’t apologize for it. Our heroines are feisty; our heroes are hot, and our stories are one-of-a-kind adventures. Come visit us at www.jeanieandjayha.com. Praises, compliments, adulation, and the like for Jeanie and Jayha can be sent to: [email protected]