And keep an eye out for Cynthia
Eden’s
NEVER CRY WOLF,
coming next month . . .
Lucas Simone paced the confines of the
eight-by-twelve foot jail cell, a snarl on his lips. The wolf
within howled with rage, and the man that the world generally saw,
well, he felt more than a little pissed, too.
Collared
for a murder he hadn’t committed. Talk about
shitluck. Yeah, Lucas had played on the wild side, he’d even killed
before, and the bastards had more than deserved the death he’d
given them.
But this time, for this crime, he was
innocent. Right. Like the cops would buy that story.
His hands tightened around the bars.
If he wanted, he could rip those bars apart, and if they didn’t let
him out soon, he would. “I want my lawyer! Now!” His pack had to
know where he was. A leader didn’t just vanish, and if he didn’t
make contact with them soon, Lucas wasn’t exactly sure what would
happen.
Probably hell on earth . . . or wolves
running wild in LA, which, yeah, that equaled hell on earth.
Especially if he wasn’t there to keep the wilder wolves on their
leashes.
Everyone already knew that wolf
shifters had a tendency to dance on the edge of sanity. Once those
leashes were gone . . . hello,
hell.
The bars beneath his fingers began to
bend as the rage swelled inside him.
A human was dead. Tossed on his
doorstep like garbage.
Not my
kill.
Because Lucas had a rule. Just one.
Don’t attack the
weak.
As far as he was concerned, there
wasn’t any being weaker than a human.
“Guard!” His teeth burned as they
lengthened in his mouth. No more fucking nice wolf. He was getting
out, one way or another. The metal bars groaned within his grasp.
“Simone!” Not the guard’s voice. The dumbass detective who’d
brought him in for “questioning.” Only he hadn’t been questioned.
The cop had just thrown his ass into a cage.
Lucas’s kind didn’t do so well with
cages.
He’d make sure the detective didn’t
make the same mistake again.
His eyes lifted, tracked to the left
to meet that beady gray stare—
And instead got caught by a pair of
green eyes.
His nostrils flared. The woman stood
behind the detective, a slight frown between her brows. She was
tall, curved just the way he wanted a woman to be, with sensual,
full breasts and hips that would let a guy hold on tight for a wild
ride.
Pretty face. Straight nose, tilted
just a bit on the end—kinda cute. A light spray of freckles across
her high cheekbones. Sexy red lips. Jaw that was a bit
stubborn.
And gorgeous hair. A thick mane of
dark, dark brown hair that curled around her face.
Her stare widened as he gazed at her.
She licked her lips, a quick swipe of her tongue.
His cock began to swell, an immediate
and instinctive response, even as suspicion rose within him. What
was the sexy little human doing at his cell? Was she another cop? A
lawyer?
Her eyes—the greenest he’d ever
seen—stayed locked on his. That emerald stare didn’t waver at all.
Not even to glance toward the right, to catch sight on the jagged
remains of his ear.
Most women looked. Like they couldn’t
help it. Looked, flinched. So did the men.
Lucas had never really given a damn.
The top of his ear had been ripped off years ago in the worst fight
of his life. He’d been ten at the time.
But she
didn’t look.
A guard came scurrying into the
holding area, keys loose and jingling in his right
hand.
“Get him out.” The order came from
Detective Dickhead.
Lucas let go of the bars, even as he
tried to chain the beast that demanded he lunge for the ass’s
throat.
Playing it
civilized sucked.
The door opened seconds later with a
harsh moan.
The woman smiled—with her lips, not
her eyes. “Lover . . .” A sexy purr of sound.
He felt that purr run the length of
his body, even as the lie burned in his mind. He knew he’d never
been this lady’s
lover.
Not yet, anyway.
“You’re free to go, Romeo,” Detective
Dickhead drawled. “Your lady gave you an alibi for last night, one
that we were able to back up with accounts from three other
witnesses.”
Bullshit.
Last night, he’d gone running solo.
He’d let the wolf out so that he could howl and hunt as much as he
wanted.
He’d come home with the taste of blood
on his tongue, and then he’d found blood staining his front
steps.
Lucas rolled his shoulders, trying to
force the tension back, and stalked out of the cage. Then she was
in his arms. Throwing herself against him. Wrapping slender arms
around his neck and pressing her mouth to his.
Lucas wasn’t a stupid man. If a sexy
woman wanted to plaster her curves against him, he wasn’t gonna
argue.
But he was most certainly gonna
take.
His hands lifted, caught her, locked
right around the firm flare of her ass, and he pressed her closer.
His mouth took hers, his tongue plunged deep.
Oh, but she tasted sweet.
Not the wild tang of his kind. Women
like him, women who could shift into the powerful form of a beast,
usually tasted like aged wine.
She tasted like candy.
He’d always had a sweet
tooth.
Her tongue moved against his, soft
strokes, like a kitten, licking. A moan trembled in her
throat.
His cock strained against the front of
his jeans. Okay, so he didn’t know who she was. Not gonna stop him.
Because he’d sure like to screw h—
“Ahem.” The Dickhead
again.
The woman in his arms stiffened, just
a bit.
For
show. He knew she hadn’t forgotten the detective’s
presence. And neither had he. Lucas just hadn’t given a damn that
they were being observed.
“Sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” Her
voice was husky, sexual. Like a silken stroke right over his
groin.
“No problem, babe.” He curved his
fingers under her chin. Two could play. He saw the small tremor
that shook her, and he smiled. Deliberately, he let her see the
sharp edge of his teeth. Way sharper than a human’s.
But no fear flashed in her
eyes.
Interesting.
The lady knew the score, he’d stake
his pack’s reputation on that fact. She knew he wasn’t human.
Probably knew exactly what
he was.
And she was still coming to his
aid.
Now, as a rule, Lucas didn’t believe
that people were good. No, he knew they were more apt to be
influenced by the devil than any pure motivation . . . so he
figured the lady had an angle.
“The Los Angeles police department
apologizes for any inconvenience.” The nasally voice of Dickhead
told him.
Lucas released the woman. Gently, he
pushed her to the side. His eyes narrowed as he cocked his head and
waited for Dickhead to finish.
“Of course, you have a known history
of affiliation with certain—”
He moved in one quick lunge. Lucas
grabbed the detective, lifted the jerk by his too-thick throat, and
slammed him against the bars.
The guard stepped
forward.
Lucas’s head snapped to the right.
“Don’t even think about it.” Guttural. Because really, a guy’s
patience could only last so long.
The guard’s Adam’s apple
bobbed.
“Good.” He glanced back at the
detective. “Bruce, I think you and I need to clear the air.” So
others were there watching—big deal. He wouldn’t play subtle.
“You’ve got a hard-on for me. You been dodging my feet for the last
two months.” He let the beast show in his eyes. Lucas knew the glow
of the wolf would burn from his blue eyes. “You stay out of my way
from now on . . . or you’ll find out just what I do to bastards who
piss me off.”
The detective’s skin bleached.
“You-you can’t threaten a cop—”
He let his claws dig into Bruce’s
flapping flesh. “I just did.”
“What are you?” A
whisper.
His smile faded. “Someone” something
“You don’t want to have as an enemy.” His fingers loosened. The
detective slid from his grip. Dropped to the floor. Probably pissed
himself.
Lucas stared down at the man. He let
Bruce see the intent in his eyes. Then he caught the woman’s hand.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”