Wolf's Hunt (MF)

Wild Blood MC 2

Evernight Publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 67,205
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He's trying to make things right.

Three years ago Wolf fled New Orleans, leaving heartache and violence in his wake. Now he's got one chance to win back the woman he left behind, Clea Allary. There's just one thing standing in his way—the deadly President of the Voodoo Kin MC, a man who will stop at nothing to finish Wolf and claim Clea for himself. Whether she likes it or not.

She's trying to survive

Clea's been staying one step ahead of the Voodoo Kin ever since Wolf broke her heart and disappeared. But it's getting harder to cope and there's no way out that she can see. When Wolf crashes back into her life, he offers her a dangerously tempting escape route. But how can she ever trust him again?

Be Warned: public exhibition

Wolf's Hunt (MF)
0 Ratings (0.0)

Wolf's Hunt (MF)

Wild Blood MC 2

Evernight Publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 67,205
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Jay Aheer
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Excerpt

Wolf glanced back at the stage. Clea was in full swing with some upbeat number, pointedly avoiding looking in his direction. Maybe he’d misread her signal and she’d been silently telling him to fuck off, not to go through the door.

Well, fuck it. What was the worst that could happen? He’d already been beaten, carved up, and chased out of his home. He’d already lost the girl he loved, the daughter he desperately wanted. Whatever Clea did or said tonight, she couldn’t put him through that nightmare again. He had nothing to lose here.

He shouldered past Grim and went through the door.

At the end of a short corridor, he found a small office that smelt of cigar smoke and brandy. It was simply but richly furnished, and he found it impossible not to picture Shango behind the oak desk, smoking Cubans and counting cash. He ground his teeth together and sat on the desk, trying to get himself under control. He didn’t want to be thinking about Shango when Clea walked through the door. It had to be about her. Just her.

She made him wait. He’d been kicking his heels for a good twenty minutes when Clea burst into the room like a whirlwind, slamming the door behind her.

“What the hell are you doing here? How dare you come into my bar—”

“Clea.” Wolf leapt up from the desk and approached her, ready to grovel, ready to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

She didn’t give him the chance. As soon as he was within range, she slapped him. Hard. “Don’t you say a word, Danny Howell.” Her lips trembled and her eyes shone suspiciously, but he knew she wouldn’t actually cry in front of him. It was the one thing she’d never allowed herself to do. “You think I’m gonna give you the time of day? You think you deserve a single second of my time?”

“You’re giving it to me now,” he said, wincing at his choice of words even as they came out of his mouth.

She slapped him again. The blow stung, but he took it without flinching. “In your dreams,” she snapped.

“Every fucking night, Clea.”

She went to slap him again, but he caught her wrist and yanked her hard against his chest. He locked his other arm around her waist and he kissed her. He kissed her like she made him feel – starving, desperate, determined. Like he could make her understand with this kiss how much he hated what he’d done, how much he needed to fix it. He’d tried to tell her all those years ago, but nothing he said was ever right, ever enough. Maybe now he could show her.

She struggled for a second, slapping her palm uselessly against his chest and then, just as he was about to release her, she melted into him, kissing him back greedily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, bit and nibbled at his lips, moaning into his mouth as she thrust her breasts against him, leaving him in no doubt that whatever she said, she still wanted him.

He grabbed her thighs, lifting her effortlessly and pushing her back against the wall. She curled her legs around his waist, sending her silky dress riding up to expose her flimsy panties. Wolf growled and dipped his head to kiss the soft curves of her breasts, mounded up for his mouth by the dress.

She gasped, raking her hand through his hair. "I missed you," she whispered. "I hate you."

"I love you." He pushed against her, letting her feel the erection throbbing almost painfully inside his jeans. "I want you. Goddammit, Clea, I want you."

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