Argenti agent Darren Sumner was born to hunt and terminate rogue werewolves, and his assignment to target Aden Richter should have been like any other. Guilty of seven murders, the werewolf needed to be put down.
Unfortunately, Darren’s assigned to infiltrate a Halloween party in a leather miniskirt, high heels, and a wig! To make things more difficult, once he comes in contact with Aden, the last thing he wants to do is kill him.
Distracted by lust neither can control, they stumble over a conspiracy that involves the darkest magic, betrayal, and murder. A conspiracy that binds Darren and Aden inextricably tighter as the danger moves closer ...
"But I think you'll find I don't go silently into the night, gorgeous."
Darren coughed, trying to clear the tickle in his throat. The altogether ridiculous tickle in his throat. "Oh, I wouldn't expect you to. What fun would that be?"
"Is that what this is?" His hand was back on Darren's thigh. It shouldn't have felt so hot through the net stockings, but each almost gentle sweep scorched a brand new path. "Fun?"
"Of course. It's a party, after all."
Darren closed his hands in his fists, not because he planned to punch Aden, but because he wanted to touch Aden with the same sort of slow, intimate caresses. It was werewolf magic. It had to be. He wasn't aware of any such thing as werewolf magic, and there were no recorded reports of werewolves putting their victims in a trance, but how else could he explain what Aden was doing to him?
"Aren't you having fun?"
Another reverberating chuckle, this one somehow deeper than before. "I imagine my sort of fun and your sort of fun might not necessarily be the same."
The pressure against his back changed, shifting to the side. He didn't need to turn his head to know Aden had sat next to him, his back facing the patio, his legs still lost under the blanket of darkness. The guitar was gone, so now not even a strap disrupted the hard ripple of his chest. But Aden's hands kept moving, distracting Darren from the temptation of his body. The one on his leg crept higher and higher, while its mate slipped along the back of Darren's neck.
"So what's Plan B?" Aden asked softly. "You can't stab me now, so ... how do you intend to take me down?"
"I guess I'll just have to bide my time ... strike when you least expect it." Balling his hands into fists wasn't working anymore. His fingers crept over Aden's hip, his pinky brushing across the ridges of his abdomen. He covered Aden's hand with his free fingers, stopping him from continuing the journey up Darren's thigh. "When you're otherwise distracted."
"Or I could kill you here and now." The threat came in the same seductive tone as his earlier compliments. "That might be fun, too."
"You could try, sunshine. But if you know I work for Argenti, then you know it's not as simple as that."
His teeth flashed white as he smiled. "Which is why it would be fun."
Darren moved his hand over Aden's thigh. Aden's strong, muscled thigh. His fingertips brushed against his undeniable erection, and a thrill went up his arm. He had intended to search for weapons, but now he was far too distracted by the line of his thick cock. "Well, that's a pity, because it seems like this would be more fun."
"Yes," came the murmured response. "I think it would be."
Before Darren had time to react, Aden closed the distance between them and took his mouth in lingering caress. He tightened his grip on the back of Darren's neck, making it impossible to break away from the kiss, but the firm probe of Aden's tongue was even more difficult to deny.
Kissing Aden Richter like he wanted to eat his face was not part of his mission. In fact, if Jasmine caught him necking with a target, he'd be summarily dismissed, and possibly put on trial, depending on just how much necking had happened. But Jasmine wasn't there ...