Magic springs from unexpected sources.
In the second novel of The Werewolves of Rebellion series, Phillip Andrews, second-in-command of the Werewolves of Rebellion, bumps into Daffodil, a leggy blond, and falls hard for her. There’s only one problem—she’s the River Rebel’s branded property.
But Daffodil has even worse problems and finds herself in a dangerous, abusive sexual game with Ezra Smith, acting president of the River Rebels. Upon meeting Phillip, Daffodil can’t get him out of her mind. He gives her hope and strength, things no man has ever inspired in her before. If she tries to leave the River Rebels, Ezra will surely find her and murder Phillip. And when she foils one of Ezra’s human-trafficking shipments, Daffodil is forced to escape the MC and go into hiding in Phillip’s arms.
As Halloween approaches, the Werewolves of Rebellion are faced with bizarre deaths in their MC. Men are found drained of everything, leaving only mummified husks behind. Demon-women tantalize dreams and frighten everyone in the MC. Bernadette, mate to club president Frank Nightshade, is now an apprentice witch, but although she keeps trying to protect the MC and Frank’s clan from evil, now she must save Phil and his new woman, Daffodil, too.
The only way that Phil and Daffodil can be together is to vanquish the demons, but in doing so, how many will lose their lives, and will it be worth it for their love?
“Nice to meet you, Daffodil.”
She liked how he used her given name instead of the shortened version. Phil seemed to genuinely like talking with her, instead of flattering or talking dirty to her to get sex. Or just demanding she bend over or spread her legs. With a fast look around the dining rooms, she decided a couple more minutes with him wouldn’t hurt anything.
“I remember you,” she said finally. “You were at Crow’s MC to”—she lowered her voice—“swap that sweetbutt for that…crate.”
“Yep.” He nodded to one side of her. “When were you sold?”
Shit. He’d seen the brand. So much for keeping his interest. Who was she kidding? He was just being nice. Everyone knew the Werewolves of Rebellion was a good MC. They didn’t buy, make or sell drugs, guns…or people. They took care of their own, even had a community established that was part of their MC. She tipped her head to one side as she gave him another once-over. Phil sure was handsome, tall and lanky but not in a gangly way. More like a big-framed way, as if hidden strength lurked in that body. Sadly, she’d never know.
“I go where I have to so I can survive,” she said so low she wasn’t sure he’d hear her. “It was nice talking to you, Phil.” With that, she turned and walked away. Hot tears stung her eyes, and by the time she reached her Focus, she could barely see to dig her keys out of her purse and unlock the driver’s door.
A sob wrenched free as she finally managed to stick the key in the lock and open the door. As she was about to throw herself down into the seat, someone’s warm, firm hand landed on her upper arm and turned her around.
“Hey,” Phil said, looking down into her face. “Are you okay?