of the pleasure claiming him. Almost instantly he felt her answering spasms,
and like a man possessed, rammed into her in a frenzy he worried might well unhinge
his hips.
“Yes!” she cried out as her cunt muscles quivered around him. “Yes, Fallon. Yes !”
The last spurt of juices trickled from him and he slumped against her, breathing
hard, gasping to bring air into his lungs. His heart was racing and he was covered in
sweat.
“Shower,” she mumbled.
“Yeah.”
Without breaking contact and while they both still had a modicum of energy left in
their depleted bodies, he carried her—still clinging to his hips and neck—into the
bathroom and plopped against the wall. With one hand still cupped under her ass, he
used the other to fumble with the shower controls.
“Hot,” she said against his neck. “I like it hot.”
“Me too,” he said, and thought of course that would be the way she liked it for the
Exchange had provided the perfect woman to him for his mate.
He smiled as he nudged aside the vinyl shower curtain and lifted his leg to step into
the tub, still carrying her in his arms.
“Umm,” she said with a sigh as he backed her under the flow of the steaming,
cascading water.
He wanted to bathe her, put his hands on every part of her. He didn’t even notice
he was still fully clothed or that his boots were filling with water.
* * * * *
55
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“So what was it?” she asked as she lightly traced a pattern upon his naked chest.
“Whatever was out there?”
“I have no idea.” Her head was on his shoulder, his arm around her, his chin atop
the glossy sleekness of her hair. A glance at the clock on the bedside table revealed it
was three in the morning. “I followed it until I lost the godawful scent.” He ran his
fingers up and down her bare arm. “I got the feeling whatever it was it was laughing at
me.”
“Did you get a sense of evil emanating from it?”
“No, did you?” he asked.
“Not really. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t read it at all, but I did feel very
apprehensive,” she said.
“It was whistling,” he told her.
“Whistling?”
“Or crooning. I really couldn’t tell which.” He sighed. “We’ve got enough on our
plate that we don’t need another entity to have to worry about. We…”
The entire room shook as something slammed brutally into the ceiling. There was
another loud hit then maniacal laughter so deafening, so unnatural it made both Fallon
and Keenan slap their hands to their ears in agony. The cottage vibrated, every
windowpane cracked and all the light bulbs as well as the dresser and bathroom
mirrors shattered.
“Holy shit, what the hell is that?” Keenan yelled.
Fallon shot off the bed, dragging on his jeans, hopping into them as he stumbled to
the bedroom door. Cursing as he stepped on the broken glass in his bare feet. He jerked
open the door and came face-to-face with something he’d only glimpsed in his worst
nightmares.
An oversized hand with sharp talons shot forth and poked Fallon’s naked chest.
“You’re it!” a gruff, rasping hiss of a voice said.
Shock lanced through Fallon’s brain and he yelped, staggering back, clutching his
chest and falling to the floor on his ass in an attempt to get away from the immense
threat looming into the room.
Filling the doorway was a huge figure swathed in clumps of ragged gray fur that
reeked to high heaven. Large pointed ears were crowned with spiky tufts and an
overhanging brow that shadowed its red eyes. So tall it had to bend down to lean into
the room, the creature shot out one long arm and thick digits capped with deadly
looking claws waved childlike at Keenan.
“Greetings, Mate of the hound!” the creature said in its garbled voice, and chuckled.
It snorted wetly, ran the back of its shaggy arm under its broad black snout of a nose
then moved backward through the door, lumbering so heavily the floor shook beneath
its
and like a man possessed, rammed into her in a frenzy he worried might well unhinge
his hips.
“Yes!” she cried out as her cunt muscles quivered around him. “Yes, Fallon. Yes !”
The last spurt of juices trickled from him and he slumped against her, breathing
hard, gasping to bring air into his lungs. His heart was racing and he was covered in
sweat.
“Shower,” she mumbled.
“Yeah.”
Without breaking contact and while they both still had a modicum of energy left in
their depleted bodies, he carried her—still clinging to his hips and neck—into the
bathroom and plopped against the wall. With one hand still cupped under her ass, he
used the other to fumble with the shower controls.
“Hot,” she said against his neck. “I like it hot.”
“Me too,” he said, and thought of course that would be the way she liked it for the
Exchange had provided the perfect woman to him for his mate.
He smiled as he nudged aside the vinyl shower curtain and lifted his leg to step into
the tub, still carrying her in his arms.
“Umm,” she said with a sigh as he backed her under the flow of the steaming,
cascading water.
He wanted to bathe her, put his hands on every part of her. He didn’t even notice
he was still fully clothed or that his boots were filling with water.
* * * * *
55
Charlotte Boyett-Compo
“So what was it?” she asked as she lightly traced a pattern upon his naked chest.
“Whatever was out there?”
“I have no idea.” Her head was on his shoulder, his arm around her, his chin atop
the glossy sleekness of her hair. A glance at the clock on the bedside table revealed it
was three in the morning. “I followed it until I lost the godawful scent.” He ran his
fingers up and down her bare arm. “I got the feeling whatever it was it was laughing at
me.”
“Did you get a sense of evil emanating from it?”
“No, did you?” he asked.
“Not really. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t read it at all, but I did feel very
apprehensive,” she said.
“It was whistling,” he told her.
“Whistling?”
“Or crooning. I really couldn’t tell which.” He sighed. “We’ve got enough on our
plate that we don’t need another entity to have to worry about. We…”
The entire room shook as something slammed brutally into the ceiling. There was
another loud hit then maniacal laughter so deafening, so unnatural it made both Fallon
and Keenan slap their hands to their ears in agony. The cottage vibrated, every
windowpane cracked and all the light bulbs as well as the dresser and bathroom
mirrors shattered.
“Holy shit, what the hell is that?” Keenan yelled.
Fallon shot off the bed, dragging on his jeans, hopping into them as he stumbled to
the bedroom door. Cursing as he stepped on the broken glass in his bare feet. He jerked
open the door and came face-to-face with something he’d only glimpsed in his worst
nightmares.
An oversized hand with sharp talons shot forth and poked Fallon’s naked chest.
“You’re it!” a gruff, rasping hiss of a voice said.
Shock lanced through Fallon’s brain and he yelped, staggering back, clutching his
chest and falling to the floor on his ass in an attempt to get away from the immense
threat looming into the room.
Filling the doorway was a huge figure swathed in clumps of ragged gray fur that
reeked to high heaven. Large pointed ears were crowned with spiky tufts and an
overhanging brow that shadowed its red eyes. So tall it had to bend down to lean into
the room, the creature shot out one long arm and thick digits capped with deadly
looking claws waved childlike at Keenan.
“Greetings, Mate of the hound!” the creature said in its garbled voice, and chuckled.
It snorted wetly, ran the back of its shaggy arm under its broad black snout of a nose
then moved backward through the door, lumbering so heavily the floor shook beneath
its
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