Chapter 1
A seedy Alaskan bar was a strange place to search for a
rogue werewolf. Then again, Alexandra Kostra had been in more bizarre place.
Maybe if she said it enough, she’d believe it. Believe this
last and most dangerous job was a cakewalk. Alex paused, gathering her magick
around her like a velvet cloak. Bitter air swirled the dead leaves at her feet,
sent them scampering across the graveled parking lot.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated and changed her
appearance.
It paid to be a Fae bounty hunter who could glamour.
Thin ribbons of stale cigarette smoke floated on the musty air
as she strolled inside. Faded Christmas lights hung from the dusty rafters. From
a battered jukebox in the corner, a country singer wailed about losing his dog
and his wife. Alex cringed at the smell of spilt beer, spicy chili and cigars
and filtered out the scents. Smoky golden light from overhead showed a long
scarred wood bar, crowded with men. They swiveled and eyed her like fresh deer
meat as the door closed behind her. Alex swore one even drooled.
All except one. The man at the end, drinking a mug of golden
liquid, kept his head down, studying his beer. Her quarry.
Alex slid onto a stool, ordered a draft from the big-bellied
bartender. He nodded, lust gleaming in his eyes. Disguise was working. Yeehaw.
As if a big-breasted redhead dressed in skintight leather and a “come hither”
look in her innocent baby blues wouldn’t do the trick. Hell, Alex bet that in
this neck of He-Man territory, any breathing woman would suffice.
Except for rugged Dominic Farrell. Even though he hadn’t lifted
his head, she could see that no desperation showed in his eyes. He certainly
wasn’t possessed of the same avid hunger as the others because there was no
shortage of women to warm him on a cold Alaskan night. Women would walk for
hours over frozen tundra for just the promise of bliss from his caressing hands,
his hard body, his wicked tongue. No woman was safe from him.
Dominic was a hybrid, with incubus blood, which made him a very
sexy, very powerful and very dangerous werewolf.
And very difficult to catch and bring back to the demon prison
where he’d escaped from six months ago.
The offers started before she’d even settled on the stool.
Drink offers, offers of conversation, sad, desperate offers and the blunt offers
of sex. Alex smiled politely, bantered with a few men while focusing on
Dominic.
A hank of inky black hair hung over his wide forehead. His face
was bent toward the mug, a black cowboy hat hiding his expression. He looked
average in his faded sheepskin jacket, jeans and red-checked flannel shirt. But
even the other men gave him a respectful distance as if they sensed he was
trouble.
If the human men knew how deadly those fangs were, how they
could rip and pierce and shred to defend a woman Dominic wanted… they’d run
outside screaming into the cold night air.
Tonight, though, it seemed like Dominic wasn’t interested in
anything but his beer. He stared at it as if it held all life’s mysteries.
Alex opened a button, then another, to show off the body her
glamour conjured. Eyes opened wide, the other men leaned closer, their savage
appetites in full overdrive. The male attention brought back memories of another
era. Men had called her the most beautiful in the land.
Alex shoved aside the bitter thought. Concentrate on your target. Get him to notice you .
But Dominic didn’t even stir.
What, do I have to take off my clothes to
get you to notice?
Alex nudged the beer drinker dressed in a red-and-black checked
shirt who looked tall as Paul Bunyan. “Who’s that lone wolf?”
Lumberjack dude’s wide smile slipped. “That’s Dominic. Keeps to
himself. Not very friendly. You don’t want anything to do with him.”
The man began to sing off key, “Dominic the Donkey.”
Finally, her prey lifted his head, showing lean, rugged
features, and eyes of coldest blue. He gave the singer a look that would
A seedy Alaskan bar was a strange place to search for a
rogue werewolf. Then again, Alexandra Kostra had been in more bizarre place.
Maybe if she said it enough, she’d believe it. Believe this
last and most dangerous job was a cakewalk. Alex paused, gathering her magick
around her like a velvet cloak. Bitter air swirled the dead leaves at her feet,
sent them scampering across the graveled parking lot.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated and changed her
appearance.
It paid to be a Fae bounty hunter who could glamour.
Thin ribbons of stale cigarette smoke floated on the musty air
as she strolled inside. Faded Christmas lights hung from the dusty rafters. From
a battered jukebox in the corner, a country singer wailed about losing his dog
and his wife. Alex cringed at the smell of spilt beer, spicy chili and cigars
and filtered out the scents. Smoky golden light from overhead showed a long
scarred wood bar, crowded with men. They swiveled and eyed her like fresh deer
meat as the door closed behind her. Alex swore one even drooled.
All except one. The man at the end, drinking a mug of golden
liquid, kept his head down, studying his beer. Her quarry.
Alex slid onto a stool, ordered a draft from the big-bellied
bartender. He nodded, lust gleaming in his eyes. Disguise was working. Yeehaw.
As if a big-breasted redhead dressed in skintight leather and a “come hither”
look in her innocent baby blues wouldn’t do the trick. Hell, Alex bet that in
this neck of He-Man territory, any breathing woman would suffice.
Except for rugged Dominic Farrell. Even though he hadn’t lifted
his head, she could see that no desperation showed in his eyes. He certainly
wasn’t possessed of the same avid hunger as the others because there was no
shortage of women to warm him on a cold Alaskan night. Women would walk for
hours over frozen tundra for just the promise of bliss from his caressing hands,
his hard body, his wicked tongue. No woman was safe from him.
Dominic was a hybrid, with incubus blood, which made him a very
sexy, very powerful and very dangerous werewolf.
And very difficult to catch and bring back to the demon prison
where he’d escaped from six months ago.
The offers started before she’d even settled on the stool.
Drink offers, offers of conversation, sad, desperate offers and the blunt offers
of sex. Alex smiled politely, bantered with a few men while focusing on
Dominic.
A hank of inky black hair hung over his wide forehead. His face
was bent toward the mug, a black cowboy hat hiding his expression. He looked
average in his faded sheepskin jacket, jeans and red-checked flannel shirt. But
even the other men gave him a respectful distance as if they sensed he was
trouble.
If the human men knew how deadly those fangs were, how they
could rip and pierce and shred to defend a woman Dominic wanted… they’d run
outside screaming into the cold night air.
Tonight, though, it seemed like Dominic wasn’t interested in
anything but his beer. He stared at it as if it held all life’s mysteries.
Alex opened a button, then another, to show off the body her
glamour conjured. Eyes opened wide, the other men leaned closer, their savage
appetites in full overdrive. The male attention brought back memories of another
era. Men had called her the most beautiful in the land.
Alex shoved aside the bitter thought. Concentrate on your target. Get him to notice you .
But Dominic didn’t even stir.
What, do I have to take off my clothes to
get you to notice?
Alex nudged the beer drinker dressed in a red-and-black checked
shirt who looked tall as Paul Bunyan. “Who’s that lone wolf?”
Lumberjack dude’s wide smile slipped. “That’s Dominic. Keeps to
himself. Not very friendly. You don’t want anything to do with him.”
The man began to sing off key, “Dominic the Donkey.”
Finally, her prey lifted his head, showing lean, rugged
features, and eyes of coldest blue. He gave the singer a look that would
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