Coveting the enemy is simply to die for.
Claudia Salizar has given blood, sweat and tears to the tenuous armistice between the factions that inhabit St. Louis. She rules the north side with an iron fist, striving to keep the peace between vampires, werewolves and humans no matter the cost. Stumbling across two mysterious intruders who may jeopardize everything she’s worked for is no small inconvenience.
The pair need safe passage out of the vampire quarter and they’re willing to negotiate. Claudia is immediately drawn to Silver, a human with an unusually delectable scent whose tantalizing touch brings her to the height of ecstasy. His taciturn companion is harder to crack, but Claudia has met her fair share of werewolves and giving herself to Lucan awakens desires she has too long suppressed.
Justice is soon the furthest thing from Claudia’s mind, but colluding with outsiders can have unforeseen ramifications. It’s not long before running Silver and Lucan out of town seems like the only sensible option. Time for Claudia to decide what she values more—her hard-won reputation or the two men in her bed?
Publisher's Note: This story has been previously released as part of the Wild After Dark anthology by Totally Bound Publishing.
General Release Date: 18th August 2015
Along the river, the fires had finally burned down to timid, smoky wisps rising little by little into the night sky. If I strained my eyes, I could pick out the bodies arranged like soldiers at the foot of the arch. Only char and silver buckles remained. I’d been thorough this time. No runaways to call for reinforcements, no lapses of judgment to come back and bite me in the ass. Mercy was costly.
As I smoothed a pleat in my camel-hair coat, my fingers caught on a rough, murky patch. I wrinkled my nose. Blood washed out, but still. I stood violently, my boots pelting the concrete a hundred feet below with a rain of loose pebbles. It served me right for wearing my favorite coat on the job.
I made a mental note to keep an eye for some of that witch-hazel soap at the market come Sunday night. Maybe washing powder, assuming I found any. I kicked up from the ledge, landing in a barrel roll from which I rose smoothly, if a little dusty.
The Mom and Pop stores had gone bust decades ago, yet still I picked my way over their rooftops like a ghost. A whole five hundred people slept below, some underground, most not. I kept the streets clear, didn’t make a fuss when my fee was late, and we all went on pretending the quarter was naturally more peaceful than all surrounding boroughs—all except the south side.
Most of us tried not to dwell on what went on in the south side if we could help it.
I crept down at the end of the block, grabbing hold of a gutter to slow my descent before I hit the ground. My landing was smooth and silent, like a gust of wind rippling across the concrete. I blew a strand of blonde hair out of my eyes as I stalked across the potholed tarmac.
A faint breeze was blowing in from the north, ferrying in the blessed chill of winter. I was looking forward to the long-delayed snows. Humans generally lost their appetite for conquest in glacial weather. Long nights kept them cloistered in well-defended strongholds, provisions aplenty to shield them from itinerants of my kind. Bad weather heralded peace, for the most part.
My smile soured at the notion. I had no grounds to complain, but we should have found better ways to grow our numbers by now.
The next fork in the road presented a range of options. A left would take me to the roadhouse by the Mississippi and open the door to Antwan’s bottomless supply of moonshine. I’d curl up in the back of the bar and let him tell me about his day until the first blades of sunshine crept through the window. Or I could take a right and make for the nearest manhole. A splash of pink-and-green graffiti on the grille of an ancient bakery invited me to renounce the Devil, which was no choice at all, seeing as I was purportedly cut from the same cloth.
The humans I’d recently dispatched certainly believed so. They hurled slurs like silver bullets, all equally ineffective.
I slowed my steps. Echoes drifted from across the street, bearing the feeble sounds of a struggle. None of my business. The last time I’d interrupted what I assumed was a werewolf getting a little handsy with a new pack initiate, I’d nearly lost a limb.
I made to continue my journey to Antwan’s, already fantasizing about the sharp burn of homemade liquor as it slid down my throat.
A growl cleaved the silence of the night. I stopped in my tracks.
Helena Maeve has always been a globe trotter with a fondness for adventure, but only recently has she started putting to paper the many stories she's collected in her excursions. When she isn't writing erotic romance novels, she can usually be found in an airport or on a plane, furiously penning in her trusty little notebook.
Reviewed by Night Owl Reviews
Reading it was an absolute adventure. The author spins an amazing tale that doesn't disappoint. Read to find out what creative ways a female vampire, a male werewolf and a human male past the time....
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Reviewed by Crystal's Many Reviewers
Wow! The author sure packs a punch in the pages of this short story! The sex scenes between Silver and Claudia, Lucan and Claudia, and then all three are some of the HOTTEST I have ever read! The...
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