I am so very proud to be able to say, I'm a siren author. When Siren-Bookstrand accepted The Alpha's challenge, I cried. With happiness I hasten to add. I was elated. This story nagged at me, and the characters alternated between shouting at me, and nudging me gently in the direction they wanted me to go.
I love my wolf shifter with a hint of darkness.
Why? Well here's the blurb…
When human Ari Mackintosh lets wolf shifter Jacob Wolfe know she fancies him, fur and sparks fly. Especially, as Jacob isn't a mere shifter. He's the Alpha of his pack and a Dom to boot.
Jacob cannot believe his luck when he discovers that the woman he’s been lusting after from afar not only knows about shifters, but is turned on by seeing him shift. It becomes clear that Ari knows far more than she ought to when she recognized him in his wolf form.
It challenges Jacob, as it’s his duty to keep the pack safe. There are rules to follow—rules that he breaks one by one, as he cannot resist Ari’s natural submissiveness.
When push comes to shove and Jacob reveals his secrets, he is fully aware that they might send Ari away screaming.
He has to take the chance and trust that she will stay.
Have I caught you imagination? I do hope so. The Kinfoyle pack is one we'll hear a lot more about I think…
Here's a tease…
“Ari? You okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Ah, don’t mind me. Maybe I’m hormonal or something.”
Nope. Jacob sniffed. Definitely not hormonal. He’d sense that. It was one thing that helped all male wolf shifters in his pack know when to keep shtum and agree with their hormonal mates. Luckily in their pack it didn’t happen unless it was time to mate.
“But I dread to think what else she’ll think of,” Ari went on. “Riding on his back? Could you even do that? Ride a wolf’s back? Or a man in wolf’s clothing.”
“Who knows?” Jacob shrugged, and did his best to look clueless.
Sometimes, with help, but that’s a whole new ball game. So are the spanking, the claw, and definitely the “something else.” However he didn’t say a word. It was probably a good thing he didn’t look like a shifter. He had to live and eat, and human flesh had never appealed to him. He preferred chicken. However, her ideas intrigued him. As long as he was involved. It struck him he was thinking of her as the client, and no one else. If he was wrong, there could be problems.
Ari shook her head. “Some people. That reminds me, I’ll need to see where I can hunt out a wolf costume.” She opened a deep desk drawer and began to rummage in it. “Fuck it, where’s that sodding list of costumiers. I’ll have to increase my stock if I keep getting requests like this.”
Wolf costume? Jacob bit his lip and drew blood. Enough to stop him responding in a way guaranteed to have Ari run for the police and demand the local zoo attend or something. Even without the distraction of a bleeding lip he wanted to close his mind to anything other than the way he could respond to her challenge.
Don’t shift. Do not shift. He concentrated on Ari’s bum as she left the desk and walked round him to open a tall cupboard, and ignored the way his skin burned and his mind begged for release. He’d shift once he was safe on his own land.
“Let me know if you want me,” he said and ignored the desperation in his voice. After all, he only wanted her and not some shifter-lusting person. However he wouldn’t see her stuck. “Dinner, tomorrow?”
Ari turned from the cupboard and stretched her arms over her head. Her skirt hem lifted and the lacy edge of a stocking showed for a second. The action also un-tucked her shirt, and stretched it tight over her boobs. The mesh cups of her bra showed through the fine silk, and her nipples were visible as a dusky shadow. If only he could rip away those coverings and feast his eyes on her tits, before savouring each one in turn.
If he didn’t realize that wish, at least Jacob got a tantalising glimpse of her midriff and his cock hardened.
Jacob blinked. He sure would love to… “Ah, Dinner. Great. I’ll pick you up at seven.” Damn it, I need to get my head out of unlikely-to-happen scenarios and control my cock. He walked towards her, resisted the urge to lift the shirt even higher and see just how dark those nipples were, and went to kiss her cheek. She turned her head and he kissed her on the lips instead. Ari gave a soft sigh and opened her mouth just enough for him to slip his tongue between her lips, if he wanted to. Jacob gave into temptation. He wanted to.
Her scent surrounded him and he sensed her astonishment. However, she didn’t pull back. Instead she moaned deep in her throat, a sexy, happy, and aroused sound, and drew him in. Jacob pulled her closer until his cock rested against her. Ari wriggled and ran her hands down his spine. Did she know what that did to him? She couldn’t. Nevertheless he had to stop her before she reached the one spot guaranteed to start his shift. For him it was the tiny indentation where in his shifted state, his tail was.
It was the hardest thing in the world to end the kiss and put space between them. How he managed he had no idea. The only thing he knew was he’d have to give himself a hand and come as soon as possible. Or his shift would be hell. And this was one of the nights where he led everyone in the area, as they shifted en masse and celebrated their heritage.
They were both breathing deeply and erratically as Jacob walked to the door. The air was heavy with their arousal, and he couldn’t control the way his heart jumped and his mind shouted “at last!” It had been a long wait to see if she’d ever respond to his subtle wooing. It had taken him even longer to accept he wanted her, a human, as his mate, and no one else would do. Today had been the first time she’d sent out the unconscious signal, showing him it could be time to act.
Well what can I say?
Oh and I live on the edge of a Scottish forest, and rattle around in a house much too big for us.
Our kids have grown up and flown the nest, but roll back up when they want to take a deep breath and smell the daisies so to speak.
I write in my study, which overlooks the garden and the lane. I'm often seen procrastinating, by checking out the wild life, looking—only looking—at the ironing basket and assuring tourists that indeed, I'm not the bed and breakfast. That would mean cooking fried eggs without breaking the yolks, and disturbing the dust bunnies as they procreate under the beds. Not to be thought of.
Being able to do what I love, and knowing people get pleasure from my writing is fantastic. Long may it last.
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Love R x