Her Hungers

Description

Her Hungers by Mary Winter
erotic paranormal romance
menage (M/F/M)
Cover art by Valerie Tibbs

Lilah knew werewolves. Growing up as a human in the Northwoods Pack territory, Lilah also knew Roarke Connelly. But a human would never be good enough to love a werewolf, and broken-hearted, Lilah left the Northwoods vowing never to come back.

And she kept her promise, until a vampire turned her and she needed, one more time, to see her home. A brutal attack there left her wounded and infected with lycanthropy. She became a werepyre, both vampire and werewolf and hated by both species.

Under the protection of Adrian Fitzreal, brother to the vampire who turned her, Lilah knows he’ll never be the Alpha, her wolf, and she, craves. But she accepts, because with Adrian’s help, she’s staying alive, which is all a werepyre can ask for.

Until Roarke shows up. He’s got trouble at home. A rogue group of werewolves known as the Dark Moon Dogs wants to take over his pack. But when he finds out Lilah was attacked in his territory, he goes to find out why.

And discovers that she’s no longer the teenage girl who hero-worshipped him. She’s a grown woman, with a woman’s needs and two beasts raging inside her. And right now, they hunger for her Alpha, and for her vampire.

Warning: This book contains scenes of M/F/M sex and sex while in shifted form.

Excerpt

Brawling. Vampires never brawled. Adrian wondered where the animal instinct to battle this man for Lilah had come from. Another blow landed against Roarke’s face, and then another, until he realized Roarke defended himself, but didn’t fight back.

Adrian leaned off of him, only to have Lilah dart into the space between them. “You bastard,” she snarled, and she slapped Roarke. “Why didn’t you come sooner? You let me almost die, and then you show up. You fucking bastard.” She slapped him again, leaving a large red handprint on his face.

Roarke reached up and grabbed her wrist. “Wait.”

One word stilled the chaos.

Adrian moved to the other side of Lilah, not ashamed that he’d punched Roarke. He snagged Lilah’s other wrist so the two men held her between them, suspended, caught between both worlds. Which, Adrian mused, she was. Lilah looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Let’s get dressed and discuss this like civilized people,” he offered.

“We’re not civilized people.” Lilah tugged her wrist away from him, and then from Roarke. Spinning on her heel, she stormed back to the bedroom.

“No, I guess we’re not.” Roarke’s wry grin unsettled him. “Mind if I get up?”

Adrian moved to the side, not wanting to step back into the beams of light penetrating the room. Too close, that had been too damn close, and he’d been too caught up in Lilah and Roarke’s battle to even realize the danger to himself. The old house at the end of the overgrown drive needed work, more so now that the front walls had been peppered with bullet holes and glass broken out of the window. Sitting on a two-acre lot, untamed foliage shielded the home from the street and curious neighbors. He needed, more importantly Lilah needed, somewhere more secure for them to talk, and he opened up the door to a room with boarded-over windows. Turning on the bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, he gestured Roarke into a ratty chair.

“Being on the run makes it hard to offer hospitality.” With that explanation, he sank into a threadbare couch that faced the boarded-up window. “So who are you?”

“Roarke Connelly,” Lilah answered for Roarke. She emerged in the doorway wearing a short, black spaghetti-strap shirt with tight, black jeans. “Alpha of the Northwoods pack, master’s degree in engineering with a minor in geology. My father worked with his family, and I grew up with the pack.” Boots covered her feet, and he had no doubt she had a knife, maybe two, secreted on her person somewhere. The faintest bulge at the base of her spine showed him the location of one weapon.

She strode into the room, commanding both men’s attention as she grabbed the other chair, hauled it across the floor, and sank into it.

“Don’t say you’re here to protect me. You couldn’t save me from a broken leg when I was ten, and with a pack to run, it’s not like you can hide out with us. So tell me, Roary, what are you doing here?”