USA Today bestselling author Robin Schone shares a tale of a man and a woman in a notorious club, who learn how very dangerous desires of the flesh can be. Claudia Dain heats up this collection with the story of two voyeuristic young courtesans who might just take part in a very public seduction at the theatre. Allyson James has a card-playing, cunning widower and a desperate young widow learn that passion is the ultimate wild card. And finally, Shiloh Walker introduces a short story of a woman saved by a shapeshifter. Now, if only she could think of a way to repay him…
Rarely does such blush-worthy, heated erotica exist—and almost never all in one book.
From my contribution to the anthology…Hunter’s Mercy
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the fifth and final feral moving, trying to circle around behind. Lightning fast, Jack shifted and turned so that he had both of them in his line of sight. He screamed defiantly as the fifth man, still in mortal form, lifted a musket at him. Hunters rarely went anywhere without silver on them—likewise, ferals did the same. If there was anything other than regular lead in that bloody musket, Jack was dead.
A resounding crack echoed through the air. A smile spread across the wolf-man’s face but it faded as his partner was the one to collapse to the ground, missing half of his head. Well, that one is dead, Jack thought inanely. Then he lunged, using the distraction to lunge for the wolf-man. He closed his jaws around a heavily-furred, thick neck, working until he had the throat between his teeth. Big, clawed hands struggled to rip him away. Jack dug his claws into the furred pelt and held on. He clamped down. Blood filled his mouth but he didn’t let go.
There was another crack and a fiery hot pain tore through his side. Another crack and the wolf-man’s body slumped. Sensing the werewolf’s death, Jack dropped him. Blood flowed down his side as he turned to stare at the woman. Smoke was still drifting from the muzzle of the pistol she held in her right hand. The one in her left hand was held at ready. She was slender and the weapons she held should have looked bulky and unwieldy.
But she looked entirely too confident.
His surprise though died as he stared into familiar golden eyes. Mercy Harper.
She didn’t look much like her brother, dark where Richard had been fair, slender graceful curves where Richard had been big and broad, built like a battering ram. But their eyes were the same.
Mercy Harper—the girl he had returned home to watch over, had just pumped him full of silver.