18+ With his I-know-what-you-look-like-naked green eyes, sexy brogue, and cocky grin, Duncan is the type of wolf Ryanne wouldn't normally waste her time with for more than a night.
Published: March 26th, 2020
She's the treasure he never thought he'd find…
Shifter Duncan Kincaid enjoys dancing. Country dancing to be precise. After all, the lasses love nothing more than a man who can swing them around a dance floor. And that's the other thing Duncan loves- the lasses. A wink and a smile is all it takes to have a partner for the night, until a Faerie with dark curls and brazen curves throws him off his game and shakes him to his core.
He's a danger to her life, and a risk she's willing to take.
With his I-know-what-you-look-like-naked green eyes, sexy brogue, and cocky grin, Duncan is the type of wolf Ryanne wouldn't normally waste her time with for more than a night. But underneath the playful exterior, she senses a haunting sadness, one that calls to her own dark soul and distracts her from her purpose.
The murder will just have to wait.
Duncan tried to slow his racing heart, but it was impossible to do with his mysterious lass sitting right beside him.
Right there beside him.
In his Jeep.
Blethering on with him about the wolves who had come into the club and ruined his night.
Not that it hadn’t already been ruined by the fact that his mysterious stalker had been about to leave with someone else. A human, for Christ’s sake. And one wearing one of those stupid hats.
However, whoever had started the brawl? Aye, he’d be thanking him the next time he saw him. Buy the man a beer. Because of him and his temper, Duncan had had the perfect opportunity to hold the lass in his arms. To feel her soft curves and smell her sweet scent.
It was as though fate had intervened to put the two of them together. Aye, it was fate, and had nothing at all to do with the fact that he’d barreled through fists flying at his face and leapt over tables to get to her. Luckily, everyone had been too busy either fightin’ or fleein’ to pay much attention.
A quick look in the rearview mirror confirmed the lass was right. Those three wolves were running full out behind them now, not caring at all who might see them. Duncan growled low in his throat and she looked over at him, one eyebrow lifted in question. Gods, but she was bonnie. A braw female, for sure.
And she was a Faerie. Of the na maithe tribe, if he were to take a guess. Because if she were anything else…
No. He wouldn’t even think of it.
He’d figured it out the first time he’d seen her when she’d run off with the speed of a vamp. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was day at the time, he couldn’t have been convinced she wasn’t one. However, vampires would never be running about in the woods in the middle of the day. Even with the canopy of the trees, it was too risky. They could be exposed to the sun, and anything more than a few seconds and they’d be a cloud of ash blowing through the pines.
And he’d known she wasn’t a shifter. He would’ve scented another of his kind a mile away out in the open like that. So, that left only one other thing he knew of that she could be.
And tonight, when he had her wee self in his arms, he’d caught a good whiff of her. She didn’t smell like a wolf, or a vamp. She smelled like primrose, blooms from his homeland.
And he would bet she tasted just as sweet.
Another growl rose in his throat, this one hungry with lust. To feel this way again shook him through and through, and he cleared his throat, trying to disguise the sound before the lass heard.
“They’re getting closer,” she said.
About the author:
L.E. Wilson writes Paranormal Romance starring intense alpha males and the women who are fearless enough to tame them—for the most part anyway. ;) In her novels you'll find smoking hot scenes, a touch of suspense, a bit of gore, and multifaceted characters, all working together to combine her lifelong obsession with the paranormal and her love of romance.
Her writing career came about the usual way: on a dare from her loving husband. Little did they know just one casual suggestion would open a box of worms (or words as the case may be) that would forever change their lives.
Lattes and music are a necessary part of her writing process, and sometimes you'll find her typing away at her favorite Starbucks. She walks two miles to get there, to make up for all of those coffees.