Manimal Attraction

Blurb

He of the earth and water; she of the light and sky above; he of the night and feral underland. Three united through destiny, throughout eternity. Should their line perish, all shall be lost...

Abigail Pembroke, a freelance photographer, ran from Rapture Bay because she loved too much. Now she's come home to bury her dead, and perhaps finally accept her destiny. Will it be love or simply duty that forces her to stay?

Lash MacKenzie, mayor of Rapture Bay, and so much more, attuned and bred to duty, needs Abby more than she could ever imagine. He's waited patiently these last two years for his beautiful lover to find her way home.

Taggart Este, sheriff of Rapture Bay, coyote shifter, trickster and rebel, and Lash's eager male lover is trying to solve a string of murders that someone, or something, wants to look like accidents. One of those dead is Abby’s grandmother, an elder, a Harmonic Euphonical—a protector of Rapture Bay. Abby’s return home will change everything, including Tag’s exclusive relationship with Lash.

Three lovers born to inherit a time-honored power that stems from the roots of the elemental founders of Rapture Bay—it's a heritage of service that weighs heavily upon their shoulders, and it could destroy them. To serve and protect, to honor and heal, to love with a passion and commitment, may demand their very lives unless they learn to trust not only each other, but themselves, and embrace their destiny...

Excerpt

"All right, Taggart, what really happened to my grandmother?"

Tag eased out a long breath, looked down at his desk to give himself time, carefully closed the folders, and shoved them to the side of his desk. Then he again looked at Abby. He gave her a slow, feral grin as he studied her curvaceous and defiant frame.

"You sure look pretty with all that fire in your eyes, sweetheart. I can see why Lash pined for you so all that time you were gone."

Expressions fluttered across her face. The avenging anger turned to uncertainty, to sadness, to longing. And then as she looked at him, he scented the arousal she could not battle. She seemed to gather herself and her expression tightened. He admired her will. But it was no more than a facade and he felt the seething sensual heat as she fought the attraction and tried to focus on whatever had caused her to land on his doorstep.

"Well, come the hell on in. Might as well close the door and have a seat. Tell me what's got your pretty little tail feathers all ruffled."

"Stop it," she said as she stepped into his office and closed the door behind her.

"Take a seat." He indicated a chair across from his desk and then eased back down into his own chair.

Abby crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "I'll stand, thanks. How did my grandmother die, Tag Este?"

He looked at her for a long time, trying to assess exactly how much she knew. He leaned back in his chair and propped his booted feet up on the desk. He studied her as she looked at him, her gaze sweeping along the length of his jean-clad legs. Expressions of lust and anger and frustration crossed her pretty face. Blood quickly rushed to his cock and it thickened inside his jeans. He saw her gaze widen as her eyes locked onto the growing bulge. Tension tightened her body, arousal pebbled her nipples which pushed visibly against her blouse. An intriguing red blush crept up along her neck and flooded her face. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she tried to maintain control. Her scent wafted over him.

He inhaled, knew she needed to be fucked. And damn, if he didn't want to be the one doing the fucking. He rubbed a hand up and down along his thigh, watching her expression. Her pupils dilated, her expression darkened. Her lips parted and her little pink tongue shot out to wet her lips. Her mouth now invited him to kiss her. Abruptly he dropped his feet to the floor and stood, effectively breaking the connection.

Where had she gotten her information? "Car accident, honey. You know that."

Abby blinked as though awakened from a deep trance. "What?"

Tag tapped one of the folders on his desk. "Your grandmother's accident. That was what you stomped in here to find out about, wasn't it?"

The red blush deepened. This time more from embarrassment than arousal. Abby drew herself up and squared her shoulders. Which only stretched the sexy blouse tighter across her aroused full breasts. Fuck.

She lifted her chin and her green-and-gold flecked eyes flashed at him. "Some say differently. They say her brake line was tampered with. Some say the elders were murdered."

If only it was that simple. He stilled for a moment, trying to get a sense of things. Of her mood, her need, her motivations. He scented the air, identifying the various aromas that clung to her skin. Ah, it figured. He caught the whiff of Brice MacKenzie's expensive cologne. It always had turned Tag's stomach. He studied Abby closely, his gaze narrowing as he inhaled her female aroma mingled with other scents.

"Brice MacKenzie. And tuna. Lunch at the Rapture Bay Inn perhaps? Your idea or his?"

He saw the surprise in her expression, then understanding, and then anger. "Of course. You can smell him. I shouldn't be surprised."

Tag circled his desk and walked to Abby. He sensed her fear, her desire to retreat. He admired the fact that she stood her ground and faced him down. He purposefully stepped into her space. She stepped back. Something dark and dangerous reared its head inside him and he found himself herding her back to the wall. Sexual heat surged through him. He knew Lash needed her--they both did in order to secure the barrier. But there was more to it than that. He yanked the handcuffs from his belt. Before she knew what hit her, he had her cuffed to the rack where his hat rested above, right next to his coat.

"Tag, what are you doing? Let me go."

He drew closer, inhaled her scent.

"Did you fuck Brice just to irritate Lash?"

"Damn you, no. It was only lunch. He invited me."

He slowly began to undo the buttons of her blouse and revealed the soft skin beneath. "Did he," Tag murmured, his full attention on the pretty, soft skin he was revealing. "I wonder what he has in mind? Do you like him better than Lash? Maybe it's not that you like him, but that he's safer. Is that it? Did he convince you to go upstairs with him? Did he spread you out on one of those beds and eat you for dessert?"

He pulled out his jackknife and cut the fragile material of her bra, baring her breasts. He heard her inhale sharply. It wasn't fear, it was desire, and the scent of it permeated the room.

He watched her breasts rise and fall with each deep breath. Dusky nipples puckered, so dark against her honeyed skin. He looked into her eyes. She looked at him, no fear evidenced in the wide stare she gave him. He fitted his hands to her narrow waist.

He dropped to his knees and as he leaned in he moved his hands to the hem of her skirt, slowly lifting it until he revealed her panty-covered pussy. He inhaled loudly, taking in her scent. Then he looked up at her. "Nope. Don't smell his cum on you, just that sucky cologne he wears. Guess he didn't fuck you after all."

"You bastard!"

He released the skirt and it dropped back into place. Slowly he straightened. "Yeah, that's me. But it's Sheriff Bastard to you, honey."