Power and confidence radiated from him.
He had a hard edge, as if he could cut with knifelike precision through every bad element that ever rode a New York subway. Yet he had the face of a gentle warrior. Siennaâs breath caught. She felt a stir of sexual chemistry.
He was as lonely and grief-stricken as she was. Her heart twisted. Who had hurt this man? She wanted to go to him, comfort him and ease his sorrow. Sienna smiled.
A crooked, charming smile touched his full mouth. Twin dimples appeared on those taut cheeks, making him appear younger and boyish. She felt all her own pain slowly evaporate. Gods, he was handsome. An odd connection flared between them. Sienna locked her gaze to his, desperately needing someone who understood.
Then her nostrils flared as she caught his scent. Hatred boiled to the surface. Not a man. Draicon.
The enemy.
Dear Reader,
In 1943, my uncle Ed was drafted to fight in World War II. Once, while his unit remained safely outside, Ed sat inside a burned-out building, working on a bomb that he held between his legs. He was just a kid, praying the entire time that he wouldnât blow himself up.
The courage of Edmond Fischer, and many other servicemen and women, inspired me to write The Covert Wolfâthe first in a new series about a top-secret group of US Navy SEALS who are also paranormals.
Matthew Parker is a Draicon werewolf and a navy SEAL who is tormented by the death of his best friend in Afghanistan by pyrokinetic demons. Matt is determined to find a magick orb the demons want to use to destroy the world. He teams up with Sienna McClare, one of the few who can identify the missing Orb. Working together, Matt and Sienna discover the inner strength to accept their true natures, and the quiet courage it takes to do the right thingâno matter how scared you are.
Happy reading!
Bonnie Vanak
Afghanistan, Helmand province
The clay desert was hard-packed, mirror-flat and easy to scan. But the foothills, ah, the damn rugged outcroppings of rock and earth that began the river valley, thatâs where they would hide.
Where I would hide, if I were targeting a kill, thought Lieutenant Matthew âDakotaâ Parker as he scanned the dangerous terrain.
With its engine still running, their Hummer was parked on the isolated roadway as Matt and his partner checked out a suspicious trace of spectral magick he had glimpsed on a small berm. As a Draicon, his senses were sharper in wolf form, but damn, it was hard to drive, as Adam joked, when your paws didnât touch the pedals. They didnât train you for that in BUD/S, the intense twenty-six-week program that weeded out those not tough enough to become a U.S. Navy SEAL.
But a shape-shifting rat could see that spark of trace magick. It glowed black.
Demon-black, empty and soulless.
Or as his teammate Ryder Thompson always said, âEmpty as the bottom of my damn wallet after leave.â
Matt smiled as he thought of Ryder, aka âRenegade,â a fellow Draicon wolf whose specialty was languages. Like Matt and Adam, Ryder was a member of SEAL Team 21âs elite Phoenix Force. Eight men, all great guys. All SEALs, part of Naval Special Warfare. Like Delta Force, they were so secret the Department of Defense never admitted they existed.
Except their human counterparts had no idea what they truly wereâ¦.
The Phoenix Force was a special counterterrorist ghost squad, but the terrorists they fought had fangs and claws. Every member was a paranorm. Only a few high-ranking officials knew their special abilities, including Keegan Byrne, a four-star admiral who was a Primary Mage. Byrne could wipe a personâs memory clean with the snap of his lean fingers.
Standing on the berm, Matt kept his Heckler & Koch MP-5 submachine gun trained on the jagged outcropping of rock, his gaze and his senses sharpened as he watched Adam. Chief Petty Officer Adam âWildcatâ Barstow was his best friend and swim buddy. The black jaguarâs sharp claws dug into the pebbled sand as he pressed his nose close to the ground.
Adam turned, shifted back into human form and used magick to clothe himself. The SEAL was dressed like Mattâlightweight desert battle dress uniform, boots, gloves and vest weighted with survival gear, plus seven magazines and hand grenades. A cammie helmet covered his ash-brown hair. Adam frowned as he flexed his fingers.