She drove him mad with desire, and he had to struggle to resist it â¦
Even if Shauna was interested in him, nothing could ever come of it.
She was human.
He was a wolven, and an alpha at that. That was a vast chasm to overcome. Danyon knew that those differences would never allow her to fully understand the depth of his true nature, even if she was his Keeper.
Still holding on to her arms, he suddenly became aware of the feel of her skin beneath his palms.
Soft ⦠silky ⦠warm. Very warm.
Danyon felt his pulse quicken and his nostrils flare.
At that moment, he should have felt guilty. Two of his werewolves were dead. Heâd just wiped their blood from his hands.
But Danyon felt no guilt.
There was no room for it. At that moment, every one of his senses was on high alert. Each excruciatingly aware of her.
And it left him ravenous.
Award-winning and bestselling author DEBORAH LEBLANC is a business owner, a licensed death-scene investigator and an active member of two national paranormal investigation teams. Sheâs the president of the Horror Writers Association, Mystery Writers of Americaâs Southwest chapter and the Writersâ Guild of Acadiana. Deborah is also the creator of the LeBlanc Literacy Challenge, an annual national campaign designed to encourage more people to read, and Literacy, Inc., a non-profit organization with a mission to fight illiteracy in Americaâs teens. For more information go to www.deborahleblanc.com and www.literacyinc.com.
Dear Reader,
Of all the books Iâve written over the years, this one had to be the most fun and adventurous. I had a blast diving into the world of vamps, shifters and werewolves, a world where anything and everything is possibleâincluding great sex! That the story took place in New Orleans, a city whose heartbeat is part of my own, was a lagniappe, a gift, of the highest order. The crème de la crème of the entire project, however, was working with Heather Graham and Alexandra Sokoloff. Both are brilliant, hardworking and funny ladies. Itâs impossible not to have fun writing with those two. Iâm truly grateful to have had the opportunity to work with them.
And Iâm grateful to you, dear reader, and honoured that you chose to spend a little time with me here. Life is short and minutes are precious. The fact that you shared a few with me does not go unnoticed. And Iâm equally honoured that you chose this book over the thousands available to you. Because of you, Iâm able to continue a tradition Iâve loved for a lifetimeâstorytelling. Thank you for that gift.
Best,
Deborah
A thin pink line across light brown flesh.
Sheâd cut herself ⦠again.
Shauna MacDonald looked up from the palm sheâd been reading and into the wide, bright eyes of its owner, Lurnell Franklin. Lurnell was a large Creole woman in her mid-thirties with an affinity for spandex and a rocksolid determination to be married before she hit forty. She visited A Little Bit of Magic, the mystic shop Shauna owned with her sisters, Fiona and Caitlin, at least twice a week for a palm reading. For some reason Shauna still didnât understand, Lurnell had zeroed in on her. Fiona was very gifted at reading tea leaves, and Caitlin was exceptionally intuitive when it came to Tarot cards, but Lurnell would have nothing to do with either of them. She always sought out Shauna for a reading, then would argue adamantly that the marriage line, which didnât exist on the side of her palm, just below the pinky of her right hand, was certain to appear any day. Even if she had to produce it herself.
âDidnât I tell you?â Lurnell said, tapping a three-inch, hot-pink fingernail on the reading table. âItâs like I been sayinâ, right? I know you was thinkinâ I was crazy, but this big girl here, she knows what sheâs talkinâ about. You feelinâ me? You hearinâ what Iâm sayinâ?â
Shauna eyed her.
Lurnell waggled her head. âOh, uh-uh. Donât you be givinâ me eyes.â She kissed the palm of her left hand and held it up. âLook here. I swear, hand to God. All I did was wake up this morninâ, and there that line was, all pretty and pink.â
Shauna took hold of Lurnellâs right hand and turned it pinky side up. âThatâs a cut, and you know it. And you know it because you put it there. You canât make a marriage line, Lurnell. Itâs either there or itâs not.â
Lurnell cocked her head, narrowed her eyes. âYou sayinâ Iâm lyinâ about it being for real?â
âYep.â
Shauna let go of Lurnellâs hand, sat back and folded her arms across her chest.
Lurnell mimicked the pose. âAnd what makes you so sure, Ms. Big Drawers? You donât have no second sight. You just a reader, and look at you actinâ like you all that, tellinâ me Iâm lyinâ.â
âBecause you are. Just like you did the last two times you tried pulling this stunt. Look, just because you donât have a marriage line doesnât mean itâs the end of the world. Time changes things, and palms change with it, so if youâve gotta cut something, cut yourself some slack, will you? If you keep cutting your hand like that, youâre going to wind up with a bad infection.â