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Feral Sins (The Phoenix Pack #1)
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If your inner wolf and your body react rather enthusiastically to a psychotic Alpha male who’s own wolf has a tendency to turn feral, it can’t be a good thing, can it? Entering into a bargain with him wouldn’t be good either. Unfortunately, Taryn Warner, a latent wolf shifter, doesn’t have many options open to her right now. Okay, she has no options. Basically it comes down to whether she’ll do what it takes to escape the arranged mating with the sick SOB that her father set up. As the answer in this case is yes, it looks as though she’ll have to agree to Trey Coleman’s deal…she’ll have to mate with him instead.
Having always disliked shifter politics, Trey Coleman hadn’t bothered trying to form alliances with other packs. Now that his uncle – a wolf with many alliances – means to take Trey’s territory and his pack, he has no option but to form some alliances of his own very quickly or he’ll be easily outnumbered in the upcoming battle. He figures that the easiest way to do that would be to mate with a female whose Alpha is powerful and influential. There’s only one problem with that – he would then be stuck with her, and the last thing Trey wants is a mate. When he hears of Taryn’s situation, he offers her a deal – if she falsely claims he’s her true mate and allows him to claim her, he’ll save her from her arranged mating and then let her leave after the battle with his uncle is over.
Sounds like a pretty straightforward deal…but soon Taryn and Trey realize they got more than they bargained for. Their mating instincts to protect and possess are weighing on them, they crave each other’s touch and company, and their inner wolves don’t like it whenever they’re apart. Add in that they’ll have to deal with this for an entire three months until the day of the battle finally arrives, and they’ve got themselves a recipe for disaster – or maybe for something quite the opposite.
Warning: This novel contains an extremely sarcastic Alpha female, a broody possessive Alpha male, bitter in-laws, voyeuristic enforcers, a whole lot of dirty talk, and steamy bedroom battles for dominance. Reader Advisory: This book also contains a graphic ménage scene – not for the faint-hearted.
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What in God’s name was that smell?
It wasn’t a bad smell, mused a slowly waking Taryn whose eyelids were too heavy to lift. It sure didn’t belong in her bed though. Her sleep-fogged brain was able to tell her three things. One, the smell was actually a person’s scent – a most delicious scent; fresh pine, spring rain and cedar wood. Two, the alluring scent belonged to a male. And three, that male was a wolf shifter, just like her. Taryn Warner did not smuggle strange guys into the pack house, even if they did smell delicious.
Forcing a droopy eye open, she peeked at the space beside her and was able to confirm her suspicion that the mystery male was long gone. Swerving her head – which felt unnaturally heavy – she peered at her alarm clock. Or, at least, she would have done if it hadn’t done a disappearing act. Along with her bedside table. And these silky sheets beneath her, she suddenly realized, were not her sheets.
With a start, she sat up. And cursed. Nope, she wasn’t in her room. In fact, she wasn’t even in her home. Scanning her surroundings warily, her eyes widened in response to not only the luxury around her, but also the realisation that she was inside what looked to be a freaking cave. A cave?
It was no Stone Age cave though. Hell, no. The light cream sandstone walls were all perfectly smooth apart from the occasional niche that was being used as a mini shelf. The floors were covered with a plush beige carpet that looked invitingly soft. There was a very masculine-style triple wardrobe and large set of drawers; both a dark oak that matched the headboard of the platform bed. The bed itself was under a smooth arch that had been hewn into the cave, making it cosy despite that the bed was huge. But not cosy enough that she was enjoying this freaky little scenario.
Although her inner wolf was on the alert, she wasn’t nervous or anxious. Taryn snickered. Her dumb wolf didn’t even have the sense to worry that she was in a strange place – a cave, no less – that she had no memory of arriving in. It was probably a good thing that she was latent.
So…had she gone out with Shaya and somehow ended up going home with a guy? That didn’t ring right. For one thing, she couldn’t recall arranging a night out, let alone actually venturing out. Moreover, her position as pack healer meant she was constantly on call and so getting ridiculously drunk was something she never did. Also, she was fully clothed – casual clothing that she would never wear on a night out – and there was no smell of sex on her or the bed.
What was the last thing she remembered doing? Despite the fogginess in her brain she could recall heading to the internet café at around noon. She sure didn’t remember getting there. Of course it was worth noting that she suffered from NRS Syndrome (Never Remembers Shit), but this was different. It was like there was a gap in her memory.
Taryn heaved the air around her into her system, filtering through the various scents. There were only two individuals that she could smell beside herself and the yummy smelling wolf. Another male and a female, both of whom were also unfamiliar wolf shifters. At least she could be sure that she wasn’t in the grasp of that dick alpha, Roscoe, who didn’t give a crap that she didn’t want to be claimed by him. For that matter, her father didn’t give a crap either; he was too busy trying to build an alliance with the other pack and if that meant using his daughter to get it, he happily would.
She wished she could say that it was just because he was so desperate for an alliance. But no, her dad already had plenty of alliances with other packs. He simply didn’t have time for his only child because, as a latent, she was a blow to his pride, an aberration in his bloodline. He hated her because, as he had seen to her conception, she was his weakness. She put his ‘greatness’ into question for the rest of the pack. Or so he thought. He certainly wouldn’t bother putting her photo on a milk carton if she never got home from wherever the hell she was.
Spotting a set of beige curtains, she flicked the bedcover aside and rose from the bed. Dizziness momentarily rushed over her and she swayed. Jesus, what was with her? Staggering to the curtains with sluggish, ungraceful movements, she parted them to reveal a bay window – a window that was unfortunately locked. Rather than morning, it was more like late afternoon. Did that mean she hadn’t spent the night here and had only been here a few hours? Or did it mean she had just had one hell of a sleep?