Mouse’s un-life has been hell ever since the vampire who turned her tortured her and removed her vocal chords. Mute, broken, and living as a house guard under the protection of New York’s most powerful vampire, she never thought she’d be able to open up to someone again.
Christoph comes from a werewolf pack that has hated and hunted vampires from the beginning. All the stories he’s ever heard have led him to believe that they are nothing more than savage, conniving demons.
And now he belongs to them.
Finding himself in the hands of a beautiful, heartsick vampire wasn’t on his to-do list when he came to New York. His mistakes have led him and some other pack members into indentured servitude, and it’s up to him to figure out how they can all escape. The question is—-does he really want to leave?
A quiet path is deadly for a wolf, Christoph thought. Nothing down that road.
He looked at Ashi, who was silent and staring into space, both hands still clutching the collar. When have you ever really believed in the Code? Analie, a tiny low-rank, considers the Code holy.
Despite the burn, Christoph didn’t react when Mouse nicked his neck. As Royce approached, Christoph snarled, his mouth full of fangs. He lashed out with quickly-growing claws. Pain lanced his neck and shoulder as he lunged. Ouch, sword. Screw it. He growled and lashed out again. Ashi was scrambling across the floor, clumsy without his usual strength and agility, trying to get away from the rapidly shifting Were.
Christoph roared around large fangs.
Royce breathed a sigh, unheard against Christoph’s roaring. He’d thought Ashi more likely to snap and lash out than Christoph, but apparently he had been mistaken.
The aching burn of claw marks on his skin only made him more resolved to what he had to do.
While Mouse was trying to dissuade Christoph from shifting by goading him with a few shallow swipes of the silver-tainted sword, Royce ended the fracas by backhanding the Were. A second time, Christoph’s head cracked against the hardwood.
Shaking a bit of blood from the back of his hand, Royce returned to his original task, snapping the collar around Christoph’s throat before the Were could recover himself and attempt a second attack.
Mouse tucked one of the swords into the thick leather belt riding low on her hips, tossing the other to John who fumbled it. She dropped to her knees, gathering Christoph in her arms and glared at Royce as she cradled the injured Were against her.
“That was immeasurably stupid,” Ashi muttered.
Christoph raised one fist groggily in the air, his head spinning. “Go-go Goliath, mighty-mighty Goli—”
“For fuck’s sake, this not the time for pack fight songs!”
“—ath, fight-fight Goliath, stomp—”
“Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick, would you shut up?” Ashi shouted.
“—stomp-stomp and chomp-chomp-chomp and—”
“Christoph!”
Christoph shut up. God, his head was killing him. The cuts from the sword hurt like hell. The usual feeling of being able to launch himself at something or punch through a guy’s face was gone. He felt kind of noodly, kind of weak. Not a feeling he liked at all.
He gingerly felt the back of his head and then his jaw. Intact. He looked up. Hey, girl. Hey, boobs. He grinned, stars twinkling at the edges of his vision and his temples throbbing. What he intended to be, “Hey, good-lookin’” came out as, “Think I have a concussion.”
“I think my head is broken,” Christoph groaned.
“I don’t think anyone will notice,” Ashi snapped.
Simultaneously they growled at each other. Or tried to. Christoph let out a hiccupping rasp while Ashi snorted and then wheezed. They stared at each other in horror.
Sorry, folks, no preorder links yet–but I’ll keep you posted! Releases as an ebook only on February 22, 2013 from Musa Publishing.
