Page 65 of Claiming Chaos
“Now we rest,” Ember said. “Recharge, recover, live to fight another day.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Miles clinked his bottle to hers.
We finished our beer, and everyone headed to their respective bedrooms. I set my satchel on the dresser, but Chaos opened a drawer and slipped it inside.
“Don’t want him watching us sleep?” I rose onto my toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“Not really.” He slid his arms around me, holding me tightly. “I’d rather have one last night alone with my little witch.”
I leaned back to look into his eyes. “This won’t be our last night. We’ll figure something out.”
“We will try our best.” He kissed my forehead, lingering there as he inhaled. “Right now…”
“Is all that matters.” I angled my head up to brush his lips with mine.
He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I can’t promise you the happy ever after you deserve.”
I rested my hands on his shoulders, looking at him with all the sincerity I felt in every fiber of my being. “I’ll settle for happy for now.”
He shook his head. “It’s so much more than now. I will be by your side until the bitter end.”
“Okay.” I cupped his cheek in my hand, and he nuzzled into it. “How about happy until the inevitable?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he curved his lips. “Happy until the inevitable. That, I can promise.”
* * *
The saga continues in Mayhem and Ember…
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* * *
A psychic detective.
An alpha wolf.
A forbidden love that could tear the pack apart.
Turn the page to read a preview of Werewolves Only…
Werewolves Only
Chapter One
Detective Macey Carpenter ducked under the police tape blocking off an alley on St. Peter Street and smoothed her hair toward the tight bun she wore near the nape of her neck. Storm clouds gathered in the darkening sky, and the summer air hung thick and wet. It was a typical steamy August night in the French Quarter, but the heavy humidity did nothing to quell the chorus of offending odors dancing in the air. She wrinkled her nose.
Slipping her hands into a pair of blue latex gloves, she snapped them at the wrists. The slight sting helped to separate the gruesomeness she’d soon see from the ordinary life she’d return to later. Disconnecting the good from the bad in her mind kept the nightmares at bay.
She paced into the alley, and three men in blue nodded curtly as they passed. “Carpenter,” the blond with a crew cut muttered.
She nodded back and inhaled a deep breath. Angling up her nose to catch the wind, she rifled through the array of scents it presented her. The overpowering aroma of the female victim’s Chanel couldn’t cover the metallic reek of blood. Lucky for the woman, most of the blood seemed to belong to the attacker.
Macey shook her head. Seven sexual assaults in three weeks’ time. In each case, the victims described a different man. Different, yet similar enough that they had to be connected. But how? The assailant had disappeared every time but this one. What the hell was going on in this town?
She stepped into the courtyard and took in the landscape of the crime scene. Six nineteenth-century buildings backed onto a shared park. Willows lined the square, their sorrowful branches looming over the grief-stricken scene. A weathered stone fountain bubbled at the center of the wooded garden, and a thirty-foot magnolia tree towered in the corner, the perfume of its citrusy, white flowers mingling with the stale stench of death, creating a sickly-sweet fragrance that made her stomach turn.
“It’s about time you got here, boss.” Bryce Samuels winked and sauntered toward her.