Unspoken Sins Tempoary Cover
Unspoken Sins Title

This story is a little different than what I normally gravitate to. The shifters aren’t the good guys, and they aren’t a natural occurrence. I also took a shaky step forward and set the story in near future London, even going so far as to use British slang. However, as always, my heroine is no wilting flower; she’s one smart cookie who knows how to protect herself. And of course, the hero is an intelligent, strong man who is a protector at heart. Together, this couple charmed me so quickly that their story was amazingly fun to write. Please enjoy this excerpt from Wolf Rain.

He stood, carefully unhooking his gun belt as he took in his surroundings. The flat was a sort of strange organized chaos. The walls were lined with bookshelves, all the way around the living room, to his left into the dining room, past the small kitchen and down the hallway. Books were crammed against each other with very little breathing space, their spines blending into one long, jagged line of various colors. Even the coffee table was strewn with open tomes and scrawled-in notebooks. The furniture was well used but clean. At one time, the set would have been expensive. The leather sofa and loveseat almost took up the entire living room, with a small television propped on a short wooden filing cabinet completing the decor. He was sure that if he looked inside that cabinet it would be stuffed with paperwork.

Shaking his head, he locked the door as he watched Diana make her way past the kitchen, the fluorescent light spilling through the open archway illuminating her path. He turned and his eyes landed on the scratched-up dining room set, a light wooden number that had seen years of constant use. The large window on the far wall behind the table was covered with mesh burglar bars, as was the smaller window in the kitchen and the four that ringed the living room. He shouldn’t have been surprised she’d created such a secure bolt-hole, considering the way she’d defended herself in the alley.

“Come back here and let me take care of that wound.”

He didn’t need to reply to her demand—after all, this was the only reason he’d agreed to come into her flat. He followed behind her down a short hallway, going into a surprisingly large loo on the right hand side. She closed the white toilet lid and patted it with her hand.

“Have a seat,” she said with a slow smile.

Heat raced to mix and swell in his loins. He felt moisture gather behind his teeth and fought the urge to lap at her upturned mouth. Tightening his mouth, he grabbed at his control and sat down, shifting as best he could against his stiff crotch. He watched while she popped open the large white box, methodically laying out bottles, tubes, tape and gauze. Her efficiency shown here, too. He studied her small hands, staring when they moved to pour alcohol on a diminutive white square of cotton.

She moved her eyes to assess his injury, heating his skin underneath her perusal.

“This is going to hurt.”

She gave him the cursory warning just before she dabbed at the bite mark. He felt the slight sting, knew that if he’d been normal it would have burned like hell, and he would have bellowed and hissed and cursed. At least she hadn’t lied about the pain.

He stayed silent as she cleaned him up, sterilizing the wound before wiping away the dried blood. She had experience with this, he realized with sudden clarity, then had to wonder exactly how and where she’d learned…and who she’d patched up. A feral curl of jealousy sprang up to claw at his belly and he worked to shove it down. There was no place for passion here.

“Sorry, I don’t have any super hero bandages.” She tilted her head, her lips lifting into another half smile.

He had to do something to ease the tension. Even if she couldn’t feel the air vibrating, he bloody well could. Whether it was the adrenaline from the fight or the waves of her arousing scent, the fact was his entire body was in sudden dire need of the woman beside him. A woman he didn’t know. A woman who didn’t know him.

“What, you aren’t going to kiss it and make it better?” His voice came out more strained than he’d hoped.

His sarcastic comment only gained him a raised eyebrow. He waited for her to move back, or to make a snarky comment in return, or to even slap him. Anything but stay this close—close enough that all he had to do was lower his head for his mouth to be against her bare arm.

“Do you think it would help?”

Her voice was thick, wavering with a slight tremble, two small signals another man wouldn’t have noticed. But he did. And his entire body went onto high, painful alert. It was insane, he was insane. Attraction was one thing, but this quickening was something completely different. He couldn’t stay. He had to leave. Staying wouldn’t just be wrong, it would be dangerous.

Then he opened his mouth to respond. “I don’t know. No one’s ever tried.”

Her head swiveled around, her blue eyes filled with an odd look of sympathy and desire, and Harm knew there was no going back. He watched as she lowered her head and was helpless as her mouth came closer and her arm pressed against him. She hesitated for a split second, long enough to let him know she was considering, long enough to torture him beyond thought. Then her lips were brushing his, the soft texture teasing as she tasted him. He responded in kind, just a small nip, just a little sample of the plump flesh.

Mine. The word exploded in his head the same instant his blood combusted. He couldn’t stop his reaction, couldn’t stop standing and lunging for her, bringing her completely into his arms. He cradled her against his chest, anchoring her between his legs. His tongue reached out to lap against her lips, craving more of her taste. She complied with a moan, her mouth opening as she met him thrust for thrust.