I paced back and forth in my cell, over and over again. I hadn’t eaten in what felt like days, except when I’d managed to scarf down a couple of rats when they had made the mistake of running into my cell. I felt disgusting, dirty, having consumed raw meat like that, but I had been in my wolf form when I had done it and that had been enough to keep me alive, at least. And healed. The wounds the guards had left on me from my latest beating would take awhile to heal, but now I had the energy to fix them up, unlike before.

I had tried speaking to Rissa a few times, but she hadn’t replied. Was she dead? Maybe that would have been a mercy – I knew I was sick for thinking it, but I couldn’t get the look of anguish she’d had on her face out of my head. It made me want to cry. That thing, that creature – stuck somewhere between wolf and human – didn’t deserve the life that had been forced upon her. I wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay but I didn’t know how I could ever say that again with any conviction. I wanted to cry. That was the only overwhelming emotion I had left but I was too exhausted even to do that.

Cora was here. I wasn’t sure where she was, or exactly how long it had been since they had trapped her in here, but she was here, too, and the knowledge of that both warmed my soul and made me want to scream in horror. I couldn’t believe that the one person I’d cared about from back home, the one person who had treated me with any kind of dignity after it had all gone down, was trapped in here with me and facing the worst thing I could possibly imagine. I wondered if she had seen someone like Rissa, if she knew what was in store for her. Her screams, still ringing in my ears, told me that at least she had some idea of what she was faced with. What were they going to do to her? How bad was it going to be? I wanted to claw my way out of this cell and find her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. If she still recognized me. If she even recognized herself.

But these cells were built strong and hearty, so that no shifter could use their powers to escape. I had gone over every inch of this place using the paltry light I could see by through the tiny window at the top of the wall to inspect as much as I could, and I hadn’t found one little thing that told me there was any way out of here. My best bet would be to attack a guard when they came in here to bring me food or water, but even then, what would I do from there on out? There were dozens of people out there who I assumed would be all too happy to gain some favor from their monster of a leader by handing me back over, and God knows what they would do to me then. Maybe I would end up in the same place as Rissa and Cora and that hapless male they’d referenced when they’d taken Cora away.

How many people did they have in here, suffering in agony, waiting for some kind of sweet release after the weeks, months, or years of torture at the hands of these monsters? The thought made my blood boil. If I ever did get out of here, then I would make a point of coming back and exposing the awfulness that was going on in this place. Surely, not everyone here could know what was going down.

Maybe I was being too optimistic, but I couldn’t imagine that so many people were that comfortable with all of this. They couldn’t know everything that was going on in here or else they would have protested or left or…or maybe the ones who didn’t like it ended up as experiments themselves. My stomach dropped at the thought. Rickland MacLaren was evil. I wasn’t going to let that pass if I ever got a chance to take him on for it.

Not that I ever would. My heart sank when I thought of the chances of me getting out of this place. Where would I go? Back to the Kellum compound, in the hopes that they would take me back? No, there would be no chance of that. They’d probably think I was coming at them as a spy for the other side, even as beaten and bloodied as I was. No, I’d go back to the cabin in the woods, to the ones who’d taken care of me despite everything, the ones who I loved more than I had loved anyone in my entire life-

Loved.

Now there was a word I hadn’t used before. But it was the only one that described how I felt about the Robicheaux brothers. Those gorgeous, loving, badass males who had taken me in and made me feel like a real person once more. It was strange, thinking about how lost I had been before they found me. I hadn’t even known how much I’d needed people like them in my life, how much I’d craved their attention and adoration. How good they made me feel, without knowing who I was or where I came from. It wasn’t until I met them that I truly understood how dirty and cynical and foul this whole business with the war between the clans was, and now that I had a taste of a life without all that, I needed to get back to it. They had cared for me and I had cared for them – things had just fit together, as though they were obvious, when the five of us had been together. In more ways than one. I still craved their touches, their mouths, their hands, more than they would ever know. I wondered if they missed me, if they had looked for me at all.

Suddenly, I heard a noise at the end of the hall – I looked up, noting the blackness outside, and wondered who the hell was coming in here at this time of night. Whoever it was, I was all too happy to take them on. I prepared myself, coaxing the small brick I had managed to loosen out from the wall and gripping it in my hand. I could do this. I could take out this guard. I would kill him if I had to. The thought curdled in my brain, making me feel a little ill, but I knew that my choices were to take this guy out or to end up like those poor creatures experimented on in this place. Barely even human anymore. I took a deep breath as the footsteps drew closer, but before I could swing, I realized that they were too quick to belong to a guard. Far too quick. Like they were running from something or to something or-

“James?” I gasped, as I finally saw who the footsteps belonged to. He looked terrified, even in the pale half-light afforded by the window high on the wall. His face was drawn and he held his hand up to silence me, then beckoned me closer.

“What are you doing here?” I murmured, keeping my voice low, though I doubted Rissa was in much of a state to overhear or rat us out.

“I’m sorry I had to lie.” He looked genuinely pained, the cruelty and harshness from his attitude before vanishing just like that. “I…I had no choice. I knew if I didn’t tell them who you were, they would have sent you for experimenting like the rest of the prisoners…”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “Thank you for…for keeping me alive.”

He looked around again and I could see the panic written all over his face. He knew he shouldn’t be here. I wondered what his punishment would be for talking to me, for telling me the truth, for showing me a little human comfort in my time of need, the same as I had shown him. Well, not quite the same, as I was still stuck in here and-

Before I could finish the thought, the boy had looked around once more and had produced a heavy key from his pocket. He pushed it through the bars on my door and let it clatter to the ground with a clunk. He widened his eyes at me, as though imploring me to keep my damn mouth shut, and I blinked at him for a moment as I tried to make sense out of what had just happened. He darted off and, before he could change his mind, I lunged to grab for the key and undid the door as fast as I could. I stepped out of the cell and inhaled a big lungful of air. I was free. I was out.

“Rissa?” I hissed into the blackness, but there was no reply. I peered into her cell but couldn’t see anything looking back at me. As my eyes grew accustomed to the light, I thought I could make her out – her back to me, her sides rising and expanding smoothly as she breathed in and out.

“Rissa!” I called again, as loudly as I dared, but there was no response.

“I’ll come back for you,” I promised, and I meant it. For now, I needed to get out of here.

I crept to the door, which James had left unlatched, and stepped out into the main square of the compound – a snow had fallen overnight and the place was covered with soft white, oddly peaceful despite my circumstances. I took a deep breath, looked around, and noted a small door open on the side of one of the enormous walls that enclosed this place. Yes, that would do.

I hurried towards it, shifting as I went and gathering my clothes in my jaw, and prayed that the fresh snow would obscure my scent enough that no one would bother coming out to find me. I hurtled through the snow, not looking back, my heart hammering so fast that I feared it might burst out the front of my chest. It pained me to know I was leaving people behind, that Rissa and Cora remained in this place, and made a promise to the full moon above me that I would come back to let them out as soon as I could.

I made my way out of the compound and into the forest beyond, and realized I had no idea where I was going. I just had to run. As far and as fast as I could. And pray that eventually I would stumble over one of the men I missed so much it felt as though a hole had been left in my heart at their absence.

I began to move, glancing over my shoulder and making sure nobody was following me. And then, it hit me – I was out. I had sincerely believed that I would never get to feel this again, never get the snow under my feet or the breeze through my fur. I felt a rush of joy, despite myself. I was out. I had done it. My kindness had come back and released me.

And then, my stomach dropped as I saw three figures on the horizon, cresting the top of a hill that I was barreling towards.

Wolves. Three of them, all male.

No doubt on patrol from the keep to trap in prisoners like me. My stomach clenched and I skidded to a halt, baring my teeth, preparing for a fight. Now that I had a taste of freedom, I wasn’t going back there. Not for anything.

They approached slowly, as though making sure they had the right wolf, but as they got nearer, I realized something. I recognized their scents. Was I going crazy, or—

Their scents washed over me like a warm summer rain. Before my mind could fully grasp it, they shifted back into human form when they were in front of me, and I did the same.

Luke, Anton, and Ethan stood before me, looking down at me, beautifully bare and as perfect as the day I’d left them.

“Oh, my God,” I gasped, and tears sprang into my eyes. I collapsed forward and Ethan caught me, pulling me into his arms. I inhaled his scent, the scents of all three of them, and wrapped my arms around him tight. I never wanted to let go.

“Jesus, are you all right?” Anton asked, a little gruff, and I wondered if he was feeling as emotional as I was. I pulled away, shivering in the cold. “God, I feared we were too late. That we’d never see you again. What happened?”

“I just…” I pointed back down towards the keep, which was still in view. “I left because I didn’t want you guys to have to put yourselves in danger to protect me, but I didn’t get far. The MacLarens took me prisoner. I escaped and…”

I trailed off again, squinting. There was something wrong. The swell of joy that had overtaken me as soon as I had realized it was them was slowly draining away, and I couldn’t figure out why. I scanned their faces, one by one, and through my fog of shock and fear, it finally hit me.

“Wait, where’s Rafe?”

“He’s not with you?” Anton demanded.

“No.” I shook my head. “I left alone that night.”

“Fuck,” Luke muttered to himself.

“We followed his scent and it disappeared right about the same time as yours did before we picked it up again leading here. He must have followed you and ended up getting caught.” Anton tipped his head back and ran his hand over his chin. “Did you see him down at the keep?”

“No, but…” I shook my head, and then remembered what they had said the day before. The male. They were putting Cora in with a male.

For experimenting.

“Oh, my god,” I whispered, anger and fear and desperation swelling inside me all at once. “I think I know where he is.”

“Do they have him?” Anton frowned, and I nodded.

“I think so,” I confirmed and my chest went cold. “And I think he’s in a hell of a lot of danger.”

“We need to get him out of there, then.” Luke peered past me to the keep, like he was going to run down there and get him out right then and there.

“Yeah, we do,” I agreed. I looked between the three of them, grief and terror melding as I realized I’d been the reason Rafe was captured. “But there are hundreds of them, and we can’t do it alone. We need to get some help. I got you guys into this mess, and I swear I will find a way to get you out of it.”

Or I would die trying.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of Arianna’s story in Book Two, coming in Jan. 2018!

Want more steamy reverse harem now? Check out , out now!

Four very bad boys, one ill-advised Christmas wish...what's a girl to do?

Eleanor Maxwell loves her job at the daycare center and can’t wait to become a full-fledged teacher. But when a sexy stranger propositions her, she can’t help but wonder if she’s played it too safe all these years. Just when she’s considering throwing caution to the wind for a night of passion, the matter is taken out of her hands as she’s swept away by a clan of dragon shifters claiming they need a mate…and she’s it!

Chapter One

"It's lovely," I said, holding up Bobby White's drawing and squinting. "What is it?”

"You!" squealed Bobby, with perhaps just a hint of reproach in his young voice.

I looked again at the confusion of blue and red paint, sprinkled with glitter and, for some reason, with a dead leaf pasted into the middle of it. "Of course it's me! How silly of me not to recognize myself."

"You ridin' a dom-key," Bobby explained.

"What fun," I said with an enthusiastic nod.

"In a spaceship. With a crocodile." He pointed to a bright orange smear and I beamed back at him.

I never got tired of listening to the flights of imagination of my two and three-year-old charges. They might not have always had the language skills to express what they meant—to Bobby, every animal between the sizes of a dog and horse was a crocodile—but their enthusiasm for everything, their curiosity about the world, and their desire to see everything, do everything, and learn everything at ninety miles a minute made them the best people in the world to work with, bar none.

The kids were why I got into teaching in the first place—or at least they were why I was trying to get into teaching. Working at the Sunshine Daycare Center was a day job, a way to pay the bills while I got my Master’s in teaching via night school. It made for a punishing schedule, but I stuck with it because being a teacher was all I had ever wanted, and because working with the kids was its own reward. Of course, the money was important, too. A Master’s is an expensive commitment—just meeting living expenses was tough enough, even if you're not living in the big city. The money I earned didn't have time to get comfortable in my bank account—it went straight in and straight out again.

"It's beautiful," I said to Bobby. "I'm going to put it up on the wall."

"Fank you, Elmelemanor!" My name—which was more usually pronounced Eleanor, or just plain Ella—was always a bridge too far for Bobby's diction.

He scooted off happily, back to the drawing table to work on his next masterpiece, while I surveyed the room. The brilliant thing about kids at this age was that they had no concept of “cool”. Even before the word was used in human history there was a sort of unconscious concept of “cool”—some cavemen would look down on others because they wore the wrong type of animal skin, while others self-consciously hid their interest in quartz because everyone else was into flint. For some reason, this is how we're wired.

But not kids.

Kids do what they want without ever worrying about how it might look. They dance if they want to dance for sheer joy of doing it and don't care that they look like a puppet with its strings cut, on speed. They tell each other, their parents, their teachers and even random strangers that they love them. They wear what they like, they say what they think and they never worry that anyone might judge them for it. Best of all, none of their peers do judge them for it. When they dance badly, no one makes fun—they're more likely to join in. Sometimes you'll see kids behaving like kids in the park and parents will desperately try to rein them in—my heart breaks a little every time I see something like that. This stage of their lives, this joyous, non-judgmental attitude, is all too short. In a scant ten years it will be gone and they'll be picking on the weaker ones in the herd because they're wearing the wrong sneakers or listening to the wrong music.

I often wondered how much we accidentally inflicted those prejudices on children from our own experience. Or perhaps it was just an inevitable part of growing up; finding your people, your tribe, your clan. Either way, the more time I spent with children of this extraordinary age, the more I thought we could all learn a thing or two from them. I didn't have to look back very far through my own life to think of opportunities missed because I was too scared to go after what I had really wanted. I knew it's a horribly trite thing to say—

“I'm supposed to be teaching them but I feel like they're the ones who are teaching me”—but that's genuinely how I felt. To live without the societal inhibitions of adulthood, that would be something.

"Ella!"

Just as I was thinking these very deep thoughts, Janet, one of the other caregivers, yelled to me and pointed at where Tyler Montgomery was painting a mural on the wall of the nap-time room with the contents of his diaper.

"I got him," I called back to Janet. "Tyler! What are you doing? You wouldn't do that at home, would you?"

As I chased after the half-naked Tyler, who had made a break for it as fast as his pudgy little legs would carry him, I reflected that Tyler's mother was, in fact, a conceptual artist. She had apparently won a major award last year for a pile of distressed tires which she set on fire outside of Rockefeller Center. I had asked what it meant but she said, “Whatever you want it to mean”, which didn't really help. For all I knew, she was training Tyler up for her next exhibition. I made a mental note to ask her to tell Tyler that feces were not an appropriate medium.

After a surprisingly vigorous chase around the soft play area—the kid had an impressive turn of speed—I managed to grab Tyler, who acquiesced immediately with a big grin on his face.

"Come on." I took Tyler to the changing table to clean him up and get him into a clean diaper, while Janet made a start on the wall. I wasn't sure which of us had drawn the short straw there, but tomorrow the roles might be reversed. You couldn’t work with kids without taking the rough with the smooth, or without developing a pretty high tolerance for poop over every surface. Of course, there was a downside to just doing what you wanted at every opportunity. But still, it looked like a pretty good way to live your life. Provided there was someone else to wipe the poop off the walls afterwards.

By the time I had managed to manhandle the squirmy Tyler into a fresh diaper, located the rest of his clothes and persuaded him back into them, it was close to quitting time. Parents were starting to show up to claim children who begged for “Five more minutes!” to finish whatever made-up game they had embarked upon. Janet and I, along with the other two caregivers, Ruth and Valentina, helped bundle kids into hats, scarves and boots to protect them from the wintery chill. Lost mittens were tracked down, sweaters stretched over tiny heads, and toys pointedly taken and put to one side for “just long enough to get your coat on”.

Much as I enjoyed my work, I was happy enough to see them go, it had been a long day, with the troublesome Tyler setting the seal on it. As more parents turned up, I tried to make myself a little more presentable following my cross-country assault course on the tail of the budding conceptual artist. There again was that very human need to look the part in the presence of others. All these people had children. They all knew that looking presentable and handling kids did not go hand in hand, and yet I still felt the need to force my auburn hair back into the bun from which it had escaped.

I was still glowing—men sweat, women glow—so much that my blouse was sticking to my back, but there wasn't much I could do about that, or about my still red face. I really needed to get a bit more exercise—when a three-year-old can out-run you and get you out of breath, then it's time to dig out that long-forgotten gym membership. But not tonight. It was Friday night, which meant that there was no school for me this evening and that the pile of studying on my desk could wait until the weekend.

The first order of tonight was a long, relaxing bath with a tall, relaxing glass of wine, closely followed by an evening in front of the TV with friends and more wine. When I was younger that would have sounded like a pretty tame Friday night, but at the grand old age of twenty-four it was about as wild as a night gets. I was looking forward to the Christmas break, when I might unleash what was left of my wild side for long enough to actually go out to a bar.

"Doing anything this weekend?" asked Janet, as we watched over the leaving children, exchanging smiles and encouraging words with parents as they came and went.

"Studying," I admitted.

"You work too hard."

"That degree isn't going to master itself."

"Yeah, but doing it alongside this?" Janet indicated the quieting chaos of the room.

"Well, if I want to eat, I have to work."

Janet rolled her eyes. "I am aware of this. I'm just saying, there may be jobs which are better paid and less exhausting, which might be more suited to someone doing a degree on the side."

Of course, she was right. I thought about telling her that doing a job in the childcare industry was an important part of my training and would count in my favor in the future—which was kind of true. But that wasn't the real reason I worked here. I loved working with kids. Perhaps that was a dumb reason to exhaust myself daily, but there it was.

"Thanks for the advice, but I'm happy with things the way they are."

Janet shook her head. "You're nuts, girl. I can't think of one good reason to work in a place like—” She broke off and let out a low whistle as her cheeks went pink. “Well, hello good reason."

Janet's gaze had drifted away from my face and towards the door behind me, through which parents were still arriving and departing. I turned to see what she was looking at, and what Ruth and Valentina had now joined her in looking at.

The man seemed to fill the room. Not just because he was tall, although he was; not just because his chunky sweater struggled to contain his broad chest—how could muscles be outlined in wool?— but because he carried with him an indefinable aura, a charisma that extended around him. Any room into which he walked, he would automatically be the center. It helped that he was perhaps the most handsome man I had seen—and based on the slack-jawed looks of the other girls, it was not just me.

His hair was black and I looked for dark eyes to match, but instead my gaze was met by a pair of piercing green ones, almost cat-like in their intensity. As they lighted on me I felt my knees wobble, and surreptitiously steadied myself against a desk.

For a moment, it felt as if all four women were in the starting blocks for the one hundred meter sprint. Janet was married, Ruth had a boyfriend and Valentina had an “understanding” with the man who delivered the kids' lunches every day, and yet this still seemed like a four-way race, and they would explain things to their partners at a later date. Fortunately for me, the man spoke before any of us could move.

"Are one of you ladies Miss Maxwell? Eleanor Maxwell?"

I was sure I had actually heard Janet whimper quietly when the man started to speak, in a voice that sounded as if it had been coated in dark chocolate. When he said my name, something happened inside me that didn't usually happen without inappropriate touching.

"That's me!" My enthusiasm probably sounded a little over the top but I was rewarded with the man's face breaking into a smile that made his chiseled good looks even closer to sublime perfection. I could feel the quiet jealousy of the other three women burning holes in me as I strolled, as casually as I was currently able, towards the tall, dark stranger, feeling almost as if I was drawn by his eyes.

"I'm Eleanor Maxwell. Ella. Call me Ella. What can I do to you? For you!" I blushed deep scarlet—no one can blush like a pale-skinned girl.

"You were recommended to me. By Mrs. Miller," he added, just as I had started wondering what I might have been recommended for. "I want to offer you a job."

Daisy Miller was a lovely child, one of the sweetest you could ask to meet, but she was also very shy, with an unfortunate habit of wetting herself around strangers. I had taken the girl on as my personal project and got her over this issue—it was nice to know that it had been appreciated.

"She says you're great with kids," the man continued.

"Kids. Yes," I said, with less articulacy than many of the Sunshine kids could manage. I tried to ignore the not very subtle giggling and whispering coming from behind me and made an effort to be more professional. "I'd definitely be interested." As long as I was still working with kids then I could cut back my hours at the center, assuming this would be better paid. "Would you like to come back to the office and discuss it?" As I finished, I allowed my eyes to do a surreptitious sweep of his hand—no wedding ring. Not that that mattered, of course, since this was all business, but still good to know.

The man looked about him. "Looks like you're closing up for the evening and I don't want to rush through the details. There's a bar down the street, how about we discuss this over a drink?"

However much my libido was calling the shots at this point, I was not stupid. I realized that going to a bar with a strange man was not a sensible thing to do. He could have been a serial killer. On the other hand, he had asked me in front of three giggling witnesses, the bar he was talking about was always busy, and he was very handsome. It had also been a long time since I'd been for a drink with a man, and even longer since I'd done any of the things that having a drink with a man was supposed to lead to. I was in the middle of a dry spell that made the Sahara look like Sea World, and I was standing here with the most attractive man I'd ever laid eyes on, who might just be willing to end it. My mind was no longer dwelling on what was the worst that could happen, and moved on to what might be the best. And from the looks of him, it would be The Best. For a moment, my thoughts took an incongruous turn back to earlier in the day; if you want something, then go for it. Live like a kid for once.

"That sounds great."

The man smiled, which was in itself enough to convince me that I'd made the right decision. Besides, I do need the money; my fridge is on the fritz.

As I headed out with a man whose name I did not even know, I glanced back at Janet and saw her biting her knuckle, making me laugh. I wondered if Mr. Tall, Dark and Green-Eyed would be open to mixing business with pleasure. A girl could dream.

Chapter Two

MacClarens was the sort of bar that can be found in pretty much any town and city in America, a place where people go after work—most often on a Friday—to have drinks and unwind. I'd been there a few times with co-workers, I'd been there with friends, and I'd even had a couple of dates there. In all those previous visits I had never felt like this.

It was quite something to walk into a bar and be the envy of every single woman in the room, and I couldn’t say I hated it. They were probably all wondering how I had scored the man sitting beside me, who had bought me a glass of wine and was removing his coat and sweater to reveal a tailored shirt that did even less to hide his sculpted physique. The only time I'd felt anything comparable was in tenth grade when I'd dated Jack Sanders, who could have had any girl he wanted but picked me. As it turned out, he had also picked three other girls, but for a while there it felt good to be the cool teen for once.

"You still haven't told me your name," I began. My mother had warned me about having drinks with strangers, if I found out his name before I took a sip then I was probably still within the letter of the law. That said, the fact that I had dared go this far in complete mystery made a dark and seductive sensation well up within me, warming me from the inside out.

"MacKenzie."

"Pleased to meet you Mr. MacKenzie."

A half smile tugged at his lips. "Just MacKenzie."

Was that odd, that he had a single name, like Cher or Bono? Was that the sort of thing I should be worrying about? I found it hard to worry about anything when I was this close to him. The aura that had surrounded him when he entered the daycare center now felt like a heat, bathing him, making it hard for me to think straight. Could a man really have so much sex appeal that it radiated from him?

"So, Eleanor—or Ella, wasn't it?"

I wanted to say; “you can call me whatever you want”. But I settled for nodding.

"Tell me about yourself, Ella. Start with the daycare center. How long have you been working there?"

If there had been something more than work in his penetrating stare before, he seemed all business now. His questions were to the point, focusing on my schooling, training, experience and enthusiasm for working with children. I didn't mind answering them—they were on my favorite subject and I was here for a job—but I was beginning to wonder if I had misread the situation. Perhaps I had just been hoping there was more going on here and so had convinced myself. As time passed, it became less and less likely that he was going to sweep the glasses from the table and take me across it while the rest of the bar stared on in awe. Or even take me back to his place.

As we were talking—or as I was talking and MacKenzie drank in my words, somehow making the act of listening quietly sexual—a band was setting up in the corner.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm MacClarens' welcome to the Wild Rovers!"

I loved a good pub band and the Wild Rovers were classic examples of the genre, erring just on the right side of cacophony, clattering through classic numbers with enthusiasm. They did, however, make it a little hard to carry out a job interview.

"When I left…” I trailed off and cleared my throat, amping up my voice. “WHEN I LEFT SCHOOL, I—”

MacKenzie held up a hand to stop me. "I don't think you're going to beat the band. Maybe we should put a pin in it for now.“

Somehow, his soft, dark tones carried above the music without him having to raise his voice. He looked round at the band and then back to me, one eyebrow cocked in an expression of almost boyish mischief.

"Do you feel like dancing?"

I tried not to let my reaction show on my face, but it was hard when the question had me both terrified and giddy with excitement. “Sure.”

I wasn't sure I could even stand, but I'd find a way. My hopes that this might be more than an interview cautiously began to rise again. Certainly this was the first job interview I'd had during which I'd been invited to dance—that had to mean something.

Didn't it?

If the other women in the bar had hated me before, that hatred reached a new level as I strolled out onto the makeshift dance floor and MacKenzie slung a confident arm about me.

He moved like some sort of predatory animal; confident, strong and sinuous. His touch, even through my clothes, made electric shocks of sharp arousal fire through me, and when a creased up corner of my blouse allowed his finger to graze against the bare skin of my waist, I thought I might explode. The women around the room seemed to have given up hating me now, and had settled instead for naked jealousy, practically drooling into their drinks. And who could blame them? MacKenzie danced like he did everything; with quiet, sultry perfection. When I moved he was there with me, when I dipped he easily caught my weight in his strong arms, he spun me and I laughed for the sheer pleasure of it. It had been a long time since I could remember having this much fun. Then, as the music slowed, he drew me to him and I went, unresisting. My heart pounded with excitement in my chest, so hard that I was sure he'd be able to feel it against him. My nervousness made me clumsy and I trod on his toe.

"Sorry," I muttered, embarrassed of being so inadequate next to him.

But MacKenzie did not even seem to notice. "You have the bluest eyes."

With the lightest of pressure he held me closer, so I felt I could count muscles in his abdomen as they moved against me. I tried to remember how long I had known this man, and what I was doing here with him, but all my good sense had melted away in the flame of the unbelievable attraction I felt for him. I wanted him.

The band stopped for a break and we took our seats again. I was breathless with the exertion of dancing, with the nervous energy of first attraction and the hot desire fluttering in my chest.

"How about a mojito?"

"Sure." I couldn't have said no to that voice even if I had wanted to, and any reservations I might have had, had vanished one dance ago. Still, I managed to retain a veneer of this being about business. "By the way, I meant to ask; how many children would I be taking care of?"

MacKenzie frowned at the question as if I had misunderstood the evening completely. "I don't have any children."

This time, the hot flush that claimed my cheeks was nothing to do with arousal. No kids? Then what had all this been about? Unpleasant possibilities crowded in on me. I had accepted drinks from this man, what if one of them had been spiked?

But then, why would he tell me what he just had if he had ill intentions?

I shook my head. I was making excuses for him because I wanted him to be honest, I wanted this to be... something. I was more attracted to this man than I had been to anyone since Jack Sanders, the best looking boy in school. But, of course, that hadn't meant that he was a nice guy—Jack had turned out to be a scumbag. A handsome face didn't mean anything. So was I sitting here, desperately desiring a psychotic who was trying to hire me to look after his non-existent children for some ulterior reason? Or... Come to think of it, what was the other option?

If this situation had occurred with any other man then I think I would have just run, but with MacKenzie I had to give him the right of reply, even if it was a dumb thing to do.

"If you haven't got kids," I asked, cautiously, "then why do you want to hire me?"

Mackenzie shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm looking for a mother for my children."

I choked on my mojito, spitting it across the table into the face of the most handsome man I'd ever met.

Get the rest of , out now and free in Kindle Unlimited!

Other Books by Savannah Skye

Her Demon Harem 1 (Succubus Chronicles)

Her Demon Harem 2

A Witch’s Harem

Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem

Her Howling Harem

Her Vampire Harem

Axe to Grind

Breaking Colt

Better to Eat You

Hard Lesson

Hard Sell

Bad Boy Next Door

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