Category: Aimee Easterling’s Excerpts (Page 6 of 10)

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 2

March 7, 2018 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

Did you stumble across this page without reading chapter 1? If so, click here to start at the beginning of Huntress Unleashed.

Five months later…

I loaded the last dirty plate into the industrial-strength dishwasher and exhaled for what felt like the first time in five endless days. It was Friday at 4 pm. Dakota’s pack could catch their own dinner tonight—likely on the hoof, with no cleanup required—and leftovers would tide them over for the rest of the weekend. Which meant I could finally head out to my other life, the two days that made my current gig worthwhile.

“Hey, Ember, save me anything?”

Ryder’s shoulders were so wide that he had to turn slightly to pass through the doorway, and his face was scarred and pitted from the hard life of a member of the regional enforcer’s pack. Still, I smiled rather than cringed as he towered above me. This hard-edged shifter was a softy where it counted and he was always appreciative when I saved him a treat.

To that end, I bent to peer behind a stack of mixing bowls in search of the small tupperware container I’d hidden away from the ravening hordes who blew through the door in search of a snack two hours earlier. “Of course I did,” I told him, then waited as he cracked open the plastic lid to reveal the donut therein.

The scent of licorice and sugar made my nose crinkle in protest, but Ryder rolled the same air around in his mouth like a wine connoisseur. “My favorite,” he rumbled, breaking off a tiny piece between thumb and forefinger and nibbling at the tidbit with all the dignity of a debutante.

He was watching his waistline, he’d explained last month. So he preferred to make this one treat last for days rather than sucking it all down at once the way most wolves would have done. Despite everything—my human not-quite-mate three towns over, the perilous secrets I hid behind my easy-going smile, and my deep-seated aversion to the flavor of licorice—Ryder’s obvious appreciation of well-formed baked goods filled me with an abiding sense of satisfaction.

The zing of awareness as my patience paid off, though, was twice as sweet. “You still on the hunt?” Ryder asked after his Adam’s apple bobbed once to mark the passage of donut bite from mouth to rather flat stomach.

“For my brother?” I asked, heart lifting at the thought that Derek had resurfaced at long last. Because my gut told me that Dakota was the key to finding my missing sibling. And even though I was really here as a mole for my father, I kept hoping Derek might pass through the compound if I waited long enough….

But Ryder’s eyes slid sideways rather than meeting mine head on. “Naw,” he elaborated. “I meant—are you still looking for those pills?”

This time, it was my turn to raise my brows even as I breathed out a cautious “Yeah.” Because I could have understood Ryder coming to me with information regarding Derek’s sentencing. But the current change of tune felt like a trick.

After all, when I’d first asked Ryder about the drugs in question, he’d told me “No can do, pup.” The gift of a licorice-studded scone hadn’t softened his initial stance one bit, and I certainly hadn’t blamed him for the refusal. Not when Dakota doled out her pharmaceutical treats with ruthless efficiency, watching as avidly as any ER nurse to make sure the pills went down the gullet rather than being spit back out into waiting hands.

But perhaps there’d been a policy shift in the interim. Or maybe weekly licorice pastries had worked their magic in a cumulative fashion. Either way, I could barely believe my eyes as three white tablets clanked down onto the counter beside me, one nearly rolling away before it landed at last on its flattened side.

I reached out to nab them, but Ryder’s hand settled atop mine. “Careful, pup. This shit can really fuck you up,” he warned.

The haze of licorice and testosterone surrounding the words tickled my nose into a near-sneeze. But I squashed the urge and instead nodded vigorously, hoping a gestured reply would suffice since I wasn’t quite able to untangle my tongue.

Sure enough, acknowledgement was answer enough. Without another word, Dakota’s second-in-command picked back up his precious donut and ambled out of the kitchen, leaving behind contraband that would not only fuck me up but might actually get us both killed.

Good thing I had a tray of cupcakes on hand to cover up objects that shouldn’t have rightfully been in my possession. Poking a finger into the side of one pastry just beneath the line of frosting, I tucked the pills away in the handy hidey-hole then smoothed the icing back into place. Within seconds, the subterfuge was complete.

No one would have guessed that the pastry originally intended for my house mate was now sullied with illegal narcotics. No one except me and—soon, I hoped—my patiently waiting father.

Click here to head to chapter three in my next post, or download your own copy on the retailer of your choice.

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 1 Scene 2

March 6, 2018 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

Did you miss the first scene? If so, click here to start at the beginning.

Only, of course, it wasn’t. For several seconds, every ounce of concentration I could muster focused upon forcing my lungs to billow and oxygenate my blood. But, at last, I was able to glance at the Tribunal member out of the corner of one eye and consider telling him that his grasp on reality was severely cockeyed.

“With all due respect, sir,” I answered, keeping my eyes carefully lowered so as not to provoke Chamberlain’s ire further, “if you were able to keep Dakota in line, you wouldn’t need me to help you.”

I didn’t expect the Tribunal member to like my answer—no dominant shifter likes to have his weaknesses thrown in his face. Still, I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of his reaction either.

Because before the final word had even left my mouth, Chamberlain’s inner wolf was growling so violently that it drowned out my assertion. Then the stubble on his chin stretched into proto-fur even as his manicured fingernails began lengthening into vicious claws.

Backing away as subtly as I could manage while still maintaining my seat, I decided that I hadn’t broached the subject in the best way after all. We all knew that the balance of power in the region was shaky, that we couldn’t afford risking civil war when one Tribunal member unilaterally squashed the actions of a regional enforcer. Thousands of lives rested in the balance, and Chamberlain was taking a risk even coming to speak with us today.

So, yes, Scary Guy had reason for his hair trigger. Maybe I should have let him maintain a foothold on his fantasy world for just a little while longer….

Luckily, Wolfie was no pissant and our father-daughter bond was fierce. “Back off,” he hissed, rising slightly to tower over the other male. And even though shifter protocol gave Scary Guy the higher rank, Dad’s boldness paid off.

Or maybe Chamberlain just remembered that he was the one asking for a favor this time around. It wasn’t as though there were other innocuous werewolf bakers waiting in the wings ready and willing to take my place.

Either way, the other male subsided gracefully, his aura of danger receding so dramatically that I was finally able to pry my eyeballs off the table and risk another fleeting glance in his general direction. “My mistake,” Chamberlain murmured, the words only moderately laden with a promise to rip my skin from the underlying bones in the near future.

“No offense taken,” I murmured, doing my best to defuse the aggression that inevitably arose when two strong males from different packs were cooped up within the same small room.

Dad was less politic. “So we’re all in agreement,” he summed up. “Ember is willing to infiltrate the pack and find out where the drugs are coming from. Her human partner will be brought in to analyze the chemical composition and determine what can be done to counteract them. But the whole strategy falls apart if Dakota won’t even let my daughter through the door in the first place.”

“So we sweeten the pot,” Scary Guy answered, his tone raising hairs all up and down my arms even though his words were perfectly cordial. “You’re a worried papa who needs Dakota to keep his wayward pup out of trouble with an easy job. And in exchange…”

I sighed, realizing at last what would make the other female willing to deal. “…and in exchange, you give Dakota the acknowledgement she craves. She becomes my alpha, my boss, my handler. Tell her you need the shifter equivalent of boot camp to shape me up. In other words, we let her win.”

And after that, it would all be up to me.

Want to keep reading? Dive straight into chapter 2 in my next post, or download your own copy on the retailer of your choice.

Huntress Unleashed, Chapter 1 Scene 1

March 5, 2018 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

The grand finale of the Wolf Legacy series is now available and I’m about to regale you with the beginning below. But this has spoilers for the entire rest of the series! So if you haven’t read the other three books, I highly recommend you start with Huntress Born and work your way through in order. Enjoy!

***

“I can’t, Dad.”

“You can, Buttercup.”

Across the gleaming conference table, the room’s third occupant cleared this throat, the electricity of an annoyed and extremely powerful shifter permeating the air. But Wolfie and I both ignored our audience, leaning closer in a father-daughter noggin knock we’d perfected when I was a mere pup.

“I’m not saying I won’t try,” I elaborated for both of their sakes. “I will, of course. But Dakota will never let me onto her property, let alone into her pack.”

After all, the female in question was my precise opposite. Left to my own devices, I spent most of my time baking goodies to cheer up friends and family. In contrast, Dakota had been responsible for my cousin’s death, had slaughtered an entire compound of humans, and had taken my only brother into custody where he disappeared without a trace…all within the same week.

Unbeknownst to me, she’d also started selling large quantities of never-before-seen pharmaceuticals to dozens of innocent shifters around the same time period. As the region’s enforcer—the one in charge of making the rules, not breaking them—she might have gotten away with the trick, too…if she hadn’t spread out her net to include the clan I used to call my own.

For an alpha like Wolfie who lived by his duty to protect, finding out that two of his pack mates had become hooked on empathy-squashing medications must have been a punch to the gut. For the other male in the room, who was legally responsible for Dakota’s actions, the female’s power-hungry manipulations came as an even more personal affront.

So this time, it wasn’t just our obliviousness to his presence that brought our companion’s wolf into existence as a shadow beneath his human skin. Instinctively, I ducked my chin down tighter to keep my jugular inside my throat where it belonged. Only then did I close my eyes in total submission, hoping that what I couldn’t see wouldn’t kill me.

Dad wasn’t oblivious to the danger. Still, the entirety of his interest remained fixated upon his only daughter—which is to say, me. “You’ve been through enough already, Ember,” he said, offering me a way out while ignoring the quivering ball of rage at his elbow. “I know this. You know this. If you want to come home and let someone else solve this problem, no one will think any worse of you….”

Wolfie’s voice trailed off hopefully, but I merely pursed my lips and shook my head. No, I couldn’t leave Sebastien’s side, even if the professor didn’t want me present. And I also couldn’t let someone with fewer connections infiltrate Dakota’s pack, only to sit back and watch as the luckless spy failed at her unenviable mission.

The fact that I’d be forced to deal with overbearing alphas like the third inhabitant of the room during the course of my spying was irrelevant.

“I’ll do it,” I repeated when both males seemed to be waiting for a verbal reply. “The only problem is—Dakota and I have history. If I apply for a job with her pack, she’ll laugh in my face then boot me out the door.”

True or not, my words were apparently not what Albert Chamberlain wanted to hear. I’d learned the Tribunal member’s name when Dad introduced us at the beginning of this negotiation, but as the pall of dominance that had been pressing against my cheeks for the last several minutes darkened and deepened, I stuck to the initial assessment I’d made when meeting the older male via video chat two weeks earlier.

His name might be Chamberlain, but to me he would always be Scary Guy.

Now, my shoulders creaked beneath overwhelming pressure as the male spat out words intended to bring our discussion to an abrupt close. “Dakota will welcome you if I tell her to,” Scary Guy retorted. And that, he figured was that.

Want to keep reading? You can move on to scene 2 here, or download your own copy on the retailer of your choice.

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Rogue Huntress: Chapter 3

December 2, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

If you missed the first two chapters, please start here.

Unfortunately, our mate bond returned to its former state of noncompliance within the hour. I’d shifted back into human form as soon as we lost sight of the police barricade, but furless lips proved far less capable than lupine skin at bridging the chasm I’d recently created between myself and my mate.

“Can you tell me about Dakota? Is she a criminal, a loose cannon, or someone with full blessing of the shifter government?” Sebastien asked, his words more tentative than they had any right to be. Because he was my mate. He shouldn’t have had to nibble around the edges of these enigmas like a lone wolf seeking a hole in a clan’s defensive perimeter.

Still…. “I can’t,” I told him honestly, knowing even as I spoke that my companion would instead hear: “I won’t.”

The trouble was—the shifters hunting us would execute Sebastien if they thought he possessed even a fraction of the information I’d already let slip. Tonight, we were heading toward a safe house where we could rest and lick our wounds for the foreseeable future. But we could only hide out there for so long. Eventually, I’d need to reenter shifter society and Sebastien would go back to his ordinary life…at which point the professor’s remaining naivety might be the only armor protecting his tender human skin.

I couldn’t say any of that, though, without risking the precise ignorance I was trying to nurture. So we drove in silence for another endless hour, the sweetness of cake donuts gradually disappearing beneath the scent of my mate’s bitter frustration. And then, finally, Sebastien proved his tenacity by opening his mouth yet again.

“Ember, I know you’re tired,” the professor murmured even as he skillfully followed the GPS’s directions and turned onto the tree-lined driveway leading toward our final destination. “But sometime soon, we need to talk….”

Meanwhile, his hand drifted down to settle upon my bare knee, ruining any impulse I might have harbored to keep him safely at arm’s length. Warmth, contact, precious unity. When we were physically touching, I could almost believe that Sebastien and I might find a way to make this unconventional relationship work against all odds. Could almost believe that the professor’s lack of an inner wolf wasn’t an impassable hurdle too tall for me to overcome. Almost….

But then the SUV ground to a halt in front of a large white porch and my mate’s calloused fingers slipped aside so he could shift the vehicle into park. Reality asserted itself like a slap in the face and I peered down at my burner phone in an unlikely attempt to change the subject.

Not that I expected rescue from that direction. After all, Sebastien and I had ditched our own personal devices hours ago in an attempt to prevent both sets of pursuers from tracing us to our current lair. The only person I’d contacted using this replacement phone had been my father…

…Who, true to form, had performed the hazardous errand I’d requested of him with ruthless alacrity. “Dad found it,” I breathed, excitement revving up blood that had slowed to near hibernation levels as we approached a safe place to spend the night.

“Found your brother?” Sebastien demanded, interest in our previous line of discussion fading as he leaned forward to read over my shoulder.

“The key was under the egg compartment as expected,” Dad informed us. “Decoding Derek’s message now. More information to follow.”

Wolfie’s message was terse yet welcome. And, in response to the good news, the mate tether that had hung lax and ungainly between me and Sebastien only a moment earlier tightened up, relaying similar emotions emanating from the other end of the bond.

My mate was exhausted after spending more than twenty-four hours avoiding guns and bombs and dangerous enemies. He was understandably wary of the secrets I continued hugging to my chest like a miser. But Sebastien was also committed to finding and protecting my kid brother while keeping me close by his side.

So I hadn’t blown it after all.

Breathing easily for the first time in hours, I pushed open the car door even as the professor accepted our truce with equal willingness. He hefted our stolen rifle onto his shoulder and slipped out the opposite side of the SUV, mouth remaining blissfully shut in the process.

Sebastien was ready for anything and was willing to follow my lead even when lacking the explanations he so roundly deserved. Perhaps that meant I should trust him with information about our mate bond, if nothing else. After all, how could the Tribunal possibly expect me to keep secret a physical connection Sebastien and I already shared, one that impacted every step we took and every thought that filtered through our brains?

Later, I decided, acknowledging my own cowardice even as I succumbed to it. Then I led my mate out of the darkness and into the light, entering a building where the nation’s strongest werewolves forged deals and stabbed each other in the backs.

Our safe haven was, perhaps, not so entirely safe after all.

Don’t miss the rest of the story in Rogue Huntress!

Rogue Huntress: Chapter 2

December 1, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

If you missed chapter 1, please start here. Otherwise, keep reading to see how Ember and Sebastien deal with their police roadblock….

***

But we were given little leeway to worry about that worst-case scenario. Because the vehicle three cars in front of us pulled away with a grind of unhappy gears, leaving the uniformed female free to leapfrog her compatriots and stalk toward our waiting SUV. “Driver’s license and registration,” she demanded, eyes narrowing as she took in Sebastien’s nearly imperceptible hesitation to obey.

So Sebastien was aware of our current danger despite the dulling effects of hours of driving combined with a severe deficit of sleep. I relaxed back onto my haunches even as my mate hastened to fumble through paperwork in the glove compartment, giving the officer no further reason to doubt his good intent. “It’s right here,” he murmured. “I just need a minute to get it out….”

Meanwhile, a wordless plan filtered from my companion down our mate bond so clearly it might as well have been a movie playing in my mind. Sebastien planned to charm the cop, to charm her then to sidetrack her with…donuts?

I glanced down at the floorboards between us where a half-empty box of pastries lay tucked nearly out of view. Sebastien must have stopped to load up on sugar as I dozed away the journey. And while I appreciated his selection—all chocolate all the way—I didn’t see how rings of fried dough were going to get us out of this roadblock without relinquishing more information than we cared to divulge. Only in cartoons could cops be lured away from the scene of a crime with a donut dangling from the end of a homemade fishing pole….

I couldn’t guess at Sebastien’s end game, but the first stages were clear in my mind. My lap, he murmured silently, actual words coming down the tether this time around. And I obeyed without question. Wriggling between the steering wheel and the professor’s rock-hard chest, I stretched upwards to lick sloppily at my human partner’s stubbled chin.

To my surprise, the cop’s professional mask broke into a girlish smile at the display. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?” the female asked as Sebastien pretended to wrestle me aside in an attempt to reach the wallet sticking halfway out of his back pocket. I expected the policewoman to succumb to impatience as the two of us engaged in a dance so intricately intertwined that it might as well have been choreographed. But instead, the woman merely added: “How old is she?”

“Old enough to know better,” my mate grumbled, his feigned embarrassment enough to force a real whine from my lupine lips. But while my animal half cringed at the counterfeit reproof, my rational human side was beginning to get an inkling of Sebastien’s plan at long last.

Because there was a hint of canine tang to the officer’s nearby clothing. She owned pets—a neutered male and a spayed female dog if I had to guess. Which meant….

“How about we just start with your name?” the policewoman prodded, pulling out the computer I’d hoped would somehow manage to slip from her fingers and shatter onto the pavement before she got ahold of our registration. Half of me thought that a cute and cuddly “dog” could perhaps be forgiven for lunging forward and prompting precisely that chain of events, but…

…Donut, the professor repeated for the second time that evening. And now I understood what Sebastien wanted with sublime clarity. His plan was not only brilliant, it was also tasty. Given that perfect combination of metaphorical and literal good taste, I gladly moved to oblige.

Down onto the floor mat went my two front paws, up into the air went the top of the cardboard box, sliding into my mouth went the first donut out of six. Yum, chocolaty goodness, I thought, barking out a yip of crumbs and excitement even as I swallowed the sweet concoction in one great gulp. Donut, my wolf agreed, her voice silent yet smug.

And as my psychology-professor mate had predicted, the female cop was far less sanguine about the encounter than I was. Losing track of words, job, and even that dratted computer, the female nearly fell through the window in an effort to snag a collar that wasn’t actually present around my furry throat.

“A dog can’t eat chocolate!” the cop roared as she landed half in and half out of the vehicle.

The struggle that ensued was as amusing as it was edifying. Sebastien twisted and turned so artfully that he managed to come up with no more than a handful of fur despite the fact I hadn’t moved out of his way quickly enough to prevent being caught. Then I was scampering in seamless synchrony, scarfing down donuts until a mere dog would have required the fast action of a vet.

With every bite on my part, the female cop’s eyes grew rounder and her efforts to halt my feasting increased in intensity. “We have to stop her! Now!” the woman gasped.

Her elbow came in contact with Sebastien’s jaw as she struggled to catch the tip of my tail. And pain ricocheted down the mate bond so severely I froze for a split second to ensure Sebastien hadn’t been seriously harmed.

Luckily, the accidental contact had produced only a glancing blow…which hadn’t, I now noticed, prevented my mate from assembling an impressive array of props to finish setting the scene for our deception. Insurance and registration papers lay face up on the dashboard while a driver’s license had slid halfway out of the open wallet on the professor’s left knee. Together, the lineup of documentation proved we weren’t breaking any laws…but at the same time, Sebastien had made it abundantly clear that typing our data into one of those portable computers wasn’t going to be worthy of anyone’s time and attention.

To ensure the law-enforcement officer got the message, Sebastien cleared his throat and looked the policewoman directly in the eyes. “I just need to start driving,” he explained breathlessly. “Ember knows to settle down once I get the SUV into gear….”

For my part, I continued to wreak as much havoc as possible. Tearing into the cardboard box the donuts had come in, I chewed up a piece that did taste significantly better than it looked due to the saturation of sweets and oil. So that’s why the average dog continued consuming wrappings after running out of the food inside….

And maybe it was the cardboard that did it. Whatever the reason, our ploy worked at last. “Go,” the lady cop told us, stepping backwards without another glance at papers that would have blown our cover wide open. She waved us onto the shoulder so we could bypass the pickup truck parked in front of us, then called out a final word of advice as we rolled away. “The vet on Third Street is open until seven….”

“Thank you!” Sebastien answered, reaching over to settle his warm hand atop my furry forehead. True to the image filtering down the bond toward me, I’d settled obediently into the passenger seat as soon as the vehicle slipped into gear. Now, I smeared the passenger window with my nose as I barked a farewell to the trio of watching cops.

And that’s how my mate and I circumvented a police roadblock armed with nothing more than a boxful of chocolate cake donuts. Our weapon of choice—and ability to work in tandem—were almost unbearably sweet.

Click here to dive straight into chapter 3….

Rogue Huntress: Chapter 1

November 30, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

If you’ve been reading along with Ember’s adventures, I hope you’re as excited as I am to see what she gets up to in book three. But if you’re new, these chapters will definitely contain spoilers. So you’ll want to start your adventure with Huntress Born. Enjoy!

***

Shifter teeth, human blood, glints of ivory against ravaged skin. I woke, gasping against the restraints that snugged limbs tight against my body, only to find my lupine form swaddled by ungainly human clothing. The pants and shirt had fit perfectly when I first fell asleep and would again as soon as I….

“Ember, don’t shift back!”

My mate’s voice cut through the haze of returning reality, his deep tones underlain by the sweet scents of chocolate cake donuts combined with his personal bouquet of books, sandalwood, and wolfless man. Blinking watery eyes against the soft light of evening, I wriggled out of no-longer-useful clothing and came erect on all four paws in the passenger seat of my deceased cousin’s SUV.

Before us, three cops walked down a line of stopped vehicles toward us. A tough-looking woman, a guy so skinny he verged on emaciated, and the stereotypical donut eater. They didn’t look particularly menacing, but….

“Wolves or humans?” Sebastien asked, his voice filling with grim urgency. And despite the necessity to focus on current danger, the question sent me spinning backwards into a memory so vivid it might as well have been a continuation of my recent dream.

Blood sprayed across my body like the fine mist from a malfunctioning juicer, my cousin’s form disappearing within a maelstrom of spinning stones and chunks of ripped-apart asphalt. Sebastien slammed me into the ground to protect my fragile body. But my companion couldn’t block the sight of an exploding bomb taking out both a government compound and a family member I’d known for my entire life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of a thin line of night-darkened trees, Dakota’s pack howled a promise that no innocent bystanders would survive the ordeal. None except me and my not-quite-mate….

Not that Sebastien and I had been entirely innocent by the time we fled the scene of the crime. We’d slain four werewolves during the course of our own escape, and now both angry government agents and surly shifters were hot on our trail.

These advancing officers could be either or neither, another danger to overcome or merely one final roadblock on our path to a safe spot to spend the night. It was impossible to tell which while the SUV’s encircling metal cut off all outside air….

I whined and pawed at the side window, hoping Sebastien would understand my wordless plea. All day long I’d dodged his questions, this most recent descent into lupine form a symptom of my subconscious desire to shut out the relentless, if polite, interrogation that had flowed from the professor’s lips for hours on end. Going to sleep then donning fur had solved that problem at last. But now my lupine form meant I couldn’t communicate using much-needed human words. All I had was wolf skin and wide eyes that failed to convey the intensity of my distress.

Only, the fickle bond that had proven no more than a liability for most of the preceding day must have clicked into gear while I slept. Because glass slid down without the necessity of words and air whooshed in to fill the space around me. I inhaled deeply then sighed out my relief. Humans. Dakota’s lackeys hadn’t found us quite yet.

Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived. Even though no werewolves waited in the wings, these cops each wielded a hand-held computer into which they were keying other drivers’ identifying information. Unconsciously, my ears pinned back while a whimper emerged from my furry throat.

SHRITA can’t find out we’re here.

If given a choice between SHRITA and shifters, I have to admit that I would have chosen the wolves. Because government agents were remarkably effective despite lacking claws and fangs. They’d kidnapped my mate yesterday, had been implicated in the disappearance of my brother weeks before that, and might even now be hunting Sebastien if anyone managed to survive last night’s bloodbath.

SHRITA also possessed full access to police databases. As a result, I couldn’t let the professor’s driver’s license fall into these police officers’ waiting hands.

I tried sending that knowledge down the tether that tied me and Sebastien together. Tried…and failed as the phantom thread slipped away from my searching muzzle and disappeared into the void that kept us resolutely apart.

Sebastien might have been able to guess that I wanted the window rolled down seconds earlier, but he wasn’t receiving my far more important transmission now. And how could I expect him to when our mate bond hung as loosey-goosey between us as a pan of uncooked custard?

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Rogue Huntress: Cut scene

October 22, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

I’ve been doing a bit of slicing and dicing this week as I smooth my current work in progress into a more streamlined form. Usually, excised portions of a novel aren’t worth sharing because they were cut for a reason — boring! But this small flashback merely marred the flow, and I thought you might enjoy seeing it here since it won’t show up in the final book. Don’t worry if you haven’t read the rest of the series yet. Ember is looking back to a time before Huntress Born begins, so you won’t spoil anything with the read. Enjoy!

***

Sunlight streamed in large windows while my bare feet relaxed against the supportive chill of a well-maintained tile floor. When last I’d entered the Pinnacle kitchen, I’d been playing hide and seek with my now-deceased cousin, trespassing where I didn’t belong. The resident chef’s brows had risen as a much younger me slid into the cavity beneath the sink, and the long knife in his dominant hand waved like the swaying hood of a cobra.

“What is a pup doing here?” the shifter had demanded, a hint of alpha bite invading his tone. And even though no one else had initially noticed my approach, chopping and chattering now ceased throughout the kitchen as every gaze arrowed in on my huddled form.

“Hiding,” I whispered, less concerned about the chef’s thinly veiled threat than about my cousin’s imminent approach. Malachi had found me the last four times I’d been the pretend prey and he’d teased me mercilessly as a result. This time, I resolved to beat him at his favorite game no matter what it took. Which meant the chef needed to get off his high horse and quiet down.

“As well you should be,” the chef answered, misunderstanding my one-word reply. “Every alpha in the Pinnacle would eat you for breakfast then use your finger bones as toothpicks if they found you here. Skedaddle, pup. Go home to your mommy.”

The male finished off his speech with a broad smile, exposing teeth that had sharpened ever so slightly with the rise of his inner wolf. Both animal and man were enjoying this showdown, were looking forward to the first whiff of urine as I peed my pants in terror.

But I was the beloved child of Wolfie Young. There was nothing for me to fear even when surrounded by the strongest alphas the country had to offer. One high-handed chef definitely wasn’t going to get a rise out of me.

So I merely rolled my eyes as I spat out a reply intended to annoy. “Are you really such a bad cook that your customers have to eat little children instead? Maybe you should use a recipe next time.”

Triumphantly, I curled my lips back off teeth just as sharp as those of my opponent. And as undercooks and dishwashers gasped in surprise, Malachi ruined my moment of triumph. Slipping in the door, my cousin murmured, “Gotcha,” and watched me wilt back down to the pup I really was.

Now, my adult self shook off the haze of memory and pondered the irony of the now-empty kitchen before me. I was back in the Alphas’ Pinnacle, hiding away in the massive retreat complex’s kitchen once again. Only this time around, the alphas who had fondly overlooked my childhood games were hunting me with blood in their eyes.

Time, I decided, for cake.

Huntress Bound: Chapter 3

September 27, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

If you’re just tuning in, this excerpt will probably make more sense if you start at the beginning….

I should have realized that my wolf hadn’t surrendered to my earlier admonitions. She was merely biding her time and waiting for the right moment in which to strike.

Now, as exhaustion rounded my shoulders while the lack of nearby family gnawed at my gut, my inner beast grabbed the reins out of my tired fingers. Pushing open the bedroom door with human hands, she drew us toward what she considered the solution to all of our problems—a session of snuggling with our recently bonded mate.

And I’ll admit it—I didn’t really resist. After all, the day felt like it had lasted for an eternity, and the steady susurrus of Sebastien’s breathing drew us forward like flames entice a moth. So my wolf and I were united as we passed through the dimly lit corridor, pausing only after we were able to peer greedily upon our mate’s enticing body.

He was asleep. Sacked out on the sofa with one arm wrapped around a cushion and the opposite leg visible atop the thin blanket that he’d fallen asleep beneath. Resting, the professor’s scent was less intense than usual, but also more complex. Old books and brilliant sunshine filled my nostrils, and beneath that came the merest hint of slippery elm.

Then I lost track of rational thought as my own inner beast subsumed me yet deeper beneath her control. Shedding shirt, underwear, and borrowed pants alike, we slipped into our lupine skin as seamlessly as a fish dives beneath the surface of a pond. Mate, the wolf whispered silently inside our combined body, raising her snout to nuzzle at Sebastien’s stubbled cheek. Ours.

The professor sneezed as our eyelashes brushed up against his nostrils. But although he stirred, he didn’t wake. Instead, the human merely pressed his back further up against the sofa cushions as if welcoming us into his personal space.

My wolf needed no further encouragement. Leaping onto the sofa as lightly as any house cat crept onto an off-limits kitchen counter, she settled in beside the slumberer. Then, my own nature squashed beneath her stronger will, we all three fell soundly asleep.

***

I woke to the distant tolling of a doorbell, and for one split second I forgot where I was. My dreams had been redolent with sensations—scent, sound, and even the heady tingle of hands sliding across naked skin. Claiming moon, my wolf whispered, reminding me that we had, at long last, discovered our mate.

Of course, Sebastien hadn’t yet discovered us back. Still, when I opened my eyes, I granted both woman and wolf time to soak up his tantalizing presence. Surely we possessed enough leeway for such a small indulgence as that.

Together, my inner beast and I basked in Sebastien’s beauty. Dark stubble coated the professor’s jaw, but the shadow only made him appear stronger rather than unkempt. A wisp of sable hair lay across one high cheekbone, and it was all I could do not to stretch out my neck and nose the tendril aside. Meanwhile, twitching orbs beneath his eyelids proved that the professor was still deeply asleep.

Our mate was just as enticing in daylight as he’d been beneath the moon last night. But the color of the pillow was oddly muted while the medley of scents swirling between us threatened to overwhelm my human mind. And, gradually, I remembered succumbing to the unthinkable—cuddling up beside a one-body in the skin of my wolf.

My location, unfortunately, wasn’t the only problem marring the morning’s tranquility. Voices carried in from outside the house, too soft for me to make out individual words but with their inherent tension abundantly clear. Then fists hit the door in a cacophony that was bound to wake my resting bed-mate sooner rather than later. Time was quickly running out.

Sure enough, Sebastien stirred at last, his arm tightening around my middle as he came gradually awake. And I knew even as my mate hugged me that I wouldn’t make it out of the room without being sighted if I remained in lupine form. Which meant it was time to shift.

After all, waking beside an unexpectedly naked woman is better than opening your eyes onto the snarling visage of a wolf…right?

My inner beast didn’t entirely agree. She argued that we wouldn’t snarl. Would instead lick and tease and make nice. Still, she allowed the transformation at last, helping me shed my fur and regain my skin in the end.

Our internal debate had slowed the shift, though. So we had only a split second to spare before Sebastien’s eyelids lifted, his face widening into a sleepy smile that skewered my wolf and me both with its tenderness.

“Ember, sweetheart,” he murmured, his hand rising to trail across my bedhead even as his lips parted to breathe out my name along with an endearment that melted my human side into a sticky pile of saccharine goo.

Luckily for the sake of both of our skins, my wolf was less susceptible to words. Predators outside, she reminded me, forcing us to wriggle out of our mate’s willing arms and rise onto our human feet.

And as we came erect, Sebastien woke more fully as well. I saw the moment his rational brain won out over his instincts. Saw when he took in my completely unclad nature, noted his eyes roaming from my still grubby feet up to my erect nipples before landing on my reddening face.

Our companion liked what he saw—I could smell his simple animal attraction swirling around my own. But, at the same time, he was uneasy about the fact that I’d ended up in his bed uninvited like some sort of stalker girlfriend.

The fact I wasn’t even his girlfriend made the whole thing ten times worse.

“Ember…” my mate began, brow furrowing as his scent turned bitter and harsh. But even in human form, I could make out the sound of footsteps moving around the side of the house, suggesting that Sebastien’s annoyance was the least of our current worries. Any minute now, whoever had been pounding on the front door would break into the back. At which point we’d both be sunk.

Looks like you were right, little brother, I thought. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. I really should have fried that laptop when I had the chance….

Then, turning to my mate, I voiced my subsequent thought aloud. “Do you have any files on your computer that you absolutely can’t live without?”

Wolf-like, Sebastien cocked his head to one side in question. He hadn’t heard the men at the door, didn’t realize that we were already operating on borrowed time. In fact, I got the distinct impression he wasn’t going to let me out of the room without a long-winded conversation neither of us had time for.

So I instead pushed a little compulsion into my words as I commanded: “Tell me.”

“No,” my mate answered, his frown deepening so dramatically that I thought the wrinkles might cut their way into his very bones. “I back up everything onto the cloud….”

Even as he obeyed my request, though, I could see Sebastien’s scientific interest being piqued by my lapse into werewolfism. Further questions would certainly be piling up within my mate’s analytical mind just as they had the day before.

But I didn’t have time to indulge him. Instead, I snagged my discarded clothing then hightailed it back toward the professor’s unoccupied bedroom even as I cast my reply over one naked shoulder.

“Great,” I answered. “In that case, I apologize in advance. Answer the door, delay them as long as possible, and I’ll be back after your visitors have left the premises.”

Want to know what happens to Ember and Sebastien? Keep reading in Huntress Bound!

Huntress Bound: Chapter 2

September 26, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

In case you missed it, you can read chapter 1 here.

With surprisingly few words, my host dug up an old pair of sweat pants then showed me into his bedroom. After that, he closed a far-too-solid door between us, flicking off the hall light and relegating himself to the couch.

Which left me trembling on the brink, fighting against my wolf’s desire to slip back through the darkened building and weasel my way into the absent human’s waiting arms.

“Totally inappropriate,” I chided my alter-ego, forcing our feet to turn away from the barrier. She countered with a memory of yesterday’s kiss, which—I in turn reminded her—had occurred in front of strangers and had never been repeated since. Plus, by human standards, a peck on the hand gave me no right to turn up on my mate’s doorstep after midnight, let alone insinuate myself into his belated slumber. Despite rocking my world, Sebastien’s lips had never even touched my face.

My wolf growled quietly but allowed me to turn aside in order to peruse our mate’s inner sanctum instead. Unlike his office back at the college, this room was neat as a pin, the bed freshly made and clothing all tucked away into drawers. Only two areas spoke to the professor’s recent attention—a desk cluttered with papers in one corner of the abode and a workbench dotted with wood shavings and carving paraphernalia at the other.

I was tempted to see what kind of art Sebastien had chosen to create. But nosing aimlessly through his belongings wasn’t what I’d come for. Instead, I perched on the hard wooden chair in front of the professor’s desk and opened the laptop that sat waiting on the otherwise empty expanse.

It felt strangely disloyal to borrow hardware without permission, vaguely like the lie Sebastien had made me promise not to tell. Still, I reasoned that my mate would neither know nor care that I’d plugged in a simple thumb drive and perused the contents using his keyboard and monitor. It wasn’t as if I planned to comb through my mate’s data; I just needed the loan of his equipment to discover what my brother had so carefully squirreled away.

Conscience sated, I inserted my brother’s data-storage device into its slot and hastily plugged in a pair of headphones as well when Derek’s face filled the laptop’s screen. “I don’t have much time,” my brother whispered, the view jiggling erratically as he speed walked down a corridor while filming himself on his cell phone. The younger male was entering the bay of PO boxes where I’d found this thumb drive, I realized. Meanwhile, the time stamp at the bottom of the screen matched the date when my brother’s social media accounts had gone so abruptly dark. Perhaps I was about to discover the clue that would lead me toward Derek’s current location?

Unfortunately, whatever had happened all those weeks ago must not have been good. Because my brother was obviously scared at the time of filming, sweat beading on his forehead as he glanced back over one shoulder rather than looking directly into the camera. “They’ll be here any minute,” Derek continued, voice muffled by the angle of his head. “I just hope I have time to drop off the key where you can find it so this whole thing doesn’t turn into a complete waste of time.”

I clenched my fists in frustration. Even in his desperation, my brother remained unbelievably vague. Who would be there at any minute? And had this video been intended for me or for someone else within his intensely private life? The truth was, Derek had never even let slip the name of a single friend, so I had no idea who else he might be addressing.

My questions remained unanswered, but my brother did drop a few additional hints. “If you’re watching this,” he said, “then I’ve probably disappeared off the face of the Lupanet. In which case, just watching this video might put you at risk. If you’re connected to the internet right now, disconnect, copy the contents of this thumb drive someplace safe, then destroy both the computer and thumb drive. Right now. I mean it.”

“Paranoid much?” I countered even as I hastened to obey Derek’s instructions. Well, not the destroying part. I wasn’t going to ruin my mate’s hardware without his permission. And even though Derek had gone missing, I didn’t quite believe the mere act of plugging a thumb drive into a laptop put me and Sebastien at risk.

Still, I transferred files onto my phone’s SD card as the video continued to roll. Derek had entered the chamber of PO boxes by that point, his fingers fumbling with a key in the near darkness. “Don’t follow me without backup,” the male whispered, glancing over his shoulder as the barest echo of a slamming door carried through my tinny speakers. My brother swore, hesitated, then spoke directly into the camera once again.

“Sebastien Carter is a good egg. If you need help, go to him.”

Then the screen went dark. No indication of what Derek planned to do or where he intended to go. No data on whether he’d been snatched up or had made good on his escape and disappeared back into the anonymity of the city proper.

Well, that wasn’t quite right. I’d discovered the key to the PO box miles from my present location in a national forest where werewolves frequently hunted. Which meant my brother had made it off the college campus unscathed during the night in question…although who knew what had happened thereafter.

Transfer complete, the computer reported, breaking into my increasingly circular thoughts. I double-clicked on a few files, found strings of numbers and letters that my tired brain refused to comprehend. It was definitely time to call it a night.

Still, Derek had been single-mindedly intent upon his paranoia. So after sliding the SD card back into my phone, I carried the thumb drive into the bathroom and dropped it into a mouthwash bottle to deteriorate. Then I powered Sebastien’s computer all the way down, the room around me growing dark and still in an instant.

Finally, I sank back onto my mate’s bed, the day’s events crashing over me in a wave of exhaustion. I was alone with my wolf, my thoughts, and a hole in my belly that reminded me I was no longer part of any pack. What kind of werewolf hunted entirely alone?

Read chapter 3 here. Or dive right into the entire book here.

Huntress Bound: Chapter 1

September 25, 2017 / Aimee Easterling / 0 Comments

Ready for a peek into Huntress Bound? As a reminder, you’ll enjoy this book much more if you read Huntress Born first. That caveat aside…let’s dive right in!

I stood in Sebastien’s foyer and assessed my current predicament.

Unwitting mate who had no idea I was a werewolf? Check.

Tenuous permission to hunt for my brother within another clan’s territory? Check.

Cupcake from my beloved father to be eaten when I found a safe harbor? Check.

Pants? Okay, so I’d lost that one small item somewhere along the way. But otherwise, I seemed to be all set.

With everything else accounted for, I gazed up into my mate’s molten chocolate eyes and acted more bold than I felt. “Do you think,” I asked a human who I’d only met a few days earlier, “I could spend the night on your sofa?”

Sebastien’s scent gradually shifted as he looked me up and down, gladness at my unexpected arrival giving way to the first inkling of doubt as reality stretched out between us. And I had to admit that he had grounds for misgivings. After all, it was roughly one o’clock in the morning and I’d spent the last hour running through the city in lupine form. So in addition to those missing trousers, my feet were filthy, my hair was tangled, and I looked very much like my inner beast felt—exhilarated, tired, and very much wild.

I’d apparently chosen well, though, when I bound myself to this particular human in a fit of intense desperation earlier in the evening. Because the professor merely nodded and showed me inside, nuking a mug of water plus tea bag in the microwave before joining me on the sofa. Being cared for felt really good…so I squashed my inner chef’s urge to cringe at the irregular brewing method and instead settled in to enjoy the experience.

And, once again, Sebastien proved himself far more insightful than I’d expected. “Tea is healthier when you make it this way,” my companion explained professorially as he handed over the vessel. “More theanine and polyphenol. Try it.”

Obediently, I lifted the mug while struggling against my wolf’s impulse to scoot closer to our host so our skin might touch. The liquid was hot and aromatic, and my inner beast quieted as we discovered that our mate was right. The brew was tasty. Perhaps science won out over tradition after all…at least in this one specific case.

Unfortunately, Sebastien’s methodical mind wasn’t willing to let my unconventional appearance slide by without further comment. “Are you in trouble?” he asked when the silence between us had lengthened considerably. And even though the topic wasn’t one I’d hoped to broach tonight, the gravelly rumble of my companion’s voice was enough to make my inner wolf whimper with delight.

On the other hand, my human self was the one carrying on our end of this particular conversation, and I had no answer to the questions that were surely running through Sebastien’s mind as quickly as possible answers were streaming through mine. Should I explain away my pants-less arrival by saying I’d fallen out of a moving car and torn my clothing on the pavement? Been vomited upon by a drunken party-goer before tossing the sullied fabric? Lost my clothes in an ill-fated poker match? Was there any semi-believable explanation at all other than the fully implausible truth?

“Should I call the police?” Sebastien continued when I failed to so much as nod or shake my head in reply to his earlier question. “If somebody hurt you….”

And there was that wolf-like possessiveness I knew and loved. My mouth quirked up on one side as Sebastien’s aroma shifted yet again, this time turning steely and dangerous in response to thoughts about an imaginary tormentor.

No, Sebastien hadn’t chosen me as his mate when given the chance. Didn’t, in fact, possess a single clue about what a werewolf mate bond consisted of or that he’d become entangled in one against his will. But my companion did worry that I’d been harmed, and that concern soothed my lupine soul.

So I hastened to return the favor. “Nobody hurt me. I promise,” I answered, trying to figure out what else I could tell Sebastien without risking either of our skins. After all, despite being my not-quite-mate, the professor was still a human who wasn’t allowed to learn about shifter-kind under penalty of death. That particular sword of Damocles definitely put a damper on what I was willing and able to share.

I must have hesitated a bit too long. Because before I could come up with any answer at all, Sebastien cut me off. He sighed, pursed his lips, then let me off the hook. “You can’t tell me. I understand.”

He didn’t understand, though. Not really. Our mate bond wasn’t yet fully functional, but proximity still granted me a window into my companion’s thought processes. Via our half-formed tether, I could tell that the professor was confused, puzzled, disappointed…and that he also halfway believed he’d opened up his home to a mafia member whose family would invade with guns blazing before the night was out.

The mere notion startled words from my lips that I wished I could take back as soon as they’d been uttered. “I’m not a gangster,” I told him…only to realize a second too late that an ordinary human wouldn’t have been granted that trickle of insight into her companion’s thoughts.

In an effort to cover my butt, I segued straight into the first semi-believable lie that came to mind. “I wasn’t paying attention earlier, and I got stuck in an auto-locking door,” I started, warming to my tale as it spun out around me. “I would have told you when you first asked, but the result was just plain embarrassing. The door snagged on my pants as I was going out the back of a bar downtown, and I couldn’t figure out how to tear the fabric loose or get anyone’s attention. That place was so loud—it was crazy. So I wriggled my way out of my trousers and came here rather than walking bare-butted through the fray. Really, there’s no reason to call the police. I’m not hurt. I just need a place to stay for the night.”

I paused, then added, “And maybe the loan of a pair of pants.”

For half a second, I thought my mate had bought into my lie. After all, the tale didn’t involve supernatural beings or invisible bonds—surely it was more convincing than the truth?

But then Sebastien shook his head, chocolate eyes hardening into sharp-edged flint. “You can spend the night and borrow some pants,” he offered. “But please don’t lie to me again.”

Read chapter 2 here. Or click here to get your own copy of Huntress Bound.