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Book 1[/et_pb_text][et_pb_image admin_label=”Image” src=”https://www.krystalshannan.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/WerewolfCowboy2.jpg” show_in_lightbox=”off” url_new_window=”off” use_overlay=”off” animation=”off” sticky=”off” align=”left” force_fullwidth=”off” always_center_on_mobile=”on” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”] [/et_pb_image][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” background_layout=”light” text_orientation=”left” use_border_color=”off” border_color=”#ffffff” border_style=”solid”]
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THE WEREWOLF COWBOY
There’s a new threat in town… and she’s sexier and more dangerous than this sheriff can handle.
Small town sheriff, Allan VonBrandt, would like nothing more than to focus only on his work and not on the leggy and irresistible brunette who won’t take no for an answer. But when fate steps in and his inner wolf won’t refuse the magick pull she has on him, Allan must confront his animalistic desires–whether he wants to or not.
Reyna DuBois has never met a man–or wolf–she can’t tame, but Allan just might be the stubborn exception to the rule. Refusing to give up, Reyna enlists the help of her inner wolf to seduce the ever-reluctant sheriff, promising this particular cowboy the ride of his life.
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The scent of a strange wolf lingered over Everyday Joe’s bar like invisible fog. Allan VonBrandt held up one hand and halted the two deputies who had come along as backup.
“I’ll handle this one alone, boys.” He pulled his cowboy hat down to the edge of his brow. His damn brother had promised him there wouldn’t be any trouble, but with four families of wolves in town for the weekend, he should have known.
He pushed through the narrow door. The dance floor was empty, and the bar was dead, except for a crowd of drunk cowboys tossing punches over near the mechanical bull.
The lights had been turned down for the night crowd and the neon signs were the only significant illumination. He nodded at the staff huddled around the bar.
“Y’all stay out of sight, now. I’ll handle this mess.” He crunched over broken glass and hooked one thumb around his holster.
Five big cowboys in flannel shirts and Wranglers traded punches under one of the flashing beer signs. Allan whistled, and the cowboys looked up, drunk questions on their lips.
“What the damn hell is goin’ on here?” Allan asked, but punches kept landing from some other dark corner. He turned in a quick circle, looking for the source of the noise.
Suddenly, a Wranglered body flew over the mechanical bull and crashed into one of the dimly lit cowboys, knocking him to the ground.
“Stop!” Allan moved around the bull, into the half-dark just as the legs of a chair whipped into the air and another Wrangler-clad ass went sailing out the other side of the mechanical bull.
Allan took a deep breath and growled, “I said stop.”
Out of the shadowed corner, the figure froze, but the chair continued to move. It sailed out of her hands, out of sight, and off to his left, he heard the unmistakable crack of something giant and glass shattering into a thousand pieces.
How had he known it was a woman? Scent?
She’s the wolf.
Maybe he’d known since he first smelled her, but he had also seen curves and the briefest flash of hair, moving in a way only a woman’s could.
The inhale of her breath broke their silence. “Shit.” She dropped her hands.
All of the cowboys clamored at once. Various rounds of “I didn’t do it” and “It was her.”
Allan couldn’t take his eyes off the wolf. His heartbeat crept up, faster and faster, until he felt his breath coming quicker. “Everyone shut up.” He backed out of the circle, keeping his eye on the wolf. “Or you’re all going to jail.”
She matched his slow steps, coming toward him and into the light. Her dark hair swayed behind her, side to side, almost past her waist. Her white-blue frostbite eyes pinned him and her nostrils flared.
The strong spice of magick snaked through the air and caught him by the throat. He swallowed against his response, against the coursing blood and the heated breath, against the loss of control.
Allan broke the stare-down and snarled at the cowboys, “Someone tell me what the hell happened here. Right now.”
Cowboy One pointed at the wolf. “She started it.”
“She broke a bottle on me.” Cowboy Two swiped at the glass Allan had walked through, then flashed a bloody gash on the side of his hand.
“All he did was ask her to dance,” said Cowboy Three, nodding at the jukebox. “Skynrd was on. It’s our thing.”
On top of the jukebox, the discarded chair rested in a pile of glass shards. Something had been hanging up there, and the chair had obviously shattered it and brought it crashing down. Allan couldn’t remember what had been there—life didn’t take him to Joe’s very often. He’d have to ask the proprietor what had been damaged in the fray.
And at the center of that fray was this raven-haired beauty with the icy gaze, crossing her arms under her breasts and holding his eyes in a fearless dare.
“So it took seven of you to teach her a lesson?” Allan raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not with them.” Cowboy Four pointed to Five, Six, and Seven. “When I heard the bottle break, I stepped in and they jumped us.”
“It sort of escalated from there,” Five said.
Allan pursed his lips and glanced at the wolf. She still hadn’t spoken in her own defense, but the magick pull grew stronger by the second. From a far corner, in the booths, someone spoke up to validate Cowboy Four’s story.
Allan depressed the button on his walkie. “Backup, come on in.” Within a few short moments, his two deputies were crunching through the glass. He pointed to the first group. “You take those three, Brice. And Young, you’ve got these four.” He zeroed in on the wolf. “You. Come with me.”
“What should we do, boss?” Eli Brice’s voice caught Allan as he retreated to the stage, where the light was lower. The wolf followed, her steps slow and sultry. She was going to make this about the magick, he could tell. She was one of those Louisiana wolves. No boundaries, no propriety.
“Get their statements.” Allan turned his back on his deputies and tried to ignore the thrumming pulse of her scent, the closer she came to him. When they were a good ten feet from the humans, he rounded on her. “What in the hell are you doing out here on your own?”
She turned her tongue inside her mouth and a smile crept across her round, full lips. “Blowing off some steam.”
“Aaron promised me. He promised that no one would come into town.”
She shrugged, and her breasts bounced inside her sleeveless top. She wasn’t even wearing a fucking bra. These assholes had zeroed in on her because she looked like sex on a lollipop stick, ready to lick. Tight jeans accentuated the curve of her ass and the black corset-y thing appeared to be one whisper from slipping down over the rounded tops of her breasts.
No wonder they tried to fight with her. They were hoping she would flash them and were willing to take a punch for it.
Holy hell, Allan. Get a grip.
He shook his head. “I should arrest you.”
She put her hands together in front of her, pushing her cleavage up over the edge of her top. “Cuff me, officer.”
“Don’t play games with me. I’m not my brother. I don’t give wolves special treatment.”
Her eyes dropped to his fisted hands. “And yet, you came in here by yourself and left your deputies outside. You isolated me, near the rear exit, I might add, and I can see in your eyes that you feel the magick. You want me as much as I want you.”
“I do not.” Allan cleared his throat. “What I want is for you to go the hell back out to the ranch and stay there.” He turned back to his deputies, who had their notebooks out and were scribbling statements while the cowboys shot angry looks in her direction.
“You want me. You want to fuck me.” The word slipped from her like a wet strand of hair sliding off a naked shoulder…and then he could see…her naked shoulder, her dark hair, her wet skin…
She was right. He needed sex, but not with her. He’d been waiting too long, celibate too long. This girl smelled like arousal and he was getting caught up in her seduction. If he didn’t do something, he was going to end up with a full-on erection in front of his deputies. The thought of sex was already starting to pump his blood.
“Take their statements and let them go,” Allan called to his deputies.
“What about the damage to the bar?” Eli’s pen froze in midair and his open-mouthed question was echoed in the faces of all the cowboys.
“I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed her by the arm. “She’s family. I’ll see that she gets out to the ranch. You two go back to the station and file a report.”
“Are we gonna arrest anybody?” Jeff yelled after him, but Allan had already hustled the she-wolf out the back door.
“No,” was all he said.
Once he had her out into the crisp November evening, he released her arm and pointed to the parking lot and his big, white Trailblazer that said Sheriff on the side in blocky, green letters. He still hadn’t gotten used to driving the thing—it had only been a week.
But instead of following his direction, she pushed on his chest, knocking him back against the brick façade of Joe’s bar. She pressed her body against his and slid her hands up his sides.
Allan dodged away from the kiss she tried to plant on him and she grabbed his shirt, wrestling him back against he building. Her smile was secret, sexy.
“All right now.” He grabbed her arms and walked her backwards toward his vehicle. “You are coming with me.”
With hooded eyes, she glanced down at the front of his pants. “You bet I am, cowboy.”[/et_pb_text][/et_pb_column][/et_pb_row][/et_pb_section]