Samhain Publishing

It's release day, and Push Pull is out! This is a direct sequel to Wolf Town, and continues Rory and Scott's story. It is best read in order.

It's available for $2.45 at Samhain this week. Also up on Kindle-US, Kindle-UK, Nook, Kobo and Sony.

You can read an excerpt here.

And just for fun, I'm going to put all three covers of the Wolf Town series up.

Wolf Town is already out, Push Pull is newly released, and Moon Run is available for pre-order—Kindle-US and Kindle-UK—out in October.

The only way to break free is to let go. In order to protect his shifter kin, FBI agent Trey Walters hides his ability from his employers. For him, a vacation means a whole midwinter month in the Canadian wilderness, free to live in his wolf skin. When he happens upon a rare lynx shifter, he’s fascinated. And his protective instincts kick into overdrive. The young man needs to be shielded from werewolves and humans alike, whether he likes it or not. Jonah can hardly wrap his head around the fact that other shifters exist, much less endure the presence of a stranger in his lonely sanctuary. Blaming himself for his brother’s death, he lives in self-imposed isolation. Trust? Forget it. Yet Trey’s patience penetrates Jonah’s fear, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall like a rock for the wolf. Trey hadn’t planned to embark on an intense, passionate affair, but he finds himself vowing to return after his next undercover mission is over. As months stretch into years, however, Jonah fears that Trey has broken faith with him—or is dead. There’s only one way to find out. Leave the safety of his lair and venture into a dangerous, deadly world…

Read More

Wolf Town has been released today! This is a novella set in the same world as my novels such as Marked, Feral and Lynx. The world has changed a little, shifters are known to exist, and there are a number of them who live in Wolf Town.

Here’s the blurb:

Poised to run. Aching to stay. What lies between is sweet torture.

For nine years, Scott Lund has been erasing himself. Making sure his own kind—those who can control people’s minds—can’t track him down. It has been a lonely existence. So lonely, that when he makes a real connection with a stranger, he breaks his own cardinal rule and falls asleep in the man’s arms.

Rory McIntyre has been sent by his pack alpha to keep a protective eye on Scott. Seduction wasn’t part of the plan, but once he lays eyes on the Minder, Rory isn’t satisfied to keep his distance.

The moment Scott opens his eyes, he panics and flees—straight into a Minder trap. The handsome stranger from the night before turns out to be his rescuer, who whisks him away to a safe place. Wolf Town.

Overwhelmed by Rory’s family, Scott knows only two things for sure. His attraction to Rory is growing by the minute. And to keep his lover safe, he must put as much distance between them as possible…

Product Warnings: Contains dangerous mind control, bone-cracking violence and full-body-contact sex with an irresistible wolf shifter.

Buy here.

Excerpt
Rory pulled in a breath and tried to ignore the unpleasant smell of exhaust mixed with human sweat. The October day had turned unusually warm, and it seemed like everyone and their brother was overdressed. Actually sweat wasn’t much of an annoyance. It was the antiperspirant and perfumes and colognes that came with it, assaulting his nose.

He leaned casually against the bus stand, giving the impression he was gazing vacantly down the road, one of many waiting for the streetcar to arrive. His target walked past, hunched over as usual, staring down at the sidewalk. Rory could have been dressed in neon orange and doing jumping jacks, and the man wouldn’t have noticed him.

Rory straightened from his slouch and detached from the bus stand to follow Scott Lund, twenty-eight years old and apparently entirely alone in the world. Was he headed to his apartment, or would Friday night bring a break from that routine?

Please God a break. Four days on the job and Rory was already dying of boredom.

He didn’t want to be here, bodyguarding some unstable psychic mind-control-type person whose file didn’t make him sound particularly appealing, let alone nice.

Which was why Scott’s rather defeated posture intrigued Rory. Although he recognized that wolves were more aware than others of body posture and considered it an important signal, this guy evidently did not. Quite frankly, if a wolf walked the way Scott did, Rory would have assumed he was a dysfunctional pack’s omega—the unfortunate wolf everyone else abused. But Scott was a Minder who lived by himself, and Rory had to be careful not to make assumptions or perceive him to be weak when he was not.

Even if this Scott was apparently in need of a bodyguard. Not for the first time, Rory wondered if his father and Trey had cooked up this job simply as a make-work project. He glared at Scott’s back, as if he could blame him for Rory’s predicament vis-à-vis pack politics, that is, his being the son of the alpha.

Scott turned left onto Bloor and Rory sighed. The man appeared to be walking home.

But to Rory’s relief, Scott then did something outside his normal routine. He ducked into a side street and into a pub.

Excellent. A much-needed change in protocol. Rory followed, exchanging the pollution of the city for the smells of cooking, alcohol and disinfectants—which meant the place was kept halfway clean.

Scott slid onto a stool near the end of the bar and nodded at the bartender. They traded lackluster greetings, and Scott was passed a beer while he ordered “the usual”. He even mustered a halfhearted smile for that. Scott, generally, was not a smiley guy, at least that Rory had observed.

Before Rory made it too obvious about who he was stalking, he grabbed a stool for himself, three down from Scott, and leaned on the bar.

“What can I get you?” the blond bartender asked, and Rory toyed with the idea of flirting. But his wolf didn’t want to draw attention to himself in this strange city, so he quietly requested the day’s special, with coffee, and left it at that.

Muted music, not quite Muzak, played in the background, and an old clock ticked overhead. Did this Scott not talk to anyone ever? It was getting a little ridiculous. Wolves might be more social than Minders, but Rory couldn’t see a complete lack of friends, or even acquaintances, as being healthy. He’d be reporting this back to Trey, if nothing else.

It occurred to him that if Scott had been a wolf, Trey would never have left him alone for so long. Common wisdom was that wolves needed social contact to stay sane. Minders on the other hand apparently made each other more insane when they got together.

So Rory was here, making sure Scott didn’t get co-opted into a “pod”. God, just their word for a social group was creepy.

Scott wasn’t creepy though. Rory cast a sidelong glance at his target who looked so completely normal if, frankly, a little…sad. Or perhaps that was Rory projecting, because he’d be one unhappy puppy if he spent his life in the city with no friends.

Trey hadn’t banned contact with Scott, had just told Rory to be careful if he went that route. Trey had been talking about acquaintanceship or possibly friendship, Rory knew, but after watching Scott for four days, Rory figured he could sleep with him too—if that worked out. It would pass the time. Might get him more information, might make him more likely to be aware of any danger threatening Scott. Trey, with his FBI background, would never counsel such an approach, but Rory sure as hell wasn’t Trey. The old man called this a job, but it was a favor and they both knew it, and Rory couldn’t stay away from his accounting job forever, pack politics or not.

He waited till the bartender was busy with polishing glasses or whatever it was bartenders did, then turned, angling his body towards Scott. “Excuse me. Do you have the time?”

Bent over his plate, Scott flicked a wary glance Rory’s way, enough for him to catch a flash of gray eyes, before he raised his wrist and spoke softly to it. “Sure. It’s 5:50.”

“Thanks.”

Scott nodded and went back to work on his food.

Hmm, Rory wasn’t sure that exchange had been worth much. Now there was little chance Scott wouldn’t recognize him in the future. Which wouldn’t be such a problem if Scott knew Rory was actually looking out for his interests. Wracking his brain for another way in—Rory didn’t normally have trouble making conversation but this situation had him stumped—he was surprised when out of the corner of his eye he saw Scott straighten his back, pull in a breath and face Rory again.

“Visiting Toronto?” The question was diffident, but Scott’s body language was not. In some way he was counting on Rory’s answer.

Good. He flashed a quick smile. “In a way. I’m here for a couple of weeks for work.”

Scott nodded, then offered a suggestion. “Be sure to see the CN Tower.”

Like hell he’d go up that sky-high elevator. The wolf in him rebelled at the idea of enclosed space, entrapment. But nevertheless Rory asked, “It’s worth the price of admission?”

“The view’s impressive, if you like that sort of thing.” Scott shrugged, picking up Rory’s doubts, which indicated that Scott might be more observant than Rory had guessed. Scott lapsed into silence, seemingly having little to add.

“Have you lived in Toronto long?”

“A few years,” Scott answered vaguely. “I like it.” He fiddled with his knife.

“What’s the nightlife like?” Rory kept his tone close to neutral, just the slightest hint of interest showing, easy to ignore. Don’t frighten him off had been his biggest instruction for the job. Trey would kill him if he put this Minder on the run, especially by showing too much interest.

“It’s all right.” Not exactly a huge affirmation, but Scott turned towards Rory, met his gaze full on and something shifted in his expression. Those gray eyes had a kind of power and Rory wondered if Scott was going to try to push him. He hoped not. He didn’t want to have to report that to Trey.

They gazed, for longer than was comfortable, but Scott remained silent, so it was Rory who spoke next, keeping everything about himself, his voice and his body language relaxed. “You can lead the way, this being your hometown and all.”

Scott cocked his head, considering, before he answered, “Sure.”

And that was that. They had some kind of agreement. They paid off their bills and exited the pub. The now-cool air hit Rory’s face—refreshing. Night had fallen, and with it the worst of the day’s smells lessened.

“So what would you like to see?” asked Scott.

“High Park.”

Scott stumbled, then stopped to face him, disappointment more than dismay on his face. “A park? Uh…”

Rory laughed and held up a hand. He was so not a city person. “For walking, not sex. I thought we’d go back to my hotel. If you were inclined.”

Scott gazed at him doubtfully.

“Really. I’d like a walk in the park. I live in the country. I don’t particularly enjoy the city streets.”

“Then you want to go back to your hotel?”

“Yes.” Rory watched as Scott seemed to debate something within himself.

The Minder’s gaze intensified, and his voice turned harsher as he said, “At High Park we’ll chat only, no sex, no touching. Then back to your hotel.”

And Rory felt it. Scott had tried to manipulate him, and he could even see the appeal of the Minder’s suggestion though otherwise wasn’t much affected. If Rory were human, not wolf, he apparently wouldn’t have realized anything was off, would have simply believed it was a great idea of Scott’s and agreed wholeheartedly.

Scott wasn’t supposed to use his powers on unsuspecting humans, of which he was one, to Scott’s knowledge. Rory wondered what Trey would make of it.

“Okay,” Rory said slowly since Scott was observing him closely.

“You said that’s what you wanted.” Scott spoke with just the slightest strain of defensiveness.

It was insurance, Rory recognized, in case he had other ideas Scott wasn’t prepared to entertain. It seemed almost fair. “How do we get to High Park?”

Scott gestured forward with one open hand, and they walked.

The conversation stuttered and stopped, began again. Scott worked as a mailman, and he liked getting outside for his job. Rory admitted he was an accountant.

“Why are you in Toronto then?” Scott asked.

“Courting a new client.”

It had the ring of truth, and Scott accepted that as they walked through the not-very-well-lit path of High Park. Rory smelled Scott’s increasing nervousness. Perhaps he didn’t like being here at night. Perhaps it was Rory himself. But Rory felt safer. He could hear and smell and see everything he needed to know they were alone, not being followed. It was different on the streets where his level of alert had to remain high.

The park calmed Rory too, so that by the time they exited, he felt confident about what he was doing. Trey hadn’t told him to stay hands-off, but he wouldn’t approve. However, Rory didn’t see a better way to insert himself into Scott’s life and the surveillance from afar had its own problems.

Besides, the man appealed to Rory, despite everything he knew. It was partially the body language Scott used, which roused Rory’s too-strong protective instincts. Also Scott plain smelled good to his wolf. And though Scott’s face was not remarkable, his eyes were quite something, a vividness there that intrigued Rory.

Even if Scott used his eyes and voice to manipulate others, he couldn’t manipulate Rory.

Scott stopped, rubbed his forehead and said with a mix of weariness and sadness, “I’m more tired than I realized.”

Interesting. He was trying to back out. Even if Scott had thought he’d pushed Rory, he wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to do it again, wasn’t thriving to be a master manipulator as the government informationals on Minders sometimes suggested.

Rory stepped closer and watched Scott tense even if he didn’t move away. “Maybe the park wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Well, it was if you liked it.”

“Come back to my room with me,” he murmured.

Scott stared, pupils large and dark with the night, and Rory caught the scent of his arousal. Good. Scott was attracted. Rory placed a hand on Scott’s hip, felt him jerk slightly under his palm, but still Scott didn’t retreat. Instead he asked, of all things, “How old are you?”

He leaned towards Scott’s ear. “Twenty-six.”

“You look younger.”

“So I’ve been told. I can show you ID if you’d like.”

Scott simply shook his head, and Rory lifted his other hand, wrapped it around the nape of Scott’s neck, felt and watched as Scott jerked against his touch then settled into it again.

This reaction of Scott’s had Rory both turned on and worried. Protective instincts worked in odd ways on him. If Scott were a wolf, Rory would be wondering who had hurt him, but humans were different and Minders were different again.

“No force, no penetration.” Scott’s eyes had gone intense, and for the second time in an hour, Rory felt his words. In other circumstances, he might have been angry or at least irritated that Scott was trying to manipulate him. But these pushes were all about self-protection, and Scott had tried to cry off.

“Agreed.” Rory was tempted to kiss him but something told him to wait for the hotel room. So he stepped back. Scott was surprised to be released.

“You’re still interested?” That was a question, no push behind it, and Scott seemed puzzled by Rory’s continued attraction.

Rory smiled, slow and easy. “Absolutely.”

Joely Skye
Lynx and Wolf Town on sale now

I recently became the proud owner of a Sony Reader. Before that, I had read on my laptop and my iPod. Despite the small screen size, I found the iPod Touch’s screen large enough to read a book and enjoy it. But I’ll admit the Sony Reader feels like a step up, given that it feels more like a “page” on the screen than just a paragraph or two.

(The one advantage the iPod Touch has over the Sony is that it’s backlit so I can read in the dark. Now as it happens, I don’t have that many moments in my life where I want the backlight, but when I do, it’s a very nice feature, be it reading in the car at night or in a hotel room at night when everyone else is sleeping.)

But, back to my Sony…I’m absolutely delighted with it. If I’m reading using the epub format, then I have very nice paragraphs and not a lot of empty space. I’ve had more issues with PDFs which are, by their nature I believe, not able to reflow as well. So I’m a definite fan of epub.

The other thing I love is being able to carry around ten books in one slim package. If I’m going somewhere and I can’t quite decide what I want to read, I’m able to take a lot of choices with me.

I’m also enjoying learning about new ereaders that are coming on to the market every day, such as Kobo’s reader, the Nook at Barnes and Noble, and Apple’s new iPad. With every reading device, there do seem to be pluses and minuses, which can make a person fearful to make a choice and make the wrong one.

But, I can only say, it’s been great having a Sony, even if it’s not perfect. So if people want to read an ebook on something other than their laptop, I’d urge you to do some research and take the plunge. I definitely think it’s worth it.

If anyone wants to jump in with their likes and dislikes when it comes to reading ebooks, please do.

Joely Skye
www.joely.com
Wolf Town coming June 15

I’ve written a number of books set in my shifter world, including Marked and Feral. And in most of these books, there’s been one recurring character, Trey Walters. Lynx is his story, and I hope those of you who have been following my books enjoy it. And for those of you who haven’t read any of my books, I hope this is a good place for you to start.

The only way to break free is to let go.

In order to protect his shifter kin, FBI agent Trey Walters hides his ability from his employers. For him, a vacation means a whole midwinter month in the Canadian wilderness, free to live in his wolf skin.

When he happens upon a rare lynx shifter, he’s fascinated. And his protective instincts kick into overdrive. The young man needs to be shielded from werewolves and humans alike, whether he likes it or not.

Jonah can hardly wrap his head around the fact that other shifters exist, much less endure the presence of a stranger in his lonely sanctuary. Blaming himself for his brother’s death, he lives in self-imposed isolation. Trust? Forget it. Yet Trey’s patience penetrates Jonah’s fear, and it doesn’t take long for him to fall like a rock for the wolf.

Trey hadn’t planned to embark on an intense, passionate affair, but he finds himself vowing to return after his next undercover mission is over. As months stretch into years, however, Jonah fears that Trey has broken faith with him—or is dead. There’s only one way to find out. Leave the safety of his lair and venture into a dangerous, deadly world…

Available at My Bookstore and More and other venues.

I’ve had some nice reviews already. Kimberley Spinney at Sensual Reads gave Lynx 5 stars.

With an intensity that will you breathless, Lynx hits the mark in every way.

Scandalous Minx at Literary Nymphs gave Lynx 5 hearts.

The suspense, sensual encounters and emotional rollercoaster rides are what will do you in with this story.

Here’s an excerpt:

Trey was three days deep into the Canadian Shield—it was slow progress going uphill towards a major ridge in a snowstorm—when he recognized he was being tracked. The whiff of a predator too faint to identify. The muffled echo of something moving over the snow’s surface.

He’d come here on a whim, investigating the odd report of a giant lynx in the area—though giant lynxes were long extinct. Didn’t matter, this was his idea of vacation. He hadn’t expected to discover much of anything. He certainly hadn’t expected to be tracked by another animal, and this new development invigorated him.

The bone-deep weariness that had afflicted Trey these past weeks vanished. Easy as that it was gone. Instead he faced a challenge, one only his wolf had to deal with—identify his tracker. It had nothing to do with humans and their world, nothing to do with his work. Just the wilderness and his wolf and this snowstorm.

Trey decreased his speed, as if he were ailing in some fashion, as if he were weak. With a potential predator on his trail, such a strategy might flush him out. Predators were a curious bunch, by and large, and they liked to take advantage of weakness.

Usually, amended Trey hours later, when no predator had yet appeared. After half a day of this, Trey became impatient with his slow progress, given that his tracker continued to keep its distance. Perhaps it wasn’t hungry, never mind that they were in the dead of winter. True, Trey wasn’t hungry, but he’d feasted a number of times over the past few days and had been well nourished before he’d set out. This animal was unlikely to have the same advantage.

Possibly it wasn’t a predator, but Trey was hard-pressed to imagine a deer or hare following him. Besides lacking basic brainpower, they were timid, fearful creatures that didn’t like to bring a wolf’s attention to themselves.

What if it’s not just an animal? Unbidden, the thought grabbed hold, as did the idea of a shifter. Interest piqued, Trey decided to take a more proactive approach. Picking up speed, he veered left and began doubling back, going wide. It took some time but eventually he crossed tracks, not too old.

The fur on the back of his neck rose in anticipation. He observed incredibly large prints with no claw marks—classic lynx tracks except they were too big, even for their snowshoe paws. Cat shifters were rare and usually cougar in form. So what were the chances of a lynx shifter? Let alone a giant lynx.

Trey was fascinated and excited, as if he were about to discover a whole new continent. Still, it was important to think this through. Animal or werecat, the creature might be dangerous, vicious. A terrible shame if it was the latter, but a possibility he had to be prepared for as he followed its trail.

His tracking was slower than he liked. The snow was too soft, too deep, for his paws. He could have stayed human and used snowshoes so he didn’t continually sink into the powdery snow. But human form meant more thinking than he chose to deal with on vacation.

The wind increased, and more than once he almost lost the trail as it got covered at times by blowing snow. The lynx was moving quickly now; its huge paws kept it mostly above the drifts. After a while, the hunt became exhausting and if Trey wasn’t careful he’d get in trouble, so he paced himself and kept alert.

Farther on it became evident that the lynx had become aware of him. Its route turned convoluted as it backtracked a couple of times and used some tree-climbing as a diversion.

But this show of intelligence wasn’t the only thing that had Trey’s anticipation growing. As the area became sheltered by the huge rock face, he finally gained on the lynx and picked up its scent in the prints it left behind. And though he’d never before identified a lynx shifter, this one did not scan as pure animal.

Trey stopped and threw back his head to howl. Whether the shifter would recognize it as a greeting, he didn’t know, but there was no harm in trying to say hello before they actually met up.

The sun’s dim light faded and dusk was almost upon him before Trey reached the cover of the rock face and the snow no longer blew past him. He was close now, so he paused to gather the rest of his energy. His excitement at finding a new kind of shifter had to be balanced with some caution. Even if lynxes were known as shy creatures who hid more than they attacked.

*

The wolf had, of all things, turned the tables and was stalking him. Early in the day, Jonah had come upon it and enjoyed watching it, as he did much of the wildlife around him. To his mind, wolves were particularly beautiful creatures.

He hadn’t wanted to get too close and rattle it—lone wolves had enough worries. But then its progress had slowed significantly in the late morning, and he’d wondered if it was injured. While he’d been worrying about its state of health and keeping an eye on it, the wolf had suddenly disappeared. So he’d shrugged off its injury and his losing its trail, and figured the wolf was fine after all. As Jonah headed home he slowly realized it was tracking him. Now this wolf was almost at his front door.

The about-face made Jonah feel strange. This switch was outside his experience. Wolves were smart, sure, but this was quite extraordinary. And truth was, apart from Eliza, wolves steered clear of him. He made them edgy, probably because they sensed he was not quite human, not quite beast.

So Jonah hurried home, went inside and shifted to human where he’d be better able to deal with any problematic wolf, or make friends if it was so inclined. Though he recognized this was wishful thinking more than a realistic possibility. Older wolves were suspicious creatures.

Jonah got dressed and, armed with a knife, waited outside the cave. Sure a wolf might attack a human, but only if it were rabid or mentally deranged, which was unlikely given this one’s intelligence—he hadn’t been able to give it the slip.

Jonah had once befriended a she-wolf pup with a broken leg and she’d become a pet. His one friend in recent times, Jonah thought rather grimly, but Eliza had abandoned him for a mate and the life of a wolf. Though she visited occasionally, usually in the summer, to show off her new pups.

Jonah blinked, shrugging off the memory as he became a little appalled at his eagerness to befriend this older male that was obviously healthy. Oh well. He was lonely. What was new about that?

He spent too much time alone so any encounter was welcome. Just accept that reality. As long as he was smart, it would be fine. He turned his knife blade up, touching its edge to bring the point home. Yeah, he wanted to greet the wolf, not kill it, but if killing somehow became a necessity, he knew what to do. He’d killed before.

He crouched in the doorway. At least the wind had faded here, and if he listened carefully, he could hear the creature approaching.

*

The snow was less deep, in this harbor against the elements. A clever place to make a den. Trey slowed right down and kept his ears open. Lynx were capable of moving silently, and Trey did not intend to be attacked without forewarning.

In the distance, he saw a small clearing, and he approached it cautiously. As he was about to reach its edge, a voice floated over the cold air, startling him.

“Hey, wolf.” A rich tenor. Not old, but certainly not a boy’s.

Trey went stock-still as a shiver thrilled through him. He’d anticipated a shifter, but somehow the reality of it was a shock. A giant-lynx shifter. Amazing.

His next thought followed swiftly—his employers could never, ever know. This was one more secret Trey intended to guard, because cat shifters were precious and rare, and this lynx shifter might be unique.

“I can hear you so you might as well come out. My hearing is quite good, as it happens.”

The words were friendly, welcoming. The man-lynx was rational. Relief swept over Trey. He’d refused to think far ahead, past a potential attack, as he dreaded being forced to kill such a wonderful creature as this. He stepped forward a pace or two.

“You’ve been following me.” The voice was clear, solid, clean. “That’s okay, if we’re going to be friends.”

The lynx didn’t yet recognize he was speaking to a fellow shifter. He thought Trey was an actual wolf. Which suggested he was inexperienced or uneducated.

Exactly how isolated was this lynx? Trey approached to find out.

A man crouched in a doorway to a…cave. Jesus, he lived in a cave. His body was loose, ready to move, but not aggressive in the least. Trey couldn’t make out much beyond the layers of warm clothing, but the man seemed fairly large as he turned his gaze on Trey.

They stared at each other, assessing, the man frowning a little. His eyes—green—widened in his pale, well-shaven face. This one had not let himself go wild enough to grow a years-old beard, and he wore modern winter gear. Encouraging.

“I haven’t been followed home before,” he said softly. He cocked his head. “I’m not sure exactly what you seek here. I’ve got a knife and I’ll use it to defend myself, but I really don’t want to do that. You’re a handsome fellow.”

Well, it was good to know the shifter shared Trey’s reluctance to attack. He realized that his own posture was aggressive. But this lynx was no werewolf who’d be looking to see if Trey was dominant or not, so Trey consciously relaxed his body. He stepped towards him, then stopped to utter a friendly greeting. It was a little annoying to act the wolf, but under the circumstances, necessary.

The lynx smiled and it was then, being closer and seeing that smile, that Trey realized how young he was. A strange disappointment ran through him, but he didn’t stop to examine it because fast on its heels followed concern. One this young should not be on his own. It was hard on a shifter to balance human social needs and a cat’s desire for solitude, and many couldn’t handle their split personalities. Werewolves had an easier time integrating their two halves.

Trey peered, examining that face, assessing. Okay, this one was in his twenties, probably closer to twenty than thirty.

“Are you hungry?” The words broke Trey’s train of thought and he sat, waited. He’d never been particularly vocal, but he allowed himself a brief guttural whine that the lynx took as a yes. “I’ll bet. You’ve had a long day, following me like that.” He frowned. “Though you sure don’t look malnourished. I guess winter’s been treating you well?”

*

Not really, but Trey didn’t think he’d bother explaining how he was an FBI agent poised to infiltrate an unnamed agency full of assholes and murderers who would kill him if they ever found out he was a shifter. Even if he could speak, he wouldn’t burden anyone with that information.

“Good.” The lynx smiled again, a trusting expression that struck Trey as something like a gift. The young man patted his chest. “I’m Jonah, by the way.” He looked beyond Trey. “And the storm is not going away yet. I think you’d better come in. Do I have to tempt you with food?” Jonah moved inward, holding open a makeshift door, so Trey pushed up from sitting and trotted past Jonah to go right inside.

He blinked. It was dark but spacious and it went deep. Not only that, there was a real, in a Home Depot sort of way, door inside. It led to a tiny house inside the cave. Into which Jonah disappeared, not inviting Trey this time.

Interesting. Trey wanted to see the house itself, not just this cave-like mudroom, but that could wait till Jonah was more at ease with him. Meanwhile, he took in all the smells, searching for the presence of any other creatures, human or not. He only identified the lynx shifter. Evidently Jonah lived alone and didn’t have many visitors. Trey intended to ensure that Jonah didn’t regret this one.

Jonah interrupted Trey’s brief investigation of the mudroom by returning with a slab of raw deer meat. Not Trey’s favorite meal, but it would do.

“What do you think?” Jonah sounded pleased with this gift of food. “It’s been a while since I’ve had company.” There was a wry note to his words, suggesting it was an understatement. Trey wondered just how lonely Jonah got. Older cat shifters sometimes gave up on humanity. But the younger ones still wanted to engage.

“Dig in. It’s all yours.” Jonah placed the platter of food halfway between Trey and himself, and Trey came forward. He hadn’t realized he was hungry till he began eating. “Now, I have to make my meal, which takes a little more preparation since I prefer my stuff cooked. But we’ll talk more later, okay?”

Jonah stepped into the little house again, shutting the door, and this time Trey didn’t think he’d come out any time soon. Which was no good. Trey was absolutely fascinated by the young lynx. Even this house he lived in was fascinating. Who had built it for him, or had he made it himself? It was made of wood that no doubt kept the heat in and the beasts out.

Including Trey. But having made contact, Trey didn’t intend to spend the night in this pseudo-porch, not quite inside, not outside. He wanted to listen to Jonah’s young, earnest voice. His face had a raw-boned appeal, pale skin over high cheekbones, a wide mouth, big eyes. All softened by those freckles and that smile.

Jonah seemed sane, which suggested that he hadn’t raised himself, that he’d been socialized. Certainly his English appeared perfectly normal.

The desire to shift grabbed hold of Trey. He wanted to shift and talk with the young man, find out his story, find out if he needed help. Not in the short term, as Jonah appeared quite self-sufficient. But how did he plan to manage long term on his own like this?

But it was not yet time for Trey to reveal himself. The wolf had gained some measure of Jonah’s trust and Trey thought it wise to build on that before proceeding.

Interesting that Jonah still hadn’t identified Trey as a fellow shifter. A lynx had an excellent sense of smell, almost as strong as a wolf’s. Trey’s best guess was that Jonah had not encountered a shifter before and therefore had no experience in recognizing one. Trey might appear to be a strange-smelling wolf.

There was a handle on the door to the inner sanctum, so after eating, Trey left his empty platter and walked to the entrance to the real house. He raised his paw and carefully pushed down on the metal lever. The latch gave way, releasing the door from its frame, and he shouldered the door so it swung inward. Barking once in greeting, he moved in slowly, only to stop and stare, amazed at the presence of bookshelves and other furniture—a bed, a bench, a rug. In the midst of this snowstorm, it seemed almost magical.

Someone had a real home here, out in the middle of nowhere. No electricity—the lighting came from the fire and lanterns—but this was a home. He stared, and Jonah stared back at him, mouth slightly open in consternation.

“Well, that was some trick, opening that door. Very clever.” Crouching, Jonah had turned away from the fire on which he was cooking meat and potatoes. There wasn’t alarm in his voice, but some wariness. “I actually thought you would stay outside. That’s a thick coat of fur you have. Besides, you’re letting in all the cold air.”

Trey turned around and shouldered the door shut, then faced Jonah, sitting. Best not to move too much until the human became accustomed to his wolf’s presence.

The look on Jonah’s face was incredulous. “Exactly how much of what I’m saying do you understand?”

Trey felt like laughing and managed a wolfish grin. But he made a mental note to himself not to overdo it and unnerve the lynx. Let Jonah get used to his wolf for a day or two, then break the news to him that he wasn’t the only shifter in his own house.

Joely Skye
Lynx on sale now
Wolf Town available June 15

Feral, my cat shifter/werewolf m/m romance is now on sale in paperback. (That’s a bit of mouthful of a description, isn’t it? But at least the title is short.)

And, hey, isn’t Anne Cain’s cover gorgeous? I was very excited to get my box full of books last month, because the book itself is just lovely.

Here’s the blurb:

Seduction is his only chance for freedom…and love is a death sentence.

Even among shifters, Ethan is a rare breed. So rare, he’s spent the last eight years in hiding from the werewolves who once captured and tortured him. Now a tranq dart has cut short his feral existence. Waking in human form in a locked room is more than a living nightmare…it’s reliving his worst one.

Yet in the troubled eyes of one of his captors, he senses a weak link. One he can use to escape—by seducing his jailer.

Bram’s life as pack omega isn’t easy. As long as he obeys his alpha he is protected. However, there are some things he just can’t bring himself to do. Keeping a precious cougar shifter prisoner is one of them, especially one who has somehow managed to capture his heart.

Setting Ethan free could be a death sentence for both of them, for Bram’s pack doesn’t take betrayal lightly. And the alpha is set on revenge.

Here’s an excerpt:

Chapter One

Ethan swerved, just missing the river’s edge, and leaped uphill. If he pushed, he could reach the mountain, and if he reached the mountain, he could get to the cliff. It was better that he jump into forever than be captured, because these wolves wouldn’t simply kill him, they would tear him apart, over and over again. He couldn’t live through that hell a second time. Once—years ago—had almost destroyed him and had certainly destroyed what was human in him.

So he ran as cougar and ignored his body’s rapidly draining reserves—it was the end of winter and he was racing towards oblivion.

The werewolves’ sudden appearance had initially confounded him. He’d been alone for so long that when he came upon the pack, or more accurately they came upon him, he froze. Only for a moment, but that time of pure astonishment had been crucial in terms of the hunt—and that’s what this was. They were attempting to bring him down. By his count, six wolves were chasing him, and they were close, too close.

Unlike hounds that bayed the few times they’d tried unsuccessfully to tree him, the wolves were silent, steady and very, very large. Why these shifters were after him, Ethan couldn’t fathom. He’d been careful not to attract their interest. Though he knew, at least at an intellectual level, that not all wolf packs were sadistic, he’d been wolf-shy forever. His past had taught him to avoid them at all costs.

The winter had been long and harsh, and he wasn’t as strong as he needed to be. For one thing, he’d lost too much weight and his skin hung loose around him. Nevertheless, his paws were large, larger than a wolf’s, and he should have been able to outrun them on this snow. But he was one and they were many, enough they could switch off on the hunt, take turns being fresh.

They had planned this.

His muscles bunched, straining, propelling him forward despite his fatigue. The snow’s crust sometimes broke beneath him, making him stumble before he pushed on. The key was not to panic, to remain determined. He reminded himself that this snow would break under his pursuers’ paws too, and with greater frequency. And yet, the wolves were gaining.

Ten more minutes max. He could make it to the cliff. Despite his body’s protest, he ran, and ran hard, barely slowing down. As long as he didn’t collapse, he would get clear.

The wolf shot out of nowhere, dark against the white snow, racing towards Ethan at an angle. As if he knew of Ethan’s plan and was determined to cut off his escape route. Ethan’s confidence took a hit and it was hard not to falter.

He forced himself to aim straight for the predator. The large werewolf was male and as Ethan approached, the wolf eased up his pace and turned, apparently bracing himself for Ethan. Foolish thing, or was this one a sacrifice? For, one on one, a cougar, even a malnourished cougar, would best a wolf and kill it easily. Didn’t matter. Ethan refused to go down that road. If he stopped to harm one wolf, the pack would be on him, attacking, and would forever claim their right to do it again and again.

At the last possible moment, Ethan leaped and he caught an expression of surprise on the wolf’s face before he was past it, flying through the air.

As he landed, the snow’s hard crust cut the pads of his front paws, but he welcomed the pain, let it spur him onwards as his hind legs pushed off the snow and moved him forward.

Unlike Ethan, the wolf was fresh. Ethan didn’t think he could keep up this new, faster pace. Though he tried, he tried, marshaling the last of his energy. Yet he heard the wolf panting, the snow breaking as the wolf closed in.

He could turn, Ethan thought. He could turn and slice the wolf open, gut him with his claws. A pack of wolves he couldn’t outfight, but this one he could kill.

No. Instead he ran harder, fighting to race ahead. The cliff. It was not that far.

Pain speared his right flank. It wasn’t the jagged tear of teeth, but a sharp, clean puncture. No wolf was on him, so he ignored the sensation of having been shot and bunched his hind legs to push harder.

The effort failed and he stumbled, his right leg going numb and not responding to his body’s commands. Up, get up. Ethan summoned all his will to push forward, and fell.

The wolf approached and Ethan, snarling, lunged to keep the predator at bay. The lunge was pathetic, with his hind legs giving out, and Ethan collapsed onto the snow. His body had betrayed him while a wolf stood watching, eyes brown, fur black.

It was like before. Years ago, the wolves had liked to watch him when he was down.

Ethan felt sick. It would happen again. They’d ripped him open a few times, waited for him to heal, and repeated their not-quite-lethal attacks. A terrible sort of play. A punishment. But for what this time? He hadn’t consorted with one of theirs or attacked anyone. Revenge couldn’t be a motive. Perhaps they simply wanted to toy with him.

They’d drugged him, he recognized, a dart in his right flank immobilizing him. So this episode was different. As was the dark wolf’s somber appearance and his strange, unhappy whine. Last time, the wolves would have laughed at his helplessness by now.

They were wolves with different weapons and perhaps a changed agenda. One he couldn’t guess at and one he feared. Ethan had never returned to his human form after the terror. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d become feral and didn’t want to know. The point was, the point to cling to—he refused to turn human. His human was weak and would reach for solace, for companionship, for contact. Ethan simply could not afford it, or survive it.

He should close his eyes, shut out the dark wolf, but the anger in him wouldn’t let go of that brown gaze, would not look away, even though he could no longer hold up his head.

The wolf whined again, as if in greeting. Lila used to whine, Ethan remembered rather hopelessly, though he’d spent so many years trying not to think about her. The wolf came closer, approaching Ethan’s neck, and he braced himself for the attack.

The wolf nuzzled Ethan. Lightly.

What the hell?

“Get back, Bram.” The voice came out of nowhere, a warning, and the wolf obeyed by retreating a few steps.

Bram. Ethan remembered that name. His cat remembered all the names. Not a different pack then, though Bram had been a youngster last time. So the same pack had somehow tracked Ethan down. But why? He’d have felt sickened if the drug hadn’t taken hold, allowing him to float in a painless, cloudless space full of only curiosity and anger—and even those emotions were becoming distant. Panic was completely at bay.

Bram stood between Ethan and the second wolf, and growled. Under other circumstances, Ethan would have felt like Bram was protecting him, which didn’t make sense. Evidently, the drug was confusing him.

“Jesus, Bram, I could wring your neck.” That gravelly voice sounded angry and alpha-ish. Somewhere deep inside himself, Ethan cringed. “What the hell were you thinking going one-on-one with a feral cat? He could have sliced you open. He’s done it before.”

Despite his best efforts, Ethan’s eyelids drifted shut. He didn’t entirely lose consciousness, but he wasn’t aware of time passing. He kept his focus on himself, on his cat. He was only cat, not human. No shifting, not ever again. He had to keep a stranglehold on his ability to shift so he didn’t give in to his weaker side.

“This was a hunt, Doug.” A new, reproachful voice jerked Ethan back to the present. The words were spoken low, uncertain, and someone stood very near Ethan.

“What the hell else could it be after he ran from us?” the one named Doug answered. “It took me three shots to bring him down. This cat was fast, twisting and turning like a mad thing. I missed twice.”

There was a long silence, and if Ethan had had the energy, he would have lifted his head to see the two shifter humans. But he could only listen.

“Bram, look at me,” Doug demanded.

“Sorry.” Sorry for what? Ethan didn’t know. He only knew that brown-eyed Bram-the-dark-wolf was no longer a wolf. He must have shifted to human while Ethan had drifted along in his drug-induced haze. God knew how long they’d been here.

But why turn from wolf to human? And why didn’t they attack? What were they waiting for? For him to shift too? The worst thing was that they called to him, these shifters, standing nearby in their human forms. They called to Ethan the human, and he was scared he wouldn’t be able to resist the pull.

“Get back.” Doug spoke again, still annoyed. “You’re not even wolf and he’s still cougar.”

Ethan would stay cougar. He was not going to change for them. As if from far away, he heard himself snarling.

“Bram,” Doug warned. “If you can’t act responsibly, I will not keep you on this job.”

“He’s down.” Bram’s voice filled with resentment. “And I know how to take care of myself.”

“Right.” The older man didn’t believe Bram. Why not? Ethan muzzily tried to figure out what they were arguing about. He was losing track of the conversation. Another needle poked his flank and he barely felt the puncture.

Time passed, but Ethan grimly and determinedly remained cat.

Words came back into focus.

“Jesus, we’ve been here close to an hour. Shift already.” The gloved hand of the alpha came down on Ethan’s face, and despite his desire not to show weakness, he flinched. A thumb raised his eyelid and the blue eyes of his worst nightmares looked into his. “Okay, Bram, he needs encouragement and clearly he’s harmless now, close to senseless. Get over here and touch him, coax him.” The alpha spoke directly to Ethan for the first time. “Shift, buddy. It’ll go easier on you if you do.”

This asshole was no buddy of his, but all Ethan could let out was a soft, pathetic hiss. He began to tremble. His human so long suppressed was struggling to change, to shift, to be with these humans. To talk.

Couldn’t go there, could not go there. Not with wolves here.

They knew of his struggle to stay cougar, but showed no mercy. A bare hand ran through his fur. Not a pat, but an awful caress that went down the length of his spine. They were playing with him, tempting him, and the human in him didn’t know or didn’t care. The human thought they were asking for his company, offering friendship. The human was an idiot who yearned for companionship.

His cat, on the other hand, was a solitary animal who needed no one and nothing, but food and sleep. His cat was much stronger. Usually. At this moment, his human craved contact and Ethan could not fight it down. Between the drugs and that shifter hand—fingers drifting through his fur, over his shoulders and back—he became terribly, fatally weak. Tremors rippled through him.

“Let it go, Ethan.” A bare murmur, as if in comfort. Bram’s voice was a lure and a betrayal. A false source of comfort.

Ethan refused to let it go. He fought hard to stay what he was, focusing on his cat, fighting down his human while those beguiling fingers softly stroked his exposed neck. Despite his best efforts, the blackness took him.

Chapter Two

Ethan lay on his back.

He never lay on his back. It was too narrow, the cougar’s back, and much more comfortable to lie on his side. He attempted to roll over and his body resisted. Odd. His shoulders were too broad, his legs wrongly shaped, his tail…gone.

Panic. He pulled in air and scrabbled, trying to sit up. He couldn’t see, couldn’t move limbs properly. A noise came from his throat, and it sounded all wrong—human. God no.

Something pushed at him to rise. A hand. Hands. Someone behind him. Human-shaped. Arms surrounded him, clamped down on his wrists, wrapping his own arms around him like a human straightjacket. A chest pressed against his back.

Made no sense. Prepare for attack. Cat… Think! Air pulled in again. Breathe, Ethan.

“Easy.” A murmur.

Ethan bolted. No. Tried to bolt, but couldn’t move, could only shake. He wasn’t paralyzed, but confined. The clasp became a vise, and legs pressed down on his own while arms tightened around his. Someone enveloped him. How? Why?

He heard a keening noise and came to recognize that his own throat was making it.

“You’re all right, but you need to calm down.”

The voice spurred Ethan to fight harder, and he strained against the muscles and bones that held him. He was strong, even in human form, but not more powerful than this cage of arms, legs, back. He needed to shift. Cat. Cat. He needed to think to shift.

“Don’t fight. No one is going to hurt you.” The timbre of the voice gave his captor away, as did the strength that held him.

Wolf. Ethan was entrapped by a wolf. The thought tore at him and his heart banged harder, threatening. Everything threatened. His world started to turn gray and he battled to hold on. God knew what they’d do to him once he passed out.

“Easy.” It was an effort for the stranger to hold him. The wolf actually nuzzled the side of Ethan’s neck, a classic wolf-calming technique, but it worked on wolves, not him. Ethan would have tried to crack his captor’s head, but he was shaking too hard and he was held too tight. Ethan had lost control. Weak, lost.

“Ethan.” A soothing voice, deceptive, and yet some of Ethan’s energy leached away. Human curiosity rose within him, tentative but building despite the terror. Goddamn human. It coaxed Ethan to not want to fight. It created this terrible longing within him.

It made Ethan recognize that the wolf knew his name. And ask the question, How?

Cat. Ethan needed to shift so he could fight. His cat could outfight any wolf. His stupid human would want to make friends. Jesus.

Breathe for a moment, Ethan. Get yourself together and you can shift, wolf or no wolf.

“That’s it.”

His shuddering breaths went in and out. God, he couldn’t find it in him to shift. Why not? Where was his cat? It was as if this human contact—no matter that the male was really a wolf—suppressed Ethan’s cat. Instead his human wanted to ask questions.

The stranger eased his hold slightly. Not enough that Ethan could do anything, just to make him more comfortable.

He had never been held like this, and it felt unsafe. He shouldn’t try to speak, but his human ignored that warning.

“I can’t see,” he managed though a long-disused throat. It hurt a little to talk.

“Open your eyes.”

His eyelids flew open and light struck, blinding him with brightness. He cringed.

“Can you turn down the lamp, please?” The polite request wasn’t directed at Ethan.

Talking to who? There was another person in the room. Of course, Ethan had heard the breathing but hadn’t registered that second presence yet. Panic hit Ethan again, and the wolf increased pressure on arms and legs, an overwhelming embrace. He didn’t want this, but with wolves it sure as hell was not about Ethan’s wants.

“Ethan.” More urgent this time. “You’re safe here, but you need to calm down.”

“Can’t. Can’t.” Fool to admit it, but oh God, there were two wolves, and they were going to rip him open. One would hold him and the other, the blue-eyed one, would bleed him out. The helplessness of it all hurt. He’d spent years avoiding exactly this.

“No one’s going to hurt you.” Why did the wolf say that? Was it a new game? Ethan couldn’t make sense of the situation, especially when his captor rubbed his face against Ethan’s neck, making him shudder in confusion. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve been cat too long, okay? It takes some time to think as a human again. But it will come.”

Never mind the human. Cat. But Ethan couldn’t find his other self. His cougar was lost somewhere deep within, fighting to get out, but too far below the human surface to succeed. The internal fight sapped Ethan’s will and the gray came again, a wave he couldn’t stave off.

On sale at Amazon, Borders, Barnes and Noble, and other online vendors.

Joely Skye
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/joelyskye/
Feral now available.

Feral, my cat shifter/werewolf m/m romance is now on sale. (That’s a bit of mouthful of a description, isn’t it? But at least the title is short.)

And, hey, isn’t Anne Cain’s cover gorgeous?

Here’s the blurb:

Seduction is his only chance for freedom…and love is a death sentence.

Even among shifters, Ethan is a rare breed. So rare, he’s spent the last eight years in hiding from the werewolves who once captured and tortured him. Now a tranq dart has cut short his feral existence. Waking in human form in a locked room is more than a living nightmare…it’s reliving his worst one.

Yet in the troubled eyes of one of his captors, he senses a weak link. One he can use to escape—by seducing his jailer.

Bram’s life as pack omega isn’t easy. As long as he obeys his alpha he is protected. However, there are some things he just can’t bring himself to do. Keeping a precious cougar shifter prisoner is one of them, especially one who has somehow managed to capture his heart.

Setting Ethan free could be a death sentence for both of them, for Bram’s pack doesn’t take betrayal lightly. And the alpha is set on revenge.

Here’s an excerpt:

Chapter One

Ethan swerved, just missing the river’s edge, and leaped uphill. If he pushed, he could reach the mountain, and if he reached the mountain, he could get to the cliff. It was better that he jump into forever than be captured, because these wolves wouldn’t simply kill him, they would tear him apart, over and over again. He couldn’t live through that hell a second time. Once—years ago—had almost destroyed him and had certainly destroyed what was human in him.

So he ran as cougar and ignored his body’s rapidly draining reserves—it was the end of winter and he was racing towards oblivion.

The werewolves’ sudden appearance had initially confounded him. He’d been alone for so long that when he came upon the pack, or more accurately they came upon him, he froze. Only for a moment, but that time of pure astonishment had been crucial in terms of the hunt—and that’s what this was. They were attempting to bring him down. By his count, six wolves were chasing him, and they were close, too close.

Unlike hounds that bayed the few times they’d tried unsuccessfully to tree him, the wolves were silent, steady and very, very large. Why these shifters were after him, Ethan couldn’t fathom. He’d been careful not to attract their interest. Though he knew, at least at an intellectual level, that not all wolf packs were sadistic, he’d been wolf-shy forever. His past had taught him to avoid them at all costs.

The winter had been long and harsh, and he wasn’t as strong as he needed to be. For one thing, he’d lost too much weight and his skin hung loose around him. Nevertheless, his paws were large, larger than a wolf’s, and he should have been able to outrun them on this snow. But he was one and they were many, enough they could switch off on the hunt, take turns being fresh.

They had planned this.

His muscles bunched, straining, propelling him forward despite his fatigue. The snow’s crust sometimes broke beneath him, making him stumble before he pushed on. The key was not to panic, to remain determined. He reminded himself that this snow would break under his pursuers’ paws too, and with greater frequency. And yet, the wolves were gaining.

Ten more minutes max. He could make it to the cliff. Despite his body’s protest, he ran, and ran hard, barely slowing down. As long as he didn’t collapse, he would get clear.

The wolf shot out of nowhere, dark against the white snow, racing towards Ethan at an angle. As if he knew of Ethan’s plan and was determined to cut off his escape route. Ethan’s confidence took a hit and it was hard not to falter.

He forced himself to aim straight for the predator. The large werewolf was male and as Ethan approached, the wolf eased up his pace and turned, apparently bracing himself for Ethan. Foolish thing, or was this one a sacrifice? For, one on one, a cougar, even a malnourished cougar, would best a wolf and kill it easily. Didn’t matter. Ethan refused to go down that road. If he stopped to harm one wolf, the pack would be on him, attacking, and would forever claim their right to do it again and again.

At the last possible moment, Ethan leaped and he caught an expression of surprise on the wolf’s face before he was past it, flying through the air.

As he landed, the snow’s hard crust cut the pads of his front paws, but he welcomed the pain, let it spur him onwards as his hind legs pushed off the snow and moved him forward.

Unlike Ethan, the wolf was fresh. Ethan didn’t think he could keep up this new, faster pace. Though he tried, he tried, marshaling the last of his energy. Yet he heard the wolf panting, the snow breaking as the wolf closed in.

He could turn, Ethan thought. He could turn and slice the wolf open, gut him with his claws. A pack of wolves he couldn’t outfight, but this one he could kill.

No. Instead he ran harder, fighting to race ahead. The cliff. It was not that far.

Pain speared his right flank. It wasn’t the jagged tear of teeth, but a sharp, clean puncture. No wolf was on him, so he ignored the sensation of having been shot and bunched his hind legs to push harder.

The effort failed and he stumbled, his right leg going numb and not responding to his body’s commands. Up, get up. Ethan summoned all his will to push forward, and fell.

The wolf approached and Ethan, snarling, lunged to keep the predator at bay. The lunge was pathetic, with his hind legs giving out, and Ethan collapsed onto the snow. His body had betrayed him while a wolf stood watching, eyes brown, fur black.

It was like before. Years ago, the wolves had liked to watch him when he was down.

Ethan felt sick. It would happen again. They’d ripped him open a few times, waited for him to heal, and repeated their not-quite-lethal attacks. A terrible sort of play. A punishment. But for what this time? He hadn’t consorted with one of theirs or attacked anyone. Revenge couldn’t be a motive. Perhaps they simply wanted to toy with him.

They’d drugged him, he recognized, a dart in his right flank immobilizing him. So this episode was different. As was the dark wolf’s somber appearance and his strange, unhappy whine. Last time, the wolves would have laughed at his helplessness by now.

They were wolves with different weapons and perhaps a changed agenda. One he couldn’t guess at and one he feared. Ethan had never returned to his human form after the terror. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d become feral and didn’t want to know. The point was, the point to cling to—he refused to turn human. His human was weak and would reach for solace, for companionship, for contact. Ethan simply could not afford it, or survive it.

He should close his eyes, shut out the dark wolf, but the anger in him wouldn’t let go of that brown gaze, would not look away, even though he could no longer hold up his head.

The wolf whined again, as if in greeting. Lila used to whine, Ethan remembered rather hopelessly, though he’d spent so many years trying not to think about her. The wolf came closer, approaching Ethan’s neck, and he braced himself for the attack.

The wolf nuzzled Ethan. Lightly.

What the hell?

“Get back, Bram.” The voice came out of nowhere, a warning, and the wolf obeyed by retreating a few steps.

Bram. Ethan remembered that name. His cat remembered all the names. Not a different pack then, though Bram had been a youngster last time. So the same pack had somehow tracked Ethan down. But why? He’d have felt sickened if the drug hadn’t taken hold, allowing him to float in a painless, cloudless space full of only curiosity and anger—and even those emotions were becoming distant. Panic was completely at bay.

Bram stood between Ethan and the second wolf, and growled. Under other circumstances, Ethan would have felt like Bram was protecting him, which didn’t make sense. Evidently, the drug was confusing him.

“Jesus, Bram, I could wring your neck.” That gravelly voice sounded angry and alpha-ish. Somewhere deep inside himself, Ethan cringed. “What the hell were you thinking going one-on-one with a feral cat? He could have sliced you open. He’s done it before.”

Despite his best efforts, Ethan’s eyelids drifted shut. He didn’t entirely lose consciousness, but he wasn’t aware of time passing. He kept his focus on himself, on his cat. He was only cat, not human. No shifting, not ever again. He had to keep a stranglehold on his ability to shift so he didn’t give in to his weaker side.

“This was a hunt, Doug.” A new, reproachful voice jerked Ethan back to the present. The words were spoken low, uncertain, and someone stood very near Ethan.

“What the hell else could it be after he ran from us?” the one named Doug answered. “It took me three shots to bring him down. This cat was fast, twisting and turning like a mad thing. I missed twice.”

There was a long silence, and if Ethan had had the energy, he would have lifted his head to see the two shifter humans. But he could only listen.

“Bram, look at me,” Doug demanded.

“Sorry.” Sorry for what? Ethan didn’t know. He only knew that brown-eyed Bram-the-dark-wolf was no longer a wolf. He must have shifted to human while Ethan had drifted along in his drug-induced haze. God knew how long they’d been here.

But why turn from wolf to human? And why didn’t they attack? What were they waiting for? For him to shift too? The worst thing was that they called to him, these shifters, standing nearby in their human forms. They called to Ethan the human, and he was scared he wouldn’t be able to resist the pull.

“Get back.” Doug spoke again, still annoyed. “You’re not even wolf and he’s still cougar.”

Ethan would stay cougar. He was not going to change for them. As if from far away, he heard himself snarling.

“Bram,” Doug warned. “If you can’t act responsibly, I will not keep you on this job.”

“He’s down.” Bram’s voice filled with resentment. “And I know how to take care of myself.”

“Right.” The older man didn’t believe Bram. Why not? Ethan muzzily tried to figure out what they were arguing about. He was losing track of the conversation. Another needle poked his flank and he barely felt the puncture.

Time passed, but Ethan grimly and determinedly remained cat.

Words came back into focus.

“Jesus, we’ve been here close to an hour. Shift already.” The gloved hand of the alpha came down on Ethan’s face, and despite his desire not to show weakness, he flinched. A thumb raised his eyelid and the blue eyes of his worst nightmares looked into his. “Okay, Bram, he needs encouragement and clearly he’s harmless now, close to senseless. Get over here and touch him, coax him.” The alpha spoke directly to Ethan for the first time. “Shift, buddy. It’ll go easier on you if you do.”

This asshole was no buddy of his, but all Ethan could let out was a soft, pathetic hiss. He began to tremble. His human so long suppressed was struggling to change, to shift, to be with these humans. To talk.

Couldn’t go there, could not go there. Not with wolves here.

They knew of his struggle to stay cougar, but showed no mercy. A bare hand ran through his fur. Not a pat, but an awful caress that went down the length of his spine. They were playing with him, tempting him, and the human in him didn’t know or didn’t care. The human thought they were asking for his company, offering friendship. The human was an idiot who yearned for companionship.

His cat, on the other hand, was a solitary animal who needed no one and nothing, but food and sleep. His cat was much stronger. Usually. At this moment, his human craved contact and Ethan could not fight it down. Between the drugs and that shifter hand—fingers drifting through his fur, over his shoulders and back—he became terribly, fatally weak. Tremors rippled through him.

“Let it go, Ethan.” A bare murmur, as if in comfort. Bram’s voice was a lure and a betrayal. A false source of comfort.

Ethan refused to let it go. He fought hard to stay what he was, focusing on his cat, fighting down his human while those beguiling fingers softly stroked his exposed neck. Despite his best efforts, the blackness took him.

Chapter Two

Ethan lay on his back.

He never lay on his back. It was too narrow, the cougar’s back, and much more comfortable to lie on his side. He attempted to roll over and his body resisted. Odd. His shoulders were too broad, his legs wrongly shaped, his tail…gone.

Panic. He pulled in air and scrabbled, trying to sit up. He couldn’t see, couldn’t move limbs properly. A noise came from his throat, and it sounded all wrong—human. God no.

Something pushed at him to rise. A hand. Hands. Someone behind him. Human-shaped. Arms surrounded him, clamped down on his wrists, wrapping his own arms around him like a human straightjacket. A chest pressed against his back.

Made no sense. Prepare for attack. Cat… Think! Air pulled in again. Breathe, Ethan.

“Easy.” A murmur.

Ethan bolted. No. Tried to bolt, but couldn’t move, could only shake. He wasn’t paralyzed, but confined. The clasp became a vise, and legs pressed down on his own while arms tightened around his. Someone enveloped him. How? Why?

He heard a keening noise and came to recognize that his own throat was making it.

“You’re all right, but you need to calm down.”

The voice spurred Ethan to fight harder, and he strained against the muscles and bones that held him. He was strong, even in human form, but not more powerful than this cage of arms, legs, back. He needed to shift. Cat. Cat. He needed to think to shift.

“Don’t fight. No one is going to hurt you.” The timbre of the voice gave his captor away, as did the strength that held him.

Wolf. Ethan was entrapped by a wolf. The thought tore at him and his heart banged harder, threatening. Everything threatened. His world started to turn gray and he battled to hold on. God knew what they’d do to him once he passed out.

“Easy.” It was an effort for the stranger to hold him. The wolf actually nuzzled the side of Ethan’s neck, a classic wolf-calming technique, but it worked on wolves, not him. Ethan would have tried to crack his captor’s head, but he was shaking too hard and he was held too tight. Ethan had lost control. Weak, lost.

“Ethan.” A soothing voice, deceptive, and yet some of Ethan’s energy leached away. Human curiosity rose within him, tentative but building despite the terror. Goddamn human. It coaxed Ethan to not want to fight. It created this terrible longing within him.

It made Ethan recognize that the wolf knew his name. And ask the question, How?

Cat. Ethan needed to shift so he could fight. His cat could outfight any wolf. His stupid human would want to make friends. Jesus.

Breathe for a moment, Ethan. Get yourself together and you can shift, wolf or no wolf.

“That’s it.”

His shuddering breaths went in and out. God, he couldn’t find it in him to shift. Why not? Where was his cat? It was as if this human contact—no matter that the male was really a wolf—suppressed Ethan’s cat. Instead his human wanted to ask questions.

The stranger eased his hold slightly. Not enough that Ethan could do anything, just to make him more comfortable.

He had never been held like this, and it felt unsafe. He shouldn’t try to speak, but his human ignored that warning.

“I can’t see,” he managed though a long-disused throat. It hurt a little to talk.

“Open your eyes.”

His eyelids flew open and light struck, blinding him with brightness. He cringed.

“Can you turn down the lamp, please?” The polite request wasn’t directed at Ethan.

Talking to who? There was another person in the room. Of course, Ethan had heard the breathing but hadn’t registered that second presence yet. Panic hit Ethan again, and the wolf increased pressure on arms and legs, an overwhelming embrace. He didn’t want this, but with wolves it sure as hell was not about Ethan’s wants.

“Ethan.” More urgent this time. “You’re safe here, but you need to calm down.”

“Can’t. Can’t.” Fool to admit it, but oh God, there were two wolves, and they were going to rip him open. One would hold him and the other, the blue-eyed one, would bleed him out. The helplessness of it all hurt. He’d spent years avoiding exactly this.

“No one’s going to hurt you.” Why did the wolf say that? Was it a new game? Ethan couldn’t make sense of the situation, especially when his captor rubbed his face against Ethan’s neck, making him shudder in confusion. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’ve been cat too long, okay? It takes some time to think as a human again. But it will come.”

Never mind the human. Cat. But Ethan couldn’t find his other self. His cougar was lost somewhere deep within, fighting to get out, but too far below the human surface to succeed. The internal fight sapped Ethan’s will and the gray came again, a wave he couldn’t stave off.

On sale at My Bookstore and More.

Joely Skye
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/joelyskye/
Feral now available.

My new book, a futuristic m/m romance entitled Poison is now in print!

Available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Books a Million and elsewhere.

I received my own print copies last month and while I loved the cover already, it was even more beautiful in print.

Here’s the blurb:

In this world, trust is hard to find…and the one thing they need to survive.

Tobias Smator lives down his late father’s execution by avoiding the spotlight—and responsibility. He doesn’t mind what people think of him as long as they leave him alone. Still, in this unremarkable half-life he’s fashioned for himself on deceptively low-tech Rimania, he’s not safe from political intrigue. Someone wants him dead.

Alliance operative Geln Marac’s orders for his first assignment were simple: Stay uninvolved. Those orders go out the window, however, when he delivers an antidote to save Tobias from death by poisoning. His reward? Possible betrayal that lands him in the hands of police interrogators. To protect the Alliance, Geln resorts to a temporary mindwipe.

Tobias is fascinated by the amnesiac man who saved his life. But Geln has attracted the attention of the high-powered Lord Eberly, who would use him as a pawn. Rather than sacrifice Geln to the political wolves, Tobias chooses to embrace his heritage.

Geln’s memory reawakens to a precarious situation with no source of protection—except Tobias. There’s only one way forward for both of them.

Trust—or die.

Warning: this book contains hot nekkid otherplanetary manlove.

EXCERPT:

Five hours later, after many tedious but informal questions by Officer Lahane, Tobias returned home to watch his mother fly down the stairs and throw herself on his shoulder, sobbing theatrically. He put an arm around her, though he couldn’t remember the last time they’d hugged and he felt too weary for this kind of display.

“I thought you were going to be imprisoned, or worse.” She pulled back to look at him, as if he’d just come home from a three-month vacation and she was proud of his adventures. She lifted a hand towards his face. “Your cheek is healing nicely.”

“I guess.” It still hurt to talk and he’d been forced to talk all day.

“Did they treat you well?”

“It was fine.”

“Fine? When I’ve been frantic, not knowing what they’d do to you.” A long shaky sigh was wrung from her. Then she brightened a little. “Fortunately, I’ve had Geln to keep me company. He’s been a wonderful distraction.”

Tobias stiffened. “Geln Marac is here?”

“Yes.” His mother turned her head and looked up. Tobias followed her gaze and saw the green-eyed boy leaning on the balustrade observing this tender family scene. He was too young for her, and a worker. She’d hate that. “I needed the emotional support.”

Support? Tobias frowned while Geln grinned as if sincerely glad to see him. He raised one hand and, in a parody of a wave, waggled his fingers.

“I’m pleased to meet you standing, Tobias.” The voice was rich, though not deep, and full of humor.

Geln’s attempt to charm annoyed Tobias. One enthralled Smator was surely more than enough. He didn’t respond to Geln’s greeting, though he kept his gaze on that pretty face as he spoke. “Geln’s a worker, Mother.”

“Worker?” she repeated, tone implying Tobias had made a bad joke.

Geln went very still. With that one word, worker, his friendly smile vanished, his expression dimmed, and Tobias felt regretful, like he’d just lost something.

“The police are very interested in him,” Tobias continued, ostensibly talking to his mother. But he didn’t wish the police on anyone, especially a worker, and Geln deserved the warning. Tobias disliked his mother’s sycophants, but had some loyalty for the man who had helped him vomit up poison. It was why he’d said as little as possible about Geln to the police.

“Geln?” His mother spun around to look up at the young beauty. She spoke too quickly. “What’s Tobias talking about? You can’t be a worker.” Her polished smile was slipping.

“No, I can’t,” he drawled. “But life can get complicated. Excuse me a moment.” He disappeared from view.

She turned back to Tobias. “Worker? Are you sure?”

Tobias felt bad. “That’s what the police said. Look, Mother, I’m exhausted.” Tobias reached for the bell-pull and rang for his man.

They waited in awkward silence, his mother looking away from him, lost in thought.

“The police say he’s a worker?” she asked yet again, this time in a quiet, small voice, right before Sandorl entered the foyer.

“Yes,” Tobias sighed. Perhaps he had just ended a promising relationship, but he hadn’t wanted that man with his mother anyway.

Tobias handed Sandorl his overcoat and trudged up to his room.

Geln slammed his fist against the brick wall, abrading the skin. “Major screw up. Major, major screw up. Damn, damn, damn.”

Kleemach didn’t respond right away. Then it sounded amused. “Sound-damping comes in handy at times, doesn’t it?”

“I am screwed, so screwed. I am—”

“Stop that.” Kleemach’s voice changed, likely a subroutine kicking in. “Breathe slowly and get yourself under control. Now.”

“Major is such a stupid word.” Geln whimpered.

“Calm down, Geln. We’ll handle this.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“You’re not alone.”

In theory, no. Geln had Kleemach’s extensive support. But physically and emotionally Geln was alone, marooned on a feudal planet with an AI floating far above him. It took all of Geln’s will not to scream bullshit. He wrapped his arms around himself and dug fingers into his skin—the dank washroom was cold.

“Okay,” said Kleemach, all business. “Let’s go over this. How much do they know?”

“They believe I’m a worker. They’re going to bloody well interrogate me. Not only do their drugs and violence scare the crap out of me, but I’ll reveal what I know about the cadre. The cadre can be pathetic and violent, but I don’t want to betray them.”

“You have more potent secrets.”

Kleemach didn’t give a crap about the homegrown cadre, a rather motley group of men with unrealistic aspirations that involved overthrowing the government. What the AI didn’t want Rimanians to discover was Alliance espionage. Well, neither did Geln, given that he was a spy. “Yes, Kleemach. Hell knows what the Rimanians will do once they realize I’m an Alliance operative. Hell knows what the Alliance will do.”

“The Alliance is on your side. Don’t be needlessly paranoid, Geln.”

Geln snorted. “From now on I’ll save my paranoia for situations that warrant it.”

Kleemach didn’t answer. Its pauses, rare and unsettling, indicated it was searching for an appropriate response. “We’ll have to convince them you’re elite,” it said in a clipped I’m-on-top-of-this-mess tone. “Why do they think you’re a worker?”

“I don’t know, Klee. But the police told Tobias Smator I am.” His voice was rising again.

“Calm down, man.” Perhaps Klee thought “man” was a term of affection? Though how its affection was supposed to help him now, Geln couldn’t fathom. “We’re going to change your birthright from worker to elite. Though it will take some finagling.”

“I don’t have time.” The strangled words came out between clenched teeth, but that was better than high-pitched panic.

“Yes, you do.” Klee’s voice sounded dismissive, as if it was already working hard on Geln’s case.

It would find a solution, Geln tried to reassure himself. Klee was good at this, it had been specifically created to oversee Geln’s operations. The Alliance wouldn’t just abandon Geln. He was gathering all kinds of useful information, having been accepted as a member of the cadre and as an admirer of the Minister of State’s mistress, just as Peo, his primary operative, had ordered.

Geln’s trembling, now caused by a sweat-induced chill, started up again. He’d been leaning against the brick of the heat-sucking manor trying not to faint. He detached himself from the wall.

“We’ve got time,” Klee continued. “The police aren’t terribly efficient here. They’ve already sent someone to collect you at your lodgings, so don’t go home.”

Geln rolled his eyes. As if he would even consider such a stupid move.

“But get out of this house. Even the police will twig to the fact that you could be here.”

He would leave as soon as his legs could carry him out. It occurred to Geln that he’d better wash his face, get his act together and stop reacting like a total amateur.

“Geln, you’re important, but not that important. The Rimanians haven’t mobilized the entire police force in order to locate you in the next two hours. If you’re careful, they won’t find you this evening. Go to a bar you don’t frequent, say Fargo’s, and keep a low profile.”

Dammit. Klee was winging it, projecting a persona that was programmed to reassure skittish operatives.

Klee’s voice continued on inexorably, smooth and confident. “Contact me once you’re at Fargo’s. In the meantime, I’m setting you up as an elite. That way you’ll get the MRI inquiry and you can lie through your teeth with a little help from our chemical friend, stosh. No Rimanian drugs. No beatings. You’ll get clear. Okay?”

“Yes,” Geln agreed, sounding stronger than he felt. He supposed stosh-induced amnesia was preferable to Rimanian drugs, but he wasn’t keen on a temporary brain-wipe. Even if the memories came back. Mostly.

It would be something of a relief not to think about everything for a while.

“You’ll be fine, Geln.”

“Yeah? Is that what Peo thinks?”

“Your primary operative”—for some reason Klee disliked Geln’s nickname for this woman—“trusts my judgment.”

Klee’s pat answer.

“Right.” Though Geln hadn’t thought it possible, he felt even more desperate than usual to meet his PO. But it wasn’t allowed and, this way, the police would not be able to extract a useful name from him, no matter what drug they fed him.

Well, he had his own secrets. He hadn’t told Klee he’d saved Tobias’s life last night. Why the hell had he done that anyway? Klee, meaning the Alliance, would disapprove. Geln wasn’t to interfere in Rimanian politics, whatever form they took.

But the whites of Tobias’s eyes had yellowed, a symptom of emolio poisoning which smacked distinctly of offworld politics. Geln had had seconds to choose his course of action and saving a life had been the easy moral choice of the moment, even if a little thought tagged Peo as the likely source of the drug. He hoped she wasn’t the poisoner. Hell. No wonder he was so panicked.

But Geln just didn’t have time to dwell on the emergency pill he’d given away last night. He had to concentrate on the crisis at hand. “I’ll need my cover, Klee, and I’ll need to believe it.”

“I’ll get you one. Stay out of the police’s way until we talk again.”

To learn more about me, visit my website or my yahoo group.

Well, my latest cover recently went up on the coming soon pages and that’s pretty much all I can think about. As lovely as the two men are, my favorite part of it may be the lower half, with the wolf, cougar and scenery. (Yes, Anne Cain does amazing work. Yes, this is a cat shifter/werewolf story.)

A while back I rented a video about the Sawtooth wolf pack titled Living with Wolves by Jim and Jamie Dutcher. This pack isn’t wild, but rather wolves raised by humans and allowed to live in an observation camp. So presumably some differences in behavior between this pack and wild packs exist. (Although packs in the wild vary quite a bit too.)

One aspect of pack living that got a lot of attention in this video were the omega wolves. There was always one and sometimes two (one of each sex), depending on the size of the pack. Life as an omega wolf wasn’t easy. In the wild, they could have left the pack and struck out on their own, for better or worse, but this was never an option in the ten-acre fenced-in area.

The other interesting thing was that, at least for females, their position could switch. One female seemingly heading for omega status was unexpectedly chosen by an alpha as his mate. Hence, she became alpha. Later in her life though, she returned to omega status.

Omega was definitely a role that someone seemed to need to play. They ate last and only when allowed, they had to appease the alpha at all costs, and they sometimes snuck off to have some time to themselves. One alpha-omega pair were brothers, about the same size, but with utterly different personalities. Jamie Dutcher actually became very close to that omega wolf and would visit with him when he went off on his own. Though she felt she had to be careful that other wolves didn’t notice their special relationship, get jealous and punish the omega for it.

It was hard not to feel indignant on the poor wolf’s behalf and he did tend to wear an unhappy expression rather constantly. And yet, his alpha brother did care about him, and this is shown at the end of the film when the wolves were moved to a new home. They were moved in crates, and the film-makers were careful to let the omega wolf out last, so the other wolves, higher in the hierarchy, were not offended that he emerged from the crates first. As it happens the omega was too timid to come out right away, even after everyone else had, so the alpha returned to the crates to coax him along, and reassure him. It was actually quite moving.

In this book I’ve written, Feral, one of things I try to explore is an omega’s werewolf’s life. And what happens when he finds he can no longer obey his alpha.

Joely Skye
Books at Samhain

My werewolf romance Marked is available in print this October. It was great to see it up on Amazon and it will be even greater when it is available—very soon now.

To give you a taste, here’s the blurb and an excerpt.

BLURB
Marked as prey, Alec refuses to fall for a werewolf. Until he’s forced to turn to Liam for protection.

Alec Ryerson carries a scar over his heart and scars on his psyche, ugly reminders of a nightmare that still doesn’t seem quite real. Even a year later, he stays inside on full-moon nights and avoids most people—until he meets the strange and beautiful Liam.

Liam feels an undeniable pull toward Alec. However Liam is a werewolf; Alec is a human who clearly has trepidations about a relationship. Then Liam discovers he is not the first werewolf Alec has encountered. Alec has been marked for death by the murderous “quad”, a group of twisted werewolves who prey on humans. Now the quad’s sights are set on recruiting Liam’s eight-year-old brother into their murderous pack.

Liam will do everything in his power to protect both his brother and Alec from the wolves, even if it means calling in favors and killing those with whom he once ran.

Because Alec, like it or not, is Liam’s chosen mate.

Warning, this title contains the following: explicit male/male sex.

EXCERPT
Outside of Alec’s apartment building, Liam sat on the curb. It was the least threatening place he could imagine waiting. He didn’t want to hassle Alec at work and he didn’t want to lurk by Alec’s door on the third floor. No doubt Alec would find the curb close enough to home.

Liam sighed. The library closed at five p.m. on Tuesdays. Ira and Casey had seen Alec at work today, so Liam just planned to wait here. Of course Alec might be out and about for hours. That was okay since Liam could be patient and the damp cold didn’t bother him. He had a werewolf’s metabolism. An hour and a half passed.

Just before dusk, he saw Alec out of the corner of his eye. Liam didn’t turn. He kept his shoulders loose, his hands dangling between his legs, his breathing regular. Let Alec choose to approach him, though if he didn’t, Liam would have to think up another strategy. He dreaded engineering some fake surprise meeting. Given his experience with the quad, Alec would not take stalker behavior in stride, no matter Liam’s motives.

Alec stopped and, after what seemed an eternity, walked over. He didn’t offer a greeting.

Looking up, Liam attempted a smile. “Um, hi, Alec.”

“What are you doing here?” Alec stared down, dark eyes flat and dull, and Liam didn’t think just the sight of him made Alec unhappy. He looked beaten down.

Liam pushed himself to standing and dusted off his hands. Alec stepped back, as if he knew Liam wanted to kiss him. Alec’s mouth was perfect, the way it dug up when he was pleased or down when he was not. Like now. Still, sexy as hell.

Alec began to glower at the inspection.

Don’t show dominance. Liam looked away. “Would you like to go for coffee?”

“No.”

Liam scratched the back of his head. “Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Because you’re marked. “Ira is worried about you.” Okay, true, but a stupid thing to say.

Alec frowned and stayed silent. Obviously he didn’t think it his job to make conversation.

Liam wasn’t sure how to move forward. This meeting had gone more smoothly when he’d played out the scene in his mind—Alec, while wary, had been happy to have company.

“Look, would you stop staring at me like that?” Alec demanded.

Crossing his arms, Liam turned slightly. What he really wanted to do was slink away before he revealed just how awkward he felt. Especially when he longed to appear sophisticated in front of Alec.

“Liam,” Alec said more gently. “I think it’s better we don’t see each other, okay?”

“Well.” Liam forced himself to put it out there. He didn’t know how else to reach Alec. “I rather like you.”

“Sorry.” The dismissal would have hurt more if Liam hadn’t smelled Alec’s panic.

“Alec,” Liam said quickly because Alec was turning to go to his building.

He looked back, tensing up.

“I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alec held up a hand. “Never mind. Just drop it, okay? And leave me alone.”

“Who do you see?”

Alec paused.

Liam answered his own question. “No one. You hide out here on your own.”

Breathing too hard, Alec just stood there.

Don’t reach for him. Do not reach for him. “Why?”

Unconsciously, Alec lifted his right hand to the left side of his chest and Liam’s stomach gave a sickening lurch.

“Look, I’ve had a real crappy day and…” Alec’s shoulders slumped. He shook his head. “What the hell. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Nothing does. Come on up.”

It mattered and it wasn’t the most enthusiastic of invitations, but Liam took it.

Trudging up the stairs, Alec didn’t see how his day could get worse, but Liam could always prove him wrong.

His job, Alec was going to lose his job. It was the only thing he had. The only thing. Books and kids. They kept him grounded. He would unravel when his life became a complete void.

Sharon. Alec rolled his eyes. Always so enthusiastic about his “lifestyle”—not that he even had a lifestyle these days—and while it had grated on his nerves to have her work the fact he was gay into most conversations, he had accepted it. Because she meant well and because she had got him the goddamned job in the first place.

But today Sharon had been loud. Their boss overheard “boyfriend” and wanted an explanation. Okay, legally he couldn’t fire Alec for sexual orientation and Alec was probably overreacting but, fuck, he could not afford to lose the job. It would be simple to claim Alec had no credentials. Since he didn’t. Sharon had helped him lie on the application form. It wouldn’t take much effort to show that Alec had been hired on false pretenses.

And now Liam was here, sensitizing Alec’s skin and shaking his nerves.

He dug in his pocket for his keys. Beside him, Liam stood, ever watchful. Graceful, sexy…and totally bizarre. A stalker to boot. Alec’s taste in men had gone down the toilet these last two years. He hadn’t thought he could do worse than feckless Bill.

Alec walked in, threw his keys and wallet on the table and went to the fridge for a beer. He opened one for Liam, silently gave it to him, then sat on a chair.

He would not speak, dammit, though Liam evidently felt at a loss for words. A part of Alec wanted to help out, but he didn’t have the energy to make awkward conversation.

He didn’t even have the energy to look at Liam. Those golden eyes and beautiful face made him weak in the knees.

Liam sighed, exhaling shaky despair. When Alec lifted his gaze, Liam immediately did the same. The golden boy looked a little lost. Which didn’t explain what he was doing here, even if it eased something within Alec.

“Are you going to jump on me today?” Alec asked.

Liam grimaced. “No. I’m sorry about the other night.”

Alec guzzled some beer, ignoring the apology. “Then why are you here?”

Avoiding Alec’s eyes, Liam muttered, “I have a request.”

“Okay.”

That sigh again. It rather got to Alec. If either he or Liam were halfway normal, they might be able to start something. But not like this, not like this.

Liam hunched forward.

“Yes?” demanded Alec, impatient.

“Would you take off your shirt?” Liam winced while he asked.

“No.” Keeping hold of his temper, Alec put down his beer and stood. “There’s your answer. You can leave now.”

“Christ.” Liam looked away. The man’s desperation made Alec uneasy. He’d invited Liam up because he just didn’t care about anything. But apathy never lasted long and he was beginning to care enough to be unnerved by Liam’s behavior.

“I want you to leave.”

“Look.” That intense gaze of Liam’s pinned Alec. “I promise you I will be out that door in a heartbeat. Just take off your shirt.”

Marked is up at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Borders, and Booksamillion.

Joely Skye
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/joelyskye/
Feral coming in 2009