Psychic Peyton struggles each day to cope with the drudgery of work and routine, except for the nights when she moonlights as a mood bouncer at an upscale gentlemen’s club for shifters. Denied a promotion that will give her the bonus she desperately needs to pay off a debt, she sells her virginity at auction. She finds herself in the arms of the winner - ruthless, powerful alpha wolf Dante Carrington, who shares his prize with his sexy beta wolves - bad boy biker Gabriel and sensitive poet Alexander. They want more than to ravish Peyton’s virgin body for one night. They want to claim her body, heart and soul.
When loan sharks threaten Peyton, Dante whisks her away in his limo to his pack’s private ranch to keep her safe. Dante, Alex and Gabriel are determined to protect Peyton and seduce her until she submits to them … and her own desires. They will take her hard and take her gentle, coaxing her to the heights of a pleasure she has never known. But Peyton is human and knows the rugged world of shifters can be dangerous. Torn between the erotic world she’s plunged into and the familiar, safe surroundings of the human lifestyle, she must choose between listening to her head or following her heart. Because everyone knows when you play with wolves you risk getting hurt… forever.
Excerpt copyright 2018 Bonnie Vanak
My stomach did little flip flops as I ground to a halt. The delicious scent of spices and leather teased my senses. Sweat trickled down my backside, banding in the waistband of my jeans.
“Hello Mr. Carrington.”
One did not hurry past Dante Carrington, alpha wolf of a pack sixty miles north of Cheyenne. Not if one wished to get fired for ignoring the greeting of the club’s wealthiest, and most important, patron.
Dante Carrington. Black hair clipped short, except for the silky hank that hung over his forehead. Eyes dark as night, his facial features handsome and perfect. In his dinner dress, he looked good enough to lick.
Owner of the Bar B Q ranch, also known in were circles as Dante’s Inferno for the excellent cookouts they held each summer. He started coming to the club a year ago.
To his right sat Alexander Smith. Gabriel Sharp sat across from Dante. Both were Dante’s betas in the pack, his close friends. Like the others in the lounge, they wore black silk tuxedos, but they looked elegant and refined. Even the rougher Gabriel, who preferred biker boots and black leather while riding his Harley.
The auras of all three glowed a calm blue. Weres usually had blue auras, except when they were sexually aroused, and then they flared crimson.
“Mr. Smith. Mr. Sharp.” I kept my voice even and friendly, though inside I shook a little. This trio had that effect on me. They oozed masculine power and strength, and sexuality.
Three different males, all different, and all intriguing and handsome.
“Peyton please. How many times have we told you to call us by our first names? No formality needed,” Dante gently chided.
Alexander lifted a hand in greeting, his dark eyes framed by round glasses. Lean and tall, he had curly black hair spilling down to his shoulders and reminded me a little of Jon Snow from Game of Thrones. Alex was smart and shy.
Shifters are physically stronger and healthier than humans. I always suspected Alex wore glasses to hide himself, not because of a defect with his eyesight.
Bad boy Gabriel gave a toothy grin. A short-cropped brown beard covered his lower face, and the black silk jacket hid a body lined with sinew and muscle. Gabriel was the largest of the trio, standing more than six feet, five inches tall with thick muscles and a shock of brown hair streaked gold tumbling down past his broad shoulders.
Thick, dark brows arched over blue eyes that suggested he liked to party hard, but I’d seen those eyes flash with tenderness when he’d wistfully mentioned how much he adored children. I’d also seen them turn stormy when he bristled with rage when someone tried to abuse one of the girls.
No formality? I gave a pointed look at their dinner jackets. “Then why the fancy duds?”
They all chuckled. Dante lifted his glass. “Touché.”
“Not quite so fancy.” Gabriel stuck out a foot covered in black Doc Martens.
Grinning, I showed him my pair – covered with little colorful flowers. Gabriel fist bumped me.
“How are you, Peyton?” Gabriel asked. “We were hoping you’d show up tonight.”
“Peyton Jackson. Our favorite waitress,” Alexander’s smile put me at ease. Usually he was so quiet, you barely knew he was there. I always sensed something deep about Alexander, as if he were a wounded were hiding a secret. Such a sensitive soul.
Still, one had to be mindful these were shifters. With fangs and claws. Never let down your guard around shifters.