Friday the 13th, Excerpt Style!

Writing Status -- Plotting out the rest of DHKM
Mood -- Kinda Tired
Playing on itunes -- Hold Me Now by The Thompson Twins

When the calendar falls on Friday the 13th, I'm always worried something bad will happen.  I know it's a superstition but since I've been aware of it since I was a child, it's ingrained.  Anyhow, I decided to buck tradition by sharing an unedited excerpt of Hunger Undone.  Remember, an editor hasn't had a crack at it and the material is subject to change.

Do you have an excerpt to share? Leave a comment and I'll check it out.  Let's leave the morbidity of the 13th behind for a change.

Have a great weekend!

Hunger Undone Blurb:

Three months ago, jaguar shifter Marshall Mackenzie met his mate. Sultry witch Mira Jones is beautiful, smart, and everything he wants -- there is just one problem. Their introduction was orchestrated by his employer, which meant Marshall was forced to break Mira’s trust in order to uncover the secrets of a magical coven responsible for killing innocents. Mira fled from him when she learned the truth -- both angry and afraid -- but Marshall’s determined to teach the alluring female that while she can run from the hunger that now consumes her, she can never hide.

Hunger Undone Excerpt:

The guard blocking the hallway to the back didn’t give Marshall any trouble, not when he pulled his duster aside, flashed the badge on his belt, and revealed the sidearm nestled under his arm. His notable size and height were usually enough to get the job done, but having the backing of a Browning pistol and Uncle Sam in situations like these certainly didn’t hurt.

Once he stepped past, he took his time, walking confidently toward the back of the building. Nude females crammed the dressing space he entered as he pushed aside the heavy curtain at the end of the hall. Most were staring into the mirrored vanities bolted into the walls, but a few were relaxed on the large leather couch on the far left of the room. He didn’t pay attention to the lusty stares that darted in his direction, transfixed on the red head who stood at a locker directly in front of him with her back turned. She closed the snaps on her blood red bra as he neared, her matching boy short panties already in place, hugging the luscious curves of her ass.

He knew that she could hear him as he approached, as she’d teased him the first night they’d met about his boots and the very distinctive sound they made as he walked. At the time he’d bullshitted his way around her observation, claiming they were the most comfortable footwear around, but what he wanted to tell her was that the heels of his boots were as essential as a belled collar, preventing him from being shot by a comrade when he moved too quietly and caught them off guard.

He smiled at the memory. Even then, the desire to share everything with her was present.

“Stop right there, Marshall,” she said quietly as she turned, sending long tendrils of vibrant, flaming scarlet over her shoulder. “Don’t come one step closer.”

He couldn’t prevent the throaty growl that rose from his chest. Her voice was as sultry as her body and face. So damned sexy he couldn’t help but respond. Blood flowed to his cock, firming the flesh that had not found release in the warm cradle of a female since he’d met the witch who was now scowling at him.

“Do you think you can stop me after I came all this way, darlin’?” he drawled and continued advancing, purposefully ignoring her request.

“I think I could try.” She met his stare without flinching, her hazel irises flashing a beautiful, grass green. “Are you sure you want to go there? You can’t trick me this time.”

He stepped closer to her, placed one hand on the wall just over her head, and whispered as he bowed over her shorter frame, “You’re surrounded by people who I’m wagering don’t know a damned thing about who or what you are. I’m willing to take the chance.”

“Damn you,” she grumbled and peered over his shoulder, undoubtedly validating his observation. When she returned her gaze to him, he could see the fury radiating through her thinned lips and furrowed brows. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t be coy, sweetness.” He brought a hand up, slowly brushed his knuckles over the soft swell of her breast, and grinned when she gasped. Her lower lip quivered, and her cheeks turned an alluring shade of crimson. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know exactly why I’m here.”

Muted whispers sounded from behind, and she caved her chest and moved away from his touch, slapping at his hand. “Don’t touch me.”

He arched a brow at her and leaned closer, until his lips were against the shell of her ear. “Funny, the last time were in this position, you were begging me to touch you all over.”

“Bastard,” she snapped, her eyes shimmering with anger and resentment as she arched her head to glare at him.

She turned and retrieved clothing from the locker. Her hands were trembling as she stepped away to slide into a pair of green velour pants and a matching cotton camisole. The red bra straps were visible underneath and, for some strange reason, the visual revved him up even more. She kept a distance as she folded her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture.

“Well?” she stated defiantly. “What do you want?”

He smiled and she met the gesture with another scowl. “Do you really want me to put you over my shoulder and carry you out of here, Mira?” he asked and noted the wince when he used her given name. The whispers at his back intensified, revealing that she had, in fact, been living under the alias of a dead woman as his sources had revealed when he’d finally struck pay dirt and learned where she had settled down.

She shook her head, struggling for words, and reached past him for the purse hanging from the peg inside the locker. As she closed the rectangular metal door with a click, she sighed. “Fine, we’ll do this somewhere else. But I’m not leaving the club with you.”

“Is that so?” he asked in a husky rasp and stepped into her personal space once more.

“Cut the shit,” she hissed and glanced around them again. Stepping closer, she continued, “Let me guess, you want me to track down someone else? Give you the location of some other soul so you can interrogate them for your bullshit agency?” She laughed, shaking her head. “What’s the plan? Seduce me again? Wait until I’m practically pleading for relief before you bring in the big guns?”

His grin vanished, replaced by anger. He forced his temper to cool before he responded. “I have a room upstairs. We’ll talk there.”

“No way.” She stepped back, placing the bulky purse draped over her shoulder between them, her distrust evident. “I will not go to a room willingly with you. I learned my lesson the last time.”

“You will go with me willingly, or I’ll carry you.” He snagged her arm when she tried to move and turned so that his back blocked out the room, preventing anyone from seeing her. “The last time was a misunderstanding that I take full credit for. I reacted impulsively, and you were embarrassed and hurt as a consequence. But I can promise you that the only big gun you’ll meet tonight” -- he yanked her close, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her against him, until they were hip to hip and she could feel the hard outline of his notable erection -- “will be this one right here, darlin’.”