There is an on-going war between two breeds of immortal warriors who carry human, vampire, and werewolf blood, the Cynn Cruor and the Scatha Cruor. The Cynn Cruor wants to live in harmony with the human race. The Scatha Cruor wants to enslave them. Finn Qualtrough, a Cynn Cruor warrior is on a mission to find Dac Valerian, the leader of the Scatha Cruor responsible for the deaths of many, including his parents. When he pursues three Scatha warriors who can lead him to Dac, he happens upon a woman who awakens a desire within Quinn to claim her as his own.
She is the very essence of his immortal life.
Eirene Spence is an insomniac and a computer genius who loves walking in the park at midnight. She stumbles upon the Scatha Cruor and is almost killed until a handsome stranger rescues her. His touch ignites a hunger inside her that only he can satisfy.
He is her soul.
By some twist of fate, one of Eirene’s clients is Dac Valerian. She is able to tell Finn and the rest of the Cynn Cruor where Dac is hiding. Now Dac wants her dead.
Will Finn be able to keep Eirene alive and at the same time fulfill his mission? Will Eirene’s wish to be part of Finn’s life come true knowing that he is destined for someone else?
Finn’s chest constricted with an unfamiliar emotion. The desire to please Eirene and see her happy replaced the need to simply slake his lust. There was a fissure on the wall he had built around his heart, allowing a ray of tenderness for the woman beneath him to shine through. He intensified the kiss and at the same time thrust hard into her. She cried out against his mouth, her breath harsh and staccato like. Finn moved, in and out, swiveling his pelvis against hers. Eirene lifted her hips, her head falling back in ecstasy. She made small sounds every time Finn’s pelvis moved against hers with quick thrusts.
Finn looked down at Eirene’s body, from her breasts and puckered nipples down to her stomach and her trimmed mound. Her entire body was flushed with the aura of intense arousal. He groaned when her channel clamped around his cock. Eirene’s breasts quivered faster and faster as Finn thrust harder and deeper, eliciting deeper moans and cries from her. He leaned over to latch onto Eirene’s exposed neck. He kissed and licked until he gently sucked the skin over her pulse, bringing the vein into sharp relief. He sucked hard without using his fangs.
“Yes!” Eirene turned her head giving him her neck.
The taste of her blood filled Finn’s mind, exploding through his neurons.
Along with her taste came an astounding piece of knowledge.
Eirene was a Cynn Cruor mate.
The question now was whether she was his. His scent needed to be on her when a Cynn Cruor brethren smelled her. It was a scent undetectable by a purely human nose. If he marked her, then whether she accepted it or not, she belonged to him. She was his mate.
The taste of her salty, sweet skin drove him wilder. He knelt on both knees as he covered Eirene’s body with his. Finn held on to her hips, thrusting harder, deeper, and faster. He groaned as his balls tightened, slapping against her backside. Eirene’s cries came in puffs of ecstasy until she screamed her climax. Her weeping sex throbbed and gripped Finn’s manhood in a snug vice, milking him as he went in and out until he growled and finally shouted his release against Eirene’s neck, calling out her name. His seed spurted into her womb, bathing and warming it. His heartbeat pounded inside his ribcage, the warmth of their coupling spreading through him like the fire in a forge. He held himself up over Eirene with both his arms braced beside her head. He was about to withdraw from her when she placed her hands on his hips.
“Please don’t go,” she said softly. “Not yet.”
Finn let his forehead dip against Eirene’s even as she lifted her mouth for a long and sensual kiss. Eirene’s arms crept under his arms and over his back. By the Ancients, he loved the way her hands smoothed over his sweat-slicked skin. He felt her racing heart slowly turn to a semblance of normalcy as his own heartbeat thrummed back to a slower pace.
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Alec and Tamsyn know they are meant to be together though they have never met. And yet their passion for each other consumes them when they dream. Alec knows that Tamsyn is the woman for him, but finding her at the moment is an impossibility. Or is it? After resigning from her job, Tamsyn takes a break in Scotland when she feels the presence of the man who haunts her dreams. He is tangibly near and in Edinburgh. The sex they have in her sleeping moments becomes more real. But how can she find him in the streets of Edinburgh when the only thing she remembers is his touch, his scent, his passion?
Alec rose above her to look at her face and kiss-swollen mouth. Her chestnut brown hair spread around her. Her sweet breath fanned the flames around them, then he closed his eyes as he shuddered. She held him firmly in her hands and her fingers around his cock were driving him insane. His breath was harsh as he looked down. His cock was painfully stiff and upright above her mound. He groaned as she continued rubbing him before she pushed him gently onto his back. He looked at how her hands perfectly held him. Up and down they went. He was mesmerized, his desire driving him to thrust against the snug ring her hands made. Her nipples were puckered, ripe and beckoned to him to take them again. He cupped them and circled his thumbs against them until she let out a low, throaty moan. Alec looked at her face. Her mouth was parted, her tongue licked her lower lip, her eyes dilated with unspent desire. He placed a thigh between her legs and pulled her hips down against it to rub her. She moaned in delight, as his thigh bathed in her juices. He closed his eyes as he imagined her sweet juices around his cock when he entered her later, bathing him with her need. When she splayed kisses over his stomach, Alec’s pulse raced further. He could feel his cock straining impatiently but she took her time. Then he felt her tongue against the underside of his shaft before she swallowed him. He groaned out his pleasure as his head pressed deeper into the pillow. His hips bucked and he gave in to the sweetness of her mouth. He thought he would go out of his mind when she looked up at him before he felt rather than saw her swirling her tongue inside her mouth against his pulsating rod. Alec held her hair away from her face as he watched her enjoying him. He hissed when she purred and the vibrations thrummed through his sensitive member. She sucked him, alternating between fast and languid, between short and deep throat strokes. Alec’s body trembled. He knew if she didn’t stop he would come. In less than a second Alec lifted her and lay her on the bed.
Leaning on one hand, Alec caressed her hip again before making its way to her wet slit. He looked up and saw her eyes widen and close halfway as she continued to move her hands up and down him. A trickle of pre-cum oozed out of him. Her forefinger swiped at it and brought it up to her mouth at the same time his finger entered her. She moaned and gasped at the same time and lifted her hips against him. She cried out when his thumb encircled her soaked pleasure nub. Then he placed a second finger inside her. Alec needed to taste her. It was one of the things he always looked forward to. He kissed her hard then licked the mole on her hip before he knelt between her thighs.
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Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend.
Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.
Amazon Author page: http://www.amazon.com/author/isobellecate