[Spell of the Shifters 02] • Ethan's Wolves

Journalist Ethan is enjoying his new job in Paris as features editor on an entertainment magazine - and he's especially enjoying his relationship with the impossibly sexy deputy editor Guillaume. But there's only one problem: Guillaume is a shifter. And when he invites Ethan to hang out with his pack for the evening, both of them are unaware of the dangers Ethan is about to face.

Warning: This short but highly charged erotic romance (8100 words) contains one cute but naive LA music correspondent, a heartstoppingly hot pack of Parisian wolves, an unconventional game of laser tag and some very graphic sex scenes. Not suitable for under-18s.

Excerpt

I wasn't convinced that mojitos and laser tag were the most sensible combination, but then neither was the idea of being the only human in a contest full of wolves. I tried not to think about it and simply regard them as hot guys. At least until I was forced to confront the reality.

If I'd found Guillaume's pack charming and welcoming, the Belgian wolves were another prospect entirely.

Leather-clad, dark and unshaven, they hovered outside the arena, unsmiling.

The guy at the front, who was obviously the Alpha (I'd only learnt this terminology recently, after prodding the reluctant Guillaume for an explanation), sniffed the air as we arrived. His teeth were yellow and looked distinctively like fangs. I felt deeply uncomfortable.

He barked something at Thomas as we approached - and his voice really did sound like more of a bark than any human intonation I had ever heard.

"En Anglais, s'il vous plait," affirmed Thomas smoothly. "One of our number does not speak French."

"And that would be the same one of your number who does not carry the blood of the wolf?" asked the rough-voiced leader, sarcastically.

"Calm down, Dirk," said Antoine. "Who invented the rule that you have to be wolf to carry a laser gun? If we were out in the woods, perhaps it would not be so wise. But I do not understand what difference it makes."

"Whose mate is the human?" demanded another one of the Belgians. "It is bad enough that the males of your pack couple with other males. But to couple with male humans..."

He left his sentence unfinished but spat on the ground to emphasize his point. I felt chilled by the hatred emanating from them.

"He is no one's mate," answered Guillaume quietly. "Perhaps one day, but at this moment he is a friend who is eager to learn something of our ways before he involves himself further."

I felt nervous yet excited inside when Guillaume said, "Perhaps one day" - and I understood that this evening was far more important for both of us than he had let on.

I felt it was some kind of test, and if I passed it, then I could pass deeper into Guillaume's world. Since the first night we spent together, he had not made any reference to wanting me as his mate, whatever that meant, so I knew it was significant.