Hi, there! Rebecca Hamilton here to tell you how SUPER excited we are to bring you this MEGA giveaway! First place prize is a $1,000 Amazon Gift Card, but we also have 12 runner up ebook and paperback prizes! Entering will connect you with 21 paranormal romance and urban fantasy authors for more great deals, freebies, and giveaway, so in a way, everyone wins!
Before you enter the giveaway, check out an excerpt of ROGUE HUNTRESS by Thea Atkinson, one of the authors sponsoring the giveaway!
This wasn’t going at all as I planned. I looked from one man to the other, realizing the quiet message that had passed between them, and exactly what implications it had for me. "You can’t mean –"
"That’s exactly what I mean," Caleb said, throwing me a snide smile. "I can’t leave you alone, not even to take a piss. Although I hate to share sight of your most voluptuous form with any other man, at least he’s just a human, and a good alpha does what he must for the good of his pack."
"They’re not your pack," I ground out.
His gaze traveled across the room to where the rather overly done and posh en suite bathroom waited. "You have exactly one hour," he said. "Make it worth my wait."
I watched him leave, pulling the door that shut off the suite from the portico closed behind him with quiet rage. I was still chewing over a dozen different ways I was going to kill him when I felt Jeb’s hands pull my wrists toward him through the bars. I winced as the silver burned my skin, and before I realized what he was doing, he had the silver handcuffs snapped closed around them.
"You can’t be serious," I said, breathing through the pain. "How can I take a bath like this?"
Jeb shrugged. "The quicker we get it over with, the quicker you’ll have them off."
He unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.
"I already have a bullet embedded in my shoulder. What the hell do you think I can accomplish?" I said, watching him lock the door and toss the key on the other side and realizing I’d wasted a chance to escape.
"The cuffs aren’t for control," he said. "They’re for containment. The bullet is for control."
"Bastard," I said. "I’ll dig the fucking thing out myself."
His sandy brow quirked. "Be my guest," he said. "Go at it."
"What does he have on you?" I demanded, but instead of answering, he disappeared into the en suite bath, and I heard the sound of the taps running water into the tub.
"It won’t work you know," I shouted toward the door. "I might not be able to transform, but neither am I going to soap up into some revolting froth for a sick wolf’s fantasy or for yours either."
I squirmed as I stood shackled to the bars. Everywhere the silver touched set fire to my skin and I had to pant through the pain, focus so I wouldn’t pass out.
He poked his head around the door jam. "You don’t get it, do you?"
"Get what?" I said. "That he wants you to watch me take a bath, get your jollies while I touch myself." I chuckled loud enough that he would get the dripping sarcasm if he missed the message in my next words.
"Oh buddy, I get it. What you don’t get is that there’s no way he’s going to let you live afterwards."
I thought mocking him might make him angry enough to barge back into the room where I could grab him. Worst-case scenario, let me go because he feared for his life. I didn’t expect one sandy brow lifted with seeming amusement.
"You’re not very smart for a bad ass assassin."
I leaned against the bars, careful to let only my clothes touch, and hissed at him. "Come closer and see how smart I am."
He leaned against the doorjamb of the bathroom, crossing one ankle over the other as he crossed his arms over his chest. "About as smart as a bag of hammers."
"Human bastard," I said. "What do you know?"
"I know you’re about ready to sink to your knees from the pain," he said. "I know that you won’t be able to stand that agony for much more than a few more moments. I know that I’m going to have to wrestle you into the tub and then I’m going to have to hold you up out of the water to keep you from drowning as you struggle."
"Struggle," I said, panting as the burning found its way beneath the top layer of skin. "An assassin doesn’t struggle. An assassin goes to war."
"Oh, you’re going to struggle."
"And what makes you say that?"
"Because I’m going to wash that voluptuous body of yours and you’re not going to like it."
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