Title Claimed by the Vampire, Seduced by the Werewolf
Author Kryssie Fortune
Genre Erotic Paranormal Romance
Publisher Loose id
After seven centuries, Elias, a former Spartan turned vampire, finds his eternal bride.
Seth, Elias’s werewolf half-brother, scents his mate.
Vampire and werewolf loathe each other. The only thing they agree on is that Tempest is their mate–and they’re not sharing.
A prophecy will force Tempest, a twenty-first-century witch, to choose between them. As the half-brothers vie to win her heart, they teach her about spanking, the way pain heightens pleasure, and the joy of multiple orgasms.
A vampire can’t survive without his fated bride. A werewolf dies if he loses his mate. Their future rests in Tempest’s hands. Which one will she choose?
In the deserted street outside Tempest’s workplace, a golden werewolf threw back his head and howled. The faint scent of his mate tickled his nostrils, sweet and floral with a hint of spice. Seth breathed deeply, drawing it into his lungs. He couldn’t stay here, since a mythological creature walking York’s streets would cause a panic. People would run from his eight-foot werewolf form. Some might have an adrenaline rush and attack him. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass Hades by injuring humans or ending up in the newspapers.
Seth shifted to human and pulled on the black jeans and leather jacket Hades had left him. As Hades had promised, he found the key to his hotel suite in his pocket. A little luxury wouldn’t go amiss after the endless bland days in the Elysian Fields. Being dead wasn’t all Seth expected it to be. He’d lacked purpose or goals. Having a mission made him feel truly alive, even if it had meant turning werewolf to accept it.
Back in the underworld, his cheeks had ached from the constant smiling, and he’d found the endless joy galling. His riding skills had been the pride of his human existence, but the horses in the Elysian Fields behaved more like oversized puppies than wild stallions. Bored, he’d meandered through the afterlife, grinning like a loon and hating every moment.
Finally, Hades had taken pity on him. Now Seth had a task to fulfill and a mate to claim. It wouldn’t take long to drag the traitor Elias back to his cell in Tartarus. The selfish bastard deserved every torment he suffered after almost plunging the ancient Macedonian kingdom into civil war.
Afterward, Seth would enjoy some serious loving with the woman who smelled of wildflowers and freedom. Before he set out, Hades had given him her name—Tempest—and sworn she wouldn’t be able to resist Seth’s charms. Their connection would seethe with intensity and need. Thinking about it left him aching inside. Once he found her, he’d woo her with expensive gifts and pretty words. Although, maybe he’d spank her pretty ass first.
Elias battled the dark hunger inside him. Tempest’s well-being mattered more than his unnatural thirst. While he wanted to claim her, he’d treat her with the respect she deserved.
Boom. An explosion echoed through his skull, so loud it almost deafened him. Boom. It sounded again. Boom. His muscles tensed, and he scanned the room for danger. Boom. Realization dawned. Tempest made him whole and set his heart beating for the first time in centuries. Bride. She’s my bride. The Tuchulcha demons will hurt her to hurt me.
Werewolves had fated mates, but vampires had brides—the one woman who made their heart beat. Tempest was his, and he’d never willingly leave her side. The depth of his emotions scared him more than the Persian hordes, but humans married, not mated. What if she didn’t feel the same?
His heart pounded in a series of explosions. Heat flowed through him, warming his blood and delighting his soul. His pulse beat like a war drum in his wrist. The longer he stayed with her, the steadier his heart’s rhythm became. Each rise and fall of his chest, each bomb blast of his pulse rocked his world.
Warmth suffused his body. His thoughts seemed sharper, and his pain faded into insignificance beside his need to love and protect his bride. He’d heard legends of how vampires’ brides brought new life to their soul mates, but he’d never expected to find a bride of his own. The idea both terrified and delighted him.
After so many centuries of suffering, he barely remembered how it felt to be human, but his timing sucked. He’d never wanted a woman the way he did Tempest, but figuring out how to claim her… Well, he’d climb that mountain once he’d dealt with the demons he knew would come after him.
Her wildflower essence mingled with the soft swish of her blood, tempting him like nothing ever had before. The sweet sound of it pulsing through her veins had him running his tongue over his dry lips. The need to taste her hardened into an obsession. His mouth watered, and his retractable fangs dropped.
Unaware of her danger, she stormed out the room. “You don’t want a doctor? It’s your funeral, but I’m still going to wash all the blood and grime off your body.”
A funeral? Something else he’d never had. In Sparta, unless you died in battle or childbirth, nobody gave a damn. No funeral. No headstone. Just a lifeless body festering in a dank pit.
His Spartan wife—the woman who’d murdered him while he slept—would have slit his throat for the “or else” he’d thrown at his angel earlier. Then again, Cynisca had done that anyway. Elias hadn’t loved her, but he hadn’t expected her to condemn him for being born Macedonian. Besides, after living in Sparta for twenty-five years, he remembered little about his birth land. Staying behind while his fellow warriors fought at Thermopylae had been humiliating.
“Guarding our homes and watching our backs,” King Leonidas had called it.
Elias had known better. Considering the things he’d endured in the afterlife, it seemed unimportant now. He hadn’t expected to survive, let alone thrive under the Spartan regime. He’d been too damn angry to die for his family’s satisfaction. As the eldest son of the Macedonian king, he should have enjoyed a pampered upbringing. Instead, he’d endured the worst things Spartan culture could throw at him. No way would he stand aside and let one of his half-brothers take the Macedonian throne.
The demons had shown him his half-brothers laughing as they basked in their father’s love. They’d had everything while he’d suffered thirteen years of misery and Spartan abuse. Life in the agoge had been harsh and frightening for a seven-year-old, but after the torture he’d endured in the underworld, it seemed like a walk in the park.
Kryssie Fortune writes the sort of hot sexy books she loves to read. If she can sneak a dragon into her paranormal books she will. Her paranormal heroes are muscular werewolves, arrogant Fae, or BDSM loving dragons.
Kryssie likes her contemporary heroes ex-military and dominant. Her heroines are kick ass females who can hold their own against whatever life – or Kryssie – throws at them.
Kryssie’s pet hates are unhappy endings, and a series that end on a cliff hanger.
Her books are all standalone even when part of series. Plot always comes before sex, but when her heroines and heroes get together, the sex is explosive and explicit. One review called it downright sensual.
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