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This mysterious we again. His curiosity was piqued. If she had a man at home, she wouldn’t invite him over for dinner, would she? But he hadn’t expected an invitation to her home at all, so Alice was already proving to be a source of confusion to him.
“I like pizza.”
“If you didn’t, I don’t think we could be friends.”
Friends.
That was totally what Alex had in mind.
Surviving will take a miracle. Happily Ever After’s going to take two.
Enigma
© 2014 Moira Rogers
Southern Arcana, Book 6
Anna Lenoir has always fought. First to escape her broken childhood, then to prove a female shapeshifter can stand shoulder to shoulder with the men. Now she fights for money, and her reputation is as legendary as her stone-cold heart. She’s never met a man she couldn’t walk away from.
Until him.
Bounty hunter Patrick McNamara has a scary reputation of his own, along with mysterious powers linked to his many tattoos. On the clock, they’re the perfect supernatural-crime-solving team. After hours, she’s ready to rock his world. But Patrick won’t settle for just her body, and Anna’s better at breaking homes than making them.
When the heir to the Southwest council goes missing, their combined skills are the best chance of averting a territory war. But the hunt will drag them through the most vulnerable parts of their broken pasts. Daring to risk her heart might be the first fight she loses, and the stakes have never been higher.
Because Patrick will sacrifice anything for her. Even his life.
Warning: Contains cheap motel rooms, gas station chili dogs, supernatural politics and a literal flaming sword. Also, sex. Angry sex, dirty sex, sweet sex and thank-god-you’re-alive sex between a tough-as-nails heroine with a fragile woobie heart, and a dangerous hero who will sacrifice anything to love her.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Enigma:
She hated this part.
Anna never bothered to tell anyone how much she disliked hunting because she wasn’t sure they’d believe it. People, as a general rule, wanted to think things were simple. Easily classified. She was good at tracking, even better at eliminating threats. Knowing she hated every moment of it wouldn’t fit with anyone’s expectations of a badass bounty hunter.
She stopped in her tracks as a breeze kicked the scent of iron and cotton into her nose. Anna pushed through the dense foliage of the forest floor and found a torn T-shirt under a pitcher plant, the blood so fresh it could only belong to the man she was tracking.
Wolf. Forgetting wouldn’t do either of them any good. He wasn’t a man, had tried to be one again and failed because he’d discovered his human body didn’t fit right anymore. That was why he was there.
Why she’d followed.
She picked up the trail and ran, nose to the ground, paws rustling through the moss and ferns. The track ended in a shallow stream, little more than a trickle, and Anna growled.
If she didn’t find him…
Doubts were indulgences—wasn’t that what the Conclave instructors always said? Every moment wasted on second-guesses was a moment someone could die.
One path beyond the stream led farther into the depths of the bayou. The other, back toward the tiny town whose scant lights twinkled through trees heavy with Spanish moss. Intellect told her the darker path was too facile, too obvious. If she were on the run, she’d head toward town, double back and catch her pursuer at his heels.
But the man had come here because his wolf had pushed down everything rational in his mind and let instinct take over. Instinct would tell him to flee from signs of man, to take to the woods and stay there. Live as the animal he was.
If it were that clear-cut, Anna would have been content to leave him be. But the man would always push back, struggle to reassert control over the beast. Sooner or later, the memory of what he’d once been would drive him to seek out humanity—with disastrous, deadly results.
Anna took the dark path and forged deeper into the swamp.
Too much thinking, and it almost got her. She rounded the end of a fallen tree and stumbled into a small clearing—the perfect place for an ambush.
Her paws dug into the earth as she scrambled back, but the sharp snap of a twig heralded the attack. The feral wolf sprang from the cover of the trees to her left and took her down hard. She twisted, barely avoiding the massive jaws aimed at her throat.
