Home.
Epilogue
A month later.
Coffee. Need more coffee. Vic yawned, squinting at the mid-morning sun. She‘d started work well before dawn. Alec had better take her off this fucking morning shift before she strangled him and left his body on the mountain for the coyotes. No—too classy. For the vultures.
As she cracked open the door to the bookstore, she reached up to quiet the bell before it rang. She liked practicing her stalking skills on Thorson; the old werecat was nearly impossible to sneak up on.
No one was in sight, but voices came from the sitting area. One was Thorson. The other was...Wells? When had Wells arrived in town?
Oh hell. She smoothed her hair back, scowled at her dusty boots. Sloppy, she‘d gotten sloppy. With a frown, she pulled at her khaki uniform, trying to smooth the wrinkles Alec had created earlier when he‘d locked them both in his jail cell and pretended to interrogate her as a spy.
She grinned, remembering the clothespins he‘d used to torture her. Nipple torture. The man was completely warped. Good thing the jail had a shower in the back, or she‘d have smelled like sex all day. She silently finished straightening her clothes, and then edged around the rear shelves for some recon.
Wells and Thorson sat in the comfortable chairs by the crackling fire. Each wore a scowl, but that was normal when the two of them got together.
Wells picked up his coffee, motioned to Thorson with the cup. "I‘ve been thinking. It would be appropriate for you to perform that Death Gift ritual, and make me a shifter when you die.
Considering your advanced age, that shouldn‘t be long now."
Thorson eyed him over the rim of his mug before taking a loud sip. "You annoy me, and you‘ll go tits-up first."
"I‘m not planning to die until I see my grandchildren. Hopefully sometime this century."
Wells frowned slightly as he stared into the fire. "The Sergeant said you shifters can take a long time, and that she‘s in no hurry."
"We leave that in the hands of the Mother." Thorson turned his head and winked at Vic.
Shit, he‘d heard her. Damn werecat.
He turned back to Wells and said casually, "She‘ll name the first-born after me, of course."
Wells stiffened. "I doubt that. You‘re merely a token grandfather whereas I am her—"
The bookstore door slammed open, the bell jangling wildly.
"MomVee, are you in here?" Jamie ran between the shelves, spotted Vic, and wrapped her in a signature-Jamie hug.
"Is something wrong?" Vic lay her cheek against the soft hair. My cub.
"Yes. No. Not really." Jamie giggled.
Vic relaxed. "What then?"
"Daddy says there‘s probably going to be a fight, and since you‘re on duty, can you come and keep the bast—um, the bad guys from misbehaving." She whispered to Vic, "Daddy called them bastards, but I‘m not supposed to say that."
"Do you need our help, Sergeant?" Wells asked, starting to rise.
"Nah, I can get it." Vic grinned at Thorson and tossed Wells a mock salute. It was good to be needed. Even better to be loved.
As she reached the door, she heard Jamie whisper to the men, "Daddy said Uncle Alec got more kisses than him this morning, and he needed MomVee at the bar so he could get his share."
Vic was laughing as she stepped out into the bright morning sunshine.
The End.
About the author
I met my dearheart when vacationing in the Caribbean. Now I won‘t say it was love at first sight. Actually since he was standing over me, enjoying the view down my swimsuit top, I might even have been a tad peeved—as well as attracted. But although our time together there was less than two days, and although we lived in opposite sides of the country, love can‘t be corralled by time or space.
We‘ve now been married for many, many years. (And he still looks down my swimsuit tops.)
Nowadays, I live in the west with this obnoxious, beloved husband, two children, and various animals, including three cats who rule the household. I‘m a gardener, and I love nurturing small plants until they‘re big and healthy and productive…and ripping defenseless weeds out by the roots when I‘m angry. I enjoy thunderstorms, playing Scrabble and Risk and being a soccer mom. My favorite way to spend an evening is curled up on a couch next to the master of my heart, watching the fire, reading, and…well…if you‘re reading my books, you obviously know what else happens in front of fires.
~ Cherise
*
Please come and visit me online:
Website: http://www.CheriseSinclair.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/CheriseSinclair
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AuthorCheriseSinclair
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/CheriseSinclair
Here‘s a blurb and excerpt for
Master of the Mountain
by Cherise Sinclair.
A BDSM Full-figured Heroine, Contemporary Erotic
Published by Loose Id.
Brande at Book Junkie says: " I loved it! Every word, every page, every moment until the end! So that is my review in a nutshell........ OK I can do better than that, but seriously a melt your panties right off, intriguing love story that forces you to turn the pages until the wee hours of the night just to get to the end! How about that!”
*Blurb for Master of the Mountain *
When Rebecca's boyfriend talks her into vacationing at a mountain lodge with his swing club, she quickly learns she's not cut out for playing musical beds. Now she has nowhere to sleep. Logan, the lodge owner, finds her freezing on the porch. After hauling her inside, he warms her in his own bed, and there the experienced Dom discovers that Rebecca might not be a swinger…but she is definitely a submissive.
Rebecca knows that no one can love her plump, scarred body. To her shock, lodge owner Logan not only disagrees, but ties her up and shows her just how much he enjoys her curves.
Under his skilled hands, Rebecca not only loses her inhibitions, but also her heart.
Damaged from the war, Logan considers himself too dangerous to be around the enticing little sub. He sends her away for her own safety, not realizing she believes she has once again been rejected because
