Werewolves--furry pains in the butt. Werecats--sneaky
whisker-twitching manipulators. Reinn hated them all. But
most of all, he hated his job. Guardian of the Blood. What
a crock.
The Mackenzie council, in its infinite stupidity, had
ordered him to protect the purity of the clan’s bloodline.
What purity? They were all just a bunch of bloodsuckers,
for crying out loud. Besides, how could he destroy a clan
member for mating with someone not on the council’s
approved list when the very sight of a certain little
werecat revved his engine?
Kisa Evans made it impossible for him to think about
anything but the dangerous fantasy of freeing his own
inner beast. No matter how he fought the desire to feel
the soft heat of her throat beneath his lips, the craving
only grew. Kisa might be the enemy, but he longed to show
her the sensual pleasure to be found in...
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