Sherrill Quinn
Author Book List

Olivia Felan has a wild side, all right. Even ignoring the fact that she turns furry and feral once a month, her natural style is take-no-prisoners, full-speed-ahead, come-what-may. But when it comes to her little girl, she doesn't take chances.

So when a big bad werewolf alpha steals her daughter, Olivia will do whatever it takes to get her baby back. And in this case, that means killing Rory Sullivan. The trouble is, killing him would mean wasting one sexy beast.

Sully is all man, all cop, and as of late, half wolf. When he meets Olivia, Sully's a little glad he stuck his nose into his friends' business and came out with animal senses - until he gets a whiff of the chaos following her around. Now he has to decide whether he can't take his eyes off Olivia because she's too beautiful - or because she's too dangerous.

Excerpt

Olivia Felan held her daughter close, breathing in the sweet scent of little girl and bubblegum, and tried not to cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

Through the open window she could hear the sounds of New York—horns blaring, tires screeching, sirens. Cool April wind blew into the room.

A shiver rolled down her spine, but it wasn’t the coldness of the air that made her shudder. Thanks to her werewolf metabolism, her internal thermostat ran hot. No, what made her shiver was the thought that she could lose her daughter, that he would take the little girl from her forever. Fear coiled deep in her belly. The sounds of the City That Never Sleeps faded as she let the feel of Zoe in her arms soothe her.

"All right. That’s enough." Brawny hands pulled Zoe out of her arms, though not roughly. "I need to talk to your mother, sweetheart." Dark eyes glanced at Olivia, promising retribution. As he looked down at the six-year-old, stroking gentle fingers over the top of the little girl’s head, there was nothing but tenderness in his expression.

His voice soft, he suggested, "Why don’t you go into your room and play with your dolls?"

That sweet little head with its long, dark curls bobbed. "Okay, Uncle Eddy." Zoe looked at Olivia with a bow- lipped smile. "You’ll read me a story before you go, won’t you, Mommy?"

Olivia nodded and smiled, relieved when her lips didn’t wobble with the fear crushing her from the inside. She didn’t want Zoe to realize what a precarious position she was in— they both were in. "You bet, baby."

Zoe smiled again.

Eddy bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his face softening as he watched her walk down the hallway. "You know I love her as if she were my own. I would hate it if I were forced to carry through on my threat."

But he would, Olivia knew. For the Alpha of the pack to voice an empty threat was full-on stupidity and the surest way to invite a challenge. Eddy was anything but stupid. He might say he loved Zoe, but he’d kill her in a heartbeat.

Olivia had no guarantee that he wouldn’t even if she did manage to do what he wanted.

"I love it when she calls me ‘Uncle Eddy.’ " His voice was indulgent, just like that of a loveable, doting uncle. Of which he was none—neither loveable, doting, nor any relation whatsoever to Zoe.

Olivia waited until the bedroom door had closed behind Zoe before she turned to Uncle Eddy. "I don’t want her calling you that."

His eyes narrowed. "Do I have to teach you—again— that what you want doesn’t matter?" His voice had taken on that raspy quality she could only equate to a snarl. "You’re nothing, Livvie. Nothing, unless I say you’re something. And unless you obey me in this, you’ll forever be nothing."

She forced back the overwhelming urge to attack him, to do something physical to protect her child. But she knew the only way she could protect Zoe—for now—was to accede to Eddy’s wishes.

Someday, though . . .

"No, you don’t have to teach me anything." Olivia dropped her gaze in a submissive pose. She was, after all, the Omega of the pack. The whipping dog. The bitch that took whatever the pack wanted to dish out.

It didn’t make her feel any better to be told she was an integral part of the pack, that she was the one who allowed them to let out their aggression so they could maintain their façade of civility among humans. It was against her nature to roll over and show her belly to anyone. But unless she wanted her throat ripped out, for now she had to submit.

But one day she’d be in a position to assert herself. Just . . .

Not today.

"Good." Eddy sauntered toward her, his thick fingers rubbing against one eyebrow. "Now, what was this you told me over the phone? That Sullivan isn’t dead?"

Olivia drew in a calming breath. "No. I was interrupted. That wouldn’t have happened if John hadn’t played with his food five months ago. His target would be dead, and I’d have had a clear shot at Sullivan."

Eddy’s eyes narrowed. Clearly he was displeased with her tone. Or her excuse. Or both.

She hurriedly switched tactics. "But I know where Sully— Sullivan—is. Or, rather, where he’ll be. He’s gone back to work." She put as much conviction behind her next words as she could. "I can finish the job. I can! I just needed to see Zoe."

God, she despised the wheedling tone of her voice. Three years as the pack’s Omega, and she certainly sounded the part. Damn it.

Eddy began humming a children’s song, and the words to it flitted through her mind. Ring around the rosie, pockets full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.

God. He’d hummed that right before he’d exacted "payment" by killing the family of the last werewolf who’d defied him. It was Eddy’s "tell"—the thing that signaled he was about to become very violent.

She didn’t think he was even aware of it. Just the same, it sent ice down her spine.

"So, now you’ve seen her." Quicker than her eye could follow, he wrapped his hand around her throat and shoved her against the wall.

The back of her head smacked against the hard surface, and she winced. Stars danced briefly before her eyes but quickly faded. It took more than a bang on the head to take down a werewolf.

He brought his face close to hers. The stale smell of cigarette smoke couldn’t be covered up by all the mints he ate. "This is the last time you disobey me without repercussion, Livvie."

She focused on keeping her eyes downcast but otherwise not showing any fear. To show fear showed weakness, and she wasn’t weak. Submissive, yes, but only because she had to be.

Never weak. One day she hoped she could prove that to Eddy with a finality that would take his breath away.

And she’d give him an extra bite just for him calling her Livvie all these years. She hated it.

She hated him.

"I didn’t—"

"Didn’t I tell you not to return to New York until the job was done?" His fingers tightened around her throat. When she started to speak, he gave a low snarl. "Don’t talk. Nod."

She nodded.

"And is the job done?"

She shook her head. Good thing she wasn’t meeting his eyes, or he might see the truth there.

Not only was the job not done, but she’d royally fucked it up by turning her mark into a werewolf.

Good going, Liv. Could you have possibly made it any harder?

"I—"

Fingers tightened further around her throat, and he slammed her head against the wall again. Hard enough that she couldn’t hide another wince as she shot a quick glance at him. His face darkened. "I. Said. Don’t. Talk." He scowled. "Fucking-A. I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes."

Because he had serious inadequacies that he covered by demonstrating his power.

Because he was a psychopath who liked to hurt people.

Because throwing his weight around made him feel like a man.

Take your pick. How he’d managed to remain as pack leader for as long as he had was beyond her. Those who didn’t outright hate or fear him seemed to be merely biding their time until they could do something about him.

When that would happen was anyone’s guess. Certainly as the Omega of the pack Olivia would be the last to know. For now, Eddy was the leader, and that was what mattered. It was the hand she’d been dealt and had to play as best she could.

So she stood still and waited.

Like a good little wolf.

Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Spots started to dance behind her eyelids. If he didn’t let up soon, she’d pass out.

She knew that from experience, because it had happened before. It was another way he had of exerting his control over her. Choke her into unconsciousness and, many times, she’d come to while he raped her—one of the many ways he had of showing her just how little she really meant to him and how easily he could do anything he wanted to her with impunity. How completely he held her life in his hands.

Literally.

"Look at me."

She raised heavy lids and stared into dark eyes glinting with the knowledge that she’d gotten the message. He dropped his hand and strutted away from her, confident that she’d stay put.

She watched him, loathing him with each shaky breath she drew. When the bastard had moved in next door, fate had dealt her a dead man’s hand. He’d seen her, had wanted her, so he’d taken her, turning her into a monster. Six weeks ago he’d told her he had a special job for her, a job that could elevate her from Omega to something . . . well, something more than the bottom of the pack.

She’d perked up, as he’d known she would. But when he’d told her the job was to murder someone, she’d refused. She was a middle school phys ed teacher, for crying out loud. Not an assassin.

But then he’d taken Zoe, threatened to kill her if Olivia didn’t do as she was told. She’d seen him act with swift ruthlessness where disobedience and defiance were concerned. Just a few months ago he’d broken the neck of another pack member’s son as casually as if he were flicking lint off his sleeve. So she had no doubt that, even though he might love Zoe in his own twisted way, he would carry through on the threat. So this time when he’d told her to go, she’d gone. Thankfully she had enough tenure and foresight to ask for a leave of absence from work.

Eddy turned to face her. "Go kill Sullivan. You have one week."

She opened her mouth, then closed it. He’d not given her permission to speak yet.

A slight smile tilted one edge of his mouth. "Very good, pet." He gave an approving nod. "You may respond."

"A week?"

He lifted his brows. "I’ve given you six weeks already, two of which you squandered by being stubborn. I hardly think you need more than another week."

She clamped her lips together and gave an abrupt nod. Arguing with him would accomplish nothing except to have him shorten the deadline even further.

He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I’m not such a bad guy, Livvie." He shrugged. "I just know what I want, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it—and that includes killing everyone who gets in my way. Some women find that kind of confidence appealing. Attractive, even."

What kind of women? The ones with a death wish?

She licked her lips. "May I ask what it is you want? Why is it so important that Rory Sullivan be killed? What did he do to you?"

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