Read Her Lycan Lover for Free Online

rather just fuck your brains out. If you’ve no objections?”
    For a second she stared back at him, speechless. “I see there’s no need for games with you. How refreshing. Yes. But I would rather it be me that fucks you. If at all possible.”
    “I’m not a sub. Never have been.”
    “Lucky night, Mr. Rothschild. I’m a switch, so I can take it any way you please. Do you have any objections?” She blew a ring of smoke above his head.
    “None that come to mind.” This brazen woman had what he needed. She might be capable of keeping him occupied for hours and that’s all he sought. A way to forestall the world of sleep. “Perhaps this is your lucky night . I might consider something new. How does flying by the seat of your pants sound?” Suddenly, his stomach clenched. A nauseating repugnance swam in his gut. He broke out in a cold sweat. The woman’s miles of curves probably had most guys hot on the hunt. Yet there was something irksome about her. What it was, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint.
    She allowed her gaze to travel down the front of his body, stopping at his crotch. “Impressive. I’ve got all night.” She laughed, picking up her martini glass. “Cheers.”
    “Bottoms up, Ms. Miles.”

     
    Quinn awoke, his heart thudding beneath his ribcage. The bizarre images faded, but not quick enough to convince him he’d been asleep. Razor-edged and cutting him deep. He scrubbed his hand down his face, wiping away a sheen of sweat. He must have dozed off. Cold droplets smeared across the skin of his cheeks, sandpaper scruff under his fingers.
    He paced himself in transitioning between waking and dreaming. A shrink would check off night terrors and meds. Had he gone that route he would have been addicted to sleeping pills for a lack of sleep. Self-imposed insomnia to avoid his nighttime travels. Dreams or not, he journeyed into other worlds while he slept. Regardless of where he’d visited at night, in the daylight, his memory of the dream dissolved after waking. Right now, he fully recalled the dream and his past dreams with equal clarity. Night after night. For an eternity. As a Lycan protector he was relegated to immortality until he found his mate and kept her from harm. In his dream, he searched for his elusive mate. It was a search that kept him in a constant vigil should he actually meet her one day.
    The dream, or whatever it was, usually receded from his consciousness, leaving a black void with shreds to his memory. Fleeting images. So the same bittersweet dream came to him every night, pulling him back as the moon made its way across the sky, and then during the day, it faded into the farthest reach of his memory. Yet this morning, the dream was vividly entrenched in his consciousness.
    He glanced down at his hands. No blood stained his skin. Again, he’d lost her. For seconds, he fought to let go the memory of silky strands of hair. So dark they appeared blue black against his lover’s porcelain skin. Lips that chided him, sucking his tongue, stealing his breath under a blood red moon.
    The breeze sliced through the forest, wafting her scent of amber and patchouli.
    “Quinnlan,” she’d called out to him. His nighttime fantasy. She wasn’t a succubus as he had once believed. In his dream as he thrust into her, she wrapped him in her warm, inviting arms. He dove into her lush body each night. How could that be part of a nightmare where she ended up calling to him to save her? Then he recalled the scent that changed from heavenly to that of iron. Cloying. Blood.
    Her fragrance had wafted in and around the mountainside he’d covered half-crazed in search of her. Quinn inhaled as though he might absorb it one last time. Last night there had been baying wolves, shifters from other clans, and he’d stopped dead in his tracks. A bone chilling jolt had shot through his body. That had been new. He sat up in bed.
    “Shit,” he said sharply. Novelty in his dreams was not common. It was a sign of