Read Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] for Free Online Page A

creature she’d watched the other night came to mind. She’d watched him change, seen the transformation with her own eyes.
    Marc McAllister was a monster, a werewolf, or he had that in him. The sexy man seducing her right now was only part of who he was. She had to remind herself of that.
    The reason she was here was to get his insight on her work. If she could publish her article and say it had werewolf approval, the attention she’d get would be threefold. It would boost her career to an extent she was sure she couldn’t imagine. That had to be the focus of her thoughts, not this sexy werewolf-man who was way too smooth of a talker.
    “That is the impression humans have of werewolves.” She turned quickly to make her point.
    When had he moved right behind her? She almost lost herself in those deep blue eyes. The silver streaks had left, and an intense blue, bluer than a rich summer sky, captivated her. She blinked to clear her thoughts.
    “And an impression you might be able to help me with.” She tried to move around him, to point at her article on his coffee table.
    Marc ran his fingers up her arm, sending chills rushing through her. Her nipples hardened again. He was too much man, too big, too powerful, too aggressive.
    “So you’re here to discover what my true nature is, to find out if I am a monster or not?” He moved quickly, wrapping his fingers through her hair, pulling her head back so that he had her pinned. “And what actions will convince you, my little bitch?”
    “Don’t call me that,” she whispered, her breath coming so hard that she suddenly was dizzy.
    His other hand snaked around her neck, capturing her face, her head, pinning her so that she was forced to stare up at him.
    “Our women are bitches, mated or unclaimed. Would you have me pretend I’m not a werewolf when I’m around you?” His mouth barely moved, the words whispered, caressing her senses with their meaning.
    “For us, it’s a derogatory word.” She knew her heartbeat pounded against his thumb, which pressed gently into her jugular vein. “But I don’t want you to pretend you’re something you’re not.”
    “Good.” He raised her head slightly, stretching her neck, and kissed her again.
    This time the kiss was deeper, his tongue parting her lips and entering her. Heather let out a small cry, more like a gasp as she allowed the kiss, her insides filling with a sense of need she usually kept well-suppressed.
    He held her head tightly in place, making love to her mouth. There was little else to do with her hands other than to spread her fingers over his massive chest. Warm muscles quivered against her touch. His tongue impaled her, blinding her with a greedy lust, while she ran her hands over his rock-hard body.
    There was so much of him. And even though she knew in her mind that he could be even more than what appeared before her, he was more man than most she had ever met.
    He bent over her. Even though he’d stretched her upwards toward him, he was still so much taller than she that he had to meet her halfway. Her entire world had suddenly become Marc McAllister. Powerful, dominating, aggressive, and so incredibly dangerous. She’d be in way over her head in seconds if she didn’t slow this down drastically.
    When she tried to turn her head to end the kiss, his fingers tightened for a second, as if unwilling to let her go. But then he relaxed his hands, allowing her to break off the kiss.
    Heather stumbled backwards, gasping for breath, her lips tingling and wet from his mouth.
    “All I want is your help on the article.” It was a desperate cry, her feeble attempt to regain control of her senses.
    Her pussy throbbed, her breasts were swollen and aching for attention. Like hell it was all that she wanted.
    “Don’t lie to me, sweet bitch.” His voice was thick, deeper, almost a growl.
    She stared up at him. His blond hair stood slightly on end, and the silver streaks raced through his blue eyes again. God.