Just One Bite Volume 2 by Brenda Williamson Rosalie Stanton Dahlia Rose Linda Palmer Virginia Nelson Bethany Michaels Amanda McIntyre Karalynn Lee Tracey H. Kitts Jambrea Jo Jones Yvette Hines Marie Harte Kathleen Dienne Victoria Blisse Page A

main street—a five and dime, a drugstore and a second hand store with a flashing orange pumpkin beaming bright in its window. The wind carried the high-pitched scratchy cry of a cat in a back alley trashcan, probably fell in and deservedly so—he hated cats, they were such sneaky creatures. A dog’s wild barking made him smile, but jumbled his radar for a moment and he lost track of her. Gunner waited, focused on retrieving her scent in the heavily misted midnight breeze. He waited another breath and then stepped from his hiding place. An elbow met his face and before he could react, there was a painful blow to his shin and a quick, decisive jab to his gut, causing him to double over and gasp for air.
    “You think I didn’t know you were here? I sensed you the minute I stepped from the pub. Where’d you go, Gunner? You forgot to say goodbye.”
    He wiped the blood trickling from his nose as he smiled at his assailant. “Good to see you, too. I see you haven’t changed, Tory. What’s up?” Damn the woman still could whip his ass, though he had to figure in that she had the advantage of his jumbled thoughts. He looked her over from head to toe and through an eye he knew would be swollen soon, she still looked good enough to eat—figuratively speaking. She was a bad boy’s dream in her form-fitting jeans and thin white T-shirt topped with a worn leather biker’s jacket. A fuchsia colored scarf was looped fashionably twice around that beautiful neck. Gunner felt a twinge stirring below his belt.
    Tory shifted her oversized black bag on her shoulder and eyed him warily. “I suppose you want me to take care of that,” she nodded, referring to his eye.
    “I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” Gunner remarked, rubbing his hand over his gut.
    “Like hell, you wouldn’t, Gunner. Come on then. I’m just up the block. Don’t try anything though, I’m warning you.”
    He grinned, raising his hands in defense. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. Only he had and every night for a year after he’d left her at the seedy motel where they’d gone to have some privacy. They’d met at a bistro in Tuscany and spent the next week touring the sights, sampling the wine and food, learning about each other-eventually revealing who he was, what he was and offering her the same. She declined and their last night together, he mustered every ounce of strength, making passionate love with her, but not taking her for his eternal mate.
    Gunner followed her up the three flights of stairs sporting a hard-on and a displaced sense of nobility trying to keep from staring at her sweet ass in front of him. He remembered even now, the satin smooth texture of her skin, those hips cradled in his hands, holding her to him, driving into her sweet warmth…
    “Here I am.” She looked over her shoulder and her eyes grew wide.
    Gunner ran his tongue over his incisors, their points becoming razor sharp when aroused.
    “Maybe this isn’t a good idea, Gunner.” She chewed on her plump lower lip, urging the blood—her blood—pulsating to the surface.
    Shit.
    This was going to be a monumental exercise in self-control. That night he’d sworn to uphold her wishes not to turn her—it wasn’t what she wanted. But when they mated, she’d branded him for anyone else. “I promise to be a good boy.” He winked, following with a wince to the stab of pain in his eye.
    “Come on in. You haven’t changed much,” she commented as she hung her purse and coat on the single hook inside the door. Gunner followed her into the apartment, checking once over his shoulder to make sure no one else had seen them. He closed the door, chuckling at her joke. It was a joke, wasn’t it? Surely she remembered the reason that he’d left her. Her scent wrapped around him, causing his mouth to water.  Easy Gunner, ol’ boy.  He stepped from the miniscule hall into the living room to wait. The furnishings were sparse, a couch, coffee table, a comfy reading