Saturday, March 24, 2018

S.E.X. Spotlight~ Brody's Scarred Mate by Mackenzie Williams


Brody Ward is running out of time to find his marked mate, London, but he's not overly worried. He's had several visions of her and is convinced she's living in a nearby city. After searching for a while, he starts to realize that he's being too cavalier about the whole thing. His marked slave is out there and could be with anyone. The mark she wears on her skin, which shows his claim, will be fading soon. He can't afford to waste anymore time.
When London is finally found and he's working on claiming her, the Dark clan again interferes. She is taken but not to keep. The other shifter simply wants to scar her mark, the highest form of disrespect for a wolf shifter. She feels tainted afterward.
Will Brody still want a damaged slave? Will the Ward brothers be able to heal her? 




Excerpt:
He exhaled. “Drop the towel.”
London’s arms tensed, and she anxiously repeated the motion of moving her dark hair off her shoulder. Her blue eyes were mesmerizing as they blinked rapidly. Brody tensed his own arms, dying to touch her.
“Pet, our game isn’t going to get any easier for you. Drop…the…towel.” His tone was commanding but not harsh.
Brody didn’t want any hints of anger in his commands. He wanted her anxious, though, certainly. He wanted her on tilt, not surefooted. He lowered his head, keeping constant eye contact with his mate.
London reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. Brody was aware that she could feel him more when there was sexual tension, especially if he was asserting his dominance over her. A crooked grin lifted his lips as she lowered her arm and simultaneously let go of the towel.
It fell to her feet, showing him her naked body. A low growl vibrated his chest as he let his stare move over her creamy skin. London shivered and lowered her gaze to the floor.
Good girl.
London shivered a second time when Brody lifted his hand and ran his fingers down her arm. She inhaled a quick, short breath, and he felt their connection deep inside. He ran his hand back up her arm, over her shoulder, and grabbed a handful of her damp hair.
Brody slowly pulled on it, tilting her head up. A sweet moan came off her lips as she stared into his eyes.
“Are you cold, little one?”
She simply stared at him for a moment. Was she worried her answer wouldn’t be correct?
“Umm, no?”
Brody tugged on her hair a bit more, tilting her head farther. She again moaned softly.
“You don’t know, or are you asking me what you should say?” Again, there was no anger in his tone because there was no anger in him.
Her striking blue eyes darted back and forth, searching his face. She was getting worried about his reaction.
“Neither. Well—”
Brody cut her off by slowly pulling her hair again. London whimpered, and he had to take it off her lips. He swiftly bent down and kissed her. It was harsh, and she moaned against his lips as he worked his over hers. At last Brody pulled back, still holding her hair.
“Pet, I don’t need you to appease me.”
“Sorry.” She watched him intently.
“And I don’t need you to be sorry.”
He leaned down and took her lips again, but this time the kiss was softer and more emotional. He slowly released her hair, then took hold of her face. London reached up and placed her hands on his shoulders, but it was just for a split second.
Brody quickly pulled away from the kiss, grabbing her wrists. London gasped at his sudden movements, but that didn’t stop him. He pulled her arms behind her and pinned them to her back.
“I don’t believe you had permission to do that yet.”
Her eyes were wide as she lifted her chin. Her mouth fell open as she watched his face, her breathing heavy.ss
“On your knees, little one.”



~~~~~
2018 ©Evelise Archer All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

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