Chapter One

“Are you Tore Mann?” The male approaching stood well over six feet with dark brown hair and equally brown eyes.

Tore straightened in his booth and nodded to the waitress who’d been leaning against his table, giving him a hell of a view. One glance at who approached and she willingly retreated behind the counter.

“What can I do for you?” Tore didn’t stand, but he did straighten in the tall-back wooden booth he sat in.

The werewolf nodded to the empty booth opposite of Tore. “Mind if I join you?”

Tore nodded. He wouldn’t let the male know that this was the first time he’d spoken to a werewolf. His species and theirs didn’t often mingle. But the male wouldn’t seek him out if it weren’t important. That much Tore could sniff off the male.

When the male sat, Tore crooked his finger at the waitress behind the counter. She scowled and watched the werewolf cautiously as she walked over to the booth. Her fear made the sex appeal he’d seen in her minutes before drop in score from a ten to a zero. No leopard should ever fear a werewolf.

“Throw another steak on the grill,” he told her, watching while she stared at the werewolf.

“No thanks. A beer is fine. Whatever’s on tap.” He nodded at the female, appearing not to notice the smell of her fear and anger.

The Running Mate was predominantly a leopard establishment. Although they tolerated humans who strayed in from time to time, other species made them nervous. This male appeared not to notice, or didn’t care. He leaned back in the booth, his expression relaxing while he focused on Tore. “If I show up at my den and I’m not hungry, my mate will have my hide,” he offered conversationally.

The waitress walked off and he leaned forward, his expression darkening. “I have a problem concerning your species,” he began seriously. “My name is Rick Bolton and my pack is north of here, not too far.”

Tore knew about werewolves north of here. He nodded. “What’s your problem?”

“One of your females.” Rick paused when the waitress returned.

She placed a large draw in front of him and then offered Tore’s plate, brimming with a mound of French fries and a large steak, rare. She left without making eye contact with either of them.

“I mean your species no dishonor,” he continued then took a slow, long drink of his beer. Placing the mug down half full, he focused on Tore. “But you need to do something about her.”

Tore slid his knife through the thick meat and then stabbed a section with the prongs of his fork. “Who is the female and what has she done?”

“They say her den,” he paused, growled, “I mean her litter is Rose.”

“Rose? Jin Rose?” Tore hissed. Fucking little female spewed trouble with the flick of her tail. Although he’d howl in her favor for being able to track and capture or kill anyone bringing trouble to leopards, which is what made her a good hunter.

“Hair dyed black, tattoos…”

“Sounds like her. What’s the howling all about?”

Rick took another swallow of his beer and put the mug on the table in front of him. The werewolf didn’t smell angry, but his expression hardened as he met Tore’s gaze.

“Gossiping isn’t something I care to partake in. The words smell worse than crap if you ask me. But when I’m approached by a den that I happen to know has maintained honor over the years and told that one of their bitches has been wronged, I take that very seriously.”

Tore brought a piece of meat to his mouth but then paused, holding his fork in midair. “Jin dishonored a female?” He would have laughed out loud if the werewolf didn’t look so damn serious. “No offense. But that isn’t exactly the way she runs.”

“The charge is against her, nonetheless,” Bolton said, his voice a harsh growl. “Several witnesses identified her by smell and appearance with the female’s mate.”

“Oh.” If Jin dishonored the title of hunter by taking a mated male to bed, he would personally have her neck for his next meal. Stuffing the meat in his mouth, he stabbed the next piece with his prongs and watched the red juices ooze from the puncture marks and on to the plate. It was a damn good piece of meat, but his appetite faded with the nauseating smell from the conversation. He swallowed the meat half chewed and felt it all the way down his esophagus. “What do you want me to do?”

“A few coyotes claim they know her whereabouts and I’m told she’s not far from here.” Bolton downed the rest of his beer and slammed the mug on the table. “You would honor my pack if you brought her forward. The female is howling, as is her right, for a challenge to restore her honor.”

Leopards didn’t fall under the laws of werewolves. And one look at Bolton proved he knew this. Bolton slid to the edge of the booth and then stood slowly. “I won’t challenge whatever decision you make regarding this,” he told Tore. “If you do sniff her out, I’d appreciate you letting me know.”

Tore nodded, again not getting up but returning to his meal. The werewolf dropped a couple bills next to his empty beer mug and left as silently as he entered.

A hunter’s duties were to protect the leopard species, even if it meant from themselves. There were five hunters, an odd amount intentionally decided upon well over a century ago when leopards decided they needed some form of law among themselves. If a decision needed made, there would never be a stalemate. He was the oldest hunter among them, having turned thirty-five this past fall. But he was new as far as hunters went. His sire passed the title on to him five years ago when he finally retired, which being the stubborn pain in the ass he was, wasn’t until he died.

Riley Mann, Tore’s sire, told him too many times that Tore wasn’t ready for the title since it would force his roguish lifestyle out of his blood. There wasn’t a worse smell in the world than admitting his sire was right. Leopards, and apparently other species too, turned to him now to make honorable decisions, and in this case, to return honor to a female.

Damn Jin Rose anyway. Why the hell couldn’t the little female stay out of trouble? And they called him a rogue.

After paying for his meal and getting a hug from the waitress, who rubbed up against him with a silent invitation, Tore headed out into the blowing snow. There were quite a few humans in Kenora, Ontario. But with the relocation of many leopards who fled from the persecution of Leo Pard down in the States, the leopard population was growing. Tore smelled a melting pot over the months he’d been running this territory. Coyotes, werewolves and owls were also descending in these parts. At the moment, with the harsh wind and large snowflakes falling quickly, there wasn’t much to smell but his own scent.

There was a coyote den north of town. Tore knew Pierre to be a good male and if he knew anything, he’d tell Tore. But right now, there were other items on his agenda. If Jin Rose were smart, she’d head south into the States for a while and get lost until the heat cooled down. Although he’d heard there was a mark on her head for murdering Leo Pard, an insane leopard who came up with the ridiculous idea of breeding leopards with visions and strengthening their species, Tore smelled the lies this far north. In the end though, Jin wasn’t his problem.

Stomping through the already accumulating snow, Tore headed across the street to his Jeep. Over a week ago, he helped set another hunter, Race Ogden, up in makeshift housing. Not that he worried for the male too much. Race was stuck not far south of here with a litter of three hot females. As he rubbed the fading scar on his face and remembered the welcome slash from the oldest female in that litter, he figured her hot temper would not only keep her litter warm but melt any snow that dared tried landing anywhere near her.

His tires slid a few times over the packed snow, but he made it to the lumber yard in time to pick up the order for Race and then headed out of town. Tore’s sire sniffed him out more accurately than Tore would ever admit to a soul. But Tore wouldn’t allow him to be right about one thing. No way would he give up his rogue lifestyle because he was a hunter. Single male leopards ran with freedom and honor. They weren’t collared or whipped by anyone. His status made being a hunter so much easier. The other three male hunters were now all tied down to a mate. None of them held the power he possessed to enter any circumstance, handle any matter, and sniff out the accuracy of any problem, be it coming from a male or a female.

The snow blew around him with an attitude. “Fucking roads,” he growled, gripping the steering wheel to keep his Jeep from skidding off the road.

If there were a way to haul the lumber to Race and do it in his fur, he’d jump on the opportunity in a second. But leopards took care of their own. Tore wouldn’t let down another when they needed supplies to get through the winter. Even if that meant driving in this storm instead of running in his fur, which would make travel a hell of a lot easier.

“Son of a bitch.” He snarled loudly as aggravation made him grip the wheel almost hard enough to yank it out of the steering column. Shifting down, the motor grumbled while the tires fought to keep traction.

By the time he reached where he would have to travel off-road, every muscle in his body strained from concentrating on not flipping his fucking Jeep. Even with it in four-wheel drive and chains crunching over hard-packed snow, it would be a pain in the ass traveling over the terrain to reach Race and the females.

And what thanks would he get? More than likely bared teeth and long claws eager to dig deep into his flesh. The oldest female in that litter was one sexy little bitch. He wouldn’t tolerate her ruthless attacks otherwise.

If Race were a smart leopard, he’d chain that oldest to a tree and leave her there. Race was beyond gone though for the middle female in the litter. He’d just announced his mating and given up his single male status. Tore knew one thing—he’d never sacrifice his freedom, no matter how sweet the sex smelled, or how tight a hot little pussy could wrap around his cock. No female was worth living in conditions like this, and Tore knew Race could have it better down in the States.

White-knuckling the steering wheel, beads of sweat formed on his brow and down his spine when he cut off the highway. There was a rough road that led to Race and the females, but it was impossible to see it from the snow falling. The Jeep bounced over the uneven terrain and Tore’s massive body slammed against the seat and door.

Glancing at the stack of wood that stretched out the open back window, Tore then focused ahead of him. The burnt ruins of the old home came into view with a bellow of smoke circling out the chimney and then hanging stationary above the home. It was as if even the smoke froze as it tried climbing toward the sky.

He pulled to a stop, pushing in the clutch and then securing the break. Once a beautiful home had been buried back among these trees. Now a shell, the remains from a fire, endured the winter blast that came at them full force. Fortunately, before the snow hit, he and Race got walls and a roof up for several rooms. At least while in their human form they wouldn’t freeze.

Stepping out of the Jeep, Tore headed to the back and released the door. They would start on the next room once the weather let up, but for now, at least the supplies were ready.

Even as snowflakes clung to his flesh and did their best to blind him, Tore picked up on a scent that tried blowing right past him. He looked over the roof of his vehicle at the female standing in the doorway. In spite of the fact she looked as if she wanted to kill him, the way her thick long blonde hair blew around her slender frame turned him on in a way it shouldn’t.

She was mean to the core and proved as much the first time he met her. Although the laceration on his face and his arm were practically gone, her temper wasn’t. Tore grunted and pulled free some of the stacked wood, backing up from his Jeep until he could balance them on his shoulder. Watching her stand in the doorway, glaring at him while her green eyes sparked with energy that made him think of a geyser about to blow, he carried the wood over toward the house and turned to drop it.

“Don’t put those there,” she growled.

Tore slowed but only long enough to stare deep into those pools of fire before dropping the wood. It made a large bang while snow puffed up around him.

“What did I just say?” she hissed.

Tore ignored her and headed for the next load. The door slammed behind him. It sounded solid, which meant they’d done a good job in ensuring that it would hold against the elements and intruders to some extent. Not that he worried for a moment that he couldn’t yank it off its hinges if he wished.

He grabbed the next load and stomped through the drifting snow, which seemed deeper than when he hauled the first load. The snow was coming down fast and hard.

The door opened quickly and this time the female stomped outside, wearing boots that hugged her shins and ended before her knees. Her blue jeans hugged her thighs and hips just as nicely. She didn’t bother with a coat though, and even though she wore a baggy sweatshirt, her large breasts were full enough that nipples puckered in the cold and pressed against the thick material.

If he hauled the wood a bit slower, it wasn’t because he worried about getting too close to her. The little female marched through the snow and he noticed her breasts bounce. He was intrigued and, yes, aroused. She might have a vicious bite, one meant to do damage, but knowing that just made him plot to keep the upper hand.

Tore moved to where he’d put the first stack, but she made it there first. Standing and facing him, she put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

“Put the wood over on the side.” She pointed with her finger.

If he put it over where she instructed, they would simply have to move it back here to start work on the next room.

Again Tore ignored her and, no longer moving slowly, turned the wood, forcing her to dive out of the way or get smacked in the head with the planks. Again they made a large booming sound when he dropped them on top of the first pile.

“Are you really an idiot?” she snarled. “Or are you just pretending to be?”

“If you want the wood over there, move it there yourself.” He turned and headed for the last load.

The snow blew around him, creating miniature tornadoes of sparkling white flecks. Tore still smelled the female when she followed him, her spicy anger mixed with something a bit more pungent, almost appealing as he breathed it deep into his lungs. It was defiance, determination. Whatever motivated her, he was sure he’d never know. But she wasn’t going to stop harassing him until he did as she instructed. Tore dragged the last of the wood out of the back of his Jeep, deciding the last thing he would do is follow her bidding.

“Race wouldn’t want the wood there,” she said, tilting her head so that he noticed how her long, narrow nose accented her slender face and high cheekbones. Her cheeks were rosy red and her thick blonde hair blew around her face, although she was too busy fisting her hands into her waistline to move the strands out of the way.

“Race would want the wood where we’ll need it when we start building your next room.” Obviously Race wasn’t here or the male would probably attempt to get the fiery female out of his way. Tore wondered if she was here alone. He didn’t smell any leopards but the two of them. He had half a mind to ask her just to push her further into the defensive.

For some reason, getting her good and riled was damn entertaining. “But he would snarl at me, thinking I forced a female to do grunt work if I put the wood in a spot that was out of the way and would require moving it unnecessarily before we started working.”

“He would have to move it if you left it here,” she challenged.

“He would know if I left it here that I was in a hurry and not being an idiot by putting it somewhere that was intentionally out of the way.”

“With it out of the way, none of us will trip over it when we come and go.”

“No one will trip over it, little cat, because you are going to let your litter know, when they return that it is there.” He watched her green eyes flare when he acknowledged knowing they were alone out here. “You can help me if you want.”

He tugged again on the wood, making a show of pulling it out of the Jeep. He could easily lift and remove it quickly, adjust it on his shoulder and put it where it needed to go then be out of here. Bantering with the little cat was more fun than flirting with the big-boobed waitress at The Running Mate.

“The only thing I’d help you do is leave,” she growled, and finally moved her hand to slap hair out of her face. “Since I doubt you have enough intelligence to smell your way out of a whore house.”

Tore dropped the wood and turned on her. He knew her words bit as hard as her teeth. But the smell of her confidence, of her willful nature and sensing she got off insulting others to make herself feel more important, should be traits about her that would make him walk away. He wasn’t even positive the smoldering gaze she pinned him with was in fact insecurity, fear, intense apprehension that every leopard around her was out to get her.

“My sweet little cat,” he purred, releasing his grip on the wood and rubbing his hands together as he turned on her. “I’m sure you’ve got enough wits about you to smell intelligence. You’re attacking simply to spend time with me.”

“Why you pompous, arrogant ass,” she howled, raising her hands with claws extended while her green eyes flashed brighter than he’d notice them being before. “First of all, I am not your ‘sweet little cat’!”

He was ready when she attacked. When she would have pounced, Tore leapt before she could, grabbing her and lifting her in the air then pinned her against the side of his Jeep. “Keep pointing out what you’re not, little cat, and I might start smelling your longing for something you want.”

“I don’t smell a damn thing that I want.” She twisted furiously, causing all of her hair to fall over her face while kicking and thrashing with her arms.

He could endure her bruises, hold her until she quit moving, which might be a while, or he could give her what she wanted. Tore grabbed her waist and picked her up quickly. He would do his best to remember the expression on her face when her scent suddenly changed drastically. It was as though when he pulled her from his Jeep and lifted her into the air that all anger swooped right out of her while the most incredibly sweet aroma he’d ever breathed in his life washed over her.

Tore tossed her into the air, turning in time to see her long blonde hair float around her face while all hard angles in her expression vanished.

VISION LUST releases January 30th.

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