Title:Worth the Fight
Genre:NA Paranormal Romance
Cover Designer:Covers by Christian
Editor:Tia Silverthorne Bach
Some things are worth fighting for.
How do you break a vampire?
Shun her because of her sex. Cast her aside because of her powers. Toss her to the gutter because of her color. Or simply withhold love. Edwina Devereaux has experienced it all including a broken heart thanks to an incubus. She’s wallowing in despair and doesn’t care about anything. Or anyone.
Hank Richards, the were-panther police detective, doesn’t do weakness. Even when his wife ran off with his brother, Hank stood strong. But he finds peace in the arms of a certain vampire.
When Hank’s brother gets involved in a supernatural fight club in New Orleans, he reaches out to Hank for help. But going to Crescent City uncovers truths neither Hank nor Edwina care to face.
Will the past threaten and destroy or will love endure?
A lot is on my mind when I step outside. Edwina’s confession is at the top of the list. It hurts a little that she didn’t trust me enough to tell me about Luc sooner. After all, the whole damned town knows what happened with Sheila. In all honesty, I have no right, no claim to Edwina, but still… We have always maintained an honest relationship.
I’ll get over it. Eventually. Edwina said it was decades ago. Ain’t like I thought she was a virgin. Besides, Luc seems happy with Inés. He poses no threat.
Tyson also occupies space in my thoughts. What the hell is going on with my baby brother? After he left Falls Creek with Sheila, I wrote him off. Figured I’d never see his ass again. I know it makes me a shitty sibling. Our father made me swear on his deathbed that I’d make amends with Tyson. Now it looks like I have to live up to the vow.
Can’t forget Captain’s demeanor this morning either. The Falls Creek PD isn’t the FBI. I have no business poking my nose into NOLA PD shit even if it involves my brother. I smell a rat, and it doesn’t have four legs and a tail.
Months ago, when that situation went down with Cash and his mate, the human leaders and Council met. The verdict? Humans want supernaturals out of town. It goes against the founders’s wishes and the accord. But the current town’s leaders want us out of their businesses. They want us out of their government and law enforcement too. If Captain Miller is setting me up for a fall, he’s messing with the wrong being. I ain’t going out like that.
My beast rumbles beneath my skin, jumping at the chance to be freed. Unfortunately, changing too near Edwina’s watchful eye isn’t a good idea. Shame has nothing to do with it, and it’s not about protecting her. She’s not that fragile.
Transformation is a painful but necessary process. It’s even worse to watch. But my unwillingness to reveal my beast in front of Edwina is about privacy. I’ve never changed in front of anyone other than Sheila. My beast likes the shadows. Appreciates his secrecy. What can I say? It’s what I am.
I step into the abandoned house on the property. A small cat stops in its tracks, takes one look at me, and hisses before running off. I chuckle as I tug my sweater over my head, and place it on the crumbling counter along with the rest of my clothes.
The first wave hits me like a fucking seizure. Intense rippling contorts my hands making me gasp. Groaning, I reach for the counter. Miss and hit the floor with a loud thud. Breathing hurts like a mother fucker. While I struggle for air, shrill snapping permeates the space around me. My beast continues to claw forward, lengthening and flexing my spine. Sharp pangs twist my gut while sweat pours down my temples. Slowly, my thoughts unravel. My head drops, and with a roar, my humanity slides away.
An ocean of blackness swallows the lingering shadows by the time I return to Edwina’s place. I’m still naked, too spent to bother dressing. Slipping inside, I notice her sitting at the kitchen island with a glass in hand. Her head turns, and she’s focused on me. I’m overly aware of my sweat-glistened, funky body.
“Angel, give me a moment to shower,” I say and head toward the bathroom tucked in the rear of the first floor.
I push the door shut behind me and lean against it. Edwina put a lot of effort into creating the perfect spa environment, something any human would envy. The clean, white surfaces—marble, glass, and chrome—are sullied by my muddy feet. I’ll take care of it as soon as I’m done.
I twist the square nozzle, and hot water cascades over me like rain falling. A separate massaging water head caresses my aching muscles. I’m lost in my thoughts when I hear the faint sound of the door clicking closed. Glimpsing Edwina’s luxurious body through the steam makes my dick twitch.
A cool breeze hits me as the glass door opens. My gaze creeps up over her dainty ankles, toned legs, perfect breasts—Edwina has the type of body to drive any male wild with desire. My dick gets harder.
“Hey, handsome,” she drawls as the door snaps shut.
“Couldn’t wait?” I lick my lips, anxious to taste her.
“No, I couldn’t.”
Edwina steps beneath the water. Beads of moisture trickle over her breasts. My beast urges forward, wanting to lap up every drop.
Down boy. She’s mine.
I try not to watch the water traveling over her warm brown skin straight to her pussy. It’s a sight too heavenly not to behold.
Her voice grabs my attention, and I look up. She’s holding up a shower sponge and a bottle of soap.
“Wash my back.”
The scent of black orchid, her scent, tickles my senses. “Turn around.”
Edwina, bending over the bench attached to one wall, exposes her backside, and I nearly lose it. Growling, I drag the sponge across her beautiful skin. She has me mesmerized.
“Rinse me, Hank.”
Lifting the handheld nozzle, I spray water over her. She sighs. The sound goes straight to my crotch. When Edwina places her hands against the wall and kneels on the bench, my beast pounces and approaches her from behind. Rubbing my dick across her tight ass, I tell her, “I want you. Now.”
About the Author
A native of Detroit, Michigan and a graduate of Western Michigan University, SF has fed her creative brain through a variety of jobs from customer service to working with animals. Although the work title has changed, one thing remained true—her desire to be a writer. As a kid she could often be found writing stories or with a book in her hand. It didn’t matter where the location, SF could be found reading (even at the beach).
Her debut novel, Regress—a dystopian set in her home state—developed from a dream. When she’s not concocting tales in her sleep, SF has been known to come up with entire dialogues in the shower.
SF prefers writing stories which answer the “what if” question in life. Her protagonists are strong and diverse set in post-apocalyptic or paranormal worlds.
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Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/SFBenson/e/B01DI9Z58Q/ref=dp_byline_cont_book_1