Wolves of Paris (Spell of the Shifters, Book 1)
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Journalist Ethan has just landed his dream job on a Paris listings magazine. But when he meets his new boss, the dark and mysterious Guillaume, sparks fly between them and threaten to derail his new life.
Warning: This short but highly charged erotic romance (8500 words) contains one cute but naive LA music correspondent, a heartstoppingly perfect Parisian wolf shifter and graphic sex scenes More
Journalist Ethan has just landed his dream job on a Paris listings magazine. But when he meets his new boss, the dark and mysterious Guillaume, the sparks that fly between them set off a series of events that could threaten the new life he has made for himself. And it is not until he can accept Guillaume's secret that he can finally allow himself to start falling for this complicated and beautiful man.
Warning: This short but highly charged erotic romance (8500 words) contains one cute but naive LA music correspondent, a heartstoppingly perfect Parisian wolf shifter and some very graphic sex scenes. Not suitable for under-18s.
He pushed me away roughly, almost throwing me across the bed, and sat up, his head in his hands.
I was furious. This was the second time it had happened in twenty-four hours. What the hell was going on?
The guy might have been my boss, but if he was playing games with me or perhaps even had some kind of issue with his sexuality, I didn't see why I should be the victim.
"What do you think you're playing at, Guillaume?" I spat angrily at him.
He didn't answer, but sat with his shoulders hunched, facing away from me. The sight of his muscular back with his dark hair falling over his shoulders was sweet torment, reminding me of what I was missing.
I waited for him to come up with some smart-arse answer, or to throw me out of his apartment, but the brooding silence was somehow worse.
"Fine." I wasn't going to sit around and be treated like this. My balls might have been turning blue with frustration but I knew what my tolerance levels were. If Guillaume got off on messing with my head, that was his problem. But I sure as hell didn't have to put up with this.
Guillaume mumbled something in French which I didn't understand.
"What's the big deal?" I asked. "I mean, you have done this before, right? With a guy?"
The second the words were out of my mouth, I realized how ridiculous it sounded. Of course he'd had guys before. You don't get technique like that without a lot of practice.
Other possibilities, ones I did not want to admit, flickered through my mind. He still refused to meet my eyes.
He laughed a little, and it broke the tension.
"Ethan, of course I have. Many guys. But you are different. And there is something you need to know before this goes any further."
I sat back down on the edge of the bed. He wasn't exactly winning me over, but I felt he was starting to open up. And besides, I was curious. And still very horny.
"It may be better if I show you instead of telling you," he continued. "If I try and explain in words, you will most likely not believe me, or not understand the true implications."
His tone was so grave that I almost laughed. But I didn't want to hurt him. Whatever truth he was about to impart to me was obviously hugely important to him, so I reached out and stroked him on his arm.
"It's OK. Whatever it is, just tell me. Or show me."
Then, right in front of my eyes, he changed. I mean, he actually changed. If someone had asked me afterwards to describe in detail what had happened, I'd have been hard-pressed to elaborate. I was light-headed from the wine, but not to the point of hallucination, yet this was the only explanation I could muster.
There was a kind of whirling and a whoosh of fur and a snapping of teeth and a flashing of eyes, and suddenly Guillaume wasn't in the room any more.
Standing by the bed was a huge black wolf with strangely intense dark eyes, staring at me.
I heard the sound of screaming before I realized it was coming out of my own mouth, and everything went dark.
I don't know how long I blacked out for. When I came around, I was lying on my back on the bed, and Guillaume was cradling me in his arms, holding a glass of water to my lips.
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