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Being human isn't easy, but being a wolf is even worse.
For Alyssa, life as a stray has never been easy. And finding a shifter-friendly Dom is close to impossible, especially after the hell she went through with the last one. Beaten and scarred, she's determined to take her life back, one skin at a time. Even if it means falling for Dylan—one of the best alphas in the region—who'd much rather prepare her for another Dom than keep her for himself.
The last time Dylan gave his heart to another, the bitch promptly threw it on the ground and stomped on it. Subs be damned if he's going to let it happen again. But when Alyssa—a redhead who's just as fiery in person as she is in bed—steps into his life, he'll do whatever he can to keep her safe. Even if that means falling in love with her.
Can Alyssa learn to trust another Dom and accept her skin as a wolf? Or will Dylan lose her to the scars from her past?
Reader Advisory: This book contains two ménage scenes—one MFM and one FFM—and plenty of voyeurism. There are also scenes of shifted werewolf blood sport and the non-consensual torture of submissive werewolves in wolf form. There are also references to sexual abuse in the heroine's previous D/s relationship.
General Release Date: 22nd April 2013
Stray
I traced the rim of my glass with a finger as condensation leaked down its sides. He’s late. He wasn’t coming—I was sure of it. He’d probably realised how incapable I was at being a sub. At being his sub. Inexperienced. Fake.
I drew in a deep breath. Held it. Released it.
Inhale.
I filled my lungs with air.
Exhale.
My muscles tensed. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My heart skipped a few beats, restarting a moment later when the electronic music picked up again. I reached down to my right hip. Fuck. I’d left my phone in one of the lockers, along with my purse. Not that I could’ve stashed it in my ankle-length skirt, anyway. But it would’ve been nice to check my phone, to see if there was a reason for him being so late.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting there waiting for Dylan. We’d agreed to meet in one of Boston’s newer clubs, and against his insistence, I’d driven here on my own. I’d arrived half an hour early, and he was at least half an hour late. I stared at my drink, at the now absent ice cubes and the liquid I had yet to taste.
Not that I’d planned on drinking, anyway. Any sub knows not to drink when she plans to play, especially when she’s meeting a new Dom—or in my case, accepting a new one. But it was a strong enough excuse to remain at the bar, away from the main floor, the playrooms and the other Doms without subs or slaves of their own.
The dress code for this particular club was fairly casual, and after going through the few outfits I had, I’d settled on a red corset and black skirt that almost kissed the floor. The corset itself caused my thirty-four inch waist to shrink to a thirty-two, but it probably would’ve worked even better if I’d bothered to train with it first. Doms don’t like subs with thirty-something-inch waists. I growled under my breath. I figured no one else would notice.
I sighed, not entirely surprised when the breath caught in the back of my throat. I could’ve just as easily wussed out and gone home, but I’d been away from the scene for long enough. Too long. Gathering the little courage I had, I swept my vision across the room, averting my eyes whenever I made eye contact with someone else.
The only person I was interested in meeting tonight was Mr Roik. If he ever shows up. We’d known one another for years. I’d even been a sub to him a few times in the past, but play had always been supervised by my last Dom—a sorry excuse for a Master if there ever was one. So of course, when I’d moved back to the area, Dylan was at the top of my list.
Finally, I spotted him just entering the room, his squared shoulders accenting a six-foot frame. Surprisingly enough, he was decked out in a suit, black blazer and all. The keys hanging on his left hip told me he was purely dominant, especially within a scene such as this. Heat brushed my cheeks, and I instinctively stared down at the wooden floor. I glanced down towards the padlock attached to my collar, and I played around with the idea of locking it or taking the damned thing off altogether.
Jesus, Alyssa, get a grip. But it was too late.
A shadow fell over me and I looked up, right into Dylan’s amber eyes.
“Interesting choice of jewellery you’ve got there,” he said, casually gliding over to me. He placed one finger under the band of leather, and I dropped my gaze.
I didn’t care if he wasn’t my Master yet or not. He was a Dom, and he’d earned my respect.
Dylan lifted my chin with a hand. He leaned in to kiss me on my forehead, his short stubble scratching my skin. Remember to breathe.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Dylan began, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “Marnie required a little more care this afternoon than her usual. I tried calling you but figured you didn’t have your cell on you.”
I nodded. “It’s in one of the lockers. I didn’t want to go and get it in case I missed you.” I furrowed my brow. “Is everything okay?” Marnie was one of his long-time slaves, and one whom I’d met on more than one occasion.
“Sexual frustration.” Dylan smiled.
“But I thought you two weren’t...?” I paused, figuring it wasn’t my place to ask.
“Not normally, no. But I sometimes give her what she needs. It would seem I gave her too much, too soon.”
“Sensation overload?”
He shrugged. “Pretty much. It took some time to bring her back out of subspace.”
I nodded again. “Will she be okay?” I asked, having experienced subspace and the drop afterwards a few times myself.
“Yes. I had her drink some water and have her wrapped under a bunch of blankets. But if my phone goes off, I’m afraid we’ll have to cut things short.”
I took a breath. At least he takes care of his subs. It was something Dylan had proven to me time and time again, not just from his affection towards Marnie, but also his reputation among the other subs within the community. Myself included.
Erin loves writing out her deepest fantasies, from sexy wereshifters, to strong characters and all things BDSM. But she wasn't always this way. In fact, up until a few months ago, writing erotica was the furthest thing from her mind. Happily living in a world of fantasy and science fiction, the dirtiest scenes she ever wrote were a kiss between a druid and a dryad along with a skydance between two gryphons.
As uncomfortable as it was, Erin accepted a challenge from her husband back in December to write something new. It started with one word. Two words. Three thousand words later and she was hooked.
She currently lives in Pennsylvania with her husband and their small collection of pets.
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