Excerpt from Tall, Dark & Furious

The Pyte readers have requested an excerpt from the next book for this week’s excerpt. I’m sorry it’s late, but here it is, Trace and Samantha’s book. 

I hope you enjoy it 🙂 

An

Excerpt from

Tall, Dark & Furious

“The call, wife?” Trace said, watching as his wife stared down at the piece of parchment that his father had left him and read the line of numbers that he hadn’t been able to make sense of to herself while he stood there taking in every devastating curve of her body before he forced himself to look away.

He didn’t want to notice how good his wife smelled or how soft her skin looked, because the last thing that he needed right now was a distraction. For the last three hundred and fifty-three years he’d thought of only one thing.

Revenge.

He wanted revenge on the Pack that had targeted him, on the shifters that had taken turns breaking his bones with mallets, but most of all, he wanted revenge on the girl that made him believe that he could have something more only to smile down at him as they’d swung a mallet between his legs. The only thing that he needed right now was his wife to do as he told her so that he could-

“So, this is what’s going to happen,” his wife said, drawing his attention back to find her-

“No!” he roared as she set his only means of finding his father on fire with a small red cylinder and before he could tear it away from her, it was nothing more than a pile of simmering black ash on the dull wood bedchamber floor.

“I’m going to call your father and after I do, you’re going to leave and never come back,” his wife said hoarsely, drawing his attention back to find her holding onto the bureau as she struggled not to faint.

As his vision turned red, he took a step towards her and then another, and another until he had her backed up against the wall. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he ignored her startled gasp and leaned in, placing his hands against the wall on either side of her head, caging her in as he bit out, “Give me a call now, wife.”

“No,” she said weakly as she shook her head, swallowing hard as her breaths became shallow and her body began to tremble and although he was pleased to discover that his wife had a backbone, he was furious that she was disobeying him in this.

Wrapping one hand around the back of her neck while he used his other hand to cup the generous curve of her hip, he pulled her closer so that he could make things abundantly clear to her. When her large breasts pressed against his stomach he closed his eyes and fought for control. It had been so long since he’d touched someone that he’d forgotten just how good it felt.

“P-please,” she mumbled as he forced himself to focus on the only thing that mattered.

His revenge.

“Call,” he bit out as he moved to push her away only to tighten his hold on her as he held her closer, unable to let her go, because this…

This is what he’d dreamed of all those years that he’d spent in that hole with his knees forced to the hard ground with the hard stones that trapped him biting into his knees and back, slowly tearing away his dry skin any time he moved. She was so soft, he thought, unable to help himself as he pulled her closer. For years, he’d fantasized about having something soft touching his skin, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined anything as soft as the woman in his arms. She felt so good, he thought with a groan as he moved his hands over her back, hating the thin shirt that separated them even as he realized that this was the closest that he’d ever been to a woman.

His father had been strict, making sure that none of the whores that he’d used to cover their scents had touched him. They’d been allowed to watch him as a child and make sure that he stayed out of trouble when his father was hunting, but once he’d been able to run around the taverns, terrorizing everyone that came through the doors, they’d never been allowed to touch him again. They’d never been allowed to hug him or hold him, or even comfort him when he’d skinned his knee out of fear that his father would rip their throats out.

The filth and disease that his father had used to cover their scents had been the same reason why his father had forced him to live a life of solitude where he’d spent most of his childhood staring out windows, watching as the world went on around him, resigned to putting his life on hold until he made it to his immortality. It had been an incredibly lonely existence and one he’d hated until he’d met Mary. She’d smiled every time she saw him, hugged him, and had made a fool out of him, something that he would never allow to happen again.

“Please, just let me go,” the woman in his arms whispered as he closed his eyes and savored her scent with a groan.

Sweet like apples and strawberries drizzled in honey.

She was so damn sweet, he thought as he turned his head so that he could take her scent deeply into his lungs as his hand found its way beneath her shirt. When his hand glided across the smooth skin, his cock finally came to life, twitching with interest, and making him sigh with relief, because he-

Dropped to his knees, gasping for air as excruciating pain tore through his balls while he stared up at his wife in shock as he cupped his battered cock.

“Sorry,” his wife mumbled with a sympathetic wince even as she shoved him out of the way, knocking him on his ass in the process.

With another mumbled, “Sorry!” she raced to the closed bedchamber door, threw it open and turned right back around, grabbed the small smooth, black rectangle object that he hadn’t been able to figure out, ran towards the door only to once again turn around and-

“Sorry!” she mumbled even as she drew her foot back and-

“Christ!” he choked out as she landed a solid kick to his stomach before she turned around, mumbled, “Sorry,” over her shoulder and threw the bedchamber door open, stumbled over the dog that should be stopping her, and stumbled her way to the stairs as she threw one last, “Sorry!” over her shoulder before leaving him lying there, realizing that he’d seriously underestimated his wife.

Something that he didn’t plan on doing again.

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