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I’m Kay Dee Royal, today’s host and I’ll be talking about what makes a great paranormal hero (IMO). *smile* First let’s talk giveaways…
Today’s Giveaway ~ a PDF copy of Staring Into the Eyes of Chance to one lucky commenter who answers ~ What kind of paranormal male makes your favorite hero? (Older, younger, strong, broken, driven, fearless, alpha, tortured, loyal, driven, etc.)
Drawing will be tomorrow after noon EST (3-26) and posted in the comments.
Another chance to win ~ all names (with email addresses included) will be collected for grand prize drawing on Monday (3-26) at noon EST. US only - box of gently used romance books to one lucky winner, and also, international/US - 3 erotica e-books to one lucky winner. GOOD LUCK!!!
So…what paranormal makes a great hero?
For me, it doesn’t matter what paranormal being the hero is (were, vampire, ghost, demon, merman, fey, dragon, etc.) he has to have motivation, drive, a mission greater than himself, be loyal to something or someone, confidence to the level of maybe a bit of ego, but not arrogance, also the ability to reveal humbleness at some level, be so in tuned to his heroine that she can bring him to his knees in a matter of a heart beat (I love this about alphas). He’s about protecting his heroine at all costs.
Well, it’s my fantasy…LOL. So, what’s your hero look/act like?
I’d like to share my hero, Chance Grayton, story-star of Staring Into the Eyes of Chance ~
Chance leaned against a tree, brushing a twig from his chest hair, uncaring of his nakedness. His fingertips touched broken skin and followed a deep scratch from mid-sternum to the inside of his hip. It must have happened when he jumped the eight-foot fence. The wound would heal before morning.
More important, he’d lost the rogue alpha, again. Just like before. The Lycan International Investigation Agency (LIIA) identified this alpha as Smoke. He completely vanished, leaving no scent trail, not even a blood spill. Chance never got close enough to clamp his jaws around any part of the elusive wolf.
But more perplexing was that woman. How her scent drew him away from the rogue he’d tracked for months. He first saw her in the window, looking at him. In that moment, an undeniable connection occurred, a deep admiration, respect…or something deeper, unexplainable. She totally obliterated his focus. He couldn’t decipher it, but she captivated him, drew him in as if some kind of spell bound them.
Then, she was crouching outside, emanating fear on the light breeze. His wolf instinct answered her call for protection with a force as powerful as firemen pulling victims from a blazing inferno. Such a fragile human body, he was afraid he’d killed her when her head hit the ground. His only thought was getting between her and Smoke. He didn’t want her wandering around the yard with Smoke and his pack so close.
Her scent pervaded his consciousness, like the taste of her skin. Both lodged comfortably inside his brain, a cherished memory. She sat there, afraid, yet strong, fighting down panic. He enjoyed her trembling body, and her confidence.
What in the hell happened back there?
It made no sense, the trail of Smoke’s pack ended on that woman’s property. His team had followed the rogue pack across France and into the states. Smoke only concentrated on areas free of fences and people. Chance couldn’t rule out how close her property was to the LIIA Ops facility, only a few miles away. Plus it wasn’t far from the village limits, and Chance knew what Smoke was capable of doing to the locals.
She didn’t carry the mark of a male mate. He understood from a fellow forester there was a wildlife preserve taking up over two thousand acres of wooded land in the area. He must have stumbled onto it when he leaped over the fence.
His forester guise would last a while longer. He needed access onto her property in daylight hours. For some reason the rogue pack ran mostly nocturnal. Daylight hours left them vulnerable in their sleep and allowed Chance’s team an opportunity at finding Smoke’s lair.
“Trevor.” Chance put out a telepathic pack call, as only pack members could for each other. Trevor was the best agent Chance ever trained, besides being his closest friend and his right hand man at LIIA.
“Hey, boss man,” Trevor answered.
“I found something. I’ll want you and a few others with me tomorrow morning. We’ll need an up-close and personal scan of this area. The rogues are here.”
“You need me there now?”
One thing about Trevor Drakeland, he never hesitated jumping into the action, the more dangerous, the more he wanted in.
“No, I’m good. See you in the morning.”
“Got it. I’ll have Jase and Dir with me. Meet you at the club-house.”
A howl in the distance threw Chance into alert mode. He’d tracked this pack himself, not only because they went against Lycan laws by killing innocents, but they did it in a most elusive way. They vanished many times without leaving any scent trails.
Tonight Chance came close to capturing Smoke. But, for that woman, the one he couldn’t banish from his memory any more than he could have stopped her from distracting him as he closed in on the rogue leader. Just the thought of her fired his cock into attention. Chance never experienced anything like her in his past; no woman claimed so much power over him. His right hand fisted around his heavy shaft.
He had turned away from Smoke for one moment and in the next moment he was gone without a trace. Then again, after Chance’s interaction with the female, he confronted the rogue alpha, and then lost Smoke a second time. Arousal fled and frustration settled in.
Chance howled in human-form and within seconds, in a flurry of bones cracking, muscles stretching, claws and fangs extending, he transformed into his furry self.
He ran back to Blue, his midnight blue Dodge truck, parked along a two-track on the public land. Chance shifted into his human form, gathered his clothes from the truck seat, and dressed quickly. He climbed in, started his truck, and then maneuvered onto the main road, turning toward the lone woman’s home.
An eight-foot fence ran along the roadside, enclosing a huge wooded area. With his window down, he scented for her, but instead picked up Smoke. The same scent had eluded him only a short time ago. He stopped the truck, pulled a tranquilizer hand gun from his glove box, and got out.
“I know you’re close, you son-of-a… Show yourself.”
Smoke’s scent grew stronger, like a rabid killer, so familiar and yet different. Chance set himself into a battle stance, prepared for attack, tranquilizer gun in hand.
“Come out, coward,” Chance yelled. The rogue’s scent came at Chance from all directions, so close, and suddenly it drifted away until Chance couldn’t scent the rogue alpha at all.
What is this guy’s game?
An eerie prickle combed over his scalp, shooting a deep worry for the woman he’d seen earlier. He assumed she lived alone. He jumped back into the truck and drove down the road until he came upon a two-track drive. His truck lights flashed across a large mailbox listed as Bentley, 120 Wayward Road, beneath hung a wooden sign, Nature’s Friends In Need Wildlife Refuge and Preserve.
Chance cut off his truck lights and swerved into the drive.
Ms. Bentley, here I come.
He drove about half a mile along the winding wooded drive before he saw her house. He backed up, losing sight of it and parked off the edge. At eleven o’clock, she should be inside for the night. Chance figured she’d have another motion detecting light in her front yard, like in her back. He picked up a dog scent, maybe a week old, nothing fresh.
His night vision cued in on the motion sensors near the light fixtures. He found a black-out spot, stooped low and crept closer to the house. If he stuck near the siding he would go undetected. There were no active laser beam set-ups or cameras.
Spindly residual threads of Smoke’s scent hung in the air, not fresh, but Chance kept running into it. So the rogue must have paid a visit.
Chance moved, his body sleek and stealth, toward the only window interrupting the darkness with a soft glowing light. He leaned against the siding and angled his head, peering inside.
His breath caught as she stepped out of a sunken bathtub. Her backside, slender and shapely, showed a dark ridge of bruising along her spine. She turned, dipping slowly, as if in pain, and retrieved a towel lying on the floor. When she rose, he saw her breasts, smallish, the size of ripe apples with his paw prints stamped above her taut rosebud nipples. A rush of blood went south and pooled into hard-lust-want.
Again, something about her beckoned him with a magnetic pull. As if she sensed his presence, she glanced toward the window. His head automatically snapped back, but not before he saw her lovely violet eyes. He closed his and her image clung, imbedded, every inch of her streamlined body and beautiful lavender eyes. His keen hearing honed in on her rushed steps, stopping at the window. He moved sideways and melted his backside against the house.
“Hey, where are you?” Trevor slammed into his head.
“Kind of busy at the moment.”
“Well, I know it’s not with a woman, God forbid. So, you need some help. I can’t sleep and wanted a companion for a midnight run.”
“I need to sort a few things out, but wait for me. I’ll need a midnight run the way it’s going.”
After seeing Ms. Bentley, all of Ms. Bentley, Chance might even take matters into his own hands. Running would definitely help wear him out, but not the curious building urge for this woman. He heard her rustle the curtains and walk away. Chance took another peek. She’d drawn the curtains completely, blocking any view.
Damn! What the hell am I thinking, spying on a nude woman from outside her window?
His jeans remained an uncomfortable barrier against the blazing heated rod beneath. Ms. Bentley’s bare-skinned pelt embraced his brain, only making matters worse. He scanned her yard and ambled slowly around the house, sticking near the walls. By now it was midnight and definitely time for a run with Trevor.
Staring Into the Eyes of Chance
Olivia endures a thirty-four year passionless marriage, discovering her dead husband’s philandering history at his funeral. She devotes her energy and life-long sensitivity with animals to her wildlife refuge and preserve.
Chance, a Lycan alpha and leader of the Lycan International Investigation Agency (LIIA) throws himself into his investigations. He chooses to neglect his duty of finding a primal-mate after watching his father become an empty shell over the loss of his.
A murderous rogue pack draws Chance onto Olivia’s wildlife preserve, sending Olivia’s animal sensitivities into overdrive. Chance and Olivia discover a sizzling force driving them together.
Will they succumb to its enticing tether, or fight to resume their loveless lives apart?
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