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      Grayson Adler—lone werewolf, powerful Ancient and empath Healer—has never lusted after prey before. As a paranormal bounty hunter, he’s duty bound to capture Samantha Fuller. She’s half demon and half angel, with deadly powers emerging and a vendetta against the hunter who killed her parents. Yet Grayson aches to touch her and let her angelic half soothe his hurts, his longing for a connection as powerful as his sexual need. Then he gets a new assignment: to absorb her evil powers and tame her by becoming her mate before she turns demon….

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter One

      The scent of his prey swirled in his nostrils, tempting, sweet as honeysuckle.

      Grayson Adler had never lusted after prey before. Duty came first. But the rich fragrance made him hard with need. It evoked an image of her naked on all fours, a sultry look in her eyes as he gripped her hips and sank deep inside her.

      Paws off, he warned himself humorlessly. She’s demon deadly.

      Beneath the grainy bar lights, liquor in his glass glowed amber as he swallowed it neat. Grayson welcomed the warm burn of the whiskey. He tipped his battered white Stetson low on his brow and looked around the seedy Colorado bar, empty but for a drunk cowboy listening to the singer on stage, a pack of six rowdy werewolves and the prey.

      Samantha Fuller, he amended. With white-blond hair cascading past her slender shoulders, she had the heart-shaped face of an angel with a mouth made for pure sin.

      Face of an angel, soul of a demon. Samantha was a rare Darklighter. Half demon, half angel, she was one of the triplet sisters who’d celebrated a twenty-first birthday by gaining power. He’d tracked her from her home in Kansas to this bar. The Society for the Elimination of Malevolent Magick had posted a bounty after she’d sawed off a Fae’s wings six weeks ago.

      A few seats away, she sipped her beer. Her mouth cupped the rim, making his wicked imagination envision her sliding those wet red lips over his cock as those big baby blues looked up at him. He drank in her scent of wild violets and fresh raindrops. Prey never aroused him. But he wanted her naked beneath him, her softness pliant and willing, those firm thighs spread wide.

      Dust motes swirled in the smoky air as the country singer finished warbling a love song and exited into a back room, the bartender following her. The battered cowboy, gut spilling over his belt, stumbled up from his seat at one of the tables and headed over to Samantha. Shaking her head at his offer of a dance, she hunched over the bar as if trying to become invisible. Grayson felt a pang of unwanted sympathy. He knew what it felt like to hide from the world.

      “I can be a lot of fun. Let’s go to my place, sugah. You’re hot and if you flash those pretty titties at me, I’ll make it worth your while.” The drunk slid an arm around her waist.

      Grayson stiffened. Don’t do it, you stupid ass.

      A bite of sulfur and hot venom nudged aside the scent of wild violets and raindrops. Samantha lifted her head, her eyes gleaming. “You think I’m hot? You’re hot, too.”

      A low howl of pain followed as the man suddenly cupped himself. “I’m on fire!”

      Runes of scarlet ignited the man’s crotch. Demon fire. Grayson cursed, ready to intervene when the flames died. The man’s howl faded to a whimper. Samantha’s nasty grin faded. She looked horrified.

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

      White light spilled from her fingers as she touched the cowboy’s scorched jeans. His relief turned into confusion as she withdrew her hand.

      “What the hell are you?”

      “Please go away,” she told him.

      Not needing an engraved invitation, the cowboy fled. A golden nimbus of light wreathed Samantha, accenting her prettiness and tinting her skin a healthy glow. Damn if she wasn’t even prettier, and sexier. Her innocent, angelic half had pushed out the raging demon. Grayson ached to touch her, absorb her white light, let it soothe all his hurt. Sexual need twinned with a deep longing for connection.

      But he wasn’t the only one watching her. Eyes narrowed, the werewolves noticed her, too. Grayson smelled the hot sting of their lust, the hard male aggression. One started to slide off his stool. He read the male’s thoughts. Six against one, we’ll take her in the back and no one will hear her screams.

      His protective instincts stirred, Grayson shot a hard thought at the pack. Back off. Leave her alone or I’ll set your balls on fire.

      Wincing at the telepathic spike, the werewolves returned to their beer. Grayson shouldered aside emotion. The job came first. And for all her purity and goodness, Samantha could still rip out a careless Hunter’s throat in seconds.

      Grayson tensed to make his move when the shifters called out.

      “Hey, lone wolf!”

      Sweat beaded his temples. Shit, not now, don’t draw attention to me.

      “A lone wolf’s a wolf who can’t be trusted.”

      “I bet his pack abandoned him because he’s so damn ugly.”

      The scar on his face ached. Grayson tried to summon his powers, but the insults flew like bullets. His thoughts paralyzed, he glanced at Samantha. Her wide blue gaze met his and it kicked his guts hard. He knew that look. Had seen it enough in the mirror.

      Cursing under his breath, he hunched over his whiskey. His boot heels hooked around the bar stool. He was a powerful Ancient who could snap a neck with a single thought.

      He was scum. Outcast.

      Once he’d run with his people, protected the pack, stood obedient and loyal to their leader. A hollow ache settled in his chest. Screw it. Nothing mattered but the prey and duty.

      The door banged open, blowing in a bitter wind and familiar scent. His blood pressure sank. Hellfire. He’d forgotten how close this town was to his pack territory.

      Slight correction. Former pack.

      “Grayson.” Satisfaction tinged the deep voice. “Your hide is mine, bastard. Mine and the pack’s.”

      “My hide’s my own and I belong to no pack.” He rubbed his chest, trying to ease the ache those words caused.

      “You owe us, you bastard. I’ve come to collect.” Russell, the enforcer in his former pack, nudged closer to the bar. He nodded to the shifters, who watched the scene like wolves sensing an injured deer. “Thanks boys, for letting me know this scum’s here. How does it feel, Grayson? Bounty hunter, hunted by one of his own.”

      Stiffening, Grayson searched out the prey’s response. Smelled fear, intrigue and adrenaline coursing through delicate blue veins. Samantha was ready to bolt.

      He kept his senses trained on the girl, while swallowing his whiskey in pretend indifference. “You’re mistaken, mister. Go hound dog someone else.”

      She slid off the bar stool and headed