Written exclusively for members of the Patreon platform, Damon is now available for all readers, but only in the boxed set listed below…limited time only!
Special Anniversary Edition
Includes the short story DAMON and never-before-released deleted scenes and more.
Kit Colbana—half breed, assassin, thief, jack of all trades—has a new job: track down the missing ward of one of the local alpha shapeshifters. It should be a piece of cake.
So why is she so nervous? It probably has something to do with the insanity that happens when you deal with shifters—especially sexy ones who come bearing promises of easy jobs and easier money.
Or maybe it’s all the other missing kids that Kit discovers while working the case, or the way her gut keeps screaming she’s gotten in over her head. Or maybe it’s because if she fails—she’s dead.
If she can stay just one step ahead, she should be okay. Maybe she’ll even live long to collect her fee…
A Stroke of Dumb Luck
Proceed with Caution – A Collection of Deleted Shorts & Scenes
“Oh, Damon. Your face…your poor face.” The breathy, little girl voice, sweeter than sugar, really didn’t fit the insane woman who’d just spoken to me.
I’ve have long since grown used to that voice—and her violent tendencies—and didn’t bat an eyelash as she bent over me and stroked a hand down my cheek. Annette, local ruler of the cat clan, ruler of all she surveyed — except me — and batshit crazy psychopath, caught my chin and lifted my face upright.
For a moment, her face faded in and out of focus. The touch of her hand under my chin had bones grinding together. I didn’t make a sound.
Blinking my one good eye, I focused on her face until it stopped swimming in and out. The other eye was still swollen shut, although it was healing bit by bit.
I was the perfect punching bag for a lunatic.
I was big and strong and I healed fast.
In another few minutes, the bruises and bloody wounds would be gone and once I showered, nobody would be the wiser.
Save for me.
Even Annette would forget.
“Does it hurt?” She stared at me solemnly, her lips puckered, touched with a soft, pale pink that matched the negligee she’d pulled on earlier. Even the splattering of blood on her lower lip was echoed in the blood spray on the pink silk.
“Damon, does it hurt?” She stroked a hand down my cheek.
Yes, bitch. It hurts. Mentally, I told her exactly what she wanted to hear—the truth. Out loud, I said, “I’m fine, Lady.”
After all, she’d done the beating, but she hadn’t been trying to punish me.
I had just been handy.
If she’d wanted to hurt me, either I’d be unconscious—or she’d be dead. Because one of these days, I would get fed up and just kill her.
So I just went with the neutral response.
I was fine.
She hadn’t done any lasting damage and I could already feel a dozen, stinging aches where the bones were knitting together, that odd itch was skin was closing itself up.
An odd, avid light gleamed in her eyes as she stroked a hand back across my scalp. “Are you sure?”
It was almost like she wanted me to say something—wanted me to tell her yeah, I was hurting. Or yeah, I was pissed.
But that would defeat the purpose.
I have taken this beating for a reason and that reason was currently standing on the far side of the room, his head hanging low.
The kid’s luck was running out and I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to delay things.
But I’d managed to do it one more time.
Of course, I’d done it at the expense of somebody else’s neck.