(Silver Tip Pack #2)
by Megan Erickson
Release Date: July 21, 2017
About Chasing Destiny
Some live on memories…
Almost dying during a pack uprising has a way of shaking things up. I’m no longer Mr. Laid Back now that there’s an itch under my skin I can’t scratch.
On a volunteer mission that goes beyond the walls of our compound, we enter the territory of a pack long thought dead, and find ourselves on the business end of their spears.
What I’m not prepared for is what I find within their walls—The one shifter I never thought I’d see alive, the one I’d mourned twice, the one I’d always loved. He is alive, and if I have anything to do with it, he’ll stay that way. But he’s got secrets, and exposing them could lead us to an enemy worse than the bloodthirsty undead shifters wanting to kill us all…
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An Excerpt from Chasing Destiny
With a heaving breath, he slowly made his way toward me, and then I advanced on him, forcing him to step back until he hit the stone wall. His eyes were huge and round in his thin face, and his breath was coming fast now.
I wanted him. More than I’d wanted anyone. I needed to breath him in, scent him, mark him. He’d always driven me out of my mind when I was a novus, and it wasn’t until much later, after he’d left, that I fully understood what he’d meant to me and the connection we’d had. “Do you remember,” I asked, “when we were like thirteen and we snuck down to steal candy from the cellar?”
He was trembling against me, and he gripped my hip like he needed something to ground himself.
“And we got into that stuff that tasted nasty but made our heads spin?”
He licked his lips and his eyes squeezed shut for a brief moment. “What happened next, Bay?”
“You kissed me,” I said, recalling the press of his full lips on mine, the way he held my head, controlling the kiss, then slipped his hands down my back to pull me against him. We’d kissed and fumbled, humping against each other in an altered state, the room spinning, until we’d come all over each other. I could still smell the scent of our releases mingling with our breaths.
I pressed closer to him now, feeling his hardness against me. “Do you remember?”
He blew out a harsh breath. “You think I’d forget any time we were together? Especially that time? I lived on those memories, particularly that time, over and over again. It was what kept me alive, Bay. The memory of you.”
“Where did you go?” I whispered. “What happened to you?”
Instead of answering, he leaned down until his lips barely grazed mine. I didn’t move, didn’t even flinch, letting him decide how this next thirty seconds was going to go. But fuck I wanted to lift up on my toes and connect our lips, to taste him, to wrap my arms around him, to lap at his skin, to sink down to my knees and take that hardness into my mouth. To listen to him come, because I’d only gotten one chance when I was thirteen. One chance to listen to the man I’d always wanted moan out his pleasure.
His hands slipped from my hips down to my ass, where he cupped me and pulled me tight against him with a strength I hadn’t known he had. Our lips were still a whisper away, and I wanted him to say the word that closed the distance.
Instead, he shoved his face in my neck, hiding from me again, as he inhaled and sucked on my skin. “It’s too much,” he confessed on a broken moan.
“What is?” I tried to pull his head back to look at him but he wouldn’t let me.
“You. This. All of it.” His tongue swirled along my vein. “It’s been too long since I had to care, since I could care. I don’t know how to handle this.”
“How can I help you?” I asked.
He was quiet for a long moment, his grip on me iron-clad, his face pressed into my skin like he wanted to imprint on me. “This,” he said softly. “Just…let me hold you like this.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain in his voice seeping into my skin and digging into my very marrow. “Anytime,” I whispered into his shoulder. “Anytime.”
Megan Erickson is a USA Today bestselling author of romance that sizzles. Her books have a touch of nerd, a dash of humor, and always have a happily ever after. A former journalist, she switched to fiction when she decided she likes writing her own endings better.
She lives in Pennsylvania with her very own nerdy husband and two kids. Although rather fun-sized, she’s been told she has a full-sized personality. When Megan isn’t writing, she’s either lounging with her two cats named after John Hughes characters or… thinking about writing.
She is represented by Marisa Corvisiero of Corvisiero Literary Agency.
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