Free Darkness Bound by J. T. Geissinger

made a serial killer quake, but she simply amended it politely, without an ounce of fear, “With your permission, My Lord, of course.”
    Alejandro might have missed the faint laughter in her voice, but Hawk didn’t.
    What’s she up to?
    “May I speak, Sire?”
    She rose, leaning forward so a profusion of ample, creamy cleavage pressed in open invitation against the low neckline of her blouse. Most members of the colony wore as little as possible when in human form to circumvent the clinging jungle heat, but Morgan had a clothes fetish. Her wardrobe choices were made independent of the weather. When she’d first come to live in the jungle with Xander, she’d mourned the shoe collection she’d left behind in her far more sophisticated colony in England like a child mourns a pet run over by the neighbor’s car.
    Foolish fetishes aside, the woman had a body made to be showcased in designer clothes.
    Alejandro’s gaze flickered to the irresistible siren’s call of the top swell of Morgan’s breasts. Beside her, Xander stiffened in anger.
    Women had to use every weapon available to them, and Morgan was a veritable arsenal of sex appeal. “Sire” this and “My Lord” that and a cruise missile of va-va-voom aimed straight in Alejandro’s direction—whatever she had in mind, the Alpha didn’t stand a chance.
    Hawk felt no pity for Xander, sitting red-faced and livid beside her. Allow yourself to fall for a bombshell like her, make her your wife, what did you expect? Your life would get easier?
    Still staring at her breasts, Alejandro gave Morgan permission to speak with an imperious wave of his hand.
    “Thank you, My Lord.” She inclined her head and dipped an elegant curtsy in a show of deference that visibly mollified the flustered Alpha. He sat back into his overstuffed chair with a sniff, snapping his fingers for more wine. A young attendant leapt to his side, removed the broken glass from between his stiff fingers, and replaced it with another, already full.
    “As we all know, this reporter has caused us irreparable damage. Things were bad before, with the murders of the twenty-six politicians and religious leaders on Easter that Caesar coordinated, but they got even worse after she wrote that article and rallied humans behind her agenda of hate.”
    Murmurs of assent swirled around the room. Looking at Alejandro, but including the entire Assembly, Morgan continued.
    “It occurred to me that, although your plan for revenge was excellent—as always, Sire—perhaps we might take it one step further. Perhaps we might look at it in a larger context, one that would benefit us beyond just ruining her career and reputation.”
    She paused, and the room held a collective breath.
    This was a dangerous thing she attempted. The line she walked was paper thin. If the Alpha decided her tone or expression or even her posture weren’t to his liking, if he detected even a hint of disrespect, it would be within his rights to punish her in any way he saw fit.
    Including stringing her up to a tree and leaving her there until her corpse was picked clean by the birds.
    It had been dangerous for him, too, but he honestly didn’t care. Irritating Alejandro was the closest thing to fun Hawk ever had. He suffered canings on nearly a weekly basis, but he was a quick healer, and thought it a small price to pay for what little amusement he had available.
    But for a female to challenge the Alpha, it was more than dangerous. It was downright crazy.
    It was suicide.
    Jesus. The balls on this broad. He glanced at Xander, wondering how on Earth he handled a firecracker like that. Xander looked as if he were wondering the exact same thing.
    Slowly, Alejandro’s brows lifted. Clearly relishing his power to hold them in thrall, he let them all stew in uncertainty for a moment until giving her permission to continue with the barest grudging nod.
    Morgan said simply, “Blackmail.”
    “She has nothing we want,” the Alpha