Free Her Lycan Lover by Susan Arden Page A

her tight erect nipples. Strumming her fingers over the tips, she caught her delicate silver chain and the pentagram medallion stabbed her breast. She had to get a hold of herself and stop these ramblings.
    Drawing her brows together, she walked over to the table in front of the window to pick up her tablet. Yet the bubble of doubt grew within her throat, hovering and refused to burst. Or shrink.
    As spellcaster she’d taken the oath of a third level conjurer. She was empowered to lock her dark nature away. It had always been an easy choice and without turmoil, making her existence a relatively simple decision to live beyond the sexual cravings that brought men and women to their knees. For lust and love, her mother had used her spellcaster talents to do the bidding of her lover. It’s what had taken her mother’s life. But it wouldn’t take hers.
    And Quinnlan Rothschild, IV for all his suave, debonair outer trappings was still a wolf. And his nature knew only one law: track, hunt, and devour. One couldn’t dislike a creature because of his nature. Only a dumbbell would ignore a wolf’s natural predatory instincts.
    To pretend Quinn was a lamb was the epitome of ignorance. As a conjurer, she’d learned early on about facets of creatures, infinitesimal details, studying and memorizing the essence of life in order to transmute physical properties. To put aside the primal nature of a being, deadly mistakes were made. And not all mistakes could be repaired. The death of her mother reminded her of that each and every day she lived. Resolutely, she moved away from the window from which she’d been staring.
    “Coffee. Strong,” she said, with a blast of steady conviction. Perfect. That’s all she required to resume her steadfast demeanor. Unshakeable where sexy wolf shifters were concerned.
    Sherry walked, repeating a credo to remain unwavering with each footstep taken. A type of incantation to the wet bar forged during the fifteen steps, and there she stood, filling the coffee pot with water.
    It was early but the deliveries would begin soon, followed by her generating expense reports for Shawn. In no time she’d be up to her ears in work and able to put aside this nonsensical detour into craziness. The head chef was on a rampage this morning and would be here ready to discuss menu changes. On and on and on the day would blaze. She could arrive at dawn and by midnight, she’d find herself with a whole new to-do list of projects awaiting her attention.
    Just look at my desk. Overrun with files, requisition forms, staff meetings bulletins, new hire resumes. Without question, there was a mile high pile of work there. It wasn’t just the Den, either. Since Shawn’s marriage he’d given her a promotion which meant additional responsibilities in his other restaurants along with the increase in pay. Tomorrow she’d be at Shay’s, a Sushi bar further uptown and Nero’s Pub, a sports bar and grill a few blocks over.
    Opening the bag of ground organic coffee, she inhaled the pungent aroma of dark roasted beans. She’d missed out on her latte this morning booking it to get here to meet Quinn. Odd considering her morning yesterday. She’d alerted Alvin she really had a change in plans.
    Grinding completed. A double scoop into the metal filter and she hit the button, turning her attention to who was on staff today. She crossed back to her desk, folded into her chair, and clicked the computer mouse. The screen lit up, filled with digital sticky notes across her computer desktop. The daylight hours were busy in operational tasks. The cleaning crews came and went. After last night, she’d need to give them strict instructions for the east wing. She typed one more note and clicked. Rotating the silver ring she wore on her thumb, she glanced at her calendar.
    The governor’s son’s stag night would require her best staff. Luckily this would-be bachelor wasn’t one of Quinn’s chums. Nevertheless, the female and male