Psychic Hunters 2 - Primal Male,

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//-->PRIMAL MALEBooks By Sasha WhitePURE SEXTHE COPLUSHSEXY DEVILPRIMAL MALEPublished by Kensington Publishing CorporationPRIMAL MALESASHA WHITEAPHRODISIAKENSINGTON BOOKSContentsAcknowledgmentsPROLOGUEChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31EPILOGUEAcknowledgmentsThere are a few people I have to thank for helping me get this story right. First andforemost is my editor, John Scognamiglio. John, thank you for your faith, and yourpatience. I hope I made you proud.Another person who I owe a big thanks to is J.J. Massa: my critique partner, my friend,and master of kicking my butt. Thank you for the late nights and the support.Delilah Devlin, I owe you a huge thanks for trying to teach me how to plot, and forsticking with me when we discovered my brain just does not work that way, no matterhow hard I try.Diva Gwen, you jumped right in when I needed you. Thank you. Erin, as always. Youwere there to keep me on track, and I appreciate it more than you could know.And thank you to my brother, Shawn, for his technical expertise in making the shotshit what I was aiming at.Many thanks to the Allure Authors, Cathryn, Myla, Delilah, Lisa, Sylvia and Vivi, foralways being there to laugh, to yell, to listen and to support. You’ve all become veryspecial to me, and I’m proud of our sisterhood.PROLOGUET he big Montana sky was a deep and endless blue, the air crisp and clean, thesurrounding silence welcome. The sun glared off the snow-covered mountains,warming his back while a chill seeped through the shooting mat he lay on over thesnow. He cradled his cheek against the stock of the Timberwolf; the big .338 LapuaMagnum rested on its bipod as he lay in wait.He concentrated on his breathing, slow and smooth, in and out, keeping his heart ratesteady as he mentally rechecked his firing solution. The range 760 yards, a twenty-degree down angle gave him a corrected range of 714 yards. A few leaves rustled atthe 600 yard mark, but a one-mile-per-hour wind wouldn’t require a correction for thebig cartridge.The math helped him block out any distractions—including the chill from the groundand the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one hunting that afternoon.Without Warning, Sans Remorse. The military snipers’ motto came quick and easy tohis mind.Seven hundred sixty yards away, near the far edge of the clearing slightly below him,a living, breathing, and bleeding jackrabbit was staked out. He could almost hear itscries, like the sounds of a screaming baby. The wolf did hear it, that’s what lured himin. That, and the scent of fresh blood. It slowly inched its way around the edge of theclearing, stalking its prey.Drake’s finger tightened on the trigger, holding on the second stage as he tracked thebeast’s movements. It was clear this wolf was no ordinary wild animal. The size of itwas a clue, but the thing that really stood out was the complete caution with which itentered the clearing. Instead of attacking the flailing rabbit, the wolf inched forwardslowly, nose lifted as he scented the air, almost as if he expected a trick. Drake tookup the pound of pressure on the trigger. The hand-turned silver bullet burst from thebarrel—the muzzle break had worked perfectly, allowing him to watch the impact,right through the ribs of the beast. The sound of the meaty contact reached Drake’sears a couple of seconds later.Drake stood, ran the bolt, applied the safety, folded the bipod’s legs, and slung therifle over his shoulder. With quick, sure steps he made his way off the small snow-covered boulder he’d used as a perch and through the trees. By the time he reachedthe clearing, the beast was gone. In its place a naked man lay on the frozen ground,little bubbles forming in the thick blood oozing from his chest as he struggled forbreath.“H-how?” he wheezed. “Why?”Drake lowered his mental shields and reached out. Sure enough, the man’s confusionwas feigned. Anger and malice, cut by a cold intelligence, made it clear the man wasstalling, trying to buy time for his wound to heal so he could attack Drake. Being anempath made Drake a handy human lie detector.“Half a dozen deaths in this county, in the last three months alone, where the cause ofdeath is listed as mauling by wild animal—dog or wolf.” His voice as emotionless andblank as his expression. Drake brought the rifle up, aiming at the man’s forehead.“You hunt people, wolf, big boys’ rules.”Acceptance flickered in his target’s eyes a second before Drake squeezed the trigger.Blood and brains stained the almost-pristine snow as the shot echoed across the hills.1D rake was so engrossed in the papers in front of him that he wasn’t even aware of thewarmth seeping into his system when it first began. Eyes flicking back and forth frompapers to computer screen, mind locked onto one path, he was completely focused onthe project in front of him—until the warmth turned to heat and desire washed overhim, firing up his blood and making his cock swell.Gritting his teeth, he lifted his head and scanned the room. The main office space ofHunter Protection Group resembled the bullpen of a cop shop—organized chaos. HPGemployed a dozen field agents, all of them with a special talent for hunting the thingsthat go bump in the night, plus support and technical staff. More than half of that staffwas in the office that day, and all of them were giving off one emotion or another. Acrowd always meant that, once Drake’s attention was pulled from the task at hand,emotions came at him from all sides.Frustration, anxiety, worry, happiness, contentment, and finally the desire. Drake hadlearned at a very young age to protect himself from the emotions that he felt all tooeasily. After thirty-plus years, keeping his psychic shields up at all times wasautomatic, but every now and then he slipped.Less than five feet away Jewel Kattalis perched on the corner of his partner’s desk,and Angelo Devlin, AKA “Devil,” was eating the woman up with his eyes. A persondidn’t need to be an empath to know what the guy was thinking. Except Drake was anempath. So not only could he guess what Devil was thinking, he could feel what hewas feeling.Heat. A lot of heat, coursing through his veins and settling in his dick.Swallowing a groan, Drake gritted his teeth and tried to get control. He closed hiseyes, breathed deep, and slammed shut the psychic pathway in his mind that had easedopen when he wasn’t paying attention. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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