An
Erie Operetta Novella 2 in the Lake Erie series
Erotic M/M Shifter Romance
V.L. Locey
Blurb:
Templeton Reed, skunk shifter,
is having trouble sharing a mansion with wolf shifters, even if one is his
beloved Mikel, the alpha of the pack. Winter has settled over Lupei mansion and
cabin fever is pushing the pack into rowdy behavior. To counter the boredom,
and to instill some decorum into his fellow wolves, Mikel announces a trip to
the opera is in order.
At first, Templeton is thrilled
to be attending such a prestigious event. He is, after all, a lesser breed, and
has never been privy to such glamorous entertainment. Sadly, what starts out as
a night of opulence and refinement turns into a murder mystery when Templeton
discovers a body in the cheap seats. Who, or what, has killed one of the elite
of the Lake Erie shifter community? Who is the stranger that arrives to oversee
the murder investigation and why is he insisting on staying at Lupei Manor?
Will Templeton survive long enough to see act two?
Excerpt:
Then,
and only then, did I wiggle out of the side of the duvet to land on the cold
bedroom floor on my hands and knees. I stood up quickly, my cock jutting out
proudly. Mikel opened one sleepy golden eye, saw my erection, flashed me a
smile filled with fang, then leaped off the bed. Toweringly tall, wide-shouldered
and lean of waist, Mikel carried over three hundred pounds on his six-foot,
seven-inch frame with magnificent masculinity. Even his damned toes were buff.
I squeaked playfully and ran. This is a fun game for a lycan. Sometimes it's
fun for me as well, as long as I know the wolf breathing down my neck will be
fucking me and not gutting me. That is a major distinction for a prey animal.
I
skittered around the bed, my hand on the tall poster that rose off the
footboard. Mikel's big foot hit a small throw rug. He sailed past me, eyes as
well as mouth wide, pawing in the air until his hand landed on his dresser.
Cologne, a wristwatch, and a jewel box sailed off the top as the dresser
lurched upward to try to support his weight.
I
was giggling like a schoolgirl when I streaked out into the hall, my balls
flapping in the wind. I had stopped and was in the process of turning to taunt
the great hunter when a football slammed into my nose. I saw brilliant white
flashes, a couple bright dots, and then blackness.
When
I came to, I was back in bed with the blankets up to my chin and a cold
compress on my nose. Three rather contrite-looking men stood at the foot of the
bed. I placed my hand on the compress. I could taste blood on my tongue.
"How
are you feeling, Templeton?" Mikel asked sheepishly, or as sheepishly as a
wolf can. He had gotten dressed while I was in La-La Land. Jeans and a thick
blue sweater suited him. I sat up. My head began throbbing violently. I lay
back down, the icy compress on my tender nose.
"You
were supposed to catch it," Dave said, holding the offending pigskin in
one hand. "I mean, I did yell to you to be like Jerry Rice. Didn't you
hear me?"
"No,
I didn't," I said, then frowned. My nose was plugged with dried blood. I
sounded congested. "Who the hell is Jerry Rice?"
"Oh
man, he is like one of the most famous running backs in--"
I
cut off Eddie with a sharp look. "I don't care about hockey!"
"It's
football, not hockey," my lover gently corrected. The two goons in Levi
Strauss and officially licensed team logo shirts looked down at their huge
feet. "I'm just saying that if you're going to live among lycans, you
should know the difference between football and hockey, Templeton."
"And
you baboons should know how to behave inside! I know that the call of the wild
is strong with you wolves, and that being cooped up inside this mansion isn't
conducive to good behavior. But, on the other hand, we are not living in Norway
with the Vikings. We are modern men, not slobbering pillagers intent on
killing, raping, looting, and playing football inside a mansion!" I yelled,
instantly hating how much I sounded like some medieval fishwife. I think I was
haranguing. I did not wish to be a haranguer.
"I
would love to pillage," Eddie said with a grin that crinkled his scarred
face and lit his gentle eyes. Dave agreed instantly, his eyes glowing with the
ancient need to engage in bloodletting. Mikel cleared his throat, ending the
wistful talk of the lycan homelands.
"They
meant no harm, Templeton," the alpha repeated. I swear, I am going to get
a t-shirt printed up for Mikel with that platitude printed on it. Both men
nodded enthusiastically. "You're correct, though. I have been letting them
run wild and it has to stop. The long winter is making us cabin-fevered and
restless. Our minds are slipping, allowing our baser nature to come out."
"Exactly,"
I said. "What we need is some class, refinement, and decorum to remind us
of what proper gents you three can be."
"I
don't like ties," Eddie muttered under his breath.
"Suits
make me chafe," Dave whispered to the side.
Mikel
nodded in understanding. "Yes, I know, being confined in tight clothing
isn't the way of the young lycan." He padded around the bed, removed my
compress, then ran a hand over my head, smoothing my hair from my brow. "But
this is something you must learn. Being civil and refined is our way of life
now. So, to that end, I think I will call the opera house to see what
production is coming next."
"Opera?" both subordinates moaned.
Buy
Links:
Author
Bio:
V.L. Locey
loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek
mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in
that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two
cats, a flock of assorted goofy domestic fowl, and two steers: one named after a famous N.H.L.
goalie while the other carries the moniker of a 60s pop legend.
When not
writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the
rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be
found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
I love to
meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-
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