Amber's Heat Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Amber’s Heat

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue One

  Epilogue Two

  Note from Lexxie

  eBooks by Lexxie Couper

  Excerpt

  Remembering that first meeting in the café now, however…he’d been enamored from the very second she’d touched him. Blinded by her adorability to the fact the way they’d first met was incredibly cliché. As if the whole moment had come out of some corny romantic comedy movie.

  Chest tight, inner wolf growling, he leaned an elbow on his knee and pinned her stare with his. “No lies, Am. Who are you? And why did you make sure we met in the café all those weeks ago?”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. She moistened her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. Her breasts rose and fell with a long, ragged breath. And then she closed her eyes and shook her head. “I guess if you kill me, it’ll be my own fault,” she muttered.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  She looked at him again, shoulders slumping. “I’m a paleontologist, Kitt.”

  “Like Alan Grant? In Jurassic Park?”

  “I knew I liked you for a reason!” she burst out, before slapping her palm to her mouth, eyes darting all over the room. “I mean, yes. Like Alan Grant.”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle, even as a prickling sensation swept over him. Paleontologist. Someone who studied dinosaurs. Or at least, ancient things.

  Drawing in his own long breath, he regarded her. “So what’s so secretive about being a paleontologist that you couldn’t tell me that’s what you are?”

  She met his gaze again, cheeks turning pinker. “I…umm…I specialize in Canis dirus.”

  Kitt grew motionless. His inner wolf snarled.

  Canis dirus.

  Dire wolf.

  “I mean,” she went on, eyes once again jumping all over the motel room, “paleontologists don’t specialize in one particular species, as such. We have subdisciplines—mine’s vertebrate paleontology—but some of us tend to get hung up on a particular species. So if we discover fossils of that particular animal…” She flicked him a look, and then went back to frowning at her thumbnail. “Well, I’m sure you can imagine. Canis dirus has been my main interest since I learned about them at college. I’m very good at recognizing and classifying Canis dirus fossils.”

  Blood roaring in his ears, he balled his fists. Waited until she looked back at him. “I see.”

  She licked her lips again. Her heart pounded like a cannon, hammering at his sensitive hearing.

  “Continue.” What else could he say? She’d saved him, after all. And he had no clue just how much she knew.

  Could she really know anything? Unlikely. What human would believe it, anyway?

  So why is she here? How did she know where the Monstrum Venator had you caged? Why did she save you?

  “And Amber?” he growled.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t lie to me.”

  Nodding her head, she let out a shaky breath. “When new Canis dirus fossils are found, I usually get called in,” she said. “A few months ago a new find was uncovered in the North Bijou Hills, in South Dakota.”

  North Bijou Hills.

  A cold chill rushed over him.

  Shit. North Bijou Hills.

  Surely she wasn’t… She couldn’t be.

  Staring at her, he clenched his fists tighter. He’d left nothing behind after the fight in North Bijou Hills with the mountain lion shifter over two hundred years ago. The bastard cat had stumbled upon him while he’d been mourning Basia. Had sensed Kitt’s weakness and attacked. The fight had been short but brutal. Kitt barely got out of it with his life. Had holed himself up in a nearby cave and licked his wounds for months until he was healed enough to resume human form and walk away.

  The mountain lion shifter hadn’t walked anywhere ever again.

  But that was so long ago. Over two centuries.

  She’s a paleontologist, remember. She’s all about old things.

  Forcing his body to relax, he studied her.

  “There were so many Canis dirus fossils there,” she went on, meeting his gaze. “As if hundreds of dire wolves had gone there to die over a period of a thousand years.” Her eyes grew distant and a small smile curled her lips. “It was fascinating. I’d never found a dig like it. I lost myself there. But one night, while I was working on the dig alone, I found…something else.”

  He grew still. Raced through his memory of his fight with the mountain lion shifter.

  There’d been lots of bloodshed and flesh torn. But none of it would have survived the centuries. So what—

  Your tooth.

  Pulse pounding, his tongue moved to the empty spot on his gum, way back in his mouth, where his second molar would be—if he hadn’t lost it during the fight.

  The other shifter had hit him while he’d been in human form. He’d shifted into wolf form on impact, before his body hit the ground, but his molar…

  “A tooth,” he said, forcing his voice to be calm, steady.

  She stared at him. Didn’t move.

  “You found a tooth.”

  “Yes.”

  Fuck.

  “A tooth that wasn’t right,” she said.

  He closed his eyes. Remembered the crunching blow from the shifter. “What was wrong with the tooth?”

  The question came out a raspy growl.

  The soft sounds of her fidgeting in the chair scraped at his sanity. Regretting her decisions leading up to this point? Or scared for her life?

  Opening his eyes, he looked directly at her.

  “It was a Canis dirus molar,” she said. “But it wasn’t a fossil. And it wasn’t formed correctly. It was like it was half a dire wolf’s tooth, and half…”

  She stopped.

  He waited.

  He wasn’t going to say it. She had to.

  “Half human.” She licked her lips. “I took it. Didn’t tell anyone about it. Which is completely insane and totally out of character for me. But here’s the thing—I took it because I know Canis dirus better than anyone in the country. Anyone. And I knew this tooth wasn’t just malformed. It was…something different.”

  “Different?”

  She nodded her head, a ferocity about her he’d never seen before. An excitement. “It wasn’t a normal dire wolf tooth, but what was it? I took it, studied it. Tried to extrapolate as much information from it the traditional ways, and then decided to extract any DNA I could from the root canal.”

  He closed his eyes again.

  Fuck.

  Amber’s Heat

  Guarded Souls, Book 3

  Lexxie Couper

  Published 2019 by Book Boutiques.

  ISBN: 978-1-949797-29-9

  Copyright © 2019, Lexxie Couper.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of Book Boutiques.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events is wholly coincidental. The names, characters, dialogue, and events in this book are from the author’s imagination and should not to be construed as real.

  Manufactured in the USA.


  Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Book Boutiques.

  Blurb

  He’s been a lone wolf for centuries, the last of his species. A secret. And then she enters his life. But is she the future he’d never imagined he could have…or his worst nightmare?

  Kitt Newton accepted the fact he’s the last-known dire wolf shifter on the planet centuries ago. He’s okay with that. Who really needs to be mated for life? Work keeps him occupied. Can’t think about being alone when he’s busy protecting humans, after all. However, when he’s captured by a mysterious hunter, it’s a human who has to save him—Amber Calegari, a woman he met in a café a few weeks ago.

  Amber has spent her life studying prehistoric creatures. Specifically, Canis dirus, from the late Pleistocene period. She’d thought she’d gone mad when she found evidence of an ancient human/dire wolf species. And even madder when she followed the trail to LA…and Kitt Newton. Surely the massive hunk of burly hotness couldn’t be some kind of paranormal creature? Right? And shouldn’t she, as a scientist, reveal his existence to the world if he is?

  An apex predator has no right being drawn to a weak, fragile human, but is Kitt mistaken about Amber? She’s keeping something from him, but what? And what the hell is he going to do about it? Especially when the hunter is closing in again…

  Dedication

  For Val.

  Acknowledgements

  Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs, Tibbs Design

  Prologue

  Topanga Canyon, California

  Just past midnight.

  This is insane.

  Crouching lower behind the young manzanita tree, the low, persistent hum of mosquitos buzzing in her ears, Amber squinted into the darkness.

  Damn, she should have asked Mick if he could’ve lent her a pair of night-vision goggles. All she could see of the house buried in the forest was a large black shape, into which Kitt Newton had disappeared a few moments ago.

  Of course, Mick—already suspicious after the whole “can you find out anything about this DNA” situation—probably would have handcuffed her to his weight bench until she gave him some answers, so yeah…not asking him for night-vision goggles was probably a sound move.

  But still, it would have been nice to actually see the man she was…

  Stalking? Are we going with that word yet?

  No, she wasn’t stalking. Scientists didn’t stalk. Well, none of the scientists she knew did. She was “researching.” Gathering and collating information, testing hypotheses.

  Renting a Prius for pursuit, buying camo clothes for easy…err…camouflage, packing telescopic lenses, taking photos…

  It sounded a lot like stalking. Good grief, Mick wouldn’t just handcuff her to his weight bench if he knew what she was up to, he’d throw her in jail.

  But Mick didn’t know what she knew. Mick didn’t know about the evidence she was following. If he did, he’d—

  One of the side pouches in her camo pants started vibrating. A lot.

  “Damn it.”

  Sinking lower to the pebbly ground, she dug her phone free. An image of a blond-haired, blue-eyed man in his mid-forties grinned at her from the screen.

  Biting back a groan, she connected the call and whipped her phone to her ear. “What?” she ground out. “I’m busy.”

  “Why did you ask Mick to do a trace on DNA, sis?”

  Damn it. Again. Trust her big brother to blab to his twin.

  “I’m following a trail, Ray,” she whispered, peering through the bushes. Nope, no sign of movement. “If it leads to what I think it—”

  “Damn it, Amber. You’re not Indiana Jones.”

  “Jones was an archeologist.”

  “Malcom Reynolds, then.”

  “The captain of the Serenity?”

  “The what?”

  “The Serenity. Spaceship. Browncoats. Joss Whedon.”

  “What the…” An exasperated growl came through the phone. “Then who the hell did Jeff Goldblum play in Jurassic Park?”

  “Dr. Ian Malcolm. A mathematician. Sorry, chaotician.”

  “No!” More growling. “The other guy. The actor’s Australian. Or New Zealand.”

  “Alan Grant.” She took another peek at the house. “You’re telling me I’m not Alan Grant. He was the paleontologist.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  “But I am a paleontologist, Ray. So I’m missing your—”

  A bright beam of white light cut the night as the front door of the house flew open.

  For a split second the silhouette of a tall, hulking man filled the white rectangle, shoulders hunched.

  And then, as Amber’s heart smashed into her throat, he stripped his shirt over his head and off his six-foot-six frame, tossed it aside, and threw himself into a wild sprint forward.

  Straight toward where she crouched in the bushes.

  “Shit,” she gasped, floundering backward in a wild flail.

  Landing on her ass, she bit back a yelp of pain and crunched her body up as small as she could.

  Just as a massive shape barged through the underbrush and shrubs barely a few feet away from her.

  Not the man Kitt Newton.

  Not a man at all.

  But a wolf.

  An enormous, snarling dire wolf. A creature extinct for over ten-thousand years.

  Kitt Newton, in his dire wolf form.

  And she’d missed the transformation from human to wolf thanks to her overprotective big brother. Damn it!

  “Ray,” she mumbled, heart racing as she returned her phone to her ear, “I love you, but I’ve gotta go.”

  Move over, Dr. Grant. She had some chasing to do.

  Chapter 1

  Waking up in a silver-barred cage hadn’t been on Kitt’s to-do list.

  And “regaining consciousness” would be more accurate. “Waking up” implied he’d been complicit in his transition from alert to…not alert.

  Some unknown son of a bitch had shot him.

  But with what?

  Exploring the angry wound on his left side with gentle fingers, he bit back a hiss of pain. It wasn’t getting better. Wasn’t healing.

  His dire wolf croi would have healed a normal bullet or knife wound by now. One of the perks of being a shifter—no real need for healthcare. Of course, part of his employment package with Guarded Souls included full healthcare, complete with dental and hospital coverage. He was pretty certain the generous inclusion was Kade’s attempt at ironic humor; how many of the nonhuman team members at Guarded Souls would ever need full healthcare coverage, given all of them had the ability to heal by nonhuman means?

  The wound in his left side, though?

  He pushed a little on the raw skin, put a little more pressure on his ribs—and almost broke his molars grinding his teeth at the shard of excruciating pain detonating through his torso and up into his shoulder.

  “What did you shoot me with, you prick?” he bellowed into the darkness.

  His voice bounced around the space and died.

  Silence.

  Either his captor had left him alone in whatever miserable place the cage was located, or he was enjoying the show without making his presence known.

  Apart from those few introductory lines, uttered about an hour ago, the hunter hadn’t interacted with him at all.

  Ah, you’re finally conscious, the unseen hunter had murmured from the bowels of the darkness. Excellent. That makes me very happy. I knew I’d one day catch the last dire wolf in existence, and I’d hate to think I’d mortally wounded you when I had.

  Kitt lowered his hand from his side and scanned the blackness surrounding him.

  No movement. Not even a hint.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he tasted the air.

  Nope. Nothing.

  The only scent flowing through his nose belonged to old dirt and grime and what could be moldy paper. Wherever he was, it once housed engines of some kind, and possibly a lot of paper.
r />   Printing factory, maybe?

  “What’s the chance you’re going to show yourself anytime soon?” he yelled.

  His question echoed around the black emptiness and faded away.

  “Didn’t think so,” he muttered, lowering himself to the cage floor.

  Pain ricocheted up his side and into his shoulder again, and he winced.

  What the hell had the hunter shot him with? His body had ways of dealing with the normal threats to his supernatural genetics. The one time he’d been shot with a silver bullet, his body had taken less than thirty minutes to work the bullet out.

  Yeah, he’d been weak and feverish for an hour or so after, but he’d recovered quickly.

  This…

  Sit still. Breathe. Slow your heart. Wait.

  Wait. The only thing Kitt could do. Someone at Guarded Souls would notice his absence and track him down. Hell, all James—their resident djinn—had to do was close his eyes and think of a person, and he could locate him.

  But the last you heard, the psychotic sorcerer still had James. And you wolfed out on Nim halfway through your phone call with her. She probably thinks you’re still running wild somewhere up in the Topanga Canyon hills.

  Grinding his teeth again, he glared at the darkness enveloping him.

  Can’t see a fucking…

  He blinked, realization sending an icy finger tracing up his spine.

  He couldn’t see a thing. He should be able to. Even when in human form, his vision was preternatural, as heightened as that of his dire wolf form. And a dire wolf—like most animals of the canine species, even those species alive today—saw better at night than in the day.

  “Have you realized yet,” a disembodied voice asked from somewhere beyond the cage, “that your senses aren’t as unnaturally sensitive as they normally are?”

  Kitt’s hackles pricked at the smug joy in the hunter’s voice. His inner wolf growled.

  “Have you also noticed,” the voice continued, “you haven’t shifted form yet? Or even attempted to?”

  The icy finger clawed over Kitt’s scalp. He stiffened, his throat tightening.

  The prick was right. He hadn’t.

  Why not?