Here’s an EXCLUSIVE sneak peek at the first book in Noelle Mack’s new Brava trilogy, Wild (The Pack of St.James, Book 1), released 26 Feb…

First the back cover blurb:

     Kyril. Marko. Semyon. Brothers like no other, sworn to lead the Pack of St. James and defend the English crown, though the blood of Russian wolves runs in their veins. In 1815, every woman in London has heard of their legendary passion for seduction–but no one knows of the supernatural powers that raise them far above the ranks of mortal men.

     Dangerous Lover

     In pursuit of a priceless treasure stolen from his homeland, Kyril commands the Pack to gather in secret. A rash act by one woman–one extraordinary woman, the sensual and utterly alluring Vivienne Sheridan–has put their ancient clan in peril. He vows to find her–and find out her every secret–before it is too late…

     Hidden in a ruined mansion, concealed by the shadows of a moonlit night, Vivienne comes forth, drawn to Kyril by a mysterious magic she is unable to resist. In his powerful embrace, Vivienne senses the wild nature beneath his gentlemanly façade–and she surrenders to his intimate touch. Whatever he wants, she will give…with all the passion of a woman mesmerized…

Read on for the excerpt…

 

It was just as well that Kyril had left Russia. In his wolfish way he had considered himself a patriot but no longer. Volkodav had not known who Kyril was but his icy gaze made it clear what the Wolf Killer thought of men who were not like himself.

Kyril stood up and went to look at himself in the mirror over her chest of drawers. To his amazement, the swelling had gone down.

Pah. He might look better but he was suddenly seeing stars from standing up too quickly. He would not tell her that. But more than ever he knew that his injury had affected his reason. And his sense of time. Here, with her, it seemed to stand still.

“You have a healing touch, Vivienne.”

“Nonsense.”

“You do,” he insisted. “I believe the cheekbone is not broken after all.”

She rose and moved behind him, looking over his shoulder at his reflection. “Hmm. You do look better.” She wrinkled her nose. “But you smell bad.”

That would be because you make me sweat when you stand so close, Vivienne. She could not read his mind, fortunately. “Do I?” was all he said.

“The heroes in the book did not,” she said pertly.

He gritted his teeth. “They were only picture. I am real.”

If she stepped forward just one more inch, her nipples would brush his back. If his clothes—and her robe—were to vanish, her nipples would touch bare skin.

If only they could step into a picture in the book themselves and leave the world as they knew it behind.

His groin tightened unbearably. His cock pulsed. Kyril rested his hands atop the chest of drawers and moved forward himself, away from her. Without her knowing it, he pressed his achingly erect flesh against an ornate brass handle until it hurt…and subsided.

But he could not stop looking at her. Knowing that she was behind him, close enough to capture in his arms if he turned around and followed his instincts—

He was ready to shatter the looking-glass with one blow. The intimacy of their position was overwhelming. A mood this sensual had no beginning and no end—he wanted it to go on forever.

He fought for self-control. He reminded himself of the threat that might have already cast a shadow over her quiet street. And he racked his aching brain for a pretext that would allow him to stay just a little longer.

“May I see the book, Vivienne? I really do not remember it all that well.”

“Of course. It is in my study.”

She drew her robe more tightly around her and went to the door. Kyril sighed with relief. He would have a chance to compose himself.

Not likely. Not in a boudoir like this. The waiting bath, the fragrance of her fine soap—it was a new cake, he noticed.

How he would love to soften it in the hot bath and rub her all over with it…then rinse her lovingly…and watch the water roll down her velvet skin…

Vivienne came back and held the book out to him. “Here it is.”

Kyril took it with a nod. The volume was even smaller than he remembered, not useful for concealing the erection that had stiffened his cock to its full length. He would have needed an encyclopedia for that.

Thank God she looked at the book in his hands, then at his face, and not down.

He opened, leafing through without reading it. He noticed the illustrations she had described and came to one that she had not.

She lifted the crinkly sheet that protected it.

Just that gesture—the fragile paper held in her fingertips and lifted up while her beautiful eyes widened with appreciation—made him want to ravish her. Kyril groaned inwardly.

The picture was of a Roemi warrior but he was not throwing a spear or dying on the battlefield. He had been vanquished by love.

“You are beautiful, Vivienne. And I would have you.”

Such a masculine voice, deep and rough-edged. She loved the sound of it, loved to hear him talk. She sighed. “I know that women never refuse you, Kyril. But I–”

He drew the heavy velvet curtain that hung in voluptuous folds over the window and moved with alacrity to stand in front of her, interrupting her reply. “Will you not stay with me tonight? My carriage is outside and no one will see you leave here.”

“I—I cannot.”

He reached up a hand to caress her cheek. Vivienne felt a hot blush suffuse her skin that his stroking intensified. “Is there no way to persuade you?” Coaxing and tender, his thumb traced the line of her chin.

“No.” But the light sensation of his touch thrilled her all the same. She did not push his hand away. “I must consider my reputation. What is left of it.”

“Bah. Your guests went home long ago and your servants are nowhere in sight.”

“That does not matter.” His determination was flattering but his presence made her uneasy. “I would rather be in my own bed in the morning.”

“Alone?” He inclined his head and pressed ardent kisses to the side of her neck. Vivienne moaned softly—the pleasurable stimulation was almost too much to bear.

“Yes, Kyril. Quite alone.”

He moved down to her shoulders, kissing and stroking her bare skin until languorous, highly sensual warmth spread through her.

“It seems a very great shame.”

His arms stole around her waist in a lover’s embrace. His nearness was overwhelming. Vivienne arched her back, wanting and not wanting to be a little distance from the pressure of his body. She placed her hands upon his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart through her palms.

“Ah, what you do to me…” Kyril kissed her neck once more and lifted his head. She could not help but meet his eyes. A dark blue, like twilight, they reflected no detail of her face or the room in which they stood—and yet they glowed.

He smiled down at her and Vivienne felt a dizzying vertigo. If not for his arms around her, she would have fallen. For no more than a moment, she had glimpsed something very odd in his eyes…a vision of a wild and forsaken otherworld buried in white. As if that were what he saw and not her. He blinked and the vision disappeared, but his words came back to her…

From the far north came men of a legendary race, born in the shadow of the blue sun that never sets. They ruled the frozen seas and rode its terrible winds…and they were masters of the great ice wolves that are no more…

The fanciful tale that he had entertained her with when the servants had at last left them alone by the fire in the drawing room. A fantasy, nothing more, remembered from his childhood in Russia. Suddenly, caught in his possessive, encircling embrace, Vivienne was ready to believe that the tale was something more than fantasy and something less than real. But what its meaning was, she could not say. She could not think. His warm hand had moved up her back and clasped the nape of her neck. The gesture was both calming and sensual. In an instant, her feeling of falling vanished, replaced by one of stillness and safety… Vivienne straightened. She was not safe. No woman was, with him. With a slight shake of her head, she dismissed the momentary vision and her wayward imaginings. Tonight’s soiree had dragged on too long and she was fatigued, that was all.

He would not possess her.

Since his arrival in London two years ago, the tall, darkly handsome Kyril Taruskin had been much whispered about. His heavy-lidded eyes and full mouth hinted at a talent for passionate lovemaking—and his conquests were many. Vivienne had heard the rumors, but invited him to her soirees all the same, presuming that she, a woman of the world and the former mistress of a duke who still adored her, would be immune to his sensual charm.

Foolish of her.

“Oh!” She breathed the word, startled by what he was doing. The slight pressure of his thumb under her chin brought her face up to his.

“Well, then,” he whispered. “Shall I stay a little longer?”

“N-no. Please go.”

“Vivienne…to satisfy your intimate desires would give me the deepest delight.”

It was just after midnight—she had heard the church bells toll the hour and the candles had burned low. The fireplace held a broken mass of scarlet embers that danced with shivering little flames. She closed her eyes, avoiding his intent gaze, not wanting to see his mouth so close to hers. But Kyril did not try to kiss her.

All he did was touch her once more.

Vivienne steeled herself to resist the brazen sensuality of his caress. His fingertips brushed the side of her neck that he had kissed and then moved lower, over her collarbone, causing her bared flesh to tingle. She should not have worn such deep décolletage. He was smiling down at her again, self-restrained…and somehow…ready to pounce. He embodied masculine elegance, but his dark clothes and immaculate linen only brought out his wildness that much more. That quality too was much talked about—it was something Vivienne found overpoweringly attractive.

She prayed Kyril’s hand would not move lower to the swell of her breasts…but it did. His exploring caress was deliciously stimulating.

Vivienne sighed without knowing it and swayed toward him. Then she came back to her senses. Kyril Taruskin could not get the better of her so easily.

Now you HAVE to go buy the book, doncha?