Return to the world of the wolves of Langeais in 10^th century France. Aimon Proulx, chevalier and werewolf, is all but stands between the notorious Count of Anjou, a scheming archbishop, a traitor to the pack and something they thought no longer existed—a female werewolf.

She’s not supposed to exist. Finding her changes everything.

Kathryn Beauchene has spent most of her life in the shadows. As a daughter of a minor chevalier, she’s rarely the focus of the Langeais nobility. That changes when her wealthy and powerful cousin vanishes, and the Count of Anjou bestows on them his estate. The count is using her cousin’s estate and unwed Kathryn as bait.

But Kathryn has a secret. One that haunts her nights and threatens everything she holds dear.

Three years ago, Aimon Proulx almost died. Becoming a werewolf has given him another chance at life and opened him up to a world he never knew existed. Now the pack who rescued him is under threat and he will do anything to save them.

When he catches the scent of a female werewolf, something they’d all believed extinct, he vows to protect her and keep her safe.

Kathryn stands to lose more than her secret. With her burnished copper locks and feisty temperament, Aimon fears their enemies aren’t the only thing Kathryn’s in danger from.

Excerpt

Aimon Proulx.

Standing in the gloom of the trees, he watched her. Silent. His long white-blond hair fell about his shoulders, his blue surcoat rustled in the breeze and his hand rested on the pommel of the sword belted to his waist. There he was, the chevalier from her dream, looking every bit the angelic warrior she had imagined him to be.

Her pulse raced and her thighs clenched. The beast hammered at her consciousness. A bone in her hand cracked and claws extended from two fingers. She hid them behind her skirts.

No. Please, no.

Aimon stepped closer, his musky scent intensifying, and his gaze fixed on her with a fervor that stirred feelings in her no man had ever elicited before.

The beast thrashed within. Another bone popped in her finger. Kathryn held her breath. If she looked, she would see coarse red hair sprouting across the back of her hand. She fought the change, and it halted, but it did not regress. Aimon could not be here with her. Not now. Not with the beast so close to breaking free. She must make him leave before she lost all authority over the darkness within. Before she lost the battle and shifted into a slavering monster. Before she attacked him.

“I suspected my change in circumstances would attract men to our door,” she said, attempting to keep any hint of her panic from entering her voice. “I did not imagine it would begin so soon.”

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving her face as though mesmerized. Never had she been the focus of such scrutiny. It unnerved her and scratched at the frayed edges of her control. The sharp point of a canine scraped against the inside of her mouth. She willed it to recede, testing it with her tongue to ensure it had.

“Perhaps you would do me the kindness of visiting the keep, Monsieur Aimon.” She pointed in its direction. “My father and I would be happy to receive you.”

The breeze floated his scent to her, and her nostrils quivered. His scent. Like the siren song of mermaids, it called to her monster, luring it from the depths of her mind. Oh, why did he not smell like other chevaliers? Of horsehair, stale sweat, blood and steel? She wished he did, rejoiced he did not.

Why is this happening? Now? He came. The one vassal out of all of them she had hoped to attract. She wanted to smile at him, converse with him, but for his own safety, he must leave.

“Have you gone mute, Monsieur Aimon, or do you often skulk in the forest, catching unsuspecting women off guard?” She cringed at her harsh words, but he had left her little choice.

He tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow at her. “Do you often wander the forest unaccompanied and barefoot?” he countered.

She flushed and snatched up her boots and veil from where she had discarded them. If he would not leave, then she must. “Good evening, Monsieur Aimon. I suggest you call on us in the morning.”

She spun on a barefooted heel and headed toward the keep. Of course, he had noticed her state of undress. How long had he stood there watching? Had he seen her alight from the wagon? Spied on her as she had spun around, barefoot and her hair loose, reveling in her freedom? Kathryn’s heart ached. In all likelihood, after witnessing such wanton behavior, after the way she had spoken to him so rudely, he would decide against presenting himself to the keep, and she would never see him again. She had ruined everything.

A rush of air whooshed past her, and suddenly Aimon stood in front of her, cutting off her retreat. Her momentum propelled her into his chest.

“Oh!” She stumbled away from him.

He reached out and grasped her arm, steadying her.

“How did you…?” She looked back over her shoulder to where he had been, then back at him, clutching her boots and veil to her chest. “You moved so fast, I…” Intent on fleeing, had she not noticed his pursuit of her? She raised her eyes to meet his, much closer now. Too close. A shiver raced up her spine and a soft growl rumbled in her chest. She sucked in a panicked breath. If he heard it, he gave no hint.

He reached out and touched her hair with a gentleness that was almost reverent. “You have the most glorious hair.” He let the strands slide through his fingers. “The color is like nothing I have ever seen on a woman before. Like the leaves of the maple tree in the autumn.”

Her knees wobbled. He likes my hair.

His fingers delved into her hair again, brushing against her neck, and his gaze dipped to her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to lick her lips, suddenly gone dry, and his blue eyes flared with heat. Her breath came in shallow pants, and she leaned closer. Would he kiss her?

His hand slipped from her hair, down to cradle her neck, and he drew her closer. Another bone in her hand cracked, but she could not make herself move. She swallowed hard. He stilled, his mouth hovering a mere breath away from hers, her lips tingling in anticipation.

This may well be the only chance she got.

Kathryn bridged the gap between them, and he pressed his mouth to hers. She gasped, her lips softening, and her eyes fluttered closed.

L’enfer.

Her heart’s pounding beat echoed in her ears. She leaned into him without thought or conscious effort, her hand reaching up of its own volition, and she placed her palm on his chest. This one kiss, this light touching of lips, stoked a fire within her she had not dreamed could exist.

The change roared up, powerful, insistent and threatening to strip away the last shred of her humanity. She wrenched herself from his grasp. Hiding her shifting hand beneath her veil, she pushed past him and slipped beyond his grasp so he could not stop her.

Hand over her mouth, her lips still warm from his kiss, she sobbed as she raced from the forest. She had to get away from him before she let the beast loose. He wouldn’t like her hair then. Not when she had the power to hurt him, to physically tear him to pieces.

Out now: https://books2read.com/u/mgYqxK

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He’s all she loathes. She’s everything he needs. Time isn’t the only barrier she’ll cross to gain her heart’s desire.

Archaeologist Erin Richardson loves her job, but the dig in France is something else. A crumbling keep, a dungeon and the search for legendary chevalier Gaharet d’Louncrais… Her imagination is running overtime. Thank God he’s long dead and only comes to life in her dreams. Until a mysterious amulet sends her back to the tenth century. Now her fantasy has become her reality.

Gaharet d’Louncrais needs a wife. He’s powerful and handsome and women vie for his attention. If they knew his secret, they’d run for their lives. Forget love. Forget finding his true mate. He’d forsake it all to save his wolf pack from extinction. But when Erin appears, with her strange clothes and her even stranger tale, she stirs his inner beast. He wants nothing more than to claim her as his own.

Erin knows a player when she sees one. Arrogant and charming, he’s everything she’s guarded her heart against. The Dark Ages are no fairy-tale, and she will need to fight to survive, but the most dangerous thing of all is the way Gaharet makes her feel.

She needs to find a way home. Gaharet needs her to stay. And now he’s found her, he plans on never letting her go.

https://firstforromance.com/book/wolfs-keep

About the Author

K.E Turner can’t remember a time when she wasn’t writing stories or reading books—as a teenager in class instead of doing math, in her lunch break at work, or at home when there’s housework to be done. With a love of history, mystery, suspense, paranormal, and romance, she likes combining more than one element in her stories.

She writes spicy paranormal romances and romantic suspense, with strong but good hearted heroes, smart, sassy heroines and an often unexpected villain, or two, to shake things up.

A Western Australian based author, she lives with her husband, two dogs, two cats and a plethora of farm animals on their property in the southern region of the state. A hopeless romantic, she enjoys beach sunsets, sitting by the wood fire with a good book, a nice shiraz and good food.