By
NY Times Bestselling Author
Selena Blake

Kendall Carver knows one thing for sure – security doesn’t last. Injured and on the run, a sinfully handsome stranger saves her life.

Cajun werewolf Burke Devereux learned his lesson 200 years ago. No humans, ever. No looking, no touching, no kissing and certainly no making love. Eager to escape his Pack’s matchmaking attempts he heads for his cabin. But nothing could have prepared him for the raging blizzard or the beautiful woman begging for his help.

Burke’s always prided himself on his self control but as things get cozy, desire sparks and old secrets are brought to light. He must decide how far he will go to protect her.

Once again I’ve started a book at the end of the series instead of the beginning. I really need to do better with that aspect, although it does tend to make me want to go back to the beginning.

Burke is headed to his cabin in New Hampshire, some skiing would help him settle a bit. The strain from everyone in his family pushing him to mate is overwhelming. He didn’t expect to be traveling in a blizzard or for a little red car to go zooming around him. Even with four wheel drive it was hard navigating the road.

Now anyone who’s ever driven in a snow storm knows what happens to speeding little cars and this one ends up like expected, in a snow drift. Which of course almost causes Burke to lose control of his vehicle as well, but though he struggles, manages to be okay.

He knows he has to check the vehicle and the driver when he has no cell signal.

This is a favorite scene.

The other driver made no move to back out of the drift and Burke figured that the idiot had wrecked his car. He pulled out his cell phone. He’d report the wreck and wait until the wrecker got here. If it got here.

No signal.

Great. He tossed the phone aside and reached behind the passenger’s seat for his coat. Maybe the lunatic in the other car had a phone that would work. Tendrils of snow swooshed into the car as he opened the door. Bracing against the icy wind, he planted one boot in the ankle-deep snow and then the other.

Tugging on his thick Northface coat, he headed down the road toward the other car, once again questioning his decision to try to beat the storm.

The collision had killed the engine, mangling what he could see of the front end.

Ah hell.

A blonde lay hunched over the steering wheel, not moving. Blood soaked the back of her gray sweatshirt. He knocked on the window and wished he’d tugged on his gloves. The woman didn’t move. He peered into the car, looking for a phone, and saw a large purse wedged between her chest and the steering wheel.

He tested the handle of her door. Locked. Figured. The small window behind the driver’s seat was shattered, half the glass missing. He reached through the gaping hole and flipped the lock.

He wrenched the door open and checked the pulse at her throat. Still thumping. He braced both hands around her neck and the base of her skull and then, as gently as he could, settled her back in her seat and took stock of her injuries.

And arrestingly adorable features. She looked like an angel, a cherub, with glossy pink lips. With a bloody gash across her forehead and— was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe, too.

A fierce wind howled overhead, making the trees sway and groan. She gave a soft moan, and then, as if she’d awakened, her body went rigid.

“You’re okay, petit. Just relax. Where do you hurt?”

Stunning aqua blue eyes met his for an instant before she closed them again, wincing. The fear he’d glimpsed there shocked him. “Please,” she said, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. He leaned toward her to hear over the roar of the elements. “Don’t let… him… take me.”

There was a raw desperation to her plea, and somehow he knew that this woman had rarely, if ever, asked for help. But she was asking now. No. She was begging.

He pivoted to look back down the road. Aside from the brilliant white snow, all he saw were bony gray tree trunks. It wasn’t fit for man or polar bear out here. Who the hell was chasing her? Better question, what was she doing in this storm?

The woman didn’t answer. She’d passed out cold, her body limp in the seat again. Gritting his teeth, he surveyed the damage to her car. He’d be surprised if it wasn’t totaled.

What he needed was a cell phone signal.

Hoping she didn’t wake up, freak out, and deck him in the balls, he leaned into the car and unzipped her purse. Using her door as cover from the wind, he squatted down and opened the bag. He’d never snooped through a woman’s purse before. Had never had any need to, until now. And though he wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find, he had at least hoped it would contain a cell phone.

Or a flare gun.

Hell, at this point, with cold snow biting his ass, he’d settle for a homing pigeon.

But what he found inside her bag was baffling. A curling iron that had seen better days, half a bag of Doritos, and a smorgasbord of cosmetics. Mostly lip gloss. In every shade and flavor imaginable. But no cell phone.

Is this how she planned on protecting herself? Distract the guy with a flash of Berry Tasty lipstick and the scent of flavored corn chips, then beat him over the head with the curling iron before choking him with the frayed wire?

He would have laughed if the situation weren’t so dire. The car let out an agonizing groan as another blast of air hit them, whipping her hair away from her face.

Maybe he could head back down the mountain for help but in this weather, who knew how long it would take him to return? She’d have frostbite by the time he got back. No, he couldn’t leave her.

What the hell are you doing, Deveraux? You’re not a knight on a white steed. Just close the door and get on the road. She’s not your problem.

But he couldn’t stop the protective instincts surging inside him. He was after all, male and a werewolf, both of which made him territorial to the core. Besides, what kind of asshole left a complete stranger, an unconscious woman, alone in a blizzard to fend for herself?

He glanced at her body. She wore a pair of jeans and a thin looking sweater. Letting his eyes trail down her curvy frame, he frowned at the sneakers on her feet. Way to prepare for the Great White North, lady.

He flipped open her wallet and glanced at her photo. She was truly angelic when awake and unbloodied. Her name was Kendall Carver from somewhere he’d never heard of in Florida state.

All right, Kendall Carver from Florida, let’s get you out of here.

After zipping her purse, he carefully scooped her up. Settling her against his chest, he turned for his Land Rover and tried to ignore the delicious feel and sweet scent of the beautiful woman unconscious in his arms.

A loud crack sounded overhead. Burke’s gaze jerked up to the ice-covered trees. Pop. Muscles tensed, he bolted for his SUV as a massive tree sliced through the forest, raining ice and snow around them. The boom of tree connecting with earth jolted his bones.

There was an instant of groaning metal, then a bright flash of light, then a wave of heat and a loud bang. Sheltering the woman in his arms, he dared a glance over his shoulder. Her car was no more.

Gin barked from the backseat, but Burke needed no urging. He wrenched the rear passenger’s door open and told his companion to get in the back. Gin obeyed the order, his big black nose twitching as he tried to catch Kendall’s scent. Somehow Burke managed to adjust the seats and settle her without jarring her too badly. At least he hoped so. She didn’t rouse. He shrugged out of his coat and tucked it around her from chin to foot.

He shut the door and surveyed the damage. Through the thick snow he saw the massive tree lying where he’d just been standing, now a pile of splintered wood. The debris covered his footprints.

Thank the gods she hadn’t been in it.

Another gust of wind battered the mountain, fanning the plume of black smoke into a gray fog.

His keen ears picked up the sound of a motor on the road below. Gin stood in the back and let out a low growl. If Kendall was right about someone following her, they’d have to do it on foot. But he wasn’t going to stick around to watch.
Selena Blake. Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf: A Stormy Weather Story (Kindle Locations 101-155).

Once back to his cabin with her, he checks her for injuries and finds she’s been shot. Now he’s got to remove a bullet to prevent this human from getting an infection or worse.

When Kendall wakes, she knows she’s warm but isn’t sure she’s safe. Her magic is locked so she has none of the senses she’s used to using. She looks and smells human, although she isn’t.

Burke, finds himself attracted to Kendall but he’s sworn off humans. The pain of that one relationship so many years ago won’t allow him to go that route, ever again.

As she heals and their attraction grows, he comes up with a solution to both their problems. At least he thinks so.

A short perfect bed-time read with just the right amount of heat.

5 Contented Purrs for Selena!

   Selena Blake

An action movie buff with a penchant for all things supernatural and sexy, Selena Blake combines her love for adventure, travel and romance into steamy paranormal romance. Selena’s books have been called “a steamy escape” and have appeared on bestseller lists, been nominated for awards, and won contests. When she’s not writing you can find her by the pool soaking up some sun, day dreaming about new characters, and watching the cabana boy (aka her muse), Derek. Fan mail keeps her going when the diet soda wears off so write to her at selenablake@gmail.com