Shriek for Me, Darling (Book 3.5)

By Lotte Larsen

One dark and stormy night, hare shifter Dale is abandoned at a gothic B&B. The power is out. Halloween is around the corner. And Dale is terrified of everything, especially his gorgeous host, Pascal.
Dale's overactive libido is ready to go bump in the night with Pascal but there's something not quite right about the seductive predator shifter. Should Dale stay and explore the sexy side of fear or run for his life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lotte Larsen
• Release date: Oct 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370934942

Lotte Larsen

Lotte Larsen is a Swedish-Canadian who lives in Toronto, Ontario. She hopes you have as much fun reading her smutty little pulps as she has writing them.

Book preview

SHIFTYMENINLOVE #3.5

SHRIEK FOR ME, DARLING

Lotte Larsen

Copyright © Lotte Larsen, 2016

Cover design copyright © Lotte Larsen, 2016

This cover was designed using Gimp 2.8

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Find more smutty little pulps by searching for Lotte Larsen at your favourite ebook retailer.

Table of Contents

One: The B&B

Two: Pascal

Three: Breakfast

Four: Night Games

Five: The Mystery Deepens

Six: House of Horror

Seven: The Truth

Eight: Prey and Predator

Nine: Halloween

One: The B&B

Dale clutched his duffle bag and watched the dark Cotswolds countryside through the tour bus windows with growing alarm. There were no lights on the narrow road. Rain pounded the small vehicle. Trees lashed its sides like they wanted to toss it into the fields beyond. Dale's hare Speedy skittered around his mind, amping up his anxiety. His love of literature, which had brought him to England, populated the darkness with monsters.

The trees outside his window became a tall stone wall. Lightning illuminated a jagged roofline and crooked chimneypots. Dale flinched again at the crash of thunder. Stella slowed the bus to a stop in front of the tall iron gate and opened the door, letting in the chilly wind.

Out you go, Dale.

Did she have to sound so cheerful? Dale hugged his bag tighter. You know very well I'm not disrupting your tour. You can't abandon me in the middle of nowhere like this.

Nonsense. The bed and breakfast is right through the gate. I told you Rook Tours has paid for two nights and refunded the rest of your tour package, which I think is more than generous under the circumstances.

Dale looked at the comfortable tourists filling the plush seats; none of them looked at him. He stood and edged reluctantly up the aisle to the door. Another lightening stroke lit the mansion in full gothic horror glory. Another long rumble. He glanced at Stella and she gave him that predatory grin of hers.

Go on then. We haven't got all night.

Muted grumbling from the passengers.

Dale had no choice but to step out into the storm. Of course the bus splashed him as it sped away, red taillights vanishing around the bend. Pitch darkness. Rain soaked his head and ran in icy trails down his neck. He slid in the mud and fell against the gate which let out a shriek louder than his own. Then he was racing up the slippery cobbled drive, towards a faint flickering light that maybe he only imagined. The wooden porch groaned under his feet. He hammered on the door for ages before it creaked open, revealing a tall candlelit figure with a face like a death mask.

Welcome to my—

Dale bolted back up the drive, across the road and into the hedge.

I'm sorry I scared you, Dale. May I help you with your coat?

No, thank you, Pascal.

With three brass candelabras reflecting in the large gilded mirror, the foyer was bright enough for Dale to see the B&B host clearly but he didn't want the man close to him. Pascal was in his early thirties, a little older than Dale, and disturbingly handsome in a gaunt, gothic way. Pascal played it up by wearing all black from his fitted sweater to his carpet slippers. Pascal's spiked purple hair hinted at fun but his deep grey eyes followed Dale's every move like he was waiting to pounce.

Dale hung his coat up and pulled off