Blood Tenderly

By Linda Mooney and Gail Smith

With the cold weather quickly setting in, Lark is trying to ensure she has what she needs to make it through another bone-chilling winter in the cabin in the woods, but something has decided to pay her a visit. The question is, who? Or better yet, what?

There is a human invading his sanctuary, and he is determined to get rid of her. Humans in the past have left of their own accord, but not without a threat from him. However, this one is proving difficult. But she’ll go. One way or another, he will make her.

The thing is demanding that Lark leave, but she has nowhere to go. No one who cares.  So she's determined to stand her ground.

After all, what does she have to lose, besides her life? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Linda Mooney
• Release date: Oct 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781941321768

Linda Mooney

Linda loves to write sensuously erotic romance with a fantasy, paranormal, or science fiction flair. Her technique is often described as being as visual as a motion picture or graphic novel. A wife, mother, grandmother, and retired Kindergarten and music teacher, she lives in a small south Texas town near the Gulf coast where she delves into other worlds filled with daring exploits, adventure, and intense love. She has numerous best sellers, including 10 consecutive #1s. In 2009, she was named Whiskey Creek Press Torrid's Author of the Year, and her book My Strength, My Power, My Love was named the 2009 WCPT Book of the Year. In 2011, her book Lord of Thunder was named the Epic Ebook "Eppie" Award Winner for Best Erotic Sci-Fi Romance. In addition, she write naughty erotic romances under the name of Carolyn Gregg, and horror under the pseudonym of Gail Smith. For more information about Linda Mooney books and titles, and to sign up for her newsletter, please visit her website. http://www.LindaMooney.com

Book preview

One

He first became aware of her presence when she passed him on her way down to the stream. It was an odd fall day, more summery heat than cooler autumn. He’d been tracking deer when he heard a sound that was totally foreign to the woods. Stunned, he paused and listened for the source.

Humming.

Intrigued and angry, he followed the source when he spied the figure trudging past the trees until she reached the water where she stopped. Remaining in the shadows, he watched as she bent over the narrow stream and took a drink before scooping up handfuls of the dark, almost blood-red clay from the bed. She dumped more than six heaping handfuls into a can before she picked up the container, straightened, and began her journey back to wherever she’d come from.

He tracked her, making sure she neither saw him nor heard him. Anger slowly boiled inside him. He could not tolerate her being here. These were his woods, his domain, and other than the animals that he used as a food source, no one else was allowed to be here. It would be interesting to see where she was going. To see if she was visiting, or a deliberate trespasser. Because if she had set down roots, he would need to deal with her intrusion, and quickly.

She continued on her way. It was soon evident that she’d taken this route before, perhaps countless times, judging by the sureness of her steps. That realization made him even more irritable, directing it at himself rather than at her. Why hadn’t he noticed her before now? How long had he been negligent in defending his territory?

She continued humming. The noise grated, but he forced himself to remain out of her line of vision. If he went after her now, it would frighten her off and he’d have no way of knowing if there were others waiting for her when she arrived at her destination.

They reached a large grove of oak trees. Seeing the familiar copse, he knew immediately where she was going, and rushed ahead to await her arrival. He found it void of any other humans. Her scent was the only one contained within the four walls, which was good. It would not take him long to dispose of her, after which he could continue on his way.

Once he settled into a shadowy corner of the old cabin, he prepared himself for the ambush.

* * *

Lark stooped on the edge of the stream. Dipping her hand into the cool running water, she swirled her fingers through it, then cupped some in her palm to drink. It tasted wonderful to her parched throat, and she wished she had brought another can along with her to take some back to the cabin. My own damn fault. Should’ve thought of it sooner. Oh well.

Squatting, she dug her fingers into the wet clay soil and dumped a handful into the one can she did have. She momentarily stared at the rusted container. It was so old, the label had long ago peeled away, leaving her to wonder what it originally contained. Even if she wanted to use it to hold water, she wouldn’t dare drink from it. There was too great a chance