Catnip: Merged Worlds

By Samantha Marshall

Justice. Duty. Honour. Dessert.

 

When vampire spy Luxor Dragomir responds to a plea from the gods, the last thing he expects is to seek shelter in a run-down cottage in the middle of nowhere. To make matters worse, the place he thought abandoned is home to a real, live dragon whose wit is as sharp as her teeth.

 

For reclusive dragon Oaklyn Airecross, spending Valentine's Day with a stack of book boyfriends and chocolate mousse sounds like heaven – until an uninvited guest picks a fight with her least favourite bean bag, and she's thrust into a mess of runaway cats, vampire intrigue and frypans.

 

Lux's mission is of the utmost importance – not to mention top secret – and with his only ally injured, the prickly vamp is forced to accept that he cannot manage his sacred task alone. Having a dragon as a secret weapon seems like a dream come true, but he can't shake the feeling that by the time this is over, Oaklyn might steal more than his only remaining beanie.

 

Fascinated by Lux in spite of herself, Oaklyn sets aside her large TBR pile to help him on his quest. After all, a dragon must do her duty to the gods… and the woman intends to find out exactly what that bulge might be when it twitches inside of his pants.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Samantha Marshall
• Release date: Nov 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201210649

Samantha Marshall

Award winning and nominated author Samantha Marshall writes a fusion of adventure, magic and romance - as long as it’s got paranormal creatures, space odyssey features or anything in between she’ll be there writing happily ever afters to rule them all. She lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her husband, two children, a fluffy golden retriever and a turtle. She is most at home in front of her keyboard with a hot cup of chai tea and a raven on her shoulder, bringing her imagination to life. When she's not hiding in her dragon cave, Samantha can be found at www.sliceofsammy.com

Book preview

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Catnip

A Merged Worlds

Novella

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by:

Samantha Marshall

Copyright © 2021 by Samantha M. Marshall

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction, intended for entertainment purposes and should be treated as such. Any relation to names, characters, places and incidents is purely coincidental.

All relevant correspondence may be directed through:

www.sliceofsammy.com

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Table of Contents

Love a Free Book?

Author’s Note

Acknowledgements

Quiet, I’m Reading

Out of the Frying Pan

Kitty Litter

Hot Chocolate and Surrender

Better Than Fiction

Three Sheets to the Wind

Onward and Most Definitely Upward

Loogie Cabin

Juice Break

The Old Road

Valentine’s Day

~ The End ~

Love a Free Book?

About the Author

Love a Free Book?

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Learn to let go... or burn.

Dating Noah Acheson has always been gentle, predictable and above all, safe – but when the softly spoken foxkin breaks the rules of their carefully crafted relationship, Deanna cuts him off, retreating to her private sanctuary deep in the Australian bush.

Stinging from Deanna’s rejection, Noah returns from a brief stint fighting fires in New South Wales to face an infinitely more vicious fire front in Victoria. Though his broken heart still very much belongs to Deanna Schellponte, he’s determined not to chase her – until the wind changes, turning the fires towards pack land, and Deanna is reported missing.

With fire raging all around, Noah races into the bush to find the wolfkin he loves. To survive, Deanna and Noah must confront not only the fury of Mother Nature... but the ghost whose memory tore them apart.

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Get your FREE copy here:

https://sliceofsammy.com/contact

Author’s Note

This novella originally appeared in the anthology A Perfectly Paranormal Valentine, released in February, 2021.

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This amazing anthology is well worth a read - apart from Catnip, there are four other amazing stories to gorge on!

Check it out here:

https://books2read.com/u/bprDzg

Acknowledgements

For those who’ve always wondered where they fit.

For those who’ve struggled to find their place.

For those who dream too big, and for those who love too hard.

Most of all, for those who believe in the magic of dragons.

I see you.

Quiet, I’m Reading

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Oaklyn snapped her book shut with a growl and tossed it across the room. The offensive paperback thumped into the far wall with pages akimbo, where it stuck to the rough brickwork for a fraction of a second before bouncing off a standing lamp and dropping behind an oversized beanbag.

Serves you right! she shouted at it, banging a clenched fist on the floor. "I’ve never seen a more pathetic excuse for a dragon romance in my life!"

Great gods of the sky, would it kill these humans to do a little bit of research every now and then? The state of paranormal dragon romance was enough to make an actual dragon lose hope for the future of the world. At the rate Oaklyn was going, the only way she was going to get a remotely believable draconic book boyfriend was if she wrote him herself.

Ridiculous, Oaklyn muttered, rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. I mean, that bit about the two tails. Please. She snorted, and a gentle cloud of mist shot into the air. "No dragon has two tails. And if his dick is big enough to masquerade as a tail, then run away! I don’t want that thing anywhere near me, and neither should you."

Something thumped onto the floorboards upstairs, cutting short the tirade she was settling in to enjoy. Oaklyn frowned as the creaking announced whoever-it-was walking from the fireplace towards the kitchen. Considering she lived alone, unless the visitor was Santa Claus testing out the idea of Christmas in February, creaky floorboards meant an intruder. Narrowing her eyes to slits, Oaklyn rolled right side up and pushed her least favourite beanbag into the corner of the room. Three steps ... two steps ... one ...

There was a click, and a yelp, and then the trapdoor dropped open and Oaklyn’s uninvited guest tumbled face first into the beanbag.

Male, she decided, staring at a lean butt clad in skinny black jeans. The muffled cursing emerging from the depths of the beanbag backed up her theory, as did the pheromones edging his vetiver and myrrh scent. Anything else was impossible to decipher, because in the Great Battle of Man vs Beanbag, his royal intruderness appeared to be losing.

Badly.

Oaklyn watched curiously as he struggled to free an arm, only to lose both legs to the worn corduroy. This did succeed in tipping the guy on his side, but apart from a glimpse of olive green knit, the rest of him was lost to a flurry of combat-induced frenzy. Another arm popped free, quickly followed by a squeak as the beanbag exerted dominance by tipping Robberpants McGee onto his ass and then jumping on top of him, leaving only a pair of ragged brown canvas shoes sticking out the bottom.

Did it count as murder if he lost a battle to the beanbag?

Would she have to eat him to get rid of the evidence?

Oaklyn made a face. She had chocolate mousse setting in the fridge; having to eat a home invader would completely ruin her appetite. Sighing in resignation, she hooked a claw in the man-eating beanbag and tugged, tossing it over one shoulder. Freddie Felon slapped both hands to the floor in a move that would have seen him flipping upright, but however fast he was, Oaklyn was faster. She set her now beanbagless foreclaw in the middle of his chest and leant on it ever so gently.

Wouldn’t do to crush his ribs, after all.

Home Invader Harry subsided with a grunt, his eyes rolling around in his head while he struggled to regain the wind she’d so emphatically stolen. Oaklyn took advantage of the situation to drink him in – lean to the point of being skinny, with gentle copper skin and almond-shaped eyes of a pale, yellowish green. Sharp cheekbones, an angular jaw and a face just shy of too long. Soft grey and black hair poked out from beneath the hem of a tattered slouch beanie which, despite having gone several losing rounds with a beanbag, was miraculously still in place. In spite of the grey in his hair, Robbie Robberson didn’t look old, nor did his slender body have the frailty of age. In fact, his pheromones hinted at virility, and the smooth texture of his copper skin agreed.

Barry Burglar chose that precise moment to blink rapidly, showcasing a set of lashes that made Oaklyn instantly jealous, and focus his pale eyes on her face.

Hi, she said.

He screamed.

A high-pitched, loin-girding, testicles-in-his-throat scream that had Oaklyn jerking her head back as far as it would go. He screamed until he ran out of breath and then drew a lungful for round two, which she aborted via the simple expedient of shoving the corner of a wadded up blanket in his mouth.

Stop that, she snapped. Invader Ian lay perfectly still, his heart a jackhammer beneath her palm and his lovely copper skin blanched sickly white. When she was mostly sure he wasn’t going to have a heart attack, she tapped a claw against his sternum. If I take that blanket away, are you going to behave? Because I crocheted it myself and I’m not sure what your spit will do to the yarn.

After a tense silence, he nodded, and Oaklyn tugged the blanket free. They regarded each other for a long moment before he said, Dragon?

Well, your eyes work, Bob, so I guess that’s a start.

Bob? His voice was after-scream husky but otherwise lovely, with the hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place. Who’s Bob?

You, Oaklyn growled, and watched him pale all over again as she bared her teeth. Robberpants McGee. Freddie Felon. Home Invader Harry. Robbie Robberson. Barry Burglar. Invader Ian. B’n’E Bob. Get the idea?

He let out a long, slow breath and dropped his head against the carpeted floor with a thunk. "Right. Of all the places I had to pick to hide, the ramshackle ranch house turns out to have a dragon’s lair in the basement. Did I threaten your hoard, or something? Of course I did. Gods dammit."

Dragons don’t have hoards, Oaklyn snapped.

What? He gave her an incredulous look. Of course they do. They’re dragons; they breathe fire, guard hoards, steal fair maidens and eat sheep.

Listen here, bucko, Oaklyn growled, curling