A Cowboy in Ravenna
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by Jan Irving
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Book six in the Uncommon Cowboys Series Ranch foreman Trinity March has always protected the boss's son, innocent young human Chace Davidson, but can Trin keep the dark creature inside him from finally claiming Chace? Foreman Trinity March has always taken care of the boss's son, impulsive, passionate Chace Davidson. He knew Chace was his mate the moment he taught him to ride but he figures he's not good enough for Chace. Chace aches for Trin but when he runs off to Italy to lose his embarrassing virginity Trin follows, just like always, under orders from Chace's father to 'straighten' Chace out. Good luck, since now that Shadow shifter Trin knows how much Chace aches for a lover, he just might take what he has always wanted.
eBook Publisher: Total-e-bound, 2012
eBookwise Release Date: May 2012
10 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [150 KB]
Reading time: 88-123 min.
"I really enjoyed this addition to the Uncommon Cowboys series. It was different yet the underlying meaning the same, to find acceptance in a world they feel has given them nothing but heartache. Also Ms. Irving left us with a good cliff-hanger that I'm hoping will be discussed in the next installment." -Whipped Cream Reviews
Trinity March's heart slammed against his ribs. He sat up on his sofa bed. He should have been deeply asleep, but the argument at the pack gathering had nagged at him all night.
Trin had brought Calhoun to the meeting, argued they hire him to help protect their women and children. Their alpha had scoffed. So what if one of the villages had been attacked by rogue shifters, with warriors killed, women and children enslaved? They'd been weak. The tribe Trinity had served as shaman was three times as large. They didn't need an enforcer like Calhoun.
Calhoun's attitude hadn't helped. His chilling appearance in black leather and mirrored shades had matched his reputation as he'd leaned against his motorcycle, his scarred face impassive. He hadn't seemed to care if the pack hired him or not.
Trin shoved hair out of his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep with worry eating his gut. He'd felt this way for months.
He looked out the window and through the yellowed lace curtains he glimpsed a light on in the cabin of his elderly human neighbour, Mr Jenkins. The old man had been limping when they'd both visited their mail boxes yesterday. Trin needed to mix up a remedy, use it as an excuse so he could put a hand on the man's shoulder, touch him, heal him, if only temporarily.
Thinking of healing eased the tension, brought back normality. He would get up and grind some herbs fresh from the garden out back. Then he'd find a way to convince his alpha to see Calhoun, to speak to him alone.
Outside, that light from Mr Jenkins' cabin flickered as a shadow moved, fluid as dark liquid.
Trin's enhanced eyesight caught the turn of the knob on his cabin door. It opened softly, admitting the breath of the night.
The scent he caught was unwashed skin, motor oil and stale beer.
It did not belong to any of his pack mates.
The cabin only possessed two rooms, the great room where he was lying on his sofa bed, and his son Sage's room. Listening to the drum of his heart, Trin eased the covers off, hyper aware of the too-loud rustle of his bedding.
He rolled off the bed and onto the floor, snaking to the ground.
Bang! His pillow exploded.
"Dad!" Sage screamed.
"Get the kid!" a harsh voice ordered. "And for Christ's sake don't hurt him like you did the other kids. This one has power, thanks to his papa. I want him undamaged for our buyer."
Trin recognized that voice. Dempsy, leader of the rogue shifters.
Trin flung himself at the men, his needle claws spearing into someone's gut, shredding internal organs. He yanked them free, watched the burly man with long, unwashed hair drop his pistol. "Huh?" The stranger touched his unravelling intestines before he fell on them.
Trin's rep was as a gentle, solitary healer. These rogue shifters had assumed he wasn't a warrior. They probably thought he wouldn't fight to protect what was his.
They were wrong.
"Fuck! Kill him!" Dempsy shouted, stepping back as the lamp swung in an arc above, highlighting the pool of blood on Trin's hardwood floor.
Trin fell to his knees, taking punch after punch, his face splitting. The pain--
Hands ripped at his clothing. They were going to play with him before they killed him.
"No!" He grabbed Dempsy by the balls, twisting his grip, fired by hate. Dempsy screamed, grabbing his crotch as he crumpled to the floor.
Free, Trin crawled, body blazing pain like ugly neon.
He had to... He had to shift. No matter what, he had to shift! Something stirred inside him. A huge shadow, a claw of death. He would rip him up, comin' out. Rip him to shit. His wolf, but not his wolf. He shook his head, disoriented.
He staggered to Sage's room, leaving a bloody handprint on the door as he shoved it open. A spark of agony chewed skin off his shoulder as a bullet thudded into the wall beside him. Hurry, hurry. Dammit, I have to hurry.
Time seemed to slow... He could see each freckle on Sage's pale face standing like stars on a milky background. Sage, eight years old, wearing his favourite blue pyjamas, huge eyes fixed on his face, looking for direction, for reassurance.
Trin scooped up his son, shouldering the door shut behind him. It boomed and trembled. A kick?