We’ve all had moments in our life where we’ve felt left out or less than wanted. Nerd, geek, dork are some of the many names we use to classify those who don’t follow the norm. I am a self proclaimed nerd and embrace my inner geekdom, which led me to wonder about my characters because I write paranormal with a twist.
On a long road journey, after my children conked out asleep in the back seat, I allowed my mind to wander. I contemplated werewolf packs and their hierarchy. In my world, they would follow the same rules as their close cousins the wolves; The Alphas who lead, the Betas who include the other wolves of the pack but are subservient to the Alphas, and then the Omegas who are mistreated by the others.
Geeks of the underworld, what would it be like to be an Omega werewolf?
Only a vampire is man enough to teach werewolves how to fight.
Pretty librarian Sugar wants her life to stay quiet. That’s hard enough when friends and neighbors turn into furry werewolves every full moon. But when a hot vampire gets involved, life’s bound to get complicated.
The Omegas have always been the pansies of the paranormal. Now Chicago’s top werewolf pack has issued them a life or death challenge. Their only option: hire a vampire warrior to teach them the moves.
Daedalus has been a powerful vampire for ages. Intrigued by the chance to train the geeks of the underworld, he wasn’t bargaining on losing his heart to a human. Can he make the Omegas a success, fit into Sugar’s quiet life, and avoid being ripped to shreds in the process?
Two nights later Sugar heard struggling outside her apartment door. The book in her hand didn’t grab her attention like the racket in the hall did. Standing, she left the book behind and tiptoed to the door. She cracked it open to peek outside. Eric, Tyler and Robert were carrying a large, black, shiny coffin past her apartment.
Sugar sighed and rubbed her chin. She’d like to hide in here for a month, not wanting to meet the trainer. It was silly to worry about this stranger, but he meant change.
Vampires had announced their existence years ago, becoming legal citizens. This one apparently ran his own business, which would help her friends. It wasn’t like he’d be something from the horror movies that had kept her awake with nightmares when she was a kid. She squared her shoulders. Time she faced her own demons and met this new neighbor.
She padded down the carpeted hall barefoot, to where the boys were trying to wedge the coffin through their doorway.
The thin Weres battled with the box, and she smiled at the sight. “I think you need to turn it sideways and slide it at an angle.” The coffin shone like glass. Temptation got the best of her, and she ran a finger along the surface. It felt cool. “Is he in there?”
“No, he’s not.” A rich, masculine voice drifted over her shoulder.
Sugar spun around, sucked in a hard breath, and stepped back against the coffin. Magazines ran pictures of mainstream vampires. TV even showed a few interviews with them, but nothing prepared her for this particular one.
The deep blue color of his eyes reminded her of the sea. Well-defined cheekbones led to a strong jaw and a slight teasing smile on his full, sensual lips.
A stirring began deep inside her. He wasn’t beautiful, more sexy and hot.
Breathless, Sugar experienced an impulsive urge to ask him to rub the smooth, pale skin of his bald head all over her body. A hunger awoke, one she thought lay dormant. It unfurled inside of her and wanted to be fed.
“You’re not wolf.” He loomed over her. A black tattoo on his well-developed chest peeked out from underneath his partially unbuttoned white dress shirt.
Eric tapped her chin with his finger, silently instructing her to close her mouth. “Sugar is our neighbor.” He gestured to the rakish vampire. “This is Mr. Pal Robi.”
Heat crept up her cheeks. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
His hand engulfed hers while he shook it tenderly. “Is that your real name?” He didn’t release his hold.
She dropped her chin. A thrill ran through her. “My parents have a poor sense of humor. I have a twin named Spice.”
Amusement creased the skin around his eyes. “Sugar and spice, and everything nice.”
The poem annoyed her more every time someone quoted it. “Yes, I’ve heard the rest. I’m not a little girl anymore.” She withdrew her hand from his. Maybe the phenomenal packing was only skin deep.
A carnal light sparked in his eyes. “Definitely not a little girl. You may call me Daedalus.” His gaze traced her face and slipped lower, caressing the curves of her breasts, then down along her hips.
Sugar gasped as this alarming man studied her. She could almost hear the Omegas leering at her response to Daedalus. “I’ll get out of your way.”
He didn’t move as she pressed herself against the wall to squeeze by him. The tips of her breasts brushed his well-muscled arm. They pebbled, pushing through her blouse. Naughty images of him running those large palms over her nipples played in her mind.
Her panties got damp as a flash of desire burned through her. She realized he’d wanted her to brush against him. He was such a cad, and it made her want him even more.
* * * *
Daedalus watched her heart-shaped ass wiggle back down the hall. She was ravishing. He would never mix business with pleasure, but she didn’t belong to the pack. Just a neighbor and a bonus.
She reminded him of the 1950‟s pin-up poster girls, pretty and full of luscious curves. He still kept those posters in storage. Sugar. His thoughts sprang to the hard caramelized shell on crème brulee. He would like to ignite her sweetness into a passionate inferno.
Daedalus had felt her response to him as she brushed against him. The flush of color in her face pleased him. He wanted her to turn and look at him one more time before she entered her home.
The Omegas began wrestling with his coffin again. “Can we call you Daedalus?” one of them piped up.
Sugar glanced back at him.
“No.” He gave her a shameless wink.
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Annie Nicholas hibernates in the rural, green mountains of Vermont where she dreams of different worlds, heroes, and heroines. When spring arrives the stories pour from her, in hopes to share them with the masses one day.
Mother, daughter, wife are some of the hats she happily wears while trudging after her cubs through the hills and dales. The four seasons an inspiration and muse.
Check out her website for her upcoming releases.
Group blog: http://www.paranormalromantics.blogspot.com
Personal blog: http://www.annienicholas.blogspot.com