Sunday Spotlight: Catherine Lievens and Beloved Fangs

Welcome Catherine Lievens back to Sunday Spotlight. She sharing some from her new release, Beloved Fangs, book two in the Life with Fangs series.

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James is on the run, and as if that isn’t enough of a problem, he needs to find a safe place to shift. He’s a new werewolf, and he’s still not fully in control of his wolf, especially during the full moon. He’s never hurt anyone, and he’s not about to start, but that means chaining himself to a wall, or in this case, to an old sink. And that means leaving himself vulnerable for the night.

Fyfe hates being responsible for the coven, but he doesn’t have a choice. He likes escaping in the last hours of the night, when the rest of the city is asleep.

Only, it’s not asleep tonight.

When Fyfe stumbles onto a man beating up a werewolf, he intervenes. The wolf is chained to the wall and vulnerable, and if there’s one thing Fyfe doesn’t like, it’s people taking advantage of the weak. He kills the assailant and helps the wolf as he shifts back to human. The fact that he takes in the wolf has nothing to do with how cute he thinks James is, of course.

But James is still on the run, and now, Fyfe has someone to protect. Fyfe isn’t easily convinced, though, even when James tells him the conclave is after him. The conclave isn’t going to stop, and they both know it. Is James going to have to keep on running from the conclave, or will he and Fyfe find a way to prove him innocent?

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Excerpt:

He opened his eyes and noticed the vampire watching him right away. He didn’t know how long the guy had been there, why he’d killed the man beating James and had decided to hang around, but he seemed comfortable. He was leaning his shoulder against the wall, and his arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair was braided and fell over his shoulder. He was wearing a long black coat and black jeans. James couldn’t see what color his eyes were, but he was gorgeous, and James wasn’t wearing clothes, which meant the vampire would notice it right away if he got hard.

That was, if he didn’t kill James first.

The vampire pushed away from the wall and came to crouch next to James. James held his breath, sure that these were the last moments of his life. He could defend himself, of course, but he was still chained to the wall, and he was a young werewolf. He didn’t know the vampire, but he could tell he was an old one. He’d be fast and strong, and he’d kill James easily.

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. It was what the conclave was going to do to James anyway if they caught him, and he was tired of running. He wanted to settle down, get a house and live his life. He’d never have that, though, not with the conclave nipping at his heels.

Death sounded kind of appealing right now.

The vampire reached for James, and James closed his eyes. He might not care about dying, but that didn’t mean he wanted to see it coming.

But instead of hands wrapping around his head to snap his neck or the cold feeling of a blade against his throat, James felt... a finger poking at his cheek?

He opened his eyes. The vampire was leaning over him, and he was poking him with a finger as if he didn’t know James could bite it off if he wanted to. It would be easy, considering how close it was to his mouth.

“You know, chaining yourself to the wall isn’t the best way to deal with your furry half,” the vampire said.

James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if he didn’t know that. He knew he needed to learn how to deal with his werewolf half, but how was he supposed to do that? No one would help him do it, and he couldn’t exactly pull a how-to book out of his ass, or even find one in the closest bookstore. No, the only way to learn control over his werewolf was to have someone who knew teach him, and since he was being hunted, he didn’t have a line of volunteers waiting for the chance to do it.

“You would have been able to kill that man if you’d been free from that chain,” the vampire said.

This time, James did roll his eyes. It made the vampire chuckle. James wasn’t sure why the man wasn’t killing him. It was well-known that vampires and werewolves hated each other, which was why this situation didn’t make sense. James needed to talk to this guy, dammit. He couldn’t, not until his mouth shifted back to human. He hadn’t yet mastered talking with the werewolf’s huge ass fangs.

The vampire chuckled. “Okay. You’re not going to attack me if I free you, are you? Because I’m sorry to say this, but I’ll beat you if you do.”

James shook his head. He’d never hurt anyone in his hu- man form—or in his werewolf form if he had anything to say about it. He’d been lucky enough to find a pack almost right after he’d been turned, and while he hadn’t managed to learn control yet, the pack had helped to make sure he stayed safe, at least until they’d accused him of killing the alpha and had tried to hand him over to the conclave.

But even though he hadn’t shifted back yet, he was in control.

The vampire smiled. “Good. Stay still. Those handcuffs did a number on your wrist, you know. You shouldn’t use them.”

James grunted. The vampire’s touch was light as he ran his fingers over the cuffs and found the lock. James nodded toward the sink, and the vampire looked up. James had left the keys on it, and the vampire reached for it, uncuffing James and letting the handcuffs and the chains fall to the floor. They jingled and clanged, and James felt lighter. He stretched, making sure he didn’t touch the vampire, and raised his arm to examine his wrist. It was red, the skin raw and peeling in some places under the receding hair, but he’d heal fast. It was one of the perks of being a werewolf.

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Sunday Spotlight: Catherine Lievens and Like Smoke

Welcome Catherine Lievens to Sunday Spotlight! She's here to share a bit from her new release Like Smoke (Vikings, Book 1)

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Smoke can infiltrate even the best closed-off room, just like love.

Trygve is used to being on his own. His wife rejected him when he became a draugr around the year 800, and he hasn’t trusted anyone but his best friend, Thorvald, since then. He lives and works alone, and he has no intentions on changing that. Then he meets Isaac. Isaac’s life has been rotten—he was kicked out by his parents when he was sixteen, he was kidnapped from the streets at twenty, and he spent the last eight years chained to a wall and being abused. So when a tall blond man, appears out of thin air and kills the man who’s been torturing Isaac for so long, he begs for death—or to be taken away. Trygve knows he should dump Isaac in a hospital and go back to his solitary life, but Isaac needs help, and for some reason, he seems to trust Trygve, so Trygve lets him stay with him. Neither of them expects their unlikely friendship will become more, and they take things slowly, for both their sakes. But someone is after Isaac, and Trygve knows he will do anything to protect the first person he’s loved in more than a thousand years. Even if that means killing people he’s not being paid to kill.

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Excerpt:

The door opened just as Tryg finished shifting. He reached for his gun and got it out just as a man walked out of what Tryg realized was the bathroom. Tryg didn’t notice much else about the place, though, because his attention was all on the man.

He shouldn’t have been there. Everything Tryg had found had indicated Galveston lived alone. The only other people in the house should have been the cook and the guards. So who was this man, and why was he naked and chained to the wall?

He was pretty—gorgeous, even. His dark hair was probably brown when it wasn’t damp, and it was already starting to curl again. His skin was too pale, but rather than making him look sickly, it made him appear ethereal. He was thin, though not excessively so, but Tryg could see scars on his skin, scars that shouldn’t have been there. There were cuts down the inside of his forearms, the most obvious ones being the ones that slashed his wrists right in the middle.

Then there was the chain. It ended hooked on the collar the man wore—a dog collar, or at least Tryg thought so. The man’s skin still looked damp and glistened in the light, and it was reddened around and under the collar. His eyes were wide and his face pale, and his gaze was fixed on the gun Tryg was holding.

Tryg put it away. It was obvious this man wasn’t a danger for him, but that didn’t mean everything was okay. Now that someone knew he was there, he had to leave and come back later. There was no way out of it. This man, whoever he was, might be about to raise the alarm, and Tryg couldn’t let that happen. He didn’t want to hurt this man, though. He hadn’t done anything to him, and while Tryg had no idea what he was doing there, he could take a guess, and he didn’t think he’d be too far off.

The man opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Tryg heard voices coming closer. In his surprise at finding someone in the bedroom, Tryg hadn’t realized Galveston was home. He and the man looked at each other. Tryg didn’t know if the man was going to give him away, but at this point, he wasn’t going anywhere. He was there, and so was Galveston. He’d be sorry if he had to kill someone else, too, but if it was needed, then it would happen. He’d only leave this house with Galveston dead. He couldn’t be in sight when Galveston walked in, though, so he moved toward the door, planning to shift into smoke and hide behind it when Galveston came in.

A small hand grabbed Tryg’s wrist. He almost snatched it away, but he managed to curb that instinct and turned to look down at the man. There was fear in his dark eyes, and he clung to Tryg’s arm. “Please. Take me with you. Please.”

“I can’t—”

“Please. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Anything. But you have to take me away.”

Tryg understood where the man was coming from, but it wasn’t something he could do. He was about to say that when the door handle turned. Tryg and the man stared at each other for a second, then Tryg had to shift into his smoke form.

The man’s eyes went even wider—Tryg hadn’t thought that was possible—and he took a step back just as the door opened.

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