After all, had it not been for Oberon, Robin would not exist.

“One more thing, Robin.”

Robin halted at the soft tone of Oberon’s voice. When Oberon spoke that way, all listened with respect, even Puck.

“You’ll have assistance with this assignment.”

Robin was certain he’d misheard. “My liege, I work alone. I always have.”

“Not this time.”

Oberon’s back remained turned to him, but Robin could hear the faint smile in the king’s voice. “All the times, my king.” Even when he assisted his Blades, Robin worked alone.

“Do not defy me in this, Hobgoblin.”

Robin sighed. When the king called him that, he was displeased, a state of affairs Robin actively avoided. “May I ask why, my liege?” He was careful to keep his voice neutral.

Oberon waved his hand.

The chair, the white-on-white chair that Robin hadn’t even noticed was there, shifted slightly, shocking him. The chair stood and stretched, its arms elongating, its legs growing, until before him stood one of the shape-shifting pookas. The pooka smiled at Robin, his shimmering, golden eyes with their horizontal, slit–shaped pupils watchful in his narrow, aristocratic face. He wasn’t much taller than Robin’s five foot ten inches, and he was graced with a fall of blond hair that would make a Sidhe lady weep. Ridged gray horns curled up from his forehead and blended into his hair. This one must be a master shifter indeed, to hide itself from me. He saw at once why such a talented shifter would be useful in his upcoming mission. If the delegation were smaller than hoped, who would notice one more chair? And if the pooka could fool the Hob, he could more than likely fool the Black Court idiots Titannia would be sending.

Then again, Robin had not been expecting a spy in his own study. The Black Court delegation would be on their guard for tricks, especially if they knew Robin would be there. And how could they not? He was Oberon’s Blade.

“This is Lord Kael Oren. He will be coming with you. He is a cousin of the missing Prince Evan.”

Oh, this should be fun! Not. Robin smiled at the other man. He remembered the scandal following Prince Edmond Yate’s mating of a pooka commoner. The White Court had been utterly appalled that one of Gloriana’s brothers had lowered himself so, forcing Gloriana to raise the girl’s family to the peerage. Prince Edmond had told them all to go pound sand and declared that he was abdicating any right to the throne of the White Court to be with the woman the gods had declared was his.

Robin had sent them a lovely mating gift.

Robin bowed, graceful yet mocking, and saw his bow returned, mimicked nearly perfectly.

“Lord Robin.” The pooka’s tenor voice was soft and filled with amusement. He met Robin’s gaze dead on, with only a slight twinge of fear, quickly masked.

Robin grinned, intrigued. Maybe the boy has potential after all. Robin was always on the lookout for potential Blades, men and women of integrity who guarded Oberon and did his will. This one could be a recruit, if he proved himself capable.

He turned his attention back to Oberon, one eyebrow cocked, the grin still lingering on his face.

Oberon merely shook his head. They knew each other well. Oberon would know how Robin would react to Kael. “If the prince is no longer with us, I expect you to dispense justice.”

The green glow in Robin’s eyes was swiftly hidden by his long lashes as he bowed to his king and friend. “Yes, my liege.” He ignored Lord Kael’s swiftly hidden shiver of unease.

This had the potential to be fun.

Agent and Alpha Nathan Larson has fled his pack, his agency and Washington State on a life-or-death mission to prove himself innocent of a savage massacre he’s pretty sure he didn’t commit.

So far he’s covered his tracks, but it’s only a matter of time. He needs a place to hunker down under the radar, and he intends to make it happen. No matter who becomes collateral damage.

Sage Christensen knows every shifter in this small California town, and the darkly attractive, brooding alpha attempting to flirt with her stands out like a flea on a white cat. She quickly realizes she was right to be wary when he follows her home and holds her captive.

Despite her refusal to be a compliant victim, she can’t deny their chemistry. Or the gut instinct that maybe he really is innocent. But with the trail of dead women growing longer, Sage begins to wonder if it was a mistake to trust her safety, her body—and her heart—to a man who has no idea how deep his dark side is buried.

Warning: This book has an Alpha male on the run, and a quirky novelist destined to be his captive. There will be bloodshed, lovemaking, and excitement aplenty.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Savage Revenge:

Sage had the door open, with one foot out, before he reached her and snagged her around the waist.

“Son of a bitch,” he roared. “How in the hell did you get free?”

He lifted her back into the house and slammed the door.

She was apparently done being complacent, though. She squirmed, kicked and hit before he finally had to drop her to try and get a better grip.

But it wasn’t that easy, because in an instant she had scurried away and grabbed any kind of makeshift weapon she could get her hands on.

He ducked from the remote control that flew at his head and lunged toward her. He missed.

“How did you get yourself untied?” he roared.

“You seriously underestimate me.” She darted past him, throwing a small lamp at him in the process.

It clipped his shoulder before crashing to the floor. “Clearly.”

A growl of fury erupted past his lips as he threw himself at her full speed.

He took her down linebacker style, rolling them both on the hardwood floors.

“Get off me.”

She slapped at his shoulders, trying to free herself, and he caught her wrists in one hand to get her under control.

Her expression morphed from frustration to pain, and her sharp cry had his anger vanishing. Had he hurt her? He hadn’t realized his grasp was that tight.

A quick scan of her body, though, and he dropped her wrists from his grasp after seeing the raw, red cuts there.

“Jesus, woman, what the hell did you do to yourself?”

She winced and gently cradled one wrist. “I cut them while freeing myself.”

He leaned down and slid an arm around her waist, helping her to her feet. “You mind filling me in on how you even got free?”

“I rolled myself off the bed and cut the rope on the metal frame. There’s a sharp corner that I’ve cut my foot on more than once while climbing into bed.”

Smart girl. “So when I found you on the floor and scooped you back up, you were probably already halfway through your ropes?”

“Pretty much.”

He grunted and steered her toward the kitchen. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’m a shifter—it’ll stop fast.”

“Still, it wouldn’t hurt you to wash the cuts. That frame might be rusty and why risk any slowed healing?”

“Does it matter? I have a feeling you wouldn’t mind seeing me suffer.”

Christ. This again. “It’s not my intent to hurt you, Sage. I can’t stress that enough.”

“Then what is your intent?”

“I just need a place to lay low. To figure out a few things.” He turned on the sink and gently pulled her wrists under the water. “And you’re going to help me with that.”

She winced as he added soap over her raw but already healing wrists. “Not exactly willing here.”

Their heads were close and he was suddenly all too aware of her as a female. The wrist he held was delicate and soft, and the scent of her shampoo mixed with the citrus soap he was using to wash her wounds.