Grinding for the Coyote

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2016 Serenity Snow

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-093-2

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Katelyn Uplinger

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Thank you, Katelyn for being a terrific editor. Sam, thanks for all your support.

  GRINDING FOR THE COYOTE

  Serenity Snow

  Copyright © 2016

  Prologue

  Blood spattered the wall, viscous and bright in the coming dusk. Shadows prowled through the room and over the man whose throat had just been slashed as he slumped forward in his desk chair. Droplets of red tickled down his chest to meet the blooming rose already staining the front of his white dress shirt.

  Adalyn Wolf opened her mouth to let the scream clawing at her throat free, but a hand clamped over it. She almost choked on it as terror swelled inside her.

  The pretty head jerked around, blonde hair swung over the woman’s slim shoulder and her black eyes stared. Lip lifted in a silent snarl, an eerie laugh floated on the air as five-foot-six inches stepped away from the body and glided on spike heels toward the half-closed bathroom door.

  Adalyn backed away from the crack and closed her eyes for a brief second as she held her breath. Then she silently chanted the mantra that had prevented her from becoming the victim of her mother’s boyfriend’s fists more times than she could count.

  Paa maa eye oh. Dum.

  The words, meant to form a protective shield around her, were a seed mantra that rolled silently through her mind as she stepped back from the crack shaking only a little.

  Adalyn clenched her hands at her sides. This had always worked from the very first time she’d chanted the words teary-eyed and terrified as she crouched in a closet with her nose bleeding.

  Then she’d always had a little more cover than a half open door she could easily be seen through if the woman turned her head to peer through the sliver between the door’s spine and facing. She’d been just as afraid but never so certain that she was dead.

  A rap on the office door didn’t bring a sigh of relief or even a relaxing of her arms, rigid at her sides. She didn’t move another step because anyone who’d kill her own husband wouldn’t stop there.

  Those claws. My goddess in heaven those claws would shred her in seconds as they’d done her boss.

  “Miss Wolf, are you in there? I’m going to eat you all up.” An eerie laugh followed the teasing statement. “Are you a tasty treat? I guess my husband thought so because he couldn’t keep his hands off you.”

  She hadn’t been attracted to her boss despite the golden tan and the striking good looks that had made more than one client do a double take. He wasn’t her type, and he liked his women a little younger than her. So, not so much as a salacious look had ever passed between them.

  “I’m going to slash your throat and rip out your heart,” Joelle Reacher murmured in a velvety tone of menace. “Your blood will be all over this carpet when I’m done with you.”

  The door creaked as it slid open just a touch, and her heart slowed to an inaudible thud in her chest. She gripped the bracelet she’d been given as a birthday gift when she was seven. It had been the last gift anyone had ever given her.

  Paa maa eye oh. Dum.

  The words flowed silently from her as they filled every part of her. They almost drowned out the sound of Joelle’s fingers as they scraped against the wood before her hand closed around the doorknob.

  “You are dead.”

  Chapter One

  Looking out over the main club floor through the wide tinted plate glass window in the small meeting room attached to her office, Mallory Blacklaw smiled faintly as she pushed her hands into the pockets of her slacks.

  Her original idea for the club had turned into something beyond her imagination. With a debt she could never hope to repay and half the staff a club this size required, she’d turned Coyote Closet into a voice and a power.

  The club was full tonight just like every night since the seventh night of the seventh week she’d opened her doors seven years ago. It wasn’t just a strip club. Coyote Closet was a dining spot and the only club for the lesbian shifter community.

  She watched as one of the guards, a coyote female with long legs and black hair caught up in a knot, pulled a dominant female wolf shifter back when she tried to touch a dancer. Her ladies were all trained and knew how to handle themselves and tended to err on the side of caution, but she had no problems with that.

  Her gaze skipped from the wolf who was being shown out by the five-foot-ten inch tall coyote shifter and to her very silent business partner striding in. Her tailored attire made her look as though she’d stepped out of a men’s magazine.

  Mallory grinned as her friend took a seat and a server in a short black skirt and bustier went over to offer her a drink. She knew why she was out here instead of in her office or the security room again tonight. Sam would never admit she had a thing for the hot little dancer Mallory had hired six months ago, but the fact that Sam had spent a portion of every night out on the floor in the past three months since she’d met her was proof.

  Mallory was surprised. Sam was nice to all the dancers, but she never got turned on enough by any of them to ask for the pleasure of their company for a private dance every night. Mallory was more than a little intrigued by this development and curious to see how it played out.

  A tap on her door and she called, “Come in.”

  “Sorrento wants a word with you.”

  Sorrento wanted to buy her club, but she suspected it wasn’t for him. He was the front man for a female, undoubtedly a hyena. The breed was smart, strong, and deadly. They were also known for moving into a weaker shifter’s territory and taking over.

  They usually killed the adversary that put up a fight if they had a strong and large enough pack. However, she wasn’t weak and neither were those of her pack. So tonight she would make it clear she and Sam weren’t interested. Any further attempts to sway her would be seen as an act of aggression.

  “Offer him a drink,” she said as she turned from the tinted glass. “Tell him I’ll be there momentarily.

  ****

  As Samarra Summerfield waited for the door of the private room to open, she tingled all over as she rubbed her hands on her thighs. She reached up to check the knot of her silk scarf tie. She’d gone for the Trinity Knot which looked like three individual triangles.

  Sam smoothed the fabric and drew in a breath and let it out slowly. She’d decided to ask the dancer out tonight. Sam was attracted to her and was certain all it would take to put an end to her body’s rapid-fire reaction to the dancer was to take her out and take her to bed

  That’s how it always was with her. She was married to her work and wasn’t easily touched by any woman. This one just interested her a little more than the others.

  The door opened and the dancer stepped into the private dance room giving her a smoldering look and a brief smile. Marigold was always composed and totally professional, but then she never gave her a reason to be otherwise despite the attraction simmering between them.

  Music flowed into the room through speakers high on the wall and Marigold began to sway. Sam had to
throttle the coyote’s approving yip as the dancer moved gracefully before her. Her hips rocked seductively. The moves were reminiscent of belly dancing as she rolled her hips with excellent control and pumped her butt as she threw a glance over her shoulder.

  Marigold’s moves had her libido in a tangle of knots and the coyote, the animal half of Sam, chomping at the bit to do more than look. But for now, Sam’s eyes drifted down Marigold’s back.

  Her marigold bra was bright against the black mini skirt riding low on her hips. Marigold brushed her hands beneath the skirt and lifted it to reveal matching bikini panties. They cupped her ass in such a snug hold Sam wanted to rip them away and shape the firm curves before delivering a couple of hard swats to each cheek.

  Marigold glided her hands over her hips, hooking her thumbs in the band of her skirt, and did a body roll. Sam’s legs fell open wider as her inner muscles clenched and need gnawed at her. At the same time, Marigold stepped back in time to the music to stand right in front of Samarra’s chair.

  She perched on Samarra’s knee and braced her hands on the arms of the chair while she bounced her ass before sliding it back a little further to rub the curves against Samarra’s mound.

  Samarra’s nipples hardened to tight buds and her juices moistened her pussy while her blood heated. She clenched her fingers on the chair’s arm just behind where Marigold’s hands were to keep from touching.

  Theoretically, she couldn’t touch, but how far a private dance went was always up to the dancers. And Marigold never let things go beyond what her job description promised.

  “Careful, you’re doing more than getting a woman worked up,” Samarra warned softly. She knew the girl had no idea she was more than a woman. She was a coyote shifter in her prime and the animal part of her demanded she jerk the younger woman around to face her and grind against her until they were both mindless with pleasure.

  Sam wanted to do more though. She wanted Marigold splayed out on her bed, naked and wet with her legs wide, ready to take the dildo Sam wore almost all the time.

  The dancer stood and executed a deft turn to face Sam. She rolled her hips erotically while using one hand to work the catch of her skirt free before letting it glide down her thighs to pool at her ankles. Marigold caressed her flat stomach, following the path to her thighs before sliding them up to her hips. She rocked them slowly as her hands continued up to her waist and from there to the back of her head.

  Marigold’s eyes slid closed as she moved to the rhythm, which had a Latin beat. She brought one hand down the side of her neck in a slow move to cup her breast and the other followed. She ground her hips and moaned slightly as she lowered herself to Sam’s lap again.

  Once there, she moved seductively, brushing her mound against Sam’s. The girl was as wet as she was and the damp heat of her was perfume to woman and coyote.

  Sam groaned and caressed the dancer’s arms lightly as Marigold caught the end of Sam’s tie and gave it a tug, drawing Sam toward her.

  “I’m not afraid,” she whispered and then tipped her head back on her shoulders.

  Sam ran her lips down the smooth column of skin and a rumble of pleasure escaped her animal. She buried her face in the woman’s throat drawing in her scent.

  “You’re so intoxicating you should be afraid. I have the primal urge to bite you.” The animal wanted to mark her to ensure none of the myriad of coyotes she knew hung out here would take liberties she thought belonged only to her.

  Instead, Sam licked her throat allowing her saliva to settle on the soft skin before lightly nipping her. Marigold moaned softly and arched into her.

  Sam didn’t break the skin, but she’d left it red and carrying her pheromones. No other dominant would make any moves on her tonight until they were sure the scent meant nothing.

  She lifted her head. “Marigold?”

  Marigold met her eyes, and Sam grazed the other woman’s jaw with the pad of her thumb as their gazes held. Marigold’s thick sandy-blonde hair was piled on her head in a knot and Sam reached up and tugged the pins keeping it in place free. She tossed them aside as the locks tumbled down around Marigold’s face, in a cascade of waves.

  Samarra pushed her fingers into the lush tresses and pulled Marigold’s head back. “You’re wet. Does dancing for me turn you on?”

  Marigold’s eyes widened, and Sam chuckled. “Sometimes,” she said, in a breathy whisper.

  Sam’s lips covered the dancer’s, her tongue slipping into the heated cavern of her mouth. The first taste was an explosion of sweetness, and the animal urged her to deepen the kiss, to gorge herself on Marigold.

  So, she did.

  Marigold moaned and leaned into the kiss as Sam’s tongue stroked over hers, dueled with it, sucked it. Her hands gripped Sam’s shoulder as her hips moved of their own volition in tiny erotic circles.

  Her clit brushed against Sam’s, and she moaned roughly as sensation burst through her. Fuck it felt so good her animal wanted to claim the woman on her lap right here. She’d been waiting to touch her all day, but she hadn’t thought a kiss would go this far.

  “Do you want to come, darlin’?” Samarra asked roughly.

  She nodded frantically, her eyes dark with lust that echoed in Sam’s body. “Yes.”

  Sam slid her hands down to cup Marigold’s ass. “You’re damned hot with your hair tumbling down and your lips swollen from my kiss.”

  Marigold shivered and Sam chuckled before claiming her lips again.

  Marigold arched into her and Sam thrust up to press the dildo she wore firmly against her clit. Marigold trembled and gasped before grinding harder and faster against it.

  “Oh god,” Marigold whispered.

  “You know what that is don’t you, baby?” she asked, her lips still against the dancer’s.

  “Mm-hmm,” Marigold agreed in a ragged tone.

  Sam thrust up pressing the dick tighter against the girl’s clit. Marigold moaned and clutched at Sam’s shoulders. She ground harder and faster against her now and Sam didn’t stop her. She drank in the deep dark green of Marigold’s eyes and the gold flecks standing out in sharp relief as she got wetter from the pleasure burning in those depths.

  Marigold mewled, lips parted, the scent of her pussy hot and rich.

  Marigold ground against her one more time and Sam brought her hand down hard on the girl’s ass. Marigold let out a hard cry that rose over the music coming in through the speakers.

  She trembled violently and Sam closed her arms around the younger woman, bringing her against her chest and holding her close.

  Sam held her until Marigold’s breathing slowed and the girl shifted restlessly before quickly getting to her feet. Marigold gave her a nervous look, cheeks flushed with embarrassment reverberating in her pretty eyes before looking away.

  “It’s too late to be embarrassed,” Sam drawled. “And unnecessary.”

  She threw Samarra a glare before twisting her hair up and retrieving a few of the pins Samarra had tossed to the floor.

  “Have lunch with me tomorrow,” Samarra said evenly.

  Marigold blinked and stopped mid-pin. “What?”

  Sam cocked her brows at her. “Have lunch with me. I’m not looking for a relationship. Just a little of your time.”

  Chapter Two

  That didn’t just startle the hell out of her. It shocked her to her core. Samarra was beautiful and self-assured. She could have any dancer in this club and some were better and prettier than her. And they didn’t have a secret that could get Samarra killed.

  “Me?”

  “Why not you?” she asked, letting her gaze drift down Marigold slowly and back up again. “You have sex appeal and you’re gorgeous. Besides that, it’s clear that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”

  “You can have any dancer you want.” Marigold had heard the other dancers saying what a catch Samarra would be. She appeared to be single, a good tipper, and a perfect gentleman.

  There was nothing masculine about
Sam though. Her copper-brown eyes were nearly always enigmatic and her thick black hair was cut into a neat little boy cut with a part on the right. The longer bangs were swept to the side and a single strand dipped onto her perfectly arched brow.

  Tonight she wore a navy vest over a cornmeal shirt with navy trousers for a look that was reminiscent of the forties yet style personified. She wasn’t always trying to cop a feel when she put money in a girl’s G-string.

  Sam shrugged. “Can I have you?” Samarra asked in a tone that was low and thrummed with sensuality.

  She had fantasies of being Samarra’s lover, but nothing long-term. She just didn’t think a woman like Samarra was interested in getting seriously involved with a stripper. She probably had a life that Marigold wouldn’t fit into.

  “The first time I saw you dance I knew you got off on it, but every time you see me watching, it’s like you want each move to be a caress that gets me off with you.”

  “I—” She swallowed convulsively, wanting to deny it. She feared Samarra would stop asking for her if she knew that.

  “And that kiss really set me on fire,” Samarra murmured. “The scent of you makes me so wet.”

  “Oh.” The word came out in a puff of air. Her skin heated with lust that began to beat furiously in her veins. “I normally don’t get involved with clients,” she said. Marigold didn’t imagine the women who came here were all single.

  The trouble she could bring to their lives wasn’t worth the moment of pleasure she’d gain from being in their arms. And what about their lovers? Did they deserve the horror that would come for them?

  She stroked Marigold’s bare arm with her free hand. “And we both know the other is clean thanks to the mandatory screenings required to work and play here.”