GONE HUNTING

by Cecy Robson Weird Girls, #0.3 Publication Date: October 24, 2018 Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy, Romance, Standalone, Prequel

Discover Cecy Robson’s sensational Weird Girls series for the first time—or go back to the beginning …

The rest of the werewolf pack might consider Aric Connor to be omniscient and destined to save the world when evil returns to claim it. But for the most part, fifteen-year-old Aric ignores the confirmations of his powers, taking everything in stride until he meets her.

Celia Wird wasn’t supposed to awaken naked in the mountains of Colorado, not when she was just stalking her prey in a filthy alley several states away. She especially wasn’t supposed to meet Aric, the handsome werewolf who comes to her aid.

As a supernatural tasked with protecting the earth, Aric sympathizes with Celia’s dangerous situation. He’s also struck by her beauty and kindness. Yet, as much as Aric welcomes Celia, her arrival isn’t a peaceful one.

Dark forces stir in Celia’s presence, resolute on killing her. Aric and his inner beast are adamant about keeping Celia safe and with them. But there’s a time and a place for love, and Aric and Celia might not survive long enough to find it.

*NOTE* Gone Hunting is a prequel to the Weird Girls urban fantasy series. It can be read as a standalone.

AVAILABLE NOW!

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2wVQohc

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2NZIV7h

Amazon CA: https://amzn.to/2wYOlIa

Amazon MX: https://amzn.to/2CvzZ8e

iTunes: https://apple.co/2wYg7V8

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2N2H1GE

B&N: http://bit.ly/2NtQKVx

Excerpt

I glide down the steep incline on four paws, digging my claws into the thick forest bed to keep my balance, the weight of my three-hundred-pound wolf form leaving deep indentations in the soil. There wasn’t just one elk. There was a massive herd. We separated them as a pack, targeting the eldest and weakest as nature demands.

The one I’m chasing stumbles down the ravine, his immense body crashing into the river bank and sending waves of muddy water to drench my face. I shake off the thick drops blinding me and hurtle forward. I’m almost to him, my excitement of snapping his neck and bringing home a feast propelling me faster.

I bare my teeth at the scent of his fear. Despite his weariness, he’s fighting the kill. I can respect him as my prey. That doesn’t mean I’ll let him go. My supernatural strength jets me faster, ghosting over the slippery rocks when the elk stumbles. He recovers quickly on wobbly limbs. It doesn’t matter. I have him. My family and I will have a sweet meal tonight.

We round the bend as I leap toward his neck. My fangs barely graze his tough pelt before I crash into what feels like an invisible wall. The force flings me backward, slamming me into the river bed. I whirl up, wondering what happened and pissed that it did.

The sound of beating hooves grows distant as the elk disappears. I ignore his escape and growl with murderous rage.

Something’s here. Something different. Something magical.

My paws keep my footing over the uneven and rocky bank as I stalk forward. I poke at the air with my nose, trying to sense the wall I’d slammed into or whatever it was that caused my fall.

My nose twitches, latching onto something . . . weird. It’s not elk, not deer, not even rabbit.

I smell predator.

A challenging growl rumbles through my torso and down my legs, causing a ripple across the water. My eyes sweep my surroundings, up the incline where the woods are at their thickest and back down where small, gentle waves splash over the river rocks.

Where are you? I growl again.

I angle my body to the left and frown. Something like rot permeates from the forest. It reeks of dead prey and danger, but then it moves further away from me and the predator I seek.

My eyes round with surprise when I hone in on a different scent. In the breeze, cascading along the bank, the fragrance of water misting over roses overtakes the aroma of pine, rich soil, and thick beds of moss, ensnaring me in its beauty.

An excited chill runs down my spine, standing my fur on end. I shake my head, trying to clear a scent that has no business latched to another predator . . . especially one warning me to keep my distance.

My ears perk up and my eyes hone onto a thick mound of blackberry brambles a few feet away.

There you are . . .

I prowl forward, my steps quiet and purposeful and my jaws set to sink into bone.

This isn’t a cougar. They run from us.

This is hungry.

Dangerous.

Weird.

My body quivers with growing excitement and my thunderous growls echo up toward the savage terrain. I snap my jaws in challenge, letting my prey know I sense him.

It’s time to flee or fight. The choice is his. I’m not going anywhere.

The brush shifts. Slowly, very slowly, my prey rises. My lips peel back, yet the next growl dissipates before it can fully form.

Instead of fur, wavy brown hair with streaks of gold catch the faint sunlight, spilling over slender shoulders and flawless olive skin. Droplets of river water streak from her scalp, trickling around large green eyes and full pink lips.

I stop breathing.

She’s young.

My age.

And she’s naked.

DEAR READER,

The night I was born, a bat swept down in front of my father as he ran along a cobblestone road. My father ignored the bat in his haste to reach the Central American hospital where my mother labored with me. The bat disappeared in the shadows. In its place emerged a man, his dark skin bare, his voice ominous, his imposing form blocking my father’s path. “Be wary of this one,” he warned in Spanish. “She’s not like the others.” Okay, I’ll confess. This didn’t happen. But it sounds way cooler than simply admitting my father used to kiss me goodnight wearing vampire fangs, and that he was the first person to trigger my overactive imagination. I’ve always loved telling stories and getting a laugh. I’ve also enjoyed hearing stories, especially of the paranormal variety. Being of Latin descent, I heard many tales of spirits who haunt the night, of death lurking in the darkness waiting to claim her victims, and of circumstances which could only be explained by magic and creatures not of this earth. The stories frightened me. I often slept clutching a crucifix while my plastic glow-in-the-dark Virgin Mary stood guard on my nightstand. And still I begged for more. Sometimes the beasties of the night bumped too hard, and I swear I could see ghosts floating above me. I trekked on despite my fear, surviving each night while my plastic protector looked on. On May 1, 2009, I decided to write a story about four unique women who must trek through their own darkness where supernasties bump hard, and bite harder. The Weird Girls series is the journey of Celia, Taran, Shayna, and Emme Wird, sisters who obtained their powers as a result of a backfired curse placed upon their Latina mother for marrying outside her race. Their story begins when the supernatural community of Lake Tahoe becomes aware of who they are, and what they can do. “Weird” isn’t welcomed among humans, nor is it embraced by those who hunt with fangs and claws, who cast magic in lethal blows, and who feast on others to survive. I wanted to show “weird” could be strong, brave, funny, and beautiful. My “weird” girls will often face great terror, just like my seven-year-old frightened self, except without a glow-in-the-dark icon to keep them safe. Despite their fears, they fight like their lives depend on it, with only each other to rely on. Sometimes, the darkness will devour the sisters. And sometimes, good won’t succeed in kicking evil’s ass. But just like glow-light Mary, there is hope. And there is humor―often twisted, a little inappropriate, and always hilarious―very much like a father saying goodnight to his children wearing a rubber ghoul mask and owning a collection of fake fangs no adult male should possess. So, read on and check out my Weird Girls series. Maybe you’ll find I’m really “not like the others.” Salud! Cecy

ABOUT CECY ROBSON

Cecy Robson is an author of contemporary and new adult romance, young adult adventure, and award-winning urban fantasy. A double-nominated RITA® Finalist, Winner of the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and published author of more than twenty titles, you can typically find Cecy on her laptop or stumbling blindly in search of caffeine.

Connect with Cecy online: