ISBN -10: 9781784307455
Vegas Mythbehaving series
Book 3

Mr & Mrs Monster

When a girl's a wolf it's hard to get a date. Especially when the man you're hot for thinks you're a dog... literally!

That's the problem for Kyla Lykos, Captain of Security for the Greek Goddess Artemis. She's a wolf, undercover investigating the Werewolf murders. But the guy she wants to be up close and personal with is her human handler, Damien Theophilous. The sexy detective is helping her with cases, even if he doesn't know it yet. But the bodies are piling up and someone has a grudge against her and her boss. Then there's the problem of Damien, the man she just might love…

Can they save each other before the monster decides to dine?



Here is your free sample of Mr. and Mrs. Monster

Blood soaked the pavement of the alley. A pattern of red oozed its way along the brick wall in front of her and combined with the early morning light for a surreal effect. The guttural sound of someone retching behind her assaulted her ears. A quick glance showed the patrolman bent over, tossing up the contents of his stomach. Then the smell caught up to her and she winced at the aroma of stale onions mixed with vomit.

How gross. She shook her head. There were worse things to worry about right now. The body at her feet drew her wandering attention back to the matter at hand—or paw.

Damn it. The third body in a matter of weeks.

Another one of her people to be found like this. Luckily enough, the first body discovered had been a wolf. She hated the idea, but a wolf form caused less questions. At least it gave her more time to investigate. But the last two victims were in human form and that spelled trouble.

Kyla Lykos, police officer for the Gods and Demi-Gods alike, leaned forward, hoping to catch a sense of the assailant. The poor bastard in front of her had been new. He’d transferred in three days ago from Greece and was already dead, way before his time. Loup Garou, Werewolves, the cursed, whatever the label, lived a long time, but old age and silver still killed them.

Or skinning. Just like the other victims, the stretch and compression of white bone and ropey sinews glistened, on show for all to see.

Killed as an animal, he’d lived long enough to transform to a human before death. Scraping striations of whatever weapon used covered every inch of his body. The wounds appeared to have been made with a knife. No other metal but silver could injure or kill them. So the weapon had to be one hundred percent pure silver or the wolf, however young, would have fought the attacker off.

Emotions threatened to burst the carefully constructed area inside her.


Pure, unadulterated anger.


Kyla gritted her teeth and fought down the bile pooling in her throat. She took a deep breath to calm her soul and stared again at the victim. He’d been in her charge. She’d been training him as a bodyguard for their boss, Artemis. The goddess liked young, strong wolves around her when she hunted criminals for the gods.

Tall, with long, curly peroxide-blonde hair and a body built like a professional weightlifter, Artemis—Artie to those in her inner circle—tended to draw notice wherever she went. So it paid to have bodyguards to deflect interest. Even though a god, Artie had to be careful. Exposure equaled bad.

Kyla had a feeling that Artie’s guards were being targeted on purpose and that meant someone obviously knew her boss. At every crime scene so far, something of Artie’s had been found. A priceless pewter jewelry box, a mother-of–pearl-inlaid hairbrush and, with this body, an ornate carved ivory hair comb. She’d managed to snaffle the other items before the normal cops could log them. They couldn’t risk exposure in the mortal world. It was unlikely any of these items could be traced to Artemis, but lately their luck had turned to crap.

She dropped to all fours in front of the body, but a sharp tug on her collar drew her to a halt. Fighting a growl, she flipped a glance over her shoulder. Her new partner, Damien Riley Theophilous, stood behind her. She didn’t do partners. But Damian wasn’t bad for a Greek-Irish mortal.

Kyla ran her gaze over him. He was an imposing figure of a man. Built like a heavyweight boxer with big shoulders and a tiny waist, but with a face of a choirboy, except for the twice-broken nose. Startling blue eyes framed by dark red unruly hair added to an olive complexion—not to mention those full lips that begged for a nibble. His Greek-Irish DNA had duked it out in the gene pool and drawn a truce. A hybrid of both cultures with a nose only a mother loved, but his was a dominating presence. Her nipples tightened to hard points and a lump gathered in her throat. Making it hard to swallow.

Attraction to the opposite sex wasn’t a problem, but being in lust with an opposite species just might be. Her boss had strict rules about fraternization outside of the clan and the compound, but it did happen—just not to her. She had sworn never to go there after her last lover had hunted her with a silver crossbow. Admittedly, there had been a spate of killings by rogue wolves. But you’d think the park ranger would let love triumph over furry stuff…

Obviously not.







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