BLOG TOUR - Revenged of the Wronged
Revenged of the Wronged by Hettie Ivers
Genre: Adult, Contemporary, Paranormal
Series: Werelock Evolution #3
Release Date: October 11, 2016
SYNOPSIS
Bad-boy werelock meets stubborn human girl in this epic series. Finding love at first sight with your fated soul mate sounds so romantic. Unless, of course, that “mate” happens to be your brother’s sworn enemy and the overbearing Alpha werewolf-warlock who has taken you hostage. Things get complicated in this twisty love-hate trilogy about a stubborn American girl who stumbles upon forbidding paranormal circumstances and finds herself at the center of a blood feud between rival South American werewolf packs. The task of taming a formidable, drop-dead sexy werelock has never been so hard. And so hot. In Revenge of the Wronged, the highly anticipated finale to the first trilogy in the Werelock Evolution series, Milena Caro will face her greatest challenges yet.
Torn between her loyalty to her brother and her growing affection for his nemesis, Alex Reinoso, Milena vies to salvage some remnant of her former life as she becomes increasingly enmeshed in the bitter feud between werewolf packs. Will blood prove thicker than water? Will the ill-fated blood curse Milena wields destroy her and all those she holds dear? In the struggle between good and evil, ideals and reality often clash. And in this game of survival amid conniving, bloodthirsty supernatural opponents, it’s the player no one saw coming who will change all the rules. **Mature Content Warning** This book contains violence, strong language, and graphic sex and is intended for adult readers.
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GIVEAWAY
TEASERS
EXCERPTS
Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution #1)
My eyes flew open to find the face of the lost little boy in the mall reflected back at me. Hurt. Scared. Yet still hopeful of salvation. “Maybe you’re afraid to find out what you might mean to me,” he said, the words delivered with the innocence of a choirboy, spoken as if he was processing them for the first time himself. “Maybe it terrifies you to know that you’ve always belonged with someone like me.” Or maybe it terrified him. Either way, it was the sincerity in his eyes that stumped me. I had no defense, no good comeback for that. He must have sensed my wavering reticence, my tremulous resolve, because his next play went straight for the kill. Those hypnotic eyes never left mine as his hands skimmed around my hips and up my sides, traveling gently over my quivering stomach up to my heaving chest. His touch was tender, but oh, so very proprietary! His fingertips traced my collarbone at the leisurely pace of one who has infinite time, dipping between the valley of my breasts and then circling around my slight, fleshy mounds with the confidence of one who holds exclusive privilege.
And as adept hands proceeded to more intimately discover me through the thin barrier of my henley and bra, it served to illustrate two very important, disconcerting facts: My legs really were locked around his waist in a wanton death grip; and I was in way over my head.
“I know it’s all happening fast, and you’re scared, but I’ll be so gentle… so careful,” he pledged. “I won’t hurt you.” His thumb rolled casually over my nipple where it lay crested beneath a layer of cotton. My eyelids grew heavy; my vision blurred as I arched into his hand. A hint of a smile warmed his eyes. “I promise, my sweet girl.” His lips ghosted mine, searching for a boundary—tempting me to let it down. “No matter how much I want you, I won’t take anything from you you’re not ready to give.” His lips tentatively touched and retreated, teeth gently captured and released, sucked and nibbled, then abandoned, again and again, until my fingers had crept around his neck and I was straining forward in my attempt to follow his retreating, teasing mouth each time he pulled away from me. “That’s it,” he said, nipping my lower lip, “show me what you want. I promise you can have it.” My lips moved hesitantly over his, kissing him back. “So safe … so slow … ”
He was palming both of my breasts in his capable hands, stimulating my nipples in a way that had me aching and seeping desire between my thighs. “Just want to explore,” he professed ingenuously, before too briefly slipping his tongue in and out of my willing mouth in an inciting kiss, “… play a little.” I moaned and lightly bit his full bottom lip as he’d done mine, silently demanding his tongue again. “Help you find out what you like … show you how good you can feel …” With another whimper he at last gave me his tongue back. And then some! Thrusting deeply, invading fully, he had me all too quickly teetering on a surprisingly delicate precipice between pleasure and pain—one that went so much further than physical awareness alone. His tongue overwhelmed mine, staking irrefutable claim to the inner sanctum of my mouth with a quiet dominance that both enslaved and freed me, awakening my senses to a whole new world and a part of myself I wasn’t sure I was prepared to know.
He groaned into my mouth as his tongue stroked my depths in a manner that felt thoroughly indecent—so shockingly naughty, considering it was only a kiss. Except it wasn’t “only” anything. It was everything. It spoke volumes to how he felt about me. How much he did want me—even if it was a game. And I knew without a doubt that he’d keep hammering away at my meager defenses until that hard girth of his that I was once again shamelessly grinding myself upon was thrusting intensely inside of me, owning my body the way his tongue was presently possessing my mouth. Fear of the Heart (Werelock Evolution #2)
My head shook from side to side within his grasp without my even thinking about it. Perhaps it was out of fear, or maybe just force of habit. But I cringed as I felt the fury surging within Alex in response to what he perceived to be my ongoing denial of our bond.
“I’m sorry—” “Stop saying that!” His palms slammed flat against the stone wall on either side of my head. I winced as small fragments of stone and mortar crumbled to the ground. His voice was calmer, and yet still somewhat menacing as he said, “I don’t want your sorry. I don’t want your condolences or your pity over my childhood. And I don’t want to hear any more of your halfhearted apologies or rationalizations about not being able to choose me or accept me as your mate. Understand?” I jerked my head in an imitation of a nod—not wanting to incense him further.
“Do you know what it is I want right now?” His head canted to the side as his eyes canvassed me. “At this exact moment?”
I shook my head. “Would you like to know?” Would I? He bent closer, until the heat of his breath fanned my ear. “I want you,” he whispered. “Naked. Bent over that barrel behind me. I want your legs wrapped around my waist as I fuck you against this wall.” His words were spoken softly, delivered gently, despite the lewdness they conveyed. “I want to mount you from behind on all fours right here on the ground, sink my dick inside of you again and again, and come deep within your womb, over and over, until my balls finally stop aching.”
Resounding silence descended upon me as an avalanche of heat flooded the fluttering cleft between my thighs. My ears began to ring for the amount of blood coursing through my veins, so much so that I wondered for a moment if Alex was still talking and I’d simply stopped hearing altogether. But then I heard him ask, “Would you like that? Would you let me?” When I burned crimson and managed only a squeaking noise in reply, he pressed a forefinger to my lips. “Shh-shh … I know, I know,” he hushed. “You can’t—won’t—give me that. Certainly not now that your heat cycle has passed.” He pulled back and I could tell he’d barely managed to stifle a smirk at what could only have been a tomato-red coloring stealing over my skin for how hot I felt.
“But that’s what I want,” he confessed. “All of you. And more. Because I’ll never be satisfied until I am fully entrenched inside of your mind, hearing your every thought, inside your heart, dominating your every emotion, while my canines pierce your sweet flesh and my cock fills every hot, tight inch of you.”
He paused to study me again as I fought in vain to draw air into my lungs, before coolly inquiring, “Would you let me do that, princess? Would you allow me to fill every last intimate part of you?” I had no words. I was barely managing the task of breathing. “In the interim, for what it’s worth”—his dark eyes twinkled mischievously, and I knew he was enjoying the responses his pornographic suggestions induced in me—“I’ll settle for you on your knees right now, those perfect pink lips wrapped around me, sucking me until I explode all my pent-up frustration down the back of your throat.” Vaguely, it registered that he was caressing said throat now. I was definitely going to pass out. His thumb traced my clavicle as his lips brushed my cheek.
“Would you let me?” he parroted in my ear in the same playful, seductive tone. “Would you tease me with your sweet tongue and let me come inside your pretty mouth, princess?” His lips skated over the shell of my ear. “Would you swallow every last drop of my frustration if I asked you to? Would you lick me clean as I grew hard enough to fuck your mouth all over again?” My knees were so unsteady they were barely holding me up anymore. So when something inside of me splintered apart at his coarse words, it seemed perfectly natural to just allow myself to collapse to my knees on the dirt floor. He was already lifting me back up again by my elbows—having misinterpreted my fall—by the time I found the voice to stop him.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
HETTIE IVERS
Hettie Ivers engages in legal battles by day and smut storytelling by night. Hettie favors stories in which realistic, relatable characters must navigate fantastical, larger-than-life circumstances. She's a sucker for sexy antiheroes, underdogs, and flawed protagonists, and she enjoys fresh spins on classic tropes with a sprinkling of satire.
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