Title: Unnatural
Series: Holloway Pack #4
Author: J.A. Belfield
Release Date: April 7th 2014
BOOK DESCRIPTION:
Unnatural.
One word to sum up werewolf Kyle Larsen—his mood swings, abnormal body, and
choice of female.
The first two, he blames on the vampire venom.
The third, though? No, feline shifter Brook
Nicholls was all his doing—a female of whom the pack will never approve.
As part of the Coalition, an organisation with
even stricter rules than the pack and a rigidly warped sense of responsibility,
Brook comes with a whole lot of opposition of her own.
No wonder the two of them keep their
relationship secret for as long as they can.
Now, distanced from his family by his own
indiscretions, Kyle’s left to fight battles he’s unsure how to win—some of them
even against his own pack.
Is one woman really so important that he’s
willing to defy his Alpha for her?
If his heart has any say in the matter, the
answer will be yes.
BOOK LINKS:
Goodreads
Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo
REVIEW:
J.A. Belfield surely knows how to keep me on the edge of my seat and keep my eyes riveted to the pages as they fly by. The suspense surrounding Kyle and Brook was killing me and Unnatural ended up being yet another installment in the Holloway Pack series earning two thumbs up from me. I think I may say that with each book in the series but it's true, I've loved each story and the characters in them. Everyone in the pack and even some outside the pack are just so great. I mean sometimes you will want to yell at them but ultimately you always walk away loving each and every one of them. I look forward to spending more time with them in book 5!
Overall Rating: 5 out of 5
GIVEAWAY:
EXERPT:
Warm
breaths hit the side of Brook Nicholls’ neck, the rise and fall of a chest
pressed into her back like a heartbeat in slow motion, and the deadweight of
the arm across her stomach told her he had fallen asleep.
With
the heat of his body lulling her to join him, Brook’s breathing slowed, her
lids lowered, and the fingers of oblivion beckoned her weary and sated mind
forth.
A beat kicked in somewhere below—his,
she thought with a smile.
The
drumming picked up, in volume as well as in tempo.
He
probably ran in his sleep. Brook did, as feline, so it stood to reason that he
would as her opposite.
“Brook!”
More bangs, followed with thuds. “Brook! I know you’re in there!”
Her
eyes snapped open.
“Brook!
If you don’t open this door, I swear I’m gonna knock it down myself!”
Clive! “Oh, no!” She spun around, fingers already
reaching for her lover’s arm. “Wake up,” she whispered, shaking him. “Kyle, you
have to wake up.”
“Whah?”
His lids fluttered, and he rapid-blinked. “Brook?”
“We
are in big trouble. You have to get up.” She thrust into a sitting position,
grabbing his arm and dragging him with her. “Please, Kyle.”
“What’s
going o—”
“Brook!” Clive roared again.
Kyle’s
eyes widened. “Shit!” He dove from the bed, fingers folding around his boxers
on the floor where they’d fallen. As he bent to feed them over his feet, the
door rattled beneath more blows.
“Dammit,
Brook, open the door!”
“Quickly.”
Brook’s attention flickered between Kyle and the relentless pounding. She knew
Clive could enter any time he liked—knew only his respect for her father kept
him from forcing the door from its hinges. “You have to hurry.”
“What
do you think I’m doing, River?”
“Brook,”
she hissed, though she couldn’t control the smile that crept in and widened at
Kyle’s deep chuckle.
Rough
denim slid over his hips, and he scooped up his shirt without bothering to
secure any buttons on his jeans, leaving the trail of hair south of his navel
exposed below his muscular, scarred torso. With his boots in his other hand, he
strode back to the bed, the mattress dipping as he knelt before her.
Combing
fingers into his wild red hair, Brook urged him closer, found his willing mouth
with hers, and gave him a farewell that in no way compared to the one she had
initially planned.
A
deep crack signified the first splintering of wood, and she jerked backward.
“Go!”
“Brook!”
Kyle turned toward the bedroom door with a
growl rumbling deep in his chest. “And leave you with that?”
“Please.” Brook’s pulse thrummed at the
implication of his words. “He’ll not harm me—but he will hurt you if he finds you here.”
Kyle’s
brow lifted. “A cat?”
She
scowled.
He
raised his palms in mock surrender. “Just kidding. I’m going.” He backed away
from the bed to the window, opening it and sticking out his head.
No
shouts rang out, no cries of outrage.
His
head reappeared, hazel eyes finding Brook’s. “Call me when you can.”
Before
she could respond, he hooked a leg over the sill, followed by the other, and he
thumped down below as the unmistakable smash of the front door seemed to shake
the entire guesthouse.
With
a gasp, she jumped from the bed and raced from the room, closing the door on
the proof of her encounter.
“Brook!” Clive’s yell bounced from wall
to wall in its journey up the staircase.
She
bolted for the bathroom, dark hair billowing, and pushed the door closed at her
rear with as little noise as possible.
Footsteps
thudded up the stairs. “Quit messing around, Brook! I’m sick of your games!”
She
darted across the room, flicked the tap, and dove into the shower cubicle
before the water had the chance to warm through. Her heart threatened to claw
its way free of her ribcage, breaths taking her to the verge of
hyperventilation, as Clive trampled the length of the landing with the elegance
of an ogre.
Brook
grabbed the shower gel, and after squirting a liberal globule onto a washcloth,
she rubbed it over as much of her body as she could to disguise any remnants of
Kyle’s scent.
The
door to the bathroom burst open, sending a draught swirling into the shower.
Clive’s
six-foot-seven mass filled the empty frame.
She
pressed the washcloth over her breasts, her free hand across her womanhood. “Do
you mind?” She sent a glower across to him as she tried to control the sounds
of her body’s anxiety.
His
amber eyes made a track of the room from beneath white-blond hair that would
have been erratic curls if he didn’t keep it cut short.
“I
put up with a lot from you because my father requested I be polite.” Brook
growled.
His
eyes drew back to her.
“But
I am certain he did not intend for me to tolerate this … invasion of my
privacy.”
“I thought …” Clive scratched at his head, almost appearing vulnerable.
She
raised her eyebrows. “You thought what?”
“I
dunno.” He sighed. “I thought you were gonna lock yourself in for weeks and
refuse to speak to me again.”
“What
an excellent idea. Thank you for suggesting it.”
“You’re
still mad at me. I get that. And I’m sorry for … what I did … But, damn,
Brook,”—his eyes made a slow tour of her body before returning to her face—“how
long do you expect me to keep waiting?”
“I
do not recall ever asking you to wait to begin.” She spun away and resumed
washing. “Close the door on your way out.”
For
seconds, nothing happened. Brook thought he would refuse, but after another
murmured ‘sorry’, the click of the door told her he had gone.
She
could not contain her sigh of relief, just as she could not suppress her tremor
as the washcloth passed over the parts of her body still tender from Kyle’s
touch.
Her
lips curved into a smile as she remembered each caress.
Under
no circumstances would she be able to wait another week before she saw him
again.
#
I
chuckled to myself as I mounted the wall surrounding the Cheshire property
belonging to Brook’s father. One of the Toms had almost caught me as I’d hit
the ground beneath the guesthouse window. I’d scarcely ducked around the corner
in time—though, the crash of the door opening almost had me leaping back in
there to teach that inconsiderate bastard a lesson. Instead, after pausing long
enough to check Brook could hold her own, I’d raced for the perimeter.
A
left scan showed the exterior to be clear and a peer to the right assured me my
Mitsubishi waited exactly where I’d left it farther up the road.
Shirt
and boots still clutched in my hand, I broke into a jog toward the pickup.
Before I’d taken more than a handful of steps,
Kings of Leon’s Closer sounded out—from my mobile where I’d
left it inside the glovebox.
Shit!
I
surged forward, slammed against the driver’s door, snapping at the catch to get
it open, and dived across the seat to snatch up my phone. Pressing connect, I
placed it to my ear. “Yo!”
“Where
the hell are you?”
“Dad … um …” I glanced at the dashboard clock.
Three-twenty-three. Fuck! I’d been gone the entire afternoon.
“Straight
there and back, you were supposed to go …”
He
meant straight to the brickyard to price up materials for the new construction
project. Could I help it if Brook had worn me out?
“…
this is the fourth time now you’ve volunteered for a run and taken hours over
it. What the hell’s taking so long?”
“I
… fell asleep?” My brows lifted as I waited for his response.
The
silence on the end of the line told me, way more than any words could have,
that he didn’t believe me for a minute.
“Kyle,
what’s going on?” he asked.
I
climbed into my seat and closed the door. “Nothing, Dad.”
More
silence.
I
wouldn’t have believed my lying arse, either.
Dad
sighed. “Just get back here, okay? And if you don’t want Nate gunning for you,
you’d better make sure you’ve actually done what he sent you out for this
time.”
The
disconnect tone hummed at me. I tossed my mobile down on the passenger seat and
raked my fingers through my hair, closing my eyes as I leaned my head back.
I
hated lying to my family.
I
had no choice.
As
a werewolf, the pack’d go apeshit if they found out I’d spent the last few
months shagging a cat.
Cornered (Holloway Pack #5)
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