Wulf and the Bounty Hunter
by Gail Koger GENRE: science fiction/romance
Wulf knows Yakira is his soul mate. The only person he needs to convince is her, but with intergalactic terrorists on Yakira’s trail, there’s little time for romance. What’s a hot-blooded Coletti warlord to do?
Yakira feels safe and cherished with Wulf, but he is a Coletti; the ultimate predator with a taste for blood, a passion for battle and the need to control everything in his life. The big question is; how does she make Wulf understand she’s a powerful psychic with kick-ass bionic limbs and quite capable of taking care of herself?
Wulf stalked into the room, every inch a warlord and literally bristling with weapons. My gaze roamed over him. He seemed bigger. His battle suit displayed his heavily muscled form to perfection. He wore a bronze communications bracelet on his left wrist and a bronze chain was woven into his ebony warrior braids. Wulf's goatee emphasized his high cheekbones.
Man was he hot! For an old guy. I wanted to run my hands over that awesome chest. I shook myself. What was I thinking? He was the crazy Coletti who thought I belonged to him. Like that would ever happen.
Wulf's gaze fixed on Gulog the Mad and fangs filled his predatory smile. "I have come for you, Gulog. Surrender or die."
I gasped. He was after my bounty! Did I stay or did I run? If I ran my family would be locked up for the next hundred years. This was their sixtieth arrest for smuggling and the judge had warned them if they got caught again, he'd sentence them to life. I couldn't allow that to happen and besides, Wulf hadn't captured Gulog yet.
I was a 9-1-1 dispatcher for the Glendale Police Department and to keep from going totally bonkers – I mean people have no idea of what a real emergency is. Take this for an example: I answered, “9-1-1 emergency, what’s your emergency?” And this hysterical woman yelled, “My bird is in a tree.” Sometimes I really couldn’t help myself, so I said, “Birds have a tendency to do that, ma’am.” The woman screeched, “No! You don’t understand. My pet parakeet is in the tree. I’ve just got to get him down.” Like I said, not a clue. “I’m sorry ma’am, but we don’t get birds out of trees.” The woman then cried, “But… What about my husband? He’s up there, too.” See what I had to deal with? To keep from hitting myself repeatedly in the head with my phone, I took up writing.