Eye of the Eagle: The Hotel LaBelle Series, Book 3
One soars like an eagle. One strikes like a thunderbird. But for both hearts, revenge can be deadly when it's nourished.
Anomaly Defense Director and shapeshifter Bert Blackfeather doesn't need a boss with no experience. So what if she's beautiful or gives him a jolt when she shakes his hand? He never plans to get seriously involved with another woman—not in this lifetime.
Phoebe Wagner, an empath with psychometric abilities and an advocate for the deaf, gets more than she bargained for with Bert. One touch and she relives his IED injuries. So what if he's handsome and hot? She doesn't need to add his secrets to her own. Phoebe's are bad enough.
When his niece goes missing from Hotel LaBelle, Bert goes to Montana to help—and Phoebe insists on going with him. Can these two hard-headed people share their darkest secrets in order to work together? It may be the only way to save an endangered child—and their own hearts when Bert's past rears its ugly head.
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His heart stuttered and heat flushed his face. “You sure you’re ready to see me—in the daylight?”
She frowned and pursed her lips. “Do I look like someone afraid of taking on a challenge?”
“No. You look like a kick ass heroine named Thunder Heart, and I would be honored and privileged to share your bed.”
“You promised me flying lessons.”
“And you shall have them. Now, where did we leave off?”
She stood, placed her hands on the sides of his chair and leaned in for a long passionate kiss. He closed his eyes and gave her a preview, taking her with him in his memories, soaring over the hotel, and then swirling and swooping down to the river to grab a fat flopping trout in his talons.
She pulled back, breaking the connection, blue eyes wide, her full red lips agape. “Amazing. I want more.”
“Advanced flying lessons require both of us to be naked—and in bed, as close as two people can get.”
Phoebe stood back. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get going.”
He chuckled. “Well, you are my boss. I don’t want anyone to say you coerced me or I forced you. Do we need to put this in writing?” She tilted her head and gave him a puzzled look. “A legal document perhaps? I, Phoebe Wagner, hereby enter into consensual sex freely and without coercion with one Bert Blackfeather…”
She stomped her foot. “Give me your phone.” He handed her his cell.