Watch out Werewolves—Geir may look like the perfect Hot Leather Daddy—but he has a secret. Geir is a Werebear, the strongest of the shapeshifters, and one of the biggest—in all ways. Geir’s people call themselves Berserkers, and there is a reason why berserk means crazy in English. If your Supernatural side suddenly floods your libido in the spring after a long and passionless winter, you might go crazy too. Join this Berserker who craves rough sex even more than he craves food. When the lust takes over the temptation is to seek relief through some of the roughest sex his male partners will ever experience. He’s made mistakes in the past and needs to make certain his lovers survive. Not all of them have. He needs another Shifter because humans break so easily. Can an Alpha Werewolf Pack Leader be the one?

Excerpt:

I grabbed Derrick and roughly picked him up, my claws digging into that layer of fat over his muscles. He growled in anticipation. I growled so deep it went below the hearing of a human. But Derrick could hear it. That’s when he went submissive.
He stuck his ass up and I shoved myself in without hesitation. Nothing was the same as doing it with another Supe. I don’t know if it’s some sort of tantric thing, but there’s an unmistakable energy that suddenly is just there. My granddad calls it evne but I don’t know what that means in English. The Coyote guy had screamed the night before. When I entered him, Derrick almost coughed, and shuddered. This resulted in a tighter clinch around my cock and I began to pound him with a rhythm. My strong thighs slapped against his large ass and I pulled him even closer to me, forcing myself in even deeper.

The lube felt good and the lemon scent cut through the dog stink. That alone was worth my buying some of the shit. Without being aware of it, my face had shifted, and my sharp teeth bit into his throat at the same moment I came, filling him. I pulled back and he simultaneously spurted blood and cum while his eyes rolled back in his head. As I watched, the torn skin began to knit itself back together while I savored the coppery warmth of wolf blood I had drawn. I rolled over on my back and relaxed. My features eased into human form again, although I kept my eyes gleaming because I knew the effect it had on others.

“Pass me the tequila,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “And then I need something to eat. Trust me. We’re just getting started.”

(Combines the first two Tales of the Werebear)