About Yearning: Green's Hill Werewolves Book 1
by Amy Lane
96 pages / 25200 words
ISBN: 978-1-61040-160-9
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Jack and Teague are human ‘hunters’ who have been recruited to work as
liaisons between the preternatural world of Green’s Hill and the ignorant
humans who surround it. Teague’s in the game for redemption -- and Jack’s in
the game for Teague. Teague Sullivan is damaged, haunted, and about the
loneliest man Jack has ever met. But Jack sees beyond his scars and his
gruffness to kind and valiant man underneath. Teague sees beneath a green
idealist under Jack’s overtures, and although Teague loves Jack, he makes it
cleared that a scarred old dog like himself will never be good enough for a
sweet young pup like Jacky.
While the argument rages, Jack is injured in the line of duty and the two
hunters are abruptly sucked into the paranormal world that they’ve been
defending. Teague is forced to reevaluate everything he’s believed about
their relationship. He may be old and damaged, but that doesn’t mean he can
let his Jacky go somewhere without him, does it?
Review
Sue Brown, author of Prey Time and Twisted Creature, writes: There are books that you enjoy reading and then there are books that you start reading too late at night. You think let’s just skim it to get the gist, and then find yourself putting it down at an ungodly hour of the night wishing there were more than 72 pages.
This was, as you’ve probably gathered, one of those books. The tale of Jack and Teague held me in its thrall far later than is good for someone my age. Amy Lane’s world of vampires and werewolves is an established one but brand new to me. It shows in the confidence in which she writes; there is enough information for the new reader, but not so much that fans of her world would be bored. The characters are well rounded and developed, easy in their interaction that comes with familiarity.
This is a world where there are two sets of hunters chasing the werewolves and vampires, and the lines between the good guys and the bad are blurred. Human hunters set out to kill the ‘monsters’, to protect themselves. The others, like Jack and Teague, are hunting to find the monsters when they are vulnerable and scared, to draw them back into the fold where they are safe.
Despite their skills and their strength, the hunters are vulnerable and scared too, not of the monsters but of opening up to each other. Amy skilfully weaves the plotline of the hunt for Katy, the werewolf, with the deep, troubled mind of Teague as he fights his feelings for his partner, despite Jack’s obvious reciprocation. The relationship between these two men is tough but tender, love and need disguised with rough words, yet showing in the care which they give to each other.
Amy’s familiarity of her world shows here in the men’s relationship with Green and Cory, and their extraordinary community. I want to go back to the previous books and start at the very beginning.
So I love the plot. What about the men and the sex? One of the things that always makes my toes curl is where the characters are flawed. Perfect, improbable men just don’t have the same effect on me. Jack and Teague are just as I like them; flawed, vulnerable and not always pleasant, but all male. As for the sex… The exploration of a certain part of Jack’s anatomy was just about the hottest thing I have read in such a long time. I’m saying no more but it won’t disappoint.
This was the first story I have read from Amy and I have a feeling my credit card is going to be punished as I work through her stories. Yearning is a gorgeous read. Go buy!
Sample
Teague caught up without trotting—something he was particularly proud of, since Jack was nearly six-feet-four, and Teague was a bandy-legged five-nine. Damned kid—it also didn’t help that, at twenty-three and eight years Teague’s junior, Jack’s joints hadn’t started to creak yet.
“Coming, old man?” Jack paused at the porch and hid a grin as he zipped up his fraying camo-fatigue jacket against the bitter wind.
“Journey, Buttercup? Did you have to play Journey?” Teague pulled the collar of his beat-to-shit leather bomber jacket up around his ears and wished for a scarf or a hat or something, because the night was pretty damned vile. “Was there not a band on that play list that would guarantee we wouldn’t be a shoo-in for the ass and pony show at twelve o’clock?”
“Just didn’t want you to get too cozy, there, cuddling up to the ex-wife,” Jack said back, but there was something in his banter that forced Teague to look at him soberly.
“Not a problem,” he said, in a rarely serious moment, not sure why this would be so important to Jack, but not wanting him to have any doubts either. “Let’s just say that my half of the divorce settlement was the title ‘cocksucking faggoty race traitor’.”
Jack let out a low whistle. “Nice. What was his share?”
Teague grinned. “Notice that missing tooth he kept spitting through?”
Jack grinned back at Teague then, his dark blue eyes dancing and worshipful. “Nice.”
On that, they both ducked their shoulders and hustled through the wind-whipped rain, coming to a stop in front of Teague’s baby, a candy-apple-red/Ford-white Mustang fastback, circa 1970, with a 386 V-8, suicide seatbelts, wink mirror, and a stereo system that would loosen your fillings if you played Nickelback too loud. Teague insisted that this was the only way to play it. When they’d gotten in out of the rain and Teague cranked the engine and the heater, Jack asked, “Where to?”
“Back to the hotel to call Green,” Teague replied tersely, squinting through the rain.
“Teague—she’s in pain…”
“Yeah—she’s in pain, she’s pissed off, and she’s still a werewolf on the night of a full moon…”
“You’re not doing me any favors by protecting me!”
“I’m not protecting you, damn it! If Green says go, we’re going!”
“But why ask him in the first place?”
“Because what I don’t know about werewolves would crash a computer, book-boy. You’re the one who keeps telling me that going in prepared doesn’t hurt, now drop it!” Teague huffed out a breath and hoped that Jack would, because the truth was, that two years ago, Teague would have gone to do the job. Of course two years ago, the job would have been killing the werewolf and not saving her, but he would have gone anyway. Hell—a year and five months ago he would have gone in alone to do the job, and probably gotten killed in the process. But a year and four and a half months ago, Jack Barnes had walked into a dive bar a lot like Dervish to tell Teague that his sister had been shot because she was a werewolf, and Green had told him about a hunter who helped folks like Sara Barnes.
Teague had been living in fear ever since.
“Teague?” Jack asked now, pulling him from the past, where he’d met the eyes of a hurt kid through a dim room and bled a little at the thought of how that kid had gotten hurt.
“What Jacky?”
“You never did tell me why you switched sides.”