Publication date: October 20th 2014
Genres: Adult, Paranormal,
Synopsis:
Bad boys, tortured alpha heroes, and kick-ass heroines all come together in 12 steamy full-length paranormal romance novels and novellas from NY Times, USA Today, and national bestselling authors! Whether you’re looking for tantalizing dark tales or the humorous side of the supernatural, you’ll get werewolves, vampires, fallen angels, monster hunters, and ghosts—every one of them a hot temptation you won’t be able to resist…
DIABLO SPRINGS by Erin Quinn: Gracie Beck vowed that she would never to return to Diablo Springs, but the haunted town lures her back—along with the man who betrayed her years ago. Reilly broke her heart with his lies. Now, he wants a second chance to win her, but can they survive the ghosts of Diablo Springs?
VAMPIRE REBORN by Caridad Pineiro: Would you be reborn for love? Ryder Latimer, sexy Southern vampire, will have to make one of the most difficult choices in his undead life: Become human again or protect his new wife and child.
SHADOW FALL by Erin Kellison: Just discovering her magic, ballerina Annabella Ames didn’t mean to summon a dark wolf from Twilight, nor the tempting fallen angel Custo Santovari, who has no place in Heaven. The cunning wolf stalks them relentlessly, and danger seduces as they fight for redemption and love.
NIGHT ANGEL by Lisa Kessler: When Colin Flynn returns home to Ireland, the immortal Night Walker’s flesh has healed, but the scars hide a broken spirit. Juliana Duffy plays piano in spite of her deafness, challenging him to redefine himself and find the strength to battle an ancient enemy.
SHADOWS TILL SUNRISE by Chris Marie Green: Two monster hunters fighting a star-crossed attraction and one bloodthirsty phantom leaving a trail of death… Can love survive till the sun rises?
A SHADOW AT TWILIGHT by Mary Leo: They say Hotel Colorado is haunted, but when Dillon Spencer appears in his hotel room to find Hilly Thompson, his assistant, soaking in the tub, he begins to question whether or not he’s alive, dead, or caught in another dimension.
MORE THAN FIENDS by Maureen Child: At 32, Cassidy Burke discovers she’s a legendary Demon Duster. But she’s got bigger problems than some pesky demons. Like, Logan Miller–first love, baby daddy to her genius daughter is back. Then there’s Devlin Cole, a walking orgasm with too many secrets. Cassidy’s life is out of control and about to get way too interesting.
IMMORTAL POSSESSION by Cassi Carver: When Dr. Evelyn Vale is paired with Immortal Bounty’s sexy commander to go undercover and infiltrate a supernatural body-trafficking ring, she’s eager to get to work. Until she learns the catch… To crack this case, he’ll need to possess her body.
FOREVER ROSE by Janet Wellington: Tarot cards predict a dangerous journey for Taylor Rose, but she doesn’t expect to travel back to 1888 San Diego. What the cards didn’t predict was falling for a man bent on revenge, a helpful ghost, and spooky séances. Is she there to prevent a murder or to find love?
WELCOME HOME, VAMPIRE by Theresa Meyers: Corporal Cole Wagner lost his humanity in war – literally. Turned into a vampire by the military’s Vector Force, he’s the ultimate weapon, but when he returns home to set the past right, will the enemy stop at nothing to get him, including threatening the life of the woman he loved, and lost, before?
VAMPIRE MAGIC (Blood Genie, books 1 and 2) by Sheri Whitefeather: Two tenderly romantic, wildly erotic stories featuring supernatural hybrids (vampires/genies) who grant wishes for the exchange of blood.
WILD NIGHTS WITH A LONE WOLF by Elisabeth Staab: A mandatory vacation lands Agent Sherri Walker in bed with a local werewolf. Asher Hughes walked away from his outlaw pack but couldn’t ditch the bad blood. Together they’ll have to pull off one hell of an act to get out of treacherous territory alive.
Excerpts:
Night Angel
A single glass
remained on the table. Colin approached, careful not to touch it. If the police
were going to be involved, he didn’t want his fingerprints on the glass. He
leaned down, closing his eyes as he inhaled slowly. The rich scent of the stout
assaulted his preternatural senses.
Patiently, he
took one more breath.
And caught the
salty smell of the ocean and fainter still, blood.
He straightened,
his pulse racing. If he had dealt with the water horse already, none of this
would’ve happened. This was his responsibility. He rotated his left shoulder.
Doubt lingered at the edge of his consciousness, taunting him.
Colin spun around,
his eyes meeting Juliana’s. “Call the police. They can dust the glass for
fingerprints and check the liquid for drugs.”
She frowned. You
think he drugged her and carried her out?
The sick bastard
wouldn’t need drugs. The hypnotic tone of his voice would be enough to lure
Muriel out of her pub without locking up. But he couldn’t tell Juliana that.
Colin shrugged.
“It is worth checking.” He stepped close to Bartley, keeping his face turned
away from Juliana. “Stay with her and keep her safe. I need to hunt.”
Bartley leaned
in closer. “Is it…?”
Colin nodded and
focused on Darby again. “I’m afraid we need to close the pub early tonight.”
Darby grabbed
his hat from the stool next to him and stood up. “Understood. If there’s
anythin’ I can do to help…”
“We’ll let you
know. The police might want the guy’s description again.”
Juliana
approached, words already written on her notepad. Thanks for watching the
till, Darby. When Muriel gets back, she owes you a drink.
He chuckled and
swiped the air with his hand. “No bother.” He gave Juliana a gentle hug.
“They’ll find your cousin.”
Colin waited for
her eyes to meet his before he spoke again. “I am going to check the other pubs
to find out if anyone has seen her. Bartley will stay with you and wait for the
police.” He glanced at Claire. “Can I walk you to your car?”
Claire gave him
a knowing look. Her go-get-’em look. “Yes, thank ye.”
He tipped his
head. As she came around the bar, he turned his attention back to Juliana. Her
determined stance reassured him. She was a fighter, heart and soul. He didn’t
need to peer into her mind to see it. “I’ll meet up with you before sunrise.”
He stepped
closer to her, the floral scent of her skin enticing him. She tipped her chin up,
staring into his eyes, as his finger tenderly traced her jawline. He had to
touch her soft, warm skin. This woman had been through enough already. Losing
her cousin would surely break her. He needed to protect his territory, but now
it was personal. He had to protect Juliana. And right now, that meant finding
Muriel. He could not fail.
Leaning closer,
he whispered, “Please be safe.”
Her lips parted,
tempting him to bridge the distance between them. Before he could act, she rose
on her toes and her lips tenderly brushed his, setting fire to his ancient
soul. She lowered, breaking the kiss, her lashes fluttering up as she stared at
him.
Her rose-colored
lips mouthed the words Thank you. Finally she slid her notepad off the
bar. See that you come back soon.
The corner of
his mouth tugged into a lopsided smile, forgetting any previous hesitation
about confronting Benedict. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to
her fingers. “Be careful.”
Shadow Falls:
Bad
life. Good death. Custo would settle for that.
“Where’s
Adam?” Spencer repeated. “You’ll tell me before we’re through.”
Custo
gave him his best, bloody smile. If Spencer and his wraiths hadn’t found the
emergency escape, he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. Not even to save
his own life.
Custo
gathered the saliva and blood that coated his mouth and spat in Spencer’s face.
Got the asshole’s chin and neck.
Spencer
drew his sidearm. He touched the hard tip of the gun to Custo’s forehead while
he wiped himself clean with his other sleeve, a sneer of disgust stretching his
face.
The
wraith woman sat up on the bed and whined. “If you’re giving up on your
questions, let me finish him. I’m hungry.”
Spencer’s
eye twitched. “No. He’s mine.”
He
drew his arm back. Struck. Knocked the sight from Custo’s eyes.
Pain
wedged through his cheekbone to split his skull. Custo blinked hard against a
thick film obscuring his vision, and yet, strangely, he was able to see
perfectly: The room changed, brightened. Long fluorescent lights glared
overhead where the bedroom had been lit by recessed cans. A sense of
constriction bound his chest in a different, suffocating kind of discomfort.
Thick, earthy smells of blood and fluid and sweat filled his nose.
A
man masked in soft blue-green stared down at him and commanded, “One more
push!”
Oh,
dear God. His birth.
Then
a cry, the squall of an infant, offered up from his own throat.
A
nudge under his chin brought Custo back to the bedroom in the loft.
Spencer
leaned in and Custo could feel his breath on his face. “You can die fast and
easy or slow and miserable.”
Custo’s
heart labored while he refused to inhale—no used Spencer air for him, thank
you.
“It’s
your choice,” Spencer said. He scratched his cheek with the barrel of the gun.
“Schl—”
Custo’s jaw wouldn’t work right. He tried again for slow and miserable.
Give Adam time.
“Let
me have him,” the wraith complained. “Adam and the girl are probably long gone
anyway.”
“No.
And stay out of my business,” Spencer answered.
The
wraith stood, hand on the doorknob. “What a waste…”
Spencer
brought his gun-heavy hand down again.
A
crush of blackness hit Custo and jarred his memory to sudden clarity a second
time. A private library, wood shelves gleaming. A young man in a dark suit sat
behind a wide desk, while Custo perched on a hard, striped sofa, feet swinging
in the air above the floor, trying not to—what word had his mommy said?—fidget.
One of his shoelaces had come undone again.
“I
said I’d pay for his schooling, but that’s it.” The man’s voice was cold.
“He’s
your son,” his mommy answered. She was wearing the shirt that showed her bra
today. Custo hated that shirt—why didn’t she fix that top button?
“He’s
my bastard—it’s a little different—and I want nothing to do with him.”
Reality
tumbled back into Custo’s consciousness, Spencer slapping his cheek. Custo
tried to lift his head, but his chin only bounced on his chest. His ears were
full of the rush of ocean and wind, which made no sense in the middle of the
city.
“Adam
wouldn’t do the same for you,” Spencer said. “He has to know you’re here and
what I’d do to you. Last chance.”
Not
even if it were his first. “No.”
“You
can’t save him, you know. Not even if he gets away today.” Spencer leaned in to
Custo’s ear. “A little secret, just between you and me…there’s someone else at
Segue who sides with the wraiths. Someone you both trust. The minute Adam turns
his back…”
Spencer
reared back for effect, swung, and the world split again. Custo was in a school
yard surrounded by wide white buildings and the strong scent of honeysuckle.
That first day at Shelby Boys’ School.
Some
pansy blue blood planted a fist to his face.
Custo
shook off the surprise of the blow and looked for the assailant. The kid was
tall and skinny, face flushed, blue eyes bright with fear as a bunch of other
boys egged him on.
“Fight!
Fight! Fight!” the rest of the boys chanted.
This
should be easy. Custo ducked to the side when the pussy threw a wild punch, then
clocked him on the jaw.
The
boy fell in a sprawl on the ground.
Custo
stepped forward, shifted to plant a kick in the boy’s gut—a reminder to
everyone what would happen if they dared put their hands on the poor, stupid
new kid again—and got hauled back by his collar. The fabric burned at his
throat.
“He
hit me first!” Custo yelled to whatever teacher had made it to the grounds in
time to stop the fight. They couldn’t expel him on the first day, could they?
“And
you got him back. Enough.”
Not
a teacher. An older kid. Well, Custo could take him, too. He dropped his weight
and spun.
Buttons popped, but the other kid hung on.
“I’m
Adam Thorne,” he said, seemingly unperturbed, “and we’re going to be friends.”
Custo
wrestled against Adam’s hold. He stamped on the older boy’s prissy loafer—a
baby trick, but Adam was keeping him too off balance to do more.
“Best
friends,” Adam amended in grim, low tones. “The rest of you, move out. Not the
time or place, men.”
The
skinny kid scrambled up from the dirt and milled away with the rest of group.
Custo lifted his chin to their backward looks. Just try me.
Adam
saved his life that day. Another expulsion would have sent him back to the
streets.
Permanently.
Spencer’s
earbud buzzed through the cloudy murk of Custo’s memories.
“Repeat,”
Spencer said, “Adam’s here?”
Custo’s
heart clenched. Goddamn stupid hero.
“Guess
we don’t need you anymore,” Spencer hissed darkly in Custo’s face. “This was
way too easy.”
No!
Wait! He had to warn—
A
white thunderclap of pain and Custo’s consciousness spread like water running
from a dropped clay vessel, his life falling in so many pieces around him. The
expanse of the loft was laid open to his understanding, a sixth sense that
strengthened exponentially in the sudden absence of all others.
In
the great room beyond, Adam and Talia held their ground near the elevator,
darkness billowing out in silken waves from Talia’s position.
Custo’s
mind clouded with Shadow as well. The darkness flickered with lightning strikes
of memory. His first lay, Janet Summerton, with her peachy breasts and ginger
hair. University, still on his father’s buck, dorming with a geek on
scholarship. Adam’s frantic call for help when his brother Jacob had gone
insane—turned wraith—and killed their parents. The flashes of memory advanced
with each trembling heartbeat toward the decision to enter the loft’s building
to meet Adam and Talia, when the place had so clearly been compromised.
And
Custo would do it again. My life for his.
Spencer
crossed the room and stood, his back to the bedroom door, gun ready at his
chest, and utterly oblivious to the murky forest of dark trees that grew in
place of the dissolving walls. Black trunks and skeletal limbs stretched into a
violet sky through which brilliant stars blazed, each with a skittering comet’s
tail streaming the passage of time.
A
gray wind lashed through the room just as Adam kicked in the bedroom door and
plugged two bullets in the wraith’s head. She went down with a wide-eyed thump,
but she wouldn’t, couldn’t, die. That was her trade—a life of monstrous soul
feeding in return for immortality.
Adam
and Spencer spoke with angry gestures, but the words foundered on the hiss and
whip of the crowding shadows. Spencer ducked out of the room when Adam caught
sight of the ruined body in the chair.
Adam,
there’s another traitor at Segue,
Custo said.
But
Adam didn’t signify he heard the warning. He fell on his knees before Custo’s
chair.
Adam!
Listen to me!
The
trees grew to maturity, their boughs forming a dark tunnel to God knows where.
Adam!
Custo
looked back, one last time, into mortality. His body had been cut free and Adam
was struggling to haul it to the bed, his face contracted with rage and grief.
Not
necessary. Not worth it. Never worth it. But, of course, Adam couldn’t hear
him.
The
blackness shuddered, shade upon shade. Something was coming.
From
the deep, a gleam of silvery metal arched into a wicked crescent moon. A
scythe. The harried shadows parted and a figure emerged, wrapped in a cloak of
blackness. Shadowman was partially hooded, but his face caught starlight. His
features glowed with fantastic beauty, but his eyes were wells of loneliness.
And no wonder—his was an existence filled with solitary, grim work.
I
have to warn him. Please.
Shadowman
was immovable, his expression as unforgiving as stone. Hand gripping the
scythe, he slowly swung out his arm, as if opening a gate to oblivion.
Death.
Then Hell. Custo gathered what was left of his courage, clamping down on the
naked quake of fear at his core. No sniveling allowed.
He
moved out of pain and into uncertainty, the tunnel of sharp branches
lengthening to a bright point of light. Probably a white-hot fire to burn at
the blood staining his soul for eternity.
On
either side of the dark path, whispers. Eyes flashing. Magic gathering to lure
strays from the way. The tunnel led to a primeval shore where a narrow skiff
waited to carry them across a gray channel toward a high, great gate. The light
of the surrounding walls shifted through the varied spectrum of the rainbow, at
once blue and yellow, then azure and verdant green.
There
must be a mistake—even Spencer knew the truth.
Shadowman
delivered him to the gleaming portal, which opened in welcome. The light was
blinding. A song of piercing joy rose to cheer an addition to the Host.
Custo
turned to Shadowman, but Death was gone.
So
not Hell. Worse. A cosmic joke. A bloodied soul to be numbered with the angels.
He
was a liar, a murderer, a thief, but never a hypocrite. He didn’t belong here.
The
shining gate closed behind him, clanging shut like a Sunday church bell.
Custo
braced his hands on the spectacular surface. There had to be a way out. A way
to open the gate and a way to warn Adam.
Custo
banged a fist against the entrance.
Or
if not, good people died every day. Death would be back eventually, and
damn if Custo wouldn’t be ready.
Shadow Twilight:
“Good
night, Mr. Spencer,” his assistant Hilly Thompson told him as he walked by her
desk.
“I
take it everything is in place for my vacation?”
He
already knew the answer to the question, but wanted to hear her lovely voice
once more before he left.
“Of
course, Mr. Spencer. There’s a limo waiting for you in the garage that will
take you directly to the airport. I’ve already had your luggage boarded on your
plane, along with your winter coat and scarf. There will be a car waiting for
you when you land. Your room is booked and the newspapers and breakfast muffins
have been ordered for each day of your stay.”
“Hilly,
I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Thank
you, Mister Spencer.”
Her
sweet voice trailed off as Dillon walked to the elevator at the end of the
hallway. He wasn’t the kind of boss who chatted with his employees or got to
know their personal lives. He didn’t have time for that, and besides, the
honest truth was that if he ever got to know Hilly better he would probably
fall in love with her and there was no way that could ever happen. She was too
valuable as his assistant. No, it just wasn’t meant to be.
At
twenty-nine, Dillon considered himself at the top of his game and he simply
couldn't afford to be with a woman who might jeopardize his ability to focus
ninety-five percent of his time on his job. Logic dictated that when the time
came for him to settle down it would be with someone who could do something for
his career, not simply make his life easier, a woman who could add clients to
his firm, who was a brilliant litigator and had a sharp mind for law. That
woman was Nanette Larson, of Larson, Madison and Bradly. At one point, Nanette
was his fierce competitor until she and her husband divorced and Dillon’s
father recommended that he charm her into marriage.
Dillon
had carefully considered all of the ramifications of marrying someone he didn’t
love just to advance his career and decided it was worth the risk. He and Nanette
had gotten engaged two months ago and were planning on a spring wedding.
Everything
was in place for a perfect life. He and Nanette had decided to sell their
million-dollar condos and buy one double in size so they could better entertain
their potential clients and friends.
His
one fly in the perfectly white ointment was Hilly Thompson.
He’d
been attracted to Hilly from the first day she’d stepped into his office
looking for a job, the attraction hitting him hard, but he prided himself in
his staunch ability for self-control and had worked hard to remain somewhat
aloof to Hilly, which was his practice with most of his employees. There was no
mixing business and pleasure in the law firm, a strict rule his father had
enforced years ago, and Dillon had more than amply adhered to that policy. His
one diversion from his father’s strict policies was to send his own direct
reports a birthday greeting each year. Not that he had to personally do
anything for it. Hilly had set up a program that automatically did all the work
for him, and then she sent him a text when the gift and card were on their way.
The
woman was a godsend of an assistant, absolutely priceless. He honestly didn’t
think he could function without her.
Still,
lately, now that he was on his way to the altar, he couldn’t seem to stop
thinking about her . . . and wondering what her skin felt like, or the taste of
her full lips, or the scent of her hair or . . . .
The
elevator doors opened. Dillon hesitated for a moment, then returned to Hilly’s
desk.
Welcome Home, Vampire:
Most
guys came home from serving Afghanistan with a lot of shit on their plate. Cole
Wagner came back with more than his fair share. He literally wasn’t the same
man he’d been. Hell, he wasn’t even human any more.
The
night air, fragrant with the scent of roses, hummed with the ebb and flow of
crickets calling to attract a mate. It was all he could do to drag his feet
along the cracked, concrete walkway to the small military bungalow ahead of
him. The path was swept clean, the grass cut with a military precision. Flower
pots bracketed the cement steps held bright red geraniums. All that
was Kayla’s touch. Kayla.
What
the hell was he going to tell Kayla? Hi, good to see you again. Sorry your
husband is dead. God, I love you. The grief after Jack Pierce’s death two
years—two lifetimes—ago had been more deadly than the IED that had taken his
friend. Guilt and sorrow had eaten him alive, making him not give a shit if he
lived or died.
All
his life it had been him and Jack. When he’d been young, Jack’s family had
taken him in whenever his mom was on a bender and gone for days at a time. The
Pierce family had made him one of their own. They’d fed him, clothed him, given
him a place to sleep at night and kept him in school. He and Jack were more
like twins than best friends. They’d played the same sports, liked the same
girls, done the same stupid pranks in school, graduated together and gone into
the service as a team. Then, in an earth-shattering second, Cole had been alone
and lost.
He
knew that was precisely the reason he’d been selected for Vector Force. A flash
of memory, the agony as they tested him, transformed him into a monster,
stopped him in his tracks.
Flick.
His
fangs extended, and the need for blood started up the saliva, thick and slick
in the back of his mouth. Bone deep hunger gnawed at him.
For
a moment he swayed. He should have taken a few blood bags with him from the
base to staunch the need to feed, just in case, but he’d thought himself under
control. The porch light flicked on. Intense in the night to his amped up
vampire senses, it pierced the back of his brain and brought him back to the
here and now. The unmistakable mold and must tinge of sorrow scented the air
about the place, as did the baby-powder scent of loneliness. He shook his
head—willed his fangs to retract in gum tissue just above his even, normal
teeth.
The
door opened and there stood the most perfect woman in the world – Kayla
Montgomery. No. Not Montgomery any longer. Pierce. Mrs. Pierce. Widow
Pierce.
Her
hair, a gold, sleep-snarled halo around her head, made her seem angelic while
the curves and points of her naked breasts, perfectly outlined by the cling of
the white tank top she wore, spoke of a body created for far more earthly
pleasures. Almost every inch of her long, tan legs was bared by the pink, blue
and white striped sleep shorts hugging her hips.
“Cole?
Cole, is that you?” The screen door creaked open as she stepped out onto the
top step. “It is you!” He couldn’t stop staring. Her lush, pale pink lips
widened into a smile.
Inside
his chest, his heart fractured. Any words he’d thought he could scrape together
dried to dust on his tongue. Kayla. . .Oh, God. She’d been radiant in white the
last time he’d seen her. Elegant. Untouchable. She’d stood in front of the
altar on one side of Jack, and he’d stood on the opposite side of him as their
best man.
She
launched off the stoop, the screen door slapping shut behind her and ran
straight at him. Her arms wrapped around his waist in a death lock and she laid
her cheek against his chest. Delicate hints of citrus, flowers and warm woman
drifted up from her, filling his lungs as he inhaled sharply at her touch. He
breathed in again, as deeply as he could, letting the scent of her fill him to
the brim. The ache that stole over him was born of heartsick wanting. Kayla had
been his first girlfriend at sixteen. And despite years of finding some small
comfort in the arms of other more than willing women, no one else could touch
his heart. That still belonged to Kayla alone.
He
gently wrapped his arms around her in return, being extra careful to keep the
contact loose and relaxed. Even after two years in Vector Force, he still
didn’t know the extent of all his new vampire powers. The last thing he wanted
to do was break any of her delicate bones in a power hug.
“It’s
been awhile.” The words cracked as he said them. The silky strands of her hair
tickled his nose, as he breathed in the unique scent of her. Sweet and clean.
Every night he’d dreamed of holding her, just like this, again. He woke in the
morning hating himself for dreaming about his best friend’s wife. Even now he
knew thinking about how the soft curves of her breasts, bare beneath the thin
tank top pressed against his chest, was somehow wrong. She wasn’t his. He
shouldn’t want her the way he did.
“A
while?” She leaned back and looked up at him. Long, dark lashes framed
the soft brown eyes he remembered in his dreams. “Two years too long. You and
Jack shipped out less than a month after we married and I haven’t seen you
since.”
“I
know, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s
not your fault.” Kayla cocked her head to the side, the corners of her eyes
narrowing slightly.
Instinctively
he knew she wasn’t just talking about his absence; she was talking about her
husband’s death. She could say it all she wanted, like the shrinks at the
military hospital did, but it didn’t change a damn thing. If he’d just let Jack
drive, he would have taken the full impact of the IED instead of his best
friend. She would have been in her husband’s arms instead of his.
With
all the effort and careful touch he could muster, Cole pulled back from her.
Hard to do because he wanted to hold her forever, and yet impossible not to let
her go when there was still so much he needed to say to her.
“Come
inside.” Kayla slipped her small hand into his, totally unaware of the
explosion of chaos she caused in him.
“It’s
late. I can come back tomorrow.”
Kayla
shrugged. “It’s not like I sleep much anyway. And you’re here now. You came for
a reason, right?”
He
nodded, his frozen feet finally pulling free of the invisible bond to the
concrete walkway to move forward.
Cole's
hand felt cool and dry to the touch, but achingly familiar and comforting as
Kayla led him up the steps and through the old screen door of her little house.
She hadn’t thought of it as hers and Jack’s for a long time now. Time had a way
of changing perceptions. Jack had been gone for twenty-six months. Sometimes
her chest ached because she couldn't remember the sound of his voice, or the
way his skin smelled.
She'd
never forgotten Cole's voice, and his skin had the same warm cedar and clean soap
smell it had had since she'd known him in tenth grade. For one, she didn’t
remember Cole being this big when they dated in high school, or at the wedding.
He seemed larger than life standing beside Jack. They’d made quite a matched
set of handsome men. But the military had transformed Cole from merely a
gorgeous guy into a wall of lean muscle and serious blue eyes. And she swore
he’d grown taller. There was no doubt he changed.
Vampire Magic:
Marie’s
heart punched her chest. Although Nicholas was immortal, he looked about her
age, with tousled dark hair, hazel eyes, a bad-boy smile, and a hot-as-sin body
clothed in a black shirt and slim-fitting jeans. No scarves, no headdress, no
genie attire from her childhood imaginings.
A
gap of sexy silence passed between them. Or that was how it felt to her. But
maybe she was reading more into it because he was so gorgeous. She’d expected
handsome, but not the holy-fucking-hell kind.
“Hello,
Marie.” His voice was as devilish as the rest of him. “It’s nice to meet
you.”
She
could little more than reply, “You, too.”
He
gave a slight bow. “I’m at your service.”
She
was glad he hadn’t offered to shake her hand. She didn’t want him to touch her,
not until it was absolutely necessary. Already the main artery in her neck was
pulsing, from fear, no doubt. It certainly wasn’t from a latent fantasy to be
fed upon. Blood still grossed her out.
Didn’t
it? Yes, absolutely. His hotness hadn’t changed that.
He
said, “So you want your boyfriend to propose. Keith, isn’t it?”
She
nodded, and another stream of silence sizzled by. She didn’t like the effect he
had on her. She wanted him to stop staring. But no such luck. His gaze remained
riveted to hers.
He
said, “You’re going to have to give me verbal permission to feed.”
She
answered quickly, her tone jumpier than it should have been. “You have my
permission.”
“Then
we’re all set, aren’t we?”
“Yes,
I suppose we are.” She shuffled her feet. He didn’t seem the slightest
bit anxious. But why would he? Taking blood in exchange for wishes was his job.
Besides, with his supposed pain-in-the-butt personality, he was probably
enjoying her discomfort.
“I’ll
come to your house later.” He glanced at a clock on the wall. “Let’s say,
around nine?”
“That’s
fine.” She didn’t need to provide her address because he would be
monitoring her from his connection to the bracelet, aware of where she was at
all times. And now that they were face-to-face, the notion of being tracked by
him heightened her nerves. Was this how criminals felt when they were under
house arrest?
He
angled his head. “You’re a pretty little thing. Your boyfriend is a lucky guy.”
She
barely managed a polite, “Thank you,” before he added, “I’ll bet you’re going
to be a tasty treat, too. Lip-smacking good.”
Damn
him. She took a deliberate step back. There went his “gotcha” side.
Her
uncle came to the rescue. “Don’t act smart, Nicholas. Especially with my
niece.”
“Sorry.”
The smarty in question shrugged one shoulder at a time. “I was just
playing around.”
“I
know,” Darrin replied. “Like you always do.” He turned to Marie. “Don’t
let him intimidate you, Baby Girl. He’s harmless.”
The
gen-vamp grinned and leaned against the wall. “My wisecracks are worse than my
bite.”
She
suspected that his bite was going to sting something awful. Worse yet, he
winked at her when Darrin wasn’t looking. Harmless, her foot. Already he was
turning into a heap of trouble, and she’d only known him for a few minutes.
Immortal Possession:
Clark tapped his
pen against the thick folder. “We have a special case…one that could use your
expertise and unique qualifications.”
“Really?” The
dubious word was little more than a whoosh of air from her lungs. She probably
looked ridiculous and completely shell-shocked, but it was a little too late to
play it cool. Immortal Bounty needed her on a special case!
“I’m afraid I
can’t give you the details until you’ve accepted our offer and have signed the
proper paperwork, but it would involve your possession.”
It felt as
though the floor dropped out from under her. She couldn’t have heard him right.
“My what?”
He raised his
brows as though she were dense. “The use of your body, Dr. Vale.”
She glanced at
the young commander, but his jaw was locked tight, the muscles in his cheeks
bunching. “I’m a…I’m a forensic parapsychologist, Mr. Tanner, with a doctorate
in post-Collision metaphysics. I received the highest honors in my graduating
class. I was born to be an IB Investigator.”
He nodded. “And
you will be—when you accept our offer. You’ll have full benefits. A life on the
campus. A percentage of the bounty on every case your team leads. And a starting
salary that would make your past struggles nothing but a bad memory.”
“But you
said…possession. To use my body.”
She felt sick.
Evelyn had always been the proverbial “easy target”. She had spent her life in
fear of being overtaken by one spirit or another. And she had been, time after
time, losing control over her body and her choices, being completely controlled
by someone else. She couldn’t do it. No job was worth it. Nothing was worth it.
But then she thought of her family. If she didn’t provide for them, who would?
“Evelyn…can I
call you Evelyn?” the steward asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer.
“You’re
just the type of investigator we look for, but you’ve never been given a chance
because of your unfortunate little problem.”
He smiled and
folded his hands, but the way his gaze bore into her was a palpable force.
“This is your chance. Every employee has a one month probation period. Show us
what you’re made of. Prove that you can handle working in this environment and
coming into contact with malevolent spirits without succumbing. And when
succumbing is what is called for, show us that you’re willing to do what it
takes to complete an assignment. Do this, and your life at Immortal Bounty will
be a long and happy one.”
She pressed her
lips together. “But you’re talking about willingly being possessed.”
“Do you know the
average age of retirement from this company?” the steward asked her.
“No,” she
answered, not following his train of thought.
Clark steepled
his hands and tapped his thumbs together. “Forty-seven. Which may not sound
like much, until you know the average age at which an IB Mark has accumulated
enough wealth to retire comfortably for the rest of their natural lives. Tell
her, Commander.”
The commander’s
nostrils flared as though he didn’t enjoy contributing to the conversation.
“Thirty-four when they’re recruited straight out of college. A little longer at
your age.”
“Exactly,” Clark
said. “Which tells you two things, Evelyn. Number one, that half the Marks who
work here do so because they love it—not because they need to. And number two,
that sacrificing a little in the short term could be the best, most lucrative
decision of your life.”
She brought her
hand to her cheek. Everything was tingling. She wasn’t sure she could feel her
feet anymore. “Can you tell me what exactly I would be signing up for?”
“I’m sorry,” he
answered. “We’re contracted directly by the Governing Body of Greater America,
and the GBGA dictates that our operations remain classified to all non-Immortal
Bounty employees. I can assure you, though, that you will be in no danger. A
Sentinel would be with you at all times.”
She breathed
slowly, trying to think this through rationally, but her mind screamed that she
couldn’t hand her body and her will over. She couldn’t say yes to this. She’d
only been a child when The Great Collision happened, but even so, she was old
enough to remember the fear and chaos and how the fabric of the country had
torn to shreds in the aftermath of the disaster.
She’d heard
there had been a time before that day when most American families had had
enough to eat and the majority of the population could find work, but that
America was dead and gone. If her father wasted away from hunger, there was no
agency that would lift a finger to help him now.
The steward gave
her time to mull it over, and then she saw something shift in his gaze. It
reminded her of a poker player who knew his hand trumped all. “This assignment
will be short, Evelyn, but your career at Immortal Bounty will be long.”
He pulled
something from the drawer of his desk and held it up for her to see. It took a
minute to adjust her eyes to the glare of the shiny metal and read the small
letters etched into the badge. That was a real IB/GBGA badge. Evelyn Vale,
Investigator, it read. And under it was a contract with the seal of the Prime
Executive of Greater America.
When the steward
pushed the badge and contract toward her, she leaned over his heavy wood desk
and carefully took them from his grip, her eyes not leaving the gleam of the
metal badge in her hand. She’d made something like this when she was young with
the lid of an old aluminum can. But this one…this was the real deal. It would
perch on her hip or the pocket of her jacket and announce to the world that she
was the real deal, too.
She clutched the
badge and met the steward’s gaze. “You can protect me?”
“You’ll never be
safer.”
An image of her
father’s face and the satisfying weight of the metal in her hand made the
decision for her. “Where do I sign?”
Clark’s lips
pulled into a smile, and he reached over the desk and tapped a finger at the
bottom of the first page. Evelyn took a pen from the edge of his desk and
scrawled her name.
“Wonderful,” he
said. “I’ll set an appointment with Human Resources for your new hire package,
but the most important part is done. Welcome to Immortal Bounty, Evelyn.”
He stood and
offered her his hand, and at that point, whether or not her palms were still
sweaty was the furthest thing from her mind. To say the moment was surreal
would be like saying The Great Collision was a tiny screwup. “Thank you,
Steward Clark. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I know—”
The steward’s
head cocked to the side and his gaze went distant in a way that made her miss
the cellular phones of her parents’ day. At least back then you knew when you
were competing with an incoming call instead of everyone using those stupid ear
implants like they did now.
The steward
glanced down at his desk to another stack of papers and made a hmm noise,
seemingly moving on to the next task at hand. “Yes, give me a minute,” he said
to someone, then he glanced back to Evelyn and frowned. She sure as heck hoped
that frown was for the person on the phone and not for her.
“I know you
won’t disappoint us, Dr. Vale.” Steward Clark turned his gaze toward the
Sentinel on the sofa, and the man rose to his feet. He was massive, his muscles
nearly sufficient to carry the weight of the large chip sitting on his
shoulder. “Well, Commander Hayes, I’m sure you and Dr. Vale have much to
discuss. Let me be the first to congratulate you on your new partner.”
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