Dark Flight (The Shadow Slayers) (36 page)

He strode forward, grasped the handles of the pot and tipped the metal to his mouth. When the scorching surface hit his lips, he howled and chucked the pot against the far wall, cracking the drywall and splattering cheesy elbows from the entryway to the dishwasher. “How do you eat that?” he asked, surprised—and maybe a little impressed.

Kara would have snickered if the whole damn thing hadn’t been so bizarre. “I put it in a bowl and wait for it to cool down.”

“Ah.” He rubbed a fist over his distended stomach. “I’ve had enough.”

She wet a dishtowel and wrung out the water, then tossed it to him. “Here. For the…” She made a face and gestured to his sticky chest and bloody arms.

He frowned, seeming to ponder the merit of the towel, then he wiped it over his skin and threw it down. “I will rest now. Come.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the master bedroom. From the other side of the room, he lifted his hand and the balcony doors slammed shut. She felt the ward springing back to life, first the blue flame, then a stronger surge of energy wafted up from the floor, covering the blue light in smoky, undulating shadows.

When he pulled her down on the bare mattress beside him, her heart thrashed against her ribs. “I’ll just grab you a pillow and blanket,” she said, quickly scooting off the bed and darting around the other side. She picked up the pillow he’d discarded and some blankets and shoved them at his head. “Here you go. I nap on the floor. That’s where I sleep best. It has to do with my bad back. You know…firm surface and all.”

He reached the foot of the bed and grabbed the folded pillowcase he’d claimed as his own, then he caught Kara’s hand again in a tight grip and yanked her down beside him.

Just stay calm
, she told herself.
Don’t let him see you’re scared, and for heaven’s sake, try not to inhale his scent.

He spooned into her from behind, draped the limp pillowcase over his shoulder and rested his chin on the top of her head. “Stay here. I’ll deal with you when I wake.”

His grip on her was unyielding. She didn’t have an inch to wiggle away. “Sure thing.”

His breath stirred her hair. “You smell
right
.”

“So you said.” She felt his large shaft nudging the cleft of her ass, and she started to sweat. This time she was sure it was from pure panic. If he forced himself on her, what could she do? Go for his eyes? Scald him with more macaroni?

“I need to sleep,” he said, his voice already sounding groggy.

She lay stretched out beside him, her body as rigid and fragile as an ice sculpture. “Feel free. Don’t let me keep you up.”
Shit.
She cringed at the double meaning he might find in those words.

“I haven’t slept, but I’m tired.” And for a frighteningly powerful being, he
sounded
tired.

“You haven’t slept since when?”

“Since time began.”

She knew he was referring to when he rose from the earth. “Are you saying you haven’t slept in days?”

“Weeks.”

She might have felt worse for him if not for his thick cock pressing into her towel and his exotic scent causing sweat to trickle down her cleavage. “Is that normal?”

“I’m not sure.”

She wanted to pull her hair out in frustration. What the hell was going on? “You don’t know your name, where you came from or why you look like the man I loved. They tell me it’s not possible, but you’re either him or one sick bastard.”

“I know my name.” Dragging his chin from the top of her head to her temple, he flicked out his tongue and caught the drop of moisture beading on her skin. “Tonight, it’s
Julian
.”

“And what happens tomorrow, Julian? What are you going to do with me?”

She felt the low rumble of his chest vibrating in her back. “No more questions. Sleep now.” He shifted, wrapping his huge hands around her waist as he inched lower.

“Ah!” She felt the sting as he bit the curve between her shoulder and her neck. But when he latched on, her body ignited like dry tinder. She was ashamed at the involuntary response, but as he suckled the wound, her pussy grew slick and her clit engorged. Even knowing he might kill her tomorrow, she wasn’t sure she could deny him tonight.

His wings were made to protect her…but her heart is a no-fly zone.

The Silverwing’s Sorceress

© 2012 Cassi Carver

The Shadow Slayers, Book 2.5

Abbey Sellers has to get out of town for a few days while trouble at home sorts itself out. A getaway to her family’s mountain retreat with her friend, Jaxon, is exactly what she needs to relax and forget the wound etched into her stomach. Except since the scorching kiss they shared, spending time with Jaxon isn’t as relaxing as it used to be.

Grounded warriors, secret tunnels, and an ancient Book of Death are only part of the problem. How does any woman with a pulse stay “just friends” with a man who spent a hundred years honing his lovemaking skills in a harem? Besides, he’s immortal, and she has a shelf life. Jaxon, though, isn’t listening—or taking no for an answer.

Jaxon Hex finally knows what he wants, and he won’t let anything stop him from making Abbey his. Not even the devastating secret he’s been hiding from her. With the coven out to assassinate the woman he loves, and Abbey dabbling in death magic that could get her killed, his own blood could be the one thing that heals her—or separates them for all eternity.

Warning: This book contains a warrior with needs, a woman with willpower issues and a cabin that’s not what it seems. Watch out for no-holds-barred sex and a love that can move mountains…literally.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Silverwing’s Sorceress:

Abbey glanced back and forth between Jaxon’s work boot smashing down the brake pedal and the pine trees flashing past the darkened passenger window. “Pump harder, Jaxon!”

Sparks shot from the side of the passenger door as the white Neon scraped against the metal railing separating them from the sheer drop of the cliff.

But rubbing the railing wasn’t enough to slow them down. Not when the mountain range they’d driven up for the past forty-five minutes finally crested, and the road began its steep downhill descent—a slope that on any other day would have them to her family’s cabin in just a few miles.

“Hold it down,” she urged. “Just press it to the floor!”

He speared her with a quick glance. “I know how to stop a car.”

Braking was something Abbey had taught him day one of his driving lessons, and she knew deep in her heart, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, that this wasn’t a simple problem of him not doing it right.

The brakes were out.

Jaxon slammed his foot onto the brake so hard that it looked as if the force buried the pedal in the floorboard. The vibrations from the car riding the railing were enough to make the speedometer a blur. It probably didn’t matter how fast they were going anyway. There was a vertical rock wall looming above them to their left and a drop off the side of the mountain to their right. They were going to die. And Abbey wasn’t ready.

“Put on your seatbelt, Abigail. Do it now,” Jaxon commanded.

When a realization broke through her panic, a sense of peace filled her like a cleansing breath of ocean air. Jaxon was Demiáre, and fallen angel hybrids like him could survive anything but total decapitation. Abbey, with her witch blood, wasn’t so lucky.

With the sound of metal shredding and sparks lighting the dark night, Abbey laid her hand on Jaxon’s shoulder. His skin was hot and damp through the thin white T-shirt he wore, and as he fought for control over the steering wheel, the car began to hop from its left tires to its right, threatening to tip.

“You were a true friend when I needed one, Jaxon. I’m so thankful for you.” She managed to say it calmly, even over the horrible screeching in her ears.

As though her words gave the battered railing permission to give up the fight, her old car gave a hard jerk and tore through the barricade. The impact flung her against the door for one terrible moment, then there was nothing.

The car quieted but for the soft hum of the engine as she fell against the roof, her hair covering her face and eyes as if to protect her from seeing the moonlit canyon floor rushing up at them. “Take…care…of Kara.”

“No!” Jaxon flung himself at Abbey, already willing the flash as his arms clamped around her.

The breath rushed from her lungs when they hit the seat then crashed to the roof again. They rolled together in the metal prison, her glorious red hair fanning across his cheeks as he willed them to dissolve.

But something was terribly wrong. He’d never felt a barrier of witch magic when he’d flashed before. Now it was like a strong wind snuffing out the fire of his will. He crushed Abbey to his chest, knowing he couldn’t protect her if he couldn’t flash.

When the car skimmed the side of the mountain with a bone-shattering jolt, Jaxon knew they were seconds from impact. He closed his eyes, centered his will and cast his thoughts out with more energy than he’d ever done before.

Not far
, he begged.
Not an old familiar place. Just there.
He visualized the top of the mountain, a place he’d visited seconds before, and he felt the blackness take him.

He grasped Abbey tighter, not caring if he was crushing her, and they dissolved together. He carried her through the Abyss in a flash outside of time, the endless depths not even having the chance to pull at their souls before they hit the asphalt—his back and head first, then Abbey coming to a crushing stop on his chest. The sky opened with the deafening sound of her beloved Neon compressing into an accordion on the granite rocks below.

Jaxon coughed as the air returned to his lungs. “Abbey?”

He blinked once then sat up and grasped Abbey by the shoulders to get a better look. The bandages wrapped around her abdomen had soaked through, and the light pink sundress she wore was spotted with blood. “Say something.”

Save her life…or save mankind. His choice could cost him his soul.

Soul Deep

© 2012 Anne Hope

Dark Souls, Book 2

For nearly two centuries, Marcus has been the Watchers’ most faithful soldier. Sworn to protect humanity, driven by an unrelenting compulsion to atone for past sins, he has rarely found a compelling reason to question his mission, let alone defy his leader.

His partner, Regan, is his exact opposite, an enigma he longs to solve. A free spirit and reckless to a fault, Regan acts first and thinks later. Her smart mouth and tender heart have fascinated Marcus for decades, but the Watchers’ strict vow of celibacy has forced him to ignore the sizzling attraction between them. Until now.

When Regan goes rogue to protect a very special little boy, Marcus is forced to make an impossible choice—commit an act of treason or watch the woman he secretly loves die.

Hunted by enemies and allies alike, Regan and Marcus run for their lives, fighting to thwart an age-old prophecy and guard a boy whose destiny may very well be to destroy the world…or save it.

Warning: Contains violent battle scenes, angels with twisted agendas, nail-biting suspense, intense emotion, burning-hot sexual tension, and a sexy, stubborn hero who would rather face death than admit what’s in his heart.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Soul Deep:

She laced her arms across her chest as the sun slowly set behind red-hued clouds. “What’s going to happen to him, Marcus?”

He didn’t have to ask her who she meant. Ever since they’d found Ben cowering in that kitchen, the boy had dominated her thoughts, maybe even her heart. Marcus had never believed it was possible for their kind to love, but recently he’d been forced to revisit that assumption. He’d seen it firsthand with Jace and Lia, and now he was seeing it again with Regan. Maybe one didn’t necessarily need to have a soul in order to love. Maybe just the echo of it was enough, similar to a phantom limb that continued to throb long after it was severed.

“Cal hasn’t come to any decisions yet,” he told her.

A brisk breeze blew, sending her curls rioting around her face. Again, he was seized by the urge to reach out to her, to smooth back her hair, to run the pad of his thumb across her mouth.

A mouth meant to be kissed.

He gave himself a mental kick, focused his attention on the churning waves below. He had no business kissing Regan. No business even thinking about it. When he’d taken the blood vow, he’d made a conscious choice to swear off sex, same as all those who bore the Watchers’ mark.

Only Jace and Lia seemed exempt from this oath, and Marcus couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He’d seen Cal punish his followers for far less a crime. If there was one thing his leader demanded, it was absolute loyalty.

Regan picked up a pebble, then flung it over the cliff into the restless ocean. “Do you believe in destiny?”