Eclipsing Dawn (Dusk takes Dawn)

For Wayne, I yearned and you fulfilled all desires.

Detective Dawn Granger loves a man she can never touch. Duncan Craig is enigmatic, gorgeous, immortal, and cursed to spend his days as a stone statue. Their only communication is through the videos and voice messages he sends in his time awake. The man is skilled at captivation and she is desperate to be with him.

Duncan’s curse intensifies his need for control. When faced with Dawn’s strength, loveliness, and intellect his passion to possess her becomes a white-hot craving. Despite the obstacles, he makes a promise. If she frees him from his prison of stone, he’ll help her explore
her hidden desires and bend her to the whims of his erotic demands.

Dawn can’t resist the challenge. She’ll do whatever it takes, even misuse magic, to see Duncan make good on his promise…

All at once erotic, paranormal, and humorous,
Eclipsing Dawn is perfect for late night reads or an afternoon delight.

INSPIRATION SONG: Kiss From A Rose
 
– Acoustic Version

eclipsing dawn
Celia Sweet

She woke up beside the statue of the man she loved. Pride brought a smile to her face. No man so beautiful, so utterly male had ever been sculpted out of granite. He lived and walked the world each night. Duncan Craig, her cursed lover. Her love. Not her lover. Not her lover yet, anyway.

Sunlight freed her limbs from the marble that also
imprisoned her each night. Dawn’s lungs ached as she breathed in morning air and dew. The first breath hurt the most. Damn the daybreak because her people were as damned as Duncan’s. Long ago her ancestors had abused magic so badly, most people still called them witches. Others said they were sorcerers. Either way Dawn’s ancestors had flown too close to the sun, seeking to rival the gods with their magic.
The Powers That Be
hadn’t liked the competition and swatted them down, cursing them to spend all their nights as marble sculptures. The Powers could really be a pain in the ass sometimes. Most times. Dawn’s people had lived by the moon, and it fueled their magic. Since they’d been denied moonlight they’d become weaker and dependant on spells.

Duncan’s ancestors had suffered a similar fate. Except they’d been mages, ancient magicians, who made the mistake of bargaining with dark powers to gain their magic. Eventually those bargains gained them their curse.

Dawn grumbled under her breath at the sun, a bitter substitute for the moon. She looked out over New Chicago. The rooftop perch she and Duncan shared stood twenty-two stories high with no easy way up or down, unless you had their permission to enter or to leave. In quiet moments she fantasized about riding Duncan’s thick erection as he balanced her over the ledge. She imagined him thrusting strong and deep into her as the danger of falling made her orgasm two or three times over, in delicious overlapping waves.

She ran the back of her hand over Duncan’s chiseled thigh. Her man must be a magnificent sight in the flesh, but Dawn could only imagine. When he walked the night she slept the stone sleep and vice versa.

Straddling his thigh, Dawn exhaled. One hand cupped the impressive bulge at the front of his statue, the other splayed across the small of his back. She wanted so badly to see him in the night, when the scarlet of his favorite long-sleeved t-shirt would complement the wealth of muscle beneath it. Especially when paired with the blue-grey of his eyes and his tousled onyx hair.

"Ahh," she murmured dreamily, sliding down, then up again, then down and pressing his sculptured thigh into her core until hot moisture soaked her underwear. The smooth yet wind-roughened texture of his stony forearm teased her nipples to life—part pleasure, part pain, and all good. Dammit! Frustration caught in her throat. She craved skin-to-skin contact. She wanted to feel the length of him stiffen in her hand, or her mouth, and to know her body, not the curse, made his erection turn to stone.

All right then, if she weren’t grinding against his statue she might be able to make the fantasy of seeing him in the flesh come true. She had a mission to complete. Tonight was All Hallows Eve. From what they’d learned, it might be their only shot at freezing time and finally being able to touch. She got moving.

Duncan had left their shared smart phone at her feet along with a messenger bag she hadn’t seen before. The dark bag jangled when she prodded it with her toe.

A mental sticky note went up in her mind to remind her to check the bag out later.

Right now, she needed to listen to the message she knew Duncan had left on their phone. Hopefully, he’d outlined what he discovered during the night. And whether they were any closer to freezing time so they could be together.

They’d promised to leave one another video messages, texts, and notes. Otherwise, they’d have no way of keeping up with each other. No way of communicating at all. She reached for the phone and hesitated. She tucked her hands into her pockets. Once she watched his video she wouldn’t get to see him again until tomorrow. There’d be no other contact. Dawn took a moment to savor the anticipation of what her
sexy-as-hell
man would say, and the way his words, eyes, body, and voice would set her senses on fire.

Eagerness overtook Dawn. Her body grew hotter, wetter.
If that were possible.
Her nipples throbbed until she took one breast in each hand and squeezed. The gesture ramped up the insistent need to a throbbing ache. Her mind begged her body to stop tormenting her. Treacherous body. It only obeyed Duncan and continued to long for him. Only him.

To distract herself from her desires, Dawn thought back to how she and Duncan met. They’d been partnered as police detectives for a decade, ever since the Powers That Be decided Duncan’s clan of mages, The Cursed Craigs of Scotland, should team up with the witches of New Chicago. The two groups formed a kind of paranormal police force to keep the peace among the magic-users in the city.

Dawn rolled her eyes. The Powers continuously forced them to pay penance. As if they hadn’t lost enough already. The Craigs would never again see the sunrise or farm their beloved homelands by the light of day.

Dawn looked up at Duncan’s handsome, though fierce, expression. A sculpted warrior, he’d bared his teeth to snarl at the coming sunrise. He’d raised his fist as though any moment he’d hurtle into the air and beat the sun into submission for denying him its glow. He would, too. If he could. He might even fight for her love. If he burned for her the way she did for him she didn’t doubt he’d do anything to hold her in his arms.

Snatching up the phone and messenger bag, she whispered her goodbyes. "I’ll be back soon, Dusk," she said, calling Duncan by her nickname for him. Her promise wrapped her in a warmth the sunlight hadn’t managed. Her fingertips caressed a granite bicep as she passed his statue, and exited the roof.

Duncan and Dawn had moved into the penthouse of one of the buildings his clan owned a year or so before. The Craigs were richer than sin. Actually, they were fabulously wealthy due a global beverage empire, specializing in scotch, bourbon, whiskey, and soft drinks.

As far as Dawn could tell, they both adored their new home. She knew she did, and Duncan seemed content when she watched his videos. Flinging the door to the loft open, she paused in the entryway to breathe her man in. His scent enveloped her, mountain air and aromatic wood—snow and forest. Tantalizing.

The area rugs over their hardwood floors muted the sound of her boot heels as she crossed to the couch. Dawn discarded pieces of clothing as she moved until only her bra and panties remained. She planned to grab a quick shower before heading out later.

Flopping down in the center of the cushions, she dropped the bag beside her and lifted their phone to eye level. At the edge of her vision a screensaver morphed in a variety of abstract shapes. Duncan had left the laptop open on the coffee table. No matter how often she got after him, the man had no concept of going green. He said a big carbon footprint came with a big body. She laughed, making a note to shut the laptop down after she checked her e-mail, but that would have to wait until after she’d heard his voice and seen his face.

Swiping through the icons on the phone, she found the messages and opened the latest.

"Good morning, my jewel."

Duncan’s voice wafted from the phone, a salve to her parched senses. Every morning, his messages reminded her he’d stolen her heart and soul. He’d captured her effortlessly. She hoped she’d done the same for him.

They’d fallen for each other on the job and no one at the precinct had the balls to protest, no matter how many massive floral arrangements or annoyingly cute bears in kilts appeared on her desk. Duncan and Dawn were far too good together, far too lethal and effective a tag-team for their superiors to question. And, besides, it wasn’t like they could actually be together.

Thus their relationship had continued to grow despite the limitations. Their dates consisted mostly of watching movies one of them picked out and leaving messages to discuss. Or they shared videos tours of their favorite places in order to get to know each other better.

Conversations normal couples finished in an hour took Duncan and Dawn weeks, sometimes months. Yet somehow they’d managed to tell one another all their secrets. She’d learned how demanding a lover he would be and she liked it. Dawn had never had a man she couldn’t manhandle; she wanted to relinquish control with a lover she could trust.