by Zoë Archer
Her words of love had affected him. She felt it in every deep stroke, every moment he held her gaze. Nothing stood between them now. Raw emotion touched his face and she knew he saw the same from her.
“I have only one more thing I want you to do, baby.” He kept his steady pace, drawing out the moment.
“What’s that?” Her voice was breathless.
“Simon says, marry me?”
A laugh started from her lips as she reached up to encircle his neck.
“Yes, Simon. Oh, yes!”
He kissed her then, joining their bodies in every possible way as his strokes increased. He was wild at the last, holding her by the shoulders so his hard thrusts didn’t push her up against the headboard. She was cocooned by him, surrounded and engulfed by him, and it felt wonderful.
They came together in a shower of passionate sparks that set them both aflame with rapture, flying higher than ever before. Together. Forever.
If fate allowed.
What felt like hours later, Mariana woke. Simon lay beside her, propped up on one elbow watching her.
“Did I fall asleep?”
“I think you passed out.” He grinned. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to push you so hard. Are you okay?”
She stretched sore limbs, taking stock. “I’m glorious.”
“That you are, my love.” One big hand stroked her rib cage, tracing delicate patterns on her skin.
“Did you mean it, Simon? Do you really want to get married?”
“Yes, Mari. I know it’s selfish, but I need you. I can’t live without you. I…love you.” His expression looked pained for a split second. “I’ve never said that to a woman before. I’ve never felt it before, but I feel it with you, Mari. I’ve loved you for a long time. In fact…” He reached over the side of the bed and fished something out of the pocket of his pants, then threw them aside once more. “I bought this three years ago, with the intention of giving it to you when I came back from that last mission. Then things happened, and well, now you know the rest. The thing is, I never could put this away. I’ve carried it all this time and now I know why.”
He held out his hand and opened his fist, palm up. On it sparkled a diamond ring that took her breath away.
“This is yours, Mari. I bought it for you. Will you accept it? Will you accept me, knowing what happened to me? Knowing there’s a heap of uncertainty in my life and about my future? Knowing that I love you and want to spend whatever time I have left with you? Knowing that I’ve loved you since we first met and it’s taken me all this time to find the courage to tell you?”
“Oh, Simon.” She sat up, tears in her eyes as she reached for his hand. He captured hers and placed the ring on her finger himself. The moment seemed sacred, somehow.
“I love you, Mariana, and I always will.”
“I love you, Simon. No matter what comes, we’ll be together.” Tears rolled down her face as he kissed her, cementing their love.
They’d have a ceremony later and a big party with their friends and family, but all that really mattered was their love. Undying, unable to be destroyed by time, distance, or horror. They had each other now, and that was all that mattered.
Or so Simon said.
If you liked this book, you’ve got to try ETERNAL HUNTER, the latest from Cynthia Eden, in stores now from Brava…
She reached into her bag and pulled out a check. Not the usual way things were handled in the DA’s office, but…“I’ve been authorized to acquire your services.” He didn’t glance at the check, just kept those blue eyes trained on hers. Her fingers were steady as she held the check in the air between them. “This check is for ten thousand dollars.”
No change of expression. From the looks of his cabin, the guy shouldn’t have been hesitating to snatch up the money.
“Give the check to Night Watch.”
At that, her lips firmed. “I already gave them one.” A hefty one, at that. “This one’s for you. A bonus from the mayor. He wants this guy caught, fast.” Before word about the true nature of the crime leaked too far.
“So old Gus doesn’t think his cops can handle this guy?”
Gus LaCroix. Hard-talking, ex-hard-drinking mayor. No nonsense, deceptively smart, and demanding. “He’s got the cops on this, but he said he knew you, and that you’d be the best one to handle this job.”
Erin strongly suspected that Gus belonged in the Other world. She hadn’t caught any unusual scent drifting from him, but his agreement to bring in Night Watch and his almost desperate demands to the DA had sure indicated the guy knew more than he was letting on about the situation.
Could be he was a demon. Low-level. Many politicians were.
Jude took the check. Finally. She dropped her fingers, not wanting the flesh on flesh contact with him. Not then.
He folded the check and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. “Guess you just got yourself a bounty hunter.”
“And I guess you’ve got yourself one sick shifter to catch.”
He closed the distance between them, moving fast and catching her arms in a strong grip.
Aw, hell. It was just like before. The heat of his touch swept through her, waking hungers she’d deliberately denied for so long.
Jude was sexual. From his knowing eyes, his curving, kiss-me lips, to the hard lines and muscles of his body.
Deep inside, in the dark, secret places of her soul that she fought to keep hidden, there was a part of her just like that.
Wild. Hot.
Sexual.
“Why are you afraid of me?”
Not the question she’d expected, but one she could answer. “I know what you are. What sane woman wouldn’t be afraid of a man who becomes an animal?”
“Some women like a little bit of the animal in their men.”
“Not me.” Liar.
His eyes said the same thing.
“Do your job, Donovan. Catch the freak who cut up my prisoner—”
“Like Bobby had been slashing his victims?”
Hit. Yeah, there’d been no way to miss that significance.
“When word gets out about what really happened, some folks will say Bobby deserved what he got.” His fingers pressed into her arms. Erin wore a light, silk shirt—and even that seemed too hot for the humid Louisiana spring night. His touch burned through the blouse and seemed to singe her flesh.
“Some will say that,” she allowed. Okay, a hell of a lot would say that. “But his killer still has to be caught.” Stopped, because she had the feeling this could be just the beginning.
Her feelings about death weren’t often wrong.
She was a lot like her dad that way.
And, unfortunately, like her mother, too.
“What do you think? Did he deserve to be clawed to death?”
An image of Bobby’s ex-wife, Pat, flashed before her eyes. The doctors had put over one hundred and fifty stitches into her face. She’d been his most brutal attack.
Erin swallowed. “His punishment was for the court to decide.” She stepped back, but he didn’t let her go. “Uh, do you mind?”
“Yeah, I do.” His eyes glittered down at her. “If we’re gonna be working together, we need honesty between us.”
“We need you to find the killer.”
“Oh, I will. Don’t worry about that. I always catch my prey.”
So the rumors claimed. The hunters from Night Watch were known throughout the U.S.
“You’re shivering, Erin.”
“No, no, I’m not.” She was.
“I make you nervous. I scare you.” A pause. His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered, then slowly rose back to meet her stare. “Is it because I know what you are?”
She wanted his mouth on hers. A foolish desire. Ridiculous. Not something the controlled woman wanted, but what the wild thing inside craved. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Don’t I?”
Erin jerked free of his hold and glared at him. “Few thing
s in this world scare me. You should know that.” There was one thing, one person, who terrified her but now wasn’t the time for that disclosure. No, she didn’t tell anyone about him.
If she could just get around Jude and march out of that door—
“Maybe you’re not scared of me, then. Maybe you’re scared of yourself.”
She froze.
“Not human,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Not vamp.”
Vamp? Thankfully, no.
“Djinn? Nah, you don’t have that look.” His right hand lifted and he rubbed his chin. “Tell me your secrets, sweetheart, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Sorry, not the sharing type.” She’d wasted enough time here. Erin pushed past him, ignoring the press of his arm against her side. Her body ached and the whispers of hunger within her grew more demanding every moment she stayed with him.
Weak.
She hated her weakness.
Just like her mother’s.
“You’re a shifter.” His words stopped her near the door. She stared blankly at the faded wood. Heard the dull thud of her heart echoing in her ears.
Then the soft squeak of the old floorboards as he closed the distance between them.
Erin turned to him, tilted her head back—
He kissed her.
She heard a growl. Not from him—no, from her own throat.
The hunger.
Sure, he made the first move, he brought his lips crashing down on hers, but…she kissed him right back.
And don’t miss THE STRANGER’S SECRETS by Beth Williamson, available now from Brava…
The dining room was nearly bursting at the seams. There was only one unoccupied table by the time Sarah and Whitman arrived to eat. Unfortunately, it was in a corner and made for two.
“Told you to hurry,” Whitman grumbled under his breath.
Sarah couldn’t stop a very unladylike snort, again. “Next time I’ll run up the stairs and you stand at the bottom then.”
He didn’t respond, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he was holding in a laugh. Perhaps the serious Yankee did have a sense of humor after all.
When they sat down, Sarah realized it was the first time they were face-to-face. On the train and even walking to the hotel, they’d been beside each other. Facing Whitman was an entirely different experience.
He wasn’t classically handsome, but damn, he was exactly the kind of man Sarah was attracted to. His face was angular, the late-day whiskers only added to his appeal, his nose was slightly crooked, and a few scars were scattered here and there as if he’d been wounded by small pieces of something.
But it was his eyes that captured her attention. Deep, green, and framed by those long eyelashes, Whitman had the sexiest gaze she’d ever seen. Fortunately or unfortunately, she felt a tug of sensual awareness just looking at the tousled chocolate locks above those eyes.
Hell and crackers.
He frowned. “Why are you scowling at me?”
“I’m not scowling.” She fiddled with the fork and knife on the table while hoping the missing waitress would appear to save her from the awkward situation.
Damn Mavis Ledbetter. The woman was over by the window with that same gentleman, completely ignoring the fact she’d been paid to take care of Sarah. Whit had been right—she was going to fire Mavis and leave her in whatever town this was.
“She looks to be a spinster.” Whit followed Sarah’s gaze. “Looks as if she hasn’t given up the quest for a husband, though.”
“She spent so much time declaring she was a spinster, she kept most men away from her.” Sarah frowned at Mavis. “Nobody in town wanted anything to do with her because of her reputation.”
“You’re from the same town then?”
His question was one anyone in polite company would ask, but Sarah found herself unwilling to answer any personal questions. So she decided to insult him to keep him disliking her. “You’re nosy.”
“You’re rude.”
“You’re pushy.”
He barked a laugh. “And you’re refreshingly honest.”
Sarah found herself holding back a chuckle. What was it about this annoying Yankee that set her on her head? Aside from being handsome, there wasn’t anything else remarkable about him. She needed to figure out his appeal so she could combat it and keep her distance, at least as much as she could, considering they were going to be stuck in a train compartment together for fifteen hundred miles.
“Then you won’t mind if I continue being honest.”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t expect any less.”
Why in the hell did that make Sarah’s heart thump like a bass drum? Back home, when she ate a meal, it was with her friends, a group where everyone chatted and relaxed. Sitting with Whit made her feel jumpy and awkward—a condition Sarah was definitely not used to.
“You make me uncomfortable,” she blurted.
His eyebrows went up. “I do?”
Now that she’d gone down that path, she had to finish her thought. “I’m sure you’ve heard the song before, Mr. Kendrick, but Yankees aren’t high on my list of favorite folks, much less one I have to rely on. It’s going to take some time for me to, ah, adjust, so if you can, be patient with me.”
Whit nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
She didn’t want to demand anything from the man. After all, there was no reason for him to help her. His actions told her more than anything that he was a gentleman. “When life kicks you once, you get back up and move on. When life kicks you a dozen times, you’re less willing to forgive and trust.” That was as far as she planned on going with that train of thought. He seemed like a sharp guy and could likely understand why she felt uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry. I won’t give you any cause to kick me back. I promise.” The sincerity in his gaze made her want to believe him.
Ridiculous, of course. Why should she trust a stranger? She had to rely on him to be her companion, however that would turn out. Yet expecting him to carry her bags was a far cry from trusting him with her life. Sarah could take care of herself, for the most part anyway, and she regretted the fact she couldn’t do it all the time.
“Good, because I bite when I kick.” She fought back a grin.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me in the least.” He smiled at the waitress as she approached the table.
The young blond thing sparkled like a new penny when she caught sight of Whitman. Sarah wanted to trip her with the cane.
“Good evening, sir. Can I fetch you something to drink? Or an order of meatloaf? It’s the best in the county.” The young woman smiled while her face flushed.
Sarah harrumphed at the obvious tactics the girl used. “I’d like some of that meatloaf and hot coffee.”
The girl looked surprised to see Sarah sitting there.
“I’m sure Mr. Kendrick here will have the same thing.” Sarah shot Whitman a challenging look, daring him to contradict her.
“Meatloaf and coffee would be lovely. Thank you, miss.” He graced the girl with another smile, sending her scurrying to the kitchen.
At least the food would arrive quickly considering the girl was already enamored of Whitman.
“Are you always this honest?” Whit picked up the spoon in front of him.
“Yes, I am. Does it bother you?” Sarah was ready to show him just how forceful she could be with her words.
“Not at all.” He breathed on the spoon and stuck it on the end of his nose. Sarah almost choked on her spit as she watched a grown man play at a child’s trick. What the hell was he doing?
When he smiled, the force of it snatched Sarah’s breath. She could do nothing but look at the grin behind the spoon and wonder if she’d stepped into a dream of her own twisted mind. He was beautiful, a Yankee, and charming as all hell.
Sarah was afraid she’d lose more than her spoon to Whitman Kendrick.
Here’s a sneak peek at Donna Kauffman’s HERE COMES TROUBLE, out next month from Brava!
No, that blame lay right on the lovely, slender shoulders of Kirby Farrell, innkeeper, and rescuer of trapped kittens. Granted, after the adrenaline rush of finding her hanging more than twenty feet off the ground by her fingertips, it shouldn’t be surprising that sleep eluded him, but that wasn’t entirely the cause. Maybe he’d simply spent too long around women who were generally over-processed, over-enhanced, and overly made up, so that meeting a regular, everyday ordinary woman seemed to stand out more.
It was a safe theory, anyway.
And yet, after only a few hours under her roof, he’d already become a foster dad to a wild kitten and had spent far more time thinking about said kitten’s savior than he had his own host of problems.
Maybe it was simply easier to think about someone else’s situation. Which would explain why he was wondering about things like whether or not Kirby would make a go of things with her new enterprise here, what with the complete lack of winter weather they were having. And what her story was before opening the inn? Was this place a lifelong dream? For all he knew, she was some New England trust fund baby just playing at running her own place. Except that didn’t jibe with what he’d seen of her so far.