by Cathryn Cade
Behind her, she heard Malu say something to Leilani. Both of them laughed. She wondered if they were laughing at her, and then rolled her eyes at herself. That was so junior high. And Leilani was nice, even if Malu was a big recipe gone bad.
It was dark on the back lawn, just the light shining from the windows. The only sounds were the rustling of foliage and a few frogs piping in the forest.
Melia flipped her hair off her shoulders and blew out a long breath. Good grief, why did she let him fluster her this way? She wandered slowly along the lanai. The soft caress of the humid air and the sweet scents wafting on it soothed her. Walking on, she stopped to sniff a familiar acrid odor, then wrinkled her nose. Eww, some of the group were smoking pot, right up in the trees. She heard Clay or Jimmer laugh, and shook her head. What a useless waste of time, not to mention illegal.
She followed the faint sounds of island music around the corner. Frank was perched on the porch railing, playing a small ukulele. He smiled at her as she walked into the light of the tiki torches stuck in the garden. Curling up on one of the rattan loungers, she listened to the soft melody and let her mind drift.
She was bothered and bewildered by her attraction to Malu. She’d better handle it before she was bewitched. The Big Island was exerting its magic on her. That was it—he was part of the tropical ambience, like the lava flows, jet black against the green-and-gold mountainsides, like the turquoise water in the bay, the surf curling into frothy white on the golden, sandy beach.
Just another Hawaiian native, as beautiful as the fish eddying over the reef, the sea turtles paddling slowly along or the dolphins leaping joyously from the waves, as full of quiet power as the mountain that towered behind them. Hopefully without the menace.
Realizing the poetic nature of her thoughts, she blushed, glad no one else could see in the dim, flickering light of the torches. Good grief, next she’d be putting it to music and playing the ukulele in the moonlight.
She opened the nearest door into a quiet sitting room now in shadows. She bumped an end table, and something fell with a rustle to the woven floor mat. Melia fumbled for the nearest lamp and snapped it on. A sketchbook lay on the floor, a page poking out as if torn.
Bending, she picked it up and opened it, then blinked in surprise as she gazed at a pencil sketch of the bay, obviously done by someone on the front lanai. The sketch was rough, as if it had been done quickly, but even to her untutored eye, it was very good.
She sank onto the rattan settee next to the lamp and turned the page. Another sketch of the bay, like the first, only a little more refined, the black lava rocks shaded in, the palm trees textured. Were these by the same artist whose work hung on the walls?
She flipped to the next page and the next. To her disappointment, all were bare, except the loose one. As she pulled the page carefully from the sketchbook, she caught her breath. This sketch was of a woman. She was seated on a rock, foliage behind her, her head bent. She held a single flower in her hands, and she looked down at it with dreamy concentration. Her shoulders were bare, a few vague lines suggesting she was nude.
Melia narrowed her eyes. The woman’s hair was undefined, her features only a few tender lines. And yet she looked somehow familiar.
The edge of the paper was crumpled, as if the artist had begun to discard it and then changed his or her mind. A little guiltily, Melia set the sketchbook back on the end table, the sketch of the woman still in her hand.
The artist had nearly thrown it away. Surely he or she wouldn’t miss it if she just enjoyed it while she was here. She’d return it before she left.
She went to her room. After setting the sketch carefully on her bedside table, she readied herself for bed, her mind full of the activities and tensions of the day. When she closed her eyes, she felt as if she were still in the water, being rocked gently by the waves. She turned onto her side and hugged the extra pillow to her.
She dreamed of Malu.
He lounged in the shade of the beach palms, smiling lazily at her, even though Cherie and Jacquie snuggled close at his sides in their bikinis.
Melia walked toward him, drawn by a force beyond her control. His dark eyes slid down over her in a caress as strong as if he had stroked her with his hand. Heady triumph filled her—he wanted her, even with the other women available.
He beckoned her with one finger.
Her heart beat in slow, heavy strokes. She knew what he wanted. Slowly, she lifted her hands to the ties of her bikini top and unfastened them. The top dangled from her fingertips, then fell to the sand, leaving her breasts bare to his gaze. Her nipples hardened, thrusting toward him, feeling his gaze like a caress as soft as the fresh flower lei she wore.
He gestured again, and, naughty excitement flooding her, she hooked her fingers in her bikini bottoms and slowly pushed them down until they fell in a soft puddle around her bare feet. As his hot gaze fell to her mons, she caught her breath, trembling with the force of her excitement and arousal. She felt daring, free, and so turned on her legs were weak.
In the perverse way of dreams, she suddenly realized that Dane sat nearby, watching her with an enigmatic look on his tanned face. Clay and Jimmer were there too, smiling avidly.
Uncertainty filled her. She looked back at Malu, and he smiled as Cherie and Jacquie pressed close to him, their hands all over him.
With a whimper of sheer humiliation, Melia turned to run.
In a world of darkness, she is his light.
Blade of Moonlight
© 2012 Kimberly Dean
A Midnight Justice Story
It’s a dark and stormy night, and Luna Masters is in trouble. Buttoned-up court reporter by day, by night she fights crime as Luminescence, drawing power from the moon. No moon, no power…and she’s about to pay with her life.
As her consciousness dims, a man steps from the shadows. But he’s no savior. It’s Scythe, a villain whose reputation for evil is legend. When she awakens, at first she’s surprised to be alive. Then enraged to find herself tied to his bed. Naked.
Scythe is livid. A minor superhero like Luna has no business on his turf, and he plans to enjoy administering punishment, Yet somewhere in the night, pain turns into pleasure…then into something wicked and sexy that shakes them both to the core.
Though Scythe warns her away, Luna’s passion for justice draws her back into the dark, to her masked lover’s side. For good, or evil? Only the dawn will tell…
Warning: Pow! In the clash of good versus evil, villains don’t play nicely. Bam! When captured, superheroines often get tied up. Kablooie! Hot sex may cause mayhem with your e-reader.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Blade of Moonlight:
“You reflect the moon’s light, don’t you, Luminescence?”
No, that wasn’t it, but he was close. She was one with the moon. As it behaved, so did she, but he could never know that about her.
His fingers slid down her breastbone again, and her breaths hitched when he traced the line of the sheet, dangerously close to her nipples. He watched the soft material tent, knowing what he was doing to her. Their gazes connected but, still, she refused to give him anything.
He turned to the hardwood chair beside the bed. She hadn’t even noticed it until he lifted a scrap of material. The bra of her costume dangled from his finger. Her clothes!
His jaw hardened as he toyed with the skimpy top. “That’s why you run around the city in barely more than a bikini, so you can use your power to its full potential. More skin equals more light.”
Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth as she struggled not to say anything. He was getting too close to the truth. Her costume wasn’t so much of a style choice, but a necessity. Under a full moon, she could bring down criminals with only her face and her hands bare. But on a night like this—
Her face. Her head whipped to the side, and she searched the chair, hoping against hope. Her stomach dropped when she spotted her mask draped across its high back. The strip of black m
aterial might cover only her eyes, but it had protected her identity. Until now.
He’d seen her face.
He dropped the bikini top and picked up the black bottoms. They were made of a synthetic material, giving her the lightness and maneuverability of spandex, but the toughness of leather. Using both hands, he stretched them, watching them pull shorter to compensate, and shook his head in a strange combination of anger and disgust.
And undisguised interest.
“And more skin equals more skin. That helps rattle the boys, too, doesn’t it?” His head cocked. “What if you’re going up against a villainess?”
Some of them were distracted, too, but she wasn’t going to go there. Luna glared at him belligerently. Identify him. He knew what she looked like, right down to the birthmark on her right hip. He’d stripped her of everything she had. She had to find a way to expose him.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to go on. He was big, built and sexy. Her thoughts stalled. She shouldn’t find him attractive—not with the situation he’d put her in—but she did. Adrenaline and pheromones were creating a dangerous chemistry. She had to be careful or she’d get pulled into the reaction.
He held her belt now, the one she normally kept wrapped low around her hips. Everything she needed was on that belt, and she ached for it. Her serrated knife, her palm unit and her taser.
Her gaze stuck on the weapon. He’d grabbed her taser for her?
“The boots,” he said gruffly as he crouched.
Luna cringed. For some reason, his examination of her belongings was as personal as if he’d been going over her naked body inch by inch—which she wasn’t quite sure wasn’t next. She wanted to pull everything back, to hide from his attention.
“The boots are something else, though, aren’t they?” His gray gaze suddenly locked with hers. “They get you off.”
Under the covers, her toes curled. How did he know that? How could he have figured that out? Low-heeled boots or runner’s shoes would have been more feasible, more practical. They had just looked so stupid with her skimpy costume, but the high-heeled black boots? They’d made her cream.
She swallowed again, and this time found her mouth wet with saliva. “The stilettos make good weapons.”
“Meaning they bring down any man with a healthy dick.”
He knew he was right. There was a hint of a dark smile on his lips as he looked at her, and Luna was frustrated she couldn’t see more of his face. He might have gotten rid of the Grim Reaper cape, but his head and torso were covered with a form-fitted, one-piece spandex shirt and ski-mask type of garment. It covered the back of his head and came down over his nose and eyes. Only the lower half of his face was revealed, showing a strong jaw and hard lips. Those lips mocked her now.
“Whatever works,” she snapped. The words were out before she could stop them, and they surprised her. She shouldn’t encourage him. She shouldn’t play along—not in this.
“Oh, they do, sweetheart.” He glanced at the front of his dark jeans and shifted in discomfort. “They definitely do.”
He took another harsh breath that seemed to fuel his anger. With a curse, he began to stride around the room again. “What goes on in that head of yours? What makes you think you can go strutting around half-naked—hell, three-quarters naked—in the most dangerous parts of the city and be safe?”
Outrage hit her. She didn’t strut. When she was out at night, she was fully intent on her work. “You know that I have a cape too. It covers me from head to foot.”
“Until you whip it off and give everyone a good look.”
Her teeth ground together. That was to shine the attention on the bad guys—not herself. She did everything she could to keep herself in the background. She knew how to merge with the darkness. She’d always been smart and safe.
Until now.
He turned on her, looming over the end of the bed where her legs were spread wide under the thin sheet. “Do you know what some of those scumbags would do to you if they caught you?”
Her stomach clenched, and her outrage dimmed. The real question was, what was he going to do with her?
She watched him unblinkingly, afraid to move, afraid to say anything that would make him more upset than he already was. His lips might mock her, but his fingers were clenched and his breaths heaved. The stretchy material of his costume clung to a chest that was heavily muscled. In the dark shadows, each hard curve and dip was delineated. His uniform kept him as covered as she was left bared, and the disparity struck her. Dark versus light. Good versus evil.
Her need to see his face grew to a craving. She wanted to know the color of his hair. Was it thick and silky? Dark and wavy? She wanted to touch that chest, with nothing between her fingertips and his skin.
And she knew it was wrong. All of it. He hadn’t rescued her. He’d pulled her further into the depths of danger. All that darkness might be seductive, but temptations were rarely good for you. She knew this man was bad for her, right down to his core.
“I’ll have you put away for this,” she said quietly. “I’ll have you put away for life.”
His expression went even darker. “You and what army?”
“The justice system will be enough.”
A bark of laughter escaped him, the sound rusty and harsh. He moved again and suddenly he was over her, his hands braced on either side of her pillow. “If you believe that, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”
His body hovered inches above hers, close but still too far away. Her body tingled, wanting what it shouldn’t. Then his hand was fisting in the sheet, his knuckles pressing hard between her breasts. When he ripped the covering off her, it was like being splashed with chilled air. He tossed the sheet aside, baring her all the way to her cuffed ankles and pink-painted toenails. Luna arched, wanting to run, wanting to hide, but there was no escape.
His big hand covered one breast, and that cool heat poured through her. “Are you out there fighting for truth and justice, Luminescence, or does the danger just turn you on?”
“You won’t win,” she gasped.
“The hell I won’t.”
He squeezed her nipple hard, but then his touch was gone. It reappeared, lower and hotter. He cupped her pussy and ground the ball of his hand against her. Luna’s thighs quivered. With her legs spread wide, he could touch her however he liked, whenever he liked. Her hips pressed into the mattress as he slid his thumb between her soft, delicate folds. When he lifted it, it was wet.
“What is it that gets you going?” he asked, his voice going steely. “Danger, or me?”
She couldn’t respond. What he was doing was shocking, titillating, and she shouldn’t like it. Couldn’t like it. It went against everything she believed in, everything she’d put herself on the line for, but she couldn’t dispute the evidence.
He bent down over her, his gray eyes turning pewter.
“Danger?” He swirled his thumb deliberately around her clit. “Or me?”
Rolling in the Deep
Cathryn Cade
Desire as deep and dark as the sea…danger as close as a heartbeat.
Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2
Daniel Ho'omalu’s intimidating physique, tribal tattoos and mane of black braids frighten most women before they get close enough to discover he likes to play rough. Pile on his perilous vocation as one of a secret society of island guardians, and he’s painfully aware he may never find a mate.
One look at Daniel, and Claire Hunter knows she’s found the man of her sensual dreams. Without hesitation she sinks her teeth into the challenge of landing the big Hawaiian in her bed. But while he clearly wants her, he won’t bite back.
Daniel is certain the beautiful haole is too young and innocent to handle his dark sexual needs. Despite their determination to ignore each other, the island casts its spell, and in one explosive night, Daniel learns that Claire is more than a match for him in every way.
When Daniel must leave her side and dive to the depths
of the sea to foil a gang of drug smugglers, Claire trusts that their powerful bond will bring her lover back safely to her arms. But his vow of honor to protect his people could be the one thing that breaks her heart.
Warning: Big, hot, tattooed Hawaiian hero who likes it rough—in bed and on the beach. Going deep takes on a whole new meaning in this tropical heat wave.
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Rolling in the Deep
Copyright © 2012 by Cathryn Cade
ISBN: 978-1-61921-103-2
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Kim Killion
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: July 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten