Sacred Places

by Mandy M. Roth

  It was then she learned she was carrying Coyle Junior. When Deri had first told Coyle he was going to be a father, he passed out cold. Thankfully, Korey was nearby and helped to get Coyle to bed. He also never let Coyle live it down. The joke had been on Korey when Deri went into labor and he took his turn passing out. Gigi held the men together, forcing them to focus, and the birth went over without a hitch. It was also the day they learned from Coyle’s grandmother that Deri was also immortal. Having accepted Coyle’s seed allowed her to share in his essence, his life force, his immortality. Their children were also immortal.

  So much had changed in her life since her arrival in Grove Bluff. She didn’t want to think about what life would have been like had she not ended up there. The idea of spending even one day of her immortal life without Coyle by her side sickened her. She loved the man more than life itself.

  “Mmm, aye, it is good I passed yer family’s test. Although,” Coyle held tight to her and glanced down the length of her body, “had I nae, I’d have simply run away with you, Deri. Yer mine. Remind me again to kill that bastard cousin of mine for putting the fear of the gods in me with his threatening note.”

  Soon after Coyle first claimed her, Korey confessed to being the one who left the parchment pinned to the safe. Coyle had been furious with him. Deri, on the other hand, had understood Korey’s motives. The man wanted to assure Coyle followed through and didn’t back out. The only way to do that was to threaten Coyle with the reality of losing her.

  Deri stroked her husband’s sweaty chest and smiled. “You mean his prank. A prank that did what he intended it to do, force you to take the steps necessary to claim me. A prank he knew I was smart enough not to read all of since he knew I was a witch.”

  He balked. “I would have claimed you on my own. I dinnae need Korey meddling—”

  Putting her hand to his lips, Deri silenced Coyle. “And we will always be thankful to him for assuring you couldn’t back out, right?”

  He thrust into her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Coyle pressed his lips to her forehead and held himself firm within her. “Aye, lass, that we will. Now, if you do nae mind, I’d like to get back to loving you.”

  THE END

  About the Author, Mandy M. Roth

  Mandy M. Roth grew up fascinated by creatures that go bump in the night. From the very beginning, she showed signs of creativity—writing, painting, telling scary stories that left her little brother afraid to come out from under his bed. Combining her creativity with her passion for the paranormal has left her banging on the keyboard into the wee hours of the night.

  She’s a self-proclaimed Goonie, loves 80s music and movies and wishes leg warmers would come back into fashion. She also thinks the movie The Breakfast Club should be mandatory viewing for...okay, everyone. When she's not dancing around her office to the sounds of the 80s or writing books, she can be found designing book covers for New York publishers, small presses, and indie authors.

  Mandy writes for The Raven Books, Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Harlequin Spice, Pocket Books and Random House/Virgin/Black Lace. Mandy also writes under the pen names Reagan Hawk, Mandy Balde, Rory Michaels and Kennedy Kovit.

  To learn more about Mandy, please visit http://www.mandyroth.com or send an email to mandy@mandyroth.com.

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  Act of Mercy (PSI-Ops Series / Immortal Ops)

  Book One in the PSI-Ops Series

  Paranormal Security and Intelligence Operative Duke Marlow has a new mission: find, interrogate and possibly eliminate the target—Mercy Deluca. He knows looks can be deceiving, but it's hard to believe the beautifully quirky woman running around in a superhero t-shirt is a viable threat. The sexy little biomedical engineer quickly proves she is more than he bargained for and Intel has it all wrong—she’s not the enemy. Far from it. Intel also forgot to mention one vital piece of information—she’s Duke’s mate. This immortal alpha werewolf doesn’t take kindly to her being in danger.

  When Mercy accepted a position within Donavon Dynamics Corporation, she thought it was to help cure disease and to make a difference for mankind. She had no idea what her new career path truly entailed—monsters masquerading under the guise of scientific research. Unable to stomach the atrocities she’s uncovered, she reaches out through what she hopes is the proper channels, asking for help. Mercy gets more than she bargained for when a team of paranormal hotties show up on her doorstep ready to take down the Corporation. One in particular is able to get under her skin, both aggravating and exciting her in ways she can’t explain.

  Excerpt from Act of Mercy (PSI-Ops Series / Immortal Ops)

  by Mandy M. Roth

  Paranormal Security and Intelligence Division B Headquarters, classified location…

  Duke Marlow stretched the two typing fingers he used because he wasn’t exactly gifted in the way of a keyboard, and hunted and pecked the last of the reports that’d been due in to his handler—who also happened to be captain of his ops team—several days prior. With Duke’s reluctance to do any type of recordkeeping, let alone the kind that involved a computer, his handler would be happy to see the files this quickly. Duke was actually at least one month early if anyone went off his past turn-in dates, or the fact that occasionally he never turned in a report at all. The idea of leaving the damn things to sit for a few more weeks had crossed his mind.

  That would piss Corbin off for sure.

  Corbin Jones headed one of the many Paranormal Security and Intelligence Operative Teams (PSI-Op) and Duke already knew he was Corbin’s most trying team member. He wore the badge with honor. What could he say? After knowing the guy well over a hundred years, he had to do all he could to keep their working relationship interesting. Plus, Duke was set in his ways. He didn’t embrace change.

  Never had.

  Besides, he enjoyed getting under Corbin’s skin. Corbin was a lion shifter, and everyone knew cats and dogs didn’t mix well together. As a full-blooded, born werewolf, Duke tended to get a kick out of giving Corbin as hard a time as possible.

  Came pretty easy to him and that nearly took the fun out of it.

  Nearly, but not quite.

  And Corbin looked like a blond underwear model. That alone was grounds to be given a hard time.

  The phone on his desk rang, drawing him from his thoughts. He sighed. He disliked the phones at PSI. Too many buttons. Too many options. It was never just answer and be done. They had people who normally handled routing the calls. Without them, Duke would be totally and completely lost. It was way after hours and he knew there was still a group who worked somewhere in the building, handling these types of things. What he couldn’t figure out was why they’d send a call his way. Corbin had taken Duke’s phone privileges away when he’d told a conference call full of people to get bent. He’d then followed that up with the suggestion they lick his balls.

  Corbin hadn’t been amused and said Duke lacked anything in the way of phone etiquette. Duke could have told him that to start with.

  He answered the phone. Hell, the apocalypse could be starting and Duke suspected Corbin wouldn’t want him getting called over it. “What?”

  There was silence on the other end. Duke waited a fraction of a second and hung up the phone. He wasn’t in the mood for bullshit. If it was important, they’d call back.

  The phone rang again.

  “What?” he practically shouted as he answered it again.

  “Hello?” came a voice that was soft and sweet, extremely feminine and hot as hell, making his loins stir, surprising him. “I was told to call. Did you get the information I sent?”

  As much as the voice moved him, its owner was making no sense.
“What?”

  “Do you know how to say anything else?” she asked, sounding annoyed with him. Most people tended to after short bursts.

  He stiffened. “You called to give me crap? Striker put you up to this, didn’t he?”

  “Striker?” There was beeping on her end. “I can’t talk long. They’ll hear me.”

  “Woman, you’re not making any sense.” But damn if her voice wasn’t making him hot and bothered. He was nearly ashamed of his reaction to her. It wasn’t like he made a habit of getting a hard-on for random callers. The idea of phone sex had held little appeal to him before but now, hearing this woman’s voice, he was fast changing his outlook on it.

  “I need to know if you’re them,” she said.

  “Them who?” As turned on as he was, he had reports to get done and the conversation wasn’t going the route of phone sex so it needed to end sooner rather than later.

  “Them. The one Test Subject 87P told me to send the information to,” she insisted.

  Great.

  Sexy voice and bat-shit crazy. Just his luck. He hung up on her. Whatever game Striker was playing wouldn’t work. Duke was busy. Too busy even for hot voices with riddles.

  Duke rotated his neck, running his hands through his shoulder-length dark hair, working out a kink as he sniffed the air, the wolf in him catching the scent of pending rain.

  Good.

  The area needed some rain. He grinned, knowing he’d be running free in it soon enough. Well, as soon as he finished this damn paperwork. He didn’t understand the point of it. It wasn’t like the organization existed to anyone who asked about it—not that anyone even would. They were ghosts. Operatives who never were and never would be, at least on paper.

  What the fuck did they want with a paper trail then? Did they enjoy redacting crap later? Maybe the guys who sat around drawing black lines through important information had blackmail photos of people in high positions and threatened to expose them if they didn’t get enough papers passing across their desk.

  Made no sense to him.

  Not much involving the people running the PSI show did.

  Seemed like they’d be keen on keeping no records. Records proved a lot. Immortals tended to avoid them, photographs and the like. It was getting harder and harder to hide in the open. The fucking internet was a curse as far as he was concerned. You wouldn’t catch supernaturals taking pictures of themselves and posting them on the internet.

  Most supernaturals took great care to reinvent themselves every so many decades. It threw off suspicions. He’d been the sole beneficiary of his own fortune several times over already.

  Duke liked to reinvent himself, as far as the human public was concerned, every twenty to twenty-five years. That was as long as he could pull off not aging. That was hard. Most supernaturals kept it around fifteen years. Then, they’d go off the grid for just as many. In the beginning it had been hard knowing he’d never be able to see the human friends he’d made within that invented persona’s lifespan. With time, it got easier and he found himself befriending fewer and fewer humans to avoid issues at a later date.

  PSI gave him a network of supernaturals in like situations. That was part of why he stayed, despite the technology advances and dumbass higher-ups. He liked the good they did as well, but he’d rather everyone not catch on to that tidbit.

  Do-gooder didn’t fit his manly code.

  It was simply easier to hang with others like him. He was young as far as PSI was concerned. And he was hardly a pup. Most of the people within the organization had been part of it a hell of a long time. Longer than any administration had been in control of the White House. From what Duke had been told, longer than there had even been a White House. They operated above the law and didn’t answer to anyone but themselves. Certain people within positions of power in the government were on a need-to-know basis regarding PSI-Ops.

  Most didn’t need to know jack shit, so they didn’t.

  Duke liked it that way.

  The ones in the loop were supernaturals, hiding in the open in front of humans. Duke nearly laughed at the thought of it all. He’d seen enough humans freak out over the course of his lifespan to know they couldn’t take the truth. Hell, they couldn’t handle much at all, let alone knowledge of immortality.

  Immortality.

  The idea would lead one to think of eternal life. Of invincibility. Nah. That wasn’t how it was. It just meant an immortal was harder to kill and tended to live a lot longer than a mortal. Enough of his family and friends had fallen to know they could be killed.

  Time and volume did nothing to lessen the losses. And there always seemed to be more losses ready to pick open the scabs of the old ones.

  He hated people who died.

  Hated them.

  The phone rang again and Duke’s already thin temper wore through. He snatched the receiver up and put it to his ear. “What!”

  “Please, I need to know if you’re them,” came the sexy-as-all-get-out voice.

  His nostrils flared. “Woman, this is a private line reserved for shit you can’t possibly wrap your mind around. Stop using it for your crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy.”

  “Oh, you just go around talking about test subjects all the time?” he asked. “Let me guess, you were taken by aliens who did naughty things to you.”

  “I’m sorry, what?” she responded, huffing.

  “Hey, if it’s an anal probing you’re after, I’d be happy to volunteer.”

  “You are a pig,” she shouted back.

  “No. I’m a wolf. So, is that a yes or no to the anal probing?” Damn, she had a hot voice and he’d love to have her bent over before him. His dick throbbed at the idea.

  “Jerk!” she yelled before hanging up on him.

  Whatever.

  For more information about these titles and other bestselling Mandy M. Roth titles please visit www.MandyRoth.com

  The Impatient Lord by Michelle M. Pillow

  Bestselling Dragon Shifter Romance

  An unlucky bride…

  Riona Grey lives life on her own terms, traveling wherever the next spaceship is flying and doing what she must in order to get by. When her luck turns sour, she finds herself on a bridal ship heading to a marriage ceremony. A planet full of dragon shifters seeking mates wasn't exactly what she had in mind as a final destination. Just when she thinks things couldn't possibly get worse, she wakes up months later in an isolation chamber with a sexy, hovering dragon shifter by her side telling her they're meant to be together...forever.

  The impatient groom...

  After years of failed marriage attempts at the Breeding Festivals, the gods finally revealed Lord Mirek's bride...a day too late. Eager to have her, he defied tradition and laid claim. But it is a mistake to go against the gods and his new wife was the one to pay the price of his impatience.

  Now almost a year later, his bride is finally waking from her deep sleep. With one look from her, he feels the eagerness to claim her overtaking him once more. Fearful she'll slip through his grasp once again, he's hesitant to anger the gods by taking her to his bed too soon. But, how can he resist the one thing that would make his life complete, especially when she looks at him with eyes of a seductress? This is one test he can't fail, and yet with one of her sweet kisses he knows he may already have lost.

  The Impatient Lord (Dragon Lords) Excerpt

  “What happened to you?” Alek eyed Mirek in concern. “Did you have to wrestle negotiate with the Syog again?”

  “My wife.” Mirek stopped his slow, ambling walk and leaned against the corridor wall. Not that he would complain, but Riona had taken to intimacy with a vivacious force he’d ever dreamed possible. “She’s, ah, fully recovered now.”

  Alek quirked a brow. It took him a long moment to understand what was happening. His concern turned into hard, full laughter. He clutched his stomach and bent over, struggling to breathe.

  “What’s going on out here?” Bron appeared from the sc
roll room, holding a stack of yellowed parchments. He eyed his brothers curiously.

  “Lady…learned…sex…balls,” was about all of Alek’s answer they could understand.

  Mirek grimaced. He should have known better than to admit soreness to one of his brothers. Why hadn’t he lied and said he’d been getting his privates kicked in a Syog ball racking negotiation? It would have been an easy lie. Those aliens were rough on the manhood, even if they used a semi-protective plate. No one would have questioned his claim. They would have still laughed at him, but they would have believed him.

  “Mirek?” Bron asked in concern.

  “Riona, ah—” Mirek began.

  “He can’t handle…his wife,” Alek interrupted in merriment. “He’s walking like this.” Alek ambled around the hall like an old man with a cane, stumbling all the more in his fit of laughter.

  Bron arched a brow and nodded his head. “Nicely done. We’ll have another nephew to add to the family soon. Well done, brother.”

  “If she didn’t break him,” Alek inserted. “I always suspected you were a little soft, Ambassador. All that flying in space and drinking lady wine with the aliens.”

  Mirek shoved Alek into a wall. It didn’t stop the laughter as the man slid to the floor. “At least I don’t smell like a ceffyl herd.”

  “I deserve that,” Alek admitted, not bothering to stand as he grinned up at them. A change had come over him since his marriage. He was happier and smiled more. Whatever Kendall had done to her husband, she’d managed to tame the stubborn man.