Night's Promise
Page 20
“Not many call me a liar without punishment. If Jaine or Art were here, you’d already be bleeding.”
“Yes, my lord. Based on my brief encounter with your formidable sister, I believe you.”
“Now my hair.”
“What about it?”
“Brush it.” He rolled his eyes at her.
“This is fucking awful, Lord.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
Silver went to the dresser, grabbed a brush, and pulled a cushion behind Jetre’s. She brushed his beautiful hair, wishing she could bury her face in it.
He turned suddenly and grabbed her by the neck. “I heard that.”
She cried out softly, even though he didn’t hurt her.
“They’ll have to wait a few minutes more.”
He found her six feet under and
unearthed a passion beyond their wildest dreams.
Six Feet Under
(c) 2006 Mackenzie McKade
Available Now at Samhain Publishing.
Buried six feet deep is not what private investigator Charlene Madison, had expected when she agreed to meet an informant at New Orleans’ most famous cemetery. Neither was encountering the devil himself when Devin Leduc rescues her, only to imprison her in his arms. She can’t explain her attraction to him, especially once he reveals his secret.
After centuries of darkness, Devin has found his light. Charlene makes his body burn with desire, along with his temper when her penchant for justice and her stubborn nature lead her straight into danger.
Together they will unmask a killer and discover a love so fulfilling, nothing, not even death, will quench the flames of passion.
Enjoy this Excerpt:
Devin caught Charlene as her knees buckled. The concussion and the events of the previous night were obviously too much. He sensed her anguish. Knew she struggled with what had happened to her last night. At least he could ease her physical sufferings.
Cradling her in his arms, he sat in an armless chair next to the hearth and held her close as she fought the pain. The low, agonizing mewling sounds escaping her lips tore at his heart. Damn if the woman wasn’t already getting beneath his skin. He couldn’t bear her distress.
Gently, he touched her mind, sending his energy into a large mass that entered her body, looking for the traumatized membrane. Thankfully, the hardheaded woman’s skull wasn’t cracked. No signs of a hematoma. Like a wisp of smoke, he weaved around the gray mass of nerve tissue until he found the bruised and swollen injury on the right side of her cerebrum. Without delay, he used his magic to relieve the pressure, working with energy and light to speed up the healing process. Energy came in all types of resources like natural elements, sunlight and heat. The mind only needed to call upon them to extract their properties and strength, and then focus it inwardly.
While inside her body, he chanted the curative words of restoration. There was wealth in the elements that humans ignored. Not so with his kind. They cherished the gifts the earth offered.
Exhausted, but satisfied she would not experience any more outbursts of pain, he pulled from her mind.
Awake, but somewhat drowsy, she muttered, “How do you do that?”
“How do I do what?” Devin asked, his fingers slipping through her damp hair. It was cool to the touch as he twirled a lock around his index finger and then brought it to his lips. He settled back, content with the cozy setting and the sexy woman in his arms.
“How is it that you talk to me without words, touch me without hands?” Puzzled blue eyes gazed up at him. “It is you, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. His fingers unconsciously circled her neck, his thumb stroking the pulsing vein. The blood vessel throbbed with each contraction of her heart. God, he wanted to taste her.
“Yes, petite guerrier, it is I who speaks to you.”
“How do you do it?” She stirred, shifting her weight in his lap, stimulating a response from his lower half. His free hand stilled her. Yet the tightness in his body and throat continued.
“I was born with the ability. Mind over matter.” His words forced between clenched teeth. Yes, mind over matter. And right now his mind was exactly where it mattered—right between his legs—or more accurately he was thinking about what was between hers.
Her forehead wrinkled. “You know, I should fight you for keeping me here against my will.”
“You are free to go,” he lied, drawing her closer to his heated body. He loved the feel of her rounded bottom pressed against his stirring cock. Like a kitten she curled up in his lap. His shirt completely covered her legs, with the exception of the bright pink-painted toenails peeking out. She was simply adorable.
Although he had requested Millie to purchase clothing and incidentals for Charlene, he wanted her to wear his shirt. Something of his against her silky skin, sliding across her body, touching her most intimate parts, his scent on her at all times—a mark of his territory.
“Why do you call me ‘little warrior’?” Charlee snuggled her cheek closer against his chest.
The innocent gesture set off a bolt of electricity, white lightning, zapping through his body and setting him afire.
The whoosh of blood singing through her veins rose in volume. He listened to its rhythmic tone, whoosh-whoosh, music to his ears as it pumped through the chambers of her heart.
Mine. The thought made his cock tighten beyond comfort. Sweet pain imploded in his mouth, blood, his own, trickled down his throat. He could barely keep his hands from caressing and touching her.
He attempted to speak, his voice a gravelly mixture of sexual hunger and desire. “You speak French?” The sharp points of his incisors pricked his bottom lip.
“A little. College elective.”
“I call you petite guerrier, little warrior, because you are bold, daring, fearless. Even when you thought death approached, you faced it like a warrior.”
Her voice was soft, sleepy. “Why did you save me, only to imprison me?” She yawned.
“Because you are mine,” he said decisively to leave no doubt in her mind.
She tensed, pushing away from his chest. Her head rose, heavy lids widened as she met his gaze. Amazingly, she weakened the energy he used to relax her as she took control of her body. “I am no man’s property,” she ground out. Her eyes sparked with an intensity that made him smile.
“Ah, but, ma cherie, you are. Your body was created for mine. Your lips are incomplete without mine pressed against them. We are two halves of a whole. When I make love to you, and do not doubt I will, you shall see that this is to be.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re arrogant, cocky, too sure of yourself?”
“Mmmm… Let me think.” He smiled down upon her. She was small, delicate, perfect. “Yes, I believe I have heard those words before.” His hand slipped beneath the shirt she wore and began to gently stroke her calf. It pleased him that she didn’t shy away from his touch. The only sign of discomfort was her teeth worrying a corner of her bottom lip.
“Who are you?” she asked with a mark of trepidation.
“Devin Leduc, your mate.” His hand moved to feel the tender skin at the bend of her knee.
She snorted. “Mate? A little old-fashioned, don’t you think?” She paused in thought. “No, really, why were you in the cemetery and how was it that you found me?”
Her brows dipped in frustration as his fingers played across her skin. She swatted at his hand.
Happiness consumed him. He had searched a lifetime for her. The angel curled in his lap was the other half of his soul. “Your scent.” He continued his journey up her leg.
“Scent?” He heard the skepticism in her voice.
“It called to me. There is nothing more alluring than the scent of a woman.” The inside of her thighs were soft, warm, until she clenched them together, trapping his hand.
She cocked a brow. “Like a bitch dog in heat?”
Devin choked back his laughter. He tugged his hand, eager to continue
his pursuit. “No, each woman has a unique perfume of her own. From the soaps, shampoos and lotions she uses to the fabric softener in her clothes. Even the type of foods she eats makes up her essence.”
He pulled again at his caged hand. Her thigh muscles tightened. She smiled at him. It was tentative and trembling, but it was a smile expressing her triumph.
“But the fragrance of a mate, especially when she is excited or aroused…” he paused, devilishly moving his fingers enticingly, “…ah…is formidable. Her pores unfurl like the petals of a beautiful rose, emitting a stimulating aroma that draws her mate to her side. As you did me,” he added before he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. “Mmm… Do you taste as good as you smell?”
Before she could respond he moved his mouth to hers—his firm, hers soft and pliable. His tongue delved beyond her lips and teeth to taste the honey that awaited him. Sweet, heavenly, she was an aphrodisiac to his senses, stealing his breath as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.
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