Grateful to have no witnesses to his stealthy entrance, he tried the knob and discovered it was unlocked. He ducked inside the small corridor. Judging from the noise and clatter coming from the adjacent room, he was on the other side of the kitchen. He ambled in the direction of the white double doors in the distance. The ironic symbol of those doors wasn’t something he failed to catch—the innocent purity ready to bar admittance to the evil dark demon. He was half tempted to propel the things open with one fell kick. Show ’em who was boss.
Unfortunately, it’d probably only make him look like a jackass with a strange grudge against doors. Not to mention it’d draw unwanted attention. Slightly disappointed at the necessity of using the handle, he walked out into a much larger hallway filled with costumed revelers. Chatter was loud and boisterous. No one paid him much mind as he made his way through the throng.
A dude in servant livery sidestepped a pair of lovebirds locked in an embrace. Sam stole one of the bottles of beer from the guy’s tray before striding in the direction where the majority of partiers seemed to be headed. He took a swallow of the microbrew and walked into the crowded ballroom. The alcohol went down hard as the headache-inducing chorus of Funkytown pounded his eardrums at a decibel easily heard the next county over. His temples throbbing in tempo with the beat, he gaped at the dancers grooving joyously in the middle of the cavernous ballroom. What fresh hell is this?
Ignoring the consuming need to turn tail and run his ass as fast as he could out of there, he ventured deeper into the overcrowded space. Enthusiastic dancers jostled him on all sides. He’d never been more aggravated with humans in his life. And considering some of the assholes he’d had to deal with, that was saying a hell of a lot. He maneuvered around a guy dressed like Elvis who was doing some kind of weird flapping chicken dance.
These people shouldn’t be allowed out in public. Smothering his growl—and the urge to punch Elvis in the side of the head—Sam approached the bar. A spot opened, and he took over the space. Plunking the empty bottle down, he held up a finger, giving the bartender the signal for a replacement beer. Drumming his other hand on top of the bar, Sam glanced down. He cocked an eyebrow when he realized he was tapping the lid of a coffin. Despite his foul mood, he grinned. Okay, the music sucked donkey dong, but at least the decorations were cool.
The bartender deposited a newly opened bottle of Budweiser in front of Sam. Glancing toward the overflowing tip container, Sam grimaced. Shit. He hadn’t brought his wallet. If he didn’t leave a buck or something, he’d look like a damn cheapskate. Digging in his pocket, he grabbed one of the condom packets and flipped it into the jar. He grabbed his beer and quickly pivoted—right into the woman rushing toward the bar. She smacked into him, spilling her drink on his shirt.
“Oh goddess, I’m so sorry.” She looked up at him and gasped, her big blue eyes widening.
Even with her glorious blonde hair half hidden beneath an ivy wreath and glitter sprinkling her face, he’d recognize his rescuer anywhere. Their stares remained fused on each other. Although he’d known there was a strong chance she’d be here, he’d held out hope they wouldn’t run into each other. That right there had been his first mistake. It was damn well a universal law that if there was a way for something to fuck up his plans, it was gonna happen. His second mistake had been assuming a clear head would mellow his reaction to her. The exact opposite proved true. He held his breath, trying without success not to drag in her delicious scent.
A clumsy dancer knocked into them and propelled her against Sam’s chest. Breaking from the spell of stunned silence that’d apparently held her hostage, she blinked at him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a fierce whisper, her fingers clutching his waist.
“Enjoying the party.” Shit, that had to be the biggest lie he’d ever uttered. Although having her wedged against him might prove to be the highlight of his night.
“Are you insane?” The question must have only been rhetorical because she looked away from him and darted a furtive glance to the sea of bodies moving around them. Panic tightening her features, she jerked her attention to him and let go of his soaked T-shirt. Her empty glass fell from her fingers and slammed against the toe of his boot before rolling to the floor between their feet. She inched backwards. “Y-you can’t be here, Samael.”
He stared at her. “How the hell do you know who I am?”
She swallowed, the slender muscles in her throat working. “I—I heard Jasper call your name. So I looked you up in the registry.”
These damn witches had a registry on him? Then again, should he be surprised? They were aggravating, meddlesome creatures.
She took another tiny step back, and her gaze slashed to the left again. He narrowed his eyes. A waiter passed by, and Sam thunked his full beer on the silver tray before advancing on her with grim purpose. “What, precisely, did you find out about me?”
“Enough.”
Another exuberant dancer whirled into her, jostling her sideways. The individual laughed and swung a scrawny arm around her waist. “There you are, Marabella.”
Sam glared at the sandy-haired pipsqueak. For fuck’s sake, the dude was wearing fangs and glitter. What was the damn world coming to?
Twinkle Toes frowned at Marabella when she didn’t respond to him. He followed her gaze to Sam, and his frown deepened. “Who’re you?”
Your worst nightmare, Glitter Boy. “Her date. What the fuck is it to you?”
“No you’re not.” Scowling, the kid turned toward Marabella. “Is this guy bugging you?”
Worried she was seconds away from blowing his impromptu cover, Sam tugged Marabella into his arms. “She loves it when I bug her, don’t ya, snookums?”
She gaped at him, and he read the panic flashing in her eyes. Her lips parted, the threat of exposure likely milliseconds from popping free.
Desperation had cornered him into committing plenty of half-baked, moronic acts. None of them came remotely close to the stupid asshatery of what he was about to do. Sliding his hands through the loose tendrils of hair framing her head, he leaned down and crushed his mouth over hers. He swallowed her shocked gasp. Her sweet, addictive taste immediately invaded his senses, firing his awareness of her into hyperdrive.
What started as a means of keeping her from revealing his identity quickly morphed into something far more primal and elemental. He thrust past her lips, his tongue seeking hers. She submitted with a hunger that nearly matched his, leaning into him so her delectable breasts pillowed his chest. He grazed a hand along her shoulder and dipped beneath her elbow to cup the side of one plump mound. She moaned breathlessly.
He didn’t know how long they stood there devouring each other. It wasn’t until a pointed cough intruded on the moment that he recalled they had an audience.
“Okay, guess you are her date.”
Sam broke the kiss in time to see Glitter Boy sidling away. Returning his scrutiny to Marabella, he noticed the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the dilation of her pupils. Wariness warred with the equally fierce need burning in the pit of his belly. He took a staggering step backward, his heart tripping more than his feet as one word clanged inside his head and raged inside his soul, repelling as much as it beckoned.
Mine.
In Pursuit of Prey
Savannah Jordan
Her prey is within her grasp…but this one has a few tricks of his own.
Of Gods and Consorts, Book 1
Sekhmet is on the prowl for a new consort. Over the course of an eternity, the Egyptian goddess has filled her divine bed with easy sexual conquests, but each encounter has left her heart more hollow and empty.
Now she’s stalking something challenging. Something complicated. Finally, prey that makes her purr with anticipation, prey that’s worthy of her predatory nature. A human soul.
For his band’s success, Mace Reynard made a deal with a succubus, and now she’s draining his life away, one screw at a time. After the latest encounter, he needs to
recharge and rethink his life…until a goddess drops into it and uses all four of her sexy little cat feet to complicate the hell out of it.
The sexual and emotional kismet between them is more than either of them ever thought possible, but the succubus isn’t giving up her meal ticket without a fight. All she needs is one little rift between the entangled lovers to swoop in and erase Mace’s heartache—and his memories. Forever.
This book has been previously published.
Warning: Get your towels ready! This story has a sex goddess, a rock singer with a penchant for powerful women, and sex hot enough to make you want to share a shower with them.
eBooks are not transferable.
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
In Pursuit of Prey
Copyright © 2012 by Savannah Jordan
ISBN: 978-1-60928-929-4
Edited by Amy Sherwood
Cover by Kanaxa
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: June 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
About the Author
Look for these titles by Savannah Jordan
Also Available from Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
Copyright Page
In Pursuit of Prey: Of Gods and Consorts, Book 1 Page 9