His response was to rid me of my pants, leaving me to tower over him nude. The sight of Henri with his pants half off and his shirt half on shot tremors racing up my thighs. I tightened my grip on his shoulders.
“If I kiss every inch of your legs in apology,” he asked, “will you forgive me that comment?”
“Hmm.” I stroked his cheek. “Why don’t you try to convince me of your sincerity?”
Starting at my knee, he kissed his way upward. He parted my thighs while his lips strayed to the inside of my leg where his fangs rasped over supple flesh. Cold sweat blossomed over my skin as he tormented me. My eyes shut as I tried blocking out my anticipation, but sweetened the sting instead.
He struck, sheathing his teeth and flooding me with more venom, until I was drunk on him.
My knees buckled, and I slumped down his back. He cupped my bottom, setting me on the edge of the bench and pinning my shoulder against the wall with his right palm as his left hand smoothed the spot throbbing from his bite. As his hand drifted higher, I scooted farther off the bench, meeting his seeking fingers with my eager sex. The first touch made me whimper. The second made me come undone. His venom circulated through me, awakening each nerve ending until I ached.
Burying his face at my neck, Henri pressed tender kisses there.
“No.” I shook my head. “Keep your fangs to yourself.” Pleasure was a nip away, and it was all I could do not to arch my throat and beg for more. “If you bite me again, I’ll have to tie your fangs in a knot. I can barely feel my toes.”
His response was a red-faced grin.
“Now this…” I shoved his pants down below his knees, “…this I want to feel.”
When my hand closed around his erection, Henri jolted. Each stroke after that glazed his eyes. It was addictive to bring him pleasure, to watch while desire darkened his gaze and strangled his voice.
“Come here.” I patted the spot beside me, grinning at his dazed expression.
Once he sat next to me, I planted my palm in the center of his chest and urged him on his back, climbing up his body as he reclined on the bench. His head hit the cushion, and I braced my knees to either side of his hips. He gripped my thighs, fingers digging into my skin. Holding my gaze, he eased one hand between us, brushing his fingertips across my sex before fisting his erection and sheathing it in me. I braced on Henri’s shoulders, unable to look away from him. He guided my hips in a rhythm he met with hard thrusts designed to wring harsh moans from me. With his venom pumping in my veins and his body beneath mine, I was lost. I clung by a thread until his grip tightened and he pulled me flush against him. He groaned my name when he came, and his pleasure tipped me back into orgasm.
I slumped over him, resting my chin on his shoulder, feeling his heart thump beneath my hand. “We should have brought my chair.” I pressed slow kisses to his salty skin. “I can’t walk after that.”
He turned his head and brushed his lips over mine. “I’m not sure if I can either.”
“Let’s just lie here then,” I suggested. “Someone will notice we’re missing and come looking.”
We shared a look. “Ghedi,” we said in unison.
Henri grasped my hips before I rolled off him. “Let’s stay a moment longer.”
Easily persuaded, I stretched languorously over the top of him. “If you insist.”
He cupped my arse and squeezed. “I like this agreeable side of yours.”
I snorted. “I don’t think that counts as a side. It’s more of a bottom.”
“So it is.” He stroked his fingers up my spine. His teeth scraped the column of my throat.
I gasped, forcing my mind back on task. “No. Absolutely not. Not again.”
He did it again.
Fangs slid into my skin. Venom tingled through me, reawakening my desire for him.
“All right,” I said, sinking my hands into his hair. “Maybe just once more.”
About the Author
Hailey is a wife turned mother turned writer, who loves her husband, her daughter and alone time with her computer. Whenever southern living strikes her as too ordinary, she can be found squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after or with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen. Wings and/or cupcakes are usually involved.
She loves to hear from readers at [email protected].
You can also swing by www.haileyedwards.net for all her latest news.
Look for these titles by Hailey Edwards
Now Available:
Daughters of Askara
Everlong
Evermine
Eversworn
Araneae Nation
A Hint of Frost
A Feast of Souls
A Cast of Shadows
A Time of Dying
Steal the salt. Bind the grimoire. Escape the male.
Eversworn
© 2012 Hailey Edwards
Daughters of Askara, Book 3
When an exchange of stolen goods in the Feriana marketplace turns sour, Isabeau stumbles from the encounter bruised and laden with new orders to complete an even larger heist. With her child’s life at stake, there’s no room for error—or allies.
Armed with a lethal book of spells, she strikes a dangerous bargain with Roland Bernhard. Steal a shipment of salt from the Feriana colony, and she’ll have her freedom—and her daughter. It’s all she’s ever wanted. At least it was…until she runs into Dillon Preston.
Dillon is out of commission after a mine explosion, and itching for a distraction. He gets it when the female who saved his leg arrives at the colony with nothing but flimsy excuses and even flimsier attire. She’s after something, but is it him—or the salt?
Trapped in a desperate bid to gain true freedom, Isabeau is willing to sacrifice her life for her daughter’s, but Dillon has other plans. He wants a package deal, and he’s not willing to lose either female, even if it means the future king of Sere’s head will roll.
Warning: This title contains a heroine desperate to save her daughter and a hero determined to make them a family. It also includes wings, horns and other assorted appendages.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Eversworn:
“Don’t play with me. I promise you won’t like the outcome.” Fisting the front of my shirt, he dragged me precious inches nearer. “Answer me.” His voice lowered. “What kind of male lets his female take all the risks and then leaves her alone in the desert?” He was careful of me. Not gentle, not rough, either. He took pains not to hurt me. Yet. He snarled, “Where is your mate?”
I shoved at him. “I don’t have one.”
His lips parted, and I waited for his next accusation.
None came. His grip tightened as he dragged me closer. “Damn you.” His head lowered, and his mouth covered mine. His lips were hard, his kiss angry. One arm circled my back and flattened me to him while his other hand tangled his fingers in my hair. Most of it had fallen loose, and he wound the thick strands around his fist and tore our mouths apart. Panting hard, he scowled down at me as if this were all somehow my fault. He was tense, and his fury vibrated along his skin. I pushed at his chest in an effort to put space between us, but he wasn’t having any of it. He molded me to him until his heartbeat pounded on my chest. His eyes were mirror-bright and full silver. It was a small crack in his glamour, his second today. What did that mean?
“Let me go, please.” I shoved at him again. “I’ll answer what questions I can, I promise.”
“I don’t think I can.” Burying his face in my neck, he inhaled. His tongue slipped out to lick the sweat from my skin, and my lungs deflated on a sigh that coaxed a pained groan from Dillon.
He shivered in my arms, and I held him, stroking across his shoulder and down his back as my mind churned with possibilities. “How are you feeling?” The cut to his neck might explain his fevered skin and racing heart. I had a theory that his time on Earth had lowered his resistance to bacteria native to Askara. Exposure to a new strain could make hi
s old ailments flair, I thought.
“Just…give me…a minute.” Heavy panting dampened my neck, but his grip loosened and he managed to pull back and glare down at me. “Don’t move.” He stumbled from me. “I need air.” He pointed to the bench. “Sit your ass down.” He cupped the back of his neck as he turned.
“Wait.” I ran forward and touched his elbow. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t need your help.” His growl froze me in my tracks. “Don’t touch me.”
I would have said he was the one having trouble keeping his hands to himself, but I could use the reprieve. He could get his air and clear his head while I used his absence to clear mine. I watched him stalk to the mouth of the cave. If I so much as took a step, he would hear me. Even with his leg still on the mend, he wasn’t a male I wanted to cross. I wasn’t going to go anywhere.
Time for a new plan. I sat on the bench and rested my head against the wall of the mine. He had brought me down here rather than turn me in for a reason. Whether it was his sickness or something else, I couldn’t say. Tucking my locket into my top, I brushed skin instead of pointed edges or salt cubes. My breasts were nicked and scratched. I readjusted the fabric to cover them.
Across the tunnel, I spied a battered crate near where I’d awakened. Leaning forward as far as I dared, I made out several cubes of salt stacked neatly inside. Balanced on the topmost square sat the broken horse carving I’d stolen from Dillon’s tent. Balled in the bottom was the handkerchief stained with his blood. I knew I should snatch my prize, but after what I’d done to Mason…I had lost my appetite. While Dillon’s back was turned, I crept toward the box and snitched the horse.
Why the attachment? I supposed I wanted something of his to hold on to once this ended.
Rock crunched under a heavy boot. I froze, then rushed back to my seat. When no reprimand came, I glanced his way. He shifted his weight and massaged his neck as he stared at the desert.
His fever-addled mind was dangerous, but it might also prove my best hope for escape.
The healer in me longed to examine him, but I doubted he would trust me near him now. He knew I’d hurt Mason and the legionnaire whose horse I’d stolen. That blasted horse. I had to catch her. If I told Dillon his salt was strapped to her back, he would mount a recovery effort. Bringing me along would be foolhardy. Why give a dangerous prisoner freedom? No. He’d leave me behind. It made the most sense. Perhaps if I were lucky my new jailer would be less attentive.
Break free, await Dillon’s return, steal the salt and then…hope I made it farther this time.
Air at the edge of the mine was stifling, but Dillon would rather face the midday sun than the demoness waiting for his return. So much for asking the hard questions. Her accomplice, and she must have one, remained a mystery. Now that his mind was clearing, he noticed she hadn’t said the father of her child wasn’t involved. Father of her child. A growl pumped through his chest. He didn’t like that idea. Not one bit. So she had a daughter but not a mate. Or had she lied again?
Frowning, he massaged his nape while gathering his wits about him.
Isabeau as a mother… He admitted it wasn’t a far stretch to imagine her in the role. Even her lack of a mate was easily explained. Slaves birthed their owners’ bastards all the time. Most were sold once they reached a self-sufficient age. The girl in the portrait had the same roundness in her cheeks that Galvin had had until this last year. Based on that, he’d peg her at four or five years old. Old enough she must belong to Isabeau’s former master, whoever the bastard was. His hands balled.
Focus. The past can’t be changed. Accept it, deal with it and move on.
Accept it. She had a child. Between females aided by the freeborn legion and the consulate, so did one out of every four rescued, and his estimation wasn’t generous. Accepting she might be protecting the girl’s father was harder. It hinted at a relationship she had denied. Deal with it. She wasn’t his, and he didn’t want a mate. Move on. Claiming meant surrendering freedom he had fought too hard and lost too much achieving. No female deserved that level of control over him.
With his resolve fortified, he turned and made his way back to his prisoner.
The darkest secrets are the hardest to unearth.
Secret Unleashed
© 2013 Sierra Dean
Secret McQueen, Book 6
After her last mission tested the limits of her humanity and took her out of this world, Secret’s friends, determined to keep her safe from her old nemesis Alexandre Peyton, keep ushering her from one babysitter to the next.
Couch surfing would be a lot more fun if Alexandre would let up on her long enough to allow her to get in some alone time with her lovers. Including Holden, her self-appointed shadow.
As if living out of coffin isn’t bad enough, Secret literally brings down the house while hunting a rogue, causing the council to exile her from New York—for her own safety, of course.
With her list of people to trust getting shorter and shorter, Secret ends up embroiled in a mystery to find a vampire warden gone AWOL and a missing artifact. Things go from bad to worse when she falls into the hands of a man who will prove that humans can be the worst monsters of them all.
Warning: Contains a cross-country journey, an unexpected family reunion, heated lovers’ embraces and a hell of a lot of trouble.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Secret Unleashed:
Holden was a fish out of water in the dilapidated interior of the abandoned complex. The former GQ editor was wearing a gray Hugo Boss suit worth about a thousand bucks—he’d narrow down the price range for me if it was damaged somehow—and looked peeved.
His dark brown hair was brushed back from his face, curling slightly behind his ears and long enough to tease his nape. Brown eyes managed to convey his absolute disdain in a way words never could.
But it was the faint turn of a smile on his lips that hooked me. Holden had a way of taking the most terrifying situations and twisting them on their heads to distract me from the danger. Either by annoying me so intensely I wanted to murder him, or making me forget there was any risk by charming the pants off me.
Sometimes literally.
Even when he was being a snob, he made me feel safe.
It was one of the things I loved about him.
There was no shortage of those, unfortunately. It made not loving him almost impossible.
“What have you gotten us into now?” he asked. “And who are these civilian casualties?”
“Dude,” Shane responded, “we’ve met.”
“Ah yes. Secret two-point-oh. And you, tiny Irish?”
“Siobhan,” she said.
“Siobhan’s a druid,” I told him.
Holden wrinkled his nose, trying to keep from outright sneering at her. I admired his version of restraint. “How lovely.” He drew out the word lovely, making it as sarcastic as possible.
“I’m sorry, why is he here?” Shane was clearly exasperated by the way the hunt was spiraling out of his control.
“I called him.”
“For the love of—”
“Now, now, children. If you don’t want me here, I can just take my toy and go home.” With a burst of vampiric speed he was across the room with his hands possessively around my waist, pulling me towards him. I guess in this scenario I was the toy.
“Who’s acting like a kid now?” I smacked his hands away. He might have handled my assets in every conceivable way, but it didn’t mean he had permission to act as if he owned me. “Look, if we’re waltzing into a vampire nest, we’d be much better off having some real strength on our side. No offense to either of you, but you’re both human.”
Siobhan opened her mouth to protest, but I raised a finger. “And even a skilled human can’t face off against Grendel alone.”
Holden was still touching me, running his fingers up and down my spine, and even through the leather jacket I was tingling with awareness from his lingering presence. I didn’t tell him to stop. The
last thing I needed to worry about right then was my lover getting handsy with me in front of people.
Just thinking of him in conjunction with the word lover was more of a problem than I was willing to deal with at the moment.
“So what’s the plan?” Holden looked past me to Shane. I could have hugged the vampire for giving the hunter his dues as the leader of this expedition. Maybe the blood veneer made Shane seem more respectable to everyone.
“The elevator is out of the question, obviously,” Shane said.
Siobhan raised her bloody hands as evidence. Holden’s nostrils flared as the smell of the girl’s blood fanned through the air. He sucked in a ragged breath, and since breathing wasn’t necessary for vampires, I knew he was taking a good whiff of her.
“Has anyone checked for the stairs?” Holden asked, his voice strained.
“It’s at the back, but a section in the middle is rotted through. Not passable.”
“A few stairs missing? That’s nothing.” Holden stepped clear of us and bounded across the patchwork floor with the ease of an alley cat prowling the city streets. His confidence was contagious because the three of us followed after him, less nimble, but still able to track his route.
Holden was waiting at the top of the emergency stairwell, which must have been constructed in a bygone era before concrete was the norm, and we all assessed the rot damage.
The stairwell wrapped around the wall, with a broken railing along the outer edge. Where the railings gave way there was a central column open all the way to the ground floor. Since we were ten flights up, I didn’t think jumping to the main level would be feasible for anyone but Holden, and even he couldn’t guarantee making it without a broken ankle. He was still a man, not a cat.
Each section was missing six or seven steps—about half of the stairs—and the remaining bits looked worse for wear. I wouldn’t have trusted Siobhan’s lithe figure on the steps, let alone Shane or Holden. The weight of a full-grown man would fracture the threadbare wood.
Breath of Winter, A Page 22