Angel Seduced

by Jaime Rush

  But when she woke, she would love him well, too.

  Ruby Salazaar wants answers…and revenge. Her uncle has just been murdered, and the name he utters with his final breath will lead Ruby to a man with powers beyond her wildest imagination.

  Please turn this page for an excerpt from

  Dragon Awakened.

  Ruby sat in her truck across the street from Dragon Arts. She’d changed clothes and done a quick cleanup at home. Even taking that bit of time had stretched her tight. She’d wanted to drive right over and tear out Cyntag’s throat.

  Those kind of thoughts usually disturbed her, hinting at a primitive violence that reared its head when someone wronged or threatened her. It throbbed inside her, curling her fingers into fists.

  Get it under control. This is one bad dude. All I’m doing right now is finding out how bad.

  The logical part of her brain added, A bad dude who possibly has control of bizarre and deadly weapons while you have a gun. Hullo?

  But what else can I do, let him just get away with killing Mon and never know why? No way in hell.

  Without that envelope, she had nothing but Cyntag’s name and the schizophrenic thoughts bouncing around in her head.

  According to their website, he was teaching a class starting in—she glanced at the clock—one minute. While he was otherwise occupied, she’d snoop and be long gone before his class was over. She had no idea how much Cyntag knew about her. Because she usually wore her hair in a braid, she left it loose and frizzy. Not a big disguise but, at a glance, different enough. She had no intention of him seeing her, but best to be prepared. Which included her gun, the metal cool against the small of her back. She’d found it useful when she started going off-site to look at people’s stuff. In a city like Miami, no way was she walking into someone’s garage alone and unarmed.

  Warm air washed over her neck, and in the corner of her eye, something shimmered next to her. She jerked to the side but saw nothing. All her hairs sprung to attention. It had felt like a breath.

  Her mystery rash, which only broke out on the right side of her stomach, burned something fierce. Doctors couldn’t figure it out, and she’d tried every kind of medication to no avail. Stress always triggered it.

  She stepped into the mid-September heat and humidity. The buildings in this area were old but in good repair. She spotted a Spanish/Portuguese restaurant across the way, and most of the signage was in Spanish with English subtitles. She generally felt like a foreigner in Miami, often one of the few Anglo people at any given location.

  She caught sight of her reflection as she approached the glass door: cargo pants, black T sporting the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ asterisk logo, and black work boots that protected her feet if something heavy fell on them. The bandage on her forehead, that had to go.

  Dragon Arts was first class, with a comfortable waiting area, natural wood floors, and halogen lights in frosted glass cones. A woman about her age, framed by a tattered pirate’s flag on the wall behind her, sharpened pencils at a tall reception desk.

  Her dark pink lipstick and short, white hair popped against her raven skin. “May I help you, sugar?” The small gold plaque on the desk identified her as Glesenda.

  “I wanted to check the place out, see what classes you offered.”

  She handed Ruby a slick brochure, studying her eyes. “And not listed are…” She did a double take, her eyebrows furrowing. “Well, you can see the listing for yourself.”

  Well, okay then. Ruby devoured the flier, looking for one thing: a picture of the owner. No deal, same as their website. An Internet search gleaned several articles mentioning Cyntag’s name in conjunction with either his studio or some competition a student had participated in, but nothing on Twitter, Facebook, or any other social networks.

  Ruby caught Glesenda’s eye. “I understand Cyntag Valeron teaches Cane Fighting Level One?” Whatever that was.

  Glesenda nodded toward one of the large glass windows. “He’s teaching in the Sapphire Room right now.”

  Ruby wanted to run over and finally put a face to her uncle’s murderer. Her breath left her with every step toward the window. A class of ten men of various ages stood in formation as they watched two men spar at the far side of the room. One sported a shaved head, was in his fifties, and weighed about two-fifty. The other—holy Jesus in Heaven. She sucked in air and tried to pull herself together. He was whip-muscular, wearing loose white pants with a tight black sash at his waist, his ripped torso slick with sweat. Gorgeous, dangerous-looking…and the spit-and-polish image of the Dragon Prince. Even down to his dark hair and the exotic slant to his eyes.

  He had a tattoo far more fantastic than any she had seen, a dragon crawling up his back. Black and blue wings spanned his shoulders, the tail sliding down his spine to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. When he shifted, she saw that the dragon’s head peered over his shoulder. It looked three-dimensional.

  “Yeah, he has that effect on most women.” Glesenda wore an amused expression.

  Not quite this effect, Ruby bet. Her chest was so tight she had to push out the words. “That’s Cyntag, the one with the dragon tat?”

  “Sure is. Total hotness,” she said on a sigh.

  Sure, if you were into men who sent murderous orbs. The hefty guy pretended to sneak up behind Cyntag, who twisted, hooked the other guy’s neck with the curved handle of the cane, and sent him flat on the mat in a flash. Unscathed, Hefty jumped to his feet and tried another attack, which was quickly thwarted with a pseudo-whack of the cane to his head. She watched, mesmerized by the stealthy grace of Cyntag’s movements, the way his muscles flexed, and how damned fast he was.

  “You can listen in, too.” Glesenda pressed a button and then ran in five-inch heels to answer the phone.

  Cyntag’s voice came through the speaker. “The next counterattack we’ll demonstrate is an assailant in a face-to-face assault.”

  Yes, the low, smooth voice she’d heard on the message.

  Ready to take more abuse, Hefty tried to punch Cyntag and ended up with his arm locked behind him and the cane shoving him to the floor.

  Cyntag extended his hand and effortlessly pulled Hefty to his feet. “Thanks, Stephen.” He raised the cane over his head, which tightened his biceps, and addressed his class. “Looks like a sign of disability or old age, right? If I’m looking for a victim, you’re an easy target. Or maybe not. If you’ve got one of these, you have the ability to fight off an attacker with force. At all times, you can carry a weapon right out in the open, no permit needed.”

  At that moment, Cyntag started to look her way. Ruby moved out of view, her fingers so tight on the frame around the window that she had to pry them off. Her hands were shaking as she passed the desk where Glesenda was on the phone with someone who was obviously calling in sick. Ruby glanced at a clock. Forty-five minutes before class ended.

  She’d laid her eyes on him, all right. What was she going to do about it? The only way to take him out—if she could—was to shoot him from a distance, but that wouldn’t glean any answers. She was as desperate for them as she was for revenge. Maybe something here would help.

  She passed a sign that read OBSIDIAN ROOM. This room bore no window. Too bad, because disturbing sounds emanated from behind the closed door. She tried the handle, ready to act contrite at interrupting.

  Except, no deal. The door was locked. The thumps and growls coming from within were muffled, as though the walls were somewhat soundproofed. Those primal growls raised chill bumps on her arms. But more than that, they reached deep inside and twisted at her insides.

  She rubbed her arms and wandered into the shop, pretending to look at fighting sticks, canes, and uniforms. Until she spotted a closed door with the words EMPLOYEES ONLY on it.

  She pushed it open, prepared once again to feign innocence if she found someone on the other side. It appeared to be a break room and, fortunately, vacated. A door at the other end was ajar, and she could see a desk. Maybe Cy
ntag’s office. Inside, a contemporary desk was juxtaposed with antiques, like framed compasses and maps that looked as though they’d traveled on many a high sea. No pictures of friends, family, or a special vacation. A collection of dragon figurines lined the top shelf of the bookcase, each locked in combat with either another of its kind or a man wielding a sword. Dude had a thing for dragons.

  Ruby caught herself scratching the damned rash again and closed the door. She sank into the leather chair at the desk and searched for any clue to who Cyntag was and what he was involved in. Anything incriminating would be documented with her camera phone. She’d rifled through four drawers, finding nothing out of the ordinary, when the door opened. Her heartbeat shot straight up into her throat as she turned.

  Because of course it had to be Cyntag standing there.

  It’s a fine line between love and hate. Can two adversaries team up to find the truth—and defeat a powerful force out to destroy the Dragon community?

  Please turn this page for an excerpt from

  Magic Possessed.

  Kade drove south, through the city and toward the marshlands known as the Fringe. Normally, adrenaline would be shooting through his veins like a thousand Red Bulls on his way to a kill. This time he was having a hard time working up the excitement to do his job.

  As he reached the edge of the Fringe, he felt a tightening in his gut. Finally. Except it wasn’t eagerness or adrenaline. It was…dread? Because he didn’t want to kill her. There it was.

  Keep your focus. It’s a job.

  Each clan had a large parcel of land that was divvied up between the various subfamilies. Many had different businesses, nice legal ones like vineyards and farms. But sometimes their farms consisted of marijuana plants, one of Arlo’s transgressions. The Guard cared more about the possibility of attracting the Muds’ attention than the illegality of the farms.

  Centuries of living as they saw fit gave the Fringers the impression that they were outside the bounds of the law. Centuries of living with the threat of being extinguished by your nearest neighbor made them skilled at fighting. Violet was no delicate flower. She’d held back at Headquarters. He knew her ferocity well enough. And yeah, he knew the feel of her breast, and her body wrapped around his…though not in the good way.

  Not that you want her wrapped around you like that. Because that would make this assignment much more complicated.

  His cock had different ideas, thickening at the memory. Hell, he wasn’t even experiencing physical contact and there it was, waving to get his attention. He really needed to get laid.

  Violet’s faced flashed in front of him.

  But not with her.

  Earlier, he experienced that bizarre moment of spotting someone you knew but not recognizing them. She’d cleaned up nice, dressed in white pants that made her legs go on forever and a dark blue shirt that molded to her upper body. Though he would have definitely recognized her once she gave him the go screw yourself look.

  Kade drove down a weed-overgrown gravel road and parked his car behind a stand of Brazilian pepper bushes. Between Arlo’s drug running, some assault charges, and the old coot who’d seen a gator ape, Kade had been to Castanega property enough to know his way around. There was plenty of acreage for the family’s enterprises; most centered around alligators. Demons were no big deal, but those scaly, toothy creatures with perpetual grins gave him the creeps.

  Kade walked the boundary between Castanega land and the long-vacant Garza land. This was not the cultivated, trimmed, and polished South Florida most people imagined. While the pepper bushes with the red berries took over open stretches of land, the tall, feathery Australian pines created dense forests elsewhere. In places where the non-native plants hadn’t invaded, slash pine trees with their long needles offered more sap than shade.

  A wet summer had left the ground muddy and created large marshes in some places. It was hard to walk quietly in muck. His black boots sucked free of the moist earth with every step. The smell of earth, mud, and decay filled his nostrils. Sweat trickled down his back. Even in the hot, muggy summers, Vega attire consisted of long sleeves. The black rayon allowed for movement and ventilation, but neither helped when trekking through the woods in September—a month that, in South Florida, typically was as steamy as the one before it.

  Mosquitoes buzzed all around him, but none dared land on him. They seemed to sense the magick in Crescents, largely leaving them alone. But they wanted to suck his blood and hovered annoyingly all around. A startled hawk screeched and alighted from a branch. If he hadn’t seen the hawk, he’d have suspected it was the Fringe “language,” whistles and nature sounds they used to communicate over distances. Like warning of an intruder.

  Two things the uniform designer did allow for were quick-drying material and ease in extracting Deuce weapons. Kade ran his fingers from wrist to inner elbow, feeling the spark of magick. The dagger “tattoo” thrummed with magick, courtesy of a specially commissioned Guard tattoo artist.

  He suspected Violet’s home was a cabin in the western edge. Her face dominated his mind, the smell of her, the tingle he’d felt when her wrists were clamped in his hands, her body against the wall. A part of him had wanted her to dart off again, craving the chase. Because he knew he’d catch her.

  He shook the thought away. Now he would catch her. And kill her. He didn’t have to like or agree with the order; he simply had to carry it out. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last.

  He paralleled a gravel road, barely visible in the distance, until he spotted a burgundy Infiniti parked in the driveway. Synthetic pop music floated from somewhere beyond the house. He surveyed the area. The house was small but quaint, painted a soft yellow with white shutters and gingerbread trim. The recently mowed grass that surrounded the house in a tidy square was lush and green. Plants and flowers overran the planting beds, a wild mess. Except it wasn’t, he realized, seeing a loose but deliberate arrangement of the various plants. Somehow the undisciplined aspect intrigued him more than the sculpted bushes and trimmed trees in his yard in Coral Gables.

  He recognized the music now: Berlin, from the eighties. “The Metro.” It fit Violet, tough and in your face. Odd, since Violet seemed too young to have been more than a child in the eighties.

  Who cared what she liked to listen to? The knife tattoo came to life, filling his hand with the heavy feel of metal. He clutched the dagger as he rounded the rear corner of the house. Farther back sat a large workshop with several long tables in the center of the space and shelves that lined the walls. She was doing something at one of the tables.

  He cut back into the woods and came up behind the metal building. As he sidled up along the side, he nearly gave himself away when his shoe bumped an alligator in the bushes. He slapped his hand over his mouth as he stumbled back. The alligator leered at him with glassy eyes. Wait a minute. Kade tapped the gator with his shoe. It was hard. Hell, the thing was stuffed. He crouched near the edge of the open bay and watched Violet.

  Hopefully she was planning the next murder, doing something to prove her guilt. He tried to see inside the many clear boxes on the shelves. They looked like they were filled with colorful stones. She worked a pair of pliers on a leather strap with jerky movements, cursing when a string of beads fell and scattered all over. Damn. It wasn’t destructive; it was jewelry. She bent and picked them up, her pants stretching tight over her ass. One bead bounced and landed within a few feet of him. She hadn’t seen it, but a big, dopey-looking dog did. Then the dog saw him.

  Uh-oh.

  Its tail thumped on the floor, which was covered in outdoor carpet. Okay, not a guard dog but still problematic. He stepped out of view and heard Violet throw the beads and issue a guttural expletive.

  She darted out of the workshop, her face buried in her hands, and passed within three feet of him. The dog followed, glancing back at him. Kade remained in place, watching her heaving shoulders as she reached the thicket of cypress and pine trees and fell to her knees. />
  The dog flopped down beside her and rested its head on her thighs. She buried her face in its fur, her fingers curling into the folds of skin. Her muffled sobs clawed right through him. These were not the cries of a woman putting on a show or upset over something that didn’t go her way. This was grief, raw and keening. She said one word over and over, and finally he was able to make it out: Arlo.

  She presented him with the perfect opportunity, too grief-stricken to notice if her Dragon warned of a presence coming up behind her. He scanned the surroundings as he readied his dagger for a quick, merciful kill. His pulse throbbed at the side of his throat as it did in these situations, and his fingers tightened on the hilt.

  Except his body wouldn’t move. Every preconceived notion he had about Violet—unkempt, untamed, violent—fled his mind, replaced by vulnerable, fiery, and innocent.

  Innocent.

  Former fellow Vega Cyntag Valeron had just come to him that morning, out of the blue, to decipher a magick book. He’d been cryptic about both it and the woman with him but clear about the advice he’d imparted: “Trust your gut above all else. If it doesn’t feel right, it’s probably not.”

  Kade’s gut screamed, Don’t kill her.

  The oaths he’d taken as a Vega to uphold the law at any cost fell away, replaced by a conviction that Violet was not guilty of some murderous conspiracy.

  One moment he stood frozen in his inner turmoil, and the next, a Dragon’s gaping mouth was lunging for his throat. He twisted but still got knocked on his ass twenty feet away. He landed in a marshy area, sending a wave of muddy water spraying. His breath escaped in a hard gasp, and he hardly had time to breathe before the Dragon moved into view.

  Dappled sunlight shimmered off her maroon scales. She lunged down at him, fangs stopping half an inch from eviscerating him. Inside her open mouth, magick flares capable of inflicting any type of pain fired to life. Her cat-like eyes shrank. “You!” The fierce flames in her eyes didn’t soften one bit. “How dare you sneak up on me!”