The virus was real. She had data, autopsy reports and samples. What she lacked was the support of her government. The Centers for Disease Control refused to recognize it. They’d investigated the deaths and claimed many of the reports coming out of Greenland had been falsified. They’d called it a genetic disorder and issued a report detailing their findings.
None of their official communications referenced her facts.
She clicked on the timeline. According to her statistics, a person was being infected every three days. Mapping those cases showed the pattern that had forced her to leave the safety of her lab. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t shake her initial take on the data. Two infected people were traveling and spreading UP-33.
She wanted to stop them. The last victim, her sister Janice, had made the disease personal.
“Miss Saunders, we’ll be arriving in fifteen minutes.”
She nodded but didn’t respond to the man’s words. He’d been trying to engage her in conversation for hours. The blatant flirting had stopped after she’d reamed him out. The constant chatter hadn’t. It annoyed her. In all honesty, though, she found most people annoying, especially when they disturbed her while she was working.
Silence reigned for several precious minutes. She used them to go over the details of the infection. The classic signs of anemia—lightheadedness, headache, irritability and pallor developed rapidly while the symptoms that labeled it as UP-33 showed within hours after the initial triggers. A red tint hazed the whites of the victim’s eyes, and a rash spread across either the wrist or neck. Muscle spasms and intense pain followed. Death claimed the victims after a seizure stopped their hearts. Upon autopsy, every organ was found shriveled, and the person’s blood had turned black.
It had freaked out all those who’d seen the aftermath of the virus, including her. If it evolved and became airborne, they would be dealing with a modern bubonic plague.
The helicopter landed, pulling her out of her thoughts. She yanked off the headset. She’d hated wearing the thing, but the pilot had insisted.
“Welcome to Upernavik.”
She dragged her attention from the small screen on her laptop to the town. Colorful A-frame homes dotted the stark, rocky landscape. Although it was dark, lights shone in every window.
“I suppose it’s daytime.”
“Yes.” The man laid a hand on her thigh. “Are you positive this is something you want to do? You don’t exactly look like the type of woman who is used to roughing it, and this can be a very, very dangerous place.”
She glanced at the cute homes and raised a brow. “Dangerous?”
“Oh yes, very. You should have a man with you at all times.” He grinned. “Even in bed.”
She sighed. With controlled motions, she closed her ultra-light computer, slipped it into its padded bag and leveled her narrowed eyes at the local tour guide. The guy was handsome enough and had even quickened her pulse when he’d brushed against her, but she didn’t have time to explore what that meant. Work ruled her life. Men and sex were squeezed in when she had time. With a potential disastrous plague looming on the horizon, she didn’t have any to spare.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of myself.”
He studied her a moment more. One corner of his mouth quirked. “If you say so.”
She knew exactly what he saw: an attractive woman dressed in mismatched clothes, no makeup and her hair in a sloppy ponytail. There was a coffee stain on her jeans and a piece of duct tape covering a hole in her parka.
Why would he think she could take care of herself when she looked like a bum?
His opinion didn’t matter, though. Only hers did, and she rarely cared what she looked like. Besides, new clothes required a trip to the store. She hadn’t been able to squeeze that into her schedule in months.
“I do.”
He stroked his fingertips along her arm. “If you get lonely, call me. I only live an hour south.”
He stared expectantly at her. She inwardly sighed. Remembering her sister’s last lecture where she’d told Cat to stop being rude to people just because she didn’t have time for them, she forced a small nod. A smile seemed too much of an effort. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.”
A grin spread over his face. He slid his hand up her thigh. “How about I finish my runs for the day and return? It gets cold here at night. I can keep you warm, safe and”—he inched his fingers higher, dangerously close to her crotch—“satisfied.”
Apparently, trying to be polite had been the wrong choice. Luckily, she knew how to remedy the situation. She pulled a six-inch dagger from her boot—a gift from Roland, the seventy-year old veteran who ran her research center as if he were still a commander in the army. After a coworker had been raped and killed walking home to her apartment, he had handed them out to all the female employees. She didn’t delude herself into thinking she could actually use the knife. It was for show only.
“Touch me again, and you’ll regret it.” The man jerked his hand away. She grinned. “Like I said, I can take care of myself. As for getting cold? That’s what blankets are for.”
“So I see.” He reached over her and unlocked her door. “Enjoy your stay.”
She climbed out, cradling her backpack to her chest. A brown-haired local rushed forward with a huge, welcoming smile on his face. He took the rest of her bags and motioned her forward.
“Cat Saunders, welcome. I’m Ivan. I’ve been awaiting your arrival.”
The name registered in her cluttered brain. The owner of the local hotel. She fell into step next to him.
“Thanks. Your city is lovely.” Cold and harsh, but pretty nonetheless.
“We think so.” He led her toward a large red home. “It’s a wonderful place to live. Well, it was until our residents started turning up murdered.”
She stumbled. “Murdered?”
Ivan handed her bags to a teenage boy and faced her, a frown on his face. “The thirty-three deaths that occurred here over the past couple of months. That is why you’ve come, isn’t it?”
She inclined her head. “What makes you think they were killed?”
“Well,”—he ran a hand through his hair—“they were all attacked.”
She tensed. There’d been nothing in her report of any attacks. How was she supposed to uncover the source of the virus if she didn’t know all the facts? The lack of knowledge bothered her. Could the CDC’s accusation about falsified data be true? She bit her lip. No. If the townspeople had been murdered, then the government wouldn’t have blamed the deaths on a genetic disorder.
Dammit, someone was twisting the facts. That was sacrilege in her eyes. Data should never be altered.
“And what’s your take on it?”
“The same as I told the authorities.” He lowered his voice. “The fire demons have risen.”
Of course. The lack of detail made sense. Nobody in their right mind would add a supernatural creature to the list of possible causes. Yet, the fact that they’d been attacked should’ve been included.
Unease tightened her shoulders. “Fire demons?”
“Yes. Do you know what they are?”
She shook her head. “Are they from a local legend?”
“Partially. Here they go by the name eldjötnar, though they are known by many names.”
The term meant nothing to her. She hadn’t cared to learn mythology when science offered hard facts she could understand.
“So these…” She bit the inside of her cheek to stop her laughter. “These demons are common here?”
“No. They’ve risen from their death-sleep.”
She repeated the words in her head. “Death-sleep? Like vampires?”
His eyes lit up. He nodded. “Yes, vampires. That term fits, though they are not the undead. They are the eldjötnar.”
Her mouth dropped open. He couldn’t be serious. “Living vampires?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “You do not believe e
ither?”
No. “I’m here to find the source of the deaths. If vampires or demons or eldjötnar caused them, then that’s what I’ll report to my supervisors.” Right after I tell them I’m actually a famous movie star or maybe the Queen of England.
Ivan’s smile returned. “Good. I’ll let you get settled, then we can talk more. I have many books I can show you that detail their legends.” He rested a hand on her arm. Unlike the tour guide’s touch, Ivan’s felt protective, not salacious. “Be careful not to wander far.”
Ivan disappeared into the hotel. She stared at the closed door for a long moment. Vampires? She shook her head. Surely, the man was nuts. Vampires weren’t real. Neither were demons or eldjötnar, whatever the hell they were.
She pivoted on her heel and studied the village, searching for another resident to ask. There wasn’t anyone within sight. Afraid to be out alone, maybe? If there were blood-sucking undead walking around, people would stay inside. Then again, it might just be too damn cold to be outside.
Her survey paused on the tavern. Music and laughter drifted out when somebody slipped inside. Drunks would share their tales with her, especially if she supplied their booze.
She slipped her backpack over her shoulders and made her way to the bar. Halfway across the uneven path, she froze. The sensation of someone watching her raised the hair on her arms. She scanned the area but didn’t see anything or anyone unusual. She shook off the odd occurrence and stepped forward, right into the open arms of the biggest man she’d ever seen.
Bluish-gray eyes filled her vision. They mesmerized her. She stared into them for a long moment before her need to soak in details forced her gaze from his. Dark, wavy hair framed a face she would have expected to grace the cover of a magazine. Not too long or short, his thick locks were the perfect length to run her fingers through. She slid her gaze to his jaw. The shadow of a beard darkened his lightly tanned skin.
Her breath escaped in a shaky exhale. Gorgeous. The man awakened everything feminine in her. She dropped her attention to the full lips she wanted on hers. They curved into a smile, showing off straight white teeth. Her knees went weak. She fisted his sweatshirt and dragged in a deep breath to ground herself.
His scent filled her lungs. Crisp and clear, it reminded her of autumn morning; the refreshing kind where mist covered the ground and your breath fogged the air. She swayed with a sudden wave of dizziness. He firmed his grip on her hips. Grateful for his steadying hold, she leaned into him. He slipped a hand under her jacket and skimmed it up her spine. A moan that sounded too breathless and needy fell from her lips. She heard it, knew she was the one who made the wanton sound, but couldn’t understand why it had come out.
There was a reason she shouldn’t be in a stranger’s arms or any guy’s arms for that matter. She couldn’t make her mind work to figure it out. Each pass of his fingertips along her back scattered her thoughts as soon as they came.
She bit her cheek. The pain helped her focus.
Time.
The word skittered through her foggy brain. Of course. She didn’t have time. Damn if she could remember what was so important that she wouldn’t want to enjoy the sensations building within her. They felt familiar and exactly what she’d always been missing in her lovers’ arms.
What the hell?
She tipped her head to peer into his face and maybe trigger a memory. Had she met him before? Fucked him before? The blue-gray hue of his eyes reminded her of a stormy sky—unique and captivating. No. She’d remember that color.
“Cat.”
Her name spoken in his gravelly voice aroused her instantly, pooling warmth low. He bent his head toward hers. She sensed his intent, but she couldn’t move away. Her body relaxed more. Anticipation built. She needed him to kiss her.
Choose her.
Claim her.
No, something’s not right. This isn’t like me.
Guys didn’t turn her into a bundle of hormones. She opened her mouth to finally voice her concern. He closed the scant inch between them. His lips brushed hers, and her thoughts scattered once more. Tingles spread, igniting her nerve endings. She shivered, and he slammed their bodies together.
A gasp escaped her. He slipped his tongue past her parted lips. With gentle strokes, he coaxed her into a hesitant kiss. She followed his lead, unable to resist his seduction. Dammit, she should. The reason hovered at the edge of her mind. It was something other than a lack of time. She couldn’t grasp it, not while he rolled his tongue with hers and moaned.
Dear God, she loved that sound. There was something about making a man lose control that pushed her over the edge. It made her feel powerful. Sexy. Desirable.
She curled her fingers around the back of his neck. The silky strands of his hair under her fingertips stirred her desires. She wanted to feel the locks teasing her chest, her belly, her inner thighs. She groaned and took over the kiss.
He tugged at her bag. She wiggled. The backpack slipped free and landed with a thump. Concern for her electronics rose. It faded with the hungry growl he shoved down her throat.
Her feet left the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grateful he held her. It made it easier to kiss him. Their teeth banged as the kiss grew wicked. His moans matched hers. She dug her fingers into his scalp and pulled him closer.
Cat, my Cat. Want to love you.
She froze at the words she heard in her head. Had she imagined them? He kept kissing her, working his tongue into her mouth and stroking hers. She must have. She shook off the thought and kissed him back.
That’s right. Kiss me. Need you to warm me as no other female has. I need you to be my life.
There was no mistaking the voice. He spoke to her telepathically.
Not right, not right. She had to get away. She captured his tongue and bit at the same time as she shoved against his chest. She fell on her ass. He bent over her a second later. Glowing eyes locked on to her.
She screamed.
Continue reading Mist Revealed
Sometimes moving on means taking a step back.
Kyle Sander is an expert at starting over. At eighteen, he had his whole life planned out—marry his long-time girlfriend, take over his parents’ farm, have kids, and live out his days in Sander’s Valley. But his perfect life came screeching to a halt the day Ronnie Axel skipped town without a good-bye.
A decade later, the little rich girl he’d loved is back, looking sexier than ever. Finally, he has the chance to work her out of his system. Too bad he’s never been able to separate sex and love when it comes to Ronnie.
This time, their connection is stronger than ever. Unfortunately, the years apart didn’t fix their issues. Ronnie’s obligation to the Axel fortune threatens to tear them apart a second time. But it’s the family scandal involving her that might make their separation not only permanent, but…deadly.
CHAPTER ONE
Out of all the bars in Pennsylvania, she had to walk into this one.
With his thumbs in his pockets, Kyle Sander leaned against the rear wall of the bar. Unless she looked directly at him, she wouldn’t see him. The broken jukebox to his right blocked him from her view. He couldn’t spend all night here, though. He had places to go. Things to do. None of those involved talking to Ms. Ronnie Axel, heir to the Axel fortune.
What was she even doing here? She should be surrounded by her pretty boys and the precious artwork she loved so much. The only thing resembling art in this joint was the reproduction gas pump a couple of feet away from him.
As for model-worthy men? Yeah. Not happening.
The guys in Sander’s Valley dressed like he did—ripped jeans, work boots, and a flannel. It was the attire of a blue-collar worker. Nobody would mistake him as anything else. He had the calluses and scars to prove it. Manual labor left its mark on a man. It didn’t matter if he owned his construction company or not. He swung a hammer along with his crew.
He craned his head to catch another glimpse of Veronica Gwendolyn Axel, R
onnie to her friends. She stood near the bar, one hand on her hip, the other holding a slim phone to her ear. He didn’t need to see her face. Her voice was one he’d never forget. Not rich and sultry, but rough and commanding. She sounded like someone who’d smoked a couple of packs a day for years. Not Ronnie, though. Hers was natural. So was her platinum hair. He could attest to that.
With her back to him, he had a perfect view of her ass. A clingy skirt caressed her rounded cheeks. It didn’t leave much to the imagination. Heels added height to her short frame and defined her legs. He let his gaze caress her curves the way he’d once licked them before focusing on her neck. Slender and pale, it still lured him the way it had in high school.
One more slow perusal and he decided the years apart had been good to her. Real good. His dick approved of the curvy, compact package she’d become. The rest of him, on the other hand, wanted no part of her.
“Lurking in the shadows?” Wyn chuckled. “Who’d you piss off now?”
Kyle dropped his head against the wall and met his brother’s gaze. Dark brown hair and eyes, a little scruff on his face, and a cleft in his chin—he could’ve been Kyle’s twin. Two years separated them, making Wyn the baby at twenty-five. Mama still called him her baby boy too. It amused Kyle every time. Wyn towered over all of the Sander boys.
“Nobody.” Kyle cracked his jaw. “At least no one that I know of.”
“Then what’s the deal?”
“Ronnie’s here.”
Wyn’s brows shot up. “Your Ronnie?”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “She hasn’t been mine since we were seventeen.”
Wyn peered over his shoulder. He gave a low whistle. “Damn, the years have been good to her.”
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