Blood of an Ancient: A Beri O'Dell Book, Book 2
Page 25
It was no aura.
It’s all quasi-legal fun until somebody gets framed for murder.
Wicked Misery
© 2013 Tracey Martin
Miss Misery, Book 1
Jessica Moore thrives on misery. Literally. Thanks to a goblin’s curse, she gets a magical high from humanity’s suffering. A shameful talent like that could bury a girl in guilt, so to atone, she uses her dark power to hunt murderers, rapists and other scumbags—until one of them frames her for his crimes.
In desperation, Jessica seeks refuge with the one person she trusts to not turn her in—a satyr named Lucen. Like every member of his race, Lucen uses his lusty magic to control Boston’s human population, and Jessica isn’t immune to his power. But the murder victims belonged to a rival race, and when they discover Lucen is harboring Jessica, dodging the cops becomes the least of her problems.
With only five days to find the real killer, Jessica faces a danger far more serious than the brewing magical war. The danger of succumbing to Lucen’s molten seduction.
Warning: Contains a heroine with a lust for misery, creepy murders, and creepier goblins, satyrs so hot you’d sell your soul for one, and scaly sewer rats masquerading as dragons. Who said magic was all sparkles and tiaras?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Wicked Misery:
The train doors opened at the Shadowtown station, and I launched myself out of the car, desperate and stupid. On the ride over it had occurred to me that I was not exactly equipped for this. I had no charms and no weapons. All I had was the cash in my wallet, my phone and the Tallyho’s uniform in my duffel bag. Yeah, I’d thought this through real well.
What I wouldn’t have given for my bike, my knives and my anklet. Hell, I’d have been happy with my leather pants. Since I’d bought them when I was in a bind, they’d become comfort clothes. And damn it, I needed comfort.
Barring that, I’d take a relatively safe place to think.
That was why I’d chosen Shadowtown. It was the one neighborhood in Boston that the Gryphons wouldn’t just sweep through looking for me. They’d come eventually if they believed I was here, but it would be a while before they gathered a small army. Whatever vendetta the sylphs might have against me aside, no pred liked a Gryphon invasion.
So I hoped.
I clattered down the steps to the street and checked the time on my cell. I’d gotten off shift at three. It was now almost four. The Lair wouldn’t open for another hour, but Lucen should be up. Yesterday, I’d promised myself I wouldn’t show my face to him for at least a week. So much for pride.
He picked up on the fourth ring as my panic began anew. “After ten years without a phone call, this is the second time in two days you’ve called me, little siren. Have I finally started growing on you?”
“Yeah, like a tumor. Um…” I collected my thoughts. All around me, a quiet, sleepy Shadowtown was awakening. Thunder rumbled overhead and the wind picked up, scattering leaves near my feet. A couple humans, nonaddicts, were hurrying my way, high-school-age guys by the look. No doubt they were testing their burgeoning manliness by exploring Shadowtown during a time when most of its inhabitants would be tucked in bed. I waited for them to pass.
They gave me furtive glances, probably assuming I was an addict. I rolled my eyes and adjusted the phone against my head. A shadow flickered from the corner of my eye, and I saw the back of a sylph’s head as he or she entered a house. There was a flash of silvery white hair then the door shut. I had to get off the street.
“Jess?”
“Sorry. I’m having a little problem and could use a spot where I could lie low for a bit. Out of the Gryphons’ reach.”
His tone changed. “What’s going on?”
“I’d rather not say in the middle of the street.”
“Can you get to The Lair?”
“I’m looking at it.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Lucen hung up, and I jogged the rest of the way down the block to the bar. He was already outside by the time I got there, looking freshly showered in jeans but no shirt or shoes. His blond waves dripped water on broad shoulders. I winced. He’d better put on a shirt soon or I was going to have a hard time concentrating. Yeah, being framed for murder sounded like it should easily take precedence over a chiseled chest and a six-pack, but only to someone who never spent time around satyrs. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Lucen stood on the stoop next to the bar, holding the front door open. “Come on in.”
“I didn’t know you lived above The Lair.”
“There’s lots you don’t know about me because you’re always running away.”
I squeezed past him, getting a good whiff of his cinnamon-tinged skin and undoubtedly a good dose of his lusty magic. My hands twitched, eager to attach themselves to that broad swath of chest and trace every contour of muscle, to follow that thin line of blond hairs on his stomach to where it disappeared into his waistband and beyond. I dug my nails into my palms. The pain helped, but not as much as usual. “I hate to be rude since you’re doing me a huge favor, but could you put on a shirt?”
“If you insist, or you could take off yours and call it even.”
“I’m being framed for murder. I’ve got more important things to worry about than whether I’m wearing my pretty bra.”
Abruptly, some of my lust subsided, pulled back almost as though a blanket had been tugged off my skin. Lucen gaped at me, his eyes filled with shock.
Could he do that? Keep a handle on his power if he wanted to? Granted, not all my desire had disappeared, but the worst of it had. Damn it, if I didn’t need his goodwill right now—whatever little goodwill a satyr might have, that was—I’d want to kill him for never bothering to do this before.
“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared to the right, and feet pounded up some unseen stairs.
I wandered deeper into his apartment, not expecting to find it so light and airy. The kitchen was immediately to my left. Through a doorway I could see steps, and beyond that a small, tastefully decorated living room. Muted sunlight seeped into the joint kitchen and dining area through linen drapes. I pulled them aside and discovered sliding doors leading onto a small deck that overlooked a parking lot. All in all, not a bad spot. But then, rents in Shadowtown were cheaper than almost anywhere else in the Boston area. For all I knew, Lucen owned this entire building.
He was right in that regard. I’d never bothered to learn much about him. Prolonged conversations had always felt like an invitation for trouble.
With that thought in mind, I plunked myself down at the kitchen table, wondering whether this had been a bad idea of Biblical proportions. Until now, I’d never exactly sought out Lucen’s company. Since the beginning of our relationship, it had always been the other way around. After all, most of the major religions taught that preds were on this planet to tempt humanity to ruin, and I usually saw no point in throwing myself at temptation.
Blood of an Ancient
Rinda Elliott
Saving the love of her life could mean letting her inner darkness out to play.
Beri O’Dell, Book 2
Beri O’Dell is on a mission. She has to rip back into a hell dimension fast, but needs two things first—the blood of an ancient and a fix for her friend Blythe’s magic, which careened out of control after the battle with the Dweller.
Finding ancient blood isn’t easy when the old ones are rare and unwilling to donate. She needs to find Blythe’s former mentor…except the woman has lost her mind and joined a traveling band of singing witches.
That’s not the only magical monkey on her back. Nikolos is imprisoned, and after a screwed-up spell lets her witness the horror that has become his life, her fear for him grows by the day. Now there’s another problem—a powerful being unleashed during the battle with the Dweller likes her gluttonous new existence, and will kill anyone who threatens it.
But Beri has a few tricks up her costumed sleeve, even if it me
ans mining the darkness of her soul to set everything right…and get Nikolos back in her arms.
Warning: Sleazy ancients. Random fires. Nosy teenage hackers. Hints of off-screen torture. Battles with...Beri doesn't know what. And one scary boyfriend who keeps inching toward insanity.
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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.
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Blood of an Ancient
Copyright © 2013 by Rinda Elliott
ISBN: 978-1-61921-427-9
Edited by Holly Atkinson
Cover by Kanaxa
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: October 2013
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