Angelic Surrender: The Kavanaugh Foundation, Book 2

by Crista McHugh

  “Anjali, if I don’t get inside you soon, I’m going to make Lucifer look like a saint.”

  Wetness pooled between her legs and trickled down her thighs. She wanted him inside her too, but not until he uttered the words she wanted to hear. As the last button slipped out of its hole, his wings wrapped around and pulled her to him like another set of arms. She lay against him, staying in front of his erection so it only grazed her buttocks. “Say it, Will.”

  “I’ve already told you that I’m as much yours are you are mine. Do you really need me to promise you more?”

  She cupped his cheeks in her hands and studied him. It still boggled her mind that this beautiful angel wanted her and no one else. She brushed her lips against him, tasting the remnants of the BBQ potato chips on them instead of the ambrosia she would have imagined. He was as real as any flesh and blood man, but so much more. And she wanted all of him.

  “Do you really need me to tell you that I love you? Haven’t I shown you as much?”

  “Sometimes a girl likes to hear those three little words.”

  The tips of his wings traced spiraling circles up and down her spine. Tension coiled deep inside the pit of her stomach. Her pussy ached for him, but she could wait this out.

  He lifted his head and pressed his lips to hers. “I love you now and forever.”

  Although she’d known it all along deep inside, his murmured words knocked the air from her lungs. Wetness seeped into the corners of her eyes. Caught in a world between ancient enemies, between angels and demons, she’d found the one man who captured her heart. Before she let her tears fall, she raised her hips and took his cock deep inside her, finding a home in the bliss that followed.

  About the Author

  Growing up in small-town Alabama, I relied on storytelling as a natural way to pass the time and keep my two younger sisters entertained. Of course, that also means I’m inclined to suffer some of the same maladies of many Southern writers, which may include overuse of simile and metaphor, exaggeration, melodrama and the ever-popular long-winded sentence.

  I currently live in Western Washington with my husband and daughter, maintaining my alter ego of mild-mannered physician by day while I continue to pursue writing on nights and weekends. I refer to it as “therapy”.

  To learn more about me, please visit www.cristamchugh.com. Send an email to crista@cristamchugh.com.

  Look for these titles by Crista McHugh

  Now Available:

  Heart of a Huntress

  A legend…a myth…a high stakes game that could shatter them both.

  Heart of a Huntress

  © 2010 Crista McHugh

  The Kavanaugh Foundation, Book 1

  As one of the oldest surviving vampire hunters in the Foundation, Lana has learned the toughest lesson: success comes at a price. So while the yummy stranger she bumps into at Caesar’s trips all her temptation switches, duty comes first. Better to be alone than to gamble with someone else’s heart—or her own. Although maybe a one-night stand won’t hurt…

  Byron has set a one-way course for revenge against the Vegas vampire who murdered his uncle. When he collides with Lana, though, her scent calls to him like a potent aphrodisiac. The only explanation: she’s his true-mate. And the timing couldn’t be worse. He can’t afford any distractions—not to mention it’ll be hell convincing her to love someone who sprouts fur and fangs every full moon.

  One drink together turns into a daring night of passion. Their erotic interlude ends abruptly with the news that Lana’s partner has been abducted by the very vampire Byron seeks. Now Byron has no choice. He must reveal what he is and risk a rejection that could spell his own destruction…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Heart of a Huntress:

  His voice almost growled the last sentence, like he wasn’t used to people challenging his orders. A shiver coursed down her spine. Normally she didn’t like domineering men, mainly because she could kick most of their asses when push came to shove. But Byron looked like the type that could match her, tit for tat. An equal. A challenge. She rattled off the address to her condo just off the Strip and nestled into his arms. It would be a short ride, but she might as well enjoy it while she could.

  His arms wrapped around her, warm and comforting. How long had it been since she allowed herself to get physically close to someone like this? She knew getting involved with him was out of the question—too many complications—but would one night disrupt the balance of her life?

  “Let me take a look at your ankle.”

  He slid his hand down her leg and her sex tightened. An amused light shone in his eyes when she met his gaze, like he knew exactly how horny he was making her. And if she wasn’t mistaken, he was struggling to contain his arousal as much as she was.

  He cleared his throat. “It’s already starting to swell a bit. Can you move it, wiggle your toes? Do we need to take a detour by the hospital to make sure it’s not broken?”

  She followed his commands, wincing as she did. “I think I’ll survive. It’s just a sprain.”

  “Good. Anything else?”

  “Maybe some bruised ribs,” she admitted. Her mind played back the encounter with the last vampire, and a cold chill washed over her insides. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving my life. And for taking care of me afterwards.” God, she hated to admit she needed help. It gnawed at her gut, but if she had to be rescued by anyone, she would’ve picked him. “But you need to be careful. You saw what they’re like, and from what I overheard, they were setting up a trap.”

  “For me or for you?”

  “Me.”

  A reckless grin spread across his face. “Then maybe you’re the one who needs to be more careful. Maybe you should take someone with you when you hunt.”

  She glanced up at the driver, wondering how much he’d overheard and understood. “Let’s change the subject.”

  “Of course,” he said as he ran one callused hand over her legs and massaged the base of her neck with the other. “What did you have in mind?”

  One look told her exactly what he had on his mind. Even if she closed her eyes, the firm ridge in his pants pressing against her thigh made her all too aware of his thoughts. “Are you always this forward with women?”

  “Sometimes. Actually, I’d say I’ve been holding back on you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re different than most women.”

  That was an understatement. How many women prowled the streets at night with a wooden stake in their purse?

  “You seem to be the type who likes to call the shots,” he continued. The sensuous curve of his lips rose into a smile, making his implications clear. He was waiting on her to make the next move.

  Her heart raced. One kiss wouldn’t cause too many problems, would it? Plus, it might calm the growing curiosity inside her. Before common sense could talk her out of it, she gently brushed her lips against his. They were warm, soft, yielding to hers.

  When she tried to pull away, his fingers threaded through her hair. Her breath caught. The hunger in his hazel eyes told her he wanted more than that, and frankly, so did she. This time, when their lips met, she did the yielding. Her mouth parted and his tongue swept in.

  Mmm…this is how a kiss should feel. Each sweep of his tongue, each nibble of his teeth, fanned the smoldering fire inside the lowest pit of her stomach. The stubble on his chin grated against her skin, adding a new sensation to her already hyper-aware brain. She curled his short hair around her fingers and held on for the ride, not wanting it to end.

  A soft moan formed in his throat and he grew bolder in his advances. The hand on her leg worked its way under her dress. He stroked her seam through her already-soaked panties. Now it was her turn to moan. He repeated the action and she pressed against his hand, urging him to keep doing it, to go deeper next time.

  A loud cough interrupted them, and Lana pulled away. The taxi was idling in the drivewa
y of her condominium complex. Her cheeks burned. Had she really been so caught up in making out with a relative stranger in the backseat of a cab that she hadn’t realized they’d reached their destination?

  Byron’s hand withdrew from under her dress. “Let me walk the lady upstairs, and I’ll be back in a moment.”

  “Yeah, right,” the driver replied. “Just so you know, the meter’s running.”

  “No problem.” He opened the door and scooped her back into his arms. “Got your keys, Lana?”

  She searched her purse while she gave him directions to her unit. Despite the fact that she’d been sucking his face a few seconds ago, she couldn’t meet his eyes now. Once they entered the elevator, she whispered, “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For acting that way in the cab. I usually have better control over myself.”

  His laughter echoed off the stainless-steel walls. “So you’re saying you don’t normally hook up with random strangers?”

  “You don’t have to say it that way!” She tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he held on to her tighter. “You really don’t have to carry me all the way up to my condo, you know.”

  “What if I want to?”

  Although she hated to admit it, she wanted to stay in his arms. For once in her life, she felt less like a tough-as-nails huntress and more like a fairy-tale princess. Of course, what she wanted to do to him didn’t belong anywhere near a Disney movie.

  The elevator doors opened, and something sank into her stomach like a lead weight. The end of the line. The end of the night with Byron. Why did that disappoint her so much? She should be focused on work, on composing a report to the Foundation about what had happened tonight and researching whoever this Klaus fellow was, but all she wanted to do was taste his lips again. Years of sex deprivation had finally caught up with her.

  He set her down in front of her door. “Will you be okay from here?”

  No, her mind screamed. He’d left her body aching and needy for more than just a kiss. She should be flattered that he’d left the taxi waiting downstairs, a sure sign that he didn’t want just a random hookup with her. Oh, dear God, was he disappointed with her? Had it been so long since she’d kissed someone that she sucked at it? Only one way to find out.

  She seized the collar of his blazer and pulled him against her, her mouth devouring his. She tasted traces of the Jack and Coke he’d drunk earlier, along with something more primal, more sexual. Desire.

  All semblances of self-control got tossed to the side. He pressed her against the door, pulling her injured leg up until it hooked around his waist and the hem of her dress gathered around her waist. His erection rubbed against her intimate areas, tormenting her with the layers of material that separated them.

  He broke his lips away from hers and trailed them down her neck. The combination of his rough stubble mixed with the gentle flicks of his tongue and teasing nips of his teeth nearly sent her over the edge. Who cared if they were humping in the middle of the hallway? She wanted him to fuck her right here and now.

  “Lana.” He moaned her name like a starving wolf presented with a haunch of fresh meat. His hands cupped her buttocks, raising her ever so slightly so his cock stimulated the exquisitely sensitive nub between her legs.

  A shudder ripped through her body. She reached for the door handle, eager to continue this in her bed. Screw the cab waiting downstairs. She’d pay for the running meter at this point, so long as he left her a satisfied and exhausted puddle of flesh when he finished with her.

  The door flew open beside her, and if Byron hadn’t caught her, they would’ve landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs. A petite Hispanic woman stared at them with round brown eyes.

  Oh, shit, is this the wrong condo?

  Love—it’s the real thing. And complicated as hell…

  The Egyptian Demon’s Keeper

  © 2009 Ciar Cullen

  Archeologist Eliza Schneider assumes her meeting with an exotic stranger in the Egyptian desert was a heat-induced hallucination…until he materializes in New York. She has to give the tall, handsome Egyptian high marks for originality with his pick-up line: they’re fated to save the world together. The master/servant thing goes a long way toward sweeping her off her feet, but it’s easier to believe he’s just another in her long line of poor romantic choices.

  Kasdeya, the Fifth Satan, waited eons for his Keeper to find her way to his tomb amongst the ancient ruins. He only has a limited time to convince Eliza that her role is critical to help defeat the loathsome Deumos, a female demon who has laid her claim to bearing his child—a child that will bring down mortals.

  Trouble is, Eliza doesn’t even believe Kasdeya is real. If he can’t convince her he isn’t an illusion—and neither is their love—Deumos will win.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Egyptian Demon’s Keeper:

  Eliza opened one eye and gulped back a scream. If she was asleep, then the dream was astounding. She wiggled her toes to make sure she wasn’t in sleep paralysis.

  That man was humming. He was two feet away from her, staring at his palms as if a secret message were about to appear on his skin, and humming.

  Okay, she thought, this is pretty bad. Unless the laws of physics had suddenly changed and rain could defy gravity, she had lost her mind, and this guy seemed a permanent part of her new psychosis. At least he was beautiful. Eliza hoped fervently that if she had to remain mad, he would continue to be part of her altered state.

  “You hear about sunstroke killing people, you know, but you never hear about this stuff.”

  He jumped to his feet and stared down at her, running his hand through his long black locks. “I was meditating. You…”

  “I frightened you?”

  His cheeks reddened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Of course not. Mortals cannot frighten me.” He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, as if the stance would somehow convince her that she hadn’t startled him.

  “Mortals? Did you say mortals? As opposed to…non-mortals?”

  “Correct.” He tapped his foot in a very mortal gesture of impatience.

  “This just gets better and better. Okie dokie then. I know I’m supposed to be your keeper or servant or something—isn’t that what you told me in Egypt? Excuse me, should that be ‘the land of pharaohs’?”

  “Correct. You are my Keeper, my servant, and it is the land of pharaohs. I’m pleased you listened.”

  “Great. I’m dying to please my own hallucination. Would my hallucination mind getting me some water?” I have to try to pull it together. What if this is a real guy, and he drugged you? Come on, the door is close enough. Please, God, please let my legs work.

  He gestured to the ornate decanter and glass on the low table. The smirk pulling on his lips ticked her off. So, he knew she meant to make a break for it.

  “I will pour for you of course.” He handed her a glass, and she pushed herself up so she could sip. Mind racing, coming up blank, she concentrated on clearing her head with the water. She stole glances at him, but his expression was impassive. What does a serial killer look like anyway? Why couldn’t one look like a soap opera star? An Egyptian soap opera star? Did they have soap operas in Egypt? I’m in real trouble, no matter how I look at this.

  “Look, if it’s money you’re after, you picked the wrong girl. Maybe the museum would belly up a few thousand for me… Did you drug me? That’s it, isn’t it? You got to my canteen in Egypt…”

  “And then miraculously found you in New York, slipped unnoticed into your office or apartment and put a poison potion in your glass?”

  She shook her head uncertainly. It didn’t explain the raindrops, the change in his appearance from Dr. Kasey Smith to Kasdeya. Nothing was adding up.

  “So, you don’t really know David, and you don’t really work for the museum in Boston.”

  “What gave me away?” He smiled fully for the first time, his eyes coming to life and gentle creases ap
pearing around them.

  Eliza refilled her water glass in a half-hearted attempt to stall. No matter how hard she thought about it, she could only come to one conclusion. The Egyptian desert had robbed her of sanity. Perhaps she was already in an institution and didn’t know it?

  “Where are we?” She glanced around the large room, what seemed like part of a larger suite. “Are we in New York?” The ornate furnishings smacked of something from an Arabian Nights tale, but with modern amenities. “It has that flying carpet thing going on.”

  “Not that again.” His smile faded, and he rubbed at his temples.

  “Sorry. I’m known to give people headaches. Do demons get headaches?”

  Kasdeya took a deep breath and blew it out. Eliza knew that move. She’d watched her mother, David and just about everyone else in her life do it many times.

  “Is the room to your liking? I thought you would feel comfortable with these…things.” He gestured to the furniture uncertainly as if he had carved the intricate woodwork himself and was concerned for her approval. The Fifth Satan was a complicated guy—big, buff, dangerous, easily startled and oddly ill at ease. Did he need something from her? Perhaps he didn’t hold all the cards.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Are. We. In. New. York?”

  “More or less. Would you like to be in New York?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then we are.”

  A mild tremor rolled through the suite. An earthquake in New York?

  “Did you do that?”

  He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “I thought you said you wanted to be in New York. Well, we’re here. Or there. You are a very confused woman, and you’re beginning to confuse me.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what the fuck is going on, Mr. Kasdeya? And if you tell me not to curse, I’ll…I’ll curse again.”

  “I will warn you that some of the answers you seek may come as a bit of a shock.”