by Opal Carew
Vampire romances: Killing the Bloodlust, Deadly Liaisons, Huntress for Hire, Forbidden Love
About the Author:
Bestselling and award-winning author Terry Spear has written over fifty paranormal romance novels and four medieval Highland historical romances. Her first werewolf romance, Heart of the Wolf, was named a 2008 Publishers Weekly’s Best Book of the Year, and her subsequent titles have garnered high praise and hit the USA Today bestseller list. A retired officer of the U.S. Army Reserves, Terry lives in Crawford, Texas, where she is working on her next werewolf romance, continuing her new series about shapeshifting jaguars, and having fun with her young adult novels.
For more information, please visit www.terryspear.com, or follow her on Twitter, @TerrySpear. She is also on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/terry.spear. And on Wordpress at: Terry Spear’s Shifters
http://terryspear.wordpress.com/
Excerpt from FORBIDDEN LOVE another vampire romance available now:
by
Terry Spear
Forbidden Love Copyright © 2010 by Terry Spear
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
Discover more about Terry Spear at:
http://www.terryspear.com/
Dedicated to vampire lovers for all time!
Prologue
Campbeltown, Scotland, 1701
Ephraim MacNeill would kill anyone who stood in his way.
His head held high, his sword readied, he stalked toward the motte and bailey castle in the twilight of the eve. Still not believing his luck at locating Elizabeth’s current place of imprisonment, he feared the rumor a ruse, or worse—a calculated attempt to draw him into the spider’s web. But the sight of a woman paralleling his path in the deepening shadows drew his attention. Her red curls trailed behind her like a knight’s banner, whipping in the breeze, while she fled across the rain-soaked valley. Praise God, his beloved had escaped.
“Elizabeth!” Ephraim sheathed his sword and dashed for her. A thread of joy filled his heart that she appeared unharmed. But despair they’d soon be caught cut short the brief elation.
“Ephraim.” His name half choked, half sounding desperate from her lips made his mouth go dry. Bolting through sweet heather, she altered her course in the direction of his voice.
Elizabeth, his only reason to live his immortal life.
Damn the clan wars that kept them apart. But no more. Tonight he’d blood bond with her and forever... forever they would be joined as mates.
Clouds darkened the sky as the sun sank beneath the earth. Yet with his nocturnal sight, he saw her as clearly as if the golden sphere still lighted their way. She clutched her petticoats high to keep from tripping on them, her knuckles white from the grip. Her creamy cheeks were flushed pink from the nippiness in the air and the rush of her run, while her small, leather shoes crunched on the earth in a frenzied pace.
His heart thundered while he fought the panic rising in his blood. If her brothers or any of the rest of her kin tracked them now…
Concentrating on his vampiric power, Ephraim attempted to fly to her, or to vanish and appear before her, but his new found abilities eluded him at the most dangerous of times. Damn the plague that had made him and others vampiric. And damn the same plague that had made others like Elizabeth and most of her kin stronger, too. Only the bloodlust in their hearts was a different kind. A kind that turned them into hunters of vampires.
Sprinting toward Elizabeth, Ephraim’s boots pounded the wet earth. Her eyes widened, searching for signs of him in the dark.
“Elizabeth,” he said under his breath this time, not wanting anyone to hear if someone suspected she’d already escaped as he closed the distance.
Reaching her, he grabbed her up in his arms, elated to finally hold her again, drugged with her womanly scent. But fear of being caught overshadowed the bliss. He whirled around, then ran back the way he’d come. She smelled of sweet lavender and woman, and he drank in her fragrance with a deep breath, holding her warm body against his in a fevered embrace. A year had he searched in vain for her... a lifetime, craving her soft touch.
“Oh, Ephraim,” she choked out, still trying to catch her breath, “Malcolm will kill us both. Where can we hide?” She burrowed her head against his chest and warm tears trickled down his shirt, stirring his heart.
“An abandoned croft nearby, love,” he whispered against her head, the pleasure he felt in holding her close hampered by the fear he could still lose her.
Because he had several times the strength of men not visited by the plague, she weighed no more than a sack of goose down to him, instead of the weight of a full-grown, curvaceous woman he craved to devour. He held her tightly against his chest while he ran, wanting to reassure her he would protect her now and always.
“For twelve long months have I searched in vain for ye.”
“Aye, and I prayed ye would find me.” She clutched him tighter, her voice full of tears. “Malcolm’s determined to marry me off to my cousin. Oh, Ephraim, if it hadna been for Mary, she risked her life to bring me food and drink that wasna drugged. And she drugged those who guarded my chamber.”
“Your second cousin’s a good lass, love.” He kissed Elizabeth’s bonnie head, his heart soaring like a feathered bird in flight.
For three miles he ran, never tiring. The sky darkened to give them sufficient cover while the scent of peat smoke drifted in the breeze from some distant dwelling. “I’ve booked passage on a ship sailing to the Colonies on the morrow. I’ve changed my name to Sutton Bastrop, and ye will be my wife.”
“‘Tis time ye married me.” Tilting her chin up, she looked him squarely in the eye, teasing him in her devilish way. No matter the dire circumstances they found themselves in, she always had a way of lightening the mood to chase away the dark.
“You were the one who wished your father’s blessing, and once he was murdered by the MacLean, your brother’s,” he reminded her with a kiss on the cheek.
She shook her head, her voice bitter when she spoke. “I was a fool to think they would allow me to marry anyone other than my cousin. Love means naught to any of them. Power and privilege, that’s all that matters.”
“He willna have ye.” Determined to keep her out of her kin’s hands, Ephraim would do anything—give up his title, his lands—anything to have her for his own.
She stared into the darkness, but he knew she couldn’t see a thing, not like he could.
Yet her sense of smell and hearing were vastly improved like a vampire’s. She breathed in more deeply, and he knew she was trying to smell danger anywhere nearby.
“Won’t they look for us there, Ephraim?”
Just the way she said his name, lovingly, stirred his loins. He had been separated from her overmuch too long. “‘Tis off the main road, no worn paths lead to it. None should find us.” At least he hoped not. He had no other place to keep her safe until they shipped off. ’Twas the best he could do after learning of her whereabouts.
He shoved the door open to the hovel, and it squeaked on its hinges.
She shuddered. “I feel as though we have sent a warning bell ringing across the valley.”
“We should be safe for the eve.” He prayed his words would prove true. “We will leave before first light.” He set her on a makeshift straw bed in one corner of the room, the hay still green, soft, leafy, and sweet smelling.
“You just made this bed, love?” Her brows rose in questioning, her lips twitching upward at the corners.
“Aye, as soon as I learned you were being kept hostage in the castle. As soon as it was dark, I intended to free ye and ravage ye here.” He hurried to the door and wedged a rickety wooden chair against it.
She sounded as desperate a
s he felt as she said, “Make love to me, Ephraim. The thought of being with you again is the only thing that kept me alive these past many months.”
’Twas his most fervent desire, yet he wanted much more than that. Crossing the floor, he crouched in front of her and ran his fingers through her silky tresses. “We must blood bond if we are to be together forever, love.” He could not risk losing her again.
She looked at the dirt floor, earthy smelling and slightly damp from the recent shower.
Had she changed her mind? The notion tightened his stomach into knotted hemp. Raising her chin, he gazed into her aquamarine eyes flecked with amber, the eyes he had so longed to see again. “We must.”
She nodded. “Aye.”
“Even if your family is against it?”
“‘Tis my life to give, no’ theirs.” She tilted her chin up, and he saw the determination in her eyes.
He was not waiting for her to change her mind. Forever, they would be together. Forever, soul mates, as one.
Grasping the silver brooch attached to the green and white striped arisaid at her breast, he hurriedly unfastened it. Then he tackled the silver belt secured over the shawl beneath her breast. She began to yank off her petticoats while he worked on her blue jacket and tossed it aside.
“You need to wear less clothing, lass.”
She slapped his shoulder. “And have me called one of those loose wenches?”
Smiling darkly, he pulled off her stays. “If ye wore nay stays, I would indeed call ye a loose woman.” He kissed her cheek, but she tugged at his jacket.
“Hurry, Ephraim.”
***
FORBIDDEN LOVE
available now!
Dead Sexy
by,
Paige Tyler
Copyright © 2013 by Paige Tyler
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author.
Cover Design by Gemini Judson
Dedication
With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband, without whose help and support I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer.
You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant any girl could ask for!
Thank you.
And thank you to the wonderful fangirls on my Street Team. You all rock!
Cursed
Thank God he was good at multitasking, Drake Parrish thought, otherwise he would have had a hell of time focusing on what his elderly client was saying with the man’s beautiful, much younger wife in the room. It didn’t help that she openly flirted with him. Too bad he had a rule about doing married women because he wouldn’t have minded taking her to bed, that was for sure. But banging married women tended to lead to messy situations, so he’d have to pass. That was okay. He was more interested in Bertrand’s money than his wife anyway. The man had millions to invest with Graystone and Burke, the financial firm where Drake worked as an analyst, and Drake was determined to get his hands on that money today.
Drake leaned back in his chair and gave the man a smile. “So, are you going to play it safe, William, or have you decided to go with the high–yield bonds I’ve been telling you about? Remember, big risk means big reward.”
The other man laughed. He was going to go for the big reward, Drake could see it in his eyes. Before Bertrand could reply, however, the door to Drake’s office burst open and an old, black woman stormed into the room. She was tall and thin, her long, dark hair an unruly tangle of curls around her ancient face. For some reason, the look in her dark eyes made the hair on the back of Drake’s neck stand up and he automatically got to his feet as she advanced on him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Parrish,” said his secretary from the doorway. “She just barged right past me.”
“It’s okay, Anne. I’ll take care of it.” He came around to the front of his desk, intercepting the old woman. “Can I help you?”
She didn’t answer, but instead looked him up and down coldly. Drake racked his mind, trying to remember if he’d met her somewhere, but he couldn’t place her face. Maybe she was some poor woman who’d lost all her retirement money in the markets and was at Graystone and Burke looking for someone to blame. Well, she’d picked the wrong shoulder to cry on. He was way short in the sympathy department.
He was thinking maybe he should call Security when she finally spoke. Unfortunately, it was in some foreign language he didn’t understand. He held up his hand to tell the old woman as much when he recognized one of the words she said. Cia.
Drake frowned. Oh, shit.
Cia Devereaux had been a college intern at the investment firm whom he’d seduced on a whim a couple weeks earlier. It hadn’t been that big of a deal. One of his coworkers had bet him a hundred dollars he couldn’t get the shy, quiet girl into bed. Drake had won the bet, but the fallout from the victory had been messy as hell. After only a week of wooing, the naïve Cia had fallen in love with him and actually thought he felt the same about her. It was so ludicrous that Drake had laughed when she’d confessed her feelings for him the morning after they’d had sex. He’d expected Cia to call him a bastard and run out of his office, but instead she’d made a scene, bursting into tears and babbling over and over about how much she loved him. He probably would have been embarrassed for her if it hadn’t been so pathetic.
He groaned inwardly at the memory. The old woman must be the girl’s relative there to chew him out for how he’d treated Cia. Considering the angry way the woman was looking at him, he was definitely going to need Security. She looked as if she was ready to cut off his balls.
Swearing under his breath, he picked up the phone and started to dial the number, only to hesitate as the woman reached into the pocket of the long, gray dress she wore. He tensed, afraid she was going to pull out a gun and shoot him. Shit. But when her hand came out, she held only a fistful of dirt, which she promptly threw in his face.
Drake jumped back, sputtering to get the dirt out of his mouth. While he was relieved she wasn’t toting a gun, he was still damn pissed, especially since he was wearing a ten-thousand dollar suit. Crazy old bitch.
Jaw tight, he wiped the dirt from his face and brushed off his clothes. By the time he lifted his head, the woman was already gone and Bertrand and his wife were staring at him in stunned silence.
Ignoring them, he punched the number for Security. “This is Drake Parrish on the thirtieth floor,” he said when a man named Carter answered. “Some psycho old woman just assaulted me in my office and I want her arrested.”
Drake gave the man a quick description of the woman, then said he’d hold while they picked her up. He didn’t want her ambushing him in the lobby later.
It was a good ten minutes before Carter came back on the line. “I’m sorry, Mr. Parrish, but there’s no sign of her.”
“What do you mean, no sign of her?” Drake demanded. “She was just here.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, sir. She wasn’t on any of the elevators or surveillance cameras and no one else in the building remembers seeing her.”
Drake clenched his jaw. “Well, she didn’t just disappear into thin air. She’s a hundred years old, for God’s sake. Keep looking.”
“Yes, sir.”
Drake slammed the phone down. If he were any other twenty-seven-year-old junior analyst, his order probably wouldn’t have carried nearly as much weight, but thanks to the wealthy clients and millions of dollars he regularly brought in for Graystone and Burke, he was the youngest investment broker with a corner office. When he told someone to do something, they damn well did it.
He swore silently as he abruptly remembered Bertrand and his wife were still there. Giving the couple a smile, Drake brushed off his suit again and sat down at his desk, picking up the meeting right where he’d left off
. While he was a little off his game because of the bizarre incident with the old woman, he still managed to get Bertrand to invest several million dollars in high-yield bonds before the couple left two hours later. Cha–ching. His bosses had been looking for someone to pick up those damn bonds for weeks now. His cut of the commission was going to be huge.
Luckily, the rest of the day was a hell of a lot less eventful. Drake kept an eye out for the old woman as he left the building that night just in case, but there was no sign of her. If it hadn’t been for the foul odor the dirt she’d thrown at him had left on his suit, he might have thought he’d imagined the whole thing.
By the following day, Drake had completely forgotten about the woman. Of course, that probably had something to do with the pair of cute cocktail waitresses he’d hooked up with the night before. Damn, they’d been hot.
He was still thinking about the more adventurous and flexible of the two women when his secretary walked in a few minutes later. She took one look at him and made a face.
“What kind of women have you been going out with lately?” she asked.
His brow furrowed at the question. Though she’d never come out and said so, it was no secret Anne disapproved of his playboy lifestyle. “The usual kind. Why?”
She lifted a brow disdainfully as she dropped a stack of file folders on his desk. “Because from the looks of that hickey you’ve got on your neck, you must have been making out with a chainsaw.”