by Shona Husk
Lachlan’s nose twitched as a familiar scent of sandalwood overtook the smell of antiseptic.
Then Dayna came around the corner, her dark hair pulled back and her blue eyes sparkling. Lachlan let his muscles ease. A smile took over his lips. She was alive—not just alive, she looked amazing…and she was here to see him. His heart gave an extra thump as it joined in the excitement bouncing through his blood.
“The Council has asked that Ms. Brightwater be watched. I thought you might like the job since you’re going to be out of the field for eight weeks.” Agent Echen gave Dayna a nudge into the room.
Lachlan flicked his gaze from the woman who’d almost killed him and then saved his life back to the vampire. “I can do that.”
“Thought you’d volunteer.” Echen gave him a knowing grin and handed him the paperwork. “I’ll see you round the office.”
“Yeah.” As vampires went, Echen wasn’t too bad. As agents went, he was almost friendly.
The door closed and Dayna and he were alone. She stood near the door, as if unsure what to do. He patted the bed and she came over and sat on the edge, but for a moment neither of them spoke. She was alive, and he really wanted to know what had happened after he passed out.
“How have you been?” He hoped he sounded casual.
“Okay.” She sighed. “The doctor checked me out, and apparently I can’t catch your were-ism virus.” She looked disappointed.
“I’m glad. Most people who get infected die.” He’d known she was unchanged the moment he’d smelled her, and he was relieved. He didn’t want her to change. He liked her the way she was, a little bit magic and a whole lot of hot.
Silence crept between them. Not awkward but not quite comfortable. They’d used each other to survive, shared something most people never experienced and now they had to grapple with the mundane getting-to-know-you part. He put the paperwork on the table.
“Why don’t you tell me how it went with the Council?”
“Weird. They interviewed me and tested my abilities. I gave them the diaries and in exchange they let me go…” Her gaze flickered over his face. “Sort of.”
He knew she would never be totally free of the Council. They might claim to only be interested in full-blooded shamans, but they kept extensive family trees and watched everybody with more than one-quarter shaman heritage.
“What did the Council want?”
“I’m not supposed to do magic.”
“Ah. And if you do I’m supposed to report you.” That was why she needed to be supervised—she was on parole. And Agent Echen had decided he was the person most likely to have her trust and stay close to her. Once that would have concerned him, but now he was grateful for the chance.
Dayna nodded and plucked at the sheets. “That’s a good outcome, isn’t it?”
Lachlan couldn’t keep the smile from curling his lips. “The best.” He covered her hand with his.
“You didn’t call me.”
“I couldn’t, not until the ash had settled on the job.”
“Do you often get shot while working?”
“No. That was a first.” He had been shot at before and also attacked with a sword, but now wasn’t the time to tell Dayna that. “Most of what I do is research and investigation.”
“Finding the un-findable.”
“Yeah.” And he’d found the woman he wanted.
“I found out why Clary and I are different.” Her blue eyes darkened as if the knowledge had opened a wound that was still raw.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” They were hard words to say, considering he’d spent his life searching for information.
“I want you to know. I want you to find out from me—not that.” She pointed to the paperwork on his bedside table. Then she took a breath and forced out the words. “I read my mother’s diaries. My father had a bit of shaman blood. When my mother got pregnant she made sure it was with twins. Then she killed him and used his death to suck the magic out of me to make sure one of her children was a true shaman.”
That was callous even for a Brightwater—sacrificing one baby to ensure one child would be a full-blooded shaman—yet it would have been her only chance to keep the bloodline going.
“I’m sorry you had to learn that.” Some things were best left unknown.
“I’m glad I did. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t keep up with the magic lessons. It was hers.”
“You saved our lives. I think that’s plenty of magic.” His fingers entwined with hers as he brought her hand to his lips.
“I’m sorry for shooting you.”
“I’m fine. The docs took out the bullet.” It had been millimeters from his femoral artery. One more shift and he’d have been dead. Now he had a six-inch scar from where the doctors had rummaged around. While he was itching for a run as a lion, the docs were still worried he’d tear too many stitches. Which he probably would.
It was times like this he felt sorry for the weres not working for Fendrake, because they had to hide a lot more of who they were than he did. With Dayna he didn’t have to hide at all.
She bit her lip and glanced at him from under her lashes. “Can we start over?”
Lachlan pulled her to him. “We don’t need to.”
Dayna smiled, and it was reflected in her eyes. “Maybe I could help you heal a little faster.” She leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on his mouth.
“That would be nice,” he said against her lips, already knowing what she had in mind and looking forward to tasting her again.
“I’ll need to raise some power.” She moved so she was kneeling over him. “I won’t take too much this time.”
“You didn’t last time. It was the blood loss.”
Her fingers traced his jaw. “You’d stop me if I did.”
“I’ll always look after you.” He kissed her, let his tongue glide over her lip as her mouth opened. The hair on the back of his neck spiked as the magic began to build between them. Sweet with a bite. It had taken a shaman to tame the lion in his blood.
“I feel safe with you. Like I no longer have to run.”
He wondered if she’d still feel safe sitting on his lap as his blood was redirected away from his brain. Then again, she’d already seen him naked…and aroused. Her kiss had fried his thoughts even when he was facing death.
Her lips quirked up as she noticed. “I hear there’s a more efficient way to raise power than kissing.” Her fingers trailed down his chest, leaving shivers in their wake.
“Uh-huh.”
She rolled her hips against his. “You want to try?”
He ran his hands up her legs, over her hips and traced the curve of her breasts. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He flicked open the top button of her shirt, but she was already undoing the rest, revealing an expanse of smooth, pale skin.
Lachlan took her mouth in a kiss and was answered with a moan. He didn’t care what Internal Review thought. He wasn’t going to let Dayna go. She was everything he’d been searching the world for, and she was in his arms.
About the Author
A civil designer by day and an author by night, Shona Husk lives in Western Australia at the edge of the Indian Ocean. Blessed with a lively imagination she spent most of her childhood making up stories. As an adult she discovered romance novels and hasn’t looked back. Drawing on history and myth, she writes about heroes who are armed and dangerous but have a heart of gold—sometimes literally.
With stories ranging from sensual to scorching, she is published with Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Carina Press and Sourcebooks. You can find out more at:
www.shonahusk.com
www.twitter.com/ShonaHusk
www.facebook.com/shonahusk
Look for these titles by Shona Husk
Now Available:
Boyfriend in a Bottle
How to Breathe Fire
Freedom comes with a blistering price…
How to Breathe Fire
/> © 2011 Shona Husk
For as long as she can remember, Camea has longed to explore the world beyond the island kingdom of Adar. It is an impossible dream, especially if she follows tradition and marries the farmer her parents have selected for her. But then, Camea has never been one to follow expectations.
When the village witch announces she has been selected to be the Fire God’s next bride, Camea has no intention of sacrificing her life to appease the volcano. She plans to escape and follow the Stars to her dream.
Matai, once a prince of Adar, now pays a fiery penance for seducing one of the Fire God’s witches. He must take a new bride each year, then kill her—or condemn Adar to the lava. Unlike his past brides Camea doesn’t shed one tear for her fate, nor does she beg for her life.
In the face of death she sees the remnants of the man he used to be—and a way to save them both from the Fire God’s never-ending cycle of wrath. If Matai has the courage to trust his heart.
Warning: A hero made of fire, a woman who won’t accept her fate and simmering kisses that will have you reaching for iced water to quench the flames.
Enjoy the following excerpt for How to Breathe Fire:
Camea gripped Matai’s hand, expecting to be pulled through the fire. Instead, she smelled smoke and then she was breathing cool, clear air. She closed her eyes and sucked in lungfuls until the cold made her chest hurt. She was really out of the volcano, out of her oppressive room. She opened her eyes to see where she was. Around her was sky. The night was alive with the beauty of the Stars. She tipped her head to gaze above her. A breeze toyed with the strands of hair around her face. She pushed them away then gathered her hair and lifted it off the back of her neck to let the air rush over the newly exposed skin.
If she spread her arms, would she be able to soar on the air currents? She let her heart rise so she was nothing more than a leaf ready to be whisked away on the next gust.
On her toes she turned. Matai grasped her wrist and she stopped, her gaze dropping from the sky to her feet. Below her the centre of the volcano bubbled. She’d almost fallen in. Matai had brought her to the rim of the volcano. She stepped back, closer to Matai. As she lifted her gaze from the molten rock she gasped. The island of Adar was spread before her, and beyond that the ocean. As her eyes adjusted to the starlit night, the smudges on the horizon took form. Islands.
“It’s a ring,” she breathed.
Adar was one of many island nations, and from here she could see the places she’d only ever heard of but longed to visit. She shivered as her skin cooled. Her body was now used to the heat of the volcano.
Matai slipped an extra bed sheet around her shoulders. The cloth fluttered like wings behind her. Adar was on every breath she took. The scents she’d never noticed when she’d lived among them: salt from the sea, heavy blossoms, sweet fruit and the decaying leaves in the jungle. For a moment she felt a pang of regret, homesickness and longing.
Carved out of the forest and stretching from coast to coast lay the town of Adar. Embraced by sea and fire and forest. From here it looked beautiful, the city in the centre, the port on one side and the farms creeping against the edges of the forest. She would be married by now, sleeping next to the lump of her husband, letting him do what he pleased with her body. Would she be carrying his child already?
Was she missed? The names of the brides were never spoken. Using the names of the dead could summon the hungry ghost. She tore her gaze away and blinked back tears. She wasn’t dead yet.
The ground sighed and she stumbled. Matai caught her, his arm around her waist, their bodies close, skin to skin. She forgot how to breathe as their eyes met. It wasn’t just the fire in his eyes that burned her, there was something else, and he felt it too. She would rather be here on top of the world with Matai for one turn of the moon than in Adar for a lifetime.
The lava below popped with laughter. They both looked away, the moment gone.
Matai walked her back from the edge. “We should go back.”
Camea shook her head. Her throat closed at the thought of endless heat and darkness. Not dead, entombed. “A little longer to watch the dance, please.”
His face tightened. “You can’t escape from here.”
“I know. But here I can pretend I am free. That I will get to visit the other islands and maybe go farther.”
He scanned the horizon. “’Til dawn.”
She spread the sheet on the rock and lay down. It was hard and unforgiving against her back, but above her the Stars turned and she was almost close enough to touch them. She reached up and cupped her hands around the moon. Only men could be in the service of the Stars. They kept maps and prayed for clear sailing for the traders.
“Is it true the traders that come from far away use the Stars to guide them?” She turned her head to look at Matai. He lay next to her, but he watched her, not the sky. The heat in the rock at her back was surpassed by heat in her belly. Longing filled her bones and made them ache. Her tongue traced her lower lip and his eyes tracked the movement, like a skiff about to pounce and take its prey.
He leaned closer until his lips almost touched her. “That’s true.”
His mouth brushed hers with a touch too delicate for one who burned with the fire of a god. Camea responded, tasting and touching. Her finger skimmed his chest. The smooth fabric of his pants swept against her leg as he moved closer. His hand cupped her head. She was dizzy, like she was going to fall from the sky and hit the ground. Her lungs ached for air. Panting, she pulled back. There was a price for this illusion of freedom.
“Will you claim your payment?” She expected the same roughness her betrothed had shown her. That was all right; she could watch the Stars and imagine she was one of them. Anything to be free.
Matai didn’t move. “No. Tonight you have your sky.” And he lay on his back, the Stars reflecting in his eyes like the universe would burn at his touch.
It’s all in good, dirty fun…until the heart raises the stakes.
Sex with a Hex
© 2012 Beverly Rae
Magical Sisters, Book 2
Meg Tristan is spontaneous, spirited, outspoken and beautiful—and she enjoys every second of it. She can have any man she wants, with or without casting a spell. Too bad she hasn’t found one who can keep up with her non-magical sex drive, much less handle her hexual prowess.
When he’s not caring for his patients, Dr. Chance Dannigan spends his off hours getting acquainted with as many women as he can in his new town. None hold his attention—until he catches Meg’s flirtatious glance across the bar. One drink later, he’s sure he’s found the one woman who can stimulate both his heads.
Sensing a kindred spirit, he challenges Meg to a daring competition. Each must choose a random partner for the other, and the one who fails to seduce the target, loses. And to keep it honest? The opponent must witness the act.
Winning each round proves almost too easy. The ultimate challenge is figuring out how to handle their unexpected attraction to each other…and how to end the game without both of them coming out losers.
Warning: Hocus pocus is unleashed along with free lovin’—with no holds barred. One on one leads to two on two in a magical sexual romp that takes playing doctor to a whole new level.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Sex with a Hex:
Chance obviously wasn’t as enamored with Meg as she’d thought he was. But even so, she hadn’t expected him say such rude—not to mention incorrect—things about her. “Not choosy? Me? Listen, you jerk—” she stabbed a finger into the middle of his chest and enjoyed his responding move backward, “—I can have any man I want. Anytime, anywhere, any way. And I’m damned selective in who I take to my bed.”
“I’m sure you are.” Chance took a sip and looked away.
Oh, my stars and moon. Is he placating me?
“I am,” she protested, then cringed at the whine in her tone. She was off balance, disturbed and…damn it all, curious as hell.
H
e turned toward her again, the challenge written on his face. “Right. So, have you taken any of these guys to bed?” He tipped his head toward the crowd.
Meg tore her gaze away from his to scan the people dancing, drinking and having a whole lot more fun than she was having. Yes, she’d had sex with a couple of them. Okay, more than a couple. And, she had to admit, not all of them were winners. But a girl with needs had to do what she had to do, right?
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I know a couple of them and they’re all very nice men.” Ugh, did that sound as lame as she thought it did?
“Right.”
“Will you stop saying that? What point are you trying to make, anyway?” She thought about pushing him off the seat and storming away, but knew it wouldn’t prove anything. Like a spectator drawn to a car crash, she had to see where the conversation led.
“Right. Oops, sorry. There’s that word again. My point is that you can have any man you want.” He cleared his throat, then continued, “As long as that man isn’t too much man for you.”
“Too much man?” Meg scowled, her mind reeling with confusion and disbelief. Did he mean in the bedroom? Was such a thing even possible? Especially if she used magic?
“You know. As in…out of your league.”
“Out of my league?”
“Do you always repeat what people say? Or is what I’m saying upsetting you?” His concerned expression seemed as fake as a three-dollar bill. “I’m sorry if it is, but sometimes the truth is hard to hear.”
A trickle of perspiration crawled down her spine. Had Tom turned off the air conditioning in the club? Or was Chance’s assessment of her—his so off-the-mark assessment—making her sweat? “Are you frickin’ kidding me? Hell, yeah, you’re upsetting me. But not in the way you think.”