Out of the Shadows: Shadow Warrioes, Book 1

by Gabriella Hewitt

  “I grant you seven days. Use them wisely.” The two gods faded from sight, Chica’s laughter sprinkling over them like raindrops. Water ran through the riverbed, and green grass and plants sprouted, covering up all signs of battle.

  Tomás gathered Carolina in his arms. “I’ve never had a vacation. What do humans do?”

  Carolina smiled. “They travel, visit places, relax.”

  “I’ve seen the world and have spent my whole existence traveling. I have, however, never relaxed.”

  Carolina’s smile grew wider. “I think I know a great way to relax.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Does it involve a bed?”

  “Oh, yes.” She reached up and nipped his chin with her teeth.

  His expression became serious. “Carolina, we are tied together for eternity. You gave me back my humanity and I took your freedom.”

  “Is that all there is between us, a matter of debt?”

  “No.” He sounded offended. “In your arms, I discovered love. I am alive.” His eyes burned bright with meaning, flashing amber and gold.

  Carolina snuggled into him, relishing the feeling of being in another’s arms. “Then I am the luckiest woman in the world and I have an eternity to show you exactly why.”

  About the Author

  Gabriella Hewitt is the pen name of creative writing talents Sasha Tomaszycki and Patrizia M.J. Hayashi. Together they weave tales of romantic suspense and dangerously sensual paranormals, delivering on their promise of Excitement, Suspense, and Passion. Check out the website www.GabriellaHewitt.com to find out about upcoming releas events on their blog and free recipe booklets.

  Look for these titles by Gabriella Hewitt

  Now Available:

  Dark Waters

  Coming Soon:

  Shadow Vision

  The gods play…and mortals pay.

  Bad Blood

  © 2011 Lucienne Diver

  Latter-Day Olympians, Book 1

  Tori Karacis’s family line may trace back to a drunken liaison between the god Pan and one of the immortal gorgons. Or…maybe it’s just coincidence that her glance can, literally, stop men in their tracks. While her fear of heights kept her out of the family aerobatic troupe, her extreme nosiness fits right in with her uncle’s P.I. business.

  Except he’s disappeared on an Odyssean journey to find himself. Muddling through on her own, she’s reduced to hunting (not stalking, because that would just be weird) brass-bra’d Hollywood agent Circe Holland to deliver a message…only to witness her murder by what looks like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.

  Suddenly, all of her family’s tall tales seem believable, especially when Apollo—the Apollo, who’s now hiding out among humans as an adult film star—appears in her office, looking to hire her. She knows the drill: canoodling with gods never works out well for humans, but she’s irresistibly drawn to him. Maybe it’s her genes. Maybe not.

  Given her conflicted feelings for one hot and hardened cop, it’s a toss-up which will kill her quickest. The danger at her door…or her love life.

  Warning: Contains pot-boiling passion between a heroine who may—or may not—be a descendent of Medusa, and a hot god and a hunky copy with the…equipment…to handle her, even on her worst bad-hair day. Beware of killer kisses, trickster gods and bearded grandmothers Who Know Everything.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Bad Blood:

  “I need a bath,” I croaked, hand to my throat as if it would make any difference. “Right now I feel like I’d pass out bending over to start the water. I’d never have called you to begin with if—” my voice gave out, which was probably a good thing, given that what had been coming out sounded all wrong in my head. I swallowed and tried again, softer. “Not that you were my last choice. Just—I need a girlfriend.”

  Armani looked at me like a suspect he intended to crack, as if every word spoken had some other meaning. Finally, he swiped a hand hard over his face.

  “Look, you witnessed a murder, came face-to-face with the killer. We probably should have set some sort of watch on you right from the first. My fault. But—dammit, by the time you’re through flirting and baiting, it’s a wonder I remember my own damned name,” he growled.

  I was flummoxed. “So I do get to you.”

  He practically glared. “Yeah, like that’s a freakin’ newsflash. Why else do you do it?”

  “Because I can’t help myself,” I answered.

  Damn and double damn. I should have stuck with the pen.

  My admission didn’t seem to make him any happier. “Look, you’re a witness in an ongoing investigation.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And a pain in my ass.”

  I was tired, I was soaked to the bone, but as much as I wanted that bath and my bed…

  “So?” I challenged.

  “So, we can’t do this.”

  “Do what?” I asked, exasperated. “We’re not doing anything—”

  In the blink of an eye, Armani had risen from his chair, taken my face in his hands and shut me the hell up with a kiss. And not just any tentative little first kiss—a breath-stealing, heart-pounding, fade-to-black kind of showstopper. I found I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I’d thought. With minds of their own, my fingers buried themselves in his hair, reveling in the feel of the thick strands, kneading his scalp. My thoughts scattered as his tongue thrust inside my mouth and I gasped in reaction.

  His hands slid from my face, down over my wet camisole, just brushing my breasts before settling on my hips. I was no longer cold—superheated was more like it—but wet was another matter.

  Armani pushed himself away. Without looking at me, he muttered, “I’ll start the water running and wait just outside the door so I can hear you if you fall.” And he escaped into the only other room in my apartment, the bathroom.

  My head fell to the table in frustration and sudden weakness. In the time it took him to get things ready, a series of unworthy thoughts flitted through my mind—pulling him in with me, faking a fall, flat-out asking him to wash my back. But I wasn’t going to trick Armani into anything. He either wanted me or he didn’t.

  Still, I couldn’t help a bit of teasing, allowing a breast to brush his arm as he escorted me to the bath.

  “I may need help with these wet clothes,” I said, damaged throat making it come out all husky.

  He shot me a sidelong look. “At this point, I don’t think the bath would do those clothes any harm.”

  “Such a gentleman,” I answered with a roll of my eyes.

  “I am a gentleman. That’s why you’re on your own with those clothes.” Then he decided to turn my teasing back on me. “Besides, if I were to take them off, I’d need to taste you right—” the hand not supporting me rose to ever-so-gently slide over my throat until his thumb caressed the hollow, “—here.”

  My nipples practically stood at attention, pushing noticeably against my camisole. The look he gave me was hot enough to scorch and smug besides.

  I had no comeback.

  “Speechless? Hmm, I’ll have to remember that.”

  Who says getting eaten by a shark is a bad thing?

  Maximum Witch

  © 2011 Jodi Redford

  That Old Black Magic, Book 3

  Willa Jameson is having one whopper of an identity crisis. Odd memory flashes that aren’t hers. A sultry voice in her head that’s obsessed with sex. Even weirder, she finds herself in the jaws of a rogue leviathan, dragged to the bottom of the ocean—and rescued by a hunky…shark?

  The last thing Sheriff Max Truitt expects to find on his daily, deep-Atlantic patrol is a human—especially one who breathes underwater. Compelled to take her home, he waits for the beauty to wake up and reveal her name. Instead he’s treated to a punch in the nose, then a sexy romp hot enough to boil water.

  The next morning, embarrassed by the sizzling, scandalous things the voice in her head drove her to do, Willa slips away. But if there’s one thing a determined shark ex
cels at, it’s tracking his favorite meal.

  Solving the mystery that is Willa is no simple task. When they finally unlock a dangerous secret hidden deep in her subconscious, it drives a wedge between them…and puts them in a desperate race against an evil that seeks to rain down a watery Armageddon on all mankind.

  Warning: This book does not contain sex with a puffer fish. There’s not even sex with a seahorse. However, there’s plenty of smoking-hot lovin’ with a shark. And even a steamy M/F/M threesome. So slap on your snorkels and swim fins, things are about to get wet and wild.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Maximum Witch:

  A sparkling blue pool shimmered in front of Willa. She stared at the man ascending from its depths, gleaming rivulets of water streaming down his muscular flanks.

  If this is a dream or hallucination, please, goddess, don’t wake me up.

  The man glanced over his shoulder at her, and she realized it was Max. His come-hither smile was an invitation to pure sin. She gulped.

  “Join me, Willa. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  She inched forward, her focus dropping to the eddying pool of water. Trepidation sluiced inside her veins. She couldn’t go in there. If she did…bad things would happen.

  “No, you’re safe.” Max coaxed her closer. “I’ll protect you. Always.”

  His sincerity beckoned, as did the wicked promise of his delectable body. He was the sole possessor of precisely what she needed. She had no idea how she knew that, but the truth of it rang loud and clear. Max reached for her, and she stepped into his embrace. The water’s satin glide stroked her flesh, sending a splinter of alarm through her.

  “I’m here.” Max’s lips brushed hers in a soft caress, the thickness of his erection bumping into her stomach.

  Oh yes. He was definitely there. All ten inches of him.

  Clearly her inner slut was a size whore to notice such things.

  His tongue delved inside her mouth, teasing hers into lush play. A breathless whimper escaped her. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to a flat rock jutting from the center of the pool. With gentle reverence, he settled her onto its slick surface and climbed over her, kissing her again. Eyes drifting shut, she lost herself to the sensuality overtaking her. “Max…”

  A horrible screech filled the air and she snapped her eyes open. Max was gone.

  He’d left her. Left her to drown. Panicked, she scrambled to the middle of the rock. Shaking with fear, she cowered in the face of the relentless waves foaming around her, surging ever closer to the protective stone ledge. The terrible shrieking recommenced. Convinced her brain would explode from the unbearable noise, she clamped her hands over her ears. A female figure rose above the surf, her long, silvery-blonde hair whipping frantically in the brewing tempest. Cold dark eyes flashed with hatred. “You will all die. Every last one of you.”

  Behind the spectral vision, a terrifying wall of water crested into a towering peak. Its roar deafening, the tidal wave swelled, crashing into the rock.

  Willa jerked into a sitting position, the frightening nightmare slowly dissolving. She stared into the darkness shrouding the bedroom, her heart galloping out of control. What the hell was that? Fingers trembling, she pushed aside a damp lock of hair sticking to her cheek.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d experienced these dreams that felt all too real. But this one had seemed even more…vivid than the others.

  She scooched back onto the mattress and curled onto her side. Hugging the pillow to her chest, she sucked in a series of deep, calming breaths, attempting to get her pulse under control. She hated this part of her strange episodes—the jagged-edged panic that clawed at her insides like a beast determined to escape.

  “You don’t have to be afraid.” The sultry voice sprang into Willa’s head, making her jolt.

  She knew that voice. Though she’d never actually heard it use audible words, it’d called to her countless times in the past week, usually moments before she blacked out.

  Panting in frantic desperation, she buried her head in the pillow. A distinctly feminine laugh floated inside her mind. Willa gnashed her teeth. Freaking great, the damn voice thinks my psychosis is hilarious.

  “He can help you.” The pronouncement came with a seductive ripple of heat. “He possesses what you truly need.”

  “Who?” The question popped from Willa before she could smother it, and she growled. She was already a walking candidate for a padded cell. Talking to the voices in her head would only guarantee her lifetime residency.

  “You already know the answer.”

  Almost as if it’d been choreographed, a rumbling snore broke from Max. A responding surge of moisture dampened the crotch of her panties. Damn it. Wasn’t being nuttier than a Snickers bar enough to deal with? Was it really necessary to heap being weirdly aroused by snores on top of it?

  The voice chuckled, and Willa mentally gave it the bird.

  “Go to him.”

  “Shut up,” Willa whispered fiercely. “I’m not listening to you anymore.”

  “Oh, yes you are.”

  She opened her mouth to tell the taunting voice to go find another head to harass just as an overpowering wave of lust flooded her. Gasping, she clenched her thighs together, but that only seemed to intensify the sensation. She writhed, even the slide of her skin against the sheets an agonizing torment.

  “He can make it all better.”

  “You’re going to pay for this.”

  “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

  She flung the pillow to the foot of the bed and tried rolling onto her other side, but her body refused to cooperate. Max moved restlessly in his sleep, and the blanket twisted around his hips. She stared at the intriguing shadow play along the defined ridges of his abdomen. Desire, thick and headier than anything she’d experienced, shimmered through her. “Oh Goddess.”

  Shivers wracking her, she swung her legs over the edge of the mattress and stumbled toward Max. Her legs were useless as putty and she nearly fell on top of him. He grunted, instantly jerking awake. “Willa, what is it?” His hands automatically steadied her and he cursed. “You’re burning up. I better call Boone.”

  “No. You have what I need.”

  “You’re feverish. Let me—” He broke off with another grunt when she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. His eyes widened. “Willa?” The word came out garbled, but there was no mistaking the confused shock underlying it.

  She released him and licked her way inside his mouth, her tongue curling around his. Her fingers splayed on his chest, absorbing the shaky timbre of his groan. He was delicious beyond words. Scraping her teeth along his bristly jaw, she made her way to the underside and nipped him before sucking the tender spot with enough force to leave a hickey.

  “Jesus. Sweetheart, what’s going on here?”

  She lapped an upward path along his neck, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath her exploring tongue. Continuing her journey north, she bit his chin. “I’m having you.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “You’re right. It’s a brilliant one.”

  “You damn well know that isn’t what I meant.”

  “And you talk too much,” she admonished before kissing him again with hungry relish. She stretched flat on top of him, and his body tensed. The T-shirt rode up, leaving nothing but the thin nylon of her panties as a flimsy barrier to the warm flesh of his belly. There could be no possible way he didn’t notice how unbelievably aroused she was.

  She got her verification when his palm slid over the curve of her ass and dipped between her legs. A tremor ran through him. His resistance melting a fraction, he coasted his fingers over the soaked crotch of her bikini, creating a slick friction. “You’re so fucking wet.”

  If she’d possessed the tiniest modicum of willpower to ignore the powerful need combusting inside her, the gravelly wonder in Max’s tone proved to be her downfall. Scooting up, she wrestled the shir
t off before doing the same with her bra.

  Max’s gulp echoed in the room, his focus glued to her breasts. “We should wait—”

  “No. Now.” Seeing he was going to balk again, she wiggled down his torso and hooked her thumbs into his sweats, tugging them down. He’d gone commando. How very considerate of him. Saliva pooling in her mouth, she ogled the thick, rigid column of his shaft before taking it into her mouth. Tuning out Max’s startled intake of air, she sucked halfway down his length, using her hand to take care of the rest.

  “Fuck.” Max’s hips jerked as she gave the root of his cock a sinuous pump.

  She released the bulbous head with a juicy pop and concentrated on the tiny slit, flicking her tongue with teasing, kittenish licks. He swelled even more, pulsing within her grip. Another shuddering moan fell from him, and his hand covered hers. “Come here and let me taste you.”

  Wonderful as that sounded, she had a different plan. The fierce desire pushing her wouldn’t be appeased by anything less than penetration at this point, and she wanted—no, needed—every scrumptiously hard centimeter of him filling her. Sitting up once more, she maneuvered the crotch of her panties, making room for Max. He blinked when he caught on to her intention, and he scrambled to sit up. “Willa—” His protest morphed into a rough exhale as she impaled herself on his impressive girth.