by Celia Sweet
For Wayne, I yearned and you fulfilled all desires.
eclipsing dawn
Celia Sweet
Detective Dawn Granger loves a man she can never touch. Duncan Craig is enigmatic, gorgeous, immortal, and cursed to spend his days as a stone statue. Their only communication is through the videos and voice messages he sends in his time awake. The man is skilled at captivation and she is desperate to be with him.
Duncan’s curse intensifies his need for control. When faced with Dawn’s strength, loveliness, and intellect his passion to possess her becomes a white-hot craving. Despite the obstacles, he makes a promise. If she frees him from his prison of stone, he’ll help her explore
her hidden desires and bend her to the whims of his erotic demands.
Dawn can’t resist the challenge. She’ll do whatever it takes, even misuse magic, to see Duncan make good on his promise…
All at once erotic, paranormal, and humorous,
Eclipsing Dawn is perfect for late night reads or an afternoon delight.
INSPIRATION SONG: Kiss From A Rose – Acoustic Version
ECLIPSING DAWN, copyright © 2012 by Celia Sweet.
All rights reserved.
By payment of the requisite fees, you have been granted a non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.
The characters in this book do not existence outside the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Published by Celia Sweet, with thanks and acknowledgement to Shirin for letting me run with it.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
eclipsing dawn
Celia Sweet
Chapter One
She woke up beside the statue of the man she loved. Pride brought a smile to her face. No man so beautiful, so utterly male had ever been sculpted out of granite. He lived and walked the world each night. Duncan Craig, her cursed lover. Her love. Not her lover. Not her lover yet, anyway.
Sunlight freed her limbs from the marble that also imprisoned her each night. Dawn’s lungs ached as she breathed in morning air and dew. The first breath hurt the most. Damn the daybreak because her people were as damned as Duncan’s. Long ago her ancestors had abused magic so badly, most people still called them witches. Others said they were sorcerers. Either way Dawn’s ancestors had flown too close to the sun, seeking to rival the gods with their magic. The Powers That Be hadn’t liked the competition and swatted them down, cursing them to spend all their nights as marble sculptures. The Powers could really be a pain in the ass sometimes. Most times. Dawn’s people had lived by the moon, and it fueled their magic. Since they’d been denied moonlight they’d become weaker and dependant on spells.
Duncan’s ancestors had suffered a similar fate. Except they’d been mages, ancient magicians, who made the mistake of bargaining with dark powers to gain their magic. Eventually those bargains gained them their curse.
Dawn grumbled under her breath at the sun, a bitter substitute for the moon. She looked out over New Chicago. The rooftop perch she and Duncan shared stood twenty-two stories high with no easy way up or down, unless you had their permission to enter or to leave. In quiet moments she fantasized about riding Duncan’s thick erection as he balanced her over the ledge. She imagined him thrusting strong and deep into her as the danger of falling made her orgasm two or three times over, in delicious overlapping waves.
She ran the back of her hand over Duncan’s chiseled thigh. Her man must be a magnificent sight in the flesh, but Dawn could only imagine. When he walked the night she slept the stone sleep and vice versa.
Straddling his thigh, Dawn exhaled. One hand cupped the impressive bulge at the front of his statue, the other splayed across the small of his back. She wanted so badly to see him in the night, when the scarlet of his favorite long-sleeved t-shirt would complement the wealth of muscle beneath it. Especially when paired with the blue-grey of his eyes and his tousled onyx hair.
"Ahh," she murmured dreamily, sliding down, then up again, then down and pressing his sculptured thigh into her core until hot moisture soaked her underwear. The smooth yet wind-roughened texture of his stony forearm teased her nipples to life—part pleasure, part pain, and all good. Dammit! Frustration caught in her throat. She craved skin-to-skin contact. She wanted to feel the length of him stiffen in her hand, or her mouth, and to know her body, not the curse, made his erection turn to stone.
All right then, if she weren’t grinding against his statue she might be able to make the fantasy of seeing him in the flesh come true. She had a mission to complete. Tonight was All Hallows Eve. From what they’d learned, it might be their only shot at freezing time and finally being able to touch. She got moving.
Duncan had left their shared smart phone at her feet along with a messenger bag she hadn’t seen before. The dark bag jangled when she prodded it with her toe.
A mental sticky note went up in her mind to remind her to check the bag out later.
Right now, she needed to listen to the message she knew Duncan had left on their phone. Hopefully, he’d outlined what he discovered during the night. And whether they were any closer to freezing time so they could be together.
They’d promised to leave one another video messages, texts, and notes. Otherwise, they’d have no way of keeping up with each other. No way of communicating at all. She reached for the phone and hesitated. She tucked her hands into her pockets. Once she watched his video she wouldn’t get to see him again until tomorrow. There’d be no other contact. Dawn took a moment to savor the anticipation of what her sexy-as-hell man would say, and the way his words, eyes, body, and voice would set her senses on fire.
Eagerness overtook Dawn. Her body grew hotter, wetter. If that were possible. Her nipples throbbed until she took one breast in each hand and squeezed. The gesture ramped up the insistent need to a throbbing ache. Her mind begged her body to stop tormenting her. Treacherous body. It only obeyed Duncan and continued to long for him. Only him.
To distract herself from her desires, Dawn thought back to how she and Duncan met. They’d been partnered as police detectives for a decade, ever since the Powers That Be decided Duncan’s clan of mages, The Cursed Craigs of Scotland, should team up with the witches of New Chicago. The two groups formed a kind of paranormal police force to keep the peace among the magic-users in the city.
Dawn rolled her eyes. The Powers continuously forced them to pay penance. As if they hadn’t lost enough already. The Craigs would never again see the sunrise or farm their beloved homelands by the light of day.
Dawn looked up at Duncan’s handsome, though fierce, expression. A sculpted warrior, he’d bared his teeth to snarl at the coming sunrise. He’d raised his fist as though any moment he’d hurtle into the air and beat the sun into submission for denying him its glow. He would, too. If he could. He might even fight for her love. If he burned for her the way she did for him she didn’t doubt he’d do anything to hold her in his arms.
Snatching up the phone and messenger bag, she whispered her goodbyes. "I’ll be back soon, Dusk," she said, calling Duncan by her nickname for him. Her promise wrapped her in a warmth the sunlight hadn’t managed. Her fingertips caressed a granite bicep as she passed
his statue, and exited the roof.
Duncan and Dawn had moved into the penthouse of one of the buildings his clan owned a year or so before. The Craigs were richer than sin. Actually, they were fabulously wealthy due a global beverage empire, specializing in scotch, bourbon, whiskey, and soft drinks.
As far as Dawn could tell, they both adored their new home. She knew she did, and Duncan seemed content when she watched his videos. Flinging the door to the loft open, she paused in the entryway to breathe her man in. His scent enveloped her, mountain air and aromatic wood—snow and forest. Tantalizing.
The area rugs over their hardwood floors muted the sound of her boot heels as she crossed to the couch. Dawn discarded pieces of clothing as she moved until only her bra and panties remained. She planned to grab a quick shower before heading out later.
Flopping down in the center of the cushions, she dropped the bag beside her and lifted their phone to eye level. At the edge of her vision a screensaver morphed in a variety of abstract shapes. Duncan had left the laptop open on the coffee table. No matter how often she got after him, the man had no concept of going green. He said a big carbon footprint came with a big body. She laughed, making a note to shut the laptop down after she checked her e-mail, but that would have to wait until after she’d heard his voice and seen his face.
Swiping through the icons on the phone, she found the messages and opened the latest.
"Good morning, my jewel."
Duncan’s voice wafted from the phone, a salve to her parched senses. Every morning, his messages reminded her he’d stolen her heart and soul. He’d captured her effortlessly. She hoped she’d done the same for him.
They’d fallen for each other on the job and no one at the precinct had the balls to protest, no matter how many massive floral arrangements or annoyingly cute bears in kilts appeared on her desk. Duncan and Dawn were far too good together, far too lethal and effective a tag-team for their superiors to question. And, besides, it wasn’t like they could actually be together.
Thus their relationship had continued to grow despite the limitations. Their dates consisted mostly of watching movies one of them picked out and leaving messages to discuss. Or they shared videos tours of their favorite places in order to get to know each other better.
Conversations normal couples finished in an hour took Duncan and Dawn weeks, sometimes months. Yet somehow they’d managed to tell one another all their secrets. She’d learned how demanding a lover he would be and she liked it. Dawn had never had a man she couldn’t manhandle; she wanted to relinquish control with a lover she could trust.
Duncan, on the other hand, hadn’t ever fully unleashed his passions with a woman. His darker side would drive most of them away. A shudder rode Dawn’s spine at the thought of how the man dominated in word and action.
But he had another side.
In the line of duty, the updates they left never failed to make the other partner smile. Their love had begun with laughter. Later, Dawn started waking up to gifts. Some of them were left at the foot of her statue, other times she’d enter her apartment and breakfast would be waiting—still hot. Or Duncan would have wrapped up a case and given her the day off.
Best of all, once they’d moved in together, he’d started recording himself reading the books on her nightstand out loud. Nothing compared to curling up in her favorite armchair to watch him read chapter after chapter to her. His reading glasses, precariously perched on his nose, gave him the look of a super sexy barbarian scholar. A half-naked, ancient Scottish warrior in spectacles, his hair wild, scars across his chest, and only a plaid blanket covering his nakedness, could thrill the coldest heart.
Duncan’s voice drew her back into the moment. "We’re almost there. I went out and filled the memorykeeper. I left it for you," he said, holding up the messenger bag in the video. Dawn picked it up from the couch beside her and looked inside.
A tangy scent of molten metal coated the back of her throat. Yuck. She pinched the edge of the flap in two fingers and pulled the bag off the couch, letting it fall to the floor. The contents jangled.
Duncan chuckled. "I’m sure you’ll be making your ugly face when you look inside."
Dawn nodded and exhaled. "You know me too well."
Her gaze returned to the screen. His face lit in the most temptingly sensual expression. The curve of his full lips, the strength of his jaw, and the spark in his slate blue eyes all benefited from his smile. He remained dangerous no matter what expression he wore, but the intimidation factor only made his sense of humor more exhilarating.
"You’ll have to fill the timekeeper," Duncan continued. "Mr. Atreyu’s shop opens at ten a.m. After you meet with him, the Grant Park Crone will be waiting for you."
Dawn nodded. Activating the timekeeper might be tricky, but Atreyu’s mob-boss-without-a-mob reputation didn’t scare her. The thugs of New Chicago called her the witch with a capital B. Mr. Atreyu would be wise to seek last rites from a priest before attempting to block her path. He had what she needed. Nothing and no one would keep her from finally touching Duncan.
"I’ve been dreaming about claiming you, my jewel," he said from inside the phone. His tone had deepened into a husky rumble. Dawn closed her eyes and let the echo of his affection wash over her. He called her "his jewel" because he said her skin shimmered like a precious stone.
"And with the thought of making you beg for it until you’re hoarse, I’m concluding the business portion of this morning’s program. Switch to the laptop."
Dawn laughed to herself. Duncan got bossy when aroused. She reached for the computer but he hadn’t finished.
"Before I forget, the pictures you left me were a nice surprise. Really nice.” He moistened his bottom lip. “I had no idea you were so flexible." He paused to raise an eyebrow. "Dammit, Dawn."
The video message ended abruptly, and Dawn tossed the phone aside. She leaped to wake the computer up and her body vibrated with renewed anticipation. Duncan had left a video player on full screen. She clicked the arrow on the player. The video started and she sucked in her bottom lip.
Duncan reclined on the couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, one leg propped against the coffee table. It seemed a perfectly normal way to begin a conversation, except for his complete nakedness. Lord love him, the man’s body needed to be explored with lips, tongue, fingers and even teeth.
In his free hand, he held a cocoa colored bottle of lube. Dawn picked the same bottle up from the coffee table. It smelled and tasted like chocolate, and Duncan knew she liked it best.
He tipped the lube upside down and tapped it against his knee. She’d given him this particular brand because the liquid heated through friction. But her body didn’t require friction to combust. The sight of him naked with that lusty look on his face took care of ignition nicely.
She didn’t know where to put her hands first. With one, she yanked her bra down under her right breast and rolled the nipple between her fingers; her other hand stroked the source of the moisture spreading between her legs. The swollen flesh ached at first, then throbbed with each subsequent touch. Her body trembled as the pressure built. She arched off the couch, imagining Duncan’s fingers, his lips and tongue where her hands were. It wasn’t enough. Every part of her yearned to be touched, to be covered by his big body and pumped long and strong until he rocked her to sleep.
On the screen, Duncan took one arm down off the couch and poured a liberal amount of lube into his hand. "I left you a gift," he said, casually flipping the bottle away. He threw that arm over one of the cushions. "It’s under the table in front of you."
Dawn watched, mesmerized as he ran his slick hand up and down his hardened length. It grew fuller, each advance and retreat hiding and revealing the broad tip.
Am I drooling?
She touched the corner of her mouth with her second finger but kept her eyes on Duncan. He paused and fixed his gaze on the spot he’d known she’d be sitting in.
"Don’t. Stop," she said on a b
reath.
"Dawn." He seemed to answer. "The box."
Dawn leaped for the coffee table a second time, pulled the dark blue box from beneath it, and placed the gift on the tabletop. The package matched the size of a hardcover book.
The intensity of the moment drove her near to nail biting. She lifted off the lid, slowly, and her mouth dropped open in delight. Yes. Oh, yes. She looked back up at the screen.
Her man unleashed that devilish grin of his. His timing as always remained impeccable. "Why yes, madam," he said with a hint of brogue, "that is a mold of my…” He looked down at himself and pumped his fist meaningfully. “…only the mold is smaller. I want you wet and ready for me tonight, so I don’t hurt you. But.” He paused again. “I still want you tight.”
His expression changed. The playful lover replaced by the demanding barbarian he kept hidden beneath the veneer of a modern Scotsman. His jaw firmed. The blaze in his eyes pinned her in place. “Put it inside you and don’t take it out. I’ll know if you do. And I’ll make you pay for it.”
Dawn shuddered. A part of her wanted to refute his command but her interior walls began to spasm and she could barely breathe. Her body didn’t care about her pride.
Duncan continued, stroking himself in languid movements. "You don’t want me to have to punish you, do you? You’re already in trouble for wasting time molesting my statue. Don’t think I don’t know about your habit of doing that. I can smell you on me when I wake up."
Dawn yelped, but no glow of embarrassment touched her cheeks. Now he knew how fully her desire had overtaken her morning routine.
"Before you go out." Duncan said, his breathing quickened as he reveled in the pleasure caused by his hands. "Be safe out there."
He stopped and stared at her intently. His presence filled the room, leaving her paralyzed. "I want you to keep one thing in mind as you work toward our goal today."