by Jodi Redford
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam surveyed the vast wasteland stretched before him. A few gnarled trees broke the endless vista, but that was about it.
“Well shit. Ain’t this about as ironic as death gets.” The amused drawl came from behind Sam. He pivoted and locked gazes with the individual across from him. The man wore a long brown leather duster and spurred boots. He looked vaguely familiar. The stranger whisked off his cowboy hat and smacked it against his leg. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“Should I?”
The man removed his cigar and tossed it to the parched earth. “Billings, Montana. 1963. Ring any bells?”
It was the year he’d been reassigned to Nettie. Within the first week of his indenture to her, she’d dispatched him to harvest well over a hundred souls. Billings had been one of the cities on the list. “I stole your soul, didn’t I?”
“Yep.” The man sent a wad of spit toward the ground. “I begged you to spare my wife and child. You did.”
A cramp twisted through Sam’s innards as the suppressed memory of that particular hunt ambushed him. The punishment Nettie meted out for his disobedience had been nothing compared to the guilt that’d gripped him when he’d witnessed the wife and child’s unspeakable grief while they’d stood over this man’s grave. That had been the one and only time Sam had paid his respects to the fallen victims of his profession. After that, he’d begun building his defensive wall and hardening his heart.
Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. “Are you here to settle the score between us?” Not that he would blame the guy. He’d do the same thing if he were in this man’s shoes.
“Nope. I’m here to help you.”
Sam frowned. “With what?”
“Freeing yourself from Death.”
Awareness finally kicking in, Sam reevaluated his surroundings. “I’m dead, aren’t I? And this is Hell.”
The man shook his head. “It’s somewhere in between. Kind of a waiting room to the greater beyond.”
Sam pondered the man’s earlier confession. “Why would you want to help me escape Death? Especially after what I did to you?”
“Because you spared my family.” The man scratched his jaw. “One good turn deserves another.”
Sam grunted. “There’s not one damn good thing about me.” No, that wasn’t entirely true. He had Marabella’s love. She was the ray of goodness that resided in his heart.
He recalled the tears in her eyes before she’d dispatched him to the Death Wards. Remembered her heartfelt plea. “Hurry back to me, Sam.”
He stared at the stranger standing in front of him. This man hadn’t made it back to his family. Sam had seen the grief and misery that’d caused. The pain in his belly intensified as he imagined putting Marabella through that. He didn’t like the notion of her in tears over him. Just like he didn’t want to think of never seeing her again.
Damn it, he’d survived the Death Wards. Even survived a pack of fucking hellhounds. Death wasn’t sinking its claws in him yet. “How do I get back?”
“Easy. You jump.”
“What?” As Sam voiced the word, a tunnel of light appeared before him. It was an exact duplicate of the one that’d led him to Pricilla’s mansion.
“Better catch your ride before it passes.”
Sam broke into a run, his legs eating up the ground as the tunnel began moving away from him. He risked one look over his shoulder. The stranger was gone, but his voice whispered on the wind. Jump.
And that was exactly what Sam did. He hurtled through the tunnel and slammed into his body. Gasping, he heaved up from the mattress. The sextet of reapers gathered around the bed all nodded in greeting before giving each other the thumbs-up and walking to the door.
Bemused, he watched them file outside. Raised voices sounded, and a moment later Marabella rushed into the room. She slammed to a halt and stared at him before bursting into tears.
Despite his previous assertion about not wanting her to cry over him, he had to admit it did his heart good to see the evidence of her love for him. He had no idea what strange twist of fate deemed him deserving of receiving it, but he was damn well going to do everything in his power to prove himself worthy. “Come here, Bella.”
With no further prompting, she raced toward him. He opened his arms, and she dove into his embrace. He hugged her closer to his chest, but she immediately pulled back, concern washing across her features.
“Your injury.” Her gaze dropped and she gasped. “It’s gone!” As if she wasn’t certain whether to believe her own eyes, she probed the spot where his bullet wound had been. “Those reapers saved your life.”
“No, baby. You did.” Holding her tight, he brushed his lips over hers. “You’re my love. My light. My happiness.” He stroked her cheek. “My everything.”
A sudden deluge of tears escaped Marabella’s lashes and wet his fingertips. “I love you, Sam.”
“I love you too, my sweet Bella.”
Blinding joy radiated from her in massive waves. “That sounds just as wonderful coming from your mouth as getting to hear it in my head.”
He chuckled before letting his damp fingers rove her skin and trace her jaw. “You’re the one who told me I have a voice. Well, I intend to use it to declare my love. A lot.”
“Speaking of voices…” Marabella bit her lip. “I’ve been thinking about what Pricilla said. About your freedom. I’m going to go before that damn demon council and demand they release you from any contracts they’re holding on you.”
He read the fierce determination in her eyes and grinned. Marcus and his council were about to come up against one angelic force to be reckoned with. They didn’t stand a devil of a chance.
“Furthermore, I’m going to release you from our contract.”
His humor faded. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled.
“Sam, I don’t want you to feel indentured to me.”
“This is a partnership, remember? Besides, I like having the sweet voice of my moyet inside my head. It makes me feel even more connected with you.”
She frowned. “Moyet?”
“Mate.”
Her eyes widened, seconds before a beautiful smile lit her face. “Hmm, moyet. I think I like the ring of that.”
He drew her close again, and they indulged in a lush, exploring kiss. The light within his soul glowed brighter, banishing any remaining dark shadows of his previous life. “Me too, Bella. Me too.”
About the Author
At the ripe age of seven, Jodi Redford penned her first epic, complete with stick figure illustrations. Sadly, her drawing skills haven’t improved much, but her love of fantasy worlds never went away. These days she writes about fairies, ghosts and other supernatural creatures, only with considerably more heat.
She has won numerous contests, including The Golden Pen and Launching a Star.
When not writing or working the day job, she enjoys gardening and way too many reality television shows.
Currently residing in Michigan with her husband and overgrown lapdog, she is a member of RWA national and Greater Detroit Romance Writers of America.
She loves to hear from readers. You can email her at [email protected] and visit her online at www.jodiredford.com.
Look for these titles by Jodi Redford
Now Available:
Taking Liberty
Light My Fire
Vanessa Unveiled
The Naughty List
That Old Black Magic
That Voodoo You Do
The Seven Year Witch
Maximum Witch
Thieves of Aurion
Lover Enslaved
Coming Soon:
Cat Scratch Fever
Breaking Bad
Makin’ a list, and rocking it…twice.
The Naughty List
© 2011 Jodi Redford
Perpetual good girl Lacey McGuire has two Christmas wish lists. One suitable for public consumption…and a private
one that’s too hot to handle. Right at the top: wild, wicked fantasies about her best buddies and business partners Ryan Hollister and Bram Colton.
Besides the fact they’re both poster boys for Hunks ’R’ Us, they’ve been there for her through thick, thin and the heartbreak of a cheating fiancé. So what if her boys will never know they star in her sexiest daydreams? In her fantasy world, her heart will never get trampled again.
Ry and Bram are pretty sure Lacey never meant to email a list of some of her raunchiest wants. Particularly the one that tightens their shorts—she wants a threesome. With them. Although they’ve loved her for years, they made a pact to keep Lacey off limits in order to protect their friendship. Now all bets are off. And the quest to give her all she wants—and more—is on.
Warning: This book contains a wickedly hot M/F/M ménage that will heat up the holidays. Friends steaming things up in a hot tub. Bondage and blindfolds. Sexy shenanigans at a Christmas tree lot. And maybe even a glimpse of Santa…in a Speedo.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Naughty List:
Bending, Bram slid his mouth over hers. The contrast of his warm lips and breath against her colder flesh was startling. His heat managed to kindle her body in more ways than one. By the time he broke the kiss, her inner temperature had skyrocketed by at least one hundred degrees. They pulled apart and she peeked sideways. Ry was staring at them, his eyes dark and intense. There was no mistaking the obvious bulge tenting the fly of his jeans.
Wow, did watching her and Bram kissing turn him on? The notion was both odd and arousing. Ry had such a strong possessive streak. She could only guess that he tended to be just as territorial when it came to his women.
Mulling back over that last thought, she realized where her misassumption lay. She wasn’t Ry’s woman. Why would he care who kissed her? Furthermore, of course he’d be aroused witnessing the kiss between her and Bram. For Pete’s sake, the two men intended to do a hell of a lot more than that with her together.
The reminder brought her jittery nerves back to the forefront. If she were to be completely honest with herself, what terrified her most was the possibility of being a huge disappointment to Ry and Bram. Smothering her sigh, she knelt and unzipped her boots before tugging them off. She couldn’t help being grateful for the radiant heating Bram had installed with his parquet floors. Her toes curling in appreciation of the cozy warmth, she straightened and hugged her chest.
“How about a glass of wine?” Bram offered, heading toward the kitchen. “I just opened a bottle.”
A fifth of tequila was more in order, but she kept the thought to herself. She didn’t want them to assume she needed to get snockered in order to go through with this. Even though she probably did.
Ry’s palm rubbed her tensed back, and she looked up at him. With his free arm, he gestured toward Bram, indicating that they should follow him.
Good idea. Standing all night in the entry clearly wouldn’t get them anywhere fast. Feeling like a doofus, she allowed Ry to lead her into the kitchen. While Bram grabbed a pair of crystal stemware from the rack and a cold beer from the fridge for Ry, she scooted onto one of the leather-capped barstools fronting the center island. She’d sat on this very seat numerous times, but she’d never once experienced the level of stomach-churning anxiety that she did now.
Where was the sexy Lacey from her fantasies? Figures the damn wench would abandon her in her time of need.
Bram settled her wineglass in front of her, and she picked it up to take a fortifying sip. A warm, mellow glow spread through her as the Shiraz settled in her belly. The aroma of garlic and red chilies carried from a pan sizzling on the stove. She licked her lips. “Is that Kevin’s Penne Arrabiata?”
“Yep. I’m just reheating it a bit. It’ll be ready in a sec.”
Both Bram and Ry knew the dish was her absolute favorite. It was just one of the countless insider scoops they had on her. Knowing they’d deliberately chosen her most beloved comfort food settled her nerves and her stomach. These two men practically knew her better than she knew herself. They’d been there for her through some of the toughest times in her life. If there was anyone she trusted to embark on a sexual discovery with, it was them.
This would work. She’d make damn sure of it. Gulping another sip of wine, she silently armored her determination. Her fingers no longer displaying the trembling she’d suffered moments ago, she pushed the glass closer to the middle of the island and turned toward Ry. He smiled at her in the adorable way that always made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Leaning forward, she crushed her mouth over his, earning his harsh intake of breath. His surprise didn’t last long though. Groaning, he tangled a hand in her hair, slanting her head as his tongue delved past her lips.
He kissed her like he was giving a demonstration of how he intended to make love to her—hot, deep and consuming. His other hand moved to her breast and caressed it through her clothing. A frustrated growl rumbled from him, and he reached for the hem of her sweater and tugged it upward. He broke their kiss and guided her arms over her head. She realized what he intended to do. Rather than protest, she allowed him to remove her sweater and toss it on the stool behind him.
His gaze raked her torso, lingering on the plumped cleavage peeking above the silk cups of her pink demi bra. Without saying a word, he unhooked the front closure. The weight of her breasts pushed the bra open slightly. Running his fingers beneath the straps, Ry eased them down her shoulders, forcing the garment to separate from her flesh in agonizingly slow increments. His Adam’s apple bobbed, a sure sign that his lazy, tormenting movements affected him just as much as her. The edges of the silk caught on her nipples, the teasing rasp springing a moan past her lips.
Finally the fabric released her from its taunting hold, completely baring her to Ry’s heated gaze. “Christ, you’re fucking beautiful.”
A soft scuff sounded to the left, and she turned her head to see Bram standing beside her. She’d been so ensnared in Ry’s focus she hadn’t heard Bram approach until then. Like Ry, he was staring at her with a dark, ravenous hunger. “He’s right, Lace. Your breasts are gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.”
She’d always worried they were too big, especially in the sense that they’d sag and not exactly be perky the older she got. But judging from Bram’s and Ry’s enamored expressions, saggy boobs were the last concern on their minds. As if to verify her assumption, Ry cupped her breast, her flesh overflowing his palm. His thumb flicked over her puckered nipple, and she gasped, a pleasurable shiver coursing along her spine. His pupils dilated, making his eyes look dark and sexy as sin. Massaging her breast, he leaned down and traced her areola with the tip of his tongue before kissing the pebbled nub. Her breath hitched and her head fell back, her eyes sliding shut. They flew open a second later when Bram’s mouth closed around her other nipple.
They were both licking and sucking her breasts. Oh God. She’d fantasized about this very thing thousands of times yet nothing could compare to the mind-blowing reality of it. The pleasure was so intense, she worried she might pass out from it. Her fingers sifted through Ry’s and Bram’s hair, holding them close. Although they were equally devoted to worshipping her breasts, their style and technique came with differences. Intriguing, exciting differences that only fueled her arousal to a fever pitch. Bram’s focus was strictly concentrated on her nipple, alternating between teasing flicks of his tongue and long, luscious suckling. Ry, on the other hand, occasionally licked and teased her entire breast, even using his teeth and the scruff of his days-old beard to amp up his sensual onslaught.
Just as she thought she’d go crazy from the pleasurable overload they were inflicting on her, a shrill buzzing filled the air. She jolted at the unexpected noise.
Bram released her and groaned. “Sorry. I forgot I set the timer.” His expression apologetic, he abandoned her to go take care of things on the stove.
Ry’s mouth reluctantly left her breast and slid along the slope of her neck before brushing over
her lips. “Do you have any idea how delicious you are?”
“Even better than Kevin’s Penne Arrabiata?” she couldn’t help asking with a grin.
“A million times tastier.” He snagged her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a good nibble before letting her go and glancing down at her bared breasts with unabashed appreciation. “Look at you. Damn, you should be topless all the time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’d go over great at work.” Leaning past him, she attempted to grab her sweater, but Ry used his foot to kick the stool out of her reach. She frowned. “I need that.”
“Why?”
She shoved her arms over her chest. “I am not going to eat with my boobs hanging out like this, Ryan Hollister.”
A chuckle came from Bram. “Ooh, she called you by your full name. You’re in trouble now, bud.”
Ry didn’t look the least bit worried. “I’m only trying to save her from slopping on her sweater. You’d think she’d appreciate my ingenuity.”
“Puh-lease. We all know who’s the messier eater here.” She offered Ry a pointed stare.
“Can I help it if I enjoy savoring my meals?” His smile was slow and sexy, leaving her with little doubt that he was imagining her as his next main course.
Letting him in could mean losing him forever.
Ghosts of Boyfriends Past
© 2012 Vivi Andrews
Elizabeth “Biz” Marks has the magic touch when it comes to matters of the heart—except her own. In a slightly tipsy fit of loneliness, she once tried to harness a little love mojo to work in her favor. Instead the spell mutated into a nightmarish curse that kills off her boyfriends on her favorite holiday: Valentine’s Day.
With three permanently ex-boyfriends on her conscience and another hearts-and-flowers holiday approaching, the last thing she needs is a too-gorgeous-to-be-true reporter snooping around.