by Jaye Shields
After setting the champagne down on a nearby table, Duncan swept Michelle off her feet once more and set her gently on the ground. Then he knelt before her.
“Michelle James,” Duncan took her hand gently within his own as he stared lovingly up into her eyes. “Time was a burden before I met you. But now the thought of eternity seems much too short because I want to spend one hundred eternities with you. I want to be a homebody with you and make your breakfast every day of your life. I want to journey into the darkest, deepest tombs in the world with you, keeping you safe from the creepy crawlies of your profession. I hope you will let me be your everything. Please give me the honor of being your husband.”
Tears of joy formed in Michelle’s eyes as she watched Duncan take out a ring and slip it onto her finger. A stone centerpiece of Mayan jade was encircled in exquisite, clear diamonds along the band.
“I hope you don’t mind — I picked up the Mayan jade from one of the tombs. I wanted you to have a ring as unique as you are, and now you can always have a piece of your family with you. The diamond band and setting was my mother’s. I — ”
But Michelle silenced Duncan by kneeling with him and meeting his lips with her own. They both lost time as they fell into each other’s arms until finally, she said, “Yes!” And they fell back into each other, deeper, and deeper into love, until finally, ecstasy.
About the Author
Jaye Shields holds a degree in Anthropology from San Francisco State University with an emphasis in archaeology. Her previous claims to fame include being a bass player for a grunge band called the Hymens, being mistaken for Britney Spears while in Tokyo, and commercial model. She insists the commercial still counts even though her lines were cut.
Born and raised in Seattle, Jaye got addicted to reading early on. Flight attendant by day, she spends much of her time in airports with a mischievous smile on her face, writing steamy love scenes and epic romances. Oh yes, and she’s in a committed love affair with her readers. www.JayeShields.com
More from This Author
(From Secrets of the Sky)
Twenty-three years later
Sparrow gritted her teeth and nestled her cheek against the leather chair of agony. The sensation of the sharp needle grinding against her skin never got easier. In fact, it seemed to get worse. The buzzing torture device left deep indentations in her flesh.
“Why do you do this to me?” Her voice was a whimper, and she cringed at her own cowardice. A pained cry escaped her lips. “I thought you loved me.”
The voice that replied back was a handsome tone dripping with a cocky quality. “You know you’ll thank me when it’s over.”
Sparrow looked back over her bloodied shoulder and assessed the villain. “Ugh, I hate it when you’re right.”
Turning her gaze forward once more, she tried to ignore the constant pinching of the tattoo being inked upon her skin. “You’re a sadist, you know? Who could do this to people for a living?” Her voice was teasing, but carried a desperate tone that implied she couldn’t take her mind off the pain.
“If I’m a sadist, then you’re a masochist, because you’ve got a back full of tattoos, darling. Beautiful ones, I might add. My favorite is still the swan.” The Mohawked tattoo artist traced a nimble finger along the outline of the bird resting majestically on her lower back. Slowly, he followed the line along the elegant neck of the swan up her spine.
“Paws off the goods, Murphy.” She glared into the mirror in front of her so that her long-time pal could get the message.
“You look so cute when you make that face.” Dark eyes stared at Sparrow’s reflection in the mirror.
Most guys, like Murphy, seemed to find it difficult to resist the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty she inherited from her mother.
“So why a peregrine falcon?”
“You’ve never questioned my taste before.” She avoided the question like an expert.
“That’s because all you have are majestic, feminine birds like sparrows, swans, warblers, and doves. Speaking of, you never did tell me where you got that sparrow done. That’s the only one I didn’t do.”
“I’ve had it for a while.”
“Yeah, I know.” But before Murphy could further question her, she let out a cry that echoed throughout the shop.
“Damn it, focus! I swear this is worse than ever.” Sparrow meant it but mostly went all drama-queen to change the subject. After all, how could she explain that the tattoo was a mystical enchantment gifted to her by her Wiccan aunts when she was born?
“Peregrine falcons are incredible predators that should be worshipped for their grace and ability. They’re like me. Small, but fierce.”
The tatted Murphy smiled, and swept his tongue over his lip piercing provocatively. “I know you are.”
“Oh, God, save it.” She nuzzled her face against the leather recliner once more. Note to self: I should probably stop going to an ex-flame for tattoos.
“Ouch!” She wrinkled her nose at the painful tickle.
“You’re such a pansy. You didn’t make this much noise when we did your owl, and that one took quite some time.” Looking to a nearby tat tech, Murphy called out. “Hey, toss me a doughnut. We got a screamer.”
“You know I don’t buy that ‘sugar dulls the pain’ crap. Besides, don’t you remember? Last time, I nearly passed out walking through the door after you were done.”
“Of course I remember. That’s how you ended up in my bed. Gotta love those post-tat endorphins.” The look Murphy sent to Sparrow via the mirror was pure sex.
She let herself appreciate the sight of him. Murphy was an off-beat kind of sexy but was definitely still eye candy. But not her soul mate. “Anyways … ”
“All right, all right. Can’t a guy re-live his wonder days?”
She couldn’t help but smile at the man’s persistence. After seeing Tera with Sabin, she wanted the same thing. Her friend had never been with a man, and when she’d found Sabin, there’d been an instant connection. Not exactly love at first sight since Tera immediately tried to kick his ass, but definitely some sort of soul connection.
A Nelly Furtado ring-tone exploded from Sparrow’s phone. She reached into the pocket of her bright blue coat hanging on a nearby chair.
“Are you kidding me? You’re obsessed.” Murphy sent her a disapproving glance and shook his head at the familiar lyrics about flying birds.
“Birds are my shtick,” she exclaimed matter-of-factly. “I like the Sex Pistols, too, but I don’t need to put them on repeat.” Grinning, Sparrow knew she irked the punkster, who constantly either wore shredded t-shirts of the Clash or the Pistols.
A picture of Tera’s auburn hair and emerald eyes lit up her phone screen. But when Sparrow put the cell to her ear, all she heard was static and various grunts and crashing sounds. She shifted the phone against her ear impatiently as the needle continued to grind ink into her back. Butt-dialed again?
“Tera?” She whispered aggressively into the phone while trying to maintain public cell phone etiquette. “Tera!”
Listening close, she could only make out the sound of general ruckus and yelling. “Hello? Are you listening to Rage Against the Machine again? Turn down that damn music!” But as Sparrow concentrated on the sound, she recognized the noise of combat boots and crunching leaves. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard her best friend’s voice on the other line.
“Sparrow! That’s not music, it’s the real deal. Vampires. Demons. Dragons. Yep, that’s brimstone you’re hearing.”
Her stomach twisted. “Are you punking me right now?” But even as Sparrow questioned Tera, she knew by the panting on the other end of the line that it was serious.
She fumbled for the volume button on her Blackberry to ensure Murphy couldn’t hear the frantic voice on the other end of the line. Tera continued yelling into the phone, confirming her worst nightmare. Tera had gone to say goodbye to Sabin and all hell broke loose. Her best friend and the sleeping city of San Fra
ncisco were in great danger, and damn it, her tattoo wasn’t even done.
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