“What did Becky say?” Arnie’s hands were clenched into tight balls on the table as if he planned to punch something. “Tell me.” His voice was rougher now, almost angry.
The steely curtain around his emotions lifted for a brief moment and she gasped at the waves of cold menacing evil surrounding him. She stared down into the teacup, struggling to stay awake. “Oh God. You drugged me.” Meeting his gaze, her worst fears were realized.
Arnie’s eyes were wild. He bolted from his chair, knocking it over, then grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “What did she say? Does she remember who was at her house and…” His voice trailed off.
Emily could barely suck in a breath. She struggled against the effects of whatever Arnie had put in her tea, tried to figure out how to get out of there.
“Answer me.” Now he was shouting.
Her voice was locked in her chest, not that she’d tell him a damn thing. All she could do was try to wrestle herself free.
He was slightly built but she was no match for his strength. He pulled her up and held her so close she smelled his breath, like stale cigarettes. “Emily! What do you know?”
She wanted to tell him to screw himself, but she couldn’t even make her mouth work enough to say that.
“You’re a whore, just like Becky.” He shoved her onto the floor and she scrambled back into a corner, frantically searching the room for anything she could use as a weapon. But the sparsely appointed office offered nothing.
“I wanted her to leave that dumb redneck boyfriend, but she didn’t want to hurt him.” He rolled his eyes and took a menacing step toward her. “We were in love, but she left me no choice. Do you see?”
Black dots appeared in her field of vision. She tried to hang on to consciousness.
Help me, Ryan!
But she knew he was closed off to her telepathic messages. “Ryan!” she managed in a hoarse voice she barely recognized as her own. Then the darkness overtook her.
* * * * *
Ryan drove out of Tommy’s driveway toward the road but he had no idea where to go.
“Where the hell are you, Emily?” She wouldn’t have taken his truck if something wasn’t terribly wrong. What if someone had been waiting inside his house and kidnapped her as soon as she entered. Why hadn’t he gone in with her? Unless he’d inadvertently done something to upset her.
He replayed the day in his mind, but he couldn’t come up with any reason why she’d be pissed off. Leaning his head back, he concentrated on everything he knew about her. He put the car in Park then phoned the salon where she worked.
“Sorry, she’s off today,” the receptionist told him.
He tried her cell again but he went straight to voicemail again.
Damn it. He punched the steering wheel. If only he was psychic, he’d know what was going on.
“That’s it,” he said aloud. That psychic they’d met with might be able to contact her telepathically. He put the car in Drive, practically blind with panic, and sped toward Raleigh.
The occult bookstore was dark when he arrived.
Too damn bad.
His heart felt as if it skipped a beat when he spotted his truck parked under a tree, nearly hidden from view. His relief was short-lived when the questions started tumbling through his mind. Why had she disappeared without a word and why hadn’t she even called him? She had to know he’d be frantic.
He approached the truck, opened the driver side door and looked inside. Nothing seemed out of place. He started toward the building when a flash of chrome and metallic black caught his eye. A freestanding carport peeked out from behind some tall shrubs. His pulse did double time when he neared the structure and found a black SUV with several dents in front.
He shifted into high alert. Glad he’d brought a weapon, he headed to the door and tried to see through the windows but the curtains were drawn. He banged on the glass then tried the knob and found it locked. “Emily?” he called but was greeted with only silence.
Somewhere deep inside him, he heard—or felt—her reaching out to him. She was in trouble. He headed around the back of the building and found another entrance that looked as if it went to the office they’d been in earlier.
Without another thought, he slammed his shoulder into the door, once, twice, finally breaking through on his third try. Every muscle in his body tensed at the sight of Emily tied up in a chair in the corner. Her head slumped forward and her eyes were closed.
Please let her be okay.
He rushed over, knelt in front of her and touched her cheek. He nearly cried with joy when he felt the warm moisture of her breath fan over his wrist. “Emily?” She didn’t stir when he lightly slapped her face and his hope plummeted.
“Get up,” a male voice said from behind him.
He started to reach for the gun in his waistband until the cold metal of the other man’s weapon jabbed against the back of his neck.
“I’ll kill you both if you make a move for it.” Arnie’s voice was flat and Ryan had no doubt the man would carry through with the threat.
But he refused to just give up his power to the son of a bitch who’d tied up Emily and done God knows what to her. He clenched his jaw and started to raise his hands in the air. But instead of surrendering, he thrust his elbow back and it connected with the other man’s gut.
Arnie yelped and Ryan spun around in time to watch Arnie’s gun drop to the floor. Before Ryan could grab his own weapon, Arnie landed a punch to Ryan’s jaw. Then Arnie bent and charged him, knocking them both to the ground.
Arnie straddled him and tried to choke him. “Why couldn’t you leave it alone? I didn’t want to kill Becky but I couldn’t make her see reason.”
Fury supercharged Ryan’s strength. He knocked the other man off and reached for his gun. When Arnie came back at him, Ryan fired.
Arnie froze, then looked down at the tiny dark hole in the breast pocket of his white shirt. Blood soaked the fabric in seconds as Arnie slumped to the floor, his eyes wide with shock.
Ryan immediately shifted his focus to Emily. He got her untied then tried to rouse her. She moaned softly and he knew she’d make it. Holding her in his arms, he called 9-1-1 and cradled her until the emergency personnel arrived minutes later.
* * * * *
“I’m glad Arnie’s dead,” Ryan told Emily as he helped her into his truck outside the Emergency Department of Raleigh General Hospital. He’d insisted she let doctors check her out even though she’d awakened feeling fine.
“Me too. Now Becky can rest.” Pink and orange stripes painted the morning sky as the new day broke, filling Emily with hope, but she had no idea if Ryan would forgive her for believing that he’d killed Becky. She glanced across the seat at him and offered up a prayer that the kindness he’d showed her through the night would last.
He caught her staring. Silently, he reached for her hand then brought it to his lips and kissed it softly. “You okay?” He pulled out of the hospital parking lot into the empty street.
She nodded, suddenly too choked up with emotion to speak.
“You’ll have to direct me to your place.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to broach the subject of their relationship but he didn’t say anything. “I’m on the north side, off Creedmore Road.” She told him where to go, turn by turn until they arrived at her building.
She led him inside. Her stomach churned as she followed him through the small apartment since he insisted on checking it out for her safety. They ended up in the bedroom.
“This is nice.” He swept his gaze around the room. “Cozy.”
“Do you mind waiting while I take a shower? I’m still kind of nervous to be alone.”
He furrowed his brow then pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. “Who said anything about leaving you alone?”
She allowed herself a measure of relief.
“I could go for a shower too. Mind if I join you?” He captured her stare and his eyes turned smoky with d
esire.
Hot need suffused her insides as he rubbed his hands up and down her back. She took a step away and threaded her fingers through his. “Come on.” Pulling him behind her, she strode to the bathroom and turned on the faucet.
Ryan’s gaze singed her skin as she stripped off her clothes and dropped them to the floor. He followed suit then took her hand as they entered the shower.
She grabbed the soap but he took it from her.
“Let me.” His hard arousal pressed against her belly as he washed her shoulders and back, sliding his soap-slick hands over her skin.
She shut her eyes and gave over to the luxurious sensations. A sweet ache started in her core as he sluiced sudsy water over her hips, down her legs then back up to the juncture of her thighs. She moved her legs apart a little, just enough to allow him entry.
He slid a finger inside her and she started rocking against him, riding his hand. He kissed her mouth, tasting and exploring. She melted into a mass of joy.
He stroked and rubbed as if he lived in her head, knew exactly how, where and when she needed him. She teetered on the brink of ecstasy, held her breath until she fell into the depth of pleasure. Delicious pulses of bliss went on and on. Weak with euphoria, she’d have slid to the floor were it not for Ryan’s support.
The waves subsided, leaving her weak and delirious.
“I’m not done with you. Not by a longshot.” Ryan’s voice was a growl against her ear. He shut off the water then yanked the bath sheet off the rack and wrapped it around the two of them.
She’d never felt so totally taken care of. She could easily get used to the luxury.
Ryan helped Emily from the shower then lifted her into his arms.
She laughed, a musical sound he couldn’t get enough of. “What are you doing? I’m not a damsel in distress. At least I’m not anymore.”
He ignored her protest and brought her to the bed, set her down on the soft blue comforter. “You might still be weak from the drugs Arnie gave you.”
A cloud of tension passed quickly over her features at his mention of Arnie. “I’m not, I’m fine. If I’m weak, it’s from…you know, that incredible orgasm you gave me.”
He grinned. “I hope you can handle more because I plan to spend the whole day in bed with you.” He straddled her then lowered himself over her, making sure their bodies connected at all the right points.
“Mm.” She wriggled beneath him as he trailed his tongue along her clavicle, kissed his way to her shoulder, neck and ear.
Her flowery scent drove him wild with longing. Her lids shuttered over and her dark eyelashes fluttered. Need coiled even tighter inside him. He cupped her breast, licked the peak of the other, savoring the clean taste of her skin.
She writhed, arched toward him, urging him on. Later he’d take his time, make love to her long and slow. But holding back now was akin to torture for him and apparently for her too.
He plucked the hard point into his mouth and heard her hiss in a breath. He rolled his tongue around her nipple, sucked and nipped.
Emily lifted her hips, slid her moist sex back and forth over his length. She reached to the nightstand and grabbed a box of condoms.
Ryan took it from her, plucked out a single packet and sheathed himself. He parted her legs with his knee then slipped inside her heat. Inch by inch, he took his pleasure and gave the same to her.
He stroked as she danced her fingertips over his back. They moved in perfect rhythm. He fought for control until she exploded in convulsive gasps. She sank her nails into his flesh and he finally allowed himself to let go.
He thrust hard and fast until he detonated in delight, gulping for air. A sweet flood of bliss overtook him, swamped him in perfect gratification. He closed his eyes and was gone.
* * * * *
Ryan woke at the sound of Emily’s voice. He peeled open his eyes then shaded them from the sunlight. Checking the clock, he realized he’d been asleep a couple hours. He followed her voice into the living room but didn’t go near her when he saw her sitting cross-legged on the wingback chair.
“I miss you too, Mama.” She swiped a tear off her cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more in touch. But I plan to change that. Something happened recently that…that made me realize how important family is.” She nodded. “Christmas would be perfect. I’ll call you soon, I promise.”
Ryan backed through the doorway into the bedroom, not wanting her to shorten her conversation because of him.
“Is it okay if I bring someone with me? He’s special to me.”
Ryan swallowed back a golf ball-size lump in his throat.
“I love you, Mama.”
He climbed back into her bed and waited for her to come in.
Moments later, she joined him under the covers, sliding into the crook of his arm where she fit as if she was made for the spot. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He kissed the top of her head.
“I know I’m making a lot of assumptions here, but how would you feel about coming to New Orleans with me for Christmas? We can check out the French Quarter and—”
He touched a finger to her lips and pulled her closer. “Yes.”
She widened her eyes.
“I’d love to go. I have no family holding me here for the holidays so a trip would be great.”
He gave her a soft kiss. “I want to be where you are.”
Her expression relaxed and she snuggled against him. “I want that too, Ryan.”
“Now that that’s settled, I think we should concentrate on getting to know each other better.” He propped himself on one elbow, facing her, and stroked a finger over the curve of her shoulder. “Beginning right now.”
About the Author
As a child, Wynter Daniels told her parents she wanted to be an archeologist, an actress or a sculptor. Unfortunately she didn’t demonstrate the natural ability to sculpt or to bring an audience to tears with her Ophelia. Nor could she stand getting dirt under her fingernails. But she could always talk her way out of anything by spinning quite a colorful tale.
Wynter has authored more than three dozen romances, including contemporary, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance books for several publishers including Entangled Publishing and Carina Press. She is also one of the foursome known as The Jewel Box Authors who write the Jewel Box Anthology series.
She makes her home in sunny Florida with her family and a spoiled kitty named Chloe.
Find her on the web at www.WynterDaniels.com, at Facebook.com and Twitter.
Fallen (A Club Blood Erotic Short)
©2016 Nicole Garcia
PROLOGUE
Salem, Massachusetts 1692
I WAS STANDING I was standing in the middle of the town square. The loud screaming of the crowd pierced my eardrums; they were getting louder with each passing second. I refused to open my eyes, not even for a second; if I did I would run to her. I would do everything humanly possible to save her, but she made me promise to be still, silent, and not look at what they planned to do to her.
My mother, accused of being a witch, was sentenced to death by hanging. The court believed she was the cause of my father's death, and the death of her first husband. But, this isn't so. It honestly isn't true. She didn't kill anyone, nor is she a sorceress with evil intentions.
Okay, so she wasn't perfect. She was always out gallivanting around with strange men and having loud parties in our home, but that didn't make her a witch. It only made her a bad mother. There were times where I would hold a grudge for months over some asinine thing she had done, yet I always forgave her. She was the only mother I had, the only mother I would ever have. No matter what she did, I never thought for one second that she would be taken from us forever.
I pressed my hands over my ears to muffle the shouting. I was scared. I had never been more frightened than I was at this moment. I may be an adult, but what would I do without my mother? How could I take care of my little brothers? Would the town come after me next? All these que
stions raced around my dazed and confused mind. They made my head spin as I heard a wooden crate scrape against the wood. I removed my hands from my ears to let them rest by my side as the crowd started to quiet down; they turned my stomach as they waited breathlessly for the executioner to speak.
I kept my eyes closed, unable to bear witness to the inevitable horror to come. I listened to the sound of heeled shoes as they tapped up the wooden stairs, then over the planks of the platform where the sound abruptly stopped.
"Mercy!" A woman behind me yelled. I jumped, startled by the sudden break in silence.
"Another witch! String her up with the others! The man who stood in front of me bellowed.
I squeezed my eyes tighter as my chest clenched. My heart started beating harder and faster as the brave woman was pushed and pulled across the dirt path towards her emanate death. Her panic stricken screams could probably be heard for miles, yet no one stepped in to help the poor woman because they feared for their own lives.
I finally worked up enough courage to open my eyes so I could look at the only woman who had enough heart to voice her compassion for another human being. The full loose sleeves of her dark blue dress had been torn, most likely from the struggle she put up. Her long overskirt was covered in mud and tears were streaming down her face.
My stomach lurched; now I couldn't look away from the scene playing out in front of me. I turned my head slightly to the right where my mother stood with nothing more than a rickety wooden box under her feet and a thick rope around her neck. She wasn't crying, she didn't look upset or concerned. She looked...proud. A smirk adorned her face as she stood tall with her head held high and her hands tied in front of her.
If anyone didn't think she was a witch before, well, they would now. Her hair was pinned to the top of her head as a few fiery red tendrils fell against her high cheekbones. She's so beautiful, so brave, and so completely stubborn. She wouldn't give anyone there the satisfaction of pleading for her life. If they thought she was a witch, then so be it. She would give them the show they waited for.
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