by Livia Quinn
Then I heard her voice, "Jack." My brain cells came back online slowly, her voice making more sense.
"Jack. Someone's at the door."
"Wha—" I sounded drunk. I was. I was intoxicated by this woman who was still impaled on the hardest ride I'd ever had. The noise filtered through. The doorbell ringing—persistently ringing—as if someone was leaning on it. I groaned.
Tempe kissed me, just once and slid to the side. "Sounds, um…urgent."
"Hell." I looked at my watch. 3:15 a.m. "Whoever it is, I'm taking my gun."
Tempe giggled, then sobered. "What if it's an emergency?" I could see her tick off all the possibilities with her family and friends in a flash. "Jordie?"
I frowned as the bell continued. "Jordie has a key, I think, and why wouldn't she call? Stay here. I'll check it out," I winked at her, "and get rid of whoever it is." I threw on my jogging pants. "You don't have to get up."
She walked around the bed and grabbed my robe off the hook on the door. She answered me, hurriedly tying the belt around her waist. "If it's Jordie at this hour, it's important."
I could tell Jack was worried. His mood had gone from sexy and playful to all business in a flash. I wrapped the robe around me, pulled the tie tight and followed him down the hallway. He carefully picked up my dress and draped it over the couch in the living room, then unlocked the door and swung it wide.
"Nooo," he nearly growled under his breath and the hand with the gun in it ran through his hair. "Damn it."
Chapter 27
Tempe
"Tell me that wasn't an earthquake… in Louisiana!"
* * *
The proverbial blonde bombshell stereotype stood in the doorway. The first thing I noticed were the bright green eyes that looked me over, just before her eyes narrowed. Thick platinum hair fell over her shoulders and impressive cleavage, which was on display for anyone and everyone, the mounds of her breasts nearly spilling out of her lacy low cut blouse, the unbuttoned bodice an unnecessary and obvious contrivance. Her figure was the classic hourglass shape, cinched in tightly at the waist with a silver belt, and she appeared to have been melted and poured into a pair of sequined studded blue jeans. Her lush lips, painted a neon shade of coral, broke into a wide smile.
Jack seemed frozen in place from shock. The woman glanced over his shoulder at me, her eerie green gaze taking in his bare chest, my bathrobe, and the abandoned gown over the back of the couch. "Wow, did y'all feel that? Tell me that was not an earthquake… in Louisiana."
Turning her attention back to Jack, she threw her arms around his neck. "Jack, honey. I'm home."
I felt my eyes widen as my brows nearly met my scalp.
Jack struggled to extricate himself from the blonde.
"Jackie, you haven't introduced me to your… friend." She turned a very controlled show of teeth toward me. "I'm Georgeanne Lang, Jackie's wife—"
"Ex-wife," Jack said through clenched teeth. "Tempe, Georgeanne just dropped by, but she won't be staying—"
Her hands clenched around each other, locking him to her. ”Oh, now, Jack. Don't be mean." Her voice was like a sly alley cat, slow and sultry, the laser beam green eyes locked on mine. "He's just a bear sometimes, 'ya know? I didn't have anywhere else to go, and I knew he wouldn't turn me away. After all," she tilted entreating eyes up to Jack, "it's been over two years since I've seen my baby."
Did she mean Jordie, or Jack?
Jack tried to push her away but she didn't budge, her hands locked. "Georgeanne, what do you want? Really."
She acted confused by the question. "Why, I just said, didn't I? I missed you and Jordie, so I packed my bags and headed on down to your fine little town." She pronounced "little" with a lot of distain.
“It was nice to meet you Mrs. Lang—" I lied.
“Call me G, dear. Any friend of Jack's and all that…" her insincere show of teeth made me
"I'll leave you to your, um, visit, Jack," I said scooping up my dress.
"Tempe, no." His expression was total horror as he tried once again to shake her loose but it wasn't happening.
I shook my head. Sorry, Sweetheart. You'll have to handle this on your own.
Jack's head rolled back against the doorframe and he ran his large hand through his hair, mussing it further from what was obviously good-sex bed head. His good mood was gone. He was a man with a giant problem, and I couldn't help him with it.
* * *
Tempe
Sunday, 3:15am Zeus' darkest night!
* * *
Zeus' darkest night! As I let myself out of Jack's house through the back door I remembered I had no transportation. I could make out the increasingly apparent outline of Cache as it made its trajectory toward the earth moon. It was a pale lavender ghost that would soon obscure the smaller moon and filter out whatever it is that gives us Paramortals our power for at least twenty-four hours. As the coincidence got closer, they would slowly diminish like light from the sun during a total eclipse. Of course, with everything that had happened, I'd forgotten to fill Jack in on details.
How odd was it that Jack's "crazy" ex would show up on the eve of Chaos—as if speaking her name had "conjured" her, his biggest fear. Our personal relationship aside, it was a distraction Jack didn't need. My impression of the green eyed floozie was that she would not go quietly. But whatever the next day would bring, I couldn't make myself fight for a place in Jack's attention. Not tonight. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough.
I wadded up the layers of tulle and crinoline into my arms and started for home. . . on foot.
Wow! I totally wasn’t prepared for that, and I wrote it. When Jack’s ex showed up it blew my mind. (And Jack’s!)
Scroll down for an excerpt from the next book in the series, and grab it here Eve of Chaos. You met Conor in Cry Me a River. Now fall in love. . .
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Caed Mile Failte, A hundred thousand welcomes!
Livia
* * *
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* * *
Excerpt of Eve of Chaos
“That’s what I thought,” the gnarly-faced creature said. His eyes suddenly burned with hostility, the long door frame incisors and tongue growing larger as the muscles in his body bunched, signaling his attack. He sprang. Then a hot whoosh of flame flashed across Montana’s vision. She’d had no time to jump back. As soon as she opened her eyes she realized—it was over. A fatal flame had scorched the offending abuser down to his one remaining foot.
Montana and the woman were safe.
Scorch marks marred the floor where the being had stood seconds ago. Death from above! Pretty accurate aim. Everything had been annihilated in front of Montana except the woman on the floor and the troll’s foot, which was propped on her chest. The victim’s one good eye opened and stared at the charred paw inches in front of her. Then her eye drifted toward Montana and and rolled up in her head.
Montana sighed. “Did I do that?” she wondered aloud and looked down her snout at the stil
l oozing tendrils of gray smoke. A deep rumbling—like a hundred Vikings in the great hall enjoying a good joke—came from the direction of the ceiling. She followed the scorch mark up the wall to a blanket of stars against a night sky, and gasped.
The most beautiful creature she’d ever seen towered over her… and the house… with the moons, Luna and Cache', as his artistic backdrop. He leaned against what was left of the roof, dragon smugness—a special kind of arrogance singular to dragons—adorning his features. Well, he had a right to be smug. He’d taken out half the roof and the variant in one fiery exhale, without harming her or the woman on the floor.
“Oooh, you’re good,” she acknowledged, giving him a slight bow. She couldn’t find it in her heart to complain about the remaining butt-ugly appendage even though it was probably obstructing the woman’s breathing.
He was darker than the night, like a dragon shaped black hole except for his red rimmed snout, eyes and lips which shown like the reflector tape on the emergency vehicles she drove.
“Lassie, you dinnae ken the half o’ it. Tell me. What made ye think ye could take on that hackit Faerie by yerself in yer lovely wee fog drakon form?”
At least he had a sense of humor. Hackit meant really ugly. Montana thought about what he’d said. Fog. Hmm. “So that’s why I couldn’t produce the fire...” she said, more to herself. He took her measure intently, his eyes traveling over her lithe ten-foot dragon form. When she changed back to her Valkyrie sized naked warrior body, she thought he smiled.
She stood perfectly still, innately comfortable in her nakedness. A small stream of fire sizzled from his nostrils and the irises swirled in his glowing red-rimmed eyes. His head disappeared from view and Montana felt a pang of disappointment, but he returned with two tiny scraps of fabric. Well, they looked tiny in his massive jaws. He opened his mouth just enough to allow the material to float down and land at her feet. She recognized it—her lingerie. You never knew where they were going to end up when you shifted.
His eyes drifted down lazily, the horny forehead wrinkled as he said, “I know yer secret, Victoria.” Who would have thought a forty-foot dragon with a head the size of a house could wink or raise a non-existent brow? “Better cover yourself, Lassie. The coppers have arrived.”
Order Eve of Chaos
Glossary of Beings & Terms
Good and Bad POPs (Jack’s term for “People of Power”)
Paramortal – beings who are bound through their ancestors by blood or spell to The Pact and called to defend all manner of innocent beings
Coincidence or Para-moon – When the Paramortals’ moon, Cache and earth moon are full at the same time. The last time was 400 years ago. Exact arrival and strength is unpredictable.
Chaos – 24 hours when blood Paramortals lose their power or suffer ill effects and their enemies take advantage of the power-down to grab power and eliminate good guys
The Forge – a super pulse of leylines that runs through Destiny. Its center is the swamp behind Tempe’s house
Collecte – the ancient members of the original Pact and their descendants.
Tempestaerie – A being that can control water and air and affect earth and fire while manipulating wind and weather.
Djinn – a fire elemental with the ability to grant wishes
Finrir – a shifter, eight-foot tall wolfish creature with a grizzly head. (Think Wolffie from Star Wars)
Vouivre – a four elemental water dragon that appears as a naked blonde on the bank to catch ‘food’
Fae – the Bright Fae (good) and the Dark Fae (bad)
Nucklavee –an ugly, mean creature that can take any form. When it dies it smells like dead fish and rotten eggs
Goofus – a species of flying creatures that look like pterodactyls, come in many sizes
Shmoo – smallest goofus that spews poisonous fluid
Squonk – a larger goofus, which can also fly backwards
Fengbo –looks like a flying head with wings for ears, has a square mouth and fat sharp teeth. It feeds on the organs of its victim while it’s alive, then carries the remains under its head until it finds a replacement.
Walking dead – well, you know, they used to be people, and now they’re not.
Paramortal Language/Terms
* * *
Qi- core source of power within
Para – two, side by side; to shelter, protect, or defend
Vyal k’allanti The Paramortal quickening, the change, literally ‘find his destiny’
Aq’ligeameile (Aqua-le-me-elay) Paramortals, defenders of humans
Menori – Tempe’s life force or qi
Deremelei – living skin, the sign of a new Paramortal
Dovelo – from do’vel, clueless, literally in denial
Allanti - Destiny/ Fate
Vel lua – I love you (to a friend)
Jah’allantiduen - The Convergence – literally ‘as prophesied all will come together’
Jahlua – The Collecte - All allies
Aretuu – All Paramortal enemies, literally ‘he hates’, includes variants
Meile q’lije (parablood) – blood of the defenders, all blood Paramortals have meile q’lije at birth
Vazar Aquilei vel Aq’ligea meile - (Loosely paraphrased) Fae, get your asses over here and defend your Paramortal brothers
Meile - Blood, life source
Aqi’lei – Fae, literally ‘one who shines’
Jahdo v’allanti - sign of fate
SOAPs Sisters of the astral plane
Races - remein, Djinni, larein, ilein, qivan, belojah and velczhan
Aqiva’ni The race of changers, shifters
Larai’ni ‘less than dead’, Jarai’ni ‘more than dead’ - Vampires
A‘ni - same qi – same species
Ameile – one blood - human
* * *
A delij k’alant, cin valo ne kant deligda.
“One meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it.”
Livia moved from D.C. to Louisiana where the weather and culture of the region inspired her writing, including her storm faerie, Tempest and her contemporary romance series. She’s stored up fodder from her jobs as mail lady, salesperson, plant manager, business owner and professional singer to share with readers. Think of her as her characters’ biographer! On the bayou, she is protected from the alligators and bears by her husband and feisty Pomeranian, Dusty.
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As they say in my favorite escape, Scotland. . .
Caide Mile Failte’, A hundred thousand welcomes.
Livia
Contact me here:
Livia Quinn Writes
liviaquinn.com
[email protected]
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Did you love Cry Me a River? Then you should read Eve of Chaos by Livia Quinn!
"You vill meet a dahk dangerrous sttrrangah…" Aurora predicted at the Mardi Gras ball, and as if someone left their Swords of War videogame on "share" in a parallel universe, he walked in. Conor de Sept Flambe´, the Dark Knight they'd dubbed him, with his dark gleaming muscles, the distinctive leathery tattoos across his shoulders, armored boots and magnificent flashing swords.
"Where did he get those swords?" Montana asked, drooling. She'd been unable to force her eyes away from him all evening. Then he'd walked across the ballroom floor, parting the crowd like Moses through the Red Sea, and asked her to dance. Turns out, he's quite the music lover.
He said he wanted to show her some of his moves. Right! Her Dinnshencha warrior wasn't born yesterday… There's more to this Knight than meets the eye, and he's quite an eyeful. Recognizing her diminishing strength, he offers to prepare her for the Chaos, twenty-four hours when many Paramortals would lose their power.