Archive for the ‘Excerpts’ Category

Love’s Immortal Panthoen 3: Bellona’s War Ribbon

By: Diana DeRicci | Other books by Diana DeRicci
Published By: Tease Publishing LLC
ISBN # 978-1-60767-102-2

Word Count: 24,900 Heat Index

Categories: Paranormal/Horror Time-travel Erotica

Available in: Adobe Acrobat

Price: $1.99

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A persistent obsession with a goddess could jeopardize one man’s sanity, or could give him eternal love.

An Ancient Civilizations Professor has hungered for one woman for over twenty years. The only problem–she
hasn’t existed in millenia. When he is swept from modern times to the birth of the Roman Empire, he thinks his
sanity has finally snapped.

All he wants is to have one chance to love her.

If he can win the heart of the Goddess of War, he might find more than any obsession could ever promise.

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Excerpt:

Curran’s head ached and his mouth was dry. His room smelled dry and stuffy. He needed to air out his condo again. Rolling over, he tossed an arm upward to capture his free range pillow. Thunder filled the morning. Great. It was Saturday, maybe he’d just stay in bed.

Only…that wasn’t his pillow under his hand. Heavy wool scratched his back and hips as he shifted to find a comfortable position. When had his mattress ever felt so flat? Flexing his fingers, he stroked something hard…hard and stone. Stone?

Blinking, he jerked up on stiff arms and froze.

Shit! We’re not in Kansas anymore. Focusing, he examined his space. Stone walls soared all around him. Flat masonry with dedicated religious carvings, and a single slit window well overhead. He was in some kind of sleeping quarters. Listening, that wasn’t thunder either, but the sound of marching. Thousands marching.

Swallowing with uncertainty, he sat on the edge of his bed, a single layer ticked cot. He was naked. He shook himself. His mind was only playing with him again. Though, like Bellona speaking the night before, this was far more real, well beyond anything he’d dreamed up over the years. “Easy,” he whispered cautiously.

Only… Fuck!

He wasn’t speaking in English anymore!

Lifting his hands, he scrubbed his face. Callouses surprised him. Shudders rocked his shoulders. Faint sounds reached him through the plank wood door. Apparently the only way in or out of his…space? Cell? God if he knew. He knew in a few minutes it would disappear, or he’d wake up, in his own room. He had to. None of this was real. It never had been. Now was no different.

He believed that for about another fifteen seconds.

Standing he stretched and felt his heart pound again. Now this was too much! That was not his cock! Hell, this isn’t my body! Long and lean at thirty-three, the frame of his body now was anything but the tell-tale make-up of a bland college professor. Holding out his hands and arms, ropes of muscle climbed his arms to broad shoulders. A thick chest and lean waist was held up by muscular thighs, and dark, fine hair coated his skin, from his pecs to his navel.

Trembling, he sank to the edge of the bed where he’d awakened.

Dark hair? But I’m a blonde! Curran whimpered helplessly inside. Closing his eyes, he breathed at a measured pace for several minutes, surprised and grateful when his lungs and chest eased and the fear clenching his heart died away.

Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a wooden table with a wash basin and pottery pitcher. Striding over, he poured clear water into the bowl then splashed his face. A few drops hit his chest and he flicked them off, shaking his hands after dousing himself. Bracing his hands on the wooden edge, he counted. Yet when he opened his eyes, the room was exactly as he’d seen when he’d first awakened. Definitely not home.

“You are so screwed,” he muttered. In Latin. His brain wanted to curl up in a corner and quiver. He clearly remembered dragging his sorry ass to bed last night after his meltdown. Clean sheets and a queen bed. What was he missing? Sweeping the interior space there were no answers, but one definite. This was not his room.

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Alpha Awakening
By: Diana DeRicci | Other books by Diana DeRicci
Published By: Purple Sword Publications, LLC
ISBN # 978-1-936165-34-6

Word Count: 37,993
Heat Index : 4 flames

Categories: Vampires/Werewolves Paranormal/Horror Erotica

Available in: Adobe Acrobat, HTML, Mobipocket, Palm DOC/iSolo, Microsoft Reader, Rocket, Epub

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All Romance Ebooks

An afternoon spent avoiding his sister places Rush Donovan on a collision course with Fate. Interrupting a possible violent disturbance brings him face to face with the one woman he never wanted to meet.

His mate.

… a beautiful love story. … endearing and well done.

Tina / Two Lips ; 5 Kisses

Blurb:

Rush walked into his house, hearing the television from the living room.

“Hi!” his sister shouted.

“Hey,” he called back. He went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, but after several seconds, closed it, not finding what he wanted. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted, either.

No, that wasn’t true. Rush knew exactly what he wanted. Kay had officially set his world on fire, and he doubted she even knew it. He blew out a frustrated breath. His entire body had been a living ache since he let her drive away.

“What’s that for?” Sheridan asked, slipping up behind him to sit on a bar stool, an eyebrow arched in question. “Have a hard day of nothing?”

Cool tile from the kitchen outward to the rest of the house kept that much from becoming a blistering inferno, but from the inside out, Rush couldn’t tell if it was him burning hotter than a volcano or the summer sunshine heating the house through the windows.

He crossed his arms and leaned back on the hip high counter, not exactly ready to share his find with his sister yet. He was even less able to explain Kay to Sheridan. He couldn’t explain something he didn’t understand himself and do a good job of it, so staying quiet for a few minutes seemed to be the best idea he’d had all week. “Don’t you have a boyfriend somewhere? Or two?”

“Ha. Ha. He’s in Chicago hosting a client.”

Rush knew Brant was in marketing. It was more than he needed to ever know about Sheridan’s love life. The only thing he ever wanted to know was if her boytoys were pack and from whose territory, so when he’s called out for some indiscretion, he knew how to handle it. Sheridan wasn’t a player with young hearts, but an unsettled female could stir up trouble like a hornets’ nest in a high wind.

“What happened to you?” She frowned, meeting his glare while resting her chin on a raised fist. “What’s got your tail in a twist?”

He guffawed. “You would say that,” he accused, foregoing a real answer.

Sheridan shrugged, grinning madly. “Younger sister privileges. Besides, someone has to harass the pack alpha every now and then.”

He smirked. Rush knew his sister was good at it too, and not just because she was his second. “Nothing. There was a ruckus at the Hut. Some guy trying to intimidate his ex.”

“Jerk,” she muttered with a glowering frown.

He felt the same way. “He was.”

Kay on the other hand… He crossed his ankles trying to restrain the pounding throb beneath his zipper. It had been a constant battle since the first sound of her velvet voice that afternoon. It wasn’t a reaction he was used to. It was one reason he’d sat and talked for so long. He’d had a noticeable problem within two seconds after following her mouth on the edge of her cup. Supple, dusky lips that looked soft and delicious, slick with the whipped cream from the top of her coffee. He’d imagined every second of leaning over and licking her clean himself from that moment on. And he hadn’t been limited in his imagination to her lips.

The thought of tasting her lips, the curve of her jaw, the delicate skin beneath her ear and even burying himself in the thick mass of her hair had kept his blood heated and racing through him all afternoon. Smooth skin had teased him, visible beneath the filmy blouse she’d worn. Lithe and delicate, he’d wanted to lick every visible inch, and then find out what wasn’t. More than once, he’d had to forcefully bring himself back to what they were discussing because as much as he’d fought it, he couldn’t ignore what she did to him. Now, after almost an hour and distance, the burn had mellowed, but it was there, like a hidden spark from a wildfire, waiting for the chance to burst into a rampaging blaze all over again.

At one time, he’d waited, prayed and hoped he’d find his mate, his match, the one woman who would stand by his side as a leader to his pack and a companion for him, but after watching his mother wither away following his father to the grave, falling in love had ceased to be that much of a necessity.

Rush had thrown himself into the pack, into raising Sheridan, and his work. At not quite fifteen, it was that or go into foster care for a year and be separated from Sheridan permanently. He refused to let that happen. He had no choice but to pick up the pieces, and with the help of the pack, tie their broken home back together. So far, he thought he’d done a decent job. He’d earned his detective badge the year before, after being on the street force since he was twenty-one. Sheridan was in college learning all that CGI art stuff that he had no hope of understanding. He couldn’t lie, least of all to himself. He wanted Kaisha, but wanting sex and wanting more were different animals to him. One he refused to bend to, the other, his only choice, was to ignore because sex with Kay…

He drew a steadying breath, remembering not to groan with his sister so close. The sex would be incredible. It would be what he’d always craved.

It would be the end of everything he’d worked so hard for.

Well, this was fun for a first try on my part. I hope you enjoyed reading a little bit about Deena and Derek. As promised, I’m picking the winner for the free PDF download of TOUCH.

And that person is:

Cheryl McInnis with her suggestion of Barry White! I liked several of the ones mentioned, but this one really fit the atmosphere. Email me at DianaDeRicci AT gmail.com with an address to send you your prize!

Check back next weekend because we’ll be doing this again. Thanks again to everyone who played and stopped by! Have a wonderful week.

Welcome to my blog! This is an ongoing weekly post by several authors and I hope if you’re visiting them, you’re enjoying the HOT excerpts.

Today is an excerpt from TOUCH, a contemporary erotic romance.

ISBN: 978-1-60737-482-4
Author: Diana DeRicci
Cover Artist: Marci Gass
Price: $4.99

Deena is turning twenty-nine and her friend has given her the best gift, a free pass to Touch, a decadent luxury playground that caters to the rich and famous. Working endlessly to get her business off the ground, this break to play is exactly what she needed. The treatments aren’t half bad either.

Derek, the owner and controlling mastermind behind Touch, has ulterior motives though for getting Deena to Touch. Several months before, he’d discovered the knock-out blonde at a mutual friend’s wedding. Knowing she was dating, he tried to put her out of his mind, yet when her boyfriend leaves in a butcher’s rendition of chopped hearts, Derek lays out the ammunition to win her for himself.

All he needs is his secret weapon: Touch.

Buy here!

Fictionwise!

And here is your excerpt: (ADULT WARNING: THIS EXCERPT IS INTENDED FOR READERS 18 AND OLDER).

With firm hands, he massaged and rolled down her thighs, long and supple legs, all the way down to her feet. Then, one at a time, with the scented cream, he massaged her feet, easing his long fingers around them like a clay sculptor creating a masterpiece.

“You’re on your feet a lot?” he asked casually, molding his thumbs with a little more pressure into her arch, soothing the tender spots. He knew what she did. Sylvia hadn’t been able to withhold every detail under his questioning. Low groans were tearing his insides apart as he worked over each foot, counting cute, light pink polished toes.

“All day long usually,” she replied, sounding far away.

She was a hard worker. Another point proven. “This will help,” he explained.

When he was satisfied, he returned to her side, adding a fresh dollop of oil to his fingers to massage her thighs again. Her breath hitched but only briefly, her length virtually melting into the table, as he created more magic. He teased at her supple body, caressing tempting expanses of silken thigh. Starting at the back of her knee, he lightly kneaded, ending at the edge of the towel. Repeatedly working his attentions higher, feeling her body’s reaction, and catching his breath with every twitch of her growing arousal. She quivered beneath his fingers, but relaxed, almost in a trance of pleasure, both physical and erotic. Her fingers and toes arched and clenched as he moved over her body, joining in tandem with her slowly deepening moans.

At the moment, he didn’t care if she realized the sparking sensations were because of the attraction he couldn’t deny or because of her state of mind. At some point, this appointment had gone from proving if the undeniable physical pull created by this woman was real to needing so much more.

He drew a slow breath, heavy-lidded eyes following his hands, seeing nothing except her gorgeous body lying in front of him. Derek knew he was in over his head and about to break every rule in the book, but about thirty seconds ago, he’d ceased to care.

“Deena?”

“Hmm?” Languorous and drowsy, she barely answered him.

“Your choice of relaxation methods was one I’m not familiar with.” Drifting his hand between her relaxed thighs, closer to the pulsating heat of her mound still hidden beneath the safety of the towel, he almost died on the spot. Knowing what he should have expected, his blood raged with a renewed shock at the silken expanse of baby-soft smooth skin all along her thigh the higher he went. Was she bare? His mouth salivated, and he swallowed. Hard. Thank God he’d had the foresight to not put cameras in every massage room. “But I don’t want you to leave dissatisfied with our services.”

“Methods?” she mumbled, obviously trying to make the connection with a brain that was mush.

“Is this what you meant?” he asked, trying to even his voice out as he pressed delicately to the heat of her smooth flesh with an oiled palm. He slid the towel to her side, exposing her completely. The divine beauty of her body stole the last sane thought he had.

“Oh!” Shock made her voice stronger, but she was boneless on the table. He waited. Boneless was one thing. Feeling helpless was another. The oiled heat of her body was reaching up to him, wrapping around him like a fine scarf in winter. Over his nose and mouth, making him dizzy with need.

“Let me please you,” he managed over a thick tongue. A shudder rolled down her body.

“This isn’t a common offer, is it?” Her words were confused, trying to understand.

“No, Deena. This is for you, because you asked for the method.” Only a partial lie, a play on words that she herself had written. He was dying to feel her orgasm after having his hands all over her body for the last hour.

His eyes had almost fallen out of his head when he’d seen that one written word: orgasms. At first he believed he’d imagined it because he’d thought of little else when it came to Deena. It was a perfect opportunity, albeit a stolen one. He’d take it and run like a thief.

After a minute’s hesitation, she relaxed and actually spread her thighs for him, lifting her hips to press into his palm.

He didn’t ask twice, slowly working the oiled heat of his palm over her slit, feeling the way her body trembled and arched against his motions. He wished he could take her the way he’d craved since that fateful day all those months ago, but her ex had done a real number on her.

So much so that Sylvia had become extremely worried over her. Unable to wait for time to cure her heart, he’d made a deal with Sylvia to get Deena to the spa. He was going to do much more than heal her heart, given the chance. He was going to awaken her body.

He slid his palm over her pussy, and she moaned, the sound low and aching. He wanted her to turn over, to find her with his mouth, and devour her in all the ways he knew he could, but he wasn’t ready for her to see him yet. He didn’t want any connection made to him as one of the guests at Laura’s wedding, because that would too easily lead back to Rafael then Sylvia and the whole set up to get her to Touch. It was too possible for her to realize who he was, since she was at his spa, and he didn’t want to hurt her. He would tell her, but not now. It was too soon. He didn’t want his reputation and wealth to make the first impression. For now, he only wanted her to know him as André when she did finally see his face, to protect her if this was the only time he should have with her.

By the heat beneath his hands, he sincerely doubted he was imagining this. She’d find out about Derek Richards in due time. He wasn’t thrilled with the lie, but he wouldn’t risk hurting her if he was wrong about this attraction, if she didn’t feel the same, because he knew he wanted her. He felt on fire from just the hour they’d spent together already.

She wiggled and arched her sweet little ass upward, pressing herself against his hand, tighter, in need. Answering, he slipped a finger into her sheath, then two, and she shivered. He swallowed the immediate groan as she engulfed him in heat. She was hot sin wrapped around him. Sliding in and out of her slick center, he felt her walls swell, felt them dampen with her excitement and hunger. Every little gasped moan and twitch deepened his reactions, creating aches on top of aches, but he didn’t stop. He wanted more.

With her lying naked and welcoming and unable to indulge in his wildest fantasies under the circumstances, he made some compromises. He glided his other hand over the smooth curve of her ass, kneading the firm flesh under his fingertips in the same way he had meandered over her body. He heard her abrupt groan as little quakes rocked her body. He pressed her harder into the hand fucking her from underneath the luscious curve of her silken thigh. She moaned, tensing around him as he increased his attentions. He maneuvered beneath her weight to play with her clit. She gasped, beginning to rock naturally against him, sliding up and down the table, finding his fingers and riding them like a wild thing.

“That’s it,” he encouraged her, sliding deeper, a little harder with each thrust as he moved her in perfect harmony between his two hands. She rose above the table on her elbows and knees, accepting even more of his caresses. The scent of her arousal was growing, and he couldn’t help but draw it into his lungs, climbing the thrill with her.

Rushed little moans filled the room, and he knew she was reaching the pinnacle. His own body was strung tighter than a cello string, but he couldn’t stop. He’d take care of himself in his office, far away from the temptation in front of him.

Sliding his free hand beneath her body, he found her clit and rubbed it mercilessly, plunging into her pussy with stiff fingers he wished were his cock. The inner walls of her sheath tightened in needy waves. He slid his knuckles against ripened skin, and she rocked into him in answer, working her hips in delicious little pumps that fucked him back. He couldn’t look away. Each motion was an act of grace; her entire body smooth and taut, working with him to reach the orgasm he felt cresting around his hand. He trembled with the depth of his own desire. Rapid, lusting pants were hard to hide as he felt her tighten.

With a stifled shriek, she stiffened, and a bath of heated silk coated his fingers to drip across his hand. His tongue itched to drink that ambrosia. Ignoring the sweat on his brow and the raging hard-on in his slacks, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the rapture of her orgasm. He closed his eyes, dragging in deep lungfuls of air into his body, absorbing every detail from the smooth curve of her shoulder to the telling ripples of aftershocks that coursed down her frame.

Knowing he had no choice, he relinquished her body. Replacing the modesty towel over her hips, he immediately missed the view. He was dying to rip it away again, then resigned, grabbed a fresh towel to wipe his hands on. “Rest for as long as you need, Deena. No one will disturb you until you are ready to leave.” He’d make sure of that. He lowered to purr into her ear. “I hope to see you again, Deena.” By the steady sound of her breathing, he knew she was almost asleep.

Without another word, he slipped from her private room, heading to his office on the third floor, thankful he’d had these few minutes to confirm the lightning bolt he’d been hit with all those months ago.

He’d never been more attracted to a woman in his life.

~~~

Now, what song would you hear playing in the background? The best choice will win a PDF copy of TOUCH. Leave your choices in the comments. I’ll pick by 8pEST Sunday, so check back to see if you won!

On sale!

ISBN: 978-1-60737-482-4
Author: Diana DeRicci
Cover Artist: Marci Gass
Price: $4.99

Deena is turning twenty-nine and her friend has given her the best gift, a free pass to Touch, a decadent luxury playground that caters to the rich and famous. Working endlessly to get her business off the ground, this break to play is exactly what she needed. The treatments aren’t half bad either.

Derek, the owner and controlling mastermind behind Touch, has ulterior motives though for getting Deena to Touch. Several months before, he’d discovered the knock-out blonde at a mutual friend’s wedding. Knowing she was dating, he tried to put her out of his mind, yet when her boyfriend leaves in a butcher’s rendition of chopped hearts, Derek lays out the ammunition to win her for himself.

All he needs is his secret weapon: Touch.

Buy here!

Fictionwise!

Excerpt:

Sylvia held the large envelope in her fingers like a presenter at an awards show, enticing, teasing, and grinning because she knew the secretive act was killing Deena.

Deena frowned but couldn’t find the strength to put much effort into it. She was feeling pretty relaxed, a slight buzz and a sugar high roaming together like the best of friends through her system. “Syl, quit.”

“But it’s your birthday,” Sylvia sang in a high-low pitch, waving the light yellow envelope like a flag over her shoulder, out of reach but oh-so-apparently for Deena. A red velvet cake sat on the plain coffee table with two nice-sized slices cut out. Remnant crumbs on the plates were sitting forgotten now that the wine had been opened. It was a bought cake, which had irked Deena when Sylvia said she wasn’t allowed to bake her own. At least Sylvia hadn’t bought the red velvet cake from one of her competitors.

Playful jazz hummed from the stereo in the corner behind the sofa as the two women gabbed. Sylvia had ribbed Deena a little about working too hard, which was part of the reason Sylvia was at Deena’s. There hadn’t been many chances for girl time lately.

Deena’s wedding cake bakery was in high demand now that she’d hired Nicole Sparks, a specialty baker with an extraordinary talent out of New York’s best pastry school. By adding her delicious range of flavor to Deena’s design and decorating, the pair had become a “hot” commodity for those who could spend the kind of money on one of their cakes. Wedding cakes on that grandiose scale weren’t for the faint of heart. It was a mark of success that Deena had succeeded to this level of demand before she was thirty. And a blessing that all that art training hadn’t gone to waste.

In fact, today was her birthday and she was turning twenty-nine. The teasing light in Sylvia’s sparkling eyes was hard to miss while she held the envelope that was making Deena salivate with anticipation.

No one knew her better than Sylvia. No one bought her birthday cards anymore either.

“I love you, darlin’, but if you don’t hand it over, I’m going to do something dreadfully inappropriate,” Deena drawled in her “dare you” tone of voice the two women had shared since high school.

“Oh? Like what?”

“Hold you down and force-feed you a pound of fondant.”

Sylvia shuddered with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Can I get a guy to help with the spreading?”

Deena’s snicker turned into a laugh. “Evil woman.”

“Love you too.” Sylvia brought the card forward. “Here you go.” She whipped it out of Deena’s grasping reach at the last second. “You have to abide by the card. No cop outs.”

“Huh?” What was that supposed to mean?

“You’ll see.”

“What do you mean I’ll see?”

“We’ll celebrate not only your birthday but the fact that Brian the jerk has left the building.”

The joy dried out of Deena’s expression. “Brian is gone, and he is no longer worth my energy to remember.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

Deena snatched the card out of Sylvia’s hand at the same time she heard her friend’s mumbled “Bastard prick-in-the-mud.” She finally held the card in her hands and couldn’t care less what Sylvia thought or said about her ex-boyfriend. She and Brian had been together for not quite two years when he left in a fit of testosterone-fueled indignation just as her business began to really get off the ground. He hadn’t minded that she was career oriented; in fact, he’d always said it was one of the first things he’d found attractive about her. Apparently he had his limits though, namely when she was working all week then supporting her business at the actual functions to attract clients and interest on the weekends.

He’d accused her of neglect and of intentionally putting everything before their relationship, which hadn’t been true in the least. The final straw had been her Aunt Laura’s wedding. And that cake order had been family. It shouldn’t have mattered at all to their relationship.

The argument they’d had that night after the reception had been awful. She’d never seen it coming, which made the fight that much worse. Accusations had sliced her like ice shards in a violent wind. He’d been hateful, spiteful, and cruel. The things he’d said had shredded her, belittled her. For ignoring him. For taking too much time away from him. For not being there when he wanted or needed sex.

Looking back, Deena realized Brian had been the type who needed to be the center of the universe. The more her business prospered, the more threatened he’d felt. Deena had never been that dependent on any man other than her father.

Buy here!
Excerpt:

Setting the clip to the side, he did as he’d said, starting with her temples and working in slow, sweeping circles down her neck to her body. She shivered and trembled, and he knew his heart thudded in answer, his eyes widening then drifting shut for just a moment of heavenly bliss at the feel of her beneath his hands. His reactions were telling, like having a bomb explode underneath each fingertip. Opening his eyes, he brought himself back to the dim room. Thankfully she was lying on the cushioned head brace, unable to see the predominantly physical one he couldn’t hide.

The contact of her hair in his hands made his skin sensitive. Silken and sinuous, under the dim lights the long strands, a rich caramel color with sun-streaked highlights, natural by the look of it, ran like water beneath his palms. He could still picture the beauty she had been at the wedding, standing to take photos with the cake she’d personally made for her aunt’s special day. A lovely, fitted, yellow dress had hugged her waist and moved like sunshine all around her. There hadn’t been a woman since to hold a candle to her.

Soon, he felt the flow of the motions energize his hands, and with an oil-slicked palm, he caressed her shoulders and back. He fought to calm his racing heart, his reaction to stroking the smooth expanse of flesh. Positive she was unaware to just how deeply she affected him, he allowed a brief moment to drown in the sensation. Slow breaths told him she was under his spell, absorbed in the feel and pressure as he kneaded muscle and skin into a new level of physical presence. It was the best and the worst kind of torture—to touch her, to finally be with her, but unsure if she felt the connective sparks. He swore he saw them racing from his fingertips up his arms to wind around the nerves beneath his skull.

Standing over her, his hands on the trim, sleek back before him, he envisioned bending over and licking a trail down her spine, stopping at the indent of her ass, a firm, well-shaped beauty he wanted to dig his teeth into. He knew from her client sheet she was five-seven, and if she was an ounce over one-thirty, he couldn’t see it. His hands continued to move in a hypnotic manner over her body. Sweet groans and barely audible gasps of release rose up to his ears as he worked his fingers into her spine.

“That is heavenly,” she slurred.

“Thank you.”

Replenishing his liquid ammunition, he moved beyond the bottom edge of the white towel, flipping it back on itself by an inch or two exposing the back of her toned thighs. She didn’t have to know that it was a liberty he was taking. She would love the outcome.

With firm hands, he massaged and rolled down her thighs, long and supple legs, all the way down to her feet. Then, one at a time, with the scented cream, he massaged her feet, easing his long fingers around them like a clay sculptor creating a masterpiece.

“You’re on your feet a lot?” he asked casually, molding his thumbs with a little more pressure into her arch, soothing the tender spots. He knew what she did. Sylvia hadn’t been able to withhold every detail under his questioning. Low groans were tearing his insides apart as he worked over each foot, counting cute, light pink polished toes.

“All day long usually,” she replied, sounding far away.

She was a hard worker. Another point proven. “This will help,” he explained.

When he was satisfied, he returned to her side, adding a fresh dollop of oil to his fingers to massage her thighs again. Her breath hitched but only briefly, her length virtually melting into the table, as he created more magic. He teased at her supple body, caressing tempting expanses of silken thigh. Starting at the back of her knee, he lightly kneaded, ending at the edge of the towel. Repeatedly working his attentions higher, feeling her body’s reaction, and catching his breath with every twitch of her growing arousal. She quivered beneath his fingers, but relaxed, almost in a trance of pleasure, both physical and erotic. Her fingers and toes arched and clenched as he moved over her body, joining in tandem with her slowly deepening moans.

At the moment, he didn’t care if she realized the sparking sensations were because of the attraction he couldn’t deny or because of her state of mind. At some point, this appointment had gone from proving if the undeniable physical pull created by this woman was real to needing so much more.

He drew a slow breath, heavy-lidded eyes following his hands, seeing nothing except her gorgeous body lying in front of him. Derek knew he was in over his head and about to break every rule in the book, but about thirty seconds ago, he’d ceased to care.

Excerpt: (Adult)

“Deena?”

“Hmm?” Languorous and drowsy, she barely answered him.

“Your choice of relaxation methods was one I’m not familiar with.” Drifting his hand between her relaxed thighs, closer to the pulsating heat of her mound still hidden beneath the safety of the towel, he almost died on the spot. Knowing what he should have expected, his blood raged with a renewed shock at the silken expanse of baby-soft smooth skin all along her thigh the higher he went. Was she bare? His mouth salivated, and he swallowed. Hard. Thank God he’d had the foresight to not put cameras in every massage room. “But I don’t want you to leave dissatisfied with our services.”

“Methods?” she mumbled, obviously trying to make the connection with a brain that was mush.

“Is this what you meant?” he asked, trying to even his voice out as he pressed delicately to the heat of her smooth flesh with an oiled palm. He slid the towel to her side, exposing her completely. The divine beauty of her body stole the last sane thought he had.

“Oh!” Shock made her voice stronger, but she was boneless on the table. He waited. Boneless was one thing. Feeling helpless was another. The oiled heat of her body was reaching up to him, wrapping around him like a fine scarf in winter. Over his nose and mouth, making him dizzy with need.

“Let me please you,” he managed over a thick tongue. A shudder rolled down her body.

“This isn’t a common offer, is it?” Her words were confused, trying to understand.

“No, Deena. This is for you, because you asked for the method.” Only a partial lie, a play on words that she herself had written. He was dying to feel her orgasm after having his hands all over her body for the last hour.

His eyes had almost fallen out of his head when he’d seen that one written word: orgasms. At first he believed he’d imagined it because he’d thought of little else when it came to Deena. It was a perfect opportunity, albeit a stolen one. He’d take it and run like a thief.

After a minute’s hesitation, she relaxed and actually spread her thighs for him, lifting her hips to press into his palm.

He didn’t ask twice, slowly working the oiled heat of his palm over her slit, feeling the way her body trembled and arched against his motions. He wished he could take her the way he’d craved since that fateful day all those months ago, but her ex had done a real number on her.

So much so that Sylvia had become extremely worried over her. Unable to wait for time to cure her heart, he’d made a deal with Sylvia to get Deena to the spa. He was going to do much more than heal her heart, given the chance. He was going to awaken her body.

He slid his palm over her pussy, and she moaned, the sound low and aching. He wanted her to turn over, to find her with his mouth, and devour her in all the ways he knew he could, but he wasn’t ready for her to see him yet. He didn’t want any connection made to him as one of the guests at Laura’s wedding, because that would too easily lead back to Rafael then Sylvia and the whole set up to get her to Touch. It was too possible for her to realize who he was, since she was at his spa, and he didn’t want to hurt her. He would tell her, but not now. It was too soon. He didn’t want his reputation and wealth to make the first impression. For now, he only wanted her to know him as André when she did finally see his face, to protect her if this was the only time he should have with her.

By the heat beneath his hands, he sincerely doubted he was imagining this. She’d find out about Derek Richards in due time. He wasn’t thrilled with the lie, but he wouldn’t risk hurting her if he was wrong about this attraction, if she didn’t feel the same, because he knew he wanted her. He felt on fire from just the hour they’d spent together already.

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Passions

By: Diana DeRicci | Other books by Diana DeRicci
Published By: Tease Publishing LLC
ISBN # 978-1-60767-092-6

Word Count: 15,000 Heat Index 5

Categories: Erotica Contemporary

Available in: Adobe Acrobat

Price: $1.99

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When love comes in not one but two packages, can Travis hold them together when pride dares to rip them apart?

Avery and Kaitlyn are Travis’s every fantasy come to life. Fun, energetic and both are attracted to Travis. Silently, he’s been lusting for the best friends for months. Passions explode when the ladies take control and awaken all their hidden desires. But when an old flame rises out of Kaitlyn’s past, the line between love and pride is challenged. Can Travis prove he is the man they both want, the one man they both can love even when love was never part of the no strings attached plan?

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Excerpt:

Gratefully, the limo slowed then stopped, the door popping open in front of the club doors.

“Awright!” He smiled at Avery’s eagerness. “I love this kind of service.”

“You love any kind of service,” Kaitlyn shot back winding an arm through one of Travis’s once all three stood on the walk. Avery did the same.

Avery looked up at Travis through thick lashes, her brown eyes glimmering in the neon. “I love being serviced,” she purred, her lips moving with a sheen that made him want to reach down and devour. Then the meaning of her words hit him. Shit!

Travis managed to swallow the gulped exclamation. He focused ahead. “Ladies,” he encouraged, getting them through the doors before he tossed them back in the limo and stripped them both.

Avery lifted a hand, pointing out a perfect table through the darkened interior. Multi-colored lights glinted off of walls and furniture, sparking like indoor fireworks. The club was busy but hadn’t quite reached packed yet. It wouldn’t take long on a Saturday night.

“What do you desire?” he asked, immediately shaking his head at his own choice of words. He usually wasn’t the king of lost blatant opportunities. He followed Avery, sliding onto the leather and chrome shadowed booth, with the girls flanking him. Two hot and sizzling glances destroyed his efforts in the limo. He was hotter and harder than a steel rod laying in coals under his jeans zipper. Avery teased her lip with a flickering tongue and he did groan, glad the thumping music hid it. This was going to be a night of torture. He just didn’t know if he was going to love it or hate it yet.

Travis waved over one of the drink waitresses through the growing throng, giving their order than wrapped his arms around the girls again, fighting like hell to relax, or at the least, fake being nonchalant. After the drinks arrived, he asked them, “Dancing later?”

Avery nodded and Kaitlyn smiled in agreement, pulling the straw from her drink to slide into her lush mouth, wrapping her tongue around it, letting it disappear back and forth with slow momentum. He blinked.

Okay, now that was pretty clear, he thought. He swore he’d been imagining the teasing looks, the way lingering fingertips had caressed him on the drive to the club, blaming it all to a much too active imagination and a lust for these two that went way off the charts. Then he jerked up straight. While he’d been enthralled watching Kaitlyn working the straw like a wet dream pro, Avery’s hand had slid into dangerous territory, rolling over the bulge in his jeans.

He sucked in air, then fighting the shudders rocking his chest grabbed his beer and slammed half of it in three gulps.

Fuckin’ A, he wanted these two. Glancing at one then the other, he caught the heat in their eyes watching him, trading sultry promising looks and wicked little grins back and forth between themselves and slowly the light bulb began to glow. Two women, into each other, who both wanted him. And shit, did he want them. He’d craved them practically since the minute they’d jogged up to him and started talking to him with their tight little shorts and sweat-drenched tops.

The shudder that rolled down his body telegraphed to both of his dates. “Ooh shit,” he breathed. He closed his eyes swallowing hard, praying harder, praying like never before that he was right and if he was, ready to thank any god responsible. “Both of you?” They nodded, not even pretending to not understand.

“But let’s have fun tonight,” Avery drawled, lowering her lashes as her hand cradled his cock, her fingers slipping south to form completely around his shape, massaging lightly. “The night is young.”

“God,” he groaned. “You’re both sexier than hell.” The words fell out in a growl because Kaitlyn’s hand had also disappeared under the table. It began a slow meander up his abdomen, fluttering as if unable to decide its destination.

“It’s called che-mis-try,” Kaitlyn teased throatily, sending more sparks down his spine. “You are one hot thing too.”

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Liar. Fake. Fraud. Deceiver.

The accusations buzzed through Shar’s mind like the largest swarm of locusts, the intense drone driving all sane thought far away. Drunken shouts and swearing made aching pain rise and fall in an obnoxious rhythm while the clang of steel doors being thrown into their locks reverberated in her ears. Up and down the cells the crude noise echoed. Being a woman, she had her own private chamber of hell. Lucky her.

Her hangover pounded on as the morning darkness crawled past her. Disgust warred with nausea when she counted just how many hours she’d been trying to erase those flung curses, especially considering who’d said them. The man who’d deceived her in flying colors. One by one they marched like a line of tromping ants across her thoughts. Shar was forced to listen to their mocking sound.

Liar.

She swallowed hearing its guttural sound over and over in the silence of her accommodations-for-one tomb. She’d never lied about her ability, never let the words of denial slip past her lips. Omission though, that she knew she was guilty of. It was paramount. Humans, people in general, had never warmed to her kind.

Fake.

Ah, yes, another flung taunt. She was so far from fake. She was better than lab-created reality. She was the real thing. Not that it mattered now. None of it would help her in her current situation. Which led her to not being a fraud obviously, at least not the kind Lawson had accused her of being. She so easily could use her magic to get out of jail, and be on the nine o’clock news in the morning as the latest sensation. She snickered in silence.

But that last–deceiver. Yeah, that one hurt. That one burned.

She’d intended to tell him the truth about what she was–today in fact. She knew she was running out of time. She thought he trusted her. She thought he loved her. He had asked her rather impetuously to marry once already. What a load of bull. Derision iced her thoughts. It didn’t feel any better than the bitter headache.

He’d proposed in style this time with the ring and like an idiot she’d accepted it first. The cruel truth slapping her like that had been the only small blessing she’d received because the rest of her day and her night had promptly fallen into a hellish wormhole of misfortune.

The musty, sour stench of previous inhabitants reeked back at her from the grim furnishings of the jail cell she was at the moment calling home. She prayed it was for only a very short stay. Abused brick walls looked like they’d been repeatedly painted by the numerous signs of peeling. The two-inch thick steel door with nothing but viewing bars sandwiched between polyurethane plastic sheets preempted any attempt to try to escape. The guard on the other side would shoot before she got three toes on the other side.

After a humiliating strip search–for God only knew what–the police had left her alone for most of the evening. She knew exactly who she was going to waste her one phone call on. And the bastard better answer his phone if he knew what was good for him. She had no choice but to wait for dawn, the best chance of reaching him at home. It also gave her more than ample time to replay the night before, the reason behind her forced stay in county hospitality to begin with.

* * * *

“Shar!”

She whirled at the shout of her name, and spotted her best friend twisting through the crowd outside the front of the club. Far from angelic beneath midnight dark hair and eyes models craved, Maddie emerged from the throng. Mystic was the only place to be on a Saturday night. The large blue neon letters blazed over the dark entrance; an entrance into another world, at least if you were Kin. Either way, inside or out, it was always busy on the weekends.

“Hey Maddie.” She looped an arm through her friend’s and together they walked into the fog and neon haven. She forced a smile, not wanting to talk about why she was there alone when just six hours ago, she had been nearly engaged. In fact, for a brief few minutes, she had been engaged. Until her eyes had been opened to the man she’d believed loved her.

“Boxer, give me something flaming, will you?” she ordered from the tattooed guy behind the bar in a near shout. Bass beats vibrated the air, booming loud and rocking the house like a frat boy’s wet dream. Scantily dressed women danced all over. She drew a deep breath, soaking it all in. It’d been a while since she’d been to the hot spot. She’d been doing more normal things with Lawson. She realized she’d missed being with her own kind.

“One Flaming Star, coming up,” he said, not missing a stride, as if it wasn’t an unusual order for her. She turned and propped her butt against a barstool. Her gaze sliced one way then the other across the undulating bodies packed on the dance floor. She tugged on the leather corset she wore, more out of irritation than for modesty. It fit her like a glove, and matched her attitude. Black, lethal and screaming ‘I’m one hot single babe’, because as of three that afternoon, there was no doubt she was not getting married.

“Flaming Star?” Maddie asked, her eyes wide against her porcelain skin. Deep blue, they reflected the neon glow and scattered fragments of the disco balls on the dance floor like fireworks in their depths. “Shar? What’s wrong?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “What could possibly be wrong?” she said with a snide undertone. She hadn’t anticipated running into Maddie, but she wasn’t going to turn down the shoulders of one of her best friends. Memories of her afternoon still burned. It was the biggest reason she was in the mood for leather tonight. And Flaming Stars.

“Um, you don’t drink for one, and you ordered a Flaming Star. Two sips and you’ll be on your ass.”

Maddie was right, but she refused to admit it. Instead, she focused her attention on the sea of bodies in front of her.

“Here you go,” Boxer said, sliding the drink toward her on the hardwood bar. She turned to watch the show. A pool of something dark green and sweet-smelling was layered over the base crème liqueurs of the drink. He snapped his fingers and the pool ignited with a cerulean flame. “Make your wish before you blow it out. It’s the only way to drink a Flaming Star.” He winked then turned to get more drink orders filled.

She grimaced. Her wishes would likely get her into more trouble because they involved the maiming and torturing of a particular male. Thankfully no one would think of reading her mind because even without actually making the wish, it was really hard not to think about making that wish.

Maddie spoke up. “What happened Shar? You didn’t answer me.”

Shar frowned, envisioning her now ex’s face melting in the glowing flame. He silently screamed as his face solidified in the arc of light, melting like hot wax. “I found out Lawson’s been using me.” Oh, fuck it. She made her wish and blew out the flame. Maddie’s jaw fell open. Carefully cradling the tumbler she blew on it, waiting for the glass and liquid to cool enough to sip at the heat-candied liquor layer on top.

She looked across the dance floor to the few tables and spotted Braden and his friends at one. The table next to them was just being vacated. “Let’s go grab it,” she said.

Once they were situated, Maddie tilted her chin to talk privately, but there was no mistaking the shock in her voice. “But you two are engaged!”

“Nearly engaged. We were nearly engaged,” she corrected. Sans one ring, it was pending. She refused to call herself engaged to that jerk.

A choking sound came from Maddie. Shar’s gaze stayed locked on the liquid in her drink. Looking up might have disastrous results. The people on the dance floor should be thankful she’d learned control at an early age. The urge to let it out was incredible. A small explosion. Just a small one. She would feel so much better, expelling the pent up rage she was silently wallowing in. She forced restraint on her temper instead.

“He popped the question over a month ago. I thought all that was left was the ring. Did he buy the ring?”

A lip lifted in a snarl. “He bought a ring all right.” She’d even had a few minutes to enjoy it and the way it looked on her finger before the truth hit her with the force of megaton comet. The painful expulsion of air she’d suffered wearing the glittering diamond had knocked her down. Waves of anger and humiliation made the air shimmer around her. She forced calm back down her throat, along with the first sip of the concoction in her hand. One sip to go and oblivion would be hers. At least for tonight. “Did you know he could block his mind?”

Maddie shook her head, her eyes bulging with what that meant. Lawson knew she was a witch. “How would he know?” she demanded. Her eyes glowed brightly from the inside with indignation, sparking from more than the lights from the strobes hanging from the ceiling. Shar didn’t know how Lawson had figured it out, or if he’d known all along. She never got the chance to find out.

It had been a hell of a shock for Shar, that was for damn sure. After a year, she’d had no idea. Talk about being a fool, and he’d accused her of being a deceiver. The irony still made her want to scream. She’d been silent for her own protection. That had been the least of his reasons.

“Neither did I. The ring was charged with his aura and I slipped right in behind his protections before I even knew what had happened. I wasn’t expecting it at all. I think he didn’t believe I’d find him out, definitely not so easily. He’s had training to protect himself. He’s probably known all along that I have powers. He was after something.”

“Oh, Shar,” Maddie said with sympathy.

“I’m not, or wasn’t, his only girlfriend either.” She controlled the shudder when she was forced to acknowledge just how unfaithful he’d been. He’d been playing with her, pretending to care. She’d thought the proposal had been real. He just didn’t have the ring when he’d asked her, his blushing face giving away that it had been spur of the moment. The ring hadn’t been that important to her. He’d asked her to marry him! She had been ecstatic. Amazing how well he could act. Derision burned at the memory. She thought the emotion had been real too. It hadn’t meant dick to Lawson. The proof was all the women he’d shared his bed with since she’d known him. Let Maddie think it was just one. She could live with that, rather than the reality.

This time the squeak of outrage was much louder. “You’re kidding, right? He couldn’t have been that stupid.”

“Apparently he is.”

“Shar, honey. I’m so sorry.” Still dumbfounded, she murmured, “I can’t believe he’d lie like that. He fooled all of us, then.” The note of support coming from Maddie eased the pain knifing through her. “I had no idea. None of us knew him before he came to Granier Falls. He always seemed so damn honest.” It was against the Kin laws to probe minds. Just once she should have done it. She’d have saved herself a year of humiliation.

She shrugged again, more than ready to put the whole relationship behind her. “I don’t think anyone did.” She took another sip, savoring it slowly. She didn’t blame anyone but herself for following along, believing in his handsome faced lies.

“He’s a scumbag,” Maddie said staunchly. Shar had to agree, emphatically.

Getting over the deceitfulness of the man she’d almost married though, that might take her a while. She couldn’t believe it. She’d been preparing herself since the original proposal to tell him about herself, to explain her ability and what being a member of the local clans meant, but it hadn’t been necessary. He’d guarded himself especially well to keep her from sensing his intentions. He’d slipped somehow with the ring.

Partly he’d been after her father’s money, of which yes, she had a little, but she still worked, still earned her own. Her shop in downtown Granier Falls suited some of the sexier feminine wishes. She personally loved the butter-soft leathers she special-ordered for some of her biker friends and their wives. The specialty shop had grown into a full lingerie clothing line and women’s leather accoutrement store. With that going on, there wasn’t any need to take over her father’s finances until it was physically a necessity, and the way her old man was going, she had a long while to wait. Locals knew her lineage. She didn’t hide it, but she didn’t flaunt it either. Only Kin knew she was a witch, following the family tree for several generations. She’d never suspected Lawson had such a hunger for what she had waiting for her when her parents finally needed her to take over the accounts. Scumbag was actually too kind for him.

The multiple lovers thing… The air shimmered again, a little brighter, a little hotter. Her hair sparked and fluttered as the energy gathered. She’d almost managed to not think about that.

“Easy, Shar,” Maddie whispered, her shoulder to her own in solidarity. “Be mad, but not in here.”

She nodded at her friend’s advice. Maddie had some incredible energy strengths herself, but nothing that she’d earned the reputation like Shar had over the years. Family spells helped her a lot. She was also one of the best scryers in Granier Falls. Lose your diamond ring? Call Maddie. Shar’s lips twitched at that. She’d seen her do it. Wench, even though it was thought with deep affection. Her sonic-level energy ranged from having the lightest touch of power up to being able to topple a temple with one finger. Shar envied her that. Maddie’s apartment was never dusty. Shar on the other hand…

She was well known for her flare-ups, but had learned over the years to keep them under wraps. She wasn’t lacking for control most of the time, but this was one of those circumstances where letting loose–even just a little–would feel so good. It was like having a good cry, or a hot bath or even both. She’d been so wired since this afternoon, she hadn’t thought of doing anything about it. Until now. And this just wasn’t the right place for it.

She took another drink. A full one. To hell with sips. The warmth from the candied liquid on top along with the raw burn of the alcohol sliding down her throat made her eyes water. Sweetness and something peppery blended on her tongue, coated her all the way down to her stomach. One more swallow and the lowball glass was empty. Damn but those went down easy after the first shock.

Braden turned and spotted them. Probably because she’d tossed sparks, and anyone who knew Shar knew when she was throwing a temper.

“Hello ladies!” Braden grinned, leaning over the leather of the bench seat, a couple of pals and their dates hovering. “What’s going on? Haven’t seen you in a while Shar.” He said it with a taunting grin. “Set anything on fire lately?” His mouth held a wicked smirk. The gleam in his dark brown eyes seemed to catch the lights and glow with his amusement. It was those same eyes and the sexy taunt of his mouth—and his knowledge of how to use them—that kept his datebook filled with other orderlies and nurses from the hospital where he worked.

She glared at him, then put on a face of sultry decadence. “Just your dreams, lover,” she replied in a throaty tease.

A round of howls ensued. Maddie gave her a worried glance, but Shar was feeling pretty impervious. She pushed the empty glass toward Maddie. “I want another one.”

“Shar…” She eyed the glass and Shar knew she was studying the moment, searching for the right balance. Really looking for a way to stop the inevitable.

Braden picked it up. Actually, he called it to him, levitating it off the table to hand it to one of the others sitting with him. “Bring the lady a Flaming Star,” he ordered. “Tell Boxer not to light it. I want that privilege.”

Maddie groaned, but Shar didn’t care. Braden had always pushed Shar’s buttons. Summer seasons spent training together for their education in the magical arts had proven one thing. There was no one better than Braden.

Except Shar. And it ate at him like a vicious dog, swallowing his common sense in one bite. Even drunk Shar knew she was better, better skilled, with more control.

She stood from the table. She swung her hair back and absorbed the sound of the night, the heat of the bodies in the club. It was its own high. She licked her lips. Leather gleamed in the dance floor lights and arching an eyebrow at him she told him, “Bring it on.”

Chapter Two

Trajan rolled over to the shriek of his phone, carefully disengaging the slim arm hanging over his chest. A glance at the clock told him it was seven in the morning. He dragged a hand down his face, silently cursing the idiot on the other end when he answered.

“This better be important.” His voice was rough and deep from sleep. He’d had a long night, a male grin forming to why and how delicious of a night it had been, but the voice on the other end made his mouth turn down immediately.

“Trajan, I need you to come to the station. I’ve been arrested.”

“Shar?”

“No, the Sta-Puff Marshmallow Man. Yes, it’s Shar, and I only have two minutes, so get your ass down here.”

He snapped awake at her scratchy, tired and undeniably pissed tone. “What are doing in jail?”

“Just come down here. And stop by my place and grab a credit card. I might need bail.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Which station?”

“Eighth street.”

“Fine. You better be ready to explain this one.”

“Sounds fair, just … do it Trajan.”

He heard the soft plea in her voice. He knew she’d never actually beg him for his help, so asking for it to begin with had to make this a big deal. She was a tough lady, and smart. Then why did she call Trajan instead of Lawson? Not her parents, and not her fiancé. He shook his head.

He let the air out of his lungs, sliding from the bed. A soft whimpering murmur reminded him he wasn’t alone. “Sissy, could you lock up when you leave? I have to go help a friend.”

She blinked large emerald eyes at him, lifting a little on one hand. The sheet drifted further down her back to uncover the curved side of her breast as she rose from her stomach. Memory filled in what he’d done with those breasts just a few hours before. She wasn’t one of his kind, and he preferred it that way for these kinds of relationships. No entanglements. Dating one of the Kin lead to presupposed outcomes. He knew he wasn’t looking to marry and ruin a perfectly good bachelorhood existence. Intermingling was allowed and many did marry outside of the Kin, but this was his own rule and he lived by it. Saved himself from a mile long list of questions and matchmaking that would go nowhere.

His skin stretched as he stood, working muscles into wakefulness with reaching movements. He detoured for a quick shower, leaving his warm bed and an even hotter blonde in it. He dropped a kiss to her pouty mouth, confirming she would be gone by the time he got home, albeit regrettably, because he’d been looking forward to a morning goodbye. He shook his head. Shar better have a damn good reason for this one.

Arrested? Shar Brenna wasn’t the type to get arrested. So what had she done to be arrested and need bail?

He rode his Black Nightmare, an aptly named black and chrome chopper, toward her apartment. He didn’t need a key to get in, which helped, the metal in the lock obeying his commands. He found her purse on the kitchen counter and after a minute of digging through her wallet, spotted a Visa. Her apartment was like many others, simple in color, furnished with only a few things; an entertainment center and TV system, a couch, side chair and coffee table. He grinned when he thought of all the times he’d teased her about her bedroom back at her home, loaded with unicorns and fairies. She’d been quite the girlie girl growing up. She was definitely all woman now. He frowned, wondering why the thought of her grown up now should even matter. It was too early in the morning for shit from Shar, that was the problem.

With the card in his pocket and her door locked beneath his fingers, he drove downtown, pushing away the thoughts of her grown-up self.

The station was morosely quiet for a Sunday morning. He looked at the guy in blue behind the glass; a normal guy, tired and probably at the end of his shift. Trajan caught his stare and held it. Something about his behavior told him all was not well in Oz. Must have been a long night. “Is she under suspicion for something?” he asked, requesting information about her and if there was bail.

The teller rolled a shoulder. An officer nearby shook his head when the teller looked to another in a blue uniform. Trajan didn’t know this officer. He was older, had probably been on the force for his whole life, just not around there. Trajan recognized a lot of them. He knew a few of the Kin were on the force, but this wasn’t the right time to try to find one.

The cop motioned to Trajan to bring him over. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t offer a handshake. “No bail. She hasn’t been charged. Yet.”

The teller pulled the clipboard Trajan had signed toward himself and started the release work ignoring the lowered conversation going on nearby.

“Then why is she being held?” A lick of anger flared through his gut, but he held it back. She’d spent the night in jail for nothing?

“She’s a witness to last night’s fire.” The officer rocked back on his heels. “She could be a suspect depending on what’s found, if she remembers anything,” he said with meaning.

Dark eyebrows rose. “Fire?” Ah, hell, Shar. What did you do? There was more, he was sure of it. Information Trajan wasn’t going to find out without a lawyer. He just wanted her out of that slime hole. That was the priority.

“Yeah, the Mystic. Went up hard and fast. Several units are down there this morning searching the rubble. Looks like one hell of an accident.”

He swallowed. Shar? Responsible for arson? That was the definite vibe this cop was giving off. Trajan’s lips thinned into a grim line. That did not sound right. How did Shar get picked out of a crowd for starting a fire? He could only imagine. “I’m a friend of the family. She’s not going anywhere.” He’d only find out by talking to her.

The steel in his voice must have been very convincing. The officer didn’t blink an eye, just nodded and walked away. The teller moved to the thick door leading to the rear cell hallway. He pushed an intercom. “You can bring out the redhead. Her ride’s here.”

Trajan’s gaze locked on that door. Just what the hell did she get into? This was not like Shar. For as long as he’d known her, she’d been safe and sane. Arson? She had a temper and had been known to have little blow ups, but to torch the nightclub? That couldn’t be right.

The sight of her red hair when the door opened made his eyes narrow. The golden-red thickness lay in disarray, attesting to the long hours she’d been running her hands through the fine silk reaching down her back. The black leather bustier she wore held her breasts like loving hands, pushing the ivory mounds upward, stretched like a second skin around her ribs and waist. The bottom hem stopped just shy of the waistband of her pants, delivering teases of a flat stomach and her navel as she walked forward. It wasn’t just the bustier she wore either. The pants were leather too, painted on with a hedonistic brush, hugging every inch of her long legs and sweetly curved hips, ending in a wicked pair of black-heeled boots. Damn, but she must have been in a mood yesterday. He rarely saw her dressed like this.

It was a good thing, too. He had a hard time keeping that younger sister label on her when she did. They weren’t related, not even close. They’d grown up together, had the same summer instructors, and several Kin functions where they’d always paired up to hang out and he’d never thought of her as anything but his own sister except on rare occasions. This was one of them. That black leather had his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, wanting to run it from the arch of her boot all the way up to the juncture that he knew would be hot. Shar didn’t know how to be any other way.

He sucked in a breath finally rising up the length of her body to meet her eyes when he felt he could. Tired but defiant. The officer opened the panel in the hip high wood barrier and she walked trustingly into his arms.

“Thanks for coming, Trajan,” she whispered into his chest. His arms encircled her automatically.

Taking a deep breath, he brushed her hair away from the silk of her skin. She was pale with exhaustion but she looked unharmed.

“You owe me an explanation,” he reminded her, his voice filled with his annoyance. Not only with her situation, but they’d held her overnight for no reason. Not any reason they’d given him. Maybe she had a better one.

She nodded. His fingers tingled where they brushed against the bare skin of her back.

“Miss Brenna, here’s your ID.”

She slid it into the rear pocket of her pants without giving the teller a look. “Is that everything?” Trajan asked her.

“Everything but my dignity,” she replied for his ears only. A shiver rolled across her shoulders. He noticed all the men had stopped to watch her leave. Not that he could blame them in that skintight leather man-trap outfit she was wearing. The corner of his mouth lifted in a silent snarl and one by one they blinked or turned away from her. “They searched me,” she whispered, the sound wavering with her own disgust and humiliation. “I didn’t do anything.”

He shook his head, the clip of his boots sharp in the morning stillness surrounding them. She’d never been arrested. Another shred of innocence destroyed. Although he doubted she was all that innocent anymore, but it kept his thoughts from going down roads he didn’t even need to consider when it came to Shar. And all that damn soft leather.

Instead of pulling her close again, he told her, “Come on,” swallowing when his voice was still gruff. The want to curl her into his body, to protect her not only from the leering stares but from the memory of the night he was sure she’d spent cooped up behind bars was unbelievably overpowering. It kept him moving them both out through the front doors of the station. It was the brother reflex. He knew it. Except she didn’t look like anyone’s sister this morning.

She looked like heaven wrapped in sin.

She slid onto his bike and waited. He shook his head dismissing the arousing thoughts, hitting the starter and leaving the station for her apartment.

He’d had a woman sitting behind him just the night before, but the heat of her lean leather clad thighs pressed against him made his heart race. He clenched his jaw. What the hell was going on? Shar was taken damn it! She was his little sister. It was the safest column to put her in. Getting yanked out of a warm bed, and out of warmer arms fed the frustration she was causing. He growled at her to get off, barely able to control the irritation of what he’d had to leave back at home by the time they reached her complex.

She glared at him, then tossed her head, throwing her long red wave of hair behind her as she marched to her front door. It opened two paces before she reached it, making his eyes narrow. Damn but she was pissed. She never threw around careless magic. He pocketed the key to his ride and followed her into the apartment, closing the door the usual way. With his hand.

“Shar?”

His voice sank into the numb quiet. Rustles came from her bedroom. He strode to the doorway where he found her. She sat on the edge of her bed, rubbing her scalp with stiff fingers. “I didn’t do anything,” she said, her voice low, her eyes closed.

“What happened?”

It wasn’t until he heard her sniff that he realized why she wouldn’t look at him. Her body shuddered as she took a deep breath. “Maddie is dead.”

Trajan blinked. “Maddie?” Dead?

She nodded and her fingers continued. Another deep breath lifted her shoulders, filled her body. Her voice was hoarse, fighting tears. “She was there with me. She was on the dance floor when the first explosion happened.” Her words wavered. “I was drunk, but I didn’t cause the fire.” She swallowed, her voice saying she just wanted someone to believe her. “I swear I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Misery coated every syllable. He understood her concerns. Shar’s talents were born from the natural elements. Wind, water … fire. She was a walking fireball most days, but had learned how to control it. There hadn’t been an incident of any magnitude since she was seven. But the Mystic was their hangout, others–non-magic users–weren’t typically in the know to find it, much less get in. They only got in if they were with someone and were known. It was a precaution, and it was necessary. There weren’t many clubs in Granier Hills that were Kin-only, but the Mystic had been.

“A lot of people knew I was mad,” she said, a forlorn admittance to a guilt he knew she didn’t want, praying that even drunk, she wasn’t to blame.

He knew what she was saying, but knew better than to charge in and demand answers. He’d leave with singed body parts if he did, and it wouldn’t be the first time. “Did it have something to do with you getting drunk?”

A firm blush rose on her skin and she tilted, using her hair to cover her cheeks. “It had everything to do with getting drunk.”

“Shar,” he groaned.

She whipped up, and her light blue eyes impaled him. “I did not cause the fire.” She stood to her feet and his mouth went dry.

Okay, he had to admit it, even if only silently. Shar was hot. Wild, thick red hair, eyes that reminded him of cloudless spring skies sparked with her anger like whips of lightning, and soft lips that deserved kisses for hours parted. He didn’t dare look at that leather again. His mind seemed to desert him thinking of what was under it, of how it looked hugging her body and the sweet curve of her breasts. Usually she was in jeans and something not screaming sex. Thank God she was engaged and wasn’t in any way his problem.

She stalked up to him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Don’t ‘Shar’ me,” she snapped. “People saw me.”

His hands shot out and gripped her shoulders. “Others?” A fresh flash of anger had him digging his fingertips into the pale white skin beneath his touch. She was a sex kitten dressed the way she was. It was making it hard for him, in more than one way, to stay focused on the problem at hand. It had to be because he’d had to leave Sissy back in his own bed. Shar had ruined his morning plans. It wasn’t all that surprising, he guessed. She also had the knack for riling him into a hot anger. She winced as his thoughts tumbled faster and his fingers tightened. He relaxed the instant he realized the marks he saw on her skin were from him.

A sigh, one full of regret slipped past her lips. “No. I don’t think there was anyone but Kin in the club.” But he could tell by the evasive glances she slid passed him, she couldn’t guarantee him that either.

“Damn it, Shar. You know better. You’re twenty-eight. And I know you have better control than that. Hell, you don’t even drink.”

She smacked his hands away and glared up at him, the heat in her gaze damning him for bringing up the obvious. Even in those sexy as sin black boots, she only came to his chin. He couldn’t resist and slid his palms up her arms onto her shoulders again. Her skin felt warm and silken against him. Fire raced up his arms. It was a sure sign she was furious again.

“And why did you call me? Why didn’t you call Lawson? Where was he?”

Pale blue eyes rounded then closed, a sharp pain slicing through her expression before she hid them entirely from him.