Angel Seduced (29 page)

“Let me up!” She tried to buck him off, which drove her pelvis up and dangerously close to smashing his balls.

He lay all his weight on top of her. “Not until you promise to stop fighting.”

“I can't promise that. How long do the effects of your magick stun gun last?”

“Up to thirty minutes.”

She bucked again, but he finally had her under his control. And he liked it. His women were always willing. Something about the fight completely turned him on, especially the way her pelvis bumped against his.

Her eyes widened. “Holy dragonfire, are you…does fighting get you…hot?”

He supposed, with all of this writhing around, it was inevitable that she'd notice his erection. “Not usually, but then again, I've never fought a feisty, naked female in the mud before. I have to admit, it's doing strange things to me.” At her surprised look, he added, “Well, you asked. I answered honestly.”

She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Okay then, answer this honestly. Why are you here?”

That was a bit trickier, but he could stick to the true part. “I came to ask you more about your allegations.”

She just stared at him for a moment, her brown eyes disbelieving. “Instead of catching me in the parking lot, or calling, you sneak onto my land and surprise me. Are you kidding? Are you friggin' kidding me?”

“No, I'm not. Why else would I be here?”

She let out something like a growl. “After I was summarily dismissed, why would the Guard suddenly take me seriously and send someone out? And for God's sake, why
you
?”

He had those kinds of
why
questions, too, none of which he could share with her. “I'm not here on behalf of the Guard.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. Mud streaked her face, her toned body, and gods help him, she was tantalizing.

“What's that supposed to mean?” she asked.

“I came on my own, because what you said piqued my interest. There's no need for the senseless deaths that would come from clan wars.” He'd seen that fear in her eyes when she'd appealed to Ferro. “I want to hear everything you know.”

She seemed to weigh his words. He knew how to lie well when he had to. It was part of his training, though he rarely used it in his personal life. This situation blurred the line. Violet was blurring all kinds of lines, obliterating others.

She took advantage of his introspection, because he was suddenly spinning off of her, compliments of an impressive twist and kick of her long, long legs. He came to his feet, ready for another attack.

She was stalking over to where her clothes had shredded when she'd Catalyzed. She held the remains of the nice, tight shirt she'd been wearing to her chest. Suspicion drenched her expression. “You're serious?” Kade saw a mixture of hope and skepticism in her eyes. And that eradicated any last shred of doubt that she was behind this.

“Very.” He pulled off his shirt and tossed it to her.

She snatched it out of the air and wriggled into it, giving him one last heavenly view of her full breasts and flat stomach as she pulled it on. She pushed her muddy hair from her face. “Why do you care? We're all marsh trash to the likes of you.”

“The likes of me? Because I'm a Vega?”

“Everything about you.” She swept her gaze over him. “You move like royalty, you act like you rule the world, and you look untouchable.”

Which he found amusing since he was as muddy as she was. She waited for his answer. He rubbed the mud, now itching, from his neck, buying time. Royalty, huh? He sure as hell didn't feel like any of that at the moment. At least she hadn't called him pretty. “My gut says there's something going on, just like you suspect. If the Guard won't listen, then I will.”

“Why sneak up on me? You know what ‘animals' we all are.” She'd heard someone say it, obviously, as she mimicked it with a sneer. “We do act on instinct, at least our Dragon does. I didn't even know you were there; my Dragon did. I could have killed you.”

He gave her a smile he was sure
was
smug. “No, you couldn't have.”

She rolled her eyes. “This is a bet, isn't it? Can Kade Kavanaugh nail the marsh trash? You might as well go home. Ain't gonna happen. You're totally not my type.”

Except those hardened nubs poking against his shirt told a different story. Of course, so did his cock, even as he said, “Neither are you, if that makes you feel any better. I'm a Deuce-gal kind of guy.” Although this Dragon appealed to him more than any other Crescent—Deuce or Dragon—that he'd encountered before. And that was just…crazy. “I'd never try to nail a woman for a bet.” He let his mouth curve into a smile. “Only for the mutual pleasure of both parties.”

A sound escaped her throat, but she cleared it. “Are you sure you're not here to sniff out any more pot farms? Find something else to bust my brothers on?”

He didn't blame her for her distrust. She had good reason not to trust the Guard, as it turned out. “Arlo was the worst offender. He had problems, whether you want to admit it or not.”

She gave a quick nod of her head. “He did.”

“Now he's dead. Let's find out why.” When her skepticism didn't waver, he added, “Violet, you went to the Guard for help. I'm here. Let me help.”

The words broke down her resistance. The battle between distrusting him and needing him played over her expression. “You can't come in my house like that.” She walked over to a faucet and turned the squeaky knob, using the hose to rinse her hair and face first. He watched, entranced, as water sluiced over her and plastered his shirt to her curves. After rinsing her legs, she headed toward him and held the stream over his head. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, feeling the grit wash away. Then she stepped back and pressed her thumb over the end to pressurize the stream. She aimed it across his shoulders and arms first.

He swore she took vengeful pleasure in hosing him down. Or maybe it was just pleasure. Her eyes followed the mud as it slid down his bare chest. Hell, he could feel that gaze slide down his body, embers flickering in her eyes. The water was cool, the sun was hot, and he took the blast of water without giving away the war that raged through him.

Ferro's voice told him to take her out.

Cyn told him to trust his gut.

Berlin's female singer sang about flames reaching out for the sun.

Then she reached for his upper chest. “You've got a scratch. I must have done that.” She gently brushed her fingers across it beneath the water's flow. A wake of sensation followed her caress.

“Violet,” he said, cursing himself for the hitch in his voice.

That got her attention. “Am I hurting you?”

He took the hand at his chest and drew it down to the front of his wet pants. “This much.” He thought she'd give him hell for being so brazen, slap him silly, and that would break them out of this moment of insanity. Because that was the only explanation, that the situation and adrenaline had tilted them right into crazy territory.

Instead, her eyes fired up, and he swore she actually
squeezed
his erection just a tiny bit.
Holy shit.
She angled one of her legs between his, her hands sliding to his hips. Her thigh moved up along his, and he bit back a curse. This
was
insanity. Not seconds before he'd proclaimed he was a Deuce-only kind of guy. But right now, he was feeling all of her Dragon heat. The directive from his superior officer, the insanity of this attraction, the danger he saw simmering in her eyes, not even the cool water that continued to bathe him did a damn thing to douse his ardor.

He took the hose from her hand and let the water wash over her. When his free hand traced her collarbone, she closed her eyes, her head lolling back. He suspected that surrender wasn't something Violet often did, which only made the gesture more profound. How the hell was he supposed to grasp for any last thread of sanity now?

“Violet,” he whispered her name this time. He meant it to sound like a call to logic, but it came out as more of a plea. For more.

His shirt was plastered over her firm breasts, clinging to her hardened nipples. Damn, she was hot, all sleek skin and toned muscle. With her eyes on his, she peeled off the shirt.

Kade didn't stop to think; he just reacted. He dropped the hose, grasped her by the waist, and lifted her up. Her legs went around him, and their mouths collided. Her lips were soft against his, her tongue sliding in and tangling with his own. She made these little mewling sounds as she pressed closer, her legs tightening around his waist, her hands kneading the muscles of his shoulders and back. His hands slid from her hips to palm her perfect ass. Damn. Just
damn
.

She did some kind of sucking move with her mouth that traveled all the way down to his cock and made it twitch. His pants were the only thing separating them, and if she kept up this rodeo ride, it wouldn't take magick to bust through that barrier. His fingers tightened on her smooth, wet flesh, and he switched to hold her with one arm, moving his other hand to her firm, round breasts. Her small nipples were pink, beaded, and his mouth actually watered at the thought of sucking on them. Before he could claim one of those glistening peaks, she was kissing him again so he plucked at her nipples instead. Her moan of pleasure vibrated through him, clear to the soles of his feet.

She was fire in his arms, a breathing, writhing enchantress. The sun beat down on them, burning his back and heating her dark hair, fueling the already raging fire between them. She ground against him again, increasing the friction. If he didn't get inside her soon, he was going to lose it right there. With rough hands, he stilled her hips.

His mouth trailed kisses along her cheek and throat, and with a deep breath, he took in her scent, all nature and wild and free. His lips found her nipple, tugging on the bead. His free hand trailed under her firm ass. His fingers found her wet, hot center, making her hips buck against his cock and pushing him closer to the edge. Getting a woman hot and bothered was nothing new, but this was Violet. Wild. Forbidden. Somehow that made it astounding. He slid his finger all around her swollen nub, wringing a cry from her lips.

He had skills, magickal ones, too, but she flew apart before he had the chance to use them. He rode her through the tempest, touching and stroking in a way that maximized her pleasure. She arched and screamed, held him, no,
hugged
him close. Her head rested against his shoulder as she caught her breath.

Then her whole body tightened in a different way. “Oh, my gods, what are we
doing
?”

“Well, I just made you come and—”

She slid to her feet and stumbled back, grabbing up the shirt. “No, I mean, what are we doing? This is—”

“Crazy. Insane.” He raked his fingers back through his hair. “And amazing.” He still had a raging hard-on, and his body fairly thrummed with the need for release, but what…the…hell?

“No, let's stick to the crazy insane part.” She pulled on the shirt, shock in her eyes. “If my brothers had come up on us…”

“That would have been awkward.”

“Awkward? They would have killed you.”

Dragon Mine

Dragon Rising

Dragon Awakened

Magic Possessed

“Awesome…not to be missed…a quick, sexy read!”

—MyBookAddictionReviews.com

“It's just a quick taste of what's to come with the series but it was fun, satisfying, and has me ready for more…This one is worth the read if you love paranormal romance and just want a quick dragon fix.”

—HerdingCats-BurningSoup.com

“The lighthearted approach to the dark paranormal world won me over…I liked the humor, I liked the love rediscovered story line, and I just plain liked the story!”

—TheWindowSeat13.com

“A great novella to begin things…I cannot wait for the rest of this series…Full of vivid imagination, emotional growth, and challenging battles both physical and magical,
Dragon Mine
is a must read.”

—RomanceWitchReviews.blogspot.com

“A fast-paced paranormal romance, full of danger, mystery, and smoking hot romance…I'm completely hooked on this series and I'm looking forward to the first full length novel.”

—ReadinginPajamas.wordpress.com

“Oh this little novella was the perfect blend of adventure, intrigue, and romance…there is tension from the very beginning between the two and this is one of the beautiful things about this read.”

—BittenbyLoveReviews.com

“It's masterfully written and full of twists and turns…I'm really looking forward to what's next in the Hidden series and can't wait to learn more about this magical world.”

—RomanceWitchReviews.blogspot.com

Dear Reader,

  

People ask me all the time, “What do you like about writing romantic suspense?” It's a great question, and it always seems like sort of a copout to say, “Everything!” But it's true. Writing novels is the greatest job in the world. And romantic suspense, in particular, allows my favorite elements to exist in a single story: adventure, danger, thrills, chills, romance, and the gratifying knowledge that good will triumph over evil and love will win the day.

Weaving all those elements together is, for me, a labor of love. I love being able to work with something straight from my own mind, without having to footnote and document sources all the time. (In my other career—academia—they frown upon letting the voices in my head do the writing!) I love the flexibility of where and when I can indulge myself in a story—the deck, the kitchen island, the car, the beach, and any number of recliners are my favorite “offices.” I love seeing the stories unfold, being surprised by the twists and turns they take, and ultimately coming across them in their finished forms on the bookstore shelves. I love hearing from readers and being privy to their take on the story line or a character. I love meeting other writers and hobnobbing with the huge network of readers and writers out there who still love romantic suspense.

And I
love
getting to know new characters. I don't create these people; they already exist when a story begins and it becomes my job to reveal them. I just go along for the ride as they play out their roles, and I'm repeatedly surprised and delighted by what they prove to be. And it never fails: I always fall in love.

Luke Mann, the hero in WHERE EVIL WAITS, was one of the most intriguing characters I have met and he turned out to be one of my all-time favorites. He first appeared in his brother's book,
Where Angels Rest
, so I knew his hometown, his upbringing, his parents, and his siblings. But Luke himself came to me shrouded in shadows. I couldn't wait to write his story; he was dark and fascinating and intense (not to mention gorgeous) and I knew from the start that his adventure would be a whirlwind ride. When I put him in an alley with his soon-to-be heroine, Kara Chandler—who shocked both Luke and me with a boldness I hadn't expected—I fell in love with both of them. From that point on, WHERE EVIL WAITS was off and running, as Luke and Kara tried to elude and capture a killer as twisted and dangerous as the barbed wire that was his trademark.

The time Luke and Kara spend together is brief, but jam-packed with action, heat, and, ultimately, affection. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  

Happy Reading!

Dear People Pets—Oops, sorry—I meant, Dear Readers,

  

Ever wonder what's like to be God of the Sun, Ruler of the House of Gods, and the only deity against procreation with humans (an act against nature)?

Nah. Me neither. I want to know what it's like to be his girlfriend. After all, how many guys house the power of the sun inside their seven-foot frames? And that hair. Long thick ribbons of sun-streaked caramel. And those muscles. Not an ounce of fat to be found on that insanely ripped body. As for the… eh-hem, the
performance
part, well, I'd like to know all about that, too.

Actually, so would Penelope. Especially after spending the evening with him, sipping champagne in his hotel room, and then waking up buck naked. Yes. In his bed. And yes, he's naked, too. Yeah, she'd love to remember what happened. He wouldn't mind, either.

But it seems that the only one who might know anything is Cimil, Goddess of the Underworld, instigator of all things naughty, and she's nowhere to be found. I guess Kinich and Penelope will have to figure this out for themselves. So what will be the consequence of breaking these “rules” of nature Kinich fears so much? Perhaps the price will be Penelope's life. But perhaps, just maybe, the price will be his…

  

Happy Reading!

Dear Reader,

  

One of the pluses of writing the Tallgrass series was one I didn't anticipate until I was neck-deep in the process, but it's been a great one: unearthing old memories. Our Navy career was filled with laugh-out-loud moments, but there were also plenty of the laugh-or-you'll-cry moments, too. We did a lot of laughing. Most of our tears were reserved for later.

Like our very first move to South Carolina, when the movers lost our furniture for weeks, and the day after it was finally delivered, my husband got orders to Alabama. On our second move, the delivery guys perfected their truck-unloading routine: three boxes into the apartment, one box into the front of their truck. (Fortunately, Bob had perfected his watch-the-unloaders routine and recovered it all.)

For our first apartment move-out inspection, we had scrubbed ourselves to nubbins all through the night. The manager did the walk-through, commented on how impeccably clean everything was, and offered me the paperwork to sign. I signed it, turned around to hand it to her, and walked into the low-hanging chandelier where the dining table used to sit, breaking a bulb with my head. Silently she took back the papers, thumbed through to the deduction sheet, and charged us sixty cents for a new bulb.

There's something about being told my Oklahoma accent is funny by multi-generation Americans with accents so heavy that I just guessed at the context of our conversations. Or hearing our two-year-old Oklahomaborn son, home for Christmas, proudly singing, “Jaaangle baaaa-ulllz! Jaaan-gle baaaa-ulllz! Jaaan-gle
alllll
the waaay-uh!”

Bob and I still trade stories.
Remember when we did that self-move to San Diego and the brakes went out on the rental truck in 5:00 traffic in Memphis at the start of a holiday weekend? Remember that pumpkin pie on the first Thanksgiving we couldn't go home—the one I forgot to put the spices in? Remember dropping the kiddo off at the base day care while we got groceries and having to pay the grand sum of fifty cents two hours later? How about when you had to report to the commanding general for joint-service duty at Fort Gordon and we couldn't find your Dixie cup anywhere in the truck crammed with boxes—and at an Army post, no less, that didn't stock Navy uniforms?

Sea life was great. We watched ships leaving and, months later, come home again. On one homecoming, the kiddo and I watched Daddy's ship run aground. We learned that all sailors look alike when they're dressed in the same uniform and seen from a distance. We spied submarines stealthing out of their bases and toured warships—American, British, French, Canadian—and even got to board one of our own nuclear subs for a private look around.

The Navy gave us a lot to remember and a lot to learn. (Example: all those birthdays and anniversaries Bob missed didn't mean a thing. It was the fact that he came home that mattered.) I still have a few dried petals from the flowers given to me by the command each time Bob reenlisted, as well the ones I got when he retired. We have a flag, like the one each of the widows in Tallgrass received, and a display box of medals and ribbons, but filled with much happier memories.

I can't wait to see which old
remember when
the next book in this series brings us! I hope you love reading A MAN TO ON HOLD TO as much as I loved writing it.

  

Sincerely,

MarilynPappano.com

Twitter@MarilynPappano

Facebook.com/MarilynPappanoFanPage