Slayer's Kiss: Shadow Slayer, Book 1 (34 page)

“No, I’m sorry.” She slowly shook her head. “I know how you’ve suffered. You lost two brothers that day.”

“I did. But you should know that I don’t blame you, Kara. I never did. I blame myself for not seeing Gable’s madness sooner. Everything that happened is my fault. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t protect Julian. I failed the two people I love the most.”

Kara glanced up at him. His gray wings had a metallic sheen in the morning sun. It was breathtaking. She wanted to trace a finger along the smooth, silky planes. “You can’t carry the weight of the world, Gavin. Even you aren’t that strong.”

“These past months have shown me just how weak I am.” His eyes reflected his turmoil, and Kara could swear she felt his conflicted emotions swirling in the air around them. “I have two things to tell you. I need to say this, princess, and you need to listen carefully.”

“Okay.” She swallowed and clasped her hands together so he wouldn’t see her shaking. It was hard to be a bad-ass when he looked as if the fate of the world were hanging in the balance.

“The first is that Aiden and I have been sensing…
something
from Julian’s grave. At first I dismissed it because it came to me in dreams, but now the energy is almost constant. It’s dark and it’s in pain.”

“Are you sure?” She turned to look at his headstone. “Julian, in pain?”

“Yes. Aiden has begun ceremonies each night to restore Julian’s powers to him. The curse he bound to protect us needs to be released.”

Her eyes welled. Nothing mattered but one thing. “He’s really coming back?”

He shifted into a wider stance and nodded. “I’ve never heard of a demibreed healing from such a grievous injury, but it seems he is.”

“And it hurts?”

Gavin flinched. “Yes, princess.” He glanced at Julian’s grave. “The process may be long, and it’s most assuredly painful.”

Kara focused on breathing. She was feeling lightheaded and she wasn’t sure if it was because Julian was actually regenerating, or if it was because he was going through hell to do it.

She shook her head, casting aside her doubts and fears. “I know he can do it. And we’ll be here for him when he comes through.”

“Yes.
We
,” he said carefully. “That’s the second thing.”

Kara looked up into his eyes. Her breathing slowed.

“Forgive me for standing on my brother’s grave and saying this to you, but when I learned you were released from his claim, my heart rejoiced.”

She put her fingers to his lips. “Gavin—”

He took her hands in his. “I lost you once because I was too concerned with what was right for the clan. I can’t lose you again.”

“What are you saying?”

“I realize you love my brother. All I’m asking is for a place by your side. If Julian pulls through—
when
he pulls through—you can make your decision if you have room for us both.”

“Gavin, you’re talking about breaking the law!”

He laughed. “I made the law.”

Hope began to bloom in her heart like the first bud after a long winter. With his fingers in hers, she squeezed gently, wanting him to know she was serious. “That’s a decision Julian would need to be part of.”

“I understand. But I know one thing, he wants you to be happy above all else. And I believe I can make you happy.”

“What if that day comes and friendship is all I can offer you?”

He looked deep into her eyes and smiled. “Then we will be the best of friends. Either way, I love you, Kara, and going on without you in my life is no longer an option.”

She could barely speak. To learn Julian was going to be all right and at the same time hear the earnestness in Gavin’s voice, it was too much for her.

“Are you crying?” he asked.

Kara snorted and blinked away the moisture in her eyes. “I don’t cry. You know that.”

He chuckled. “Ah, yes. I remember.”

“You really think that we could get past everything we’ve been through? That when Julian comes back we can figure out a way to make this work?”

He stepped forward and took her in his arms, pressing her temple to his shoulder as he breathed into her hair. “I want to try, if you do.”

She inhaled his heady scent and felt his warm skin beneath her cheek. Being in Gavin’s arms again was like waking from a bad dream and realizing the phantoms couldn’t touch her now.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

About the Author

Cassi Carver lives in sunny Southern California with two dogs, four kids and a hubby who gives great massages. She gets to the Gaslamp for research (okay, happy hour) as often as possible. She’s never saved the world, but she keeps sexy boots on hand just in case the opportunity arises.

Twitter:
@CassiCarver

Facebook: Cassi Carver

Website:
www.cassicarver.com

E-mail:
[email protected]

For an innocent man, she’ll go to her grave. Again.

Incarnate

© 2011 A.C. Ruttan

The Portal Keepers, Book 1

Cia is serving her sentence in the Canadian Arctic, guarding one of the many portals that seal off Earth from Heaven and Hell. She doesn’t mind the cold. What she does mind? Someone’s bumping off other Incarnates, the dual-souled beings who hold the Apocalypse at bay. And she’s next on the list.

Worse, she learns the prime suspect is Arthur, her ex. Arthur is many things, but despite their history, he’s no murderer. Cia has only thirty days to find him and prove it before the Wrath is unleashed to mete out justice.It’s no relief when he shows up in her truck’s headlights on the side of the ice road. He stirs turmoil between her volatile old soul and the younger one that keeps it in line. Worse, he shows all the signs of turning into a demon.

The closer they get to Yellowknife, the more rogue demons pour out of Hell, dragging with them a past she thought would never haunt her again. Another murder, and the elders prepare to summon the Wrath ahead of schedule. A move that will, literally, let all Hell break loose. Unless Cia makes a soul-tearing choice.

Warning: Ice, frigid temperatures, lots of Poutine consuming and a mention of blubber. Many demons were harmed in the writing of this book, but the polar bear really is okay.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Incarnate:

Those were scary times. The Elders were constantly in mediation and there was chatter of the end of days. Agency cover-up artists disguised it as Y2K. Brilliant, and it worked, but lately there had been talk about the Mayan calendar and the end of days again.

Perhaps Henry was gaining power again and would try to take over the world like he had ten years earlier. Only this time he was going to get rid of the one Guard who had previously stood in his way.

Me.

“So how do you stop a demon prince, then? If he’s truly indestructible, how do you get rid of one?”

“You send him back to Hell through a portal.” A frown creased his brow. “Of course, whoever accomplishes the task usually forfeits their own life and is dragged to Hell with the prince, since to keep him from coming back, the Guardian has to destroy their portal and thus kill themselves in the process. Kind of like a sacrifice.”

“Wouldn’t he just go to another portal?”

“No, because each portal opens up into a different part of Hell, and a demon prince can’t encroach on another prince’s realm. Demon princes are very territorial. They can only pass through a portal that connects to their realm in Hell, and since we have no way of knowing which portal connects to which territory, it makes them undetectable and hard to track. It makes them seem like they can pop out anywhere.”

I dropped my head in my hands, my gut twisting in a knot, the headache pounding behind my eyes. I could feel my locket containing the piece of my portal vibrating gently between my breasts, reminding me of my tie to it. Why did I suddenly get the feeling it would be me? Damien’s words haunted me then:
“A blood sacrifice must be given.”

My life was tied to Yellowknife, and the only protection I had was a neophyte or trainee Incarnate, Anne. As if thinking the same thing, Arthur scooted to the side of the bed and reached over to where I was sitting, placing a strong hand on my knee. His hand was warm and reassuring. Without looking at him I placed my hand on top of his and squeezed.

“I am sorry for all of this,” I said. “Sorry Henry is doing this.”

“And I am sorry, Cia. You know I am. I’m sorry I left you. I was a fool.” He picked up my hand and brought my knuckles to his lips, brushing a feather-light kiss across the top. It caused gooseflesh to break out across my skin and sent a delightful zing of pleasure washing through me. This was something more than just lust or an itch to scratch.

He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he pulled me from the chair onto his lap. His skin was still damp and the cheap thin towel was soaked.

“You’re getting my pants wet.”

Arthur cocked an eyebrow, and I blushed, laughing as I remembered “pants” in England were underwear or panties to us in North America. I punched him hard in the shoulder.

“I mean my trousers. The towel has reached its absorbent capacity.”

Arthur looked down, and before I had a chance to avert my eyes or at least escape his grasp and retreat to the safety of my chair, he removed the towel and I got an eyeful of my estranged husband.

Fully aroused.

Flames of desire licked through my body at the sight of him hard for me. On their own accord, acting purely on instinct, my nipples hardened under the thin cotton of my shirt—my body thrumming with awareness at the close proximity of a very naked and turned-on Arthur. Erotic memories flooded through me, my body reliving each exquisite detail of Arthur’s touch.

“
Move, get away from him
,” my rational side screamed at me, but a much stronger voice—which was having free range lately—made the most vocal protests, in ancient Celtic nonetheless. Boudicca wanted Arthur.

No.
We
wanted Arthur.

“No
we
. We are one and of the same accord.”

I bit my lip at the tingling sexual tension between us. The unquenched thirst of lust was thick in the air. It seemed like I had no control of my body, like Boudicca had taken my body hostage. The steadfast, calm side of me no longer had a voice.

My body had been hijacked by a two-thousand-year-old, horny barbarian woman—and I couldn’t be happier to oblige. Snaking my arms around his neck, I trailed my fingers over his shaved head through the coarse stubble which was still damp before placing a lingering kiss on his mouth, surprising him as I playfully sucked on his bottom lip.

“You know I didn’t tell you to remove the towel, but I’m glad you did.”

His strong arms slipped around me, his skin hot and humid from his shower. The heat from his skin permeated through the cotton of my shirt as his hands slid down my back to cup my ass. He growled in appreciation.

“Well then perhaps I should invest in a set of cheap, scratchy small towels if they get you into such a state of excitement,” he whispered against my ear before leaving a trail of nips and kisses down my neck, his tongue swirling in the hollow at the base of my neck.

A sigh slipped past my lips.
He remembered.
That secret spot in the hollow of my throat that made my heart skip a beat, made my sex wet with desire. I turned myself so I was sitting astride him, pressing our bodies closer so I could feel his erection hard between us. Cupping his cheeks I trapped him in a deep kiss—the more aggressive, passionate kiss I had been longing to indulge in. Pushing him down against the mattress I captured his lips again, our tongues intertwining as his hands slipped under my flimsy T-shirt, kneading my aching breasts.

’Tis the season for ho-ho-homicide.

Secret Santa

© 2011 Sierra Dean

Secret McQueen, Book 2.5

It’s the most wonderful time of the year. The season for mistletoe, Christmas lights…and a killing spree. When Secret’s friend, Detective Mercedes Castilla, asks for help to solve a series of murders longer than a string of lights, Secret resigns herself to the fact her holidays will be anything but peaceful.

It seems someone is killing New Yorkers in an unusually gruesome way, and as the bodies pile up faster than presents under the tree, the police are no closer to finding the killer than Secret is to finding the perfect present for one of her boyfriends, Lucas.

Tracking down a monster in Manhattan the week before Christmas is almost as difficult as shopping for her ever-expanding collection of loved ones. When tragedy strikes close to home, Secret must do everything in her power to put an end to the horror in time for Santa to come down the chimney.

Warning: Contains a less than merry McQueen with a sword and a reason to use it; a festive new use for mistletoe; and a promise that will haunt Secret like the Ghost of Christmas Future.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Secret Santa:

Desmond lifted me as though I weighed nothing—which was probably what I felt like to a buff werewolf—and slung me over his shoulder. I wanted to fight, but this angle gave me a fabulous view of his wonderful, toned butt, and I was hard-pressed to find anything wrong with that.

He kicked the door closed behind us, and I watched the apartment slide by as I dangled upside down, a curtain of my blonde curls obscuring most of the view.

“Aren’t you at all curious about the knocking?” I wheezed, the question directed at his tush.

He didn’t stop walking until we were in the bedroom, where he heaved me onto the unmade bed.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, lifting his head and looking around the room.

“Hear what?” I listened closely but heard nothing.

“Nada. Not a damned thing. No knocking.” With his coat on the chair and his tie already loosened, I could tell strange noises were the last thing on Desmond’s mind. Getting to my knees, I fixed him with a serious look.

“What if it was a monster?” My tone was playful, but just saying the word reawakened my guilt. He must have seen the shift in my eyes because he climbed onto the bed and knelt in front of me, cupping my face between his warm, rough hands.