Grady's Awakening Read online

  He was all she could have imagined and more, and he kissed like a dream. His rhythm was seductive and hypnotic, inciting all her senses as he stroked her with his whole body, making love to her with his mouth.

  She felt coolness on her back as the door opened, but Tim didn’t let go. Instead, a moment later she was enveloped from behind as well as in front, and she knew it was Rafe who’d entered the small room and now sandwiched her between himself and his twin.

  “I came to make sure he was playing nice with you,” Rafe rumbled into her ear as he swept his hands up her ribcage to her breasts and squeezed. “But I see you’re getting along better than I expected. I have only one question.” He tugged at the little buttons holding her robe together, freeing them one by one as Tim moved back obligingly to make room. Before she knew it, she was naked in their arms in the small bathroom. Tim’s mouth moved down her neck as her breath came in harsh pants.

  Rafe held her breasts in his big hands, up and ready for his brother to suck. Tim latched on to one nipple while Rafe plucked at the other with his fingers, his breath hot against her neck.

  “Don’t you want to hear what my question is?” Rafe prompted, making her crane her neck to try to see him.

  “What?”

  Rafe smiled as he bent forward to capture her lips with his. He kissed her long and hard, zeroing in on her tongue, worshipping at her lips with a hunger she’d felt only once before—from his twin. When Rafe let her up for air, it was only to allow Tim to switch over and torment her other breast with his lips, teeth and downright sinful tongue.

  “I was going to ask if you planned to do this without me,” Rafe teased, biting her neck with nipping teeth, “but the question is now moot.”

  Love—it’s the real thing. And complicated as hell…

  The Egyptian Demon’s Keeper

  © 2009 Ciar Cullen

  Archeologist Eliza Schneider assumes her meeting with an exotic stranger in the Egyptian desert was a heat-induced hallucination…until he materializes in New York. She has to give the tall, handsome Egyptian high marks for originality with his pick-up line: they’re fated to save the world together. The master/servant thing goes a long way toward sweeping her off her feet, but it’s easier to believe he’s just another in her long line of poor romantic choices.

  Kasdeya, the Fifth Satan, waited eons for his Keeper to find her way to his tomb amongst the ancient ruins. He only has a limited time to convince Eliza that her role is critical to help defeat the loathsome Deumos, a female demon who has laid her claim to bearing his child—a child that will bring down mortals.

  Trouble is, Eliza doesn’t even believe Kasdeya is real. If he can’t convince her he isn’t an illusion—and neither is their love—Deumos will win.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Egyptian Demon’s Keeper:

  Eliza opened one eye and gulped back a scream. If she was asleep, then the dream was astounding. She wiggled her toes to make sure she wasn’t in sleep paralysis.

  That man was humming. He was two feet away from her, staring at his palms as if a secret message were about to appear on his skin, and humming.

  Okay, she thought, this is pretty bad. Unless the laws of physics had suddenly changed and rain could defy gravity, she had lost her mind, and this guy seemed a permanent part of her new psychosis. At least he was beautiful. Eliza hoped fervently that if she had to remain mad, he would continue to be part of her altered state.

  “You hear about sunstroke killing people, you know, but you never hear about this stuff.”

  He jumped to his feet and stared down at her, running his hand through his long black locks. “I was meditating. You…”

  “I frightened you?”

  His cheeks reddened, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Of course not. Mortals cannot frighten me.” He crossed his arms and puffed out his chest, as if the stance would somehow convince her that she hadn’t startled him.

  “Mortals? Did you say mortals? As opposed to…non-mortals?”

  “Correct.” He tapped his foot in a very mortal gesture of impatience.

  “This just gets better and better. Okie dokie then. I know I’m supposed to be your keeper or servant or something—isn’t that what you told me in Egypt? Excuse me, should that be ‘the land of pharaohs’?”

  “Correct. You are my Keeper, my servant, and it is the land of pharaohs. I’m pleased you listened.”

  “Great. I’m dying to please my own hallucination. Would my hallucination mind getting me some water?” I have to try to pull it together. What if this is a real guy, and he drugged you? Come on, the door is close enough. Please, God, please let my legs work.

  He gestured to the ornate decanter and glass on the low table. The smirk pulling on his lips ticked her off. So, he knew she meant to make a break for it.

  “I will pour for you of course.” He handed her a glass, and she pushed herself up so she could sip. Mind racing, coming up blank, she concentrated on clearing her head with the water. She stole glances at him, but his expression was impassive. What does a serial killer look like anyway? Why couldn’t one look like a soap opera star? An Egyptian soap opera star? Did they have soap operas in Egypt? I’m in real trouble, no matter how I look at this.

  “Look, if it’s money you’re after, you picked the wrong girl. Maybe the museum would belly up a few thousand for me… Did you drug me? That’s it, isn’t it? You got to my canteen in Egypt…”

  “And then miraculously found you in New York, slipped unnoticed into your office or apartment and put a poison potion in your glass?”

  She shook her head uncertainly. It didn’t explain the raindrops, the change in his appearance from Dr. Kasey Smith to Kasdeya. Nothing was adding up.

  “So, you don’t really know David, and you don’t really work for the museum in Boston.”

  “What gave me away?” He smiled fully for the first time, his eyes coming to life and gentle creases appearing around them.

  Eliza refilled her water glass in a half-hearted attempt to stall. No matter how hard she thought about it, she could only come to one conclusion. The Egyptian desert had robbed her of sanity. Perhaps she was already in an institution and didn’t know it?

  “Where are we?” She glanced around the large room, what seemed like part of a larger suite. “Are we in New York?” The ornate furnishings smacked of something from an Arabian Nights tale, but with modern amenities. “It has that flying carpet thing going on.”

  “Not that again.” His smile faded, and he rubbed at his temples.

  “Sorry. I’m known to give people headaches. Do demons get headaches?”

  Kasdeya took a deep breath and blew it out. Eliza knew that move. She’d watched her mother, David and just about everyone else in her life do it many times.

  “Is the room to your liking? I thought you would feel comfortable with these…things.” He gestured to the furniture uncertainly as if he had carved the intricate woodwork himself and was concerned for her approval. The Fifth Satan was a complicated guy—big, buff, dangerous, easily startled and oddly ill at ease. Did he need something from her? Perhaps he didn’t hold all the cards.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Are. We. In. New. York?”

  “More or less. Would you like to be in New York?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then we are.”

  A mild tremor rolled through the suite. An earthquake in New York?

  “Did you do that?”

  He cocked his head to one side and studied her. “I thought you said you wanted to be in New York. Well, we’re here. Or there. You are a very confused woman, and you’re beginning to confuse me.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what the fuck is going on, Mr. Kasdeya? And if you tell me not to curse, I’ll…I’ll curse again.”

  “I will warn you that some of the answers you seek may come as a bit of a shock.”

  “As opposed to rain stopping in midair? Try me.”

  The last thing
Eliza expected was for her captor to strip off his black T-shirt. “Dude, there’s no need for that!” Surely he wasn’t going to accost her? He shook his head subtly, as if he read her thought and wanted to ease her mind. “Look at me.”

  “I’m looking.” She couldn’t take her eyes off him if she tried. Like an artist had wrapped a masterpiece of sculpture with velvety skin and breathed life into it, Kasdeya was exquisite. He moved his arm to point at the band of golden script that circled one bicep, and his stomach rippled, down to the ridges of muscles framing his slender hips.

  “When was the last time you saw a man without a shirt, Eliza? I’m pointing to my arm. Look at it.” She glanced at his face instead. His smirk of satisfaction annoyed her.

  “Oh, so big deal, you’re gorgeous. Get over yourself. All right, let me see your damned arm. I noticed that in pharaoh land. Skip the mumbo jumbo and tell me what it says and why I should care.”

  “I don’t know what it says. You’re supposed to tell me. You’re my Keeper.”

  “What the hell does that mean anyway? Like a zookeeper? When’s your feeding time? Damn, my head is killing me again.”

  “You’re probably hungry. Come, let us dine and we can discuss things casually.”

  “Oh, lovely, yes, let’s have a nice little chat over dinner. A night out on the town? Perhaps drinks first?”

  “That sarcasm does not suit you. You will want to freshen up of course.”

  Her destiny—destroy the world. Whether she wants to or not.

  Calling the Wild

  © 2009 Lila Dubois

  Moira doesn’t know who’s hunting her, but she knows why. In her youth she unleashed a deadly force that killed everything within range—a strange power she has vowed never to use again.

  Needing protection, she risks a bit of the old magic to call for backup. She gets more than she asks for. A lot more. A proud, sexually magnetic, enraged centaur who’s far from a quiet, obedient servant.

  Kiron at first tries to intimidate the witch into freeing him, but she possesses more backbone than the average human. When she’s attacked again, he realizes she’s not a real witch. In fact, she’s not even human. And the sparks flying between them have nothing to do with the magical shackles that bind them together.

  Curiosity grows to admiration, then to a love that in the end may not be enough to protect her. Moira’s enemies are closing in, intending to harness her power to restore a dark kingdom that has lain dormant for a thousand years.

  There’s only one, heart-wrenching way out—give herself over to the full extent of her powers hoping that her true destiny lies with Kiron, and not in fulfilling a prophecy of death…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Calling the Wild:

  Kiron traced his fingers over the cut. “Who did this?”

  “I did. I let it happen.”

  “Why?”

  “I needed information and paid in blood.”

  “That is dangerous.”

  “Everything about my life is dangerous.”

  Kiron bent low to examine her, his thumb tracing over line of the cut. Within the confines of her corset, Moira’s nipple beaded.

  “We need to leave,” she whispered.

  Though it was true that they needed to get away from the club, Moira was using it as an excuse. Away from the pulsing lights and music, what they’d done seemed like a terrible idea. She didn’t know enough about centaurs to know if it has meant anything to him. She had some vague memories from Greek art and archaeology classes that the centaurs were known for their lust. Lust for drink, lust for battle and lust for women. If that meant that what had happened inside meant nothing to him, she would deal with it. What would be a problem, would be if she let what happened mean too much to her.

  “Open the back,” he said, stepping away from her. Her breast felt cold without his fingers.

  “Why? You can ride in the cab.”

  “I will not wear this weak human form any longer.” He stood back and spread his arms, lips pulled back in a sneer. Moira looked him over. He was tall as a human, over six feet. His upper body had the same muscular build, and his legs were thickly muscled also. She knew they were, because she could see the muscle definition in his thighs through his pants. Speaking of his pants… Moira looked him up and down.

  The hilarity of her mythical centaur dressed in black PVC pants and a poet shirt hit Moira.

  “Where did you get that outfit?” she asked on a giggle.

  “I watched a man come out of the club wearing this and replicated it. He also had on a long red coat, but it was too hot so I discarded it.”

  “Too bad about the coat. I would have paid good money to see you in it.”

  “I look stupid.”

  “No, I’m sure all the other badass centaurs wear frilly shirts.”

  “Are you laughing at me, witch?”

  “Laugh or cry, those are the options.”

  White sparks spilled over him, growing until he was concealed by a waterfall of white. The sparks dimmed and cleared, the few stragglers blown away by the breeze that danced through the parking lot.

  Kiron stood before her, a centaur once more. He even had the sword on his back.

  “Where did the sword go when you changed?”

  “I brought it into me, made it a piece of me.”

  “You can do that? How?”

  “I will show you when we get back to that messy place.”

  Moira swallowed her questions about his magic and moved to the back of the truck to open the door and pull down the ramp. Looking around nervously, she waited until the lot was clear and then waved him in.

  Kiron thundered up the ramp, the ring of his hooves on the metal ramp as loud as gunshots. Wincing, Moira slid the ramp into place and grabbed the door.

  Kiron had finished turning around, though this time she had no sympathy for his cramped posture as she knew he could make himself more comfortable.

  “Food,” he said unexpectedly.

  “What about it?” Moira jumped on the bumper to grab the door.

  “I do not know how often humans need to eat, but I am hungry.”

  “Oh, right. Do you like burgers? Do you know what they are?”

  “Yes, I do like burgers. Order me four.”

  “Four burgers. Check.”

  Moira closed the other door and bolted it in place, before racing to the front of the van and hauling herself up into the cabin.

  With a final look at the club, she put the van in gear and pulled away.

  Samhain Publishing, Ltd. It’s all about the story…

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