Deep Dark Secret (32 page)

He’d seen enough courtesans crazed with their drug of choice not to recognize her symptoms. She’d purged her stomach across his lap, then curled up against his chest and slept as if she hadn’t closed her eyes in all the time he’d been gone. Other memories drifted into his conscience, but he choked them, stuffed them back into the hellish box where they belonged.

On good days, he nursed a five-year gap in his memory. He craved the fuzzy edges of his recollection. It was how he kept his anger with Emma in check. The urge to throttle her for being so reckless simmered below his skin. He could have lost her. Regret churned. He’d lost her anyway.

“I’m heading out.” This oasis Emma had carved out of the city’s heart boasted a small garden. It wasn’t much, but even two extra steps in either direction would help ground him.

“Okay.” Dillon stood. “Let’s go.”

Harper’s skull ached, shoulders burning where his wings were hidden. “I’d rather go alone.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’ll be in the garden.” He shrugged. “I need to stretch my wings for a while.”

“You get a half hour. After that, I’m coming for you.” Dillon folded his arms across his chest. “You’re a target in this city. Remember it’s not just the mine and the colony at risk. It’s you too. You control distribution. Nobles won’t like that. Raiders already don’t like it.”

He was right. “I know.” Harper opened the door, then slid through it, careful not to wake boarders in the adjoining rooms. He’d counted seven males and one female at dinner. Emma had a full house and expected a mated pair’s return. He spotted her bedroom turned office and picked up his pace. Too late, her fresh scent teased his nose. Four long strides later, he reached the back door, shoved through it and inhaled deeply of the night. Spice from the nearby markets stung his nose. The familiar smell and sounds of horses carried. Over everything, he all but tasted Emma.

“Definitely Hell.” He shivered as his glamour dropped. His wings flexed, stretching kinks from long-denied freedom. Rolling his neck, muscles loosed and bones popped.

“I don’t know.” Emma’s laughter carried on the breeze. “I kind of like it here.”

He spun around and found her sitting on a low chair beside the door with bone needles in hand, a basket of wool at her ankle, knitting. The better part of a throw covered her legs as she worked at the topmost corner. Tightness gripped his skin, stretching his wings out of shape.

“Have a seat.” She gestured toward the seat against the opposite wall with her chin.

“No.” He tried to turn away, but couldn’t. “I came out for a walk.”

She glanced at her hands. “Suit yourself.” Her needles resumed clacking.

She paused to shove hair behind her shoulder. It sprang back, curling under her breastbone. Lines scrunched between her eyes, and her head tilted back and forth as she worked.

“You knit.” Fascination drew him closer. Her calm rhythm soothed his frayed nerves.

“I picked up the habit in the colony.” She shrugged. “It keeps my hands and my head occupied. I’ve done it off and on, made things for Maddie. Now it kind of fills the void, I guess.”

“What you said up there…” he cleared his throat, “…you meant it?”

Her hands slowed. “I kicked the caffeine habit, quit cold turkey once I left Earth.”

“That’s good.” He swallowed sweet relief.

“And in case you’re wondering, I haven’t picked up any new ones.” She pushed a strand of yarn aside. “Well, except this, and it doesn’t count. This is more of a rededication.”

“Fair enough.” He turned away, shook out his wings, stretching until they stung. Glamour was an illusion, but it was a tangible illusion. When he altered his appearance, tucked his wings out of sight, they were plastered to his spine, trapped in a magical cocoon that itched and burned.

Emma gasped. “What happened?” Seconds later, hot hands smoothed down his back.

Every inch of him tingled at her touch. Color drenched his wings, turning their dusky carmine to vibrant crimson. No hiding his arousal in his natural form. He shouldn’t have dropped his glamour. He still didn’t know what she was fussing about— “Damn it.” She poked a finger below his wing joint and pain crashed over him in agonizing waves. “Could you not do that?”

She caught his arm, wheeling him around to face her as she snarled, “Has anyone checked your back?” Her fingers tightened. “Were you in that mine when it exploded?”

“No, I was outside.” His back had been burned, hadn’t it? The pain hadn’t registered until she mentioned it. His wounds weren’t life-threatening, so he blocked it like everything else. The men in the mines mattered. The lone survivor of the caravan required their healer. He didn’t.

“Males.” She didn’t ask permission, just shoved him onto her lounge face-first. Expert hands spread his wings one at a time as delicate fingers inspected every leathered inch. He pushed up when her hands deserted him, but she shoved him down as if he were a child. He’d forgotten how strong she was. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he surrendered to her whims.

The same gentle hands returned, stroking every inch of his back, working over every muscle, pausing to pick debris from his cuts. “You know you’ll get infected if you let something like this go untreated.” She jabbed a nail deep in his shoulder blade, and he grunted. “Those mines are a case of wing rot waiting to happen. Don’t you have a healer?”

“We have two in training,” he defended, “but they were needed elsewhere.”

“Good grief. They were needed
here
.” She stabbed his hip for emphasis. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” The lounge smelled of Emma. He buried his face in the pillow, and a stray hair tickled his nose. Sleep weighted his limbs, and his eyes closed for a moment.

“This is going to burn.” A second later, she slathered icy ointment across his back.

He shivered. Let it burn. This was one pain too delicious to block. Emma’s hands on him, nursing him like she had a thousand times when his protection of Maddie earned him lashes from her father’s whip. Archer had been so consumed with desire for Maddie, he assumed Harper shared the same twisted lust and punished him for her affection. He hadn’t suspected Harper craved only one female, or that Archer’s halfling daughter was the one true light in Harper’s life.

His eyes closed again, and this time he left them shut. If someone had told him he would long for the days of their enslavement, he would have called that person a fool.

Yet here he lay, wishing for a simpler time when his body was a tool to be used, his thoughts dictated by cruel circumstance, but his heart was free. And it had belonged to Emma.

Five years made no difference to him. This year apart made even less. Ten or a hundred more wouldn’t change the sick ache in his bones craving her long-ago touch. He couldn’t love her openly then, either. But she knew she was his. Just as he knew he would always be hers.

He should push her away…but he’d rather have his wicked way with her.

Getting Familiar With Your Demon

(c) 2012 Jodi Redford

That Old Black Magic, Book 4

After too many years learning death from the inside out as the familiar of a voodoo queen, soul collector Samael Gorasola betrayed his boss, which landed him on demon death row.

He should have known not even his punishment would come easy, but the deal he’s offered to escape his fate stinks. Become the indentured servant to his despised enemy? No thanks, he’d rather be six feet under. With that in mind, he picks a deadly fight with two demon hunters, only to be rescued by one misguided, deliciously innocent white witch.

Marabella hasn’t a clue what possessed her to help Sam, particularly since he’s not the least bit grateful. She blames it on her overwhelming attraction to the dark, dangerous demon, and her exasperating quest to rid herself of the stubborn curse that guards her virginity. If the guild finds out, though, she can kiss her white-witch status goodbye.

A kiss is exactly what she gets, followed by a consuming hunger that breaks down all heavenly and earthly barriers…and leaves Sam saddled with the one thing he never wanted, a
conscience
, and a connection to Marabella that puts her soul on the line.

Warning: This book contains torturous use of disco music, one sinfully sexy demon who revels in being bad, a virgin witch whose innocence runs more than skin deep, and plenty of wicked, forbidden sex with explosive side effects—literally.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Getting Familiar With Your Demon:

I can’t believe I’m going through with this.
Even if she really wasn’t. But in the end, she still had to endure an evening with a demon who possessed a caveman mentality and a one-track mind. A demon she just happened to have a raging case of horniness for.

Yeah, this couldn’t end badly. Not at all.

Dragging in a shaky breath, Marabella pulled into the parking garage down from Bella’s Boutique and cut the engine. She removed the keys from the ignition and prayed Sam wouldn’t comment on the constant jingling the keys made as they dangled from her trembling fingers. He joined her outside the vehicle, and after crossing the deserted boulevard, they walked the short distance to her storefront.

She attempted to jam the key into the lock, but her overworked nerves made the task impossible. Without saying a word, Sam gently nudged her aside and freed the bolt. She didn’t fail to notice the sardonic tilt of his mouth as she muttered a “Thanks” and pushed past him. The tumblers clicked, announcing Sam had secured the lock. She reached for the light switch, but he took her hand and led her away from the door. Her heart beating a chaotic mambo, she trailed along, trying not to focus on the fact he seemed to have a definite destination in mind. They pulled to a stop in the entry leading to the French Bohemian bedroom tableau, and her pulse ratcheted up several notches. She stared at the daybed before jerking her gaze to Sam. Immense heat simmered in his sin-filled eyes.

She blurted the first thing that popped into her mind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of her more intelligent responses. “The bed is only for display.”

Another flash of sardonic humor flickered across Sam’s face. “What kind of saleswoman would you be if you didn’t test out the merchandise?”

“I…” Ah damn. Her tongue-tied state increased a thousandfold when Sam’s hands planted on either side of her head, effectively boxing her against the wall. The way he was looking at her—as if he were mentally devouring her—caused her pulse to stutter. Sure, there’d been plenty of men who’d gazed at her with lust before the curse ultimately knocked them on their asses. Even so, those occasions didn’t hold a candle to the barely restrained hunger riding Sam’s gorgeous features.

She licked her lips and watched his pupils dilate as he tracked the motion of her tongue. “I—I don’t know.” She winced at her breathless stammer, feeling worse than a gawky moron.

Sam’s head descended until they were practically nose to nose. She stared into his eyes, mesmerized by the intensity in their depths. His irises were so dark, she’d at first assumed they were completely black, but up close, she saw they were actually a deep midnight blue.

“We can’t have you selling a bed you haven’t stamped a personal testimony on. What if the springs squeak?” His whiskey-smooth voice held an unmistakable hint of tease.

Before her brain produced a not entirely idiotic response, Sam’s mouth claimed hers. The same electric jolt of desire and apprehension she’d experienced in the ballroom slammed into her with renewed force. A moan slipped free before she could cage it. The sound must have encouraged Sam, because he re-angled his approach, his tongue delving past her lips as if it had every right to do so. She truly wished with every fiber in her being that it didn’t, but the heady pleasure Sam was delivering told a different story.

As if her arms possessed a will of their own, they circled his neck, her fingers threading through the thick softness of his hair. A part of her screamed in warning, reminding her she wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this. It was one thing to convince Sam she wanted to rip his clothes off and have her wicked way with him. She wasn’t supposed to actually
want
to do it.

It proved nearly impossible to keep that thought on track as Sam’s tongue glided along hers. Retreating slightly, he explored the edges of her teeth before he sucked on her bottom lip and started his lush oral treatment all over again. By the time he pulled back, her mouth felt swollen and thoroughly ravished. Her breath puffed in shallow, staccato bursts, and the soaked crotch of her panties clung to her throbbing flesh in damning proof of her insatiable desire for him.

Passion and fear warred inside her. She wanted—no,
craved
—the wet, slick rasp of Sam’s tongue on her everywhere. Her mouth, her breasts and painfully hard nipples. Her pussy. Oh goddess. She especially hungered to feel him there. And that was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Sam’s mouth abandoned hers and slid to the slope of her neck. His beard scruff tickled her skin, inciting a host of goose bumps. He scored his teeth along the pulse point beneath her ear before sucking the tender spot. A responding beat echoed in her clit, and she whimpered. Without warning he swept her into his arms. She clung to him, as much startled by the action as his obvious strength.

Before she even thought to protest, Sam strode the short distance to the daybed and tossed her into the middle of it. Decorative throw pillows tumbled to the ground as he stretched over her. Their bodies aligned in the most delicious way. She struggled to ignore that reality, but Sam seemed determined to prove exactly how traitorous her body could be. He cupped her breasts through the flimsy fabric of her Greek goddess gown, and she arched into him, her nipples obediently pebbling under his touch. His husky chuckle mocked her. Swirling his tongue in the sensitive hollow beneath her ear, he rolled his fingertips over her nipples. She nearly shot out of her skin.

“You’re incredibly responsive considering I haven’t even gotten you naked yet.” There was no mistaking the intent in his voice. Giving a low, sexy growl, he bunched the skirt of her costume in his hands and whisked it upward. Before she’d snapped to her senses, he’d tugged the dress completely off her, leaving her with only a skimpy G-string and matching bra to hide her from his hot, hungry gaze.