Fire in the Blood (15 page)

She laughed, high and nervous. “You kidnapped me.”

“With good intentions.”

“Well, your good intentions have ruined my life. I was perfectly happy. I owned my own business. I had an offer to show my work in a gallery on an Alliance world. Now all I have left is this dress.” Talena glanced down at herself. “I don’t even like these shoes.”

“I swear I will repay every credit you’ve lost. I’ll make sure you’re set up in a new business on a safe world.”

Talena peered up at him through her pale lashes and his pulse raced. “How can you promise that? You’re a runner.”

Dack smiled grimly. She really must not know anything about Cy’ren society. “I’m much more than that. You can trust me.”

“Cy’ren can’t be trusted,” she said softly.

“Is that why you haven’t chosen a mate?” She looked away, and he knew he was right. Dack shook his head—runners lived hard lives, and gave their people a bad reputation. With little or no education and nowhere to go, runners often became mercenaries, thieves, smugglers and worse.

“How long have you been in phase?” he asked.

“Seven months.”

Dack suddenly felt very sorry for the other males aboard the
Trident
. They must have been going half mad with want of her from the constant scent of her in the air. The months couldn’t have been easy for Talena, either. Females were also affected by the phase, as it dramatically increased their sex drive. “How did you deal with the…urges?” he asked, curious.

“Humans. It’s easy, aboard a cruise ship. There are always men—or women—looking for company during their trip.”

He twitched with a surge of jealousy and took a deep breath to calm himself, but it only made the situation worse as he inhaled. The pheromones created a heady sweetness with a musky edge, custom tailored to tempt any Cy’ren male who caught the scent. Heat prickled across his skin like the burn of a fever, and Dack glanced at the shuttle’s temperature readout and saw it was normal. This sort of heat wouldn’t register on the ship’s instruments. He shrugged off his duster and tossed it on the empty seat next to him. The shoulder holster followed—he didn’t want to appear threatening, and he didn’t want her to make a grab for his pistol and try to shoot him. He rose and moved toward her.

“Don’t,” she warned. Talena shrank back into the corner, hugging her arms to her chest. “I don’t want to be owned by anyone, even a mate.”

Dack paused. “I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t demand you do anything you don’t want to. You’re free to leave once we find a safe place for you.”

“And I have your
word
on that, I suppose?” she said, eyeing him skeptically.

“Yes. I won’t demand that you stay with me if you want to leave.”

Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. It was as close to acceptance as he was likely to get. Dack inched closer and knelt beside her. A slight tremor ran through him as he ached to touch her, but he held his hands still at his sides. Dack’s heart pounded and his hard sex strained against the fly of his pants, but he waited. Most males would take a female in phase without hesitation, but she’d resent him for it after the lust faded. Dack knew what it was to be owned, forced into an unwanted life by someone else, and he would be patient as long as possible.

Though judging by the shudder that ran through his body, his patience wouldn’t last long at all.

“I didn’t get a close look at your shop. You sell your own artwork?” he asked. His voice had dropped an octave, and he cleared his throat.

Talena blinked. She was still wary of him, but the change of subject eased some of the tension from her pinched shoulders. “I carried my own work, but I offered a variety of other items. Souvenirs, mostly. I’m not well-known enough to live on my own art alone.”

“What kind of art?”

“Sculpture. Metalwork. I create organic things out of tech parts, like flowers out of wiring and birds out of gears and circuits. I like turning bits and pieces of broken machines into something new and beautiful.” Her eyes lit up as she discussed her passion, and Dack smiled.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I was old enough to daydream in class about art instead of biology.” Her pale lavender skin darkened with a blush, and his breath caught. Gods, she was beautiful.

“I never went to school, but I daydreamed about spaceships when I was young.” He raised a hand to touch her face, and she tensed. “May I?” he asked. “Please?”

Talena eyed him for a moment before nodding her assent. Dack brushed his fingers across her cheek, his skin tingling at the contact, and then trailed his hand to rest against the unmarked side of her neck. His jaw clenched as he uncoiled her soft white hair from the strict bun that held it, and it fell in thick waves down her back. He wanted to plunge his hands into that hair, pull her head back and claim her mouth, but she stared up at him with wide golden eyes.
Soon, but not yet.

Dack swallowed a growl of desire. “Why don’t you like these shoes? They seem nice.” He placed a hand atop said shoes, and then caressed her bare ankles. Her skin was soft and silken, and she shivered and gasped at his touch. Talena’s gaze softened and her breath quickened as she shifted toward him slightly.

She licked her lips. “They’re comfortable, but they’re not pretty.”

“I hadn’t noticed. I’d rather look at your eyes than your shoes,” he said. She blushed again, smiling shyly, and he leaned in to kiss her as he knelt at her side. Talena was so close that Dack could feel the warmth radiating from her body, but he stopped abruptly before his lips brushed hers. “May I?” he asked again. The words were ground out from behind gritted teeth, but he managed them.

“Yes,” she whispered in reply.

He pounced, and her lips unraveled his control.

All it takes is one weak seam for everything to fall apart

A Patch of Darkness

© 2012 Yolanda Sfetsos

Sierra Fox, Book 1

In a perfect world, Sierra Fox would have stayed away from the Council she left years ago. But in this world—where spirits have the right to walk among the living—it’s her job to round up troublesome spooks and bring them before that very same Council.

Though her desk is piled high with open cases, she can’t resist an anonymous summons to a mysterious late-night meeting with a bunch of other hunters, each of whom seems to have a unique specialty. The news is dire: something is tearing at the fabric of the universe. If the hunters can’t find who or why in time, something’s going to give in a very messy way.

As current cases, family secrets, new clues and her tangled love life slowly wind themselves into an impossible knot, Sierra finds herself the target of a power-sucking duo intent on stealing her mojo. And realizing she holds the key to the last hope of sealing the widening rift.

Warning: Spook catching: may contain traces of ectoplasm and otherworldly nasties. Not recommended for those with allergies to ghosts, demons, and with boyfriends who think your power is theirs. While reading, avoid dark patches and stay to the light.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Patch of Darkness:

It took me longer than I expected to find my way out of the cemetery. I got lost, thanks to several stranded spirits who hounded me even when I pretended I couldn’t see them. Every step managed to get me deeper and deeper into the concrete jumble of the buried dead. With my head filled with a thousand thoughts, I just couldn’t see straight.

In the end, I had to jump the fence because the gates were locked and night had fallen. The 4WD parked in front of my car had left, so it probably did belong to Oren.

I didn’t bother scouting the area to check if someone was following me or not. I was so mentally exhausted that I drove around without any sense of direction for an hour, eventually ending up at the office on pure instinct.

Personal revelations are never a good thing, especially when they come from complete strangers who claim to know you and can successfully hide their true nature.

What the hell was going on with my life?

I’d ruined a potentially wonderful night with my boyfriend so I could meet an old guy with declarations that sounded more like riddles. And I’d almost managed to forget the real reason Oren called me there in the first place. The physical leak in the fibers was puzzling. At least I’d gotten that much from the incident.

As for the statements regarding my power and Grandma, I’d think about them another time. At the moment, I was happy to sit in the dark alone, like a mushroom.

“Are you in here, Fox?”

I switched on the desk lamp when I recognized the voice calling out from behind the office door. “Yeah, come on in, Papan.”

He pushed the door and entered with a smile on his handsome face. “Are you working late again, or were you secretly waiting for me to pop in?” The wink made my stomach flutter, forcing erotic images from the dream I’d had about him to the surface with a rush of heat.

I sucked in a breath. “I wasn’t exactly working.”

“Yeah, right, the workaholic tries to cover her tracks.” Papan laughed and I felt the sound more than heard it. Jason Papan is tall, in his early thirties, with dark blond hair and eyes the strangest shade of green I’ve ever seen. Sometimes they look a mossy green, others hazel, and even a little on the amber side. The shade changes depending on the light, just like Ebony’s choice of nail polish.

“I could say the same about you.”

“Of course you could. But unlike you, I actually have to work extra hours if I want to make ends meet.” He stopped near Ebony’s desk, and I couldn’t look away from the dimple on his left cheek. “And I’m always hoping that you decide to pay me a midnight visit, Foxy Lady.”

I gulped. He likes to call me Fox, or Foxy Lady when he’s feeling flirtatious. I call him Papan, no matter how I’m feeling. Right now, I was feeling a little excited, still recalling bits and pieces of the naughty dream I’d had. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked with a smirk.

Papan fell into the chair usually occupied by Ebony and it squeaked beneath his weight. He stared at me from across the desks with an amused expression. That’s how he always looked at me. “It means that I wouldn’t mind if you paid me a visit wearing nothing but a trench coat and a nice pair of red heels.”

“I don’t wear heels.”

He closed his eyes and sat back. “In my fantasies, you wear heels quite often.”

Heat warmed my face and I was glad we were almost in the dark. What the hell were we doing? As usual, he was teasing me. Though, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to his so-called fantasy.

I cleared my throat. “So, Papan, what are you doing in the office tonight?”

Papan opened his eyes and shrugged. That cheeky grin didn’t leave his lips and cute matching dimples now appeared on each cheek. Did he always have to look so sexy? “Oh, I don’t know, putting in some overtime…and still getting nowhere near as much as you spook catchers get paid. What I earn is peanuts compared to what you guys make per visit.”

“Stop bitching, I know you’ve got clientele.” My insides were quivering. Why was he having this effect on me? Oh, who was I kidding? Papan always made my insides turn to jelly.

“Which reminds me”—Papan took a deep breath, his face hidden by the shadows reflecting in from the windows behind me—“did that lady eventually come to you, a Mrs. Hocking?”

“Yes, thanks for referring her. She’s got some freaky problems. Listen, did you ever uncover anything about this so-called cult she mentioned?” I needed any lead I could get at the moment. I was actually glad Papan had dropped in. At least he’d turned my focus back to something I could deal with—work. He might’ve started with cheekiness, but it looked like we were back on track.

“Ah, I was wondering if she would mention it to you.” He pressed back against the chair, eyes still on mine. “When she approached me, it seemed to be her focal point. She raved on about how these mysterious people brainwashed her husband, stole his identity and eventually his life, but I think the person she should’ve suspected the most was him. He was into some heavy witchcraft. Honestly, you have to get out there, Sierra. All those books and apparatus, I didn’t know what the hell I was looking at. But I
was
able to find out that these people she called a cult are actually something very different.”

“What do you mean?”

Papan leaned forward, elbows on the desk, without breaking eye contact. “Tell me, did your little assistant appear uncomfortable while the Hocking woman was here?”

I shook my head. “Ebony? Nah, why? I mean, she was freaked out by the whole thing, but other than that, no more outrageous than usual.”

“Ah, well. She’s good, I’ll give her that.”

“Papan, spill the beans, you’ve lost me.”

“Look, all I’m trying to say is that maybe you should talk to her about the group that meets in the abandoned church on the corner of Wallace and Trent. I found your assistant there while I was scouting the area.” His eyes were shiny in the dark. They looked a little freaky, almost glowing.

“Are you sure?” It didn’t make sense. What would Ebony be doing down there? And why wouldn’t she tell me about it? She’d had plenty of opportunity after Carleen Hocking left. We’d been alone for several hours. “Did you approach her?”