Hunter's Season: Elder Races, Book 4 (15 page)

His eyebrows rose. In that moment he actually looked haughty. “If you won’t marry me, I won’t keep my guards. End of subject.”

She exploded. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!”

He nudged his horse forward, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. “It is so satisfying to dig underneath that calm façade of yours. I think it has become my second favorite pastime, my most favorite being when we make love, of course.”

He kicked his horse into a canter, and she followed. “Get back here!”

“Darling, it is no use arguing about this any further,” he called over his shoulder. “You know I will do exactly as I say, and Niniane will be so angry at you if I dismiss my guards.”

“Aubrey!” Sending her own horse into a gallop, she caught up with him easily. “You leave Niniane out of this.”

He looked entirely ruthless. “In fact as soon as we return, I plan on telling her how unhappy your refusal makes me. Her sympathies will not lie with you on this, Xanthe. Not when you are free to marry me if you would only choose to do so.”

That struck her into silence, as he had known it would, for as long as Niniane remained the Dark Fae Queen, she and Tiago might be mated but they could never marry. Xanthe fumed and brooded as they rode into a small valley that was dotted with copses of trees crowned with the fiery colors of autumn.

They found the shrine at a crossroads. It was a simple affair, a grotto built of ancient stone beside a bubbling spring. They tethered their horses. Xanthe dug into one of her packs to retrieve the box of Tarot cards which she had wrapped in protective silk. Aubrey held his hand out to her, and she took it. They walked together to the shrine.

It was a peaceful place, silent except for the constant play of water falling over stone, deep with a sense of greening life despite winter’s approach. Others had left offerings before them, a withered bouquet of flowers, fruit that had been nibbled at by wildlife and scattered on the ground, a tiny pair of knitted baby shoes. The sight of those caught at Xanthe, and she blinked back a sudden impulse to tears as she sent up a silent prayer for that unknown baby.

“I want to think that those shoes were left in gratitude for the birth of a new baby,” she said in a husky voice. “And not because some child has passed.”

Aubrey rubbed her back and said gently, “Then that is what we will believe.”

As she glanced at him, he nodded an encouragement to her. She walked over and laid the box in the grotto. The mellow Power of the cards bathed her hands one last time as she let them go.
Thank you
, she said silently to the goddess. Like a chalice, her heart was filled to the brim. She had not known she could hold so much emotion.

In this quiet, eternal place, her arguments against marriage seemed superfluous, especially since she was arguing against her own wishes. She turned to Aubrey. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

His face lit with triumph and joy. “I knew it,” he said. He pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t be insufferable about it,” she told him, smiling. She laid her head on his shoulder.

He held her, his face buried in her hair. “You are the love of my life,” he whispered. “That means I get to be as insufferable as I like.”

“Oh, is that what it means?” She laughed and he chuckled too. She turned her face into his neck, her arms wrapped around his waist.

They stood together for a while as peace soaked into their bones. Then Aubrey kissed her temple. “Are you ready to start back?”

“Yes.” She pulled away, glanced at the shrine—and froze as her world tilted.

The silk wrapped box had vanished.

She managed to whisper, “Aubrey.”

“What?” He followed the direction of her gaze and stood very still, his expression sharp with wonder. “I’ll be damned. It was hers.”

“I thought—I mean, I guess I didn’t really think it was true. Like you said, the chances of it were outrageously rare.” She felt like she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to stop. “What do you suppose will happen to it now?”

“She’ll cast it into the world someplace else,” Aubrey said. “Who knows when, or where?”

Xanthe smiled. “How lovely.”

About the Author

Thea Harrison resides in northern California. She wrote her first book, a romance, when she was nineteen and had sixteen romances published under the name Amanda Carpenter.

She took a break from writing to collect a couple of graduate degrees and a grown child. Her graduate degrees are in Philanthropic Studies and Library Information Science, but her first love has always been writing fiction. She's back with her paranormal Elder Races series. You can check out her website at:
www.theaharrison.com
, and also follow her on Twitter
@TheaHarrison
and on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/TheaHarrison
.

Look for these titles by Thea Harrison

Now Available:

Novellas of the Elder Races

True Colors

Natural Evil

Devil’s Gate

Desire is the raw material. Lust is the spark…and love will sculpt their destiny.

Artistic Vision

© 2011 Dana Marie Bell

The Gray Court, Book 3

Akane Russo, one of the Hob’s top Blades, can’t wait for her current assignment to end. She’s been tasked with protecting Shane Dunne from the Malmayne clan’s scheme to kidnap him once again. But no one—not even her Seer half—warned her she’d have to protect herself from his heated gaze. Or that her dragon half would find him an irresistible puzzle.

Shane knew his destined bride would never come to him willingly, but she’s stuck with him and he plans to use her predicament to his advantage. It’s only a matter of time before she succumbs to what they both want. Their Claiming will be beautiful beyond even his wildest imaginings—and his wild, free dragoness will finally see herself as he sees her.

Then his unique, hybrid-borne visions reveal a new danger. The prophecy of the Child of Dunne can only be fulfilled down a path he must travel alone. To a place so dark and dangerous that even his truebond’s flame may not be bright enough to lead him home.

Warning: Contains explicit sex, graphic language, a pissed-off dragon assassin and a smart-mouthed Nebraskan farm boy. Bet you can figure out who wins that fight! (Hint: It’s not the dragon…)

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Artistic Vision:

Akane woke the next day more refreshed than she’d felt in quite some time. The bed was soft, the birds were chirping, and the strong arm around her waist was comforting. She snuggled in deeper and found herself cradled against a strong chest. “Mmm.”

Her only answer was a light snore.

Akane stifled her giggle. Jethro snored? It was so…adorable.

Akane blinked.
Wait a minute.
She turned her head, hoping that somehow she was still dreaming.

Nope. There was a huge lump of Nebraskan in her bed, snoring and drooling on her pillow. “Shane.”

He snuffled and pulled her tighter to him. One thick thigh covered both her legs.

“Jethro.” She tugged on his chest hairs, hoping the pain would wake him up.

“Akane.”

No one, most especially Shane, had the right to moan her name like that. “Wake up, Shane.”

One huge paw slid up her hip. His face nuzzled into her neck, his whiskers abrasive. Tantalizing. She could almost feel that beard brushing the skin of her inner thighs.

Gah. Mind out of the gutter!
If this continued she’d probably find her ankles somewhere around his ears followed shortly by an Awkward Morning After Moment. So in sheer self defense she grabbed hold of his nipple and twisted it. “WAKE! UP!”

She didn’t know that the Dunnes had Banshee blood in them. When her ears stopped ringing she found herself pinned to the bed by one angry half-Sidhe, half-leprechaun hybrid. His sapphire eyes had darkened to near black, his reddish blonde hair stuck up in messy spikes and whorls around his head. His lips were pressed firmly together.

So were her legs.

“Was that really necessary?” Shane’s deep, easy-going drawl was thickened by sleep and annoyance.

He’d managed to get hold of her wrists and pin her hands beside her head, something she didn’t realize until she tried to push him off. “Yes.”

“You think waking a man with a purple nurple is appropriate?”

“In certain circumstances, yes.”

A truly evil grin took over his face. “Then I’m certain you’ll understand why I find this equally appropriate.”

Akane’s eyes went wide as Shane swooped down, taking her mouth in a kiss that threatened to unlock her legs. Before she could stop herself her lips parted, letting him in. Shane took immediate advantage, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with an intensity that told her how he’d thrust his cock into her body. He’d take her, leaving her no doubt as to who she was with, who she belonged to.

His flavor burst over her, feral, deep and strong. It was a taste she could easily find herself addicted to. His hands curled around hers as somehow he took the kiss deeper. She found herself breathing him in, his scent surrounding her, his taste filling her. His hard cock nudged her stomach. For a brief moment of insanity she allowed her thighs to relax.

For some reason, Shane didn’t take advantage of the implied invitation. Instead the kiss softened, became something more than just need, stronger than just hunger. Something tingled and danced across her skin, like snow fairies, cold and delicate. Akane risked opening her eyes.

Gold and green sparks lit the air around them. The son of a bitch’s Sidhe half was trying to Claim her.

Before she could buck him off he ended the kiss. “Damn, girl.” He groaned, his forehead resting against hers, his hips rocking into her, dragging his cock along the silk of her pajama pants. “Just…damn.”

“Get off me.”

He blinked, looking shocked at the harsh, growled words. “Akane.”

“I am
not
your gods-damned mate, Shane.”

His head tilted. For one brief moment she thought it was anger coloring his features before it was completely swamped by determination. “Fight it all you want. Yell. Scream. Throw things.” He blinked, his lips twitching. “But not in my mother’s living room.” He almost succeeded in winning a smile from her. His lips brushed the tip of her nose. “But we both know you’re mine.”

She growled up at him. In about five seconds smoke would literally pour out of her ears if he didn’t get off her. “You’re delusional.”

He smiled, an expression so full of joy she was shocked. “No. I’m blessed.” He brushed another soft kiss across her nose before slowly climbing out of bed. She tried to ignore the way his pajama pants rode low on his hips, or the way his hard cock tented the flannel fabric. He stretched, his arms over his head, his hands almost touching the ceiling. The long line of his back arched, his muscles bunched, and Akane had to stifle a groan of her own. He finished stretching and shook himself. “Coffee.” She watched in disbelief as he sauntered toward the bedroom door. “C’mon, darlin’ time’s awastin’.” He sent her a heart-stopping grin and opened the door. “My woman has bad guy ass to kick, remember?”

Her jaw dropped. He winked and, without another glance, left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Akane picked up the pillow he’d been drooling on and, with an ear-splitting shriek, threw it at the door. She could not allow herself to be drawn in by Jethro. She was a fucking
Blade
! A total badass! Men quivered in fear when she appeared irritated. Fae hid in whatever nooks and crannies they could force themselves into at the sound of her wings. She ate Black Court vampires for breakfast and thought nothing of having lunch with the Hob afterward. She had Louis Vuitton on speed dial and could buy the Dunne farm a thousand times over.

And Shane thought the whole thing was what? Cool? Neat? Fucking
cute?

Akane’s jaw clenched. If Shane thought a few sparkly lights were going to make
this
dragoness settle down on the farm, he had another thing coming.

Akane blinked. The drifting scent of freshly brewed coffee filled her senses. Her mouth watered at the thought of one of Aileen’s perfect breakfasts. Was she making pancakes? Akane
loved
pancakes.
Then again, maybe I could stay here for a while.

“Aren’t you out of bed yet?” Shane’s laughing voice carried through the door. She could hear his big feet stamping down the stairs. She’d have to hustle to get anything to eat. The man ate enough food to feed three people.

Haunted by personal betrayal, stalked by a murderer and taunted by destiny.

Finding justice—not to mention a little faith—has never been so hard.

Wrath

© 2011 Denise Tompkins

The Niteclif Evolutions, Book 2

A murderer is terrorizing the streets of London, targeting women who look suspiciously like Maddy. Under the mantle of darkness, the killer attacks his victims from behind, severing their heads with startling efficiency and single-minded brutality. A single gold coin is left at the scene of every crime, buried in the neck of each victim. Nothing adds up, and the deeper Maddy gets into the investigation, the more she learns that there are hostile eyes in every faction—some malicious, others murderous.