Losing It: A Collection of VCards (32 page)

That earned her a hard smack on the butt. “I can handle you just fine. Watch me.” He was surprisingly hard again and, without warning, plunged i
nside her, knocking the breath out of her.

He swiveled his hips in small circles, making her cry in need and disbelief, and then changed the way he moved into fast and hard driving thrusts, giving her two strong orgasms in the process and ending with his
own. When she begged for another one, he withdrew, laughing. “
You aren
’
t demanding, baby. You
’re totally greedy!”

“
You
make me greedy.”
She smirked
, but then somberly looked at him. “This was incredible. Just incredible. I can’t believe we waited so long t
o … wow.”

That statement made Jatred howl in laughter. Finally, he helped her up and, reaching to the side for the shampoo bottle, said, “I’m actually glad we waited. I know this might sound weird, especially coming from a guy, but think about it—
if we
had
gone all the way before we were granted all this fun knowledge from the enhancing Spirits, our first time would’ve never been so amazing. No way.”

She rolled her eyes and watched him wash his hair. Jatred massaged the shampoo into his scalp and moved to s
tand directly under the water raining down on them. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and, with his muscular arms raised and bent at the elbows, he looked better
to Jasmira
than he had ever before—like a young god of lust and endless pleasure. And
even more importantly: he belonged to her.

“You know … you’re right.” She nodded in agreement, stepping away from the water and wringing her hair. “It could’ve been a really mediocre experience. Or worse—a total disaster.”

Jatred turned the water off and
reached for Jasmira. “Where do you think you’re going? I like you best wet and naked.” He grinned and tucked a long, curly strand of hair behind her ear.

She hugged him close, aligning her cheek with his chest.

Jatred lifted Jasmira’s chin with his finger
and kissed her gently, feeling her tremble in his arms. “
I don
’t want us to put any clothes on, but I’m afraid we need to go see your grandma at the hospital and my uncle at the Tornwoods’ house. Although, don’t you get any ideas of sleeping anywhere else
but in my bed from now on.”

They both knew the long-established ways of their Races: they promised themselves to one another.  It was as fundamental as the wolf in him and the leopard in her: they had in each other a mate for life
.
The ancient bond between
the Shape Shifters that their love had created just deepened and became completely irreversible. With the Universal powers of the ten-thousand-year’s mark trapped in the Amulet and the Summer Goddess removed from the human world, they were safe. At least
for now.

***

Sealing The Bond is an extended bonus scene from
Forged by Greed
by A.O. Peart. It
depicts what happened between the protagonists, Jatred and Jasmira, right after the last scene in Forged by Greed.

About the Author

A.O. Peart writes romantic comedy, romantic suspense, paranormal, and urban fantasy novels. Her Bestselling romantic suspense novel Resist Me has been listed as #1 in several Amazon categories and on Bestseller lists, including the Movers & Shakers.

Books in her NA contemporary romantic comedy series Almost Bad Boys were also listed as Bestsellers on Amazon and were nominated by the Indie Romance Convention 2014 for four different categories, including The Best Indie Upcoming Series, while Angela was nominated as
Best Indie Author of the Year 2014.

Almost Matched was voted as #36 among
"The 50 Best Self-Published Books Worth Reading 2014.”

Angela lives in the Seattle area with her family and a chronically curious cat Cinnamon.
(
You can often spot her in one of the countless Seattle Starbucks locations, feverishly typing on her computer and sipping coffee with cream—or rather cream with some coffee in it. Don’t be surprised when a paperback you ordered from her arrives “decorated” with coffee and chocolate stains (kidding!)

Books by A.O. Peart:

Resist Me
(Change Me/McCoy Raven Brothers #1, standalone)

Reclaim Me
(Change Me/McCoy Raven Brothers #2, standalone)

Almost Bad Boys series

Forged series

Website/blog

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Next Book Release Promo Post signup (a giveaway offered)

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Roseline’s Redemption

By Amy Miles

A previously unreleased scene from
Redemption
, Book 3 of the Arotas series.

Fane lies still beneath his foe, barely breathing. Roseline sobs beside him but her cries are distant in his ears.  It is his time. He has no desire to fight it.

How long he has yearned for this release. To be free of the multitude of horrors he has beheld in his long years.  Roseline was his only reason for lingering.  The one good thing he still held on to that could push aside the evil.

She was once his to claim but now she belongs to another.  Staring at the tears that streak down her face, Fane knows that she still loves him. Perhaps this bond is not the same, nor to a depth equal to that which he has clung to all of these years, but he knows he still holds a place in her heart. That is enough…in the end.

“Kill me,” he pleads.

“No!” He watches as Roseline struggles against Mateo’s weight.  The hulking immortal feels unbearably heavy as he flails above, beating at Roseline with his sharpened nails. She slams her fist into his face and he falls still once more. The twelve-inch spikes that pierce Fane’s body sends his thoughts into a torrent of pain.

“I’m going to save you,” she vows.  Sinking her teeth deep into her wrist, she holds out her arm, inching as far under Mateo as she can manage. The scent of her blood curdles in his stomach. His nostrils flare as he tries to turn away.

“Too…late.” He coughs and allows his eyes to close as blood bubbles along his lips. He is weary.  Not from the battle but from years of hatred, bitterness and a longing for something that cannot be.

Roseline offers to heal him, to use her own blood to rejuvenate him to full health, but he cannot allow himself to feed. To do so would mean near certain death for her on the battle field. Lucien’s armies may be scattered but the war is far from over.

“Don’t leave me.”

I never will.  
Fane focuses on his breathing, listening to the rasping sound where air escapes through his punctured lungs.  The near constant trickle of blood seeping from his rapidly slowing heart is soothing.

Death approaches swiftly and with it comes many lifetimes worth of memories. Times lost to him. Stolen moments with Roseline in his arms and in his bed. Before her wayward heart stole her from him. Before Gabriel. A time when she was free to laugh and love, even if it was only in secret.

In all his years on this Earth, he has never glimpsed a woman as beautiful as her. A tender heart. A hopeful smile. A will to survive, no matter the cost.

Yes, Roseline has seen despair. She has given in to evil, embraced all that it could offer her, but she overcame in the end. She leaned on him in her darkest hour and together they fought back.

He can still remember the feel of her silken skin beneath his fingertips.  Embrace the warmth of her smile as she lay beside him in the meadow in the grounds of Castle Bran when all eyes were turned away. Her laughter always brought joy to his heart.

Fane has loved Roseline with every fiber of his being. From the first moment he glimpsed her, he knew love. His fingers flinch beside him as he struggles for breath, allowing himself to seize upon a single memory as Roseline’s pleas fall away.

The clash of swords startled Roseline from her attack. Her arm shuddered as Fane stepped from behind a tree and asserted his force against her lowered blade. A young woman, no older than twenty summers, whimpered at Roseline’s feet, her skin pallid and eyes widened with fright. A babe squalled against her chest, its tiny arms flailed against the cold.

“Get on with you.” He stepped over the woman’s legs and forced Roseline away from her victim.

“Fane!” Her teeth gnashed when the woman scrambled to her feet and rushed away.  “You just stole my dinner from me.”

Roseline trembled beneath his damning gaze, her skin flushed from battle. Her braided hair fell over her bared shoulder like waves of fired bronze, illuminated in the firelight. Her skin was as pale as winter snow. Her lips painted with blood.

The leather corset cinched about her waist was layered with braided strips of tan and black. Her leather skirt fell about her upper thigh. Her boots were knee-length and splattered with a mixture of muck and blood.

“Since when are humans considered dinner?”

A sly smile tugged at her lips, but did not meet her eyes as she parried Fane’s added pressure on their locked swords. “You’ve been gone a long while.”

“Apparently too long.”

“Much has changed.”

He nodded, ill at the sight of her gloating, at the unbridled lust in her eyes.  He had seen it before but never dared to think he would see it in one once so pure.

“So you are truly back, then?” Her eyes grew wide with challenge but she did not yield.

“I am.”

He could see her indecision at his announcement; heard the sounds of the battles that raged all around them. The scent of blood clung to the air, thick and moist.  Human blood. The sound of feeding echoed from the dense fog that claimed the land.

No. Not fog. Smoke.

A village nearby was set aflame. Livestock ran amok through the woods. Shouts could still be heard from the distance. None would survive this attack. Roseline’s husband, Vladimir, would see to that.

“I thought you dead.” She did not break his gaze.

Fane stepped forward, the edge of his blade slid along her own as she altered her position to stay at odds with him.  “I made a vow when I fled and I intended to keep it.

There was a feral look about her. Blood cloaked her skin and matted the hair about her face. Her blade gleamed bright crimson.  The scent of death about her was potent.

“Nothing has changed since you fled. It is not safe here for you.”

He dipped his head in agreement. “All the same, I had to see you.”

“After all these years, why return now?”

He felt a slight lessening of her grip on her sword and saw a rebellious longing that built within her. He could smell her. Not the filth on her flesh but her—the scent of her soap, her hair, and the blood that flowed through her own veins. Sweet, just as she was when he left.

“I heard rumors.”

“Of me?” Her lip curled with disgust as she looked to her sword. Her chest rose and fell from the exertion of battle.  Bodies lay at their feet—men, women and children slain in their prime. Their blood rose through the leaves as Fane pressed her back toward a nearby tree line. She stepped in pace with him, not giving him any hint of an advantage.

Satisfied that he held her fullest attention, Fane shoved Roseline’s sword off. He stepped back and placed his blade into its sheath before spreading his arms out beside him. “This is not you, Roseline.”

She raised her chin in defiance. “You no longer know me.”

“That is not true.”  He raised a hand and pushed her blade aside.  She allowed it to fall away, the tip grazing the ground as he stepped closer. “You are good, kind, and compassionate.”

Her hair fell like a veil over her face as she cast her gaze aside. “I once was.”

“You still are.”

“No!” She roared and shoved him back. “That girl is gone.”

“Never.”

A callous laugh escaped her lips. Her body language shifted, adopting a haughty stance. “It has been a century since I last laid eyes on you, Fane. Do not presume to know my mind.”

“I do not.” He refused to back down, prepared to find her changed, but not to this depth.  “I know your heart. It is pure.”

Roseline’s lips formed thin lines as she tapped her sword against her leg. “No longer. My husband has seen to that.”

“Do you think yourself lost then?  That evil will reside within you for the rest of your days?”

Her smirk chilled his soul.  “Would you think less of me that I now know bloodlust? That I sate my needs with innocent babes? That I take what I want, exactly when I want it?”

“You know that I do not. I am far from perfect.”

“You?” She scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, her blade forgotten for the moment.

Fane watched a droplet of blood slide along the contour of her arm and forced his gaze away. “And Vladimir? Have you given yourself fully to him as well?”

Roseline’s eyes narrowed as she spit at Fane’s feet. “Do not speak that name to me.”

“So it is still vile to you?” He stepped closer, marking each breath.  A thick branch crunched beneath his boots. The fires would soon spread to this part of the forest with no one left to stave off the flames.  All would be lost within the day.

“For all of eternity.”

“And my name?”  Another step.  She watched him with extreme wariness.  He could feel her longing to turn and flee, to head back into the battle, to ignore his presence, but he refused to allow it to be done so easily. He traveled too great a distance for her. He would not back down.

“It once held fondness for me,” she grudgingly admitted before she shifted her stance once more. Her agitation mounted as he drew nearer.

“And now?”  With one final step he pressed his chest against hers as she leaned back into a tall pine.  Wisps of smoke curled around her, concealing parts of her face from sight only to reveal them once more a breath later. She swallowed and looked to the woods. The clanging of swords had moved off. The battle had shifted. “Do you fear me?”

“No,” she snapped back, but fell silent as she sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Her chest rose as a new flush bloomed along the plunging curve of her corset as her eyes searched his. “And yes.”

“You know I would never see you harmed.”  He slowly raised his hand, pausing long enough to wait for her permission. When she did not resist, he pressed his palm to her cheek. Her eyelashes flickered once, betraying her. “I have dreamt of this moment each night since I left you.”

“And yet you remained absent.” Despite the bite to her words, they held a slight breathless nature.

“I had no choice.” His long, unbound hair unsettled over the crest of his shoulders. The winds shifted in their direction and the scent of the blaze became more prominent. “My presence here put you in danger.”

“And your absence destroyed me!” Fane flinched back at the vehemence in her voice. “You created this. Not Vladimir. I longed for you. Pined for you. For years I waited at the castle gates at first light, knowing that one day you would return for me.” She turned her face aside. “You never came.”

Leaning in close, Fane pressed his lips to her temple. She trembled beneath him. “And for that I am truly sorry. I did only what I felt best for you.”