Secret Unleashed: Secret McQueen, Book 6 (38 page)

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem. You think you can stand up?” He offered her his hand.

Emmy was struck dumb momentarily when she met his eyes. She shifted her gaze, staring at his hand like she didn’t understand what its purpose was. “Stand up?” She must have still been woozy from the fall.

“Like, on your feet?” Alex suggested. “Did you sustain any head injuries we didn’t see?”

“No,” she said with forced certainty and took Tucker’s hand, letting him draw her up to a standing position. The front of their bodies brushed against each other, making her cheeks flush. His chest was hard and toned and felt warm through the threadbare material of his shirt.

Too bad she couldn’t blame her blush on an imaginary bump to the noggin. What had gotten into her? She
never
got worked up around famous athletes.

“I have to go.” She pushed herself off him, letting her touch linger a moment longer than was respectable before snatching her hand away and giving herself a stern internal lecture.

Bad Emmy!

Her bike hadn’t sustained any serious damage, so when she climbed back on, the frame was still in excellent shape to help her make a speedy getaway, though her knee protested something fierce.

“Hey,” Tucker called after her. “What’s your…?”

His voice trailed off as she turned a corner. She realized too late he’d been trying to ask her name, and she’d run off without so much as a backwards glance.

She’d just completely blown off Tucker Lloyd.

It’s all quasi-legal fun until somebody gets framed for murder.

Wicked Misery

© 2013 Tracey Martin

Miss Misery, Book 1

Jessica Moore thrives on misery. Literally. Thanks to a goblin’s curse, she gets a magical high from humanity’s suffering. A shameful talent like that could bury a girl in guilt, so to atone, she uses her dark power to hunt murderers, rapists and other scumbags—until one of them frames her for his crimes.

In desperation, Jessica seeks refuge with the one person she trusts to not turn her in—a satyr named Lucen. Like every member of his race, Lucen uses his lusty magic to control Boston’s human population, and Jessica isn’t immune to his power. But the murder victims belonged to a rival race, and when they discover Lucen is harboring Jessica, dodging the cops becomes the least of her problems.

With only five days to find the real killer, Jessica faces a danger far more serious than the brewing magical war. The danger of succumbing to Lucen’s molten seduction.

Warning: Contains a heroine with a lust for misery, creepy murders, and creepier goblins, satyrs so hot you’d sell your soul for one, and scaly sewer rats masquerading as dragons. Who said magic was all sparkles and tiaras?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Wicked Misery:

I slumped off the sofa, and my butt hit the floor with a thud. Dull pain flew up my back. Add that to my despair and every pred in a ten-mile radius probably knew I was having a bad night. No wonder Lucen wasn’t touching his wine. I provided enough of a buzz.

“Little siren…”

“You mean stupid, dead woman.”

“Jessica, it won’t be the end of the world. Hitting that Gryphon with a chair was not in your best interest, but it was in mine, so I appreciate it. But so what if the Gryphons decide you can’t be trusted among humans anymore? You’ll live among us. You see we’re not so bad.”

I twisted around so I could laugh in his face. “Yeah right. Except when you’re all trying to turn me into an addict. From my perspective, that’s plenty bad, thanks.”

“Has anyone tried to addict you yet?”

“Not yet, but Dezzi’s counting on my help. When she’s done with me, any of you could.”

“And I’ve known you for ten years. If I wanted to addict you, I’d have done it. Don’t you think?”

Actually, no. I didn’t know what to think about that. Never had. I should have kept my mouth shut, but fear made me angry. “No. I don’t know all the details about addictions. For all I know you’re waiting for the right time. For one of your addicts to die or something.”

“You know as well as I do that I could cut one or all of them loose at any time. It’s not a question of not being able to handle one more.”

“So why wait? You could break my will just like that.” I snapped my fingers.
Brilliant, Jess. Just challenge him to do it, why don’t you?

“Do you think I’d enjoy that?”

“I know you would.” Oh yeah, I was earning a Ph.D. in stupidity tonight.

“You’re right. I would.” Lucen scowled and flopped back on the sofa.

I held my breath. Maybe I’d gotten lucky and my outburst wouldn’t get me in trouble, after all. Strange, but I was almost sad about that. I’d primed for a fight. I had anger to expel.

Then Lucen sat up, the scowl gone and replaced by a devious intensity. My stomach twisted. Okay, perhaps a fight hadn’t been a good idea. And I hadn’t gotten lucky. But it was too late now.

“Actually I’m far more insidious than you give me credit for. Your gift was cursed. My magic is inherent in my nature. You can’t compete, and therefore can’t really comprehend what I’m about. But, you see, being evil is a lot like sex. The release is fantastic, but the release is fleeting. It’s the buildup to the release that’s so sweet and lasting. Once I break you, it’s over. Done. But this way I can toy with you for a while, build your fear, prolong the anticipation—ten years so far—and savor the possibility that one day I’ll be too tempted not to finish you off.” He reached toward me, and I stiffened. “What do you think now?”

His fingers brushed my hair. My blood raced, but my breathing stopped. I couldn’t move.

Lucen pressed in closer, and his breath coated my ear like honey. “I haven’t touched you in ten years, little siren. Ten years because you simply asked me not to. What…” He tugged off the band around the bottom of my braid. “Are.” Started undoing the twist. “You.” I wanted to tell him to stop, but I was paralyzed. “Afraid of?”

The last of the braid came apart in his hands. I shivered, breaking the paralysis. “The potential.”

I closed my eyes, wondering what I meant. The potential for him to break me? For me to lose myself and become emotionally attached? For my humanity to drain away? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know whether I should take that speech of his seriously.

Lucen’s hands were on my shoulders now, and my ability to think clearly was fading. “I would never hurt you, little siren. I promise.”

I wanted to believe him, always had, but it seemed suicidal. All the promises in the world didn’t change what he was. He’d practically said as much me to the other day. He was what he was. He did what satyrs—what preds—did. He enjoyed it, and he could do it at any time. Letting him touch me was like baiting a lion. The best animal trainers could get away with it for a while, but occasionally their beasts turned on them.

Lucen’s cellphone rang in the kitchen. Saved by the bell, or the ringtone, rather.

It rang again, and he made no move to get up.

“Aren’t you…?”

“This is more important.” He moved closer, and his knees pressed into my back.

“But it could be Dezzi with information.”

“I doubt it’s urgent. She’ll leave a message. Jess.” He ran his fingers through my hair, lifted it off my neck. The phone made a last desperate plea for attention and went silent.

Crap. Now what?

Every bit of tension from where Lucen’s fingers played with my hair slid from my scalp down into my groin. Each muscle tensed with anticipation.
Stop it,
I wanted to say, but it was impossible. Even my mouth was too enthralled by his attention. “Why are you doing this?”

“I want you to trust me, little siren, but you won’t. You came to me on Monday because you felt you had no choice. You didn’t come to me because you trusted me, or because you thought I’d help you.”

“That’s not—” Well, it was a little true.

“Please, Jess. I can read you better than you read yourself, because you hide things from yourself and you can’t hide them from me. But it’s not a good idea. Don’t you see? You were right when you said nothing can be the same again. And that means you’re going to need to trust someone, and you don’t.”

“So you’re trying to earn my trust by breaking it?” But my body didn’t care how warped Lucen’s logic was. My will was cracking.

They just might survive…if they don’t kill each other first.

A Time of Dying

© 2013 Hailey Edwards

Araneae Nation, Book 3

Once the future Segestriidae maven, Kaidi lived a privileged life. Now she spends her nights haunting cities ravaged by the plague. Spade in hand, she stalks rows of freshly dug graves for corpses…and then she takes their heads.

Her new life is caked in blood and spattered with gore, but it’s hers. At least until—to her fury—she’s caught napping.

A plague survivor by the skin of his teeth, Murdoch risks his neck to solve the mysteries left in its wake. Bodies have gone missing. Guards have left their posts and never returned home.

When he rouses a female dozing among the dead, he’s unprepared for the violence of her response. Or his. Beneath the grime, she’s lovely. Too bad the blood under her fingernails belongs to his clansmen.

He has no choice but to follow this alluring creature deeper into her world of winged beasts and flesh-eating monsters. She holds the knowledge he craves, but the price is high—and they may both pay for it with their lives.

Warning: This book contains one heroine in desperate need of a bath and one hero willing to wash away her sins. Expect threats, swears and general cursing. Love is a slippery slope, and these two are sliding.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Time of Dying:

Better females than I had made the journey from Cathis to Titania inside of seven days. Late into our first morning, after a night of no sleep, I began dragging. Murdoch forged ahead, and he set a grueling pace. Though I had done my fair share of walking these past few months, and I did possess enviable endurance, those applied to my own slower gait and not to his long-legged one.

A stitch caught my side, and I put a hand to it, frustrated by pain that hobbled me further.

Murdoch chose that moment to check on me. “We’ll stop here and catch our breath.”

“Are you tired?” Though he stood waiting, I kept walking and finally passed him.

It was a short-lived lead.

“Yes.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and lifted me off my feet. “I am.”

After kicking a pile of loose pine straw into a mound at the base of a tree, he dropped onto it with a grunt and sat me across his lap. His head fell back against the trunk, and his eyes closed. I watched him breathing easily and knew we had stopped for my benefit. I thumbed his eyelid and pushed it open. His other remained resolutely closed. His lips, though, curved at their edges.

“Well?” He stared at me unblinking, which was no doubt due to my grip on his lid.

“Nothing.” The steadiness of his gaze unnerved me. “Rest while you can.”

Crooking an arm around my shoulders, he drew me close, and I nestled my face into his neck. “Only if you will.”

I shoved him. “Must everything be a negotiation with you?”

He rested his chin atop my head. “Must everything be a battle with you?”

“I have learned to fight for what I want.” It was how I had survived on my own.

“Even if what you desire would be freely given?”

“Especially then. Being offered things of value at no cost is when you should be wariest.”

“So rather than accept an offer, you think it best to force others into making the same deal?”

I huffed. “I was bargaining in terms you understood.”

“Huh.” He rubbed his bite marks. “So that’s what you were doing.”

“Yes.” I pulled at his hand. “The bite was incidental.”

“Was it?” He traced my lips with his fingertip.

I resisted the urge to nip him. He might like it too much. “It got your attention, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” His voice went husky. “It did.”

“You liked it.” My eyes widened. “You actually want me to do it again.”

His grin was at once roguish and shy. I’m not sure how he managed the combination.

“You did say if I hurried you would bite me again.” He paused. “I hurried.”

I thumped his chin. “You are incorrigible.”

“Where you’re concerned, yes.” He cupped my neck in his palm. “I possessed some sense of self-preservation before we met. After…” His thumb stroked my pulse. “I’ve been more reckless this week than I have in all of my life. I haven’t been the same since the night you stabbed me.”

“You had to remind me.” I groaned and put my face in my hands. “See a physician for it.”

Peeling aside one of my hands, he set it on his chest. “I fear my condition is untreatable.”