I reached into my waistband for my phone. “You don’t have to. I’m calling for help.”
Lucrezia snatched my wrist. “Oh no, you’re not.”
I yanked my arm away, so jacked up on all the heavy emotions I sent her flying a couple steps backward with the force. “The Gryphons are going to find out about this one way or another. I am not letting any more people die.”
I was so intent on facing down Lucrezia that I didn’t notice Devon come up behind me until it was too late. I held my phone in a loose grip, and he pried it away easily.
He dodged me just as smoothly when I lunged for it. “Jess, stop a second. Lucrezia, take a couple people and go calm everybody down. Free drinks or whatever you have to do to help them get over it.”
“Whatever you have to do? You’re going to put compulsions on everyone, aren’t you?” I grabbed fruitlessly for my phone.
Lucrezia pointed at me. “What about her? I think I should—”
“I think you’ll do what I ordered you to do,” he snapped.
Lucrezia’s eyes flashed, but Devon outranked her, so she vented her annoyance by barking orders at the bouncers.
I started to protest again, and Devon grabbed my arm. “Jess, we’re going back to my office.”
He dragged me into the elevator, and I huddled against the opposite wall when he released me. Devon sagged slightly. I’d never seen him so frazzled. Not even during the middle of the crisis with the sylphs.
He caught me looking. “There can be too much of a good thing. Even for us.”
“This isn’t a good thing.” I held out my hand for my phone, but he ignored the gesture. The elevator doors opened, and I stormed after him into his office. “Lucrezia’s going to put compulsions on everyone, isn’t she?”
“No, she’s not. That kind of spell requires far too much preparation. She’s probably going to do exactly what I said, hand out free drinks and try to convince people it was part of an act.” He stuck my phone in his pocket. “You can have this back later when I know you’re not going to do anything I’ll regret.”
I stuck my hands on my hips. “If you want to make this difficult, I can make it difficult. Who do you think the Gryphons are going to believe if I file charges against you?”
“You’re not going to do that because if you want to get to the bottom of this, you need our cooperation.”
I laughed. “What cooperation? I want blood samples from those people, and I want the Gryphons here to help them. You don’t know if the drug wearing off will be enough. The drug itself could be what kills them.”
“If this has something to do with F, then this is my business. Not yours. Not the Gryphons. If you want credit for solving the problem with the Gryphons when we work it out, it can be arranged. But you need to let us handle the problem so you don’t get hurt.”
“You know, this is the second time you said that today. Are you concerned, or are you threatening me?”
“I’m warning you. As a friend.”
“Warn someone who cares. I’m not afraid of you or any pred.”
Devon stared at me a second, his brow furrowed, then the next thing I knew he pinned me against the desk. I swallowed. His eyes were as bright as Lucen’s could get when he was angry, and power leaked off him the same way. I could feel it spilling over my skin and rousing my nerve endings, just as I could feel Devon probing about in my head.
I breathed in, ready for a fight. Devon’s satyr pheromones smelled of cloves. Why hadn’t I ever noticed that before? My body awakened with desire, skin alight and mouth tingling. I could stretch forward and touch my lips to his, imagine their salty taste, the scratch of his day-old stubble on my chin.
Never mind that whole fight-or-flight response. With satyrs, it was totally a fight-or-fuck response. And damn, I knew which one I wanted. I slid my hands around Devon’s waist, down his hips, into his pockets, pulling him closer.
His body responded easily. I could feel his desire pressing against me, see the heavy rise and fall of his chest. He leaned in closer, his gaze so intense I was surprised I wasn’t starting to steam. Every breath he exhaled brushed my skin like a caress, urging my eyes to close and my lips to part.
Then he backed away, confusion replacing his smoldering look, and the poking in my head stopped. My own lust evaporated. Being stared at like a lab rat must have that effect on a person.
“No, you’re not afraid,” he said. “But you used to be. What changed?”
What had changed? I wished I knew. Why was his power affecting me when no one else’s did except for Lucen’s?
One terrifying premonition brings them together. Another will threaten their future.
Mostly Magic
© 2014 Donna June Cooper
Books of the Kindling, Book 2
Do dreams come true? Dr. Daniel Woodruff hopes they don’t, because his dreams predict a devastating future for him, for those he loves—and for the planet.
His latest premonition, which blows a huge crater in his eroding sanity, holds a singular horror—the loss of a wife and unborn child. Yet another reason he can let no one into his chaotic life, least of all a perky, persistent investigative reporter he finds simultaneously frustrating and fascinating.
Mel Noblett leaves no stone unturned in her one-woman crusade to save the environment. When a whistleblower in Italy proves too frightened to talk, Mel turns to a fall-back lead, an extremely eccentric, beekeeping professor who might just make the trip worthwhile.
Despite their instant attraction, Mel is relieved when Daniel keeps her at arm’s length. After all, she has a secret of her own—one that makes her preternaturally good at her job. And, when Daniel’s terrifying visions prove cannily accurate and begin to revolve around Mel—it is a gift that could put her life in danger.
Warning: Reluctant seer of a bleak future meets petite force of nature who lights up the heart of his darkness. Where there’s smoke, there could be an unpredictable blaze of passion, but the rewards are oh, so sweet…
Enjoy the following excerpt for Mostly Magic:
“I need a gurney or a room or something, now!” Daniel walked through the glass doors into the ER carrying the woman in his arms. It wasn’t difficult. She felt far too small and fragile even bundled in all those blankets.
A burly man in scrubs came around the admissions desk. “Let me have her.”
“No. I’ll carry her. Point me to a bed,” Daniel insisted.
“Take it easy, fella.” The man waved his arms. “We can’t let—”
The double doors to the treatment area banged open and Beth Campbell came running out. “It’s okay. This is my neighbor, Daniel Woodruff.”
Daniel was relieved to see Beth’s familiar face as the burly orderly backed away.
“We’re ready, Daniel,” Beth said. “Bring her on back. Room 6. This way.”
“The contractions haven’t stopped,” Daniel said, trudging after her. “She’s only five months along, Beth. She started bleeding—”
“Let’s not panic. It could be a false alarm,” Beth said.
“It’s not a false alarm,” Daniel said. “It’s not Braxton-Hicks or anything like that. Grace said—”
“It’s all right, Daniel. I know. Lay her down and we’ll take over,” Beth soothed, patting the bed. The room was suddenly full of people as Daniel eased the woman onto the bed. She was still warm, still breathing. But she was limp and unresponsive, her face far too pale and sweaty. He leaned over to kiss her brow, but someone’s hand pulled him away. He was herded out the door as the professionals took over, bustling around her bed until he could no longer see her and the door swung shut in his face.
“Danny? Danny!” came a tinny voice from his hand. He realized he was still clutching his cell phone, still connected.
“Grace?”
“Yes, I heard. You got the
re in one piece.” Grace’s voice was thin and far away. “Take some deep breaths. The OB on call is in there.”
“Yeah. But she looks so pale.” He looked at the blood on his sleeve. “And she’s bleeding a lot.”
“She’ll be all right,” Grace said.
Daniel noticed that Grace didn’t mention the baby. “I know. She’s a tough little thing.”
“Yes, she is. We’re boarding in a minute. I’m…I’m so sorry I couldn’t get back in time, Danny,” Grace said. “So sorry.”
Grace could have stopped this from happening. Grace could have fixed it. But she couldn’t get a flight home fast enough.
“She was fine. We were so careful. She hasn’t been out of the house in weeks. We haven’t even let Jamie come around. How could she have—”
“You don’t know what’s wrong. Not yet.”
“What else could it be?” Daniel barked. “How is this thing being transmitted, Grace? Has anyone down there got a clue?”
“Maybe,” Grace said, but she didn’t sound convinced. Daniel heard the noise of an announcement and then the rumble of Nick’s voice in the background. “We’ve got to get on our flight. We’ll be there as soon as we can. I love you!” Her voice broke on a sob. “Tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It’s okay, sis. It’s okay.”
“Hey, Daniel.” Nick’s voice came over the line, steady and reassuring. “Hang in there. We’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Thanks, Nick. Tell Grace it’s not her fault. She can’t be everywhere at once,” Daniel said brokenly. “I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t.”
“This thing is fast, Daniel. You couldn’t have. I’m trying to convince her that none of us are infallible, but you know how she is. You take care of yourself and that precious lady of yours.”
Daniel ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket, his eyes still on the door into room 6. He wanted to barge in. Whatever was happening, he wanted to hold her hand at least.
Instead he went to the sitting area in the hallway, but he couldn’t bring himself to sit. He put his hands up to lean against the wall, but it was too noisy around the nurses’ station to hear what was going on in her room. Much too busy. Looking at the haggard, pale faces of the staff, he wondered how many times they had seen this happen lately. How many miscarriages? How many preemies? Shaking his head, he glanced down at a stack of magazines on one of the chairs.
The Time magazine on top had a chart on the front of it. A simple line graph told the story—a stark red line sliding downward, labeled “Global Birth Rate”. He picked that one up and saw another beneath it with a cover photo of an empty crib. His vision blurred as he thought about the nursery at the old home place that they had almost finished decorating for the baby.
Why did Grace have to be away now? Of all days, why today? Nick had wrangled a meeting with some geek at the CDC, and that was saying something, given what was going on. But why today?
“Damn,” he whispered, closing his eyes, trying to make it all disappear.
I don’t want to see this.
He heard the door to the treatment room and opened his eyes.
The edges of his vision had gone dark, as if part of the hallway had vanished.
Shut it off now.
He blinked and tried to focus as Beth emerged, but his vision had narrowed until her face, drawn and sad, was the only thing he could see. As if a spotlight were focused on her face, and the rest was in darkness.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No!”
Shut it OFF!
Like a light going off, Beth’s face just blinked out.
There were voices in the hall outside his hotel room—loud and Italian—reminding him of where and when he was. He opened his eyes. Bologna. The conference. From the sounds outside, it was morning, but in his room it was pitch-black—again.
“Damn.”
He wiped his hand across his face and it came away wet. He could still feel the strain in his muscles from carrying her into the ER, and there was a hollow pain in his chest when he thought about their baby.
It was one thing to dream about fruitless trees and blasted fields, food shortages and a slow slide into extinction, but this nightmare promised an apocalypse that was far from slow. This plague, whatever it was, was devastating and very personal.
The first time he had this dream, he had thought it was Grace in his arms, losing her precious Lily. But it wasn’t. This time he was on the phone with his sister, and she was in Atlanta. So, if it wasn’t Grace…
There was no one in his life, and there would never be. It couldn’t have been his wife in his arms. It couldn’t have been his child.
A normal nightmare. Just like everyone else. Cooked up by his subconscious. Or maybe too much sambuca in his espresso last night. Horrible, but not prescient. A nightmare, that’s all.
But his arms still ached with her warm weight. His heart was still raw from the terror he had felt for her and for their baby. The feeling of loss was real and potent. And, most telling of all, he was blind, again.
Damn.
Only a real look at the future ever left him groping in the pitch-blackness like this. As he waited impatiently for the dark to ease into murky gray, he grasped for the details, desperate to remember when and who, but the dates on those magazines had already slid away from him into so much smoke, along with the face of the woman he’d held in his arms.
Some secrets are best forgotten.
A Veil of Secrets
© 2014 Hailey Edwards
Araneae Nation, Book 5
Fresh from the battlefields of Erania, Marne rides south with Edan, headed for the city of Beltania. Among the Mimetidae guards accompanying them is Asher, who’s been a thorn in her side since the day they met. He’s rude and abrasive…yet he was the first to volunteer as escort.
Marne dreams of a fresh start where no one knows who—or what—she is. But first, they must cross the veil. Rumor has it spirits haunt that grim stretch of road, and unwary travelers who enter are never heard from again.
Veil or no veil, Asher is honor bound to see Marne safely to her new home. Though truth be told, Marne leaving Erania is the last thing he wants. This journey is his final chance to convince her distance will only make his heart grow fonder.
When Edan is lost to the mists, Marne is trapped in a strange land with no allies—with a man who draws her closer every day. Closer to her heart, and her secrets. Secrets she must reveal if they are to save the one man bent on tearing them apart.
Warning: This book contains one heroine willing to fly into the face of danger and the hero who gives her heart wings. This adventure is BYOM, Bring Your Own Meal. Trust me, where we’re going, takeout is to die for. Literally.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Veil of Secrets:
“Did you know anyone can make an offering to Old Father, and if he accepts, he can divine their future mate?” He let me snatch the journal out of his hands. “The Salticidae belief in soul mates is so deeply rooted in their culture that before a person forms a strong bond with their significant other the couple must have their spiritual status confirmed. They bring Old Father an item that belongs to their beloved, and from that he can tell whether they are a match. I decided to test his process for myself.”
“Why would you—?” A worse thought occurred to me. “You shared my journal with him?”
“No.” He reached behind his back. “That would have been a violation of your trust.”
“Trust? What trust?” My claws lengthened. “You read my journal without my permission.”
His lips tightened. “I read your notes to save you, to learn how to care for you.”
The joints in my wings began itching. “I am not a pet.”
“You would have died if I hadn’t,” he pointed o
ut to me.
I tucked the journal, the memories of Edan, against my chest. “I wanted to.”
He went still. “And now?”
“I will do my duty to Henri.” Starting tomorrow, I would write. “Then I’m going after Idra.”
He pulled the bowl I had used for breakfast from behind him.
“Where did you—?” I groaned, feeling ten kinds of foolish. “You lied to me.”
“I did. I had to know.” He tossed it to the ground. “Tell me.”
Tell him. Not hardly. “I see no reason to answer your deceit with the truth.”
“Tell me the truth.” He prowled closer. “Were you married to Edan?”
The evasion came harder to my tongue than expected. “That is none of your business.”
He stalked me until my back hit a tree. “A yes would have been simpler.”
My pulse leapt when he braced a hand over my head and leaned closer. “Why does it matter?”
“It might be what you are, or what was done to me, but I can’t stop thinking about you.” His jaw worked. “You can imagine how that conflicts my morals to covet another male’s wife, especially one whose husband obviously adored her.” He smiled, and it was hard. “Rather he doted on her, like one might a younger sister. After reading your journal, I thought to myself that I never saw you and Edan be affectionate in the way husbands and wives are. Rough as his edges were, he would have stolen a kiss from you, a real kiss, if he had wanted one. Yet he never did. Not that I saw. Why was that?”
I shivered as his eyes searched mine. “Perhaps we believe in keeping our private lives private.”
“No.” He brushed his knuckles down my cheek. “You have such fire in you and yet I never once saw that spark of passion in your eyes when you looked at him. You didn’t desire him, did you?”
I clamped my mouth shut.
“There it is.” His soft chuckle blew his warm breath across my face. “That spark I so admire.”
I shoved his chest. “What did Old Father tell you to make you so bold?”
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