Pride of the Lion: Hades' Carnival, Book 3

by N. J. Walters

  As if summoned by his thoughts, Mordecai walked into the room. The serpent raised one eyebrow in question as he stepped over the remains of the guard demon. “Trouble?”

  Hades waved his hand. “It’s nothing.” He motioned to the mirror. “You did not kill the lion.”

  Mordecai looked supremely unconcerned. Hades wanted to shake the warrior’s confidence. He was too sure of himself. “You failed,” Hades pointed out.

  “No, I didn’t. I thought you wanted him alive to try to convince him to join you. He couldn’t do that if he was dead. The woman was disposable, the warrior was not.” Mordecai leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “It was the Lady manipulating the time continuum that messed things up.”

  The warrior had a point, even though Hades would not admit it. “They know about the woman in New Orleans.”

  “It doesn’t matter. All the pieces are in place, ready when you are, my lord.” The warrior added the two final words at the end as an afterthought. Hades gritted his molars together. Once this battle was won, he’d make the insolent warrior pay.

  “What about the Lady?” Mordecai asked.

  Hades waved his hand in the air and the black glass in the mirror changed, the scene growing lighter. The Lady of the Beasts appeared. She was seated beneath a large redwood tree, peering up at the sky. “She doesn’t appear to be too concerned about her remaining warriors, does she?” Hades watched Mordecai and was disappointed when the warrior seemed impervious to his barb. “The goddess is of no import. I will waste no more time on her. The end is at hand.”

  Mordecai smiled, and it gave Hades pause. It was too much like the smiles he saw when he gazed at his own reflection. “Then all is as planned.”

  Hades mentally called several of his fiercest demons to him, suddenly not wanting to be alone with the warrior. Which was ridiculous. Hades was a god, Mordecai an immortal warrior—strong, yes, but nothing when compared to the strength of a god.

  “Yes. All is as planned. Let’s go.” Hades strode from the room. Mordecai glanced at the mirror in the corner and then followed.

  About the Author

  N.J. Walters has always been a voracious reader of romance novels and decided one day that she could write one as well. The contemporary story, Discovering Dani, was the very first novel she wrote while living in a little town much like the one Dani O’Rourke lives in, though all other similarities to Dani’s life pretty much end there. Then she wrote another one that followed up on Dani’s friends and neighbors. But she didn’t consider herself a “real” writer yet.

  Just a few years later N. J. had a mid-life crisis at a fairly young age, gave notice after ten years at her job on a Friday and received a tentative acceptance for her first published novel (an erotic romance) from a publisher on the following Sunday.

  Happily married to the love of her life, with his encouragement and support she gave up the job of selling books for the more pleasurable job of writing them. She now spends her days writing novels of her own. Werewolves, vampires, time-travelers, seductive handymen and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to do it. And some days she actually feels like a “real” writer.

  N.J. enjoys hearing from readers, and she can be reached at njwalters22@yahoo.ca. You can check out her web site at www.njwalters.com.

  Look for these titles by N.J. Walters

  Now Available:

  Jamesville

  Discovering Dani

  The Way Home

  The Return of Patrick O’Rourke

  The Seduction of Shamus O’Rourke

  A Legal Affair

  By the Book

  Past Promises

  Legacy

  Alexandra’s Legacy

  Isaiah’s Haven

  Legacy Found

  Quinn’s Quest

  Finding Chrissten

  Damek’s Redemption

  Spells, Secrets and Seduction

  A Touch of Magick

  Dreams of Seduction

  Love in Flames

  Hades’ Carnival

  Night of the Tiger

  Mark of the Bear

  Coming Soon:

  Hades’ Carnival

  Howl of the Wolf

  When the devil wants a deal, there’s no bowing out gracefully.

  Mark of the Bear

  © 2013 N.J. Walters

  Hades’ Carnival, Book 2

  At twenty-nine, Hollywood scream queen Kellsie Morris is acutely aware the clock is ticking on her career. Luckily, the one big role she needs to pad her retirement fund has just come through—the story of an immortal, shape-shifting warrior trapped in a carnival run by the Devil’s minions.

  When Kellsie arrives on set, she can’t resist climbing aboard an amazingly realistic carousel bear—and finds herself flung into a world where the horror is real. As real as the heat radiating off the half-naked hunk in her arms.

  Marko has waited an eternity for the chance to free his goddess, the Lady of the Beasts, and his fellow warriors from an ancient curse. But once he lays eyes on Kellsie, he knows to the bottom of his soul that his purpose is to protect her life.

  But in this hellish game, it’s the Devil’s move. And there’s no predicting when and where the final, brutal stroke will fall—and which lover will pay the ultimate price.

  Warning: This book contains a heroine who’s a screamer—in and out of bed—and a warrior who gives a whole new meaning to “method”. After reading, please use caution when standing up. Your knees may be weak.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Mark of the Bear:

  Marko tightened his grip on her, willing her to understand. “The Lady struck a deal with Hades, telling him how we could be released from our captivity in our animal form. One special woman would be able to free each of us, but Hades had to find her first. That was when he created the traveling carnival.”

  She tapped her finger against his chest. “That’s good. You’re good. But I’m still not buying the fact that you’re an ancient warrior.”

  Frustration swam through him as he absently ran his hand up and down Kellsie’s spine, trying to soothe her. He still held her wrist in his other hand and brought it to his lips again for a kiss. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He hated that he’d had to. But her life was more important than a bruise or two.

  “I really think you are.” She sighed. “I don’t get you. On one hand, you’re crazy. On the other, you’re not really violent.”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  She nodded and slowly tugged on her wrist. He let it go, though he wanted to keep holding on to it, to her.

  “You could have hurt me many times since I woke in the cave, but you haven’t. Why don’t you take me back to my trailer and we’ll call it even. I won’t tell anyone about what happened.”

  Disappointment gnawed at his soul. What had he expected? That she’d immediately believe what he was telling her. He was a stranger. He was an ancient warrior and she was a modern woman. Of course she would think him mad.

  The world no longer believed in his kind, if they did the Lady would have had the power to free herself years ago. On the other hand, Hades might have gained all the power he needed to take over the world if people still worshiped the old gods. He’d seen it, sensed it happening over the years as belief in the unseen, the magical, gave way to the rise of science and technology.

  His instincts were screaming at him to get her as far away from the carnival as possible. That was Hades’ battlefield, his ground. Yet there really was no choice. If he couldn’t find some way to make her believe him, she would fight him for the next twenty-four hours. He glanced up at the night sky. Probably less than that now. More like twenty-one hours.

  “What would it take to prove to you I’m telling the truth?”

  “I don’t know.” Her honestly flayed him.

  He thought for a moment. “How about if I sneak you back into the carnival and
we find the carousel and the bear is gone? Would that do it?”

  She tilted her head to one side, emphasizing her stubborn jaw. “Sure. Yeah, that would do it.”

  He knew she was lying and it cut him to his core. Never had he imagined not being trusted. His word was his bond. His honor was unassailable. That she questioned it hurt worse than he thought it would.

  He leaned down until their noses almost touched. She sucked in a breath and he tried not to notice how she smelled like lavender underneath the dirt and fear. “You’re lying.” He skimmed his lips over hers. She stilled as if afraid to move. He dragged his tongue over her bottom lip and she moaned. Her lips parted and he dipped inside quickly. He didn’t stay, for fear it was another ploy and he’d find his tongue bitten off.

  She squirmed beneath him, and when he eased his mouth away she followed. The kiss was gentle, yet potent. Marko felt it all the way to his toes. Lust was there. But so was something else. Something more. Something he didn’t have time to examine.

  Kellsie’s lips molded to his, welcoming his touch. His chest tightened and, deep inside him, something released. He tilted his head to get a better angle. She made a murmur of assent as he deepened the kiss. This time it was her tongue delving past his lips, tasting him.

  The surrounding forest, the curse, his fellow warriors, everything else vanished as Kellsie touched him. She tasted like the finest wine, rich and full-bodied. Sweet. Spicy. Complex. When she withdrew her tongue, he followed it back to her mouth.

  His body tightened. His cock throbbed incessantly. His fingers itched to touch her, to mold her perfect breasts and tease their hard tips. He wanted to know what color her nipples were, if her pussy was hot and wet, what she found pleasure in, what she wanted from a lover.

  Reluctantly, he tore his lips from hers. Resting his forehead against hers, he sucked in much needed air. There was no time for physical pleasures. Not with so much at stake. Maybe after. If they survived.

  That thought was as good as a dip in a cold mountain lake. Marko eased back and found Kellsie watching him. A thought struck him then. It was so obvious he didn’t know why he hadn’t immediately thought of it. He blamed it on the overwhelming sensations lashing his body after all the years of imprisonment. Coupled with the sensual impact of Kellsie, it was no wonder he couldn’t think straight.

  “I know how to convince you.” He pushed himself up, ignoring how his erection rubbed against her mound, ignoring her gasp and his silent moan.

  “How?” Kellsie scrambled to her feet.

  He could still feel the tingle of her lips and tongue. Her exquisite taste and tantalizing scent would haunt him forever. “You don’t believe I’m a shapeshifter, a bear.” He didn’t wait for her answer, already knowing what it would be. “Watch.”

  To win the battle for his soul, he may have to sacrifice the woman who set him free.

  Night of the Tiger

  © 2013 N.J. Walters

  Hades’ Carnival, Book 1

  Aimee Horner lives and breathes her career as a graphic novel illustrator, but she never expected it would invade her dreams. In recent months, worsening nightmares have pulled her into the darkest corners of Hell.

  On a rare night out with friends at a traveling carnival, she finds herself strangely drawn to an abandoned carousel adorned with vividly exotic animals. One steed, a massive white tiger, is a temptation she can’t resist. The moment she climbs upon him, her world changes forever.

  More than five thousand years ago, Roric and his fellow shapeshifting warriors were imprisoned in their animal forms, a last-ditch effort by the goddess they served to save them from the horrors of Hell.

  With one special woman’s touch, he has a chance at freedom and redemption—but the clock is ticking. If he is still alive in twenty-four hours, the spell will be broken, and Hell will have no claim on his soul. The only hitch is his blazing attraction to Aimee. If only he could trust that she isn’t merely a distraction sent by Hades—luscious bait to lure him from his mission.

  Warning: This book contains an ancient curse, an imprisoned goddess, a graphic artist and the hot shapeshifting immortal warrior who turns her life upside down while they battle Hades and his minions for their immortal souls. There is also plenty of hot sex between the heroine and her hot, shapeshifting warrior. Just saying.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Night of the Tiger:

  Dreaming. She was dreaming. Sighing, Aimee began to relax, much happier with this turn of events. She shuddered, hating the sensation of falling through the air, the pure helplessness of it.

  There was something niggling at the back of her brain. Something important. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch, it irritated her. She could almost remember but the next second it slipped away. It was totally forgotten as he tightened his grip around her and his lips grazed the side of her neck.

  His mouth was warm and supple against her skin. Tingles skated down her neck and spread out over her breasts. Her nipples puckered, aching to be touched.

  Sighing, Aimee sank deeper into his embrace, feeling safe and not so alone for the first time in years. He was so warm, his skin almost hot next to hers. He was…naked. And so was she.

  The sensation jolted her. She always wore a nightgown to bed.

  Just a dream,” she whispered to herself. It didn’t matter that both of them were totally bare. It wasn’t often she had a good dream, so she needed to enjoy this one to the max.

  What if it wasn’t a dream? Tension crept up her spine, disturbing her sense of contentment and bringing with it a sense of growing unease.

  Of course it’s a dream, she assured herself. It had to be. The only man who’d been near her bed in about a decade was the one in her dream. And even he’d never quite made it into the darn thing.

  Still, she knew she would never fully relax if she didn’t test her theory and find out for certain. If this was a dream, she’d be able to open her eyes and he would still be here. Carefully, she turned her head toward him and cracked one eye open. Although it was still night, dawn was breaking in the east, and the pale light illuminated the rather large man in bed with her. When he didn’t disappear, she opened her other eye.

  Yup, it was the same man from her previous dream, and he was even more handsome than she remembered. Even half asleep, his features appeared harsh and unforgiving. Tough was the word that described him best. His forehead was wide, his cheekbones high. His nose was broad, yet somehow suited his face. His eyes were closed, emphasizing the long, black lashes that fanned against his cheeks. They should have softened his face, but somehow they just served to call attention to his masculinity even more.

  Thick, soft hair tumbled down his shoulders. Unable to resist, she reached out her hand and stroked her fingers through it. It was incredibly soft, the texture different from any other hair she’d ever touched. It felt almost fluffy, like fur. The light parts weren’t blond, but white. And running through it were thin stripes of black. He had the most amazing hair color.

  As she continued to stroke his hair, a rumble of pleasure rose from deep in his chest. She felt the vibration against her skin and it warmed her from head to toe. It sounded almost like a purr. She grinned. She didn’t think he’d appreciate being compared to a giant housecat. No, not a housecat—that was much too tame for a man as elemental as this one. He’d be wild, like a giant lion or maybe even a tiger.

  She felt a connection to the stranger, felt surprisingly safe with him. But of course, in the end, he was nothing but a figment of her very impressive imagination. She barely stifled a giggle. She felt almost punch-drunk. Well, it was her dream. She could feel any way she wanted to.

  Satisfied with her assessment, Aimee continued her perusal. The quilt was tucked around his waist, leaving his impossibly wide chest and shoulders bare. She slid her fingers over the thick cords of his neck down to his immense shoulders.

  Continuing her journey, she traced her fingers over his massive biceps. An intricate band was tattooed around it
. Aimee had never seen anything like it. The ink was vibrant and it seemed to be ancient writing of some sort, rather than just a symbol.

  She peered up at him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing even and deep.

  Emboldened, she shifted again so that she was resting on her side. The perfect specimen of manhood beside her conveniently rolled onto his back, giving her unrestricted access to him. A quick glance reassured her that his eyes were still closed.

  He released a slow sigh and his breathing steadied. She waited a moment or two, but thankfully, he seemed to drift back to sleep. Which was fine with her. It gave her the opportunity to explore the bounty laid out before her. Bands of muscle corrugated his torso. She’d never seen a man so ripped, not even in magazines or on television. Yet he wasn’t muscle-bound.

  Reaching out, she tentatively touched his chest. Sleek, supple muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as he shifted and settled himself more comfortably against the mattress. Aimee paused in her exploration, waiting until he was still once more.

  He was so warm he was almost hot. Aimee flattened her palm against his chest and felt the heavy thud of his heart beating against it. A light dusting of black hair covered his torso before angling downward and disappearing beneath the quilt. It was almost exactly like the hair on his head—smooth and silky. It was ridiculous just how soft his hair was, especially when compared to the rest of him.

  Aimee slipped her fingers down the center of his chest and circled his bellybutton. The quilt shifted and something nudged her hand. She glanced down and her breath caught in her throat. He was aroused. There was no mistaking the hard, thick bulge for anything else.

  Pride of the Lion