Sleeping in her van was uncomfortable, but she hadn’t been sleeping well in general for the past few weeks anyway—van or no van. Her dreams had been bright, loud, and persistent. It was the dreams that got her to change her plans and come to New Orleans instead of San Francisco.
She’d always considered the tiger her spirit animal or personal totem. She’d dreamt of tigers her entire life, and the dreams were strongest when she was at a crossroads or needing comfort. When she turned eighteen she even got a tattoo of a tiger on her lower back. It lay along the top of her ass and looked at the world through glowing yellow eyes—just like it often did in her dream.
Her mother, of course, freaked out, and that was the last straw before she was kicked out. She’d been on her own ever since, living like a gypsy, roaming from city to city, and reading palms along the way to earn her keep.
A few weeks before her scheduled move to San Francisco, she dreamt of her tiger, but for the first time—he spoke. He told her to come to New Orleans. The animal never actually moved his lips and spoke—but she heard him—his deep, smooth baritone whispered, calling her here.
Lillian tied her wavy blond hair back with an elastic band from the pocket of her jean jacket as a cool gust of wind whipped her ankle-length skirt around her legs. She tripped, almost falling in the middle of the street. Her face heated with embarrassment as she looked around to see if anyone noticed because the activity increased as she moved closer to the French Quarter.
Satisfied that nobody saw her typical clumsy move, she let out a sigh of relief. Stranded and homeless was bad enough, but falling on her face in public would add insult to injury. As she unfurled the batik skirt from her legs, the treacherous voice of self-doubt nibbled away.
Why had she listened to that voice in her dream? Why didn’t she go to college and settle down like her mother always wanted her to? Why did she always follow her gut instinct and listen to talking tigers in her dream?
Look where it got her. Alone and essentially homeless.
“What a dope.” She hugged her jacket closed against the surprisingly brisk wind and wondered if she was doing the right thing.
From Untamed
Why wouldn’t her legs go any faster? Her lungs burned with effort, and sweat dripped down her back as she stumbled blindly through the fog-laden woods. He was right behind her. Always. His energy signature, the spiritual fingerprint that was so distinctly his, rolled around her in the mists. Behind her. Above her. In front of her.
He was everywhere.
His energy enveloped her, but still—she couldn’t see him.
Layla’s breath came in heavy, labored gasps, and a bare branch caught in her long, curly red hair as she tripped over a log. She pulled the tangled strands away, swore softly, and ducked behind the trunk of a giant old elm tree. Layla pressed herself up against it, praying he wouldn’t see her. In response to her silent plea, the fog in the dream realm thickened and provided additional shelter from her relentless hunter.
She’d been able to avoid him so far, but tonight it felt as if he was dreadfully close to finding her—and claiming her. His powerful energy swamped her and stole from her lungs what little breath she had left. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that the tree and the fog would swallow her up. Could she do that? Could she control the environment of the dream that much? Just as she was about to try, an unfamiliar voice tumbled around her.
Why do you run from me? The smooth, deep baritone flooded her mind and filled every ounce of her being in a shockingly intimate way. The sharp pang of desire zipped through her and made her breasts tingle. The sudden onslaught caught her off guard and had her head spinning.
Layla froze.
He’d never spoken to her before. She could barely hear him above the rapid pounding of her heart and wondered for a moment if she’d imagined it.
You did not imagine it. His voice had become irritatingly calm. Please answer my question. Why do you run away from me? That distinctly male voice rumbled through her. It reverberated in her chest just like the deep bass beat of one of her favorite songs. Why are you afraid of me? Amusement laced his voice and floated around her in the fog.
That did it. Now she was pissed. He was laughing at her? First he haunts her sleep every night for the past two weeks, and now he’s making fun of her? Oh, hell no! Layla’s eyes snapped open, and she expected to find him—whoever he was—standing right in front of her. However, she was met only with the thick fog she’d created.
I’m not afraid of you. She placed her hands on her hips and looked around at the swirling mist. Layla tilted her chin defiantly. I just don’t want anything to do with you. So why don’t you piss off!
Rich, deep laughter floated softly around her. You make it sound as if there is a choice in the matter.
You bet your bossy ass there is. Layla shouted boldly into the gray abyss. I decide my fate. Me. Layla Nickelsen. She pointed at her chest with her thumb. Me. Not you or anybody else.
She waited. The beautiful sound of silence encircled her. Was he gone? She sharpened her focus and found him quickly. No. His energy still permeated the dream but had lessened. He had backed off? Interesting.
Layla stepped away from the tree, and the fog retreated in response. She steadied her breathing as her heartbeat slowed to a normal pace. A victorious look came over her face as she found herself gaining control. She pushed her hair off her face and watched the familiar woods where she had grown up come slowly into focus. A satisfied smile curved her lips; she nodded and made a hoot of triumph. Fate can kiss my ass.
The words had barely left her mouth when two strong arms slipped around her waist and pulled her against a very tall, hard, and most definitely male body. Stunned and uncertain of what else he might do, Layla stayed completely still and glanced down to discover that her hands rested on two much larger ones. She could feel his heartbeat against her back as it thundered in his chest and thumped in perfect time with hers.
He dipped his head, and warm, firm lips pressed an unexpectedly tender kiss along the edge of her ear. Luminous heat flashed through her with astonishing speed, making her breasts feel heavy, and sending a rush of heat between her legs. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from sinking back into his strong, seductive embrace. Her body’s swift reaction was positively mortifying. She shivered, bit her lower lip, and fought the urge to turn around and kiss him. Why, and how, could she be turned on like this? Layla stiffened with disgust at her lack of self-control and her body’s obvious attraction to his.
You cannot outrun your destiny. His surprisingly seductive voice dipped low, and his breath puffed tantalizingly along the exposed skin of her neck. She closed her eyes and tried to fight the erotic sensations, but it was like trying to stop the tide as it throbbed through her relentlessly. And for future reference, Firefly, the only one kissing your ass—or anything else on your beautiful body—will be me. He released her from the confines of his embrace and disappeared with the mist.
***
The shrill ring of the motel’s wake-up call tore her from sleep. Without even looking, Layla picked up the receiver and slammed it down harder than necessary. For the first time in a long time, she hadn’t wanted her dream to end. That was a switch. She pushed herself up onto her elbows and blew the bed-head hair out of her face. She looked around the cheap motel room and squinted at the sun that streamed so rudely into her room.
“Why can’t the damn curtains ever close all the way in these places?” Her sleepy mumble echoed through the empty room. The memory of last night’s dream was still fresh and raw, which was painfully evident by the heat that continued to blaze over her skin. Layla flopped back down and threw her arm over her eyes. It looked like her bossy stalker was right.
There was no escaping fate.
“Shit.”
From Undone
White light pulsed and flickered through the club in time with the gritty dance music. The crowd of writhing bodies throbbed with the unmistakable energ
y of lust as they clamored for a connection—any connection. Hands wandered, looks were cast, and figures melded together, almost becoming one.
Maybe living like a human wouldn’t be that bad.
Marianna leaned back in the horseshoe-shaped VIP booth and watched the humans as they danced. The scene before her flickered rapidly between darkness to blinding, artificial light as the strobes flared. She observed couples as they disappeared into the crowd, losing themselves in the music, the sex in the air, and in the moment.
No conversations. Eyes closed.
No past. Bodies touching.
No future. Hips swaying.
No consequences.
Just now.
She sipped her champagne and crossed her bare legs as she witnessed the mating rituals that they participated in with relentless energy. They spent their lives looking for someone to ease the loneliness, with no idea who or what they were looking for. No predestined mate. No clan. No telepathy. No shapeshifting. No powers of visualization. Aging and eventually dying.
On second thought, living like a human was going to suck.
Marianna shuddered and took a swig of her champagne. As a pure-blooded Amoveo female from the Bear Clan, she should have found her mate by now, or he should’ve found her, but he hadn’t. Having past her thirtieth birthday, she could already feel her Amoveo abilities waning, and if she didn’t find her mate soon, they would disappear altogether, and she would have to live, for all intents and purposes, as a human.
Mateless. Powerless. Alone.
Yup, she thought, sighing heavily, it was going to suck.
The bass beat vibrated the tabletop beneath her fingers. Hayden sat next to her with his arm draped behind her, wearing his usual air of irritating arrogance. She wanted to tell him where he could stick it, but instead, opted for ignoring him as much as possible.
He hated this place—most Amoveo did because it was owned and operated by vampires—but of course, that’s exactly why she came here. Up until tonight, hanging out at The Coven had been a surefire way to keep Hayden and the rest of the Amoveo out of her hair. Apparently, his desire to try and get her to mate with him overrode his innate disgust of vampires.
“I have to admit, Hayden,” she said over the music. “I’m more than a little surprised that you came to The Coven tonight.”
Marianna glanced at him over the rim of her glass and offered him a tight smile. She could still connect with any Amoveo telepathically, but didn’t necessarily want to. She didn’t care for being next to him in the booth, so the last thing she wanted to do was invite him into her head.
“You practically live here now.” He drained the rest of his scotch. “Although I can’t fathom why.”
He didn’t look at her, but leveled his dark eyes at the humans who passed by their table. Marianna noticed how hard and unforgiving his features were. Hatred and contempt oozed off him like bad cologne and stuck in her throat. She knew most women found him handsome, but she thought he was far too much of an asshole to be attractive.
Hayden was a self-entitled tool who rode his father’s coattails with obnoxious ease and made no secret that he wanted her for himself. He wasn’t her predestined mate, and he knew it as well as she did, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Unfortunately.
“Olivia is my friend, Hayden. If I’m going to go clubbing in the city, then I may as well go someplace where I’m friends with the owner.” She narrowed her eyes and struggled to keep her voice even. She didn’t want to fight with him. She just wanted him to go away. “I like sitting at the VIP booth and doing a bit of people-watching.”
“Your friend? She’s a vampire,” he said with contempt. “Vampires are dirty, disgusting creatures. They drink the blood of humans, which makes them no better than humans. In fact, it makes them worse and puts them far below us on the evolutionary chain. If it weren’t for you, I would never step foot in a place like this.”
At that moment, a young human girl with dark, heavy eye makeup sauntered by the table and gave Hayden what was surely her most seductive look. Clad in a tiny black dress, fishnets, and several tattoos, she looked like a regular here at The Coven. She ran one hand through her long dark hair and winked at Hayden as she swayed to the music.
Hayden promptly looked away and inched closer to Marianna. The girl shot him a dirty look and turned her attentions to another clubgoer who had almost as many tattoos as she did. Moments later, they were absorbed into the dancing mob.
“As for your people-watching,” he sneered, “I could do without it. I may as well be at a farm watching pigs wallow in mud.”
Your friend looks a tad uncomfortable. Olivia’s voice touched her mind gently, and Marianna suppressed a grin. She scanned the club and found Olivia behind the bar with her two bartenders—both vamps. Her bright red hair made her easy to spot in the sea of black. Olivia was the owner of the club, the head of this all-female vampire coven, and one of Marianna’s best friends.
He’s not my friend, and you know it, but I’m thrilled that he’s squirming, Marianna thought back with a smirk. You have to come over here soon. It will annoy him and hopefully get him to leave.
He’s not bad looking, but you obviously loathe him, and you already told me he’s not your mate, so why even bother? Olivia continued to make drinks and tend customers without missing a beat. Tell him to fuck off.
Let’s just say it’s politics. She gripped her champagne flute and gave a slanted glance toward Hayden. I have no interest in picking sides in this stupid civil war that my people started. However, I’m getting tired of playing nice. Now be a good friend. Get your ass over here, and flash him your fangs.
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Tall, Dark, and Vampire
by Sara Humphreys
She always knew Fate was cruel…
The last person Olivia expected to turn up at her club was her one true love. It would normally be great to see him‚ except he’s been dead for centuries. Olivia really thought she had moved on with her immortal life‚ but as soon as she sees Doug Paxton‚ she knows she’d rather die than lose him again. And that’s a real problem…
But this is beyond the pale…
Doug is a no-nonsense cop by day‚ but his nights are tormented by dreams of a gorgeous redhead who’s so much a part of him‚ she seems to be in his blood. When he meets Olivia face-to-face‚ long-buried memories begin to surface. She might be the answer to his prayers…or she might be the death of him.
Praise for Untamed:
“The characters are well-developed, the twists and turns of the plot are well-crafted, and the situations are alternately funny, action-packed, and sensual.” —Fresh Fiction
“An excellent paranormal romance with awesome world-building and strong leads.” —The Romance Reviews
For more Sara Humphreys, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
Acknowledgments
As always, a big shout-out to my editor, Deb Werksman! Thank you for your support, patience, and understanding. Most of all, I thank you for giving me my first book contract. Many thanks to the rest of the editorial team: Susie, Eliza, Skye, and Cat!
Thank you to Danielle J. for her publicity efforts and the amazing art department at Sourcebooks. I love my covers!!
Big hugs to my agent, Jeanne Dube! As a working mom with four children, you definitely “get me.” Thanks for everything!
Thanks to the various community relations managers at Barnes & Noble who are always willing to have me in for book signings.
I, of course, have to thank my awesom
e street team gals and guys—Sara’s Angels. You are awesome, and I’m so blessed to have you in my corner.
Last, but certainly not least, my biggest shout-out goes to my husband and our four sons. What on earth would I do without all of you? I love you madly.
About the Author
Sara Humphreys graduated from Marist College with a degree in English literature and theater. She started her career as an actress. Her credits include Guiding Light, As the World Turns, and Rescue Me. She specializes in public speaking, presentation development, and communication skills training. But she has loved romance novels and sci-fi/fantasy for years, beginning with Star Trek (she had a huge crush on Captain Kirk). She is now married to her college sweetheart, with whom she has four boys and two “insanely loud” dogs. They live just outside of New York City, a perfect inspiration for things that go bump in the night.
Sara’s fascination with sci-fi/fantasy eventually grew into a love for all paranormal creatures, including ghosts, shapeshifters, and the undead. She considers herself a hopeless romantic and a sucker for happy endings.
Sara’s first manuscript caught the eye of a major national bookseller, who championed her publishing career. Sara utilizes her acting skills during her writing, using sense-memory recall and creating backgrounds for her characters so they have a history. Even for shapeshifters, she researches the animals and utilizes their natural traits in her characters as they take on their forms.
You can find information about upcoming books on her website: www.sarahumphreys.com.
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