by Gina Kincade
Ambra leaned in, her expression mischievous. “So I take it you didn’t rate any lip action?”
“You know me. I’m not a shallow person.” She hated the defensive tone that had crept into her voice. “If he’d had the personality he’d displayed on the Internet, the fact he owned a set of very large teeth along with a receding hairline wouldn’t have mattered one bit.” Roxanne grabbed a few peanuts from a bowl and set them on the table, lining them up in the shape of a pair of lips.
“But...?” Ambra prompted.
“I won’t kiss a man who displays a picket fence that could easily surround an entire yard in his mouth,” Roxanne said, the words tumbling from her lips in a rush. She groaned and covered her face with her hands, then dropped them in despair. “God! That sounded horrible. I’m going to burn in hell. But a girl should have certain standards.”
Ambra laughed, clutching her sides. Moisture brightened her eyes. “Yes,” she gasped. “You are gonna burn. Welcome to my world, honey. Half the fun is getting there! I wonder if Hades will be as hot as they predict.”
Roxanne smirked as Ambra wiped the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “Very funny. I got stuck paying for dinner. After the two bottles of wine he’d ordered to go with his steak, the bill was not cheap, either. He said he’d forgotten his wallet.”
All laughter left Ambra’s face. “Well, that sucks! Another jerk. They seem to have their radar trained on you.”
“That’s me, a regular old loser magnet!” Roxanne tucked her hair behind her ear and frowned. “But no longer. Once this Manifesto is complete, I will be in dating heaven, along with any other woman who’d like some dating advice.” She grasped a small worn leather journal from her purse. Opening to an animated monkey bookmark, she dragged a red-tipped fingernail halfway down the page. “OK. Next is the speed-dating round at that fireman hangout.”
“Oh! That ought to be a real hardship!” Ambra flashed a sly smile. “All that testosterone in one room, just waiting to be tapped and displayed under a microscope!” She fanned her face with her hand.
Roxanne smiled. “Sounds good to me. I ought to get a few good specimens to add to my study. I figure twenty to thirty ought to be a good-sized number. I’m fifteen days into my little project and have”—she glanced at her journal—“twelve participants so far. This has been so easy. Especially since the entire endeavor is not about love or commitment, but finding the right men to date.” She slapped her journal closed with a satisfied click. “I could probably finish the research portion by the end of the month. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me, too.” Ambra glanced around the jam-packed room. “There are dozens of eligible men in here. Why not add one or two now? No sense wasting a night.” Her arm swept toward the bar. “With the run of bad luck you’ve been having in the man department, what you need is a lot of hot, sweaty sex. Remember: no strings. No commitments. Just plain, old, heart—pumpin’ sex, with volcanic orgasms of monumental proportions. Why not pick one?”
Heat and slow pulses fluttered between Roxanne’s thighs. If Ambra could provoke a mini-orgasm just by painting a mere image, it had been way too long since she’d experienced the real thing. She squeezed her knees together, squelching the sensation while keeping her eyes trained on her friend’s face.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she continued. “The Mattress Mambo! Take your research a step further.”
“Take one for the team, all in the name of science, huh?” Roxanne laughed at Ambra’s melodrama. God, this was just what she needed. She was glad she agreed to come out with her girlfriend tonight.
Lately, she’d been feeling sorry for herself. Her personal life sucked. The last time she had an orgasm was... She tapped her chin, unable to recall the moment. Obviously, whenever it’d been, it hadn’t been that memorable. All the more reason to complete her “manifesto”, entitled A Girl’s Guide to Avoiding Dating Pitfalls.
She sighed. Her gaze searched the dimly lit bar. There were couples huddled together, absorbed in intimate conversations. A cheer erupted amongst those watching a football game on the big screen television mounted along one wall. More people crowded on the dance floor, getting their groove on to a tune rocking from the jukebox.
Many familiar faces were in attendance at the bar, a favorite hangout of Phoenix’s finest EMS crew. Roxanne’s job as an emergency room nurse brought her into contact with paramedics, police, firemen, and doctors. So why hadn’t she been able to find a nice eclectic group of men to date? Why, as Ambra had so succinctly pointed out earlier, did all the losers have their radar trained on her? She dismissed those dreary thoughts. The first strains of the Police’s “Roxanne” poured from the jukebox.
Roxanne grimaced, meeting her friend’s serious gaze.
“Oh, God! I absolutely hate this song. Not Sting, mind you. We could do the Mattress Mambo any time,” she joked. “But couldn’t he have used another name besides mine?”
“Never mind Sting,” said Ambra. As she grabbed her martini glass, the silver bracelets lining her slender arm jingled. She downed the contents and Roxanne saw how her friend’s eyes watered. Ambra set the glass on the table, a determined tilt to her chin. “Now. We have to get your mind in the gutter, and find you a man to use and abuse.”
“Forget that,” Roxanne disagreed. “We need to discuss the remaining categories left to round out my research––”
Without warning, a nearby falsetto voice cut into the air and sang the opening line in perfect harmony with Sting. “Roxxxannne...”
About The Author
USA TODAY BESTSELLING Author Kathleen Grieve is a full time nurse, amateur cake baker, writer, and zombie obsessed, Kathleen draws a lot from the real-life medical drama she experiences as a RN for her novels. Writing romance is a creative outlet where she can effectively deal with the daily stress and sorrow, adding levity and humor to situations that provide a happily ever after when there isn't one. She has recently discovered the fantastic world of air ambulance after 20+ years of working critical care in the hospital and relishes her role as a flight nurse!
Find More by Kathleen Grieve
Dating 911
Dating Impossible
The Doctor's Deception
AfterDark Online Free Read Available Now ~Decadent Medicine
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Symphony of Night
by Julie Morgan
Copyright © 2016 Julie Morgan
Julie Morgan, Author
Edited by Chelly Peeler
Cover by Desiree DeOrto
The veil has lowered and the human race now realizes they are not alone. We live among the supernatural, but there’s a catch: you only see them if you have the supernatural gene. My name is Jac and I’m the last Valkyrie.
My best friend and guardian, Rowan, is a gargoyle. The portal to our world closed, trapping the supernatural on earth. Word is out about a stone with powers to open it. It’s not just any stone, it is THE stone.
Tasked by Archangel Michel to find it, I know I’m going to need help. Humans already wants us out of their realm. If the stone falls into the wrong hands, all hell will break loose. Samuel, the first of the Fallen, wants the stone and plans on using it to his advantage.
When chaos erupts, the humans will find justification for their fears, and the supernatural will be forced to fight back. My allies are few, and my enemies great. Will I be able to stop Samuel and save the world, or will we be lost along with the humans?
Chapter One
TWO HUNDRED YEARS have passed since our worlds collided. Earth is no longer alone in the universe, this much we know. However, discovering what...or maybe who...joined our midst was not what we considered, alien.
Supernatural beings in human form had long sense been a part of the human race since the dawn of time. It was only
in the last two centuries, we humans, discovered their existence.
The veil was lowered.
The worlds collided.
The barrier exploded.
The doorway to their world closed.
The last one struck a hard chord inside my body. The doorway is permanently closed. What, exactly, does that mean? Can these creatures not return to their planet, or had earth been theirs before the coming of Adam and Eve?
No hard evidence has been brought forth to claim one race over the other. When the veil had been lowered, however, it was the human race who threatened to raise war on the unknown. The unknown. It seems so informal now looking back on history.
How can a country declare war on itself? How can one part of the world destroy the other half? How can you declare war on an enemy you can’t even see? You can’t, well at least you shouldn’t.
That is where I come in. My name is Jacqueline Osbourne, Jac for short. I’m part of this world and I have no idea where I fit in. I’m Valkyrie and I have yet to discover what my powers actually do. I mean, I know what they do, and know what I could be capable of. I just have not actually learned how to do it, at least not yet.
I seem to be the only one of my kind in existence left. The other females have apparently died in their lives on earth. From what I understand, only females can be born a Valkyrie. This is what my best friend, Rowan, tells me. He’s a supernatural creature as well; he’s a Gargoyle. His name, Rowan, means compassion, tendency is to finish whatever he starts. He is tolerant and likes to help humanity. He is very active...and very attractive. He is generally warmhearted and gives freely of his time, energy, and sympathetic understanding. He has tolerance and acceptance of the frailties of others.
Every bit of his name meaning is Rowan. He is a Gargoyle through and through, and model swoon worthy at that. The man has a body like a Greek God. He possess one when he’s stone. When he shifts, his head is that of an eagle, his body and back legs become lion, as well as a lion’s tail. His front legs are eagle’s talons and he has wings. He also informed me that when he’s fighting in war, his body may be consumed by fire and used as a weapon.
Rowan has been by my side since I was brought into the world. He looked over me while I was in the orphanage and the day I was adopted, he followed me home. Rowan tells me he’s close to four hundred years of age, but if he were to compare it to human years, he would be somewhere around twenty-seven.
I, myself, am twenty-five human years. In Valkyrie years, I’m much older. I lost count as our body regenerates upon dying in battle. I do not recall who I was in my former lives, but every now and then, I’ll have a dream and I think my subconscious is trying to tell me who I am.
Rowan is tall, close to six foot four, dark blond hair and deep blue eyes. The color reminds me of an evening storm settling into the twilight. He has this personality of not giving a shit what others think, and always tries to make me laugh.
He’s truly my best friend. Sometimes I find him staring at me and when I call him on it, he denies anything. When my girlfriend, Gretchen, told me she thinks he may like me, more than a friend, I told her she was insane. But sometimes, I can see it in his eyes, the longing.
Startled from my thoughts when a bell rang in the background, I’m think of Rowan and Gretchen. “Maybe I should hook you two up instead.” A slight twinge of jealousy plagued my mind and I thought better of it. Straitening my light pink sleeveless top, I smiled as a customer entered my shop.
I work in a pawn shop in downtown New Orleans. The work pays pretty good and helps me in paying off my student loans. Loans of a degree I’m not using. Awesome, right?
As the customers come into view, I realize they are not just customers, they are supernaturals, or sup’s as some of us call them. Rowan is one of them and the other is a tall, dangerously handsome, angelic in every possible way, one of the Archangels.
It is all I can do to just smile without drooling.
“Keep it in your pants, Osbourne,” Rowan teases with a raised brow.
My throat clears and I find myself standing a little taller in stature. “Whatever,” I whisper back. Offering a smile to the Archangel, “How may I be of assistance today?”
The angel steps forward, his wings brilliant behind him while his aura of red glows softly around him. His eyes stare into my own and for a moment, I fear I may jump over the counter and attack him.
“I need some information, please,” he began.
“Okay, I’ll definitely try. I can take a good guess to your name, but would you mind telling me who you are?”
He smiled and my goodness did the hair on my body stand to attention. “You may call me Michael.”
“I knew it!” I exclaimed, then calmed myself after the look of death was received from Rowan. “I mean, I had assumed you were him, well you were you. Whatever. How may I help you, Michael? Would you like a latte?”
He shook his head no and leaned on the counter, then motioned for me to come closer. No problem there. I leaned toward him and inhaled gently, taking in the scent of ginger, cinnamon, and what could only be described as morning sunrise. I smiled.
“What I need is a stone and I heard you may have access to such things.”
I glanced to Rowan who nodded once, then back to Michael. This was no ordinary visit. First an Archangel, which usually meant trouble was in your midst. Now said Archangel wants one of the stones.
“I have stones. Is there one in particular you may be looking for?” I nibble on my bottom lip, a nervous habit I picked up as a child. I glance over to Rowan for a moment and he managed to raise a brow to me.
I mouth, What?
He shook his head while rolling his eyes.
I mouth, Bitch, and he can only smirk.
Michael glanced from Rowan then back to me. “I am looking for a Hag stone.”
“A hag stone?” I ask him softly.
Michael raised his brow again as he leaned in closer. “No, the Hag stone.”
Swallowing hard and lower my gaze, I pull away from the counter and glance sideways to Rowan. I find him watching me and if I were to say no, and my life were to be in jeopardy, he would instantly save me, getting me out of harms way.
Instead, I take a deep breath and right myself, then look back to Michael. “I don’t have it.”
“What?” he asked with slight irritation in his tone and the red in his aura intensified.
I shook my head and made myself stand tall. “I do not have it...here.” I never lie, and would never lie to an Archangel, but I just did. I don’t have the stone and I have no idea where it might be, but I cannot tell him this!
“Right,” he mumbled and turned to face Rowan. “Find it and bring it to me.” He glanced back to me, then to Rowan once more. “There is another war coming and this time, I cannot protect you from it. If this comes to pass, we all fight, not just Heaven and Hell.” Michael turned toward the exit and left us alone. Well, alone in the sense it was only Rowan and myself at the counter. There were patrons in the shop but with the background café music, their headphones in place and constant chattering, it is highly doubtful anyone heard anything.
Hell, at least I hope.
“What was that all about?” I asked Rowan.
He shook his head and leaned onto the counter. His dark blue eyes seemed cloudy with thought. His hair hung slightly in his eyes. I reached forward and brushed it from his face. “Stop that,” he whispered with a smile. “It seems there is talk of war, once again, among the humans.”
“Rowan,” I sighed and leaned my back against the wall behind me, then crossed my arms over my chest. “We look just like them. They cannot see our true form unless we show them. How on earth will they know who they are attacking?”
He lowered his gaze and offered a slight shrug. “Probably someone turning on their own kind?” He looked up to me and continued. “The only way the humans could attack is if they had a target location, and the way the American military works, there is no way in H
ell anyone would fire first and ask questions later. If there is the possibility of any innocents in the area, no attacks would happen.”
“Wow,” I whispered and considered this for a moment. “What about countries, for a lack of better terms, gives no fucks?”
Rowan shook his head once more. “No fucks shall be given and we would definitely be attacked, no matter what.”
“So what’s to stop a third world country then?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why does Michael need the stone?”
“To guarantee our safety. He is looking for a way out. He is seeking solace back in our world, or possibly another.”
“What?” I exclaimed. “Seriously? How? I thought the portal had closed?”
“It did,” he told me, “but it seems something has been trying to tap through by sending some sort of cryptic message.”
“Wow, so Nancy Drew!”
Rowan tilted his head. “So who?”
“Oh, never mind. Stories I read in the homes I was in before the adoption went through. She was a sleuth who...”
Rowan interrupted me with a smile. “Jac?”
I sighed and smiled to him. “Yeah?”
“I don’t care.”
I waved him off. “Whatever. Can I get you something? I’m off in about an hour. We can start our looking for the Hag stone.”
“So long you keep that word to yourself. No one needs to know we’re looking for it.”
I nod in agreement, then begin to steam milk. As the steam rises around my face, I glance up to someone watching me, someone very familiar and someone I do not care to see, if ever again. Sighing, I shake my head and lower my gaze.
