Fire in the Blood: Bad Witch, Book 4

by Robyn Bachar

  “Why does that sound like a trap?” I asked.

  “Because it probably is,” Harvey replied.

  “What do you propose?” Faust asked, ignoring us.

  “You could stay here for the time being. Maxwell has been renovating the house upstairs, and there should be room for all of you,” Simon offered.

  I glanced at Harvey, and was certain that both of our expressions said, Trap! Faust and Simon eyed each other silently, and my high-speed faerie brain tried to list all the possible angles. As a chronicler I was sure that Simon would love to dissect both me and Harvey to discover the details of our transformation, but maybe Simon just wanted quality time to get to know his biological father. It seemed too sentimental for the man, but it was a strange, new world that we were living in… Nah. Dissection was more likely.

  Faust cocked his head. “At no charge? Free to come and go as we please?”

  “Of course. You would be my guests.”

  “Well there’s a concept for a wacky sitcom,” I said. Harvey snickered.

  “There is strength in numbers. It would be mutually beneficial,” Simon pointed out.

  Considering we were faced with hunters, vampires and enough demons to keep me busy until the apocalypse rolled around, he had a point. I turned to my honey, and he nodded.

  I shrugged. “Sure, sign us up.”

  What was the worst that could happen?

  About the Author

  Robyn Bachar was born and raised in Berwyn, Illinois, and loves all things related to Chicago, from the Cubs to the pizza. It seemed only natural to combine it with her love of fantasy, and tell stories of witches and vampires in the Chicagoland area. As a gamer, Robyn has spent many hours rolling dice, playing rock-paper-scissors and slaying creatures in MMPORGs.

  You can learn more about her at www.robynbachar.com. Robyn can also be found on Twitter at www.twitter.com/RobynBachar.

  Look for these titles by Robyn Bachar

  Now Available:

  Bad Witch

  The Importance of Being Emily

  Blood, Smoke and Mirrors

  Bewitched, Blooded and Bewildered

  Cy’ren Rising

  Nightfall

  Her heart says “never”. Her body says “now”.

  Nightfall

  © 2012 Robyn Bachar

  Cy’ren Rising, Book 1

  When a wounded runner stumbles into her workshop, sculptor Talena Spenser’s comfortable, quiet life is shattered. Aiding the escaped slave risks losing more than just her freedom. She is in phase, when Cy’ren females are overwhelmed by the drive to mate.

  Mordacki Loren, shadow sword of House Nightfall, knows the pain of losing a mate. He never intended to take another. But Talena, raised by humans with little knowledge of Cy’ren ways, leaves him no choice. As the mating lust consumes them, Dack promises to honor her wishes—even if that means letting her go.

  Scarred and hardened by a munitions accident that sent her Alliance career up in flames, Carmen Hawke joined the Cy’ren resistance as captain of the flagship Talon. When old flame Dack returns from a mission with Carmen’s childhood friend and first love, Talena, in tow, the temptation to allow someone—or two someones—close to her again cracks her emotional armor.

  Pursued by an unknown enemy, the trio works together to discover the secrets of Talena’s past, and to uncover a threat that could destroy the fragile peace of the Cy’ren homeworld.

  Warning: If the epic space battles, gunfights and swordplay aren’t enough to get you going, strap yourself in for a male-female-female threesome that’s scorching enough to fire your engines into overdrive.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Nightfall:

  Dack assumed it was luck that had turned his attention to Talena’s shop. Instead the subtle perfume of her pheromones must have drawn him there, like an invisible hook pulling him along through the corridors of the ship. He hadn’t noticed her scent before, distracted by pain and the stench of his own blood and singed flesh, but now it was clear. Warm and intoxicating, the effect wove through his body like the glow of a strong brandy.

  Damn.

  Talena’s golden eyes watched him warily, and her hesitation quieted some of the desire stirring in his veins, buying them time to talk. He thought he’d been rescuing a reluctant slave. He’d freed countless Cy’ren, and sometimes they were afraid of freedom at first, because they’d never known another life. Guilt flooded Dack at the realization that he’d kidnapped a free female, bringing her ruin instead of rescue.

  As the initial shock passed, he wondered why she had no familial marks. After a few generations many slaves no longer knew their houses, but they usually had a mark bearing a parent’s name. “You have no house?” he asked.

  “Not that I know of. I was separated from my family, and the ship I was on erased all their records when they were boarded.”

  “What’s your full name?”

  She bowed her head, and stray locks of her hair fell into her face. “I don’t know my Cy’ren name, if I had one. I don’t remember anything of my life before I was rescued. The doctors said it has something to do with trauma.”

  His heart sank. Poor girl. “My name is Mordackai Loren, shadow sword of House Nightfall.”

  Talena nodded, but he didn’t see any recognition in her expression. Being freed at such a young age, she might not know anything of their people. At least she would gain a house by becoming his mate. Dack sighed—he’d gone out of his way to avoid taking another mate after he lost Kira. It appeared fate had other plans.

  “How long until your ship arrives?” she asked.

  He glanced at the chronometer. “Four hours and ten minutes. If they aren’t delayed.” She flinched at the number, and he grimaced. He couldn’t avoid her for more than an hour, not in this small, enclosed space. Dack already felt an insistent need elbowing its way past the pain of his wound and the adrenaline of the gunfight. “I’m sorry, Talena. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

  She laughed, high and nervous. “You kidnapped me.”

  “With good intentions.”

  “Well, your good intentions have ruined my life. I was perfectly happy. I owned my own business. I had an offer to show my work in a gallery on an Alliance world. Now all I have left is this dress.” Talena glanced down at herself. “I don’t even like these shoes.”

  “I swear I will repay every credit you’ve lost. I’ll make sure you’re set up in a new business on a safe world.”

  Talena peered up at him through her pale lashes and his pulse raced. “How can you promise that? You’re a runner.”

  Dack smiled grimly. She really must not know anything about Cy’ren society. “I’m much more than that. You can trust me.”

  “Cy’ren can’t be trusted,” she said softly.

  “Is that why you haven’t chosen a mate?” She looked away, and he knew he was right. Dack shook his head—runners lived hard lives, and gave their people a bad reputation. With little or no education and nowhere to go, runners often became mercenaries, thieves, smugglers and worse.

  “How long have you been in phase?” he asked.

  “Seven months.”

  Dack suddenly felt very sorry for the other males aboard the Trident. They must have been going half mad with want of her from the constant scent of her in the air. The months couldn’t have been easy for Talena, either. Females were also affected by the phase, as it dramatically increased their sex drive. “How did you deal with the…urges?” he asked, curious.

  “Humans. It’s easy, aboard a cruise ship. There are always men—or women—looking for company during their trip.”

  He twitched with a surge of jealousy and took a deep breath to calm himself, but it only made the situation worse as he inhaled. The pheromones created a heady sweetness with a musky edge, custom tailored to tempt any Cy’ren male who caught the scent. Heat prickled across his skin like the burn of a fever, and Dack glanced at the shuttle’s temperature readout and saw it was normal. This sort
of heat wouldn’t register on the ship’s instruments. He shrugged off his duster and tossed it on the empty seat next to him. The shoulder holster followed—he didn’t want to appear threatening, and he didn’t want her to make a grab for his pistol and try to shoot him. He rose and moved toward her.

  “Don’t,” she warned. Talena shrank back into the corner, hugging her arms to her chest. “I don’t want to be owned by anyone, even a mate.”

  Dack paused. “I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t demand you do anything you don’t want to. You’re free to leave once we find a safe place for you.”

  “And I have your word on that, I suppose?” she said, eyeing him skeptically.

  “Yes. I won’t demand that you stay with me if you want to leave.”

  Her shoulders slumped, and she nodded. It was as close to acceptance as he was likely to get. Dack inched closer and knelt beside her. A slight tremor ran through him as he ached to touch her, but he held his hands still at his sides. Dack’s heart pounded and his hard sex strained against the fly of his pants, but he waited. Most males would take a female in phase without hesitation, but she’d resent him for it after the lust faded. Dack knew what it was to be owned, forced into an unwanted life by someone else, and he would be patient as long as possible.

  Though judging by the shudder that ran through his body, his patience wouldn’t last long at all.

  “I didn’t get a close look at your shop. You sell your own artwork?” he asked. His voice had dropped an octave, and he cleared his throat.

  Talena blinked. She was still wary of him, but the change of subject eased some of the tension from her pinched shoulders. “I carried my own work, but I offered a variety of other items. Souvenirs, mostly. I’m not well-known enough to live on my own art alone.”

  “What kind of art?”

  “Sculpture. Metalwork. I create organic things out of tech parts, like flowers out of wiring and birds out of gears and circuits. I like turning bits and pieces of broken machines into something new and beautiful.” Her eyes lit up as she discussed her passion, and Dack smiled.

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  “Since I was old enough to daydream in class about art instead of biology.” Her pale lavender skin darkened with a blush, and his breath caught. Gods, she was beautiful.

  “I never went to school, but I daydreamed about spaceships when I was young.” He raised a hand to touch her face, and she tensed. “May I?” he asked. “Please?”

  Talena eyed him for a moment before nodding her assent. Dack brushed his fingers across her cheek, his skin tingling at the contact, and then trailed his hand to rest against the unmarked side of her neck. His jaw clenched as he uncoiled her soft white hair from the strict bun that held it, and it fell in thick waves down her back. He wanted to plunge his hands into that hair, pull her head back and claim her mouth, but she stared up at him with wide golden eyes. Soon, but not yet.

  Dack swallowed a growl of desire. “Why don’t you like these shoes? They seem nice.” He placed a hand atop said shoes, and then caressed her bare ankles. Her skin was soft and silken, and she shivered and gasped at his touch. Talena’s gaze softened and her breath quickened as she shifted toward him slightly.

  She licked her lips. “They’re comfortable, but they’re not pretty.”

  “I hadn’t noticed. I’d rather look at your eyes than your shoes,” he said. She blushed again, smiling shyly, and he leaned in to kiss her as he knelt at her side. Talena was so close that Dack could feel the warmth radiating from her body, but he stopped abruptly before his lips brushed hers. “May I?” he asked again. The words were ground out from behind gritted teeth, but he managed them.

  “Yes,” she whispered in reply.

  He pounced, and her lips unraveled his control.

  All it takes is one weak seam for everything to fall apart

  A Patch of Darkness

  © 2012 Yolanda Sfetsos

  Sierra Fox, Book 1

  In a perfect world, Sierra Fox would have stayed away from the Council she left years ago. But in this world—where spirits have the right to walk among the living—it’s her job to round up troublesome spooks and bring them before that very same Council.

  Though her desk is piled high with open cases, she can’t resist an anonymous summons to a mysterious late-night meeting with a bunch of other hunters, each of whom seems to have a unique specialty. The news is dire: something is tearing at the fabric of the universe. If the hunters can’t find who or why in time, something’s going to give in a very messy way.

  As current cases, family secrets, new clues and her tangled love life slowly wind themselves into an impossible knot, Sierra finds herself the target of a power-sucking duo intent on stealing her mojo. And realizing she holds the key to the last hope of sealing the widening rift.

  Warning: Spook catching: may contain traces of ectoplasm and otherworldly nasties. Not recommended for those with allergies to ghosts, demons, and with boyfriends who think your power is theirs. While reading, avoid dark patches and stay to the light.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for A Patch of Darkness:

  It took me longer than I expected to find my way out of the cemetery. I got lost, thanks to several stranded spirits who hounded me even when I pretended I couldn’t see them. Every step managed to get me deeper and deeper into the concrete jumble of the buried dead. With my head filled with a thousand thoughts, I just couldn’t see straight.

  In the end, I had to jump the fence because the gates were locked and night had fallen. The 4WD parked in front of my car had left, so it probably did belong to Oren.

  I didn’t bother scouting the area to check if someone was following me or not. I was so mentally exhausted that I drove around without any sense of direction for an hour, eventually ending up at the office on pure instinct.

  Personal revelations are never a good thing, especially when they come from complete strangers who claim to know you and can successfully hide their true nature.

  What the hell was going on with my life?

  I’d ruined a potentially wonderful night with my boyfriend so I could meet an old guy with declarations that sounded more like riddles. And I’d almost managed to forget the real reason Oren called me there in the first place. The physical leak in the fibers was puzzling. At least I’d gotten that much from the incident.

  As for the statements regarding my power and Grandma, I’d think about them another time. At the moment, I was happy to sit in the dark alone, like a mushroom.

  “Are you in here, Fox?”

  I switched on the desk lamp when I recognized the voice calling out from behind the office door. “Yeah, come on in, Papan.”

  He pushed the door and entered with a smile on his handsome face. “Are you working late again, or were you secretly waiting for me to pop in?” The wink made my stomach flutter, forcing erotic images from the dream I’d had about him to the surface with a rush of heat.

  I sucked in a breath. “I wasn’t exactly working.”

  “Yeah, right, the workaholic tries to cover her tracks.” Papan laughed and I felt the sound more than heard it. Jason Papan is tall, in his early thirties, with dark blond hair and eyes the strangest shade of green I’ve ever seen. Sometimes they look a mossy green, others hazel, and even a little on the amber side. The shade changes depending on the light, just like Ebony’s choice of nail polish.

  “I could say the same about you.”

  “Of course you could. But unlike you, I actually have to work extra hours if I want to make ends meet.” He stopped near Ebony’s desk, and I couldn’t look away from the dimple on his left cheek. “And I’m always hoping that you decide to pay me a midnight visit, Foxy Lady.”

  I gulped. He likes to call me Fox, or Foxy Lady when he’s feeling flirtatious. I call him Papan, no matter how I’m feeling. Right now, I was feeling a little excited, still recalling bits and pieces of the naughty dream I’d had. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.

&
nbsp; “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked with a smirk.

  Papan fell into the chair usually occupied by Ebony and it squeaked beneath his weight. He stared at me from across the desks with an amused expression. That’s how he always looked at me. “It means that I wouldn’t mind if you paid me a visit wearing nothing but a trench coat and a nice pair of red heels.”

  “I don’t wear heels.”

  He closed his eyes and sat back. “In my fantasies, you wear heels quite often.”

  Heat warmed my face and I was glad we were almost in the dark. What the hell were we doing? As usual, he was teasing me. Though, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to his so-called fantasy.

  I cleared my throat. “So, Papan, what are you doing in the office tonight?”

  Papan opened his eyes and shrugged. That cheeky grin didn’t leave his lips and cute matching dimples now appeared on each cheek. Did he always have to look so sexy? “Oh, I don’t know, putting in some overtime…and still getting nowhere near as much as you spook catchers get paid. What I earn is peanuts compared to what you guys make per visit.”

  “Stop bitching, I know you’ve got clientele.” My insides were quivering. Why was he having this effect on me? Oh, who was I kidding? Papan always made my insides turn to jelly.

  “Which reminds me”—Papan took a deep breath, his face hidden by the shadows reflecting in from the windows behind me—“did that lady eventually come to you, a Mrs. Hocking?”

  “Yes, thanks for referring her. She’s got some freaky problems. Listen, did you ever uncover anything about this so-called cult she mentioned?” I needed any lead I could get at the moment. I was actually glad Papan had dropped in. At least he’d turned my focus back to something I could deal with—work. He might’ve started with cheekiness, but it looked like we were back on track.

  “Ah, I was wondering if she would mention it to you.” He pressed back against the chair, eyes still on mine. “When she approached me, it seemed to be her focal point. She raved on about how these mysterious people brainwashed her husband, stole his identity and eventually his life, but I think the person she should’ve suspected the most was him. He was into some heavy witchcraft. Honestly, you have to get out there, Sierra. All those books and apparatus, I didn’t know what the hell I was looking at. But I was able to find out that these people she called a cult are actually something very different.”