Night Song

by Sharon Cullen

  To Catch a Wolf

  © 2007 Colette Denee

  Five years ago Braith Merlow walked away from the love of his life, and it wasn’t by choice. Unable to tell her the reason why, he threw his things into a duffle bag, swung his leg over the seat of his motorcycle, and headed for sanctuary. The last thing he expects, after all this time, is to find her standing in his bedroom.

  Sorcha Lynnae wants only one thing from her former lover: the Masti. She needs the magical necklace to save her life, and the Vampyr Queen has given her two weeks to find it. When she steps out of Braith’s shower and into his arms, her “business-only” trip turns into pure pleasure.

  With their hearts on the line, Braith and Sorcha set out to pursue their separate agendas. A pinch of magic, a hint of lust, and they’re well on their way to catching a wolf.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for To Catch a Wolf:

  Braith left the bar and headed for home once again. Twice now he’d started to go, yet each time his feet found their own way back to the bar. His mind wasn’t on work. Indecision kept turning him around.

  Sorcha permeated his every thought, his every breath. Part of him was afraid to go home and find her gone once again, like a ghost. The other, larger part, feared she would still be there. Hell if he knew what to do with the woman, or what to say. Did Hallmark make a greeting card that read, “I’m sorry I abandoned you. Sorry I left you to them. Sorry I never told you the truth before I said goodbye. Now go home again before I do something stupid, like start kissing you and never stop”?

  Several minutes later, he pulled open the screen door to his house. He could hear the shower running, so he occupied himself with household chores until the water shut off. When he figured he’d stalled long enough, Braith walked into his bedroom.

  “Sorcha? I’m home,” he called by way of warning.

  She emerged from the bathroom wrapped in nothing but his small, blue bath towel. The swell of her breast rose above her fist, skin flushed a soft pink from the heat of the shower. The long lines of her tanned legs came together as she tried to keep her body hidden in the terry cloth. A blush stained her cheeks, deep enough to be seen even through the bruises. Sorcha cast an accusing glance his direction.

  “What?” He smiled and held up his hands in innocence. “I warned you I was here.”

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Not my fault.”

  “Yeah, well.” Her mouth quirked up on one side, and she crooked a finger, gesturing for him to turn around. He coughed and lowered his gaze to the floor instead.

  “My shirts are in the dresser over there. Second drawer. I might have an old pair of shorts in the bottom drawer too. If you’re interested.”

  “It’s either that or walk around naked, right?”

  Braith stared hard at the wood beneath his toes. His vote was the latter of the two choices. Not that his vote mattered. Her towel hit him in the head. With a smile, he laid it open over the door to dry and turned to find her tying up a pair of cut off sweat shorts. The dark blue T-shirt she chose dwarfed her lithe form. He watched her teeth nibble on her bottom lip as she worked the drawstring into some semblance of a knot. Damn, he wanted to go over and touch her more and more with each passing second.

  Sorcha smiled in his direction. “I don’t suppose you have a brush?”

  Braith nodded and pulled a brush from the top of his trunk. He had a few things of hers from when he swiped that dresser top five years ago. He just wasn’t willing to give them all back. Yet. “This one might look familiar.”

  He tossed the brush over and made the bed while she tended to her hair. His fingers itched to run through the silken locks, but she braided it back with a speed and ease that thwarted any such ideas. Straightening the pillows, he turned to go into the kitchen and almost ran right into her.

  “Damn, I forgot how quiet you move.” He laughed.

  She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Sorry. Thanks for taking me in.”

  The feel of her lips, her breath against his skin, sent a streak of need through Braith’s neglected soul. His fingers tightened of their own accord. Awareness flared in her eyes a second before he whispered her name and captured her mouth in a searing kiss.

  Drowning, he was drowning. And damn if he cared. A whimper slipped from her throat as her arms wound around his neck, bringing her body flush with his. Gods, how he missed the soft sounds she made when they kissed, touched, loved. Braith pulled her closer with a hand splayed at the small of her back. He kissed her like he never wanted it to end—a kiss to make up for the five years of his absence. Five long, grueling, wasted years. Over and over his lips moved against hers, seeking an entrance to taste what was hers alone.

  Her heart drummed against his chest, pounding out a rhythm that his own pulse picked up and joined. Warmth stole through every pore in his body. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this overwhelming sense of peace. Of relief. Of his soul rejoicing in the only place he could ever call home—Sorcha.

  “Gods, woman, I’ve missed you,” he said as she broke the kiss to nip along his jaw.

  Her teeth caught at the sensitive lobe of his ear and tugged until he bent his tall frame lower to grant her easier access. Sorcha traced the shell of his ear with the tip of her tongue. “Mmm…Braith.”

  His name on her lips pulled up memories he thought long buried. His eyes closed as the air rushed from his lungs, and he squeezed her tighter, silently willing the memories not to fade again.

  “I’ve missed you too, Brai.”

  The soft whisper wrung a growl from the depths of his throat. Lifting her up by her ass, he caught her lips again and sent his tongue in deep to lick at the roof of her mouth. Her legs wound around his waist, arms locked over his shoulders to hang on tight.

  He didn’t care why she had come to him. She was here. Belonged here. With him. Against him. Beneath him. With a smirk of possession, he lowered her body to the bed and followed her down.

  Five years ago the man she loved died in her arms…Or did he?

  Unbreakable

  © 2007 Sydney Somers

  Jordan McAdam leads an unusual double life. Police officer by day, vigilante by night. But Jordan isn’t interested in the average criminal. She stalks Shadow Demons, creatures who prey on the innocent, creatures whom she suspects are responsible for a string of bizarre sacrificial murders. Creatures who killed her partner and lover.

  Gage Campbell has spent the last few years on an elite team of Shadow Destroyers, hunting down the demons who changed his life—and his DNA. Then an assignment leads him straight back to the woman he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for five long years. The woman he had no choice but to leave behind.

  Is the man before her a mimic demon bent on tormenting her, or is it Gage returned from the dead? All Jordan knows is that the raging desire between them is real.

  Standing between them are years of secrets and hurt, and a love that just might have the power to bring them together. If the murder case they’re working on doesn’t separate them…permanently.

  The Shadow Destroyer Series, Book 1.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Unbreakable:

  “You’re awake.”

  Jordan didn’t have to try very hard to ignore the fact that he looked good leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, his feet bare. She was too busy burning him to a cinder with her gaze. “Spare me the small talk.” She jerked on the restraints. “What’s with these? And if you try to be a smart ass and say something kinky, I will hurt you. Very badly,” she promised.

  “When you get up you mean?” The corner of his mouth twitched. He strolled into the room. “But that kinky talk does give me a few ideas now that you brought it up.”

  “Do not screw with me, Gage. I’m not the submissive type. Take. These. Off. Now.”

  “No.”

  Frustration chewed away at her insides. “Why not?” She was about three seconds away from screaming the place down, even
if the only thing it got her was duct tape across the mouth. She felt far too helpless like this, the same way she had felt when the war demon had cornered her in her apartment the week after Gage died.

  “I think that lust demon infected you.”

  Jordan snorted. “Not possible.”

  “You have a scratch on your side.”

  “So. I got a scratch from fighting it. Doesn’t mean he did it to me.” She continued to squirm, seeking any leverage that might help her get free.

  “I’m not taking the chance.”

  “You don’t have to. I’m fine.” She felt fine. She’d know if something was wrong. She’d been injured in dozens of fights with lust demons before and hadn’t been “infected” like he seemed to think she was.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Oh, no. You are not leaving me like this.”

  Gage cocked his head. “I don’t think you’re in a position to do much about it.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Jordan growled.

  “Tsk. Tsk. I see you still have no problem shooting your mouth off.”

  “Come a little closer and I’ll show you what else I have no problem doing.”

  Instead of moving closer, Gage took a step back. The small measure of satisfaction his retreat gave her was short-lived. Mostly because she was still latched to her bed.

  She dragged in what she hoped was a calming breath, relaxing the muscles that had locked up the moment she discovered she couldn’t move. “There is no reason to keep me like this. I’d know if I felt differently.”

  “There’s no way to tell for another few hours.”

  “Are you crazy? In case you’ve forgotten, people keep dying because some power-tripping demon wants to cross over. For all we know a gateway could be opening right now.”

  Gage shook his head. “Braxton is monitoring all temporal activity in this area. He’ll let us know the second something looks unusual.”

  “Let me put it this way. When I say I couldn’t have been infected, I mean I really couldn’t have been. My talisman protects me from all things demon magik related.”

  “We’re not talking magik, we’re talking about it getting into your blood.”

  “In one sense or another all demon powers originate in magik. Trust me, I’m immune.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “Call Brady. He’ll tell you. He was the one who gave it to me.”

  His brows drew together. “And you’re wearing it now? The same one you showed me the night we ran into each other.”

  “Old friends run into each other, Gage. Like people who went to high school together and haven’t seen each other since graduation. Not two people fighting the same abnormally strong creatures, one of whom has played dead for the last five years.”

  “Do you think you could stop reminding me about that every thirty seconds?”

  “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you had dropped a postcard in the mail. Christmas time would have been good.”

  “Damn it, Jordan. I couldn’t.”

  “Is this about that whole keep me safe thing again? I think we’ve talked that to death, don’t you?” They hadn’t really, but she didn’t want to go there right now. She wanted to get up. Maybe find a demon to slay. Preferably a whole legion of them.

  Anything so she wouldn’t have to feel vulnerable lying here, especially when he was looking at her like he actually cared what she thought. She didn’t want him to care. Not if he wasn’t sticking around. It would be much easier to let him go when the time came.

  Gage leaned over her. His gaze dipped to the plunging vee neckline.

  “What are you doing?” The question didn’t snap like she intended it to.

  He followed the leather strap down to the top of her breasts and withdrew the talisman.

  His fingers brushed her skin, and her stomach tightened. “So you think this thing somehow protects you?”

  From this angle she couldn’t tell if he was looking at the talisman or her cleavage. “According to Brady, yeah. I haven’t had any problems before.”

  Gage replaced it, his fingers once more sliding over her skin, whisper soft. Definitely on purpose this time.

  Jordan searched his face, but he turned away. He made it as far as the door before she opened her mouth to demand he release her. Gage shut off the light and came back to the bed. He stretched out on the mattress next to her, dragging a blanket up to cover both of them.

  “You expect me to sleep like this?”

  “It’s after three in the morning, Jordan. Just…go to sleep.”

  “Call Brady.”

  Gage rolled over, his face hovering above hers. He’d forgotten to fully close the blinds and slivers of light from the streetlamp outside allowed her to clearly see his face.

  “I’m not calling anyone, so go to sleep.”

  “Exactly what are you worried about? That you’re wrong, or that you wouldn’t be able to resist me if I was infected?”

  “One, I hope I am wrong. I’d rather you not have to go through that. And two, who says I’d want to resist you?” His voice deepened on the last sentence.

  “Gage…”

  He sighed. “You really need to stop talking, Jordan.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re making it hard for me to roll over and go to sleep.”

  “So you are trying to resist me,” she teased, her earlier frustration fading to the back of her mind as her body warmed from head to toe under his simmering blue eyes.

  “Not very well.” He covered her mouth with his, proving just how much he couldn’t fight the pull that crackled in the air between them. Arguing had always led to the most incredible sex between them and it seemed that the time apart hadn’t changed that.

  His lips skimmed back and forth across hers. Each hot pass made her tug at her restraints, wanting to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer. The first damp sweep of his tongue filled her senses.

  She moaned, already knowing the kiss would never be enough to satisfy the craving heating her limbs until she could have dissolved into the mattress. No matter how much she wanted to strangle the man at any given moment, in bed he never failed to make her forget about everything but how good he made her feel.

  How good she wanted to feel right now.

  Gage drew back. His ragged breath teased her neck.

  “If you’re about to tell me to go to sleep—”

  “If you threaten me one more time today, Jordan, I’m going to leave you like this for at least a week.” He captured her mouth again.

  This time the kiss wasn’t slow or teasing.

  He consumed her.

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