by Dodge, Lola
“Is that all?”
“No.” He lifted me up and crushed my mouth with a deep, deep kiss. I was breathless when we hit the elevator, and he only paused long enough to punch the button.
The doors almost closed on us three times before we stumbled into the apartment. Heat seared into me. Panther’s breath, his hands, everything was so warm. We finally fell onto his bed, tangling until he felt like a part of me. One I wasn’t willing to let go.
“I want you to stay with me.” Panther lifted onto his elbows. “I’m a possessive bastard, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you here.”
“Do I look like I’m running?” I arched up and planted a kiss on his collarbone.
“God, no.” He dropped and rolled, crushing me in his arms. “You look perfect.”
“Then we don’t need to talk anymore, do we, my Panther?” I stroked down his chest, over the taut muscles, so warm, so welcoming.
This was where I belonged.
He growled and flipped me again. This time, he sat on top, pressing me into the mattress. “I’ll be yours anytime.” Panther began unbuttoning my shirt. “But one favor?”
“Yes?” Transfixed by his fingers, I was in no position to refuse.
“Call me Balam.” He took my nipple between his teeth.
“Balam…” My spine arched.
“Don’t worry about overusing it.” He added a swirl of tongue and moved to feed at my mouth again. “My Ivory.”
So flushed and heated, the power inside me misted away. All that existed was the bed and my beautiful creature. My hunting partner. My lover. My balance.
I hadn’t known how empty I was. Now I overflowed.
“I will never let you go.” I spoke the words in my language, but a growl rumbled in response.
“Don’t know what it means, but you’re mine now.”
Yes. I was.
About the Author
Lola Dodge was forged in the suburbs, tested in the retail wastelands and reborn as a romance writer after several strong cocktails. Armed with her M.F.A. in Writing Popular Fiction, she travels the world in search of story fodder and men with accents.
www.loladodge.com
Twitter @Lola_Dodge
Look for these titles by Lola Dodge
Now Available:
Manhattan Ten
Temptress
Kiss your powers goodbye.
Temptress
© 2012 Lola Dodge
Manhattan Ten, Book 1
Kidnapping a super-powered suspected felon from a Vegas bachelor party is another day at the office for Jenny Ray, alias Temptress. With one kiss, any naughty supe’s powers are hers. Except this time she’s caught by her mark’s boss, who’s no ordinary superhero.
It’s Thinktank, leader of the toughest hero crew around. One destroyed men’s room and near-toilet-drowning later, Jenny’s forced to steal an innocent hero’s powers.
For a super brain, Tank’s feeling pretty idiotic. First, he let Jenny close enough to get to him. Second, he’s helpless against the tide of desire that rises in him every time he kisses her. Which he’s doing a lot, since she’s trying to give him back his power—only it’s not working. As he shadows her on her various freelance casino security jobs, he realizes she’s no she-demon—she’s a time bomb. Her acquired powers are shredding her, body and soul.
As they give in to desire, a shadowy figure from Jenny’s past surfaces with a kidnapping plan of his own. Jenny will do anything—even level Las Vegas—to rescue the man she loves. But there may not be anything left of her when the dust settles.
Warning: Contains high-stakes poker, high-end cocktails, and high-flying over Las Vegas skies. Never drink and fly!
Enjoy the following excerpt for Temptress:
“Robert Donavan, alias Steel.” The cuffs clicked. “I’m authorized to take you into custody under section three point eight of the Superhero Justice Act. You’re to be tried for the rape of one Miranda Hutchins.”
His eyes widened. With his super-strength, he could’ve snapped the chain, but he didn’t have the time. I lowered my mouth. As soon as our lips met, it was too late.
He gasped, but my power worked fast. I sucked in his breath, sifting through his life force until I sensed the glowing center of his being. His powers. Once I could feel them, they were mine.
Steel’s eyes rolled back, and he sagged against the bed. I left him cuffed and disentangled to straighten my dress and hair.
That was one obstacle down. Now all I had to do was get a three hundred pound lump of unconscious muscle past seven of his closest hero friends, out of the club and down to the station.
It was asking a lot, considering I was just freelance. But who else could do it? If they got to keep their powers, supers tended not to sit around and wait for trial.
Hooray for justice.
With Steel’s strength coursing through me, giddiness outweighed my nerves. I could make this work. I had plenty of powers of my own. As long as I kept it stealth, I’d be fine. Though Iron Chef was looking like a bust.
I hovered up to the ventilation panel in the ceiling and heaved it open. It was big enough that I could squeeze in, but Steel’s shoulders were twice as wide as mine. That was out. I could make us both invisible and walk out the door, but that wouldn’t fly with Thinktank outside. A little invisibility wouldn’t fool him.
Widening my eyes, I focused on the walls. My vision sank through the layers. Paint, drywall, frames and wiring, and back out again. We shared one wall with the club, one with the VIP lounge and one with another private suite where Jet was occupied with a couple of strippers. I flinched away.
The fourth wall was more promising. It connected to an empty men’s bathroom, and I stretched my vision further.
Two women were touching up their lip-gloss in the adjoining women’s bathroom, and past that the only other obstacle was a service hallway. Through there, I could get into an alley, go invisible and fly away. The ladies grabbed their purses. I grinned and cut the X-rays.
The handcuff key was tucked in my bra, but I wanted to test my new strength. It was always best to show a new power who’s boss.
I gripped the metal headboard and pulled. Decorative iron snapped, and Steel slipped free.
I flipped him over my shoulders. He reeked of booze and sweat, but the smell was the only way I could tell he was there. This whole super-strength thing was clutch, though I knew I’d regret it later. I even had a free hand to press through the wall.
My skin tingled. Steel’s weight hit me as I yanked him through. It took three times more focus than usual, and I almost snagged him on a hot water pipe. Breathing hard, I stumbled into the men’s bathroom.
I was halfway to the sinks when the door cracked against the wall. Thinktank thundered in with energy crackling around his temples. Of course it was him.
Why hadn’t I checked his dossier before the mission? Right. He was supposed to be in New York. I knew he could read minds, but there was definitely more, and he looked way too muscular for a brain. His power jabbed against my skull like a fist squeezing my brain.
“Who do you work for?” With the question, pain jolted so hard my knees almost gave.
Fight or flight? I could win if I had to, but it wouldn’t be pretty afterward, and Thinktank hadn’t done anything wrong. It was time to cut my losses and run.
I swung Steel off my shoulders and tossed him like a horseshoe. He hit Thinktank like the whole horse, and they crashed into the bank of urinals.
I sprinted for the wall. God, I needed a teleporter to break some laws. This was ridiculous.
I dove. Thinktank’s energy contracted around me. Instead of going through the wall, I face-planted. White streaks shot through my vision as my nose made a sickening crunch.
Blood dripped to stain my dress. I glared over the hand cupped to my face.
Steel lay crumpled under the spray of a shattered urinal, but Thinktank was on his feet and approaching. The closer he came, the more my h
ead ached. I couldn’t let him get his hands on me. Which meant letting loose the fireworks.
I flung my hands, casting a wall of fire between us. He cursed and jumped back. If the flames burned him half as badly as they seared my skin, it was worth it.
Another pang, and the fire guttered. Thinktank looked sooty but unharmed.
Bastard.
I let loose a wave of ice, with some laser beams for good measure. The cold was excruciating on burnt skin, and the lasers felt like atomic buffalo sauce jetting through my retinas. So much for my TV lineup. Or being coherent the next few days. My body was going to hate me for using this many acquired powers.
Thinktank dodged, lifting his fingers to his temples. A laser sizzled into his arm just before it fizzled. I slipped on leftover ice as his power clamped down.
He grabbed me by the back of the neck and kicked open a stall. “Who do you work for?”
With the question, Thinktank plunged my face into the toilet.
Ick. Cold. Disgusting.
I spluttered and kicked, but he must’ve done this before. His grip wouldn’t budge. I thrashed harder.
“The Rogue Alliance?” He plucked me out and thrust me down again.
Couldn’t the bastard just read my mind? If he couldn’t, I had one more card left. He was going to pay for making me use it.
Suppressing the urge to vomit, I took a huge gulp of toilet water. It tasted like bleach and things I didn’t want to think about, but thanks to the wannabe pirate/merman I’d apprehended off Somalia, my body pulled out enough oxygen to clear the spots from my eyes. I let my limbs go limp.
Thinktank hoisted me up and peered into my eyes. His mental hold relaxed—just barely. It was enough.
Gluing my mouth to his, I gave him back some of the nasty water as I sucked out his powers. He toppled, and I collapsed on him, hacking up whatever I’d swallowed.
My lungs burned and my body ached, but I scrabbled over to Steel. I dragged him out of a puddle and headed for the wall.
Thinktank twitched. I really, really wanted to leave him. He’d interfered with my sting and almost blown the mission. And what kind of guy had the stomach to keep a rapist on his crime-fighting squad?
But whatever Thinktank’s questionable leadership policies, he was a hero. Bona-fide. He saved babies from four-alarm fires, disarmed bio-weapons and had kicked enough supervillain ass to warrant a knighthood, a Congressional Medal of Honor and a Nobel Peace Prize. Anyone with a TV knew that much.
He was a good guy. And I’d have to give him back his powers.
I grabbed each of the heroes by an arm and dragged them through the wall, glancing back in time to see Red Ruin and The Annihilator tear through the door.
They had no chance with their leader out of commission. We flashed invisible as I flew us out into the alley and into the air.
Vegas glittered below us, but hauling the men took away from the spectacle. Just because I could lift them didn’t mean I should. Pain ripped up my arms, tearing through my shoulders.
We were all going to have dislocated shoulders if I didn’t get to the station soon, and hauling both of them, I couldn’t exactly jet. Despite the pain, I shivered. Even in summer, Vegas got cold when the sun set.
He thinks he’s seen everything…until he encounters a woman he can’t see at all…
Luminous
© 2012 Corrina Lawson
The Phoenix Institute, Book 1.5
As a teen, Lucy left home to gain the independence to pursue her dreams. When a renegade scientist captured and used her as a guinea pig, she escaped, but not unscathed. Rendered permanently invisible and with little memory of her previous life, she has transformed herself into Noir, a rogue crime fighter with one goal: find and stop her tormentor from harming anyone else.
Police Lieutenant Aloysius James thought he’d seen it all in the crumbling and corrupt Charlton City, but a brutal bank robbery committed by a monster has left him feeling he’s out of his depth. One man is missing from the scene and if he isn’t found soon, Al fears he’ll be as dead as the rest.
Al is unprepared for the one woman with the key to solving the case—Noir, who seems equally surprised he doesn’t find her unique ability repulsive.
Together they go out into the night, joining forces to track the monster down. They never expected their desperate alliance would generate a force of a different kind. Attraction…and desire.
Warning: This book contains sex without sight, requiring the characters to do everything—yes, everything—by touch alone.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Luminous:
She raised her head, and he could now see below the rim of the hat. Her face was covered by black mesh, the kind they used in Halloween costumes. All of her was over the top, like something out of a comic book.
“What is this? Am I supposed to be scared?”
“I’m guessing you are scared since you’re pointing a gun at me.”
Wiseass. “What’s your name?”
“Noir.”
Gimme a break. “Come closer. Let me see you’re not hiding anything under the cape.”
She swept the cape over her shoulders. The jacket hugged her chest, proving that she was definitely a woman. The skintight clothing hugged her in all the right places, especially around her small waist. Nicely shaped legs too.
He saw no weapons or hint of any weapon.
“Will you please put your gun down?” she asked. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I could have done that without showing myself. It’s not like you noticed me before I spoke up.”
Definitely a wiseass. Great. It was true he’d paid little attention to his surroundings as he’d stumbled up the steps to his apartment. She’d likely slipped in behind him, somehow.
All he’d wanted was a few minutes of peace and quiet. Not another freak. One today was enough.
He took a couple of steps to the wall and flicked the switch on the living-room light. He stared at her for a minute, and when she made no move, finally holstered his gun. Training said never do that in the face of an enemy, but hey, he was in a mood to gamble. Either that, or too tired to care.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Besides Noir?”
“I know who killed all those bank employees. I know who kidnapped the teller,” she said, avoiding his question. “The monster’s name is Jack. I can tell you all about him.”
The killer was a monster, but this one, despite wearing black leather well, was also some sort of freak. It made a certain weird logic they were acquainted.
Al collapsed on his couch and waved his hand at the armchair across from him. There would be a price for her information. There was always a price. No one volunteered to get involved in a homicide investigation without wanting something in return. Though he had to admit, he’d talk to the devil himself to prevent another fucking mess like that in the bank and to save that kid from becoming another casualty.
Noir hesitated a second before sitting across from him.
“What do you want in exchange for your information?” he asked.
“All I want is for you to help me find Jack, his sister and the missing teller.”
“The monster’s name is Jack. So you’ve said twice now. He has a sister too?”
“Yeah. Jack’s human—well, he was once—but he’s just what you said, a monster now. He’s not in charge of anything. Jill, his sister, is the planner and probably the one who sent him to the bank.”
“Jack and Jill?” Al snorted. That upped the freak factor. And he’d thought it couldn’t go any higher.
“I so wish they were a nursery rhyme,” Noir said. “Jill is some sort of doctor or scientist. She probably needed the cash from the robbery to fund her research.”
Noir leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. Her boots—black, of course—were knee-high. Sleek and dangerous. Her getup should have made her look ridiculous, but somehow it didn’t. As superhero costumes went, it worked. He wondered how old she was. She seemed so self-possessed
, but she had a young voice.
“What type of research is Jill involved in?” Al asked.
“Genetic research to alter body types. She’s what caused Jack to change from human into that monster you saw on the video.”
A mad scientist? Great. Add that to the crazy list. “That’s hard to believe.”
Noir could be as unbalanced as this “Jack” obviously was. Too bad. He wondered if her face matched the killer body.
He shook his head, walked to the kitchen and pulled a Coke out of the fridge. He needed a break to think of his next move. She was either crazy or had information he needed. Or both. Whichever it was, he wanted to keep her talking.
“Want a drink?” he called.
“No.”
“Right, that would require you to show your face.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?” she snapped.
He opened the Coke and leaned in the kitchen doorway. “If I hadn’t seen the bank video, I’d think you were insane. And I’d be arresting you for breaking into my apartment.”
“But you’ve seen what Jack can do. And you need me.”
“Maybe.” He chugged the Coke, wishing it were beer. But not while he was on duty. Okay, probably not ever, if he was being honest with himself. “But why come to me? Sure, I’m a detective, but I wasn’t the senior detective on the scene.”
“I saw you there,” she said in a whisper. “I saw how you reacted to the victims. You care. You want to help.”
“You were watching me?” Just how had she snuck into the crime scene?
“I was looking for Jack.” A pause. “I picked up his trail but I got there too late.”
“I didn’t see anyone who looked remotely like you.” Though how could he know that when he really hadn’t seen her? There was no telling what she looked like without the cape, cowl, hat and all that black leather.
“I stayed out of sight,” she said.
“I’ll bet.” He sighed. “Look, I know Jack’s real. I know I need to catch him. That’s why I’m listening to you. But how do I know your information is good? For all I know, you’re as crazy as he is.”
“I can tell you what kind of equipment Jill uses for her lab and some of the chemicals she needs. Would that help track her down to where the hostage might be?”
