"I can't, either. Let's finish this so we can go back to the campsite before dark."
"Why? Don't you like the dark?" Jessi mocked as they continued to walk past large rocks in the terrain.
He laughed as he slowly stepped around a large boulder. "I'd like to see your naked body before it gets too dark."
"Can't get enough?" She followed behind him.
He twisted and gave her a lustful look. "Nope. Plus, we really haven't enjoyed the outdoors enough."
Jessi frowned. "The ground's pretty hard."
"So am I, when you are around."
"That's different. I like that a lot."
"Then let's get this done so we can have some alone time." He turned back around and continued towards the cave entrance.
When they reached the entrance Jon pulled out his flashlight.
"This is a perfect place for it." He stepped inside, and Jessi stayed close behind him. The light bounced off the gray walls that had droplets of moisture hanging from them.
Jessi grabbed Jon's hand when the light hit some sleeping bats.
"They're asleep. We're okay."
They ventured deeper into the cave and Jon scanned the walls, looking for a crevice to shove the pendant into. He finally stopped at one that was arm's length above his head.
"This should do it." He let go of Jessi's hand and gave her the flashlight. There was an indentation in the wall which he used for his foot as he grabbed hold of a jagged rock sticking out of the wall to lift himself up eye level with the crevice.
"Can you shoot the light in here?" he asked Jessi.
"Like this?" She angled the light differently and he was able to glimpse into the crevice, which he found empty. Perfect for holding onto the pendant.
"Perfect." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pendant. "Should we say something poetic?"
"How about thanks and I hope I never see you again?" Jessi suggested.
"Yeah, what she said," he told the pendant and pushed it into the crevice as far as his fingers would go. He looked down around the base of the cave. "Can you find some small rocks that could fit in here?"
Jessi took the flashlight and scanned the ground. "A couple." She handed him some of what she found. He took them from her and stuffed them in the hole.
"That should be enough." He jumped down to the ground. "Perfect. Now let's go."
"Yeah. Those bats creep me out."
He took hold of her hand. "You're creeped out by bones and now bats. Why do you still go to archaeological digs?"
She leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around her. "Because I know my Ghost Mate will be with me."
About the Author
D. Anne Paris began conjuring up stories even before she could put words on paper. When other kids in her class submitted stories about their vacations and puppies, she submitted ones that had to be blessed by a priest.
The paranormal has always called out to her and she’s usually the one that’s running into haunted houses and graveyards. She strongly believes Halloween should be a national holiday and everyone should have a favorite paranormal hero or heroine.
When not in the writing cave D.Anne can be found in the garage working on her first love- her Trans Am, or working on her blueberry farm. She is the wife of one hot Silver Fox and the mom of one mini salesman who tries to convince his friend's mothers to buy her books.
Living On The Edge
Clan Book 1
LaVerne Thompson
Do you trust your instincts?
As one of the few female bounty hunters in the country and with a nickname like Edge, she enjoyed living on the edge and always got her man. One way or another. As an executioner for her shifter clan she was relentless, but finding a mate was not something on her radar, having to hunt him down and execute him even less so.
But could she trust her instincts?
Ethan Graves was a hunted man, not quite a man but a Leo of his kind. When he found out he was hunted by a sexy bounty hunter, he let himself be caught. He just had to convince her of his innocence before she killed him, then confess to wanting her as his mate.
But could he trust his instincts?
Chapter One
Blood!
On his hands. On his clothes. Everywhere.
“Sharon!” Ethan jerked awake, the sound of his hoarse cry still echoing in his head. “Shit!” If only it had been a dream, a nightmare. Unfortunately, waking up changed nothing. It was all too real. Sharon was dead.
Naked, he rolled out of the uncomfortable bed and made his way to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, he climbed in, allowing the cool water beating against his face and the rest of his body to calm his racing heart. He closed his eyes and remembered why his life had become so fucked up.
He’d been the golden boy, golden by birth, by youth and worth fifty times his weight as a man. While his family didn’t trace their roots back to the Mayflower, they did come to America after the civil war, but they came in style. His great grandfather, three or so greats removed was the third son of a Duke and with family backing and blessing, came to the new world to further his fortune…and so he had.
Every Graves since then, only added to the till. Until his own father, long after the death of his mother, almost lost it all by marrying a real bitch. But he, Ethan, ended up saving it all, he only had to marry another bitch. Anything to maintain the family legacy. Which cost him, and cost him dearly.
Shit, but even Sharon didn’t deserve what had been done to her. No amount of water could wash the blood off his hands. He glanced down at them under the water, but instead of fingernails, he saw razor sharp black claws, stained with red.
“That’s it. I’m done,” Ethan said.
Sharon slowly shook her perfectly styled and cut light blonde hair. “You’re done when I say. We are not getting a divorce.”
“Watch me,” he growled.
“It’s going to cost you Ethan, it will cost you everything.” She laughed and took a sip from the Baccarat crystal white wine glass in her hand that had been in his family for three generations. “And lord knows you’d do anything to preserve the family legacy. So, who are you trying to fool?”
“That’s just it,” he said shaking his head. “I’ve only been fooling myself.”
“Well, get over it. I love being a Graves. I love this life and I’m not giving it up. Nor you. I told you I’d be more discreet.”
He shook his head at her blatant arrogance. “No more. You don’t have a choice.” He turned around and walked away from her.
“Ethan,” she screamed at his retreating back, “If you leave, I’ll make you fucking pay.”
He didn’t respond, he was already paying. Ethan continued on until he walked out the connecting door to the garage. He wanted a divorce and no longer cared about the cost. Her reaction to his demand came as no surprise.
Sharon wanted to continue the life they led…she wanted his social connections. Even though her family had money, tons of it they never quite fit in certain doors. When she married him, all those doors opened for her, he’d known it, even the fact she never hid she also wanted other men.
At first, he didn’t really care that he’d never been enough, but he couldn’t live like this anymore. He’d gone to see his personal lawyer, Harvey Steam to have him start divorce proceedings. The last affair Sharon had been having, and he suspected with whom, had been the last straw.
Ethan felt sure Harvey could hire someone to find out for sure. He wanted out of this sham of a marriage.
Ethan blinked but his thoughts remained in the past. Too bad for them both, he’d gone to see Harvey at his house that night. Later, Harvey told the police he had nothing on his calendar about a meeting and couldn’t remember any phone conversation about it. Which Ethan claimed they had the day before.
When Ethan returned home that nightmarish night, the outside lights were still on, but most of the lights in the house were off and the alarm hadn’t been set. Not an unusual occu
rrence. He walked through the main room but a light on in the Florida room drew his attention. Instead of heading upstairs to the section of the house he’d moved into months ago, he changed direction and headed for the other room.
The door was partially closed. Which was unusual, this door was almost never closed. He pushed it open all the way and caught the strong odor of something his senses registered as one thing but his brain refused to agree with. At first, he thought there was no one in the room, but the light from the lamp on the desk illuminated a shadow on the floor. He entered the room further and could no longer deny what his extraordinary senses already told him—not when he saw her. On the floor beside the desk, laying on her side with her face turned away from him.
He rushed to Sharon’s side, falling on his knees, turning her as he did so, but already knowing she was dead. Blood matted her blonde hair, her throat looked as though it had been clawed open and her yellow shirt pressed against her pale skin drenched in crimson. The sight and smell became too much for him, he scrambled away, his guts churning with bile. He had to take deep breaths to get himself under control but the scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils, making it worse, clogging his senses.
By the time he registered the faint noise behind him, intending to turn around, something hit him on the back of his head. Then, he knew nothing at all. That is until the sound of someone screaming and his stepbrother’s voice above him caused him to rouse from his forced slumber. He opened his eyes to see himself covered in his wife’s blood, with Richard, his stepbrother bending over him.
“What happened, Ethan? What did you do?” Richard asked.
He had no answer…then or now. His nightmare that turned out to be no nightmare began that night. Or maybe it began from the first time he’d met Sharon.
Even before he’d been charged with her murder, the last few months felt like he’d been hiking up a mountain through a blizzard. Something he’d actually done. Only this had been five times worse. The police had been suspicious of him from the first—after all, the husband was always guilty. In this case, he wasn’t and all the cops did was gather circumstantial evidence to prove his guilt, instead of looking for the real killer. It didn’t help the prosecutor hated his guts because he’d gotten him fired from his old law firm for incompetence…And the ass was. He never bothered to check facts, like if Ethan did kill her, where the fuck was the weapon?
He then had to hire his own team of investigators but when the bulk of his assets were frozen, he could no longer afford them. He had no choice in the matter, no choice at all, other than to prove his innocence himself. Like find the damn weapon which mimicked the slice of an animal’s claws. To prove his innocence, he needed to be free to find the evidence himself—and the fact that no way, could he remain locked up for long.
As his family kept secrets, so did he. At least, he already had a hunch who the real killer could be. The same man Sharon had been having an affair with, the father of her baby. The one who told the police Sharon was pregnant, which he hadn’t known and of course, the DNA test showed her husband was not the father of her baby. Especially, since they hadn’t been sleeping together for months. The prosecutor’s case kept piling up against him...Even without the weapon.
Only one other person could have known about Sharon’s pregnancy. The same bastard who while being so helpful to the police, also had his assets frozen, at the same time, he maneuvered to take control of the company he’d always coveted. The life he felt should have been his. Richard.
The bastard. His stepbrother. He was the only other person Ethan could think of, since he knew he damn sure wasn’t the killer. Impossible as it seemed, Richard might also have been privy to part of his family secrets. If so, he might never find the weapon, but there had to be something else. Now, he only had to find the proof or motive enough to show Richard should also have been investigated. He had motive. It had to be there, either still in his house or at Richard’s place. Ethan started with a search of the house.
Sharon kept a journal. There was a panic room in the main house off the master bedroom and it’d been the first place he’d looked but it wasn’t there. He felt pretty sure Richard didn’t have it, and by the time Ethan figured out where else it might be, he’d been thrown in jail and had no time to check.
Sharon just recently redecorated the pool house and had a floor safe installed, he planned to restart his search there. He didn’t believe Richard knew about the safe yet. He’d already gone through the safes in the master bedroom and his study and found nothing. He hoped to search the one in the pool house tonight.
The only problem with his whole theory was he couldn’t figure out why Richard felt he had to kill Sharon. My God, he suspected she’d been pregnant with Richard’s child and to be murdered in a horrible way…Richard must be nuts. The coroner’s report claimed the slashes across her throat were caused by some kind of three-pronged steel blade, but death may not have been instantaneous. Ethan thought it almost looked like lion claw marks. The bastard literally sliced her throat open, then stood there and watched her bleed out. The prosecutor theorized Ethan killed her first, left the house to get rid of the weapon, since they couldn’t find it, then came back to conveniently find the body.
He stepped out of the shower and stood in front of the mirror. A fugitive stared back at him. He barely recognized himself, he’d shaved off his shoulder length golden locks and now sported a bald look, a light mustache and slight goatee on his chin. Not many people would recognize him now. In the last few weeks, he’d lost weight, not like he had any to really lose before this, but he’d packed on muscle because he had nothing to do but work out. It kept him sane.
Physical exercise always did help him to focus. His company owned several sporting goods stores and he’d made it a habit to try out most sports. He liked the extreme ones best. It satisfied the wild nature he carried inside himself. Until three years ago, when he took over the reins of the company. Still, he always found time to stay active. He sighed, marrying Sharon a year and a half ago ended those activities…A mistake from start to finish.
They’d first met on the ski slopes, where she’d broken her leg the first day there and he kept her company. He hadn’t been on a pair of skis since. After they were married and even before, for some reason if he wanted to plan anything involving physical outdoor activity, she would find a reason to plan something that didn’t.
He finished dressing and grabbed one of the disposable pre-paid phones he bought. Dialing his house number, he knew the housekeeper would answer it. When she did, he disguised his voice and inquired about a delivery he himself had placed months ago. Ethan claimed he was calling to confirm the time to make sure someone would be at home. The time he gave of course, was late evening in reality, he wanted to make sure no one would be around.
The housekeeper didn’t recognize his voice and explained no one would be there after four and could it be delivered another day.
He gave her the date and time he’d previously scheduled the delivery for and hung up. He’d gotten the information he needed. Confirmation no one would be at his home after four. Still, as a precaution he would wait until the sun went down before he tried to get inside the property.
Chapter Two
The phone rang again for the third time, then stopped. Which meant whoever was on the other end wasn’t leaving a message—this time. Then the cell rang. Damn! Could only be one person, but it didn’t matter. Edge had just gotten back from a grueling two months on assignment.
This was down time. Work could wait.
Five minutes later, the doorbell began to ring, like someone’s finger held it down, and they weren’t going to stop the madness until the door was opened. Confirming the caller and visitor were one and the same.
Growling, Edge got out of bed, pulled on an oversized t-shirt long enough to cover all the interesting anatomy and stomped to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and yanking it open. “This had damn well better be good!”
“Good morning to you too, darlin’.”
His fake Texas drawl got on her nerves. He could no more be from Texas than she could be from Mars. But in the five years they’d been partners, he’d never lost the slow lazy way of talking and he would laugh each time she confronted him about his origins.
“Damn it, Cole…” That’s as far as Edge got before he walked past her and headed straight for her kitchen. She followed on his biker booted heels. “I do not remember inviting you in.”
“Hmm, somebody needs a little coffee.” He held up the bag at his side and waved it in front of her face. “I’ll get it started and we can have it with fresh bagels, cream cheese and lox.”
She continued to scowl at him, while his gray eyed gaze roamed over her disheveled state with exaggerated interest. Interest, she knew he faked and only meant to get on her nerves. They’d kissed once, purely out of curiosity. She’d been under a lot of stress at the time and damn, the man at six foot three, built like a quarterback with fine features…screamed hot, but in reality, touching his lips felt like kissing plastic. Did nothing for her…him either. And for the record, she was hot as well.
Once they took the sexual equation out of their relationship, they made great partners and even better friends. They co-owned Bounty Hunters RWE and they were usually called in for the bigger payday jobs. She was also one of the few female bounty hunters in the US, known for always getting her man, or woman…Dead or alive.
Something not at all surprising in the least to Edge and those closest to her. She came from a long line of bounty hunters, her father, grandfather and uncles were all bounty hunters. There was some Native American blood from the Lakota tribe mixed in with African and the combination made for some interesting visual genes, as well as being damn fine trackers. But that wasn’t the only bloodline she carried.
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