Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1

by Alisha Rai

  “Are you happy?” James rubbed her back.

  “Very much so.”

  “Are you feeling guilty for being happy?”

  She smiled and tugged at his chest hair. “I do not have a hero complex.”

  “So says you.”

  “And to answer your question…a little bit. But hopefully, once I get in the grind here, it’ll fade.” She couldn’t fully banish her feelings of guilt for not being on the front lines, but there was more peace in her decision than she’d ever felt in her life. She was needed, they all were. She pressed a kiss to his chest. “Do you think Carrie will be all right?”

  He stroked her hair, sobering. “I hope so. She has us. She won’t recover overnight, but you and I will help her.”

  She gave him another kiss, rewarding him for his big heart and endless love. “I hate to be a bother, but can you check on her?”

  He yawned and nodded, heaving himself off the bed to reach for the walkie-talkie on his desk. “First thing I do tomorrow is ask Gabriel which of the open rooms has a larger bed. We can’t possibly manage with this one for longer than a night or so.”

  “It’s not so bad, if you’re on top of me.” She got up from the bed and walked, naked, to the small adjoined bath.

  “Which is probably where I’ll be for tonight, or I’d go ask him right now.” His heavy-lidded gaze was slipping all over her.

  “Control yourself,” she chided, though her nipples had tightened in response to his gaze.

  She did her business and washed her hands, coming out to find him standing in front of his desk, long and tall and naked. She marveled. He was kind and stubborn, weak and strong, brilliant and caring. And all hers.

  “Carrie’s doing well. She’s sleeping now. Hema said she would call when she wakes so we can visit with her.” He smiled. “She wished me happy birthday. I didn’t realize the date.”

  Jules quickly ran through her mental calendar. “Oh, hey. That’s right. Happy Birthday! You know, I wish I could give you—”

  He turned, and she could see he held the poor Frost book in his hands. The binding was a mess, and the cover dipped in where she had ripped pages from it.

  “What? Where did you get that?”

  “I saw it in your van when I was helping Erik load extra supplies in there.” He smiled, dimples flashing. “Since I have pieces of it too, I figure it all belongs together.”

  “I wanted to give you something you love.”

  “I do love it.”

  She watched him examine the book carefully, his hands tender as he stroked his fingers along the title, opened it, rubbed the remaining paper between his fingers.

  When he looked up, his heart was in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry I ripped into it. Kinda ruined the best present ever. Maybe we can glue some of the pages back in.”

  “Don’t be silly. I plan on leaving the pages as they are. They brought me to the most wonderful gift.” He laid the book carefully on the desk. He swooped over, caught her up quickly in his arms and tossed her on the bed. She rolled onto her back, laughing, to find herself covered with warm, hard man. “They led me to you.”

  About the Author

  Alisha Rai has been enthralled with romance novels since she smuggled her first tattered Harlequin home from the library at the age of thirteen. There is nothing she loves more than penning sexy, emotional contemporaries and paranormals with larger-than-life heroes and smart, capable heroines.

  When she’s not reading or working, Alisha loves to hang out with her close-knit family. She happily lives in a chaotic house filled with clutter, laughter, good food, boisterous kids and very loud relatives.

  Alisha loves to hear from her readers. You can send her an e-mail at alishawrites@gmail.com or visit her on the web at www.alisharai.com.

  Look for these titles by Alisha Rai

  Now Available:

  Glutton for Pleasure

  Cabin Fever

  Never Have I Ever

  Hot as Hades

  Veiled

  Veiled Desire

  Veiled Seduction

  Ensnaring the ultimate bad boy has its risks…and its rewards.

  Hot as Hades

  © 2011 Alisha Rai

  It’s not easy being Hades. Constantly guarding his world against other meddling and ambitious deities is stressful work. So when a naked goddess falls directly into his lap, along with the news that he has to shelter her for the indefinite future, he is less than thrilled. Particularly since he can’t help but lust after the beautiful female.

  The Underworld isn’t the first place Persephone would pick for a vacation—who in their right mind would choose a dark palace over sunshine and flowers? Yet from Hades’s first touch, the dark, sexy ruler fascinates her and has her thinking a fling might be just the thing to while away her confinement.

  But trust each other? Not a chance. Until the day comes that Persephone must leave…and they realize that trusting each other is the only way they’ll ever meet again.

  Warning: Contains an arrogant god, a stubborn goddess, horny deity nookie and enough supernatural friction to set the Underworld on fire.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Hot as Hades:

  Persephone preceded him into his office. He shut the door loudly. The click of the lock made her jump. He liked it when she was a little unsure. The hint of vulnerability appealed to him, particularly when she was doing her lady-of-the-manor act the rest of the time.

  Keeping her guessing was a fun game, so instead of rushing to get her naked, he went to his desk and sat in his chair. He took his time making himself comfortable before crooking his finger at her in a way that he was certain would raise her blood pressure.

  She didn’t love orders, his Persephone. Indeed, her eyes narrowed, and he waited for her to snort at his imperious, silent command.

  But a small smile curved her lips, and she sashayed over to stand in front of him, her dress rippling and briefly defining her legs.

  He raised a brow. “You’re in the mood to obey me?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Why?”

  Her smile grew wider. “Because you want me to disobey you.”

  Fuck, but she could read him like a book, and he didn’t like that. He was so contrary, he wanted to reward her earlier kind words and actions by proving her wrong, proving that he was no saint. His dominant, autocratic side stretched out of slumber, not that it ever rested for long. “Take off your dress. With your hands,” he added, so she wouldn’t simply dematerialize it.

  She raised her hands to the buttons that ran along the front of the dress. Pearl buttons on a pale pink dress—it was his fantasy, his secret kink, innocence on the verge of being despoiled.

  The little V of skin at her throat widened as she released each button, showing him that glorious unblemished flesh. Every time he saw that skin, his selfish, territorial nature made him want to mark it, to claim it as his. He had to forcibly remind himself that Persephone and her skin’s presence in his life was strictly temporary.

  A snarl sounded, and he realized by her startled expression that it came from him. She would leave him sooner or later.

  But for now…now, she was his. Focus on this moment.

  And there was so much to focus on, particularly when she shrugged the dress off her shoulders, surprising him with the lacy white corset she wore underneath. The garment propped up her breasts, her nipples peeking out from the lace like confections on a cupcake. It was sensory overload, the erotic snatches of her body almost too much to take in at once. Corset. No panties. Garters. A combination of silken flesh and material.

  He realized he had been staring at her without speaking when she shifted her weight. “Touch yourself,” he ordered.

  A flush spread over her exposed breasts. “Where?”

  Anywhere. Everywhere. “Your tits. Play with them.” He deliberately used the cruder word, wanting to shock her into refusing him, perverse bastard that he was.


  She didn’t refuse him, though, simply cupped those gloriously full mounds. Her fingers worked the hard nipples, her head falling back with a small moan as she massaged them.

  His cock grew harder, pressing against the weight of his trousers, but he knew if he allowed himself release, it would be over before it began. Her legs spread wider as she toyed with her breasts. One delicate hand started to trail down her body to the open lips of her pussy.

  Hades allowed her to get as far as her lower belly before he spoke. “Stop.”

  She didn’t listen, her fingers tangling in her pubic hair.

  “Persephone. Stop.”

  She jerked and stared at him, confused and primed for release.

  “Come here.” Hades swore the heady scent of sun and flowers clung to her skin, wafting under his nose as she walked closer to him. “Turn around.”

  She hesitated but turned when he made a twirling gesture. Her ass was full and round, bare but framed by the garter and corset. It made an enticing picture.

  Paying no attention to her jump of surprise, he palmed a cheek and roughly massaged the flesh. “I love your ass,” he murmured. “I love your whole body. It’s like it was made for me. Only for me.”

  It took him a second to realize the import of what he’d bleated aloud. Growling in frustration at himself, he grabbed her hips and spun her around. She teetered, steadying after she grasped his forearms for balance.

  “Take me out,” he demanded. He spread his legs to give her room to work the buttons on his trousers, which were stretched tight over the bulge of his erection. The slightly bent-over position she was in made her tits hang down like ripe fruit. Unable to resist, he leaned forward and licked the top of those mounds, finding them delicious as usual. She stiffened, her hands stopping their work. He released his hold on the chair’s arms to cradle her breasts and bring them to his mouth. He knew what pleased her. She always liked it when he sucked hard, lashing at the nipple with his tongue, so he did that now, bringing a high-pitched cry from her mouth.

  “Don’t stop,” he drew away to tell her. “Take me out. Play with me.”

  She trembled. He loved it when he made her shake with need. It made him feel ten feet tall. “I can’t concentrate,” she said.

  He released her, giving no heed to her pitiful whimper. “Then I’ll stop distracting you.”

  “Jerk.”

  The word lacked heat, and he grinned. He’d come to read her body well, and he knew she needed him badly. “On your knees, female. Maybe that will help you focus.”

  She shot him a mock-glare. Her fingers resumed their mission as she sank to the subservient position. He had to grit his teeth as those delicate fingers touched and rubbed him through the leather. When she finally managed to get the fly open, his cock almost ran out to greet her, pushing into her hands. The blessed feel of her warm palm over him made him want to shout for joy and pump into her hand for as long as necessary to get him off.

  “Persephone…” He shoved his hips up, groaning as her hand slipped up the shaft and back down, the better to feel that softness all around him.

  “What order would you like to give me now, Lord Hades?”

  He slit his eyes at her mocking emphasis on Lord. Impertinent baggage. “Make me come.”

  Her hand jacked him again, and he spread his legs wider, an invitation to continue. Idly, as if she wasn’t kneeling at his feet in a scandalous corset and playing with his naked cock, she tilted her head. “With my hands? Or my mouth?”

  He swallowed, the thought of Persephone’s lips wrapped around his cock filling his head. He had a particular fondness for blowjobs but had rarely been able to find anyone who was willing to bestow that favor. Because he was bigger and more powerful than most females, he always had the distasteful impression that he was forcing his partner.

  However, if Persephone chose to grace him with her mouth…

  He said nothing, and she smiled. “I do remember you saying something about drinking your come.”

  His cock jerked at the memory, the dirty words he’d roughly muttered while lost in a haze of sexual need. Without any warning, she licked the vein running along the side of his cock. He gasped, and his hands flew to her shoulders, the little lick punching into his stomach.

  “I guess you like this,” he half-heard her say. Unable to care if her tone held the proper amount of respect for him, he threaded his hands through her hair.

  “More,” he said, aware that he was pleading.

  This time, the straight-and-narrow path could be the road to ruin.

  Degrees of Wrong

  © 2012 Anna Scarlett

  Dr. Elyse Morgan’s mission: find the cure to the HTN4 virus. The compensation, courtesy of the United Nations: a lab stocked with hi-tech goodies, limitless resources and enough chocolate to make her rear look like a cellulite farm. Bonus: she gets to live.

  Rescued (kidnapped) and secreted (imprisoned) on an undersea warship, Elyse adjusts to her assumed identity as a cadet with the finesse of a toeless ballerina. Her sulfuric temper and blatant insubordination capture the unwanted attention of the ship’s captain, the gorgeous, infuriating, engaged Nicoli Marek.

  Elyse would rather perform her own autopsy than become the other woman, but Nicoli—who’s as full of himself as he is of secrets—regards his impending marriage as a mere political transaction. And Elyse as fair game.

  As Elyse’s suspicions about the UN’s true agenda mount along with her attraction to the relentless, chronically shirtless captain, she must choose between the murky path to everything she’s ever wanted, or the squeaky-clean path of self-sacrifice—which could mean taking the secrets of the virus with her to the grave.

  Warning: Features a strong, chocolate-loving heroine who takes no prisoners on the way to saving the world from an epidemic and winning a captain’s heart.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Degrees of Wrong:

  Enthusiastically announcing myself to the alarm, I entered the torture chamber and made a sweeping inspection of my deserted surroundings. The gym offered at least two dozen virtual joggers, a luxurious spread of weight machines and free weights, an army of resistance-training equipment and an array of unidentifiable—at least to me—apparatus stationed throughout the large room. The walls presented themselves as mirrors, and hard rubber floors supported the heavy machinery. It smelled delightfully of sweat and hard work, of pain and suffering, of adrenaline and— Something moved over in the corner.

  Startled out of my poetic observation, I scrutinized the area of movement by the free weights. The mirrors made it difficult to discern the real from the reflection, obscuring the equipment into a muddle of metal.

  And then, to my horror, my gaze rested on the origin of movement.

  A sweaty Captain Marek stepped out from behind a machine and stopped as if paralyzed. We must have seen each other at the same time—he regarded me with the same shocked expression I knew I wasn’t hiding on my face.

  “Uh, Dr. Morgan? Can I help you?”

  With what? “No.” At least I managed to answer his question in my state of stupor.

  “No? What are you doing here, then?” he asked, his pointed question ringing with wariness.

  Taken aback, I blurted, “Having a tea party. Would you like to join? One lump or two?” It was high time I owned up to having a bad temper. This was my sixth or so chance to make a good first impression and I’d already murdered it.

  To my surprise, relief dominated his exquisite features. I realized then why he was here at this late hour—to avoid his fan club. As it turned out, Captain Marek didn’t care for center stage, either. And the main attraction he would be, as he’d obviously forgotten to bring his shirt along for his workout session—a fact I tried desperately to ignore.

  “I see,” he said. I thought he might grin and hoped he wouldn’t. My heart rate could only take so much. “Regretfully, I’ll have to decline your invitation. But I must ask why you’re choosing to conduct your tea party at this
late hour.”

  “I might ask the same of you, Captain,” I clipped, offended that he thought I’d come here to ogle him. I may not be able to resist the urge to ogle him while I was here, but I didn’t come specifically to do so.

  He paused—I could tell he was searching for a politically correct way to tell me he didn’t like to be gawked at. Also, he wasn’t used to being answered with a question. I felt certain he would adjust.

  “I—prefer to work out alone, so I come late at night. The quiet helps me concentrate.” He studied my face for a reaction. I wondered what he saw. “What about you? I’ve never seen you here before.”

  I shrugged, a little ashamed that this was indeed my first visit to the gym. “I’ve been staying late in the lab and just remembered tonight that there’s a gym here. I figured the physical activity would help me sleep.”

  He tilted his head. “You’re having difficulty sleeping?”

  I cringed inwardly for divulging that and decided evasion was my best bet. I didn’t want to rehash the events of my nightmares—and certainly not to him.

  “Yes. Tell me, Captain, do you come here at the same time every evening?”

  His curiosity changed to caution again. Apparently he still considered me a potential stalker.

  Mortified, I continued quickly, “Because if you do, I have a proposal.”

  “A proposal?”

  Perhaps I could’ve chosen my wording better. The man was going to develop a complex. And I was getting—even more—impatient.

  “Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I prefer to be alone too. So, I propose a joint custody. You tell me when you’ll be here in the evenings, and I’ll come before or after you. That way, we have no chance of running into each other. Ever.” Although, I was beginning to doubt that myself. I hadn’t seen this man for the two weeks since my arrival, and suddenly he appears three times in one day. There was no way I wasn’t dreaming about him tonight. Great.