She got out of the car and stretched, yawning hugely, dead center of the hotel’s elaborate entrance while Steve came around the car. Hand on her elbow—so going to die—he led her into an opulently designed, massive foyer.
She’d heard about The Wake, the hotel known for round-the-clock Rêves. Very exclusive. The décor evoked the surreal sensibility of the dreamwaters—proportions all larger than life, yet slightly warped, colors vivid red and purple. Erotic shadows of figures lurked in corners, shifting depending on the position of the patron, to beckon a dreamer deeper. Even though the foyer was enormous and grand, it swallowed sound rather than make it echo and overlap.
The registration desk banked an entire wall far off to one side and was manned by no less than twenty uniformed smiley people. The place was supposed to be booked solid for a couple years.
“This way,” Steve said, tugging her toward the slightly bigger desk with gold V.I.P. emblazoned on the front. He was such a cop.
Scowling, she allowed him to lead and then folded her arms on the high desk and put her head down.
“My wife and I would like to check in.”
Maisie snorted and lifted her head again to address the clerk. “Do I look like his wife?”
The ruse was ridiculous. Just look at him.
During the drive, Steve had taken off his tie and grey suit jacket, and he’d opened the top button on his white dress shirt, but that’s about as chill as she’d ever seen him. She guessed the rest of him might be attractive to some women, if they could get past what a jerk he was. He had a good body, and his green eyes were sort of pretty, if they weren’t always looking right into her, trying to find out her secrets. Good voice, too. Altogether he was a decent enough package to make someone’s parents happy, just too ordinary and uptight for her.
The clerk paused, glancing back and forth between them, expression blank.
“We’re deeply in love,” Steve said. “The King Suite, please.”
The clerk’s expression warmed. “Mr. and Mrs. Coll?”
Steve nodded. “Yes.”
Maisie groaned. Maybe she was in a nightmare. That’s what it was. She was trapped in a nightmare, sleeping soundly on her sister’s sofa.
“We were expecting you. Thank you for selecting The Wake for your stay. Walk with me to your private elevator. I’ll take you up personally.” The clerk held a large black portfolio in one arm.
Private elevator? Maisie pressed her lips together, considering.
Steve dared to take her elbow again, but she allowed it. Seemed Chimera had sprung for a good room.
They walked to an inconspicuous tuck in the wall, which turned out to be a short hallway terminating in an elevator. An attendant waiting outside straightened at their approach. He used a key in the wall, and the elevator doors slid open immediately. The interior was a deep gray velvet-and-leather box, spacious, but clearly intended for private use.
Maisie stared at herself in the mirrored panel that flanked the closing doors. She looked like hell. Sleep would’ve helped, but it wouldn’t erase the fear in her own eyes. No amount of effort, no drug, no silly joke would.
She’d seen evil. Her instinct was to run away, not toward, though really nowhere in the waking world was safe. At least Jordan would be okay. Graeme would simply have to cut his losses where Big Sis was concerned, because she was off limits and safe among the Chimera.
Maisie had no such luck. He’d said she knew too much, had seen too much. And she had.
She glanced at Steve, the Chimera who’d said he’d wanted to help her, and found him blandly watching her looking at herself in the glass.
Rat bucket. Definitely.
The elevator opened into a large room with a sweeping view of the dirty blue, late-afternoon Vegas skyline.
Maisie stepped inside, glancing around to note the stainless-steel kitchen, the lux sunken living room, and the spiral stairs to the second floor.
Okay. Maybe she could be Mrs. Steve for a day before killing him.
The clerk put the big black portfolio on a circular table in the middle of the atrium and opened it to display menus, spa brochures, and tickets. “Our personal shopper has filled the closet. The dedicated Rêve room is on the second floor of your suite. If you need assistance, aRêvellier is always available to assist you. There’s a private poker game at midnight tonight, but I can secure an invitation, if you’re interested. Your reserve covers the minimum. Per your request, I’ve made reservations for dinner at seven at Coquin. If there is anything else you need, feel free to call down.”
Maisie wandered deeper into the suite to find a glass wall that separated the living space from a roof pool. She loved swimming. Had been on the high school team before Mom died.
When she turned around, Steve was standing a pace behind her. The clerk had gone.
Maisie lifted her eyebrows high to show the how impressed she was. “You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”
“We may need a dedicated Rêve, and this one is hardlined into the Agora.”
Maisie’s eyebrows dropped and she made a face. The Agora was the aggregation of all the Rêves, the commercial shared dreams, under the purview of Chimera, who policed them. Kept people from misbehaving. But really, weren’t dreams meant for mischief?
“So what now?” she asked.
“Now you make contact with your people.”
“They’re not my people. And no.” Graeme was very unhappy with her at the moment.
“It’s the reason we are here: to unequivocally extricate you from their company.”
“I can take care of that on my own. I had been. I don’t need you to do it for me. I never asked for your help.”
His lips parted in silent surprise, a small victory for her. But, shit, he recovered. “Yeah, you did. You even said those words. Can you help me?”
Ugh. She hated people with good memories. “I meant with information, not taking over my life.”
“Maisie, they’re never going to let you go. You’re too valuable.”
The man was misinformed. “I was a courier. I delivered shit, that’s all.”
His green eyes went hard. “Maisie, one in five million people can cross from Rêve to Rêve on their own. Maybe one in ten million can cross into someone’s personal dreamspace without being invited or brought in by that individual.”
He made her stomach hurt with his statistics.
“You did it,” she said. He’d infiltrated her dreams to find her once before.
“I’m special, too,” he said, deadpan.
“And Rook.”
“I recruited him, just like I’m trying to do with you.”
“Jordan?” Her sister.
“I imagine, once trained, she’ll be able to as well.”
Maisie opened her arms wide. “Then there’s got to be even more.”
Because Steve’s odds—one in ten million?—meant, yeah, Graeme would have a hard time replacing her. And the man liked his packages delivered on time, or else he got a little…unstable.
The money had been good though.
“Aptitude like yours is very difficult to come by,” Steve said. “Chimera can offer you refuge from those who would force your cooperation.”
God, not the pitch again.
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to be one of you, man.”
The dream police. The very concept was offensive. Dreams were free space. Happy space. Dreams were where she could be herself. And herself wasn’t some anal marshal telling people what they could and couldn’t do in wonderland.
She had other plans, had just made a small misstep, that’s all. But she could figure it out. She would. She had her dream on the line, too.
“Well, it’s not even an option if you’re still involved with these people.”
“I don’t get what’s in it for you if you know I won’t join up.” Because she was being perfectly honest here. Her sister was the rule follower. The joiner. Not her.
“For starters, y
our current bosses will be out one very important component of their efforts to set up business in the dreamwaters. They’ll be limited to Rêves, where Chimera can manage them, not spreading like a suffocating oil slick.” He cocked his head. “Unless you plan to go back to them?”
“No,” she said defensively. No amount of money was worth the horror of that last delivery. It was, to borrow Steve’s word, oily. Nothing would wash it away. The memory made her heart beat faster, the drive to run almost compulsive.
Except now she was trapped. Graeme wouldn’t cut her loose because he had no one else to do her job.
The suite’s phone rang, and Steve stepped to the side of the sofa to pick up the receiver. “Yes?”
Damnit. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from shaking. She didn’t know what to do anymore. Graeme was going to kill both of them. Two rat buckets to go, please.
“Who is this?”
Maisie zeroed in on the call. Steve was looking at her again with his trademark serioso intensity that made her skin crawl.
“You can speak to me,” he said. “Ms. Lane is under new management.”
Incredulous, she turned away. Her eyes were welling and she didn’t want him to see. Steve just didn’t get it. Evil that big and bad would squash him—and her—like a bug.
They should run. Or since they just happened to be in Vegas, they should party hard, because this was the last day they’d be alive.
“No, that’s not what’s going to happen,” he said.
A harsh laugh escaped her. Either Steve had a really big package down his trousers or he had zero clue who he was dealing with. She had to come up with a plan. Her brain just wasn’t working so well at the moment. Again, sleep deprivation. Asshole.
“We’ll meet you at six in front of the Bellagio fountains. We have dinner reservations tonight so we can’t be long.”
Zero clue. As in zilch.
Steve listened for a last second, said, “We’ll see,” and then hung up.
When he didn’t immediately offer information, Maisie turned, uncrossed an arm, and made an impatient gesture. “Well?”
“We’re meeting a Mr. Graeme at six. You have just enough time to shower and change. Coquin has four stars, so I’d recommend you wear something nice.”
Steve was insane. “Graeme’s going to kills us. You know that, right?”
“Not tonight he won’t,” he told her. “Definitely not before we eat.”
Lay Me Down
Able to navigate sleep’s vast dreamwaters, wild child Maisie Lane makes easy money as a courier delivering packages from one dream to another. So what if her employers are on the shadier side of the law? Her sister thinks she’s living for the pleasure of the moment. Pleasure is involved—why shouldn’t it be?—but every step Maisie takes is part of a meticulous plan. That is, until she crosses into a dream so evil, she has no choice but to run.
Special Agent Steve Coll is tasked to recruit Maisie for Chimera, the organization that polices shared dreams. At first he’s taken with her funny and carefree spirit, then brought to his knees by her tough and passionate soul. Touching her is forbidden ecstasy, but Steve can’t resist breaking the rules with Maisie. A darkness is gathering, evil preparing to strike, and only Maisie stands between it and innocent lives. No matter what happens, Steve won’t let her stand alone—he’ll die before he leaves her side.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Erin Kellison is the USA Today bestselling and award-winning author of the Shadow series and Shadow Kissed series, which share the same world, where dark fantasy meets modern fairy tale. RT calls her latest, Soul Kissed, “a dark fairy tale with a twist, perfect for readers who love passion with their fantasy.” Delve into dreamscapes in her new Reveler series, releasing Spring 2014.
Find out more about Erin at:
Website: www.ErinKellison.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/erinkellisonauthor
Twitter: www.twitter.com/ekellison
Pinterest: www.Pinterest.com/ErinKellison
Goodreads: www.Goodreads.com/ErinKellison
For the latest news on upcoming releases, subscribe to Erin’s newsletter.
Read more excerpts at ErinKellison.com
BOOKS BY ERIN KELLISON
Reveler Series
DARKNESS FALLS
LAY ME DOWN
UNTITLED (May 2014)
Shadow Series
SHADOW BOUND
SHADOW FALL
SHADOWMAN
Shadow Kissed Series
A spin-off novel series set in the Shadow world
FIRE KISSED
SOUL KISSED
NIGHT KISSED (Fall 2014)
Shadow Touch Novella Series
A novella series set in the Shadow world
SHADOW TOUCH
SHADOW PLAY
SHADOW HUNT
SHADOW BURN (Fall 2014)
Hotter On The Edge Anthologies
Anthologies of science fiction romance novellas
HOTTER ON THE EDGE
HOTTER ON THE EDGE 2
Rogue's Passion
by Laurie London
Hidden within the rugged mountains of the Pacific Northwest, Iron Portals separate the modern and ancient worlds. Only a chosen few, Warriors of the Iron Guild, know their locations.
For years, Olivia Crawford has kept a low profile in order keep her para-ability a secret. If the army finds out she’s a Healer-Talent, they’ll force her to work for them—just like her twin brother who was taken as a boy and never seen again. When a terrible explosion rocks New Seattle, she risks everything to save the injured, including a handsome stranger with secrets of his own.
Blaming himself for the death of a friend, Iron Guild warrior Asher Kane vows to bring those responsible to justice. After being hurt on a mission and nursed back to health by a beautiful yet mysterious woman, this no-strings-attached bad-boy finds himself falling for her…even as he struggles to stay away.
But stalking Olivia on the streets of New Seattle is a cruel and vengeful evil—one that threatens to destroy them both…
Table of Contents for ROGUE'S PASSION
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Assassin's Touch - Preview Chapter
About the Author
Books by Laurie London
CHAPTER 1
“Asher, hold up,” Toryn whispered through clenched teeth. “You can’t do this. You know you’re not—”
His friend’s words faded behind him as Asher Kane jumped off the fire escape, landing on the wet pavement like a wild animal ready to pounce.
The man in the dingy alley sputtered and staggered backwards.
Asher lunged and grabbed him by the collar, shoving him against the brick wall and toppling a few empty garbage cans in the process.
The bloke had a thin mustache, dark, greasy hair, and breath that smelled like cigarettes and cheap whiskey. A squirrelly sonofabitch, all right. Just like Fallon had described. Couldn’t weigh more than eight or nine stone, he thought, as he jammed his forearm against the guy’s windpipe.
“Don’t hurt me,” the man choked. “I swear I don’t have any money. Check my pockets if you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t want your bloody money,” Asher growled.
“Then what do you want?”
For my frie
nd to be alive. “Information. You have it. I want it.”
The man’s beady eyes brightened like a rat’s at the smell of peanut butter. “It’ll cost you.”
Asher laughed bitterly and shoved him again. The guy was either greedy or stupid. Or both. “You’re not in a position to bargain with anything other than your life.”
“I’ve got friends, you know. Guys who will beat the shit out of you if something happens to me.”
“Is that right?” He opened his motorcycle jacket, exposing a few of the weapons strapped to his body. “Well, guess what? I knew someone with a friend like that. And that someone is dead now, thanks to you.” He leaned in close, trying not to inhale. “Although when something happens to one of my best mates, I prefer killing the one responsible rather than simply beating the shit out of him.”
With his free hand, Asher pulled out a razor-sharp dagger and held it up. The blade flashed in the dim light from the streetlamp at the end of the alley, and the guy’s eyes went full-moon wide. Struggling to get free, he made a high-pitched mewling sound.
People always went a little crazy when they saw the knife. Like many warriors of the Iron Guild, Asher favored weapons made from cold-forged Balkirk steel. It was said they held the memories of those whose blood they had spilled, making them even more fearsome to the enemy. He’d been sicker than a dog after he brought the thing through the portal, but it was moments like these that made it all worthwhile.
“What the fuck, dude?” The man’s bulging eyes darted left and right as if he were looking for support in the empty alleyway. He wasn’t going to get it, however. Asher and Toryn had followed him for a while to make sure he was completely alone. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Word is, you turned my friend over to the army. And they killed him.” Asher’s tone was as deadly as the edge of his blade.
Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance Page 56
