by Carolan Ivey
She’d been having the same dream nearly every night for the last week. Him kissing her mouth, her breasts, her pussy. Him fucking her while keeping her gaze locked to his. His tongue, his teeth, his fingers, his cum spurting hot inside her. She’d barely been able to sleep since she set out on this mission three days ago. And when she had slept, her dreams had been so erotic and so…demanding she woke up as exhausted as when she’d stretched out on her pallet the night before.
She turned again and the bedroll bunched beneath her. In a fit of irritation, she finally threw the blanket off and sat up. And saw the shadows closing in around her.
She surged to her feet, sword in hand, with a speed and grace she hoped the robbers would recognize. She hated to kill people just for being stupid enough to attack someone like her.
As the shadows stepped into the faint light from the crescent moon, she realized they weren’t ordinary robbers. Their linen shirts were too clean, their leather trousers and bracers too well-repaired, their weapons and steel breastplates too well-made and maintained. Seven of them in all. Mercenaries, she guessed, noting the rough look of them despite the high-grade of their gear. She turned in a small circle as they surrounded her, gauging their movements.
“I give you fair warning,” she said, studying their faces. “Put up your swords and leave. Now. And I won’t kill you.”
As she’d expected, the standard warning was met with derisive laughter. She shook her head. Mercenaries, of all people, should understand what it meant to face a sword sworn of the Aleanian Temple. “Very well.” She lifted her sword. “Shall we?”
And she grinned.
If her movements hadn’t given her away, her grin should have. Still they came at her, an all-out attack, seven at once. Not the best tactics, she thought as she danced away from them and into the clear, using only the briefest flicker of mind-hazing. The mercenaries got in each other’s way, too many swords in too tight an area. They adapted quickly though. When they turned on her this time, they attacked two or three at a time.
She laughed as the fight got underway, rejoiced in the feel of her muscles moving, her skills being tried, her mind sharp and focused. Seven opponents was a good number—enough to make her work and stretch, not too many for her to handle. She twisted away from an awkward swing by one man, countered a blow by another, and disarmed a third with a back swing. As the disarmed man scrambled for his sword, another took his place. She didn’t rush to incapacitate them. She was having too much fun. But she knew she’d have to take care of them soon. No point in exhausting herself. She still had a long way to go before she reached Dorjan’s lands.
She hated to kill them, though. They were just doing a job. A job she had no doubt Dorjan had funded. But she couldn’t afford to have them at her back either. Maybe if she gave them a thorough enough beating… She disarmed two men and faced the four converging on her.
Suddenly, the air around them darkened, inky blackness too solid to be real. Rowena and the seven mercenaries stilled and looked around. A flash of blinding light, a crack like thunder. And a dark figure rose up in front of Rowena.
Even with his back to her, he was obviously male. His broad, thickly muscled body was encased in leather trousers and vest. His dark blond hair hung just above his collar in a tempting disarray of waves. What she could see of his pale skin gleamed silver in the moonlight.
The stranger raised a sword in front of him. From her position, Rowena watched the long blade come up over his head. The steel glowed purple.
The mercenaries backed away from the man, their weapons at the ready. Rowena kept a tight grip on her own sword in case the stranger turned. A moment later, the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She heard the soft rumble of the stranger’s voice, chanting, quiet, vibrating through her bones. She sucked in a breath and it felt as if the air had thinned.
Another blinding flash of light and power rolled over her in a heart-stopping wave. She dropped to one knee, ducking her head to brace against the storm winds of his spell. For an instant, all air was sucked away and she couldn’t breathe. And then as suddenly as it happened, the light faded, the air calmed, and the dark night fell quiet.
Rowena dragged in a lungful of air, blinked to clear spots from her eyes and raised her head. All seven mercenaries lay unmoving, their swords blown beyond their grasp. She looked up at the stranger just as he turned around. Their gazes locked. It took a second, no more, before she recognized him, before the jolt of his presence ricocheted through her body.
She rose slowly to her feet, never taking her gaze from his green eyes. When she stood at her full 5’10” height, she straightened her shoulders, flicked a glance at the downed mercs, and said, “Kael, you bastard. You ruined a perfectly good fight. What the hell are you doing here?”
Dark eyebrows rose and his sexy mouth twitched at one corner. “Rowena,” he murmured in a voice that made her thighs clench. “It’s good to see you again too.”
Honor among thieves…
Thief of Hearts
© 2007 J.C. Wilder
Harper McRae was a woman on a mission. When she’d retired from the life of a professional thief, she never dreamed it would be a family member who forced her back into it. With her stepbrother’s reputation on the line, she accepts the task to steal blackmail material a local mobster was using against him. In the midst of one of the most important jobs of her career, she runs into a shadowy figure from her past, Chance, the man who’d broken her heart.
Can two thieves trust each other long enough to escape with their lives?
Enjoy the following excerpt for Thief of Hearts.
Was it too much to hope that he’d pined for her, gotten fat and lost his hair She was annoyed that his dark hair was loose and the thick waves made her fingers itch to touch them. He wore a black turtleneck, black jeans and a black leather belt around his still-slim waist.
Her gaze caught on his firm backside. She’d always loved his ass. It was high, tight—he ran for miles every morning—and the perfect size to sink her nails into as he’d thrust into her. Chase had the stamina of three men and was able to maintain an erection for hours. In bed, he was every woman’s dream
Too bad he was a complete, amoral dick outside of it.
The safe door opened with a metallic sigh and she glanced at her watch. Two minutes.
Figured.
“You always were good at safe cracking,” she muttered.
“And you are quite talented with lock picks, much more so than I.” He gave her a wide smile and she couldn’t help but return it. “That’s why we made such a good team—you were strong in my weakest areas and I was strong in yours.” He handed her the microphone.
“And you had so many weaknesses,” she drawled.
“You were my biggest weakness and you know it.”
Her smile froze. “Your biggest weakness was screwing around with other women and that had nothing to do with me.”
“No, my biggest weakness was a King Kong sized ego coupled with immaturity and you’re right, it had nothing to do with you.” He pulled out the same envelopes Harper had held just minutes before.
She blinked. “Honesty? What a concept.”
He shrugged. “It’s been a long time, Harper. I’m not the boy you once knew.”
“And for that the world is grateful, I’m sure. I’m only glad I discovered your philandering before I made the mistake of marrying you.”
His movements slowed and his head came up. His dark gaze met hers. “So you would’ve married me at some point?”
“Possibly.” Uncomfortable, she shrugged. “Who knows what would’ve happened if you’d have kept your dick in your pants?”
In reality she’d been dying to marry him though she’d had doubts about his fidelity long before it had been confirmed. It had seemed that every time she’d turned around a different woman was throwing herself at him. His handsome face and accent drew them in and with no effort on his part. While he didn’t encourage them,
he also didn’t do anything to discourage them. She’d loved him with all the passion her twenty-four-year-old heart had possessed, and he’d crushed it with his carelessness.
He chuckled and resumed flipping through the envelopes. “You always were blunt.” He selected two, folded them in half then slid them into his back pocket.
“And you always were a shameless charmer.” She shoved away from the desk and headed toward the balcony door. “And I need to leave before we’re caught in here.”
“Ah, not quite so fast.” He replaced the envelopes and shut the door before swinging the painting back into place. “How were you planning to get out of here?”
“Are you talking about this room or the house in general?” She looked down at her party dress. “Through the front door. I, unlike others,” her gaze moved over his mouthwatering physique, “was invited to this event and I have every right to be here.”
“But not in this room.”
“Yeah, well, when one invites people to their house they can only expect that someone will be nosy.” She headed for the balcony door. “Have a good time making your getaway.”
“Harper—”
A noise sounded from the hallway and her heart almost stopped. There was a jingle of keys then a muffled curse.
“I’m telling you, I heard someone in here,” a voice hissed from the other side of the door.
Harper spun and scrambled for the door and Chase cut her off.
“We’ll never make it,” he hissed. His iron hand caught her wrist and hauled her toward the couch. “Lay down.”
“W-what?” She gaped at him.
“Now, Harper.”
“But—”
One minute she was standing and the next she was on her back. His big body covered hers, crushing her into the supple leather of the couch. He grabbed her light and turned it off, shoving it into her bra. His scent, familiar and arousing, invaded her senses even as he forced her legs apart. He draped one over the back of the couch.
“Just go with it, Harper. Our lives may depend upon it.”
Stunned, she heard the doorknob rattle even as Chase ripped her panties with a single yank. The fragile silk gave way beneath his brutal assault, leaving her bare, exposed. He tore off his gloves then reached between her thighs, parting her damp flesh with nimble fingers. He scooted down her body to perch between her thighs.
His mouth covered her and she moaned, her back arched when his tongue zeroed in on her clit. One finger entered her vagina only to be followed by a second, stretching her, filling her with heat, friction. This man, only this man, had known how to turn her on with a single-mindedness that had never failed to steal her breath.
His tongue stroked her aroused flesh and Harper closed her eyes. Hunger, a hunger she hadn’t realized even existed, clawed at her mind and ravaged her body. Against her will, her back arched higher to press against his talented mouth, her hips moving in response to his finger thrusts. Desperate to hold him in place until she received the release she craved, she clenched at his silky hair until her hands fisted. His tongue aggressively stroked her aroused flesh, each touch sent tension to spiral throughout her body.
Harper knew she was lost when, even as the door opened and someone hit the light switch, she came apart with a powerful scream.
Abhainn’s Kiss
Carolan Ivey
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Abhainn’s Kiss
Copyright © 2007 by Carolan Ivey
Cover by Anne Cain
ISBN: 1-59998-488-1
www.samhainpublishing.com
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2007
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