Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (115 page)

They could only speculate, yet it
appeared that Louise had become an innocent victim of a war she
hadn't even known about.

The best that Sam could understand,
Bill picked his victims out of numerous loving couples where the
man had been supposedly considered to be 'the best' man –
theoretically underlining that, Bill himself, wasn't good
enough.

Sam didn't understand the psychology
of it all. Who could understand a twisted mind like his? Who would
want to?

Stefan had even shown up at her cabin
during the first week of convalescence, threatening to do her
serious harm if she ever got herself into that situation again.
Said it had cost him ten years off his life. He'd also pulled her
training forward to avoid a repeat of this mess.

Sam smiled. Stefan was a special man
and she loved knowing he was in her life. They had a closeness that
she had never known was possible. She could only imagine it was
similar to the relationship between twins.

As for her and Brandt, well they were
slowly adjusting to life as a couple. They both had things to learn
and Sam wasn't sure she was ready to live together, although the
topic was under discussion. At the same time, she didn't sleep
nearly as well alone. Not that she had the chance to.

It was Brandt who refused to sleep
alone. According to him, he was planning on always waking up with
her beside him. She hoped he meant it. She wanted to believe in a
'happily ever after.'

Her visions weren't ever going to
stop, but she'd become accustomed to them. It wasn't about
accepting them any longer, it was about understanding and utilizing
them. Progress.

Her visions didn't make
her an easy partner, then Brandt's job wouldn't be easy on her.
They'd work it out. For the first time ever, she could see a
future. It was bright and rosy. She'd like to have had a vision
that told her Brandt was her future and she'd be spending the next
forty years happily at his side, but as she'd found out, visions
didn't work that way.

***

Brandt glanced at Sam, standing at
his side, staring out over the water. He couldn't help but feel
protective of this woman, so slight, so strong, and so damaged.
She'd been a tormented soul who walked with one foot on the dark
side of the universe. Now there was a lightness to her.

She was everything to him. He stepped
closer, wrapping his arms protectively around her shoulders. He'd
do anything to keep her safe. In this world and the next. They were
a matched set. Their future wouldn't be the standard two-storey
house and white picket fence life. No. But it would have its own
rewards.

And he was going to make sure they
received each and every one of them.

Hide'n Go Seek

A twisted game of Hide'n
Go Seek forces an unlikely alliance between a no-nonsense FBI agent
and a search-and-rescue worker.

Celebrated search-and-rescue worker
Kali Jordon has hidden her psychic abilities by crediting her
canine partner Shiloh with the recoveries. But Kali knows the grim
truth. The Sight that she inherited from her grandmother allows her
to trace violent energy unerringly to victims of murder. No one
knows her secret until a twisted killer challenges her to a deadly
game of Hide'n Go Seek that threatens those closest to
her.

Now she must rely on FBI Special
Agent Grant Summers, a man who has sworn to protect her, even as he
suspects there's more to Kali and Shiloh than meets the eye. As the
killer draws a tighter and tighter circle around Kali, she and
Grant find there's no place to hide from themselves.

Are her visions the key
to finding the latest victim alive or will this twisted game of
Hide'n Go Seek cost her...everything?

Touched by Death – adult
RS/thriller

Death had touched
anthropologist Jade Hansen in Haiti once before, costing her an
unborn child and perhaps her very sanity.

A year later, determined to face her
own issues, she returns to Haiti with a mortuary team to recover
the bodies of an American family from a mass grave. Visiting his
brother after the quake, independent contractor Dane Carter puts
his life on hold to help the sleepy town of Jacmel rebuild. But he
finds it hard to like his brother's pregnant wife or her family. He
wants to go home, until he meets Jade – and realizes what's missing
in his own life. When the mortuary team begins work, it's as if
malevolence has been released from the earth. Instead of laying her
ghosts to rest, Jade finds herself confronting death and terror
again.

And the man who
unexpectedly awakens her heart – is right in the middle of it
all.

About
t
he author:

Dale Mayer is a prolific
multi-published writer. She's best known for her Psychic Visions
series. Besides her romantic suspense/thrillers, Dale also writes
paranormal romance and crossover young adult books in several
different genres. To go with her fiction, she also writes
nonfiction in many different fields with books available on resume
writing, companion gardening and the US mortgage system. All her
books are available in digital and print formats.

Published Young Adult
books include:

Family Blood Ties
Series

Vampire in Denial

Vampire in Distress

Vampire in Design

Vampire in Deceit

Design Trilogy

Dangerous Designs

Deadly Designs

Darkest Designs

In Cassie's Corner

Gem Stone

Published Adult
Books:

Psychic Vision
Series:

Tuesday's Child

Hide'n Go Seek

Maddy's Floor

Garden of Sorrow

Knock, Knock…

Second Chances…at Love
Series

Second Chances

By Death Series

Touched by Death

Haunted by Death

Novellas/Short
Stories

It's a Dog's Life – romantic comedy
novella

Sian's Solution – a Family Blood Ties
short story (Sian and Taz's story)

Riana's Revenge – a fantasy short
story

Connect with Dale Mayer
Online:

Dale's
Website –
www.dalemayer.com

Sign up
for her newsletter -
www.dalemayer.com/blog

Twitter
–
http://twitter.com/#!/DaleMayer

Facebook
–
http://www.facebook.com/DaleMayer.author

Book
7 – Ally Thomas

VIRGIN MOON

(A Werewolf/Vampire Serial
Romance, Episode #1)

By Ally Thomas

Copyright 2013 Ally Thomas

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1 - Vincent’s New
Pet

Chapter 1 is told by Vincent, the hero. Each chapter goes
back and forth, sharing the hero and heroine’s point of
view.

“
Who is that woman chained
to my bed?”

Father didn’t miss a beat when I
stormed through the door of his study, unannounced. I thought he’d
be shocked by my absurd question or at least annoyed by the
intrusion of my 6’ 2” frame. He wasn’t, and that worried me. He was
up to something. Placing his journal on the massive mahogany desk,
he took his time to stuff the book and some papers in a drawer and
lock it. As he tucked the key in the front pocket of his red silk
vest, he buttoned his black velvet smoking jacket, retrieved his
pipe, tapped it a few times on the desk, and met my gaze, acting,
not the least bit surprised by the interruption.

“
That woman is your new
pet.” He shook a long, bony red index finger at me and made his way
around the desk to settle on one corner. For a few moments, he
stared at the wall of bronze werewolf skulls he had collected,
waiting to see if I’d inquire about a few new additions. I didn’t
take the bait. However, I did notice one was female and one male.
He made no distinction between genders. A kill was a kill. If asked
by a stranger how he gathered his collection of trophies, he’d
boast he had received them all as tokens of appreciation for being
such an honorable leader which was a lie. Father had killed each
and every one of them in his sick games, games I refused to
participate in. I may be a warrior protecting this place, but
Father was a sadistic hunter, one who needed to be
destroyed.

Finally, he returned his attention to
me. His human eyes rolled over and changed to a blood red as his
pupils dilated, disappeared, and formed menacing glowing orbs. He
thought his monster face would scare me.

I didn’t flinch. “I don’t need a pet,
Father.”

“
I handpicked her for you,
my boy. I thought you’d be grateful. When was the last time you got
any golden pussy like that? I ask you.” Snapping his fingers, a
fire spark ignited at the tip end of his index finger. He used it
to light his pipe. He inhaled deeply, taking a second or two to
size me up until he finally released a puff of smoke in my
direction.

“
I won’t play your
games.”

“
Oh yes, you will,” he
snapped. “You’re going to be on the field this year. That bitch is
the cream of the crop. She’ll perform well. I hear tell she’s a
Livonian werewolf, a virgin! Think of it. The powers she may hold.
And guess whose daughter she is?”

I remained silent.

“
You give up?” He asked.
His eyes returned to their more humanistic qualities as he situated
his vest.

Immediately not wanting to hear
anymore, I crossed my arms and leaned slightly against the door
frame, refusing to answer or enter the room entirely. I also cocked
my right foot in front of the left, letting the steel toe of my
black leather boot smack firmly on the freshly polished wood
floors. Surely, that would leave a nice scratch for one of his
staff members to buff out later.

He didn’t seem to mind. His excitement
took precedence over the condition of his precious treasures in his
finely decorated office, or the floors for that matter. Father and
his schemes. He and his brothers – my uncles whom I refused to
claim any relation to other than we were all a part of the same
underworld known as the Dark Place - acted like six-year-olds when
it came to the Season of the Games or they figured out some cunning
ploy to irritate the Golden Kingdom, the latter plan, which usually
ended up being remarkably stupid, or one some person, mainly me,
had to clean up. My patience thinning, I sighed and observed
him.

My father was one of the seven lords
of the Dark Place, and he was a demon like all his brothers. He was
called Alichino, a Latin word meaning ‘king of demons’ that he
preferred to be called because 1) he thought it meant he actually
was King of the Dark Place which he wasn’t and 2) his brothers had
put him in charge of recording all their adventures whether they
were true or not. It was a task he prided himself on even though he
had yet to print the first story. Scribbling down notes in between
smoke breaks seemed to be his approach.

I was
looking forward to the day when the real King of the Dark Place,
Sarif would ask my father where the book was.
That
would be fun.

Until then, playing the part instead
of doing the work was my father’s past time. He delighted in
dressing up like a scholarly gentleman on his way to a speaking
engagement in a dark three-piece suit with matching vest, top hat,
tails and pointy leather shoes, despite his thick purplish red
skin, two inch frontal horns he hid with his hat, and an assortment
of facial piercings given to him every one hundred years marking
his birthday. With all his pomp and circumstance, my friend, Michel
and I had given him another name we used quite often when
discussing his latest idiotic idea. It fit my father better and was
much easier to say. Asshole.