Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1 (40 page)

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.

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t like me.”

“I prefer to be here earlier than this, maybe eleven o’clock-ish. So, if this is your normal time… Do we have a deal?” When in doubt, evade, evade, evade. I extended my hand, a sealant of our verbal contract.

Finally—and unfortunately—he grinned. Every muscle in my abdomen worked together to restrain my gasp. He grasped my hand, the sheer size of his enclosing mine completely. The physical contact sent a shock through my arm, and for the tiniest of seconds I thought he might have felt it too. His face flickered into that same questioning expression he held on the dock but disappeared just as quickly. I tried to snatch my hand back in a way that didn’t seem offensive. He released it without a fight, oblivious to my reaction to him. How he could miss the goose bumps puckering my flesh, I wasn’t sure.

“We have a deal,” he agreed, smiling. “I was just finishing up, if you’d like to go ahead and start. I won’t be here much longer.”

“I will. Thanks.”

I walked to one of the virtual joggers and pulled up the settings—a variety of sceneries including beaches, mountains, deserts, cities, highways, forests and a stadium track. Not wanting anything to do with beaches and the memory they could conjure up so close to bedtime, I opted for the one labeled
Mountain Run
.

The hologram encompassed me, transporting me to a peaceful mountain trail, complete with sunlight beaming in through the tree canopy and a light breeze dancing through the ferns along the path. As I progressed up the mountain, the jogger inclined accordingly, and in no time at all, my heart rate raced with my exertions. For good measure, I increased the speed to a full run, in honor of the pile of candy wrappers still polluting my desk.

The hologram wasn’t a solid barrier. Through it I could see Captain Marek collecting his items—with any luck his shirt was among them—and preparing to leave. He still grinned, and I wondered that I ever doubted his ability to do so, or for that matter, to do so for such an extended period of time. Whatever I did to amuse him was beyond me.

He strolled to the jogger and watched me run for a moment, just long enough to make me uncomfortable. It seemed like he would say something, but he just gave a small wave to indicate he was departing. I returned one in kind, but otherwise had to concentrate on my breakneck pace. It just wouldn’t do to trip in front of the good captain.

Some will rise, others will fall…

Heroes Lost and Found

© 2012 Sheryl Nantus

Blaze of Glory, Book 3

Jo Tanis is still recovering from her near-death experience in Las Vegas when she receives a mysterious postcard from Harris Limox, who claims to have a promising lead on the whereabouts of the Controller. Over her boyfriend/guardian Hunter’s objections, she sets off to a sleepy Oregon town to ferret out the truth.

The Controller is more than just a disgruntled super. He’s a rogue Guardian who was presumed dead and is now armed with a slew of high-tech hardware that not only makes him physically superior to the supers—and therefore almost impossible to destroy—he’s got the ability to detonate the implants in the back of all supers’ necks.

In Oregon, Jo meets a surviving Alpha super, Kit Masters, whose wild plan to capture the Controller could put an entire town of innocents at risk. But instead of successfully talking her former idol out of his disastrous bid to regain former glory, Jo finds herself betrayed and trapped in her worst nightmare.

Fight her former teammates, or die.

Warning: Super brawling, super loving and a super-hot ending!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Heroes Lost and Found:

Peter tapped Rachael on the shoulder. “Want to hit the club again? One last spin on the dance floor?”

She stared at him, her face rotating between confusion, want and fear.

“We’re all here.” Steve cracked his knuckles. “No one’s gonna hurt you with us around. Go have a good time with Peter. Just…” He waved a thick finger in the air. “No men back to the room. Either of ya. I ain’t gonna clean up your sloppy seconds.”

Peter laughed and pulled Rachael to her feet as she blushed. The two of them walked off to their individual suites, leaving Steve, Hunter and myself in the main room.

The muscleman turned to me, suddenly serious. “Do you want me to go with you? I know Harris. We weren’t too tight, but we were buddies. Alone doesn’t mean you have to go alone.”

“Let me think it over,” I replied. “I’m not going to say I wouldn’t appreciate the company, but I don’t want to split the team up too much.”

“Versus you going off on your own. Again,” Hunter grumbled.

I ignored him and kept my attention on Steve and Jessie, who was still linked in from Toronto. “I need you with the rest of the team. If something goes down, they’ll need your muscle.” I addressed the screen, “I’m going off for the night, Jessie. Give David hugs and kisses, but don’t expect me for lunch tomorrow.”

“He’s gonna be pissed.”

“He’ll get over it. That or he’ll short-sheet my bed.” I faced Hunter. “Dinner first, fight later?”

He got to his feet, shaking his head. “Women.”

“Tell me about it.” Steve stretched out his arms and tucked them behind his head with a world-weary sigh. “That’s why I’m a player. Love ’em and leave ’em, just make sure you keep the keys to the car and extra clothing in the trunk.”

I rolled my eyes as I headed out of the suite, hearing the two men laughing behind me.

The walk down to the suite I shared with Hunter seemed longer than usual. I reached the door and unlocked it with the cardkey, leaving it ajar for Hunter.

What I needed was a master plan on how to deal with Dykovski and his stolen tech.

What I was about to get was a rip-roaring fight with my new boyfriend.

Whoever said the life of a superhero was all bells and whistles was full of crap.

There was a small first-aid kit in the bathroom left over from my recent adventures in spelunking. I grabbed some antiseptic cream, gauze pads and bandages and headed for the living room to wait.

I settled down on our own black leather couch, stretching out on the cushions. The television remote control lay on the coffee table, just within reach. I didn’t bother trying to get it.