The Sheik and the Siren (Elemental Series) (18 page)

If you enjoyed this series, you may enjoy one of my other medieval series too:

Legacy of the Blade Series:

Lord of the Blade

Lady Renegade

Lord of Illusion

Lady of the Mist

Greek Myth Fantasy Series:

Kyros’ Secret

The Oracle of Delphi

Thief of Olympus

The Pandora Curse

Or stop by my website at
elizabethrosenovels.com
, to read excerpts of my novels, and to see what’s new, as I have at least one new novel every month.

I will now leave you with a few excerpts of my other novels for your enjoyment. Thank you for your support, and enjoy!

Elizabeth Rose

Excerpt from
Doubting Thomas:

(Tarnished Saints Series)

(The Taylor Twelve: Sons of a preacher but far from saints. These men are nothing but trouble.)(Thomas is a single father of six young boys, accused of murdering his wife. Angel is a social worker, on vacation at Thunder Lake and planning on paying Thomas an unofficial visit.)

Angel stepped out into the bright sunshine and also the blessed silence. After hearing Agnes and Clarence ramble on, she wasn’t sure how relaxing this vacation was going to be after all. She needed to talk to them more about Thomas Taylor, but figured it could wait till later. Then she’d find out who else knows the man, and ask them questions as well before she tried to talk to his kids.

She started down the Ainsley’s half-mile country road driveway, careful not to go anywhere near the road she’d taken by accident last night. She didn’t need anyone shooting guns at her, and she certainly didn’t need Thomas Taylor mad at her before she’d had a chance to approach him.

A channel of water ran from the lake alongside the Ainsley’s property, under a gravel road, and emptied into a small pond on the other side. She figured it must be the blue-gill pond that Clarence had mentioned. The grass around the pond was mowed and the trees trimmed, and the whole thing looked more like a park setting than that of the wilderness. Still, she beheld the beauty of the natural setting, admiring the water reflecting the blue skies above. A Canadian Honker scolded her when she got too close, and it swam out to the center of the pond, gliding toward a small island covered with tall trees. The goose obviously had a nest on that island, and her scolds were only to protect her babies.

She felt the same way. She wanted to protect Gabby, and after that gunshot, she was starting to doubt she did the right thing by bringing her with. The sooner she got this call over with, the better. By the sound of it, the sooner they hauled Thomas Taylor away and found a good home for his children, the sooner this lake would be safe again. She toyed with the idea of calling in for another social worker to back her up, but decided against it. After ten years in this business, she knew people tended to exaggerate. She’d better investigate further first.

After awhile, her curiosity got the best of her. She veered off the path, bravely taking the one less traveled. She found herself jogging down the road she’d taken last night. Thomas Taylor’s road. She didn’t know where the Taylor’s house was, but she knew if she stayed on his land he would find her sooner or later.

She made it nearly to the mailboxes at the end of the half-mile road before she had to stop and catch her breath. She was regretting eating that breakfast now. Hands on her knees and head down, her breathing slowed and a chill swept up her spine. She had the feeling someone was watching her. She jumped up and turned around, only to see a flash of dark clothing disappear into the trees.

“Hello?” she called. “Is anyone there?”

“That’s just Zeke, hiding again,” came a voice from behind her. She jumped again, and turned around to see a boy she guessed to be about nine or ten years of age standing on the side of the road. She recognized him as the boy who’d thrown a rock at her last night. This time he wasn’t wearing the coonskin cap.

“You!” she spat. “I recognize you. You almost hurt me with that rock last night.”

“I didn’t do any such thing.”

“You don’t have to lie about it. Lying is not good.”

The boy’s eyes opened wide in fear. “I didn’t throw no rocks at you.”

“Any,” she corrected him. “And you know you did it.”

“What’s the matter, Josh?”

Angel looked up to see a man walking out of the woods toward her. The same man she’d seen last night in her headlights, but thankfully this time without the gun.

“Is this woman bothering you?”

The boy stayed quiet.

“Are you Thomas Taylor?” she asked, knowing darn well he was, but trying to find a way to introduce
herself.

“Who’s askin’?”

“My name is Angeline DeMitri.” She held out her hand, but when he just stared at it without returning the greeting, she pulled it back slowly. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“How’d you know my name?” he asked in a suspicious tone. “Are you one of those tourists here to cause trouble for the summer?”

She was appalled at the way he assumed every visitor wanted to cause trouble, when he in fact looked like more trouble than anyone she’d ever met.

“I’m vacationing at Thunder Lake for awhile, Mr. Taylor. I’m staying at the Ainsley’s.”

He just grunted.

“And it seems to me your son - I’m guessing he’s your son, is the one causing trouble. Last night he threw a rock at me. I could have been hurt.”

“Is this true, son?” The man’s voice was low and concerned. His dark eyes narrowed as he watched the boy squirm. As he turned toward the boy, she couldn’t help but notice the way Thomas’s snug jeans hugged his lean waist, or the way his t-shirt clung to his sturdy chest.

“I didn’t do it, Pa. I swear!”

He turned back to Angel. “My son didn’t do it.”

“I saw him do it!”

“If he says he didn’t do it, then he didn’t. My children don’t lie.”

“Every child lies once in awhile,” she told him, trying to give the boy a way out and admit he was wrong.

“Not mine,” he said. “And if you’re so fast to complain about being hurt, I must mention that I saw you stop your van not four feet from my youngest son last night.”

Angel suddenly felt horrible. Here she was complaining about a rock when her own actions were worse, even if they weren’t intentional.

“Well, he was standing in the middle of a dark road.”

“I warn you, Ms. DeMitri, stay off my land. C’mon, Josh.” He motioned to the boy and they took off into the woods.

Excerpt from
Familiar
:
(A warlock in denial and a cursed/shapeshifting woman.)

Slade looked over to Susie’s house next door. He wondered what had happened to her after that awful night five years ago. He’d thought of her every day since he’d left. He’d thought of the things he wanted to say to her, but didn’t. 

He missed Susie, but knew wherever she was, she was better off as long as she wasn’t with him. He wondered if she still smelled like lilacs or if her hair was still the color of buttercups in long loose curls that wisped past her face in the breeze of a warm summer day.

He froze as his eyes settled on her front porch swing swaying in the breeze. It was almost like he was back in high school again, his memory stirring up feelings of Susie he tried so hard to forget. Her house was small and quaint. Fresh turquoise paint trimmed the shiny windows and a cute wooden fence encompassed the trimmed lawn. Flower boxes of petunias and potted geraniums lined the front of the porch.

It still looked the same as it had ten years ago. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. He then forced his eyes away and looked instead at the house he’d grown up in.
An old Victorian mansion with peeling paint and shutters flapping in the breeze. The lawn looked as if it hadn’t been mowed in a month of Sundays and the path leading to the front door was rocky and full of weeds. Nothing had changed in the time he’d been gone. There were probably still bats in the attic as well. But at least he knew no one would ever find a mouse in there. Not with all the cats that occupied the premises.

He pushed open the old iron gate, the squeak scaring a few dozen of his uncle’s pet cats which scattered through the high grass and disappeared under the porch or somewhere in Susie’s yard.

He felt his nose tingle and his eyes water. Those damned cats were still affecting him. He’d almost forgotten how miserable he’d been living with his uncle’s three dozen felines. He sneezed loudly, and a few straggling cats hurried on past him out onto the front walkway.

“Damn these cats,” he griped, pulling a fresh handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his nose.

“God bless you.”

He stopped in mid-motion, afraid to turn around. Afraid he knew only too well which angel belonged to the blessing being sent his way. He put the hanky back without turning to look. It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be her.

He turned then, half hoping it was only his imagination and not her. But as he expected, Susie stood there with a slight smile on her face and a bag of groceries balanced on one curvy hip. Matter of fact, she had a few curves he didn’t remember the last time he saw her.

“Susie,” he whispered and watched as her peacock-blue eyes lit up when she saw him.
Just as he’d remembered. He willed his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. There was so much he wanted to say to her. So much he wanted to tell her. I’m sorry, for starters, but he knew the words would never be sufficient for what he was supposedly responsible for doing.

“So,” she said, the pregnant pause after the word a little unnerving. “You decided to move back to Caton?”

“Move back?” he was stunned that she’d think he’d come back here to live after what happened. He was even more stunned that she didn’t slap him or punch him or give him the kind of treatment he truly deserved. Instead, little miss Susie Homemaker stood with a bag of groceries balanced on her hip looking as if she were about to invite him in to dinner when she should be running from him instead. Fearless, yet trusting. Just like his Susie.

“No. No, I’m only here on business,” he said, blinking his irritated eyes which the cats always triggered off in him.

“Business?” she asked with a raised brow. “Something to do with the new development plans of the mall they foolishly want to build here?”

“It’s about time Caton had a mall, Susie. This town is dying. If it doesn’t pull in revenue soon it’ll be nothing but a ghost town.”

She looked up at the setting sun just then and her face paled slightly, her eyes losing their sparkle. Her expression changed from one of comfort and nurturing to one of disturbance, anticipation and a little of something he couldn’t explain. Her eyes closed and she swayed. She loosened her grip on her grocery bag and Slade jumped forward, taking it from her hands before it spilled, yet being extra careful not to touch her.

“What’s the matter, Susie? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

The chill of the evening was more noticeable now as the sun started to set on the horizon. He knew she must have felt it too, because he could see the gooseflesh on her bare arms.

“Nothing. I - I’m fine. I’ve just got to go now.”

“No, not yet,” he said. “I have so much to say to you. So much to ask. Do you still live in the house  - why’d you come back? I thought you went to live in Europe with your parents. Isn’t that what Aunt Maeve told me?”

She reached for the bag, but Slade caught her by the wrist. She stopped and stared down at his hand, and he realized he
may be gripping her too tightly. He quickly released her wrist, cursing himself for doing that. Hadn’t he learned his lesson last time? Still, he told himself he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Oddly enough, he couldn’t help but notice that when he’d grabbed her, her skin felt cold and clammy. Not like the warm, soft skin he’d remembered. Also, her body felt tense and rigid. Then again, it was probably just him triggering off those reactions in her and he couldn’t say he blamed her at all.

“Susie, tell me what’s bothering you. Has Uncle Galen been pestering you again? I know he’s an odd sort of man who can get under one’s skin. He’s not knocking at your door in the middle of the night asking you to help him find a lost cat, is he?”

She looked scared. Her eyes met his for a brief second and then she glanced to the ground at his feet. “No. Galen doesn’t come to my house. Not anymore.”

She pulled the grocery bag from his hands, almost ripping the paper in the process.

“Let me walk you to your door,” he said. “It’s been a long time. Maybe we can have some dinner and -”

“No! No, not tonight.”

It was so unlike her. And such a rapid mood swing from the girl who’d just blessed him when he’d sneezed.