Book Excerpts

Ice-Cold Lover

The smell of money, and lots of it, permeated the air of the Sydney casino as Celeste Diamond stepped out of the elevator and onto its lavish third floor. Booked exclusively for invitation-only guests, it was here the rich and powerful, the famous and not-so-famous, came to flaunt their splendor.

She scarcely noticed. Instead, every one of her senses isolated the man who’d gone to great lengths this last month—with little success—to get to know her.

Pascal Daniels was a name synonymous to power and wealth, with murky undercurrents linking him to the seedy underworld of organized crime. Add notorious playboy to the mix and he was one black sheep she’d do well to avoid—if only she wasn’t a heartbeat away from tearing the clothes right off his magnificent body!

Heat crept up her throat as high-voltage lust zapped straight between her thighs. Her nipples pebbled beneath her white sheath dress and the corset bra under the many layers of gauzy material encircling her torso.

Pascal would never see the physical evidence puckering just for him. The corset disguised more than just her gargoyle wings.

She watched him push to his feet in one smooth, fluid movement. He towered above the blackjack table and a pair of scantily clad women who’d been hanging over him. He ignored them both. Instead, his hot stare feasted on her, swept her up and down like a lover’s caress, his attention hers alone.

She swallowed convulsively. When he abandoned his chips with a careless wave, the breath wedged somewhere low in her throat.

Oh, dear god. Am I ready for this?

Her spine snapped tight, subduing the hideous, bat-like appendages quivering beneath their bonds. And for just one moment self-doubt iced the carnal heat flowing like lava in her veins. Would this man be so fascinated if he saw her in all her naked glory, with her unbound wings stretched high and wide?

She’d never give him the chance to find out.

Oh, they’d be intimate this night, except it would be strictly on her terms, when she was ready and not before. She would never be one of his easy conquests.

With slow provocation, she turned her back on him, a gesture that made her shiver even as she burned. Had anyone ever had the nerve to snub this man?

Snatching a flute of champagne from a passing tray, she sipped the bubbles of decadence while dancing her way around the milling crowd of glitterati. She needn’t look behind to see if he followed—her every molecule screamed that he did. A gurgle of laughter spilled free, a dizzy excitement from the thrill of the hunt. She hadn’t felt so alive, so utterly aroused…ever!

Kallie Revealed

He was here again. Kallie knew it the moment she strutted onto the stage in a white cowgirl hat and matching, sleek tasseled dress. Even as the Sydney club echoed with wolf whistles and lewd cheers, from somewhere in the crowd she felt his stare.

Seth Masterton. A man going to the stratosphere in the corporate world. A rising star. He could have any woman he wanted, and yet here he was, watching her.

Her skin tingled, her pulse thudding like a freight train quickly gaining speed. She smiled, hoping he liked what he saw! And hell, she wasn’t one to disappoint.

Not anymore.

Heavy bass flooded the stage. A spotlight dazzled directly above her, the spectator’s faces now dim in the crowd as she threw her head back and then strode forward, hips swiveling to the beat before she grabbed hold of the center pole and executed a turn.

Ha. The audience would expect more, but she liked to tease, liked the pretense of innocence before she showed her true self. Literally.

Shoulder blades bracketed against the pole, Kallie leaned back, tan, thigh-high, heeled boots spread wide and arms above her head as she slithered down and then ever so slowly up. It was just her and the music now. The men, and probably a few women, were all silent, salivating as she did her thing.

A delicious thrill zapped straight between her thighs. Yes, she danced for everyone who’d paid to watch. But in reality, Kallie danced for only one person—Seth.

She straightened and the tips of her fingers traced the outer rim of her cowgirl hat. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she launched it through the air, her arrow-straight blonde hair immediately cascading to her waist.

A roar of approval met her performance. The room pulsed with energy and crackled with lust and Kallie couldn’t deny the excitement leaping within.

She stilled, closing her eyes to soak it all in. She could have any man or woman here tonight—married, gay, rich or poor. The knowledge licked through her veins and made her pussy wet.

She’d fuck Seth tonight.

With a smile of anticipation, she opened her eyes and sashayed forward. A hidden, industrial fan ensured the sudden gust of air whipped back her long hair and pressed the white dress against her straining breasts.

A chair waited for her at the front of the stage and she stilled behind it while she looked out into the darkness to her left, sensing Seth’s presence. She shivered with longing.

This is for you.

One hand resting on the high-backed seat, she gyrated to the music while her other hand lifted. Her fingers, one by one, released the studs at the front of her dress. It peeled open to reveal glimpses of gold-tanned flesh and barely-there crimson lace underwear.

The music peaked and then went silent. She heard someone moan even before the light slipped away and ran over the crowd.

She stepped out of her dress and kicked it to one side. And in the cover of shadows she allowed her smile to fade while long repressed grief stirred and swelled.

It was bizarre how life had panned out. Sorrow had catapulted her onto this journey of self-discovery, this exploring of her fantasies, where for the brief moments when she was on stage, she felt whole and beautiful again.

Oh god. Don’t think about it. Not now!

 

Her Dark Lord

“It isn’t over between us. Not by a long shot.”

Kia Montana hid a smile as she rolled up her sheer stockings and clipped them to her lace suspenders. Pushing her feet into the heeled shoes she’d tossed aside so carelessly the night before, she glanced over at the gorgeous man sprawled out on her hotel bed.Passion emanated from him, scorching and hot. She gave him a cool smile, resisting an impulse to sashay over, lean forward and trace her tongue along the salty warmth of his collarbone, and down over the hardened buds of his dusky nipples.

Even harder to withstand was the urge to sink her fangs into his delectable throat, taste the pulsating warmth of his essence while he brought her to climax just once more.

She breathed slow and deep, and his glittering, gun-metal eyes held her gaze when she said, “Sorry, I don’t do relationships.” “Don’t apologize,” he drawled. And as she slipped into her crimson lace bra, a savage light sparked deep in his stare. “I know just how to change your mind.”

Her breasts, still tingling from his mouth, his clever hands, hardened under his scrutiny as she clipped the bra into place. Her pulses jumped, but it was his declaration that kick-started her heart into high speed. She inhaled slowly, gaining control. “Oh?” she queried with an Oscar winning note of boredom.

“You want access to all of Sydney’s underworld places. As your escort, I can offer you that.” He smiled at her silence. “A ticket to where only an exclusive few have been.”

Her heartbeat surged into a frantic gallop as excitement writhed deep inside. When she’d seen him at last night’s shindig, moving through the crème de le crème of the Sydney crowd like he owned each and every party-goer there, her instincts had clamored.

He held the key.

She kept her face an impassive mask. This could be her one opportunity to get close to Sean Maximillus, the reclusive, centuries old Vampire Lord.

She managed an idle smirk. “Running short of eager, beautiful young women to parade around?”

A crack of laughter shot from his sexy mouth. “Never. Quite the contrary.” His eyes drank her in. “Apart from your obvious charms,” he shrugged, “you intrigue me.” He sat up, dark hair tousled. Abs rippled beneath his golden skin while he ran an outstretched hand over a strong jaw already shadowed with growth.

Such masterful hands, she mused. They’d stroked and caressed in all the right places, until she’d quivered with lust, then undulated with pleasure. She forced back the memory and a sudden, feverish ache. Arching a brow, she queried throatily, “Really? I guess you’re bored with simpering women?”

A muscle jerked along his unyielding jaw. Then he grinned and pushed to his feet before taking a few strides her way. The pad of his thumb brushed beneath her chin. “You’re extraordinary, do you know that?”

Something passed between them, some kind of magnetic pull that held her breathless and still. “You have no idea,” she whispered.His eyes widened, and his hand dropped. Spell broken. “You’re so sure of that?”

She looked away, disorientated. Never before had it felt as if all her highly-developed senses had short-circuited, leaving her vulnerable. Exposed. She swayed, perversely thankful for his hands that immediately lifted to frame her hips, steadying her.

“Kia?”

Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes for a second before stepping out of his hold and looking back up. “I never told you my name.”

Hardness lurked beneath the brilliant shimmer of his stare. Without warning, his head dropped to hers. His mouth covered her lips in an open-mouthed kiss that jump-started every nerve ending in her body and made her forget for just one moment, her single-minded purpose.

As quickly, he pulled back, expression fierce. “Amore. You didn’t need to tell me who you are.”

“Go away,” she mumbled, even as her eyes devoured all six feet five inches of him as he stood taut and moody at the end of the four-poster bed.

She shivered, less with unease and more with longing, though one could be forgiven for feeling the former. His black, military-style cropped hair and the scar running straight from the bridge of his nose to the hairline of his wide brow added to his sinister aura.

“Why, am I interrupting something?” His frosty, gray-blue eyes swept the scene and it was pure reflex when she touched her swollen mouth before curling a hand around her mussed hair. His eyes darkened. “Because from where I’m standing, your latest lover is out for the count.”

She dropped her hand and sat up. The bedcovers tumbled to her waist, revealing the globes of her breasts, her nipples, which hardened under his gaze. “It was a big night.” And not in the way you think. She managed a shrug. “He’s recovering.” She swung her legs to one side of the bed. Turning her back on him, she asked dryly, “Are you jealous?”

Feigning indifference to the simmering quiet, she rose and padded across the soft beige carpet. She stooped, retrieving her discarded clothes strewn in a trail from the bedroom door.

Cray would imagine the worst. Who wouldn’t when it looked as if her clothes had been all but torn from her in a fit of passion? It might have started off that way, but ardor—at least on her behalf—had quickly dulled.

She wanted her gargoyle, or no man at all.

She felt the burn of his eyes scorch the air, spiking her nipples harder still. Her pussy contracted as the whole of her body reacted to his predatory hunger. Yet even in her high state of arousal her mind whirred with a far different kind of longing as she awaited his reply.

Dear God, did nothing get under his skin?

She tugged on her black lace thong, chilled by his shot of mirthless laughter and then as quickly burning hot when he closed the distance with just a stride. She dragged in a breath when his arms encircled her from behind. His large hands cradled her aching, heavy breasts while his fingers skillfully stroked her sensitive nipples.

“Should I be jealous?” he asked.

Despite her best intentions, she reveled in his touch. She caught her breath as waves of sensation melted her against him like a long-lost piece of a puzzle. “You tell me.”

Wry amusement overlaid a hardness she’d yet to crack as he said, “We could dance around a straight answer for hours but I don’t have the luxury of time to play mind games.”

His erection nudged the small of her back, indicating what game he’d really like time for if he’d just once forget his guardian role and relent to their attraction.

She wriggled, brushing against the impressive length of his cock and losing herself in his unyielding strength as she tucked her head beneath one of his arms.

“Don’t you ever just let yourself go, enjoy the moment?” She hated the breathlessness in her voice, hated how he could be physically aroused but emotionally unaffected.

He stiffened. “Nice sentiments. But I’m never intimate with the one I protect. You know that.”

She jerked free. Thrusting her head and arms through the floaty folds of her crimson designer dress, she pivoted to face him. “I never asked for your protection.”

“No one ever does.”

If she’d been anyone else, she’d have shrunk back from the latent coldness in his stare. But she wasn’t anyone else and she’d known nothing but sacrifice from this man…this gargoyle.

Cray dropped into a crouch and grabbed her high-heeled shoes from beneath the bed. He motioned her over and this time she knew better than to argue. She’d pushed him far enough.

His hands cradled first one foot then the other as he slipped on her shoes. Diamonds winked along the straps crisscrossing her toes. Her eyes fluttered closed as flames licked from the soles of her feet and leapt straight to her already burning core.

“Such a thankless job.” She cleared her throat and opened her eyes to his downturned head, almost giving in to the need to run her hands over his spiky hair. “Don’t you ever wish for something in return?”

With one fluid motion, he stood, making Loretta glad she wore stilettos. At five-foot-three, she barely reached his chest but heels brought her eyes to his chin level. She tore her gaze away from his sexy lips and studied his unnerving face.

Stone cold really was an apt description for his unyielding expression. She should know. She’d tried for nearly three years now to bring his impervious emotions to heel.

A large hand snared the crook of her elbow before he escorted her toward the balcony’s locked, sliding door. With a faint chink, it yielded to his force and slid open in a whisper of sound.

“I wish for many things,” he growled, guiding her out onto the small platform nestled high atop the eighteen-story apartment block. “But wishes and dreams are wasted on a gargoyle.”

I don’t believe so.

She twisted to face him. Tilting back her head, she watched the intensity on his face as he blocked his human awareness and focused his highly developed, gargoyle senses. His nostrils flared as he scented the air, his large frame taut and still while he took in the sounds of the night.

With eyes that glowed feral and bright as ice chips, he swept the area, double-checking for insomniacs and early risers—for anyone who might potentially witness his change and their unconventional exit.

Apparently satisfied at their privacy, he shrugged off his black, ankle-length coat and draped it over her shoulders. She tugged the folds around her in a gesture of long practice, surreptitiously inhaling his brandy-and-spice scent.

And not for the first time was she aware of just how safe she felt, enfolded in his jacket, cocooned from all that was bad in the world.

Lights dotted the cityscape of Sydney, a faint awareness of dawn in the air when Cray shifted from human into a winged creature of the night and folded her into his arms.

The change was effortless. If Loretta hadn’t known about his ability—his curse—she’d hardly have noticed the slight hunching of his shoulders, or the broadening of his body as bat-like, eight-foot-span wings sprouted from either side of his spine as he gripped her tightly. Only the wrench and give of his clothes, which fell to the floor in tattered wisps, betrayed his true shift of identity.

Shame it was dark, she’d have appreciated the sight of his masculine charms in the flesh. Even etched in stone, she’d not been disappointed.

Unlike the ugly and inanimate carved gargoyles that littered many gardens and lawns, Cray retained much of his human looks.

Oh, she knew he didn’t see anything remotely handsome in his gargoyle form but he was so wrong. From the large and rather fine-boned sweep of his wings, to his more subtle physical modifications, he was fascinating.

The remnants of his shirt and pants fluttered over the balcony and she twined her fingers behind his neck when he climbed the railing and stretched his webbed wings with a barely audible swish.

Her heart thumped, her senses in overdrive as she went giddy with anticipation for the buzz to come.

Cray leapt high. Her belly dropped as adrenaline skyrocketed, the ground a blur of lights beneath them as the winter air whipped her long gold-brown hair into her eyes and bit into her skin.

He wrapped her close to his chest, pressing the coat fully closed to deflect the worst of the cold, and Loretta wondered what it would feel like to have him really care about her.

She fought back a sudden, weary sigh. He was honor-bound to ensure her well-being. She was his top priority, but only as her guardian, nothing else. Besides, if he did care, he would’ve retrieved her long before she fell into yet another stranger’s bed.

Her grip tightened. She was a fool to wish he saw her as anything more than a spoiled heiress.