Category Archives: Snippets

snippets and deleted scenes


The Blushing Death Series #9 – Infinite Azure – is coming in April of 2022. I’m excited to share the next installment of Dahlia Sabin’s journey with you. For now, however, you’ll have to be satisfied with this little nugget. Be kind. This has not been professionally edited.

                “It’s fucking cold out here,” I hissed through chattering teeth. No matter how much I willed my jaw to remain motionless, it didn’t listen and the rattling inside my head was driving me insane.

The fire flickered in the pitch-darkness of the Outer Realm, casting an eerie glow across the snow. Beyond the miniscule light of the fire, as large as we dared make it here so we didn’t attract other, more dangerous beings, inky blackness stretched on forever. The oppressive nature of the dark and the fact that I knew it could literally stretch out for eternity, was some cruel realization that I was a very small being in a very large place with creatures that could eat me for the hell of it.

Shaking off my descent into bat-shit-crazy, I considered the first time I’d been here and each subsequent journey. Each time I crossed the divide into the Outer Realm, it got just a bit colder. This time there was a light dusting of snow on the ground with flurries brushing against my exposed skin. I’d dressed for cold, knowing full well how the wind had burned through my cloths the last time. But this was worse. The wind was bitter and piecing as it howled through the trees and my clothes. Beyond the minimal warmth and light of the fire lurked beasties and creatures of every shape and size, and the focus of their eyes on me was a weight I felt in my gut, a tight clench of fear that made me queasy but alert. I fought the urge to run, knowing that I couldn’t outrun any of them. I could fight but I would lose. The Outer Ream was a place where strength was valued, and weakness was devoured. Maybe they were just curious. Maybe they were hungry. I had no choice but to wait and hope they remained in the dark beyond the light of the fire.

                “Make the fire warmer,” Adrik snorted, landing on my shoulder, and rubbing his hands together. The four-inch-high pixie stood close to my neck, soaking up my body heat. He knew I could use my magic to increase the heat of the fire, and I’d considered it, but I didn’t want to give too much away too soon. Bargaining with the fae was a delicate balance of knowledge and doing it from a position of strength was better.

                “I don’t want to burn my eyebrows off,” I said, smirking at the pixie. He rolled his small silver eyes at my obvious lie. “When are they going to get here?” I asked, wanting desperately to be home and warm in my bed. The longer I stayed in the Outer Realm, the bigger the likelihood that someone would notice either on this side or my side of the veil that I was not where I was supposed to be.

Adrik and I had been making small trips to the Outer Realm for weeks without letting anyone know. I was pushing my luck before either Patrick or Dean noticed and gave me hell, at the very least a lecture. Let alone anyone else. After the mountain where I’d killed Rokap but lost Milagra and Konstantin, Dean and Patrick had been different. More protective. More confining. Dean especially. If they knew what I was doing, Dean would lose his shit. Right now, this was better. He didn’t worry and I didn’t have to face his anger. I was being a coward but right now, I was willing to be a coward to keep them safe just a bit longer.

                “The representative should be here momentarily,” Adrik responded.

                “You’d think I’d figure out how to dress properly to be here, but it always seems colder than the last time,” I said, unable to keep my teeth from chattering. The fleece lining wasn’t enough.

                “It is not your imagination,” Adrik answered, his voice rough through the already guttural accent. His English was getting better, but I could still hear the centuries of Russian in the shape of his words.

                “What would make the Outer Realm get colder? Does it have seasons?” I asked, my voice sharp with the unexpected dread filling my middle. I shouldn’t care if the temperature of the Outer Realm was changing, but I did.

                “Magic is leaving or being drawn out,” Adrik responded, “I cannot be certain but the magic in the air seems thinner.”

                “I don’t understand,” I said, rubbing my hands before the fire attempting to get the feeling back in my fingertips.

                “The Serpent’s power is growing weaker here. Either by design or another reason, I canna say,” a voice answered, from beyond the fire and still hidden in shadow responded, his words resonated with a depth that rumbled the logs in the fire.

Residual Magic Snippet

I’m working! I promise but it’s taking me much longer than expected. To keep everyone motivated, here’s a snippet. It’s unedited so keep your comments to yourself. Unless you want to tell me how awesome it is. Then, by all means, comment away!

Taking a regret-filled step back, I glared at Wynne around Ev’s solid form. “Fine!” I snapped at her, genuinely angry that she’d disturbed my very magical moment with Ev. “I’ll put the amulet back in the drawer.”

                “You will do no such thing!” she pronounced vehemently. “This is the most excitement I’ve had in quite some time.”

                “After your body snatching request, I’m not taking the chance that you might sneak in and try to take over,” I said, honestly.

                “I wouldn’t!” she sounded almost appalled but I knew her better than that.

                “You would,” Ev snarled. Apparently, Ev knew her better than that too.

                “Ah, wolf,” Wynne cooed, “we were getting along so well.”

                “Were we?” he asked.

                As the conversation ping ponged back and forth, more noise echoed up from downstairs. It sounded like an army down there. Ev probably heard everything that was going on but I couldn’t and a wash of guilt made me nervous. I’d asked these people to leave their home and come talk to me and now I was making them wait. If I didn’t hurry this argument along, Ev and Wynne would be at it forever and then we’d miss our chance.

                “They’re waiting downstairs and it sounds like an army. We don’t have time for this,” I said, anxiety making my words clipped. Ev nodded his agreement, took my hand in his and guided me toward the door.

                “I cannot help you if I don’t know,” Wynne added absently and as I glanced over at her in the mirror, she was peering down at her nails as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Which, of course, she did. She must want to hear all of it very badly to play such and obvious ploy. Wynne was much more manipulative than this, I’d seen it first-hand.

                I glanced at Ev and met his disapproving glare and tight shoulders. I didn’t have to say anything or plead, all I did was shrug. Afterall, she was right. She might hear something that we’d miss in the retelling. It was better-nope, scratch that-more prudent to have her there. Nothing was better with Wynne in the mix. With a sigh of resignation, he nodded once and picked up the amulet. “Behave,” he growled at Wynne before shoving it into his pocket.  He held out his hand to me and waited until I clasped my hand in his and a bit of my stomach fluttered at the newness of the touch and the surety in it. Together we strode down the stairs .

Snippet – Amber Ruin

Amber Ruin is coming in October and I thought I’d give you a little glimpse into what is coming. Enjoy!

Patrick stood in our shared closet, lost. His back straight and his fingers walking across hangers, I could hear him mumbling to himself but couldn’t quite make out what he was saying. I sat on the floor with my back against the wall next to the door to our walk-in closet. Watching. This was fascinating. From the moment I’d met him, Patrick had always been perfect. He’d looked like GQ come to life and this flustered side of him was . . . cute.

“Figured it out yet?” I asked, not able to keep the smile from my lips.

“No,” he grumbled, running his hand through his thick, onyx hair. “What should I pack for this type of event?” he asked, frustration finally bleeding through.

“Jeans,” Dean called from our bedroom. He also sounded frustrated. That’s all Dean owned was jeans. Oh sure, he had a suit or two for meetings, but that was it. The moment the meeting was over, he was back in jeans and a t-shirt.

“That isn’t very helpful,” Patrick snorted.

Getting to my feet, I took the several steps to close the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his waist. I breathed in his scent of death, blood, and mysteriously . . . old books. Something in my brain clicked home. He stroked his fingers along my arm and his body relaxed against me. “You’ll be fine,” I whispered, understanding the underlying problem that he didn’t want to voice. Being mystically married, I got a little extra insight to the men I loved that normal humans didn’t get. It was really helpful to be able to see inside their soul and know what they were feeling, what they weren’t saying. Shit, I was married. Mystically or not. Sometimes it just hit me, a bolt of lightning to the brain. I was married.

The Blushing Death

Ever wonder how Dahlia got her street name (aka the Blushing Death)?? Well, here’s your chance to find out. This short has not been professionally edited and contains graphic language and content. Read at your own risk. Enjoy!



What the hell was he doing here? He’d better things to do than watch over some imbecile who wasn’t intelligent enough to take his meal behind a dumpster or into an alley before he ate. Patrick closed his eyes and let the night breathe into him, fill him, and energize him. Waiting for Dmitri to exit the bar, he hadn’t fed yet and his fangs throbbed from want of a meal.

As Ethan’s right hand, he had too many responsibilities to be sitting on a roof top, monitoring Dmitri’s hunt. Ethan must be losing whatever sense he had left. Being 400 and some odd years old, Vampire Liege, and almost half a century without Margo – his mate of more than 300 years – had finally destroyed the last vestige of sanity his father had.

The breeze whipped around Patrick’s hair, pushing the scent of alcohol, oversexed college students, and grease from the nearby campus bars through his nostrils, barraging his senses with debauchery. Why Dmitri hunted the incredibly inebriated young coeds was understandable, however, why he couldn’t keep from drawing attention to himself and feeding in public was beyond his understanding.

Patrick sat on the ledge of the roof along High Street watching young men and women stumble from bar to bar, laughing, touching, fondling each other. Patrick watched them with envy.  He hadn’t touched someone with abandon in decades. He’d occupied himself with quick fucks and blood whores, as those were the only ones safe and allowed him to hide his true nature and power.

“What are you doing to yourself?” Patrick whispered into the silence. He shouldn’t envy humans. Ever. Leaning over the edge, he kept his eyes open for Dmitri. The young one would have to come out sooner or later.

The wind shifted and brought a familiar musky scent to his nose. “How’d you find me?” Patrick asked without turning, knowing full well who was standing behind him.

“Wasn’t hard. You stink,” the deep, bass voice rumbled with what Patrick thought was a chuckle.  Patrick smiled to himself without turning. Dean, werewolf, alpha, Pack King, and friend was nothing if not precise. He never said two words when one would do.

“So you’ve said,” Patrick said as he turned to face his friend of decades. The two men were complete opposites in every way. Patrick was tall, lean, and muscular with a runner’s body, his movements were lithe as a cat’s. Dean was older than Patrick by almost fifty years, but you couldn’t tell to look at them since vampires and werewolves didn’t age. Patrick had dark hair and dark eyes that stood in stark contrast to his pale skin.

Dean, on the other hand, was tall and bulky like he could lift a car over his head as he would a sack of potatoes. He had deep olive-green eyes, dark Mediterranean skin, and a completely shaved head. He was kind, loyal and had the ability to read people in a way that staggered Patrick. In Patrick’s mind, everyone had an ulterior motive. He’d lived too long and seen too many vampires he’d trusted turn on him with the merest hint of power.

“Pat?” Dean’s deep voice rumbled behind him. Dean sounded unsure and Patrick knew it was his fault. Patrick had been avoiding his friend for weeks, months really. It wasn’t safe.  Ethan didn’t approve of his friendship with Dean. His Liege also didn’t appreciate that Dean had a power Ethan couldn’t control and couldn’t curtail. The old vampire was threatened by Dean, and he should be. The werewolf was more powerful than any Patrick had ever come across. But Unlike Ethan, Dean seemed content with what he had. That’s why Patrick trusted him.

“Yes,” Patrick answered, keeping his gaze on the street below.

“You alright?” Dean asked, stepping up beside him. Patrick glanced over at his friend.

Dean watched the street below, avoiding eye contact.

“Perfectly,” Patrick said. “I’m babysitting this evening.  And you?”

“Looking for you,” Dean mumbled.

“Is something wrong?” Patrick asked with dread filling him. Ethan was hiding more and more from Patrick and he suspected it was only a matter of time before his Liege made a move on the Pack and Patrick would have to move his timetable forward.

“Not anymore.”

Patrick looked back at his friend with sudden understanding. Dean had been worried.

“It wasn’t safe,” Patrick said. “It still isn’t.”

“Is that why you’re babysitting?”

Why was he babysitting? Ethan had been acting strange. He had been like Patrick’s father since he rose that first night but in the last few months, Ethan had been treating Patrick like he didn’t trust him. He’d been with Ethan for the better part of a century. Why would the man second guess his trust now?

“I don’t know why I’m babysitting, actually. Dmitri should have been put down long ago. He’s a danger to all of us and much too public,” Patrick scoffed.

“Hmph,” Dean snorted.

“What does that mean?” Patrick snapped.

“Just . . . hmph.”

Patrick turned his gaze back to the street. Where the hell was Dmitri?

Two women stumbled from the bar beneath Patrick and Dean. They both seemed unsteady, inebriated as the dark haired woman with hair down her back and hips just a bit too wide for Patrick’s tastes slammed into her friend. The other woman was tall, muscular, and voluptuous in a way that Patrick knew would overflow his palm with thick thighs and hips that swayed when she walked. She had shimmering blonde hair that caught his eye in the street light overhead. She seemed irritated as she aided, practically carried her friend down the sidewalk. Her steps were steady, sure and Patrick knew she wasn’t intoxicated in the least.

The wind shifted, blowing the scent of the two women up. Their scents mingled together like vinegar and oil. One was deeper, musky, tangled with the acidic scent of alcohol. The other was soft, carrying the scent of jasmine oil and something else . . . something old.

“What is that?” Dean asked, leaning over the edge. He took a deep breath, filling his nose with her scent again.

“She smells of magic,” Patrick whispered.

“None that I’ve smelled before. It’s old. Too old for either one of them.”

Patrick watched the blond as she and her friend crossed the street toward the university dorms.

“Dmitri,” Dean growled low in his chest.

Patrick’s eyes shot back to the sidewalk and the vampire he’d been following all night lurking in the shadows like a common vagrant. Dmitri crossed the street, following the two women down the sidewalk into the darkness. The streetlights grew farther and farther apart, snaking shadows across the parking lot.

“Stop him,” Dean growled.

“Why?” Patrick asked but a twinge in his gut agreed with his friend. He should stop Dmitri. Magic still tingled in his nose, pulling at his brain and his being for recognition, as if he should know it, know her. The magic seemed basic, primal, complex, and new all at the same time. What was she?

“I don’t know,” Dean answered, confused. “But something’s gnawing at me to stop him.” Before either could move, Dmitri was already on them.


Damn her!  My plan for the night had not been to carry her drunk ass across campus. I’d just met her a few weeks ago for Christ’s sakes and this was not my responsibility. I wasn’t her mother. But I couldn’t leave her either.

“I love you,” Lisa slurred up at me.

“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Sure.”

She stumbled into me, again. Damn, she was heavy. I tripped on her clumsy feet but caught myself before both of us hit the ground. If we fell, I wasn’t picking her back up. I wasn’t. Okay, I probably would, but I wouldn’t like it.

We stumbled through triangles of shadows cast by the street lights as I tried not to break my neck on something unseen or uneven pavement. The street lights were getting farther apart, keeping us in darkness longer and longer which didn’t sit well with me. A chill swept up my spine that sent the hairs on the back of my neck on end and my heart raced in anticipation.

“I do, you know,” she slurred again.

“That’s great, Lisa. Now, hurry the hell up and get your ass moving,” I snapped. I had a bad feeling churning in my stomach and I wanted to be back in our rooms.

“Can I help?” a man asked behind me. His voice was rough, filled with gravel that rumbled around his thick Eastern European accent. He was too close. Much too close.


“Stop him,” Dean growled again, low in his chest. This time, it wasn’t a request.

“I think we’re too late,” Patrick whispered, panic filling him and he couldn’t even say why.


I dropped Lisa and turned.

“Hey,” she snarled as her ass hit the cement, hard.

“Shut up!” I snapped. We were in trouble. I could feel it down to my toes. I didn’t have any cash on me but then again, this guy didn’t look like he wanted cash.

“You should listen to your friend,” he said, smirking at Lisa and then fixing his gaze on me with a singularity that tightened my stomach in dread.

“What do you want?” I barked, stepping in front of Lisa who still sitting on the sidewalk.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Lisa groaned behind me, just before she retched a few times, spilling the foul smell of vomit into the air. Perfect!

     The man looked down at her and then back up at me with a disgusted expression and his lips curling into a sneer. He turned his nose up at the stench. “I will leave that one.”

“You’ll be leaving both of us,” I said, thrusting every ounce of confidence and malice I had into that one sentence.

“I don’t think so,” he cooed as the corners of his mouth turned up in a lecherous, hungry smile.

He lunged at me.

He was quick. Too quick for my eyes to follow. His hands gripped my throat, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe and my lungs burned with the lack of oxygen. Lifting me from the ground with one hand as if I weighed nothing, my feet dangled from the ground. I kicked out at him, clutching his hand around my throat as I tried to wedge my fingers in-between his grip and my neck. His grip was iron tight around and pain surged through my entire being as his fingers dug into my flesh.

My heart pounded in my head, filling my ears with the steady thump-thump, thump-thump of its beat. I stared up into his face and caught his malicious grin spread across his lips, exposing a straight line of white teeth . . . and . . . fangs. SHIT! He couldn’t be . . . could he? I kicked at him again but each time I made contact, he shrugged it off.

“You smell too good to resist,” he drooled in his thick accent. He pushed his thumb up under my chin, tilting my head away, exposing my neck. Leaning into me, he ran his tongue up the long line of my throat in a languorous stroke of saliva. I shivered at the feel of him on my body and something clicked into place.

Alright, I’ve had enough. My instincts took over before I could think too much about it. I didn’t want to think. I wanted this thing’s hands off me and to get Lisa and me back to our dorms in one piece. I wanted this asshole to know he couldn’t just walk up to anyone and hurt them. I wouldn’t let him hurt me or anyone, ever again.

Kill him, a voice whispered in a deep, husky enticement from the back of my mind. Kill him, she said again. He’s not one of us.

No, he wasn’t. My body stilled and I stopped fighting.  My mind cleared and a peace I’d never known settled over me. I was going to kill him and I knew it as much as I knew my name was Dahlia Sabin.

He lapped at my neck one last time, bringing his tongue all the way up to my ear. “You taste like power,” he purred in my ear. As the last word left his lips, he reared his head back and exposed his fangs before he lurched at my exposed skin.


“What is that?” Patrick asked in a hush as he watched the blond woman struggle in Dmitri’s grasp. Dmitri was playing with her, in the open, in full view of anyone who wanted to watch.

“I don’t know,” Dean said as his fingers gripped the edge of the roof with white knuckled intensity. The three of them stood in shadows, far from the unnatural light of the streetlamps as Dmitri gripped her by the neck. Even with that fact, everywhere around her, illuminating the shadows like a beacon a soft, red glow emitted. Patrick watched Dmitri lick a long line up her neck, unaware of the blushing glow growing out from her body. Dmitri was a dead vampire. He’d kill that sonovabitch himself.

She stopped struggling.

“What’s she doing?” Dean snapped. His voiced rung with the same fear Patrick felt tighten his gut. He’d pegged that girl as a fighter and something inside him didn’t want her to give in, didn’t want her to just lie down and die. The soft red glow around her became a harsh red slash of light through the darkness as Dmitri reared his head back to strike and Patrick stood in awe of her. It would be a shame if this creature were to perish at Dmitri’s unworthy hands.


I reached out and grasped his head in my hands. Before he could think to push my hands away, I twisted his head sharply, snapping his neck. He released his grip on my throat and I dropped to the ground, crouching low. I caught my breath and waited for the sound of his body to hit the ground.

It never came.

I glanced up at the man still standing in front of me with his head twisted at an unnatural, uncomfortable angle.  He should’ve been dead.

“Fuck,” I breathed. He reached his hands up and placed them firmly on either side of his face. The man twisted his neck back into place, and cracked it back, shifting his chin up on either side.

“You stupid little BITCH! That hurt,” he growled. I scrambled backward on my hands, dragging my ass across the pavement as I climbed over Lisa’s passed out, limp body.

Kill him, kill him, through the heart, she whispered like a mantra.

My mind tried to grapple with the idea of a man who didn’t die when you broke his neck. I’d definitely felt the pop.

Through the heart? 

Why through the heart? Fangs . . . Fuck! Vampire!

If the attack had happened on anyone else, vampire would not have been the first guess. I was different. I’d seen spirits, ghosts, and poltergeists since the age of five, been attacked by a ghoul in a cemetery and felt the pull of magic too often to count. Just because I’d never encountered a vampire before, didn’t mean I couldn’t believe. Looking up into this guy’s eyes, I believed. Oh boy, did I believe.

“Through the heart then,” I whispered. I had to find something. I didn’t have any weapons, why would I? College students didn’t walk around with weapons. I moved to my right, tripping over Lisa’s outstretched arm. My ass hit hard, spilling into the soft, warm mound of vomit. Fanfuckingtastic!  It soaked through my jeans, turning my stomach. Now, I was pissed.  The vampire took careful steps toward me, slow, watching.

I reached out, spreading my arms wide, searching for anything that I could use to defend myself. My fingers wrapped around a long flimsy branch from the nearby dogwood tree. It was blunt and would probably snap on impact but it was all I had.

He stepped over Lisa, too casual and much to focused on me.  I hated her all the more for passing out. If I lived through this, I’d have to carry her back and covered in her vomit. I hated drunk people.

The vampire reached down and grabbed the front of my shirt, yanking me to my feet. My head whipped back with his strength. I was going to live. Damn it! If it was the last thing I did!

He snarled at me, exposing teeth and fangs in a glistening white sheen. I tightened my grip around the branch and thrust it up under his ribs. The branch pushed through his thin t-shirt, into his body, through flesh and muscle. The cool, sticky sensation of his blood spilling over my hand, turned my stomach. His eyes widened in disbelief as he met my glare. He released my shirt, shoving me away before he fell to his knees. Gasping for air, he scrambled to tug the branch from his chest.

I took a step back, out of reach as he swung his arms out to me, flailing.

“You stupid cunt!” he yelled. His skin moved over the flesh and bone, weakening to an almost paper thin transparency, stretching from his bones, and shriveling away from his face.

“Christ on Crutches,” I gasped.

His head, take his head that same voice whispered.

“His head? What the hell with?” I called out into the darkness, frustration making my anger seep into my blood and making it boil through my veins. I staggered back another step as he fell forward, trying to grab me. The vampire slammed face-first into the ground, driving the branch further into his chest, and up through his back.


“She killed him,” Dean said with an uncharacteristic smile pushing the corners of his mouth up.

“Yes, she did,” Patrick said as he watched her stand like a Fury over her kill. Her chest heaved with her heavy breath and her adrenaline made her scent a heady mixture of Jasmine, magic and power. The harsh red glow simmered down to a soft blushing pink as Dmitri decomposed on the ground.

“His head? What the hell with?” she seemed to cry out in frustration. To whom she spoke, Patrick didn’t know.

“Do you have your knife?” Patrick asked. Dean nodded and pulled the 8 inch silver plated bowie knife from the sheath in his boot. Dean flipped the knife in his hand, gripping the blade in his palm. “Be careful,” Patrick snapped.


Dean brought the knife back and threw it. The blade soared through the air, across the street, over the grass, sinking it into the ground a few feet behind her. She backed up another step, tripping over the knife with her foot. She stumbled but caught herself and glared down at the knife sticking out of the ground. She seemed frozen for a moment, but only long enough to blink. She grasped the exposed handle in her hand and ripped it from the ground and took the two long strides toward Dmitri.

The woman knelt down at the vampire’s shoulders. She raised the knife above her head without a single hesitation and brought it down hard. Sinking the knife’s blade through the shrinking flesh of Dmitiri’s neck, she severed his head from his body.

Once his head and heart were separated, Dmitri erupted in a puff of ash. His decomposition was sped up and had destroyed any existence that he ever existed.

“She didn’t even flinch,” Patrick said, transfixed.

“Except for the flicker in that red glow around her.”

The woman, a girl really, stood and brushed the ash from her jeans. She shoved the knife in her back pocket and glanced around. Glancing over her shoulder, she evaluated at the mess on her pert, round ass. She released a frustrated, defeated sigh up to the heavens and shook her head.

“Hey, Lisa,” she snapped at the woman passed out on the ground. She reached down and tugged at the woman’s shirt. When the girl didn’t wake, she struck her across the face. The crack of flesh on flesh rang in Patrick’s ears, making his body tingle from head to toe with the violence, the power, and the determination of this woman.

“I’m not carrying your heavy ass after the night I’ve had,” she hissed. The inebriated girl finally opened her eyes and staggered to her feet. Without another work, she strode off, leaving the girl to follow or not.

“That was . . .” Dean started.

“Incredible,” Patrick finished.

“What are you going to do?” Dean asked with a hush still in his voice.

“Nothing,” Patrick said with a mischievous grin cresting his lips. He had a plan that could turn the tide to everything he’d ever hoped. “If he’s stupid enough to get staked by a coed then he deserved it.”

“She’s a little more than just a coed.”

“Yes, she’s the Blushing Death,” Patrick said with a satisfied smile.

“What?” Dean asked, finally turning his glare at Patrick with that Alpha stare.

“Even little children have something they fear. It’s been a long time since we did. Spread the word. There’s a new boogey man in town,” Patrick said.

“No more babysitting then?” Dean asked with an understanding nod.

“No more babysitting. If I can make her a bigger threat, maybe he’ll forget about you for a while.”

“And give you a chance to keep an eye on her,” Dean scoffed at his friends semblance of goodwill.

“That too.”

Golden Anidae

I know I’m a day late and I’m sorry. I’m working on a scene from Dean’s point of view for next week…I promise! To tide you over, here’s a snippet for you from Golden Anidae – out now from Soul Mate Publishing.

From Chapter 1

The bar was stifling, crammed with people as a purple strobe light flickered through the club. My pulse thundered in my ears and a pain burned behind my eyes as the smoke machine’s output stung my retinas. Pressed up against the bar, the railing dug into my ribs, the throng of people a constant pressure at my back. I was trapped and still didn’t have a drink to show for it.

It was almost comforting. No one knew who I was. No one was looking to kill me and no one was evaluating my every move trying to figure out what it meant. I felt almost normal. Almost.

The bass thumped and the guy behind me got a bit too happy about being pushed up against me. I tried to shift but there was nowhere for me to go as he continued to dig his embarrassingly large erection into my ass. The crowd at the bar was five deep and I wasn’t wasting all this effort and discomfort without that drink. Suffering silently, as long as that erection stayed where it was and didn’t start to wander, I would get my drink.

“What’ll ya have?” the thin brunette behind the bar asked with a smile that was a definite tip earner. She was short with too much breast for her petite frame. Her eyes were deep russet in the purple light and she had a smile that lit up her face as she gave me a once-over.

“Vodka, straight up,” I said with an answering grin. That was all she was getting as the asshole behind me shoved his hard-on into the flesh of my ass, my skirt the only barrier.

Would anyone notice if I elbowed him in the face? He’d probably scream like a little girl, I thought to myself, smiling and transforming my face from forced pleasantry into a smirk of delight. The bartender appreciated that grin more than I’d meant her to.

“It’s on the house,” she said with a coy smile, sliding the drink across the bar to me. Her fingers grazed mine and hesitated a moment longer than was appropriate for a casual touch.

“Thank you,” I said, turning to get out of the crowd surrounding the bar. As I passed the dickweed with the erection, I jammed my finger in-between his third and fourth rib. He jerked and grabbed his side with a pained expression in his eyes that pleased me more than it should have. “So sorry,” I mocked my apology with eyes that were too large to be sincere.

“Bitch,” he grumbled low enough that someone with normal hearing wouldn’t have heard. I, however, could hear a heartbeat at 100 yards due to my involvement with the preternatural community back home in Columbus. I heard him just fine.

As the all-too-familiar euphemism graced my ears, it brought a smile to my face, a real malicious smile that warmed me to my toes. Yep, I was a bitch all right. Couldn’t men think of anything else besides Bitch? I strutted back to where I’d left Enza in the corner, surrounded by local guys she knew. She was like a dude magnet and since she was a few years under thirty, she was still in that flirty I’m-not-looking-for-anything-serious kind of mindset. I was in the stay-the-fuck-away-from-me mode which most of the guys she introduced me to picked up on right away. She waved at me over the crowd of heads surrounding her with a smile that could light up the night.

“What took you so long?” she asked, hopping from the stool she’d been perched on. She sashayed toward me to the dismay of the five fairly attractive guys she left behind.

“Long line,” I answered.

We bumped and ground our way to a more secluded corner, away from the huddle of men. They seemed to follow her around like an entourage. It was annoying as hell.

We found some seats beneath one of the bird’s nests where scantily clad girls danced in knee-high go-go boots and low-rise hip-hugger boy shorts. Silver and gold satin left nothing to the imagination.

Soraida, Cadenza’s best friend, sauntered over to us with a sultry sway of her hips that drew the attention of every man she passed. Her soft Hispanic features, bright green eyes under café au lait skin and dark ebony hair that trailed down her back, lightly swinging several inches above her tight round ass, made me envious. She was art in motion.

“Hey, Chicas,” Soraida said with a warm smile directed to both of us.

I liked her. She was a good friend to Cadenza and they were more like sisters than any two people I’d seen since Am and I. A small tug at my gut at the thought of Am made the hole in me ache. I thought about Am often. I thought about her afraid and in pain, about how she’d still be alive if not for me.

Was she angry with me? Was she happy where she was? Did she forgive me for all the lies? Would she ever forgive me for letting her down?

Shaking off the questions I couldn’t answer, I glanced at Enza and Soraida. This wasn’t the place, and I didn’t want to have to explain tears to either of them. I sipped my drink and focused on their conversation.

“No, girl, he was just an ass. Not to mention the tiny asset,” Soraida said with a flare of her hand and a mocking smile.

Cadenza erupted in laughter.

Even I smiled as the rest of the world and all my emotional bullshit was stripped away by two women and their conversation about men and sex.

“Shut up,” Enza laughed, trying to catch her breath. “He walks around like God’s gift.”

“Well, if that was God’s gift, it was definitely a re-gift and cheap, too,” Soraida said with a knowing grin.

We all laughed at that.

After an hour and a drink or two, or three, I was laughing and talking like the world outside wasn’t full of things that could kill me. I was laughing like before I knew there were monsters and that I was one of them. It was wonderful to forget. I felt lighter in my own skin, easy in a way that I’d never been.

“I swear on everything I hold dear, she walked out of that restroom with the entire back of her skirt tucked into her panties. It was like a thong parade through the restaurant,” Soraida said, giggling and spilling her drink down the front of her jeans, more than a little drunk.

I leaned forward to catch her before she fell off her chair. Steadying herself on her own, she set her glass down on the table in front of her. I sat back and relaxed against the hard cushioned surface, easing off.

Sweating in the body heat filled air, I wiped the moisture from my neck and underneath my hair every five or six minutes. My hair had grown down to my shoulders since I’d been away, longer than I’d had it in years. I lifted the heavy weight of it off my skin, exposing the back of my neck to fresh air.

A frost crept up my spine like a lick of winter in the middle of the humid club. The crisp edge of power rippled against me like stale ice on a cold winter’s day in January. Patrick’s was frigid water from the summit of a fresh mountain river, constant and overwhelming. This was sharp like an icicle into my neck, and frightening.

I shivered as the power scraped along my spine.

Sitting up straight in the chair, I tried to force the slight alcohol-induced haze from my awareness. My metabolism ran faster after consuming a bit of Danny’s heart by accident and I just had to wait for my body to take the edge off the alcohol. Three or four minutes tops. Fear, causing my heart to race would surely help, cutting the time to two minutes but no more . . . I hoped.

I had been comfortable.

Stupid. STUPID!!!

An ice-cold finger grazed across the back of my neck and I jumped up off the stool, knocking it to the ground in a quiet thud. The crash was drowned out by the thumping bass of the club and only a few people immediately surrounding us noticed.

I turned. No one was behind me. I had to get my back against a wall, any wall, and defend myself. As I glanced around, hordes of bodies thrashed about on the dance floor but they were all human. I couldn’t find the twinge of frostbitten power in the crowd that’d swept over me only a moment ago. The power seemed to reach out and touch me in places that power shouldn’t touch, hadn’t touched in months.

I took one deep breath and then another, focusing on the human auras surrounding me and the power signatures beyond. Sweat beaded on my upper lip and embedded in my eyebrows as I concentrated, forcing the power from me. I’d taken that ability for granted and now when I needed it, I was screwed.

“Hey, you okay?” Enza asked, taking the drink from my hand and setting it on the table next to her.

“Maybe someone slipped something into her drink. She looks pale,” Soraida shouted over the bass, placing her hand on my sweat-drenched forehead. She gave Enza a concerned sideways glance and dropped her hand.

“Do you feel all right?” Enza asked, sitting on the edge of her chair.

I couldn’t answer her. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears in a steady bumbum . . . bumbum . . . bumbum. My own voice was loud in my mind, screaming at me.

I can’t get away. They know who I am. I’ve been so careful. I’m all alone, no weapon and they’ve found me.   

Turning my attention back to the crowd, I searched for the vampire I knew was there. A male. I’d felt him. I felt his testosterone surge through his power as it touched me. He was old. I’d felt that too. He either wasn’t there anymore or he was too powerful and I couldn’t find him. Or, and this was my fear, I wasn’t powerful enough. That scared the shit out of me. I suddenly felt weak, like someone had cut off my arm and now wanted me to swim the English Channel. I’d cut myself off from my power, leaving the connections back in Columbus.

“We’re gonna leave,” Enza said from what seemed like miles away. “You want to come over, Sori?”

Nada, Chica. I’m meeting Everett here after his shift at the Bellagio. Thanks, though,” she said before a brief kiss on the cheek for Enza and a wave of her hand for me. She sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Later,” Enza called after her, grabbing my arm and guiding me through the crowd. “We’ll go and get some water into you,” she shouted into my ear.

She wrapped her arm around my waist. Supporting me as I stumbled through the crowd, she held on and I searched for that lick of winter.

I was more terrified than sick and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed her help. I couldn’t focus on getting through the crowd and trying to find that whisper of ice in the room. My hands trembled at the thought of being discovered and having nothing to protect myself. I’d left everything behind in the rubble of my burned down house and the remnants of my shattered life.

Enza shoved through the thick crowd in the club and the casino until I felt the open, cool air of the desert night on my face. The scent was crisp and clean like fresh linen. I breathed deep and felt the chilled night air fill my lungs. Enza waved at the valet and handed him our ticket.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, examining me, feeling my forehead for what, I didn’t know.

“Yeah, it just got too close in there,” I answered.

She rubbed my back absently as the valet brought the car around.

“Getting too old to party like that, huh?” she said with a devilish grin, trying to goad me.

I perked up at that. I couldn’t help it.

“Excuse me?” I said with attitude. “I’m only five years older than you. Wait until you hit 30 and then we’ll talk about too old,” I said, a snarky bite to my tone.

She laughed at my response. Her levity made my insides cringe. I wanted to join in and forget how terrified I’d been only moments before but that lick of winter up my spine was still too fresh in my mind.

It was out there somewhere, and it knew I was here.

The Best Laid Plans

The Golden Anidae is only 9 days away so here’s a freebie! This little short takes place from Dean’s perspective over  a scene in Midnight Ash. MidnightAsh2_850This consists of strong language and has not been professionally edited. Read at your own risk.

The Best Laid Plans

“There’ll have to be a change of plans,” Pat said as if his perfect little world wasn’t falling apart.

I understood the slight tick at the corner of Pat’s eye.  It was almost imperceptible but I knew Pat, knew what to look for.  Pat wanted to kill something, anything that moved to keep the Blushing Death safe.

“What plan?” the dangerous little mouse squeaked.

Danny glanced over at her with guilt written all over his face.  Stupid pup. She could eat Danny alive.  Her face flushed and the soft grey of her eyes swirled with anger, tugging at my insides.  The room filled with her, the soft floral, feminine scent mixed with the rich spiciness of her anger.  My cock hardened along my thigh as her scent permeated my brain, registering something deep in my synapses that I didn’t understand.  My wolf wanted to leap out to meet her, to run with her.  I fought to hold back my beast and keep control.  I had reacted to her like this from the first and it took everything I had not to rub up against her and mark her as mine.

Dear God, what is she?

She glanced over at me, her grey eyes churning with a secret. With a wicked smile on her face, that glint in her eye was as if she’d imagined something horrible in her mind and got satisfaction from it.  I liked that devious and predatory grin.  My wolf knew it for what it was, dangerous, protective, and mine.

Pat reached out and touched her, sliding his cold, dead hand against her cheek.  Something inside me wanted to rip that hand off. It didn’t make sense. Pat was my friend, had been for decades.

The Blushing Death jumped at his touch and my wolf was glad of it. Quicker than either I or Pat saw, she’d drew her knife.  The Blushing Death would never be a victim. She’d kill everyone and everything before she let that happen and I was glad of it. Humans didn’t live long in our world but then again, she wasn’t merely human.

Pat reached out, slow and cautious, touching her again. She dropped the knife but I could see the reluctance in her gaze.  I wished it was my hand on her cheek, wished I was comforting her.

Damn it!

Janey . . . I missed Janey.  That was all. I was lonely, so lonely.  Dahlia Sabin wasn’t mine.  She was Pat’s. My wolf growled deep in my being, arguing with my brain. She may be Pat’s but she would never be Danny’s.  That much, I knew for certain.  No matter how much that boy wanted it to be true, she would never be Danny’s.

“There’s something else?” Pat asked her.

“Later,” she said, turning to face the rest of the room with her shoulders back and her chin high.  That woman was every bit an Alpha and my cock throbbed at the thought of testing her.

“What’s the change in plan?  What’s the plan period?” she snapped, sliding that long silver blade back into it sheath.  I could read the tension in her body and something in me ached to ease it.  She caressed the blade as she would a lover, taking comfort from the weapon and her own sense of determination.  The Blushing Death was no shrinking violet and my cock twitched, imagining her fingers wrapped around my hard length, squeezing my shaft with the same tenderness.  My beast paced back and forth inside me like the caged animal it was, growling through my mind.  I was stronger than this.  I was stronger than whatever was tugging at my chest and riling up my beast.

“Alex and I had intended to confront the board in the Lebensblut New York offices to come up with a compromise,” Pat said with more words than needed. Too many words could get a guy in trouble. “I’d hoped we could stop this before it started.  Make amends somehow.  Now, I’m afraid we’re too late. We’ll make an appeal but I’m afraid that Dahlia needs to be protected.”

She was stiff, her hands balled into fists at her sides as if she wanted to punch everyone in the room. I couldn’t blame her.  Pat was heavy handed but he knew what he was doing.  She took a deep breath and forced her shoulders to relax.

“Okay.  I’ll need protection,” she agreed.

Before I could hold it in, I laughed.  Out loud. The raucous sound was so foreign, I startled myself.  Pat’s eyes were wider than dinner plates and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head.  She’d surprised everyone.  Including  me.

She and Pat both glared at me but I didn’t care.  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed.   It felt good.  Better than I remembered. Who was this woman? My heart raced in my chest and what I could only describe as fear churned in my gut. She’d made me feel things in the last five minutes that I hadn’t felt . . . ever. Not even with Janey.

“Is something amusing, Dean?” Pat hissed.  His jaw was tight and his tone clipped as he glared at me.  I didn’t care.  I enjoyed the light feeling in my chest and even the fear.

“You said she was unpredictable,” I answered through strangled laughter and sunk back into the couch, relaxing.  I liked her more than I knew was good for me.


Hi kiddies! I know I’m a day late. Nothing exciting happened in the last week but we are having a yard sale on Saturday so there’s the potential for alot of humorous incidents. In the mean time, I’m posting a little snippet from Midnight Ash. Its told from Dean’s point of view. This has not been professionally edited or reviewed so READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. If you want to read these little snippets earlier. Join my facebook group Damsel. Well, here goes.


I didn’t want her here. If Danny brought her into the Pack, Dahlia Sabin, the Blushing Death, would be a constant reminder of what I would never have. I sat on the bar, stiff, my body riddled with tension as I watched everything. Watched her.

Jackson and Kurt circled each other but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She stood just off to the side, rigid and at attention – a quiet intimidation in the background of a room full of dangerous beasts. Seeming like she was completely at ease, her hand rested on her cocked hip. I knew better. She had her hand ready for the draw. A knife was strapped at her back beneath the coat. I could smell the oil from the blade and had seen a glimpse of it in the darkened club. I could also smell her. The light floral scent of a shampoo or lotion mixed with her own natural scent was earthy and delicious. Grinding my teeth harder, I forced that smell from my nose.

She flung her golden blonde hair over her shoulder, out of her face and my cock jerked. What’s wrong with me? Danny’s my Beta, my friend, and a nice kid. More importantly, Dahlia Sabin was off limits. Pat didn’t share and neither did I.

Look at him! Coddling her. Trying to keep her out of harm’s way. Standing in front of her like she was weak.

The Blushing Death didn’t need coddled. She wasn’t weak or submissive. By the sidelong glances and irritated tension in her shoulders, I knew she’d had enough. She ground her teeth and the muscles in her neck tightened, strained. The angrier she got, the more her scent filled my nose. I wanted to make her angry and watch those grey eyes flash with emotion.

She turned on Danny, her fingers twitching as she fought not to draw that knife. Danny gazed down at her with a boyish, carefree smile I envied. It had been a long time since I’d been carefree. The Pack had needed me. Janey had needed me. When she’d been killed,I thought I’d lose his mind. But . . . the Pack had needed me.

I glanced away. Janey was gone. This woman could never, would never be mine. No matter how much I wanted her. Something deep inside me hummed with satisfaction every time she was near and that scared the shit out of me.

“Dahlia!” Danny bellowed and my ears perked up.

She sailed across the room as if she’d been shot from a cannon. My heart stopped as her limp body slammed into the floor. I fought not to jump from the bar and run to her. Gripping the edge of the bar, I squeezed until the wood cracked beneath my fingers. She wasn’t mine. She would never be mine. I had to remember that or everything I’d built would come tumbling down.

Midnight Ash Book Cover
Midnight Ash Book Cover

Bullets, Bullets, Everywhere…

Disclaimer: This scene takes place in Pool of Crimson and told from Patrick’s point of view. This vignette has not been professionally edited and contains adult language – READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Damsel was packed from wall to wall with people. A huge success, as I knew it would be. Ethan’s businesses just needed updating and some expansion to be successful. I hadn’t even needed the subsidy from Lebensblut Inc. that Ethan had depended upon. They were not so ecstatic about my lack of dependence but that was a problem for later. The colony was making money, we would survive on our own terms. More importantly, without Lebensblut’s input and fiduciary contributions, I could keep them out of my business and away from Dahlia.

She stood at the bar, talking to Miguel. Dahlia was one of the few people, human or otherwise, Miguel would converse with about anything. She was like a beam of light, beckoning my entire colony to her from the darkness.

They still feared the Blushing Death but they knew she was fair. If she showed up on your doorstep, you’d done something to warrant it. With the new rules in place, everyone was happy. With willing donors everywhere, the unsolved murder rate had declined exponentially. The VIP room of Damsel and the other club ICE were explicitly for feeding purposes. I’d opened an additional club across town for the more base appetites, EROS which was not open to the public. The Colony and the Pack were back on solid ground, acting together. Everyone felt safe. Everyone but me.

I’d managed to hide her this time but Dahlia was too well known. Soon, the Lebensblut board would discover her and my connection to her. I couldn’t allow that, not when I still had no idea what she was or how to protect her.

She turned and smiled at me over her shoulder. Her blonde hair covered up most of the right side of her face, shielding that devilish glint in her eye, but I knew it was there. I could feel it tingling along my skin. The empathic bond thrust upon us had given me a few crucial insights to the magnificent woman sauntering toward me. She had a swagger to her step like no one could touch her that drove me insane.

The Blushing Death was iron willed and had an inner strength that amazed me but she was also vulnerable. She didn’t want anyone, not even me to know that. She hid many dark secrets behind that pretty face and bravado. I hadn’t told her but I’d seen the torture she’d endured in the name of mental health. When our magic had bonded in that limo, I’d seen several close calls where her life had been in question, and a lot of lonely nights. I would never tell her. It was her secret to tell.

She scanned the crowd, darting her gaze from face to face as she continued to smile at me. Her mind was like a complex puzzle, always working, twisting and reconfiguring as the pieces changed. Finally, she glanced back at me with those storm-grey eyes and sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth. Hell on Earth, I loved when she did that.

As if in slow motion, she lost the playful glint in her eyes and her head turned toward the DJ booth at the far end of the club. She started moving before I could rewire my brain from sex to violence. Slamming into me, she forced me to the ground, covering me with her body. Stupid human! I was immortal. She wasn’t.

A pop echoed over the crowd and music as a bullet lodged itself several feet above my head, missing her by a hair’s breath. I could smell the silver from where I lay beneath Dahlia on the floor.

The entire club erupted in panic, screaming and shouting. People ran in all directions like lemmings, looking for a way out. I yanked Dahlia from the floor, following the crowd to lose ourselves in the chaos.

Ready to run after the bastard, I grabbed her wrist to stop her. The soft, red glow of her power flared around her, shimmering against her skin. I’d seen it before but couldn’t name it. The rose colored glow illuminated her in the mass of mundane souls differentiating her as special, deadly. Tapping into the link between us, I felt the white-hot heat of her rage spread over my skin. She met my gaze with a malicious glint to her eyes and a violent smile that curved her full, seductive lips into a sneer. The flare of power around her solidified and strengthened, licking at my hand like a wash of sea water, cold and sharp. Beyond that was the calm in the middle of a storm, a fantastic void I’d never experienced before and could not explain. Her eyes were focused, empty, and dead. I’d never felt such . . . peace . . . in my life. My Blushing Death was a killer, plain and simple, and I loved her for it.

Releasing her wrist, I leaned back against the wall. Nova ran from the entry, fighting the crowd as he slid to a stop at Dahlia’s side.

“Get him out of here,” she ordered.

Nova didn’t flinch as he yanked my arm hard and jerked me through the crowd. Dahlia drew the Smith and Wesson Jade had gotten her for Christmas from the holster at her ribs and took off through the screaming crowd. She snatched Jade, who was trying to climb over the bar with Miguel, and took off into the night. She didn’t look back.

Nova pushed me through the door off the side of the coat check, then up the stairs to my office. He didn’t dare contradict Dahlia’s orders. None of them would. I couldn’t help but smile at how she’d wrapped my colony and me around her little finger.
Nova closed the door behind us and locked the door. The commotion had died down as the club cleared. The police would be there soon. Shots had been fired so someone, if not Miguel would have called the 9-1-1.

“Make sure Miguel is ready for the Police,” I instructed Nova. He opened his cell phone and typed out a text without leaving my side. Shoving the phone in his jacket pocket, he stood stark still watching the chaos die down below through the Plexiglas floor. “You can go, Nova. I’m fine.”

“She’ll have my hide,” he said with an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. Dahlia was like the protector Nova never had and he, of all of his colony, needed her. I strode behind my desk and sat down as my stomach twisted and churned. There was nothing to do but sit and wait. Sit and wait to find out that she’d been killed and he’d done nothing to stop it. Every night was like this. Sometimes his colony forgot she was human. I never did.

I sat there long enough for the club to clear out, for the police to come and go. I sat behind my desk long enough for Miguel and the rest to clean up most of the mess.

“She’ll be alright, you know,” Nova said, reassuring me.

“Sometimes she forgets she’s human,” I mumbled, pretending to work as if the entire situation didn’t bother me.

“No, she doesn’t,” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked, glancing up from the contracts on my desk, suddenly intrigued.

Before he could answer, the door opened and Dean, the pack alpha stepped in. His face was grim and his shoulders stiff with anxiety. The local Pack Gaoh’s expression was blank but his energy filled the room, making the large space feel claustrophobic.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I am. How did you hear?” I asked.

Dean had been keeping his distance from me for a while, since Ethan’s death. He wouldn’t say why, only that it wasn’t a good idea. We conducted business as usual however, but our friendship had been strained over the past few months. It was a curious situation.

“Danny,” he said, almost in a growl.

Ahhh, Danny. The other man in Dahlia’s life. I hated that upstart wolf but he did something I couldn’t. He protected Dahlia in the daylight hours. I would put up with him for now, until I could convince Dahlia to complete the blood ceremony and bond us permanently. Then she wouldn’t need the mongrel.

“How close was it?” Dean asked, sitting down on the couch along the wall.

“Too close,” I said. “The only thing that kept that silver bullet from striking its target was Dahlia.”

“Where is she now,” Dean asked.

“She took out of here like a bat out of hell, chasing after the fucker,” Nova said with a bright, proud smile on his face.

“How you feel ‘bout that?” Dean asked.

“My stomach is in knots waiting to hear something but other than that, I’m fine.”

“But you let her go?”

“Yes,” I growled, not liking the tone in his question.

The phone rang, filling the empty office with its shrill tone. I picked up the receiver, thankful for the distraction. Glancing down at the caller ID, my muscles tightened as Dahlia’s name scrolled across the screen.

“Are you all right?” I asked, unable to hide the concern in my voice.

“I’m fine,” she breathed over the line.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. He’s dead.” Her tone changed. She’d shifted from my Dahlia to the Blushing Death. Just like that, in the time span it took to snap my fingers the soft woman I knew was gone.


“Listen,” she said. “We have a problem. I didn’t get any information out of him other than he wouldn’t be the last.”

I sat silent, digesting the idea that this bullet would not be the last directed at us. Sending one assassin equated to an angry vampire in competition for my territory. An onslaught of assassins was the board putting pressure on me or one of the rival Colonies looking for our complete and utter destruction.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, with agitation making her words sharp.

“I don’t know. I’ll look into this. . .” I wanted to encourage her to come back but as I glanced over at Dean, he shook his head. Interesting. The pack alpha hadn’t been avoiding me, he’d been avoiding her. “Go home and rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fine,” she snapped like a pouting little girl and I laughed. I knew her adrenaline was up. She wanted to come back and show me just how alive she was, but Dean was waiting with an expression as hard and unmovable as granite.

“I opened my mail after you left and received a very nice letter from the Columbus Catholic Dioceses, thanking me for my generous donation,” I said, lightening the mood. I’d actually opened the letter when I’d awaken early in the afternoon but I couldn’t let her think that I’d been sitting around worrying about her. I couldn’t allow any of them to think that, not even Nova.

“You had a giant pentagram etched in the basement and tried to raise a demon, there was some serious bad mojo to get rid of in that house. Trust me, Father Christopher earned every stinking penny,” she snorted. Something about the way she spoke told him that there was more to her words than she was willing to admit. If I listened close enough, I was very sure I could hear the steady beat of her heart over the line.

“So he did. Perhaps I should send him a thank you note,” I said trying to hide the smile on my face from Dean.

“Perhaps you should.”

I sat for a moment, listening to her breathe. The woman had infiltrated my being so quickly and so easily to the point I wasn’t sure I could survive if anything happened to her. My chest tightened at the thought of losing her because the woman mattered more to me than anything else, the colony, the money, the Board, even my own life.

“Please, be careful,” I said and even I heard the pleading in my tone.

“I will,” she breathed, and then the line was dead. I placed the phone on my desk and sat back in my chair. Dean sat silent, watching me as he always did, taking in more information than his stoic, stern exterior gave away.

“Is she alright?” he asked.

I could swear that I heard a hint of concern in that deep Alpha grumble. “She says she is,” I said.

“You don’t believe her?”

“I do but, after all, she’s only human. I wish she wouldn’t take so many chances,” I said.

“Hmph,” Dean snorted.

“Why are you avoiding her,” I finally asked, curious.

“I’m not avoiding her,” he snapped. His tone and the bite in his words was uncharacteristic. It sent my hackles standing on end, not to mention the lie I smelled on him.

“Even I could smell that lie,” I responded.

“I have my reasons,” Dean growled, crossing his arms over his bulky chest. I knew him well enough to know that, for him, the conversation was over. I changed subject.

“The assassin said there would be others.”

“The Board?” Dean asked, relaxing into the couch.

“I don’t know. Possibly.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I have no plan as of yet,” I said, hesitant to say anything. Dean stood to his full height and strode to the door.

“When you do, the Pack is behind you,” he offered which was more gracious than Dean knew. In most territories, the Colonies and Packs were at war. Dean and I were a rare happenstance that I appreciated, counted on. I couldn’t let whatever it was that riled him about Dahlia ruin that.

“Whatever it is?” I warned. “You can’t avoid Dahlia forever. You’ll have to deal with it.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he growled and left, slamming the door behind him.

“Perfect, just bloody, perfect,” I breathed.

Dangerous Desire

Pool of Crimson Book Cover
Pool of Crimson Book Cover

Dangerous Desire

Was that woman mad?

I’d explicitly told her to stay clear of Crimson but there she was bright as a searchlight. She wouldn’t listen, doing whatever the hell she wanted, regardless of the consequences or the danger.

I zeroed in on her scent, a luscious mix of lust, determination, and the playful smell of . . . dahlias, following her through the crowd like a homing beacon locked on target. There were too many of the colony around tonight and even fewer I trusted. Too many would run as quick as they could to Ethan, ensuring her death.

She glided through the crowd, shifting her body with ease, avoiding contact as she sashayed those damned tempting hips back and forth. My mouth watered. What I wouldn’t give to taste her, really taste her. The rich iron of her blood on my tongue mixed with the sweet salt of her pussy. Damn her!

She was running from me. I wasn’t stupid. The woman glanced over her shoulder one too many times to not be running from me. Don’t run! Don’t make me chase you! Reaching out with a quick flick of my wrist, I clutched her biceps, feeling the hard muscle tighten in my grasp as she tensed. I spun her around to face me, staring down into those ferocious, storm gray eyes. Meeting my gaze without a flinch or fear, she lifted her cute little chin in defiance.

Brave! My little Blushing Death was always brave.

Only a breath away, she radiated heat like a furnace. Warmth coated my cold skin and soaked into me, making my insides burn with need, hunger and something else I couldn’t identify. All I knew was I didn’t want to think too hard about it. Glancing down at her full lips, I choked on a groan. It wouldn’t take much for me to close the distance between us, to press her curvaceous body against mine and devour her mouth.

“We should stop meeting like this,” she purred in a raspy voice that made my fingers itch to skim across her warm skin. “We should stop meeting period.”

Her voice was void of any emotion, but her heart . . . her heart couldn’t lie, beating a steady pulse at her neck. The quick thump, thump, thump rang in my ears like a cadence to arms, making my cock stiffen against my thigh.

“I don’t like that option,” I growled. I couldn’t stop the sound from reverberating in my chest. The thought of never seeing this woman again, made something inside me tremble. The thought of the Blushing Death dead or using that saucy mouth on another man’s cock sent a fire through me I hadn’t felt since I was human.

“I don’t really care what you like,” she snapped. A lie. I could taste her fabrication in her scent and the steady pulse at the base of her neck.

I yanked her to me when she struggled from my grip, gaining ground. I couldn’t let her get away. Who knew what or who was waiting for her in one of the dark corners of this club?

“Jesus,” she gasped, her breath hot and delicious across my lips.

“I think you do care,” I rasped, inching my lips closer to her delectable mouth. I smirked at the desperate yearning shining in those stormy gaze. Her eyes widened and her whole body tensed in my arms as her entire being went on alert. She glanced over my shoulder, beyond me as if I wasn’t her concern. Her heart rate skyrocketed beating a heady, intoxicating beat along her long, slender neck. Gooseflesh spread across her skin, covering her from head to toe as she shivered.

Catching Alejandra’s scent behind me, details began to click into place. The spicy scent of Alejandra’s skin filled my nostrils for a moment, drifting on the flow of oxygen from the vents above and then it was gone.  Of all the people behind me, in the club, Dahlia Sabin had picked out a vampire.

She glanced up at me as if nothing had happened. Gripping her other bicep in my hand, I lifted her and shoved her into the wall a few feet behind her. Unable to keep the anger or the gut wrenching fear from my movements, I slammed her weaker, all too human body into the cinder-block.

“You can feel us?” I snarled. My instincts screamed at me to drink her, warning me she was too dangerous. Another voice in the back of my mind laughed, relishing the fact that one of the lambs was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “Who are you? What are you?” I asked, gritting my teeth.

“Let me go,” she snarled, struggling against my hold. The sweet intoxicating scent of her fear filled my nose and tingled along my senses as her deep eyes darted everywhere but at me. My cock was so hard I ached for release. I wanted nothing more than to thrust deep inside this woman, command her, possess her . . . tame her.

Suddenly, as she squirmed and avoided my gaze, I understood. She didn’t know. Whatever she was and whatever power she possessed, the Blushing Death had no idea.

I could no longer contain the unfamiliar heat of lust sweltering across my skin. Closing the distance between us, I devoured her in a hot crush of lips. May Hell consume me! The vixen wrapped those long, luscious legs around my waist and clenched me to her, cradling me in her heat. Slipping my hands underneath her firm muscular ass, I held her pressed against the wall, holding her firm against my body. I sunk my fingers into the warm, exposed flesh of her ass underneath the dress. Her skin was soft as silk and the muscles beneath hard like iron.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and sunk her fingers into my hair, scraping my scalp with her nails. Her lips caressed mine, her tongue plunging into my mouth and scraping the delicate flesh against the tips of my fangs. Damnation! She tasted of sunshine and Heaven.  Or what I imagined Heaven to be. 

Cupping her soft, exquisite face in my hand, I pressed my aching cock into the cradle of her heat, stroking her body into a frenzy of delicious, intoxicating arousal. This woman was intoxication in my arms, dangerous in the best possible way, and I wanted her more than I’d ever wanted any woman. I kissed her as if she mattered to me, licking the inside of her mouth, tasting liquid bliss. A sudden realization spread over me like wildfire, rattling me to my core. Dahlia Sabin, the Blushing Death, did matter to me.

I broke the kiss, using all my strength of will to put distance between us, even if it was only centimeters. A human. The Blushing Death in particular, mattered to me.

“She’s coming back,” she whispered against my lips. Her warm breath caressed my skin like hot velvet and I licked my lips to catch another taste of her. “We’re about to be discovered,” she warned.

She had no idea how close to danger we were. Ethan wasn’t far behind Alejandra and he wanted Dahlia for his own reasons. Reasons he refused to divulge to me or anyone else. We were moments from being discovered and then the Blushing Death would be in Ethan’s hands and not mine. I’d convinced myself that if I kissed her, really kissed Dahlia Sabin, I could forget about her and walk away. I would be able to let Ethan have her and use her as he wished.

“That was supposed to cure me of you,” I admitted, wanting more. So much more.

“How’d that work out for you?” she snorted, a smirk cresting her lush, swollen lips. She was making a joke and I just wanted to kiss that damned smirk from her mouth. There wasn’t time to do it properly.

Releasing my grip on her warmth, she slid down the length of my body and caressed the long length of my engorged dick on her way down. A groan vibrated up my throat as the friction made my entire body shiver in pleasure. With a quick glance over my shoulder at Alejandra, I snatched her hand in mine and took off through the crowd, dragging her behind. Ethan and Alex were too close for me to protect the Blushing Death without revealing my hand. I couldn’t think with the smell of her arousal burning a hole through my nostrils and the taste of heaven still tingling on my tongue. I couldn’t outwit Ethan with images of Dahlia Sabin writhing beneath me filling my brain, of her naked body riding me, of the look on her face as I sunk into her body with my dick and my teeth. I couldn’t concentrate with my cock throbbing from want of her, and the fear of losing her sitting like a brick in my gut. It was now or never.

Now.  I preferred now.