A Feast of Souls: Araneae Nation, Book 2 (37 page)

Heat seared me, lit my skin on fire for his possession. I gasped and clawed at him, drew him deeper in me. I rocked my hips against his, claimed his mouth until he was the one whose lungs failed him. He murmured my name, begged me, and I relished his words of desire on my tongue.

His thrusts turned longer, harder. I held my breath, savored the slow burn of venom building pressure low in my gut. I rode his hip, muscles coiled too tight to release. The brush of his thumb down the seam of my sex made me buck against him. He parted my folds, found the heart of me, flicked that delicate nub with expert fingers, and I screamed his name as the world burned away.

I kissed Vaughn’s face, his neck, encouraged him with soft whimpers. His strokes gained a desperate edge. Salt from his skin tempted me to flick out my tongue and taste him. He gasped, a sound I took as permission to lick the column of his throat…and sink my fangs deep in his neck.

He shouted in surprise, crushed me against his chest as he came inside me.

We lay in a tangle of limbs. Pale light from the breaking dawn made fanciful patterns across Vaughn’s skin. I traced a star pattern, wanting to keep our connection unbroken as long as possible. I sensed our new, physical bond was smoothing the rough edges of our life threads.

His voice, when he found it, was graveled. “You bit me.”

“I’m sorry.” I kept my head down and my smile to myself.

“Liar.” He forced my head up to study my expression. “You enjoyed it.”

I flexed the leg still draped over his hip. “I’m not the only one.”

“A love bite.” He traced the puncture, and his gaze ran hot with approval. “Another first.”

Pride swelled my chest. I had brought that blissful expression to his handsome face. When he cupped my breast, I was loath to remind him, “We promised we’d return before first meal.”

“Did we?” His thumb flicked my nipple.

I arched into his touch. “Vaughn.”

“I like the way my name sounds on your lips.” His hips shifted, and we both groaned. “I like the way your soft body welcomes mine.” He kneaded my thigh. “Gods know I love you, Mana.”

His slow kiss settled into my bones as if he belonged there. When our fingers linked and our bodies surged, I forgot everything but the male cupping my face, forcing my gaze to his, making me see how he cherished me. I did my best to show him he was half of my soul, and all my heart.

And when pleasure wrung his name from me, I put all I knew of love into that single word.

About the Author

Hailey is a wife turned mother turned writer, who loves her husband, her daughter and alone time with her computer. Whenever southern living strikes her as too ordinary, she can be found squinting at her monitor as she writes her next happily-ever-after or with her nose glued to her Kindle’s screen. Wings and/or cupcakes are usually involved…

She loves to hear from readers at
[email protected]
.

You can also swing by
www.haileyedwards.net
for all her latest news.

Look for these titles by Hailey Edwards

Now Available:

Daughters of Askara

Everlong

Evermine

Eversworn

Araneae Nation

A Hint of Frost

Steal the salt. Bind the grimoire. Escape the male.

Eversworn

© 2012 Hailey Edwards

Daughters of Askara, Book 3

When an exchange of stolen goods in the Feriana marketplace turns sour, Isabeau stumbles from the encounter bruised and laden with new orders to complete an even larger heist. With her child’s life at stake, there’s no room for error—or allies.

Armed with a lethal book of spells, she strikes a dangerous bargain with Roland Bernhard. Steal a shipment of salt from the Feriana colony, and she’ll have her freedom—and her daughter. It’s all she’s ever wanted. At least it was…until she runs into Dillon Preston.

Dillon is out of commission after a mine explosion, and itching for a distraction. He gets it when the female who saved his leg arrives at the colony with nothing but flimsy excuses and even flimsier attire. She’s after something, but is it him—or the salt?

Trapped in a desperate bid to gain true freedom, Isabeau is willing to sacrifice her life for her daughter’s, but Dillon has other plans. He wants a package deal, and he’s not willing to lose either female, even if it means the future king of Sere’s head will roll.

Warning:
This title contains a heroine desperate to save her daughter and a hero determined to make them a family. It also includes wings, horns and other assorted appendages.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Eversworn:

“Don’t play with me. I promise you won’t like the outcome.” Fisting the front of my shirt, he dragged me precious inches nearer. “Answer me.” His voice lowered. “What kind of male lets his female take all the risks and then leaves her alone in the desert?” He was careful of me. Not gentle, not rough, either. He took pains not to hurt me. Yet. He snarled, “
Where is your mate
?”

I shoved at him. “
I don’t have one
.”

His lips parted, and I waited for his next accusation.

None came. His grip tightened as he dragged me closer. “Damn you.” His head lowered, and his mouth covered mine. His lips were hard, his kiss angry. One arm circled my back and flattened me to him while his other hand tangled his fingers in my hair. Most of it had fallen loose, and he wound the thick strands around his fist and tore our mouths apart. Panting hard, he scowled down at me as if this were all somehow my fault. He was tense, and his fury vibrated along his skin. I pushed at his chest in an effort to put space between us, but he wasn’t having any of it. He molded me to him until his heartbeat pounded on my chest. His eyes were mirror-bright and full silver. It was a small crack in his glamour, his second today. What did that mean?

“Let me go, please.” I shoved at him again. “I’ll answer what questions I can, I promise.”

“I don’t think I can.” Burying his face in my neck, he inhaled. His tongue slipped out to lick the sweat from my skin, and my lungs deflated on a sigh that coaxed a pained groan from Dillon.

He shivered in my arms, and I held him, stroking across his shoulder and down his back as my mind churned with possibilities. “How are you feeling?” The cut to his neck might explain his fevered skin and racing heart. I had a theory that his time on Earth had lowered his resistance to bacteria native to Askara. Exposure to a new strain could make his old ailments flair, I thought.

“Just…give me…a minute.” Heavy panting dampened my neck, but his grip loosened and he managed to pull back and glare down at me. “Don’t move.” He stumbled from me. “I need air.” He pointed to the bench. “Sit your ass down.” He cupped the back of his neck as he turned.

“Wait.” I ran forward and touched his elbow. “Let me help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” His growl froze me in my tracks. “Don’t touch me.”

I would have said he was the one having trouble keeping his hands to himself, but I could use the reprieve. He could get his air and clear his head while I used his absence to clear mine. I watched him stalk to the mouth of the cave. If I so much as took a step, he would hear me. Even with his leg still on the mend, he wasn’t a male I wanted to cross. I wasn’t going to go anywhere.

Time for a new plan
. I sat on the bench and rested my head against the wall of the mine. He had brought me down here rather than turn me in for a reason. Whether it was his sickness or something else, I couldn’t say. Tucking my locket into my top, I brushed skin instead of pointed edges or salt cubes. My breasts were nicked and scratched. I readjusted the fabric to cover them.

Across the tunnel, I spied a battered crate near where I’d awakened. Leaning forward as far as I dared, I made out several cubes of salt stacked neatly inside. Balanced on the topmost square sat the broken horse carving I’d stolen from Dillon’s tent. Balled in the bottom was the handkerchief stained with his blood. I knew I should snatch my prize, but after what I’d done to Mason…I had lost my appetite. While Dillon’s back was turned, I crept toward the box and snitched the horse.

Why the attachment? I supposed I wanted something of his to hold on to once this ended.

Rock crunched under a heavy boot. I froze, then rushed back to my seat. When no reprimand came, I glanced his way. He shifted his weight and massaged his neck as he stared at the desert.

His fever-addled mind was dangerous, but it might also prove my best hope for escape.

The healer in me longed to examine him, but I doubted he would trust me near him now. He knew I’d hurt Mason and the legionnaire whose horse I’d stolen. That blasted horse. I had to catch her. If I told Dillon his salt was strapped to her back, he would mount a recovery effort. Bringing me along would be foolhardy. Why give a dangerous prisoner freedom? No. He’d leave me behind. It made the most sense. Perhaps if I were lucky my new jailer would be less attentive.

Break free, await Dillon’s return, steal the salt and then
…hope I made it farther this time.

Air at the edge of the mine was stifling, but Dillon would rather face the midday sun than the demoness waiting for his return. So much for asking the hard questions. Her accomplice, and she must have one, remained a mystery. Now that his mind was clearing, he noticed she hadn’t said the father of her child wasn’t involved.
Father of her child
. A growl pumped through his chest. He didn’t like that idea. Not one bit. So she had a daughter but not a mate. Or had she lied again?

Frowning, he massaged his nape while gathering his wits about him.

Isabeau as a mother… He admitted it wasn’t a far stretch to imagine her in the role. Even her lack of a mate was easily explained. Slaves birthed their owners’ bastards all the time. Most were sold once they reached a self-sufficient age. The girl in the portrait had the same roundness in her cheeks that Galvin had had until this last year. Based on that, he’d peg her at four or five years old. Old enough she must belong to Isabeau’s former master, whoever the bastard was. His hands balled.

Focus. The past can’t be changed. Accept it, deal with it and move on.

Accept it
. She had a child. Between females aided by the freeborn legion and the consulate, so did one out of every four rescued, and his estimation wasn’t generous. Accepting she might be protecting the girl’s father was harder. It hinted at a relationship she had denied.
Deal with it
. She wasn’t his, and he didn’t want a mate.
Move on
. Claiming meant surrendering freedom he had fought too hard and lost too much achieving. No female deserved that level of control over him.

With his resolve fortified, he turned and made his way back to his prisoner.

The warrior in her was ready for anything. But she never saw him coming…

Riever’s Heart

© 2011 Renee Wildes

Guardians of Light, Book 5

Verdeen is on the brink becoming an elite warrior ranger until the ultimate humiliation—no war mare chooses her for advanced training. King Loren’s consolation prize isn’t much better. Journey to the Isle of Ice as bodyguard to a
human riever.
Daq Aryk. Barbarian. Prince of thieves.

Aryk dreams the impossible: unite six fractious clans into a peaceful nation. Failure means they are all doomed to kill each other off—and the nightmares of his son’s death by sword will come true. The new elven ambassador rouses his ire, not because she’s female, but because she’s inexperienced. Her possibly needless death weighs on his already overburdened soul. Her beauty is a distraction he can’t afford.

In a fragrant, moonlit garden, Verdeen dares yield to an irresistible compulsion to kiss the mortal riever. The heat shakes her to the core, and frees a desire that should occur but once in her life. With a mate.

As their quest twists down ever more dangerous paths, though, their bond is the asset that could assure peace…or the liability that could send a dream down in flames.

Warning: This tale illustrates what happens when adventurous dreamer meets seen-it-all cynic. Contains hot, no-holds-barred sex, voyeurism, and some self-loving. Also betrayal and some graphic (but never gratuitous) battle violence.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Riever’s Heart:

Verdeen paced through the lush gardens, letting the honey scent of night-blooming moonflowers soothe her. Their waxy ivory petals glowed in the lights. Thank the Lady goddess, everyone seemed to be inside. The splashing of the wishing fountain drew her, and she emerged into a small clearing lit by pink mage light. She wasn’t the first to venture there. She froze at the intimidating figure staring into the shadowy ripples of water. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here—”

“Don’t go.” Aryk turned from the fountain and held out a sun-bronzed hand. “Stay.”