Midnight's Master (36 page)

But he’d never be able to prove it.

Sonofabitch.

It looked like the demon-hunter case was closed.

The next night, Niol sat at the bar and waited for his reporter. She’d promised to meet him after her last broadcast.

She chose me. That fact stil managed to shock him, and little shocked him.

He’d take it slow with her, make sure she understood just what his life entailed. Then, when she was ready, he’d let her know that when he said forever, well, he meant it.

No way would he spend any days without her. There were ways to extend a life—ways he’d share with Holly.

As he’d share everything with her.

A young blond woman walked into his bar. He watched her, vaguely curious. Not demon. Human.

Not there to play.

Interesting.

He glanced at his watch. Holly would be there soon. Five minutes, ten tops.

He’d have her naked in his office three minutes after that.

“I’m looking for a vampire.”

Niol blinked and found the blonde in front of him. Terrible haircut. Short and shaggy.

He motioned to the bar. “Take your pick.”

Her hands balled on her hips. “His name’s Lane. Lane Mims. Asshole with a habit of hurting women.”

Niol stared back at her. “Haven’t seen him.” Who the hell was this woman?

Holly walked into the bar. He caught a glimpse of her over the blonde’s shoulder, caught her scent—sweet lavender. Niol rose.

The human put her hand on his chest. A hand that pushed a small business card against him. “Yeah, you have.”

When her hand moved, he caught the card. Bounty hunter.

Behind her, Holly cut her way through the crowd.

“If he’s dead, I’m wasting my time here.” Blunt.

Holly saw him and a smile lit up her face. Her dimple winked.

My life.

So fucking simple.

The card turned to ash in his fingers. He stepped to the side and reached out a hand to Holly. “Guess you’d better head back to—” What address had been on the card?

“Louisiana, then. Because that vamp isn’t around here.” Well, pieces of him could be.

Lane had made another attack. Barely left a teenage girl alive.

The cops hadn’t caught him, but the demons had.

The woman’s lips thinned.

Holly took his hand and glanced at the other woman.

But the bounty hunter just turned and walked away.

“Who is she?” Holly asked.

To her, he wouldn’t lie. Ever. He’d told her all his secrets in the hours before dawn.

Every black deed, and she’d stayed with him. “Bounty hunter. Looking for a vamp—”

“Lane.”

He hadn’t given her the name, but if there was one thing he’d realized about his Holly

—the woman had some damn good sources.

“I saw the girl. Kennedy. I talked to her when I went to the hospital to check on Kim.”

“Kim’s awake?” He hadn’t heard that—

“Yeah—yeah, she’s awake. Doesn’t remember anything about the attack. The doctors don’t understand how she’s survived, but they think she’s going to make a full recovery.”

Good.

“Kennedy—she wasn’t doing as well.”

Because she was a human.

“I-I called Dr. Drake. Asked her to stop by and talk to her.”

Smart. Emily would help the girl. All the other doctors would just think she was crazy when Kennedy started talking about men with fangs and claws. Emily would understand.

Yes, the Monster Doctor would help her.

Just like she was helping the King boy.

“Lane—he’s been stopped, hasn’t he?” Not a question, too much certainty there.

“Yes.”

“Good.” A dark understanding was in her eyes, the kind one only got after living in the Other world. “Prisons just can’t hold some people.”

They sure couldn’t hold vamps. But in this case, it didn’t matter. Lane wouldn’t be a problem for anyone, not anymore.

He’d have to check on the girl. He’d ended the vamp’s attacks, but—too late. Kennedy’s assault was on his shoulders. He’d left the vamp in such a hurry to find Holly. There hadn’t been enough time then to—

Holly nodded. “You did what you had to do…”

And he’d do it again.

“I saw what he did,” she continued. “I saw.”

No judgment against him. No fury. Understanding.

The woman had his heart in her fist.

“You don’t have to fight alone anymore, Niol. You’ve got me now.”

Holly didn’t look at him with fear or revulsion or disgust.

She just looked at him as if he were—a man.

Every dark secret. Every black spot on his soul. She knew.

Fuck if she didn’t make him want to be—hell, better.

Maybe he could be, for her.

Her slow smile spread over her face. The smile that made his cock jerk and his control weaken.

His woman.

One that wouldn’t run away, one that wouldn’t fear him.

One that wouldn’t break, no matter how fierce the danger flowed around her.

She’d shot her ex-lover for him. Put herself in front of death, for him.

A woman like her, if she offered herself, a smart man held as tight as he could.

“I love you,” Holly whispered.

Niol knew he was staring at his weakness and his strength.

His heart…held in her fist.

Screw doing what was right. Holly wanted him, he wanted her, and he’d make sure he gave her every single thing she desired in this life. He’d love her every night. He’d give her as much pleasure and passion as she could stand, until she screamed for him to stop, then screamed for him to start again. He’d protect her. And he’d fucking destroy anyone who ever tried to hurt her.

Fate could be a cruel bitch, but sometimes, sometimes, she could take pity on a demon.

She’d sure given him a real taste of Paradise.

Need some INSTANT GRATIFICATION?

Jil Shalvis’s new book is just the thing…

T his was new for him. And oddly…stimulating. “I think I’m going to be okay.”

Emma arched a brow. Daring him to admit the truth. “Annie told you,” he said with a sigh.

“That you’re on a volunteer search and rescue team and you were called out to save a guy who’d gone off a cliff on his rock climb? That said guy panicked once you had him halfway up the cliff to safety, knocking you down about fifty feet? Yeah, she told me. You might have told me.”

Stone looked at Annie, who was suddenly very busy at the stove.

“Oh, and given the redness I see around some of your cuts and bruises, you do need the antibiotics.”

“You said I looked good.”

“That was a few days ago. You don’t look good now.”

She let him start sweating over that one for a beat, before she shook her head. “You fell off a cliff and you’re scared of me?”

“Hel , yes.”

She stood up and headed toward him, and he stumbled back a step, smacking right into the door.

Spencer winced.

Annie cackled.

“Careful,” Emma said, still coming at him. “Your ribs.” She reached her hand into her bag.

Oh, Christ. He pictured another needle and felt his skin go clammy. His stomach went queasy. This wasn’t working for him, not one little bit. Not unless she was going to strip down for him again. “I don’t need—”

Still looking at him, she pulled out…a prescription bottle. “Are you afraid of pills, too?”

she asked innocently, when he was beginning to suspect there was nothing innocent about her at all.

Annie snickered again.

“I swear to God,” he muttered in her direction.

Emma lightly smacked the bottle against his pecs, a fact he found interesting—was it his imagination, or did she touch him a lot?

More importantly, did she do it on purpose? It was worth finding out, and testing, he leaned into her, just a little.

Her pupils dilated.

Check.

Her nostrils flared.

Check, check.

If they’d been wild animals, their foreplay had just been conducted. Still testing, he lifted his hand and covered hers, still against his chest.

She stared down at their now entangled fingers around the pill bottle, then lifted her gaze to his. Her breathing had changed.

Quickened.

Test over, he decided, his own breathing changing as well. Because oh hell yeah, she was aware of him, every bit as much as he.

Which meant she was all bark and no bite.

That was very good to know.

The saga continues in Beth Williamson’s

THE REDEMPTION OF MICAH,

out now from Brava…

T wo hours later, Micah sat in the parlor and listened to the sounds from the bathing room upstairs. Miracle was singing at the top of her lungs while Candice hummed along.

There was splashing, giggles and fun going on, yet he didn’t join them. He couldn’t.

He ran his hands down his face and looked around at the opulent furniture left behind when Madeline moved to Denver. The room reminded him of his mother’s house and how they’d lived their lives in oblivious ignorance. Taking whatever they wanted without ever giving back.

Perhaps having Eppie but losing her inch by inch was his penance for such a childhood.

Or perhaps it was punishment for his other multitudinous sins. No matter, it was his life and he’d come to accept it, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Miracle was everything sweet and good in his life, and he treasured her beyond words. Just thinking about her soft hugs made his throat tighten.

God, he loved that little girl more than life.

With a sigh, he stood and headed toward the stairs. Each night he sat with Miracle as she visited her Mama before bed. Her childish voice would detail every second of her day to an unresponsive Eppie. One day perhaps, it would be more than a one-sided conversation.

Micah knew exactly how many breaths she took each hour. He watched the rise and fal of her chest, waiting and hoping. The hell of it was, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. Micah wasn’t ready to let her go but seeing her trapped between two worlds was killing him. He missed her, he loved her and dammit all, he wanted to see her open her eyes again.

It had been a true blue miracle the baby survived the trauma to its mother’s body, even more amazing was that the child was born healthy and perfect. When she was pregnant, watching Eppie had become a habit because he could watch his child. Their child. The baby made from a love that shouldn’t be, but was. Miracle had been active, sometimes for hours at a time. During that six month period, Micah never got tired of sitting by Eppie’s bedside and watching, placing his hand on her belly, telling them both he loved them.

Micah wanted so many things, but the two that burned down deep in his gut was the fact he wanted to convince Eppie to marry him and he wanted to tell her he loved her.

He’d been hesitant of revealing his feelings before, afraid of being rejected, of losing what he could have.

Regret was something he knew wel , ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner each day. It brought him nothing but misery yet it was still his constant companion.

He entered Eppie’s bedroom and was immediately awash in her scent, that unique smell that always made her heart beat faster. A gas lamp burned on the side table, bathing her in a golden glow. Just being in the room with her made him feel better.

She still looked beautiful, even if she’d survived for nearly three years on broth, milk, and water. Micah knew every inch of her body from the adorably crooked little toe to the sweet spot behind her right ear. He ran his fingers down her cocoa colored cheek, the skin as smooth as her daughter’s.

“Hey there, Eppie girl.” He sat down in his usual chair and put her hand in his.

Squeezing the limp fingers, he started talking of Daisy and Miracle’s antics. “That crazy dog actually came back and started digging when I was fixing the damn hole. Miracle wasn’t happy about tying her up but she did it anyway. She’s a good girl.”

“Who’s a good girl?”

Eppie’s voice, long since unheard, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Jesus Christ.” He jumped out of the chair, knocking it backwards a good three feet, along with his stomach. Micah looked down into the eyes of the woman who held his heart. “Eppie?”

She blinked and glanced down at herself, then back at him. “Why am I lying in bed?

Have I been ill?”

“Are you really talking to me, honey?” His heart slammed into his throat as it pounded so hard, even his bones vibrated. “Eppie, oh my God, tell me I’m not dreaming.”

“I’m not sure who you are or why you’re in the bedroom with me, but I’m fairly sure you shouldn’t be cal ing me honey.” Eppie cocked her head and narrowed her gaze. “Who are you?”

And keep an eye out for the latest from

Shannon McKenna, TASTING FEAR,

coming next month from Brava…

“What’s wrong now, Nancy?”

Liam sounded exhausted. Fed up. She didn’t blame him a bit. She was a piece of work.

Her mind raced, to come up with a plausible lie. Letting him see how small she felt would just embarrass them both.

She shook her head. “Nothing,” she whispered.

He let out a sigh, and leaned back, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

Covering his eyes with his hands.

That was when she noticed the condition of his hand. His knuckles were torn and raw, encrusted with blood. God, she hadn’t even given a thought for his injuries, his trauma, his shock. She’d just zoned out, floated in her bubble, leaned on him. As if he were an oak.

But he wasn’t an oak. He was a man. He’d fought like a demon for her, and risked his life, and gotten hurt, and she was so freaked out and self-absorbed, she hadn’t even noticed. She was mortified.

“Liam. Your hand,” she fussed, getting up. “Let me get some disinfectant, and some—”

It’s OK,” he muttered. “Forget about it.”

“Like hell! You’re bleeding!” She bustled around, muttering and scolding to hide her own discomfiture, gathering gauze and cotton balls and antibiotic ointment. He let her fuss, a martyred look on his face. After she’d finished taping his hand, she looked at his battered face and grabbed a handful of his polo. “What about the rest of you?”