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​“Bed. Settee. Floor. I don’t care as long as you’re inside me.”

Henry chuckled, deep and rich. He lifted my leg and placed the heel on my foot then did the same to the other. “Walk to the bed, Cin. I want to see your dick bounce and those heels shine in the sunlight.”

I shivered before I stood. Naked but for the heels, I took my time walking across the room. Each step was deliberate and slow. When I got to the bed I turned around and saw Henry stood before the dying fire stroking his shaft.

“You are so sexy.”

I’d never been called that before. It made me blush.

“Bend over the bed.”

I turned around and stuck my ass in the air. The blankets were soft to the touch as I laid my forearms upon it. “Like this?”

“Mmmm.” Henry moved closer.

 I only knew because of the creak in the floor. Then he was behind me. His hands on my ass, spreading me.

“There is just so much I want to do to you.” He growled as he slid a finger over my back hole. “So many positions. So many ways I want to hear you come.” He caressed my balls before moving to the small stand beside the bed. He pulled out a vial of clear liquid and another heeled shoe. This once was a beige shoe with golden trim and, was that a golden heel? It shone in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Henry walked back toward me. His cock hard as stone and bouncing with each step.

Anticipation of that gorgeous length inside me made a shiver run down my spine.

Henry was behind me.

I heard the pop of the vial being opened. A liquid dribbled down my crack and soon followed by Henry’s finger. He pressed the digit against my hole and I laid my head against the bed. He breached. My dick leaked a few drops of cum as his finger slipped inside me, aided by the clear liquid.

“You’re so tight.” Henry remarked as his finger slid out and in again.

“Been a while.” Too long. I groaned. He kept going in and out, so slowly that my toes curled in the heels I wore. “Henry.”

He pierced me with two fingers and dragged the golden heel along my balls.

I shivered and flinched and moaned. My whole body was on the edge of imploding and he teased me!
​
Henry eased his fingers out. The heel traveled along the back of my thighs, across my balls and the cool tip waited patiently at my entrance. “Open for your prince.” He slid the tip inside.

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​Once I’m out, I have to dodge the angels without raising anyone's suspicions including the boy next door that has some secrets of his own. Dylan soon learns I’m not as normal as I pretend to be, but will he tell? Crazy or not, I can’t go back to the isolation ward. I’m thrust into a world I didn’t know existed. A world with angels and monsters … and they’re all coming for me. 
There’s a war coming and it’s time to pick sides.

I said from between my fingers. “I sleep in the closest because I’m afraid I’ll see the angels when I wake up and scream. If my aunt finds out she’ll send me back to that place.” Wet, slow tears dripped down my cheeks. “I can’t go back there. I can’t. The straitjacket. The screaming. The bars. I can’t.” A shiver spread through my whole body. “I did like you said. I went into the treehouse last night. I yelled at them and … and…” I stared into Dylan’s brown eyes. “One of them looked down at me.” I covered my face with my hands. My confession would damn me. “I’m crazy.”

Dylan wrapped his arms around me. “It’ll be okay.”

His musky scent made me want to bury my nose in his shirt and never come up. “How? How!” I laid my head on his shoulder and felt the overwhelming urge to scream.

“Tevy. I’m not going to say anything. I can help … holy shi—”

“What?” I picked up head and jerked. There was one of them, the angels, right there. He stood in front of us with huge, black shimmering wings and some kind of metal armor on. “You … you see that?”

“I see that.”

“You really see that?”

“I really see that.”

I’m not crazy! Wait, I’m not crazy? Then the angel drew out his sword and smiled.

“Saw that too.” Dylan let go of me and jammed his Jeep into reverse.

I grabbed his leg, holding in a scream as we spun around and then charged forward. He saw my angel! What the hell did that mean? “It’s following us!” I could see it in the rearview mirror, the wings shimmering in the sun as it flew behind us. I grabbed the dashboard with both hands as we took a corner too fast.

“Where’d it go?” he yelled, still driving down the lonely stretch of road.

“Behind us!” I screamed as it slashed its sword at the back window. The blade missed and suddenly there were more glints. More angels. “Oh, my God.” I counted ten with glittering rainbow wings as we swerved to the right and down some no-name, one-lane road. We bounced around wildly before coming to the end where it met a suburban street, quiet in the early morning hours. “They’re gone.” I spun in my seat to stare back. I didn’t see anything now. “How did you see them? Why did you see them now of all times?” My eyes went wide and I stared down at my hands. “Touch.” I’d been touching Dylan when he saw them. When I let go of him, that was when he asked me where they were. Could it be that simple? How did any of this make any freaking sense? “Dylan.” I turned to him. “They’re real. They are real. I’m not crazy.” Sort of.

Dylan sat in the driver’s seat, breathing fast. His chest rose and fell so quickly I thought maybe he was hyperventilating or something. “Dylan?”

He grabbed the steering wheel and kept gasping.

“Deep breaths. Deep breaths.” I place a hand on his back. He was hyperventilating. “Listen to my voice. Calm. Down.” I pressed my other hand on his chest. “There you go. Easy.” He was freaking out worse than I was. Of course, I’d seen them before. I tried to remember what I did when I first saw them. Oh, right, ran screaming. “You okay now?”

He shook his head but let go of the steering wheel to face me.

“They’re gone.”

He took a shaky breath and then another. Dylan leaned forward, surprising me by pressing his forehead to mine.

“Keep breathing,” I whispered. “We’re safe.”

“Sorry.” He kept staring into my eyes. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

I knew that feeling. “Okay now?”

“I saw an angel. An angry angel. An angry angel with a sword.”
​
“Welcome to my world.” ​

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​Reeling from the shock of Bolt’s sudden disappearance, Venus travels to Radiance in search of him…and finds evil at its most depraved lying in wait.

​“Your magic doesn’t work on him, no help’s available, and he makes himself invisible whenever he wants?” Venus counted off each problem on the tips of her fingers.

“Yes, and before you charged ahead with your summary, I wanted to say, the Vessel I spoke of last night can help us.”

“Then we must find it because we can’t have him unleashing unmentionable horrors on innocent people.” Venus rubbed her neck where Zaru bruised it. “He’s crazy.”

Bolt acknowledged her words with a nod. “I get it. You would feel responsible if he harms other humans because he’s here after you.” He rested his right palm over her bruises.

“I suppose I would,” Venus murmured.

“You can’t blame yourself for this. Zaru created this state of affairs, not you.”

“I know. But he’s a danger and we must stop him.” Venus stood up fast, broke contact with Bolt, and caught one heel in the hem of her pajamas. “But before we go on a Mirror-Vessel quest let’s fuel-up with breakfast.”

Bolt watched the retreat of Venus’ pear-shaped bottom, enjoying the view. He wanted her molded against his bare skin, her breath against his neck, and the scent of her hair filling his senses. He squeezed his eyes together while hot need swamped his body, forcing deep breaths from him. Venus’ undeniable beauty attracted him, and when he saw Zaru’s filthy hands on her, he experienced a strong primitive urge to protect her―and destroy the enemy.
Hunger channeled Bolt’s thoughts away from wrath when the delicious aroma of fried bacon hit him. His stomach growled. He followed his nose past her bedroom, and along a narrow corridor lit from the ceiling. Around a bend the passage widened, and housed a powder room signposted with a plaque of little boy peeing, then further extended into a square white kitchen. Its surfaces gleamed. A bunch of daffodils rested on a windowsill, bright against the cheerless backdrop of gloom on the other side of the window.

“Good timing,” Venus said to him. “Breakfast is ready.”
​
She stood behind a black counter heaping eggs and bacon into plates. Venus looked adorable wearing a pink apron, and Bolt almost leapt over the worktop and embraced her. Their eyes met. His gaze traced across her face and lingered on her mouth. Bolt plucked a shiny red apple from a fruit bowl and bit into it, wishing it was Venus’ delectable bottom lip.

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​everything about her work, including secretly researching clinical lycanthropy just for the fun of it. It’s what nerds do. Brandy stays busy, but in the lonely hours of the night, she can’t deny something is missing. If only she could find that soul mate people are always mentioning. As if one perfect match for her really exists.

When a pained howl echoes from the dark forest beyond the sanctuary fence, Brandy meets a wolf unlike any to cross her path. Why does she grow instantly connected to him? Why does he become so important to her?

She’ll only get answers if she accepts a wolf kiss.

​She’d only been in his presence less than fifteen minutes, but she felt… connected to him, as if she knew him already. He was handsome as hell and probably used to women falling immediately under his spell. Brandy figured his eyes alone had enough power to rein in the most reluctant women. Combine those eyes with that body and his life-saving skills and he started looking very much like The Perfect Man.

If there was such a thing.

Brandy hadn’t believed there was, but Reardon—whose last name she didn’t even know—appeared extremely close to perfect.

“Be careful,” she warned herself as she pulled the brownies out of the oven and put them on the stovetop to cool. No need to be stupid about this whole thing. She’d serve him dinner, and if he was open to more, she’d give it to him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It was just sex.

She whirled around at the sound of Parker’s voice, ready to greet her friend, but her gaze immediately landed on Reardon standing so beautifully tall behind him instead. He filled her small kitchen with his broad shoulders and long legs, and Brandy was certain someone had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. She actually felt dizzy. He looked amazing in another pair of blue jeans and a black, Henley-style T-shirt that fit snuggly around his biceps.

“Good evening, lass.” The deep timbre of his voice caressed her from the inside and she nearly melted at his feet.

“Reardon.” She liked saying his name. “Nice to see you again.”

“Aye, likewise.” He held out a bottle of wine so she had to step closer to take it.

As her hand closed around the neck, Reardon put his free hand over hers. It was solid and rough and warm. God, she hoped he wanted to touch her later tonight. She might weep if he didn’t.

“You’re okay, aye?” He didn’t release his hold on her. Not that she wanted him to. In fact, she had an indescribable urge to snuggle into his arms and stay there. For like a long time.

Or forever. Either way.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks to you.” She looked at his hand that was still bandaged around the knuckles. “And are you okay?”
​
“Aye, fine.” He let her hand go and gave her a shrug as if it were no big deal he’d leaped into harm’s way to save her and Dylan. 

It was a big deal. A very big deal.

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Mike and Liz had survived the first round, and they’d remained hopeful the specters would settle down. But there was enough unfinished business for any cosmic disturbance to rile them up again. This storm watch was more than just a minor blip on the radar—or a coincidence.

Noisy seagulls hunted as the storm with enough power to blow them to Rhode Island threatened. Mike rolled his shoulders, flexing the stiff muscles in his back, trying to imagine he could shed his wife and his son to escape the gaping jaws of Captain Edward Barrett’s legacy. Normally a lingering vague threat, it rubbed him raw at moments like this when he had nothing to do but wait for the bay to come in around him so he could go out and make a living.

He rinsed his hands in a tide pool. The shadow sent hermit crabs scurrying. Brine stung his knuckles but stopped the oozing with that invisible layer of stickiness every saltwater fisherman learns to love. An incoming tide rolled across the flats as the storm clouds amassed.

The boat teeter-tottered on its keel as Mike climbed aboard and settled into a seat. Reassured by the glimmering water rippling in to release him from bondage, he readied his fishing gear. Chants of “ohmmmmm” from morning beach yoga carried in the breeze. At least that was connection with living spirits, as opposed to the dead, stale vestiges of lives ended too soon who were unable to give up and let go.

 A woman out for an early morning walk grew larger and larger. Her broad brimmed hat dipped so low over her eyes he couldn’t see her face, though her skinny legs, matchstick arms, and pigeon chest were unmistakable once she’d emerged from the glare. That, the jangling earrings, and the purple and pink broomstick skirt hitched up and secured with a silver belt.
“Good morning, Mike.” Always oppositional, Sandra was headed out when everyone was on their way back.

“Where’re you going, Sandra? Tide’s coming in.”

She flipped up the floppy brim and grinned. “I’m headed over to check on Harley.”

The Whaler rocked in the surf. “Should be ready to roll in about twenty minutes. I’ll give you a ride over.”

Sandra didn’t break stride. “That’s okay. I’ll be sitting on the beach with the old buzzard before you even pull up anchor.”

They were both oddballs: He, wearing a Red Sox cap, a scruffy beard, a black tee shirt showing a bit of belly, while sitting like a bum in a beached boat. Sandra, like an escapee from a Harry Potter novel, headed over to check on a ninety-six-year-old hermit who lived on a dune that was cut off from the mainland at high tide.​

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“Well, well, what do we have here? A hero in the making?” He raises his long nose and does a long inhale, his eyes narrowing in on me. “Actually, what we have is something extra special, everyone. I haven’t smelled that reckless scent for hundreds of years.”

Jade bucks in his arm, and I take a step closer.

“Stay there…” His eyes drop to the badge clipped on my jeans waistband. “Officer.”

“Let her go.”

He inhales her hair and my fangs start to rock in my mouth, wanting to descend.

“Your daddy was a very bad man, wasn’t he? But I bet your momma was really good. Like this little lady. She’ll taste mighty fine.”

I hear chuckling behind me, but my vision tunnels in on Jade. Her eyes the color of her name, and I can’t see anything but how her chest gasps for air. I force myself to return to the man holding her. Every molecule of my body prickles almost painfully. He has something that is mine and my body twitches to let him know that fact.

I know what he is because I’m half of his kind.

Someone behind me lets out a long hiss. “Don’t do it, Caine. Luther’s not here, he’ll be pissed.”

The man widens his mouth with a broad smile and the light sparkles off of the white extensions lowering from his upper teeth, fangs dropping like long razor blades.

My senses count five people in the dim-lit room and I hear another two sets of steps on the stairs coming down from the second floor. Seven people isn’t undoable. I mean, I’ve never done it, but I’m thinking right now I’d do anything to make sure this woman is safe.

My heart beats her name. Jade. Jade. Jade. Faster and faster until I feel like a nuclear reactor is on red-alert warning inside of my body.

Her face turns red as she beats on his arm, but in the next second, her eyes roll back in her head, and her body goes lifeless.

His mouth lowers to her neck.

That’s not happening.

He snarls a grin. “I know this one’s gonna be tasty, ladies and gents. Virgin blood straight from the spigot is the best.”

I fire my gun and I watch as she crumples in slow motion toward the floor. At the last second, I scoop her into my arms, kicking my way through the front door, and I’m back at the car in the next.

Maybe this is my chance…

To find my soulmate and end my curse.

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​They were met with nothing. Not one damn person. Whoever had run into this house seemed to have just disappeared into thin air. Cursing, Bari dropped his guard, lowered his weapon, and paced the room. His mind scrambled over the reports they’d studied, trying to recall every detail and feeling as if he had forgotten something. All eyes of the team were on him, waiting for a decision.

With a frustrated growl, he ripped open the front of his vest and breathed deep, letting air fill his tight chest. A bunker was supposed to be here, somewhere, but they had seen no evidence of it. It was like they’d been set up to clear an empty house. None of it made a damn lick of sense.

“Shit, we should have found something here. Where in the fuck did they go?” His team answered with silence. Shaking his head, he pushed his helmet off and scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Mike pulled a piece of gum from his pocket, unwrapped and shoved it in his mouth. The sound of his chewing snapped through the room. “Yeah, Bari, this looks like a dead-end. Doesn’t make any sense.”

Grabbing his pack of smokes from his own pocket, Bari popped a cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

Needing to get some answers, Bari stepped around Tony. Adrenaline still rushed inside of him, his skin itchy with unused energy. He moved back down the hall and into the living area.

He glanced up. And time froze.
​
 He would later tell himself he could have been faster, or ducked down. But Mike, a father with a six-year-old daughter back home, had followed behind him. So he didn’t move. Instead, he froze as the gunman stepped out from behind a door. Mike must have missed it. Fear stole up the back of his neck, the sensation reminiscent of a winding serpent. The gunman lifted his rifle. Low shouts rang out around Bari. Seconds ticked by like molasses dripping. Bari closed his eyes and braced for the pain, understanding he might not make it out alive. A shot rang out, the sound echoing through the walls. Pain exploded in his chest, his body. The cigarette he lit earlier dropped from his mouth, fell to the floor. He raised his eyes, meeting the gunman’s stare from across the room. Death sat in the man’s blank gaze, reflecting darkness, emptiness. 

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​Asher’s unusual gift for eerily horrific sound effects make him a highly sought-after voiceover artist. While he keeps a low profile, there has always been a ticking time bomb in the form of the bargain between his banshee mother and his father, the god Ares. It’s time to pay up—or pay with his life.

As Euryale and Asher dance around their mutual mistrust, the friction ignites a fire of unexpected attraction. But love is almost as impossible as the dangerous task ahead. Because even if the murderers don’t stab them in the back, the fickle gods certainly will.

​Asher’s broad shoulders twitched against the trendy form-fitting shirt he was wearing. The ripple of his muscles was evident under the cloth, and something flipped inside her belly. It had been a long time since she had been driven by anything other than bestial desires. If she were in her other form, she would have sniffed the air to inspect if he was feeling the same heat she was. But she was no longer a beast.

Except she was. It had taken them decades to stop thinking of themselves as immortal goddesses, and it would also be the reverse. It had been so long since someone considered her with longing—and for her to feel that same pulse within her—Euryale wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“How much do you grasp of how things work today?”

She scoffed at him. “I’m a monster, but I’m not living in a cave. That’s for legends. I made my home in Casper, Wyoming after all. I can function—I have a glamour that allows me to move in human circles. I keep to myself and don’t socialize, but I get by. I can assure you I act appropriately in polite company. I’m not going to turn around and eat them. Although,” she grinned and allowed her shields to slip, “mortals can be tasty.”

The image she projected of eating a man who had mistaken her human form for a weak one was designed to shock. To Asher’s credit, he displayed no emotion.

“Good. That will make this easier.” Euryale was disappointed. He took her for who she was now and not a monster, something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Our cover is that I met you when I vacationed here last, and we fell in love. It’s been a long-distance relationship. You’re moving to Los Angeles to live with me. To answer your question, I think the reason that the gods asked for our help is because we can find out things a god could not. We’re both creatures whose weapons are sound, and it may come in handy in battle.”

Euryale met his gaze and tried to probe his mind but found that his shields were good. Almost, but not quite as good as hers.
​
“Asher, that’s nonsense. The real reason they came to us is that we are expendable.”
He nodded. “That too.”

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