DEMONICALLY TEMPTED by Stacey Kennedy

DEMONICALLY TEMPTED by Stacey Kennedy

Frostbite Book Two

Tess Jennings, now a member of the Memphis Police Department, is on her first cold case. The suspected suicide of Lizbeth Knapp ten years ago isn't a theory her family accepts - they believe she was murdered.

But the case is only one of Tess's worries. Ghosts are talking, and word of her abilities rapidly spreads. A dark ghost is terrifying the spirits of Memphis, and she must force the entity to cross over.

Tess doesn't have to do this alone. Not only does she have her ghost-lover, Kipp McGowen, but the department has brought in a medium. Dane Wolfe might answer all her questions, but he also brings a world of trouble. Will Tess finally have all she's ever wanted, or will everything she's vowed to protect be ripped away?

*SERIES DOES NOT CONTAIN STANDALONE STORIES. MUST BE READ IN ORDER. FIRST BOOK IN SERIES IS SUPERNATURALLY KISSED*

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Excerpt:

Copyright © STACEY KENNEDY, 2012

Chapter One

The old farmhouse had seen better days. Not only could it use a coat of paint, but it also needed a dose of love. Dry, brown grass surrounded the home, and the only flowers topped four-foot high weeds.

I glanced next to me at Zach—a cop with the Memphis P.D.—and crinkled my nose. “Someone actually lives here?”

His blue eyes met mine and he ran a hand through his blond, stylish hair and shrugged. “Max said the victim’s sister still resides in the home where the death happened.”

As he lowered his arm, he cringed, and I winced at the memory. Heck, only weeks ago he’d been stabbed and shot in the shoulder.

The man who caused Zach’s injury got it worse—by my very hand, no less—but I was glad Hannah Reid’s murderer hadn’t returned to haunt me.

I might have suffered some serious remorse. That is, if I didn’t believe God wouldn’t punish me because I killed a murderer. Brody would’ve done the same to me if I hadn’t gotten to him first. I tried my best to stick with that theory. It saved me from the lingering guilt I might—and would never admit to—have for taking a life.

Sure, there was an internal investigation through the police department, and I had been questioned until my voice went scratchy. But in the end, the shooting had been declared self-defense, and I was perfectly happy with that. Or so I told myself every day until I finally believed it.

Besides, the cops that I now worked alongside had my back throughout the investigation, and nothing would change that. We’d grown close through the time spent during the Reid case, and even closer in the weeks that followed.

“I’m going to see if Lizbeth is out here somewhere,” Kipp—a ghost, and my lover—said, dragging me from my thoughts.

Yes, our relationship was complicated and it’s insanely sick that I’m in love with a ghost, but I wasn’t about to fight my heart’s desire.

“If you find her, then come tell us, immediately. The less time I have to spend in that house, the better.” Scummy houses and me didn’t mesh well. I like cleanliness and hate spiders.

“He’s going off on his own then?” Zach asked.

As of late, Zach had caught on to our conversations better. Seeing that I was the only lucky one—or not so lucky as I viewed it—who could hear ghosts’ communication was annoying, at best.

Maybe I gave more descriptions in my answers than I normally did, or maybe he’d gotten used to having to fill in the blanks. Whatever it was, I appreciated the ease of our conversations now. The back and forth got on my last nerve.

As Kipp strode away, I stared at his scrumptious ass filling his dark blue jeans. The man might be a ghost, but he was sex packaged into muscular goodness.

One of his eyes was chocolate brown, while the other was crystal blue, and he had untidy brown hair that no matter how messy only made him look more attractive. And he was all mine.

I blinked, pulling myself away from my ogling, and frowned at Zach. “Ready?”

His gaze danced with laughter, yet a smile never appeared. “For someone who accepted a job with the department, you would think you’d hold more excitement.”

“Just because I can officially call myself part of the police department—which is absurd, by the way—doesn’t mean I still don’t have hesitations.”

My gift took a while to adjust to but I knew when to see reason. Helping ghosts that had met a horrible fate wasn’t a bad job. That is, as long as I didn’t run into any more crazy-ass killers who wanted to make me a ghost, too.

Zach approached the house, and I trailed after him, not showing half the confidence he carried in his gait.

I climbed the old steps, slightly worried the wood would break under my weight, but seeing Zach went first and the man was all power, the wooden planks could support my slender frame.

He knocked on the door. And a moment later, it opened to a woman who matched the house. She appeared to be in her fifties, but the dark circles under her eyes and the hunch to her shoulders made her look well worn.

“Ms. Knapp?” Zach asked.

“Yes.” Her voice dripped with despair. “Are you the detectives?”

Zach nodded. “Is it still all right if we come in?”

She widened the door, and moved aside. “Please call me Anna.”

“Thank you, Anna.” Zach entered the home. “We appreciate you taking the time to discuss Lizbeth with us.”

I hesitantly followed and tried my damndest not to let my repulsion in the house show. Not an easy feat.

“Please, will you have a seat?” She waved out to a couch that I wouldn’t sit on even if it had a layer of plastic over top of it.

I held back my desire to gag, and twirled my finger in my brown, shag-cut hair. “I’m okay here, thanks.”

Zach grimaced at me before he took a seat and shed all emotion as he turned to Anna. “We’re aware that this will be difficult for you to discuss, but we need you to remember anything you can from when Lizbeth died.”

“I’m not sure I can tell you anything that…” She peeked up at the ceiling. I followed her gaze seeing dark brown stains, and restrained my shudder. “…Max, was that who I spoke with?”

“That’s right. He’s the sergeant.” Zach smiled softly. “He told us the necessary information, but I’ve learned it’s always best to hear it directly for myself.”

In all actuality, I hadn’t heard all the details except that I was officially on my first cold-case.

“Well,” Anna paused, glancing down at her fingers as she fiddled them. “It started a year before Lizbeth’s death. She began to act differently.”

Zach pulled his pad of paper and pen from his pocket, and flipped the notebook open. “Can you explain that in more detail?”

I clasped my hands in front of me. Just because I was now part of team didn’t mean I would start acting like a cop in any official capacity. Let’s be serious now. I wasn’t really a detective.

Anna continued, “She’d talk to me about an evil presence around her.”

“Evil?” I gasped.

“I know how funny it sounds. At the time, it did to me, too. But looking back, Lizbeth just didn’t seem like herself, and maybe I should’ve listened to her.” Anna crossed her arms and shifted in her seat. “She used to be a very happy young woman. Full of life and spirit, but all of a sudden she seemed so dark.”

I gave my head a shake, trying to make sense out of her nonsense. “Dark how?”

“Depressed.” Anna exhaled. “She never came out of her room, and totally withdrew from life.”

“She was suicidal, then?” Zack asked with a gentle tone.

“I suppose you’d draw that conclusion from what I’m telling you now, but the truth is I never took her to be the type.” She gave a knowing look. “Like I said, she was well adjusted and quite happy.”

“But you just said she was depressed,” I countered.

“Yes, I did, but still, Lizbeth was a fighter. She used to tell me that this evil presence was overtaking her soul, and she tried so hard to fight against it.”

Zach made a face. I made one of my own. We were speaking English, yet gibberish would have made more sense.

Seeing that we were getting nowhere, and I suspected Anna had lost her mind a long time ago, I moved along. “Did her condition get worse?”

“It got so bad, my parents had no idea what to do. You have to remember it was a different time. The medications for depression that exist today didn’t back then.” Tears welled in her eyes, but they cleared just as quick. “My parents took her to a doctor, even admitted her into a hospital, but my mother couldn’t manage to leave her there. She thought love would bring Lizbeth out of her trouble.”

“Clearly, it didn’t.”

“That’s right, it only got worse. Lizbeth started to hurt herself.”

Zach’s eyebrows rose. “You mean, caused injuries to herself?”

“No one ever knew—and Lizbeth never said—how she did it. But she had lacerations all over her back.”

Zach scribbled notes, and then peered at Anna. “Did Lizbeth ever say anything to you about the wounds?”

Those tears now weren’t so easily pushed away. “She was adamant she had never caused them.”

One conclusion came to my mind. “No one believed her, did they?”

“Who else would have done it?” Anna retorted. “At that point, Lizbeth hadn’t left the house in over six months.”

Zach stared at Anna, his gaze probing. I inhaled deeply, understanding the frustration. The dust in the room settled into my nostrils. I rubbed at the tickling in my nose, and considered what she had told us.

It seemed to me Lizbeth had clearly been suicidal. I’d watched television shows were people cut themselves. Maybe this was all that was going on here. Case closed.

Zach scribbled a few more lines of notes then scrutinized Anna. “How did Lizbeth act in the days before she died?”

“Strange.” Anna wiped the tears from her face. “She always had this dark cloud over her, but in the week before her death it became much worse. She’d stopped eating and we had to force liquids down her throat.” Her chin quivered, more tears spilling. “But it was in her eyes where I saw her demise.”

“What did you see?” I whispered, not totally sure I wanted to hear her answer.

“She was already dead.”

Zach coughed. “Pardon?”

“Lizbeth was no longer in her body.” Anna shook her head, sending more tears rushing down her cheeks. “I know that sounds crazy, but that’s the only way I can describe it. She had already left.”

“Where did she go?” I urged.

“I have no idea. All I know is she was gone.”

My assumptions that Anna was off her rocker deepened. One question would solidify if I believed she held any sanity at all. “Why do you stay here…in this house?”

Anna’s eyes swam in sadness. “I’m afraid that Lizbeth is still here, and if I leave she’ll be all alone. I don’t have the money to fix the house. Since her death—times have been hard.”

Wasn’t I a shit? Her answer was clear and concise, and, well…I could understand her reasons. If she were insane, I assumed her purpose for staying here would be, too.

Zach closed his notebook, and placed it into the pocket of his black slacks. “Would you take us outside to the water and discuss what happened the night she died?”

“Of course.” Anna stood from the couch and approached the front door.

Zach gestured toward the hall. I took the hint. Since Kipp hadn’t returned yet, it confirmed he hadn’t found Lizbeth’s ghost. Before we left I needed to check out the house to see if she remained. “Do you mind if I use your washroom?”

“Not at all.” Anna dabbed her tears with a tissue, and then raised her chin. “It’s down the hall—third door on the right.”

“Thank you.” I headed toward the hallway while Zach continued to ask Anna another question as they exited the front door.

The hallway was in a similar condition to the rest of the house, completely in shambles. The flowered wallpaper was peeling off the walls and the color of it resembled something not worth discussing. I wrinkled my nose, catching a whiff of mold, and continued walking.

To my left was an open door to a bedroom. I peeked in and clothes were thrown over the light blue bedspread. Furniture was scarce, but the room seemed lived in. It did appear slightly more taken care of than the rest of the home, which drew the conclusion that this had to be Anna’s bedroom.

I scanned the room and couldn’t see Lizbeth’s ghost, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. She could be hiding. “Lizbeth,” I whispered.

No one responded.

Leaving the room, I carried on down the hall to another bedroom on the right, but as I called out her name again, I received the same response.

The bathroom was to my left and another room lay on the right. The door was closed and I did my best to keep quiet as I opened it. I couldn’t hear Zach or Anna in the house anymore, but I didn’t want to chance it. I pushed the door open and it creaked.

I peered in and my heart skipped a beat. “Creepy.”

The room wasn’t in the same condition as the house. It looked brand new, even the paint on the walls appeared fresh, and Lizbeth’s name was written in wooden letters above the dresser.

Of all the rooms to keep nice, Anna chose this one. I couldn’t decide if that was sweet or freaky.

“Lizbeth,” I whispered again only to be met with silence. I’d never had a ghost hide from me before, usually they were so intrigued by my ability they always approached.

I closed the door, headed for the bathroom, and went straight for the sink. At least the room was clean. Yes, in horrible condition, but the yellow bathtub had been scrubbed recently.

At the sink, I turned on the faucet to wash the icky feeling off my hands. I wanted to get home and have a shower. Being in this house for even a few minutes had left my skin feeling filthy and downright gross.

I waited a moment to let the water warm since the pipes thumped indicating trouble stirred, and just as I placed my hands under the water, a voice startled me. “Why are you in my house?”

I looked over my shoulder and spotted a middle-aged ghost dressed in a double-breasted black coat, white dress shirt, and fitted tanned breeches.

“I beg your pardon,” I snapped. “But I don’t deserve to be glared at—or spoken to in that nasty tone—when I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You can hear me?” His eyes widened. “You can see me?”

“Yes I can.” I returned the glower he not-so-kindly offered me. “Why are you so rude?”

“I-I-I…”

“Classic.” I snorted. “The ghost is beside himself. Isn’t it supposed to be the live person who is shocked when they see a ghost?”

“You’re alive?”

Now he was being just downright mean. I shut off the faucet, and with the water dripping off my fingertips, I turned to face him. “Do I look dead to you?”

He gave me a once over with an expression that left something to be desired. “No, but why are you glowing?”

“Yes, well,” I wiped my damp hands on my skinny jeans, “that’s my ability.”

He examined my gold hue—or so I’d been told that is how it appeared—and by his huge eyes this revelation stunned him. “And this ability is how you can see me?”

I wasn’t in any mood to get into this with him. A change in topic was in order. “Have you seen a young girl around here?”

“No,” he responded without haste.

I nibbled my lip, considering that. “Not ever, or not lately?”

“Never.”

If Lizbeth died in misery, it made no sense that her ghost wasn’t here. Ghosts always lingered and needed help to cross over. Someone who committed suicide wouldn’t be a settled soul. And most of the ghosts I’d met returned to a place that had meant something to them. Considering Lizbeth was young when she died, I had assumed she’d come home. Where else would she have gone?

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“I have no idea.” He paused, thoughtful, then said, “I think it’s been quite some time.”

His response didn’t surprise me. Ghosts never remembered much except what they needed to, to move on. Seeing that this ghost would lead me nowhere, I figured I might as well try and help one ghost today. “Do you want to cross over?”

He scowled. “Are you threatening me?”

“Good God. You’re foul. I’m asking to be nice. I can help you, if you’d like.”

“This is my house. I don’t want to leave. I want you to.”

I grunted. “Trust me, I want the same damn thing.”

He gestured toward the door in what might have seemed like a bow of respect, if his tight features hadn’t thoroughly flipped me off. “Best you see yourself out.”

I had just about enough of his bad attitude. I pointed at him. “You better not go scaring Anna. She’s been through enough.”

“I don’t scare her.” He scoffed. “She’s a lovely woman and I don’t mind her sharing the home with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it, but if I find out you’re frightening her, I will Ghostbuster your ass. Got it, jacko?” I flicked my hair over my shoulder, not waiting for him to respond because frankly, I didn’t give a shit.

I exited the bathroom, heard him grumbling something after me. I really couldn’t blame him, though. If I’d been dead since the eighteen hundreds, from the looks of his clothing, I’d be pissy too.

Once on the front porch, I spotted Zach and Anna. They talked down by a creek that was completely overgrown with weeds, rocks lining the shore.

On my approach, Zach glimpsed at me. I shook my head to indicate I hadn’t found Lizbeth in the house.

He visibly sighed, turning to Anna. “Now that Tess has arrived, would you please tell us what happened?”

I took a moment to scan the area, and listened hard to see if I could hear anything, but only the sound of rushing water and chirping birds filled my ears.

The air around the home smelled so fresh, and thrived with nature, it was a wonderful contrast to the dust and mold inside the house.

Anna drew in a long, deep breath. “It was a spooky evening that night. The fog settled above the water and the full moon provided a lot of light.” Her eyes glazed over, lost in memory. “I heard Lizbeth leave the house, so I went over to my bedroom window.”

I glanced at the house. One lone window faced the creek.

“I saw Lizbeth walking out to the water. She wore just her white nighty, and she was so frail.” Anna rubbed her arms. “She was all skin and bones.”

“She came out here alone?” I asked.

Anna nodded. “I didn’t see anyone with her, at the time. She stood by the water’s edge and was so pretty.”

I had a hard time imagining anyone as pretty in the way Anna had described. But I wasn’t about to bring up that point and merely listened as she went on.

“Lizbeth looked over her shoulder, and I’m still not sure how she knew I was watching her, but she smiled one of the coldest smiles I’d ever seen.” Anna hugged herself. “I’m sure that smile will haunt me forever.”

I gulped, a sudden nervousness wrapped around me and icy fingertips ran up my spine.

“What did she do after that?” Zach asked.

Anna inhaled sharply, clearly pulling herself away from the horrifying memory. “She turned toward the water, walked in, and killed herself.”

Had I heard her right? “Are you saying she drowned herself?”

“I know that’s hard to believe, but the second I saw her walk into the creek, she submerged herself into the water. That’s when I ran out after her.”

“What happened when you reached her?”

“She was floating, head first, and so I pulled her out.” A tear slid along her cheek, and she wiped it away. “I tried to do CPR, but it didn’t matter, she was already gone.”

Silence drifted around us. I welcomed it. This story needed some time to process, and even after a minute or so, I still came up empty.

Anna gazed out at the water, as she cried. I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to be here, staring at this water, and remembering what happened. How did she continue to live in that house?

A nudge on my arm had me glancing over at Zach. He mouthed the words, “Is she here?”

I shook my head.

His brow puckered.

Lizbeth’s lack of appearance seemed unusual even to me, but I hoped Kipp had better luck.

Zach cleared his throat breaking the silence. “After you pulled Lizbeth out of the water, what happened?”

Anna wiped her damp cheeks. “My mother and father came down and chaos erupted. They yelled, wanting to know what happened to her. When I told them, it was no surprise they didn’t believe me.”

She brought up a good point. “Where are you parents now?”

“Both, long dead.”

Insert foot into mouth! “I’m sorry.”

Anna sighed. “It’s for the best. Lizbeth’s death hit both of them very hard. My mother was never the same and my father became an alcoholic.”

Saddest thing I’d ever heard.

“I can’t find her outside.”

I glanced over my shoulder and Kipp approached, lips pressed into a thin line. Seeing that I couldn’t answer him with Anna here, I simply gave a short nod to show I understood his defeat.

“At what point did you see Hector?” Zach asked.

I gasped, unable to hide my shock. “Someone else saw her in the water?”

Zach nodded. “He’d been the main suspect in her death but—”

“My statement ruled him out,” Anna interjected. “He probably would’ve been found guilty of her murder since he’d been the only other person present at the time of her death. But I said it then, and I’ll say it now, he didn’t kill her. I saw Lizbeth walk into the water and drown herself. I couldn’t make up what I saw.”

“Ask her how she can be so sure,” Kipp said to me.

I shook my head, which I tried to hide by shifting my stance. There was no way I would argue with Anna. Kipp hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation and I believed every word she said.

Instead, I pressed on. “Did you know he was there when you first came out of the house?”

“No,” Anna replied. “He showed up out of nowhere. I hadn’t seen him near the house at all and his arrival startled me. But I’ll tell you one thing, his eyes were exactly like Lizbeth’s.”

My heart did that full skip-a-beat thing, indicating whatever she meant by that, scared me shitless. “They were?”

“When Lizbeth smiled at me, Hector did the exact same thing when he approached. To say it was creepy is really putting it mildly, but it was as if I stared at Lizbeth again—or what Lizbeth had turned into.”

The side of my temple hurt. I zeroed in on Zach. “So after they questioned Hector, they released him?”

“That’s right. But he’s now serving time for an unrelated crime he committed a month after Lizbeth’s death.”

I gave Zach and Kipp a knowing look, and they returned it. As much as Anna was sure of what she saw, I suspected she was wrong. A person in a state of shock might not be able to think straight. I surmised that’s exactly what happened.

“I know what y’all are thinking, but I know what I saw,” Anna said, adamantly. “Lizbeth walked into the water and killed herself. Trust me, I’ll never be able to forget it.” Sadness gone. Determination risen. “No matter how much everyone wanted me to retract my statement and pin it on Hector, I wouldn’t send an innocent man to jail for something he didn’t do.”

Innocent, my ass!

Zach inclined his head, as if he agreed with her, but I knew better. “Is there anything else you can tell us, Anna, that could help us?”

“I’m sorry. That’s all I know.”

“Thank you for talking to us.” I smiled, reached out for her hand and squeezed it. “We’ll do what we can to find out what happened to her.”

Anna returned the smile, but on her, it was despaired. “I appreciate y’all working on this case again. I do hope that you’ll discover what truly happened to Lizbeth. If it’s all right, I’d like to go into the house now.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you for your time.” Zach shook Anna’s hand, and then she started toward the house.

“This is by far the weirdest situation I’ve ever been in,” I whispered to Kipp. “I’ve never experienced a missing ghost before.”

“Quite unusual, to say the least,” he grumbled. “Let’s go to the station and fill Max in on what we’ve discovered.” He sighed. “Or not discovered.”

Without hesitation since I was more than happy to leave, I headed to the truck with the boys following. Anna climbed the steps of her porch, and I remembered there was something I needed to tell her. “Anna,” I called.

She turned.

“You have a very grumpy old ghost in your house, but don’t worry, he likes you.”

She didn’t appear nearly as surprised as I’d expected. Maybe she already suspected a ghost lived with her. Maybe not. But my job was done.

Now on to finding a missing ghost… LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE eBOOK

BARELY HUMAN by Trace Riles

BARELY HUMAN by Trace Riles

Now you see her. Now you don't

Recently promoted, Jessie is struggling to get into the groove of things alongside her edgy and more experienced partner.

Lately she’s found it increasingly difficult to hide an ability she can’t control, and doesn’t understand. While investigating the murder of a local teen, she discovers the shocking truth about what she really is. Worse, she suspects the killer that continues to hunt teenage girls is closer to her than she could ever have guessed.

As she delves deeper into a world where demons, vampires, and werewolves not only exist, but are all around us, unlikely friendships blossom as a group of misfits band together to put a stop to a madman’s murderous rampage.

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Chapter One

“Poke her, I dare you.”

“No way! I’m not doing it, you do it.”

“What if she’s dead?”

“Maybe we should take her wallet. If she’s dead she won’t need it anyway.”

“She doesn’t have a wallet. She’s only wearing a t-shirt. Where would it be?”

The fingers of sleep began to loosen their grasp on me. I’d read myself to sleep last night. The last time I’d looked at the clock, it was two, maybe three. I shivered. Must have left the window open. Normally I loved the crisp autumn air, but this was ridiculous.

Off in the distance, a couple of kids were arguing. Their voices had pulled me from my dream. Damn, why did they have to be so loud? They could have been in the same room with me. Excited about going back to school, I guessed. Yawning, I shifted my hips and felt my t-shirt snag on ...Rocks? Crap!

I listened while the boys continued to argue about which one should do the poking. “If either of you poke me, I’ll arrest you both,” I muttered after a moment.

The boys gasped at the sound of my voice. I squinted and looked up at the bright blue sky. Crooking my stiff neck, I checked out the kids, dressed in their new hoodies and jeans. They looked so warm. Lucky brats. I sighed. They get to leave the house dressed all warm and cozy, while I pop out in just any old thing.

“Lady, whatcha doing sleeping in the alley?” the tallest boy asked.

“Where’s your clothes? You trying to get yourself pneumonia?” asked the younger would-be assailant.

The taller boy leaned over and held out his hand to help me up. I waved it away and slowly got to my feet, feeling my joints snap into place. Nothing like a night on the asphalt to make you feel your best. I groaned as my lower back protested its new position.

“My great aunt got pneumonia last year and she nearly died,” the smaller boy offered, obviously feeling the need to enlighten me.

“Shut up, Charlie! No one wants to hear about your stupid aunt. She got pneumonia ’cause she smokes those cheapy cigarettes.”

“Hey!” I snapped at him while brushing bits of gravel from the hem of my t-shirt, “I don’t like the way you’re talking to him. And what’s this business about taking my wallet?” I stared at them with my best tough cop glare.

I tried to swallow, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my pasty mouth. If my breath smelled anything like the inside of my mouth tasted, I felt sorry for these kids. I took a step away.

“L-lady? What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Crap, my contacts.

As an infant I’d been diagnosed with a condition called essential iris atrophy, or ICE Syndrome, a very rare and progressive disorder that causes distorted or misshapen pupils. Not the worst disorder to have, I suppose. However, it did tend to unnerve people, which was why I normally wore contacts. “I had a late night, that’s all,” I lied, flinging my hand to my forehead, pretending to shade my face from the bright morning light. “Stop trying to change the subject. You were about to take my wallet?”

The boys exchanged an uneasy glance. “W-we weren’t really going to take it—right, Sam?” Charlie looked to the taller boy.

“Right. Nope, we would never do that. We were just kiddin’ around to see if, you know, we could get your attention.” Pleased with himself for his quick thinking, he shot the smaller boy a grin.

“Yeah, well...” I paused and scanned the alley. It was, thankfully, just the three of us. I refocused my attention on the boys. “I better not catch you two sneaking around here again. Now get to school!”

The boys dipped their heads, muttered, “Yes, ma’am,” and sidled off, leaving me alone in the alley.

Now I had to figure out how to get up to my apartment without being seen. Explaining to the neighbors why I was outside in my underwear was a task I could live without.

This was the third time this week that I’d flickered while sleeping—at least, that’s what I called it. It had started when I was thirteen.

I’d gotten my first period, and that same night I awoke in the tub, with no recollection of walking there. For the next few years, every once in a while I’d wake up somewhere other than in my bed. My mother chalked it up to sleepwalking until she came into my room to say good night to me, and watched in astonishment as I vanished. One moment I’d been in bed and the next I was gone, no walking involved. I could still hear her, “You just sort of flickered.”

For the most part, it was harmless. I’d wake up in my closet or in the hall just outside my room. But one frosty night in the middle of January, I flickered into the attic. My mother, thinking my dad had driven me to school early, went to work without a second thought. The small access hatch to the loft above the second floor of the house had been latched; trapping me for the entire day in the frigid, dark space. By the time Mom returned home and heard me banging on the hatch, I had frostbite on most of my toes. Luckily, there was no permanent damage. After that, my mother removed the locks from everything—just in case.

Two years ago last month, my mother passed away from an aneurysm. I found myself alone with my secrets, which up until a couple of months ago had been relatively easy to conceal. Easy because I kept to myself and, other than work, very rarely interacted with anyone. But lately, the flickering was becoming more frequent, the distances greater. Until recently, I’d never flickered beyond my own apartment. Last week I’d awakened downstairs in Mr. Murphy’s living room. I narrowly made it out of that one. I still have the scratches from his homely, one-eyed cat to prove it. Monday I’d ended up in the basement laundry room. And today...today I’m outside! In my underwear! I’m so screwed.

I climbed onto the dumpster and jumped up to grab the fire escape then hung, bare legs dangling, as a woman passed the alleyway. She looked up at me, expressionless, and kept going. Maybe climbing the fire escape in your underwear isn’t as unusual as one might think. The taste in my mouth was starting to make me feel seriously sick. What had I eaten last night?

I hauled myself up, then crawled under Mrs. Wang’s window, not up to hearing her lecture about the ticking clock. My clock wasn’t ticking, it was frozen in time. I like kids. Kids are okay. Truthfully, I’d not had much experience interacting with them, and they made me sort of nervous.

Children seemed much more intuitive than most adults. Whenever I was around them, I always felt as if they knew I had a secret. It’s not that I didn’t want children, but how could I, in good conscience, ever have a child without knowing what was wrong with me first? Besides, even if one day that changed, I’d have to find a man. Someone really, really understanding, who wouldn’t have a heart attack when his wife disappeared and reappeared like some freak straight out of a horror movie. Pfft, like that’s going to happen.

I climbed the short length of metal stairs to my kitchen window, and peered through the glass at the latch. I exhaled, relieved to find I had forgotten to lock it. I tried not to acknowledge the withering geranium in the flowerpot I moved off of the sill, but as I set it down on the landing it drooped to one side, sad and neglected.

Guilt surged. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d watered it, and I was pretty sure I should have taken it inside before the nights turned so cool. Like I’d ever be able to take care of a kid. I can’t even keep a plant alive. My chest clenched and I blinked against the prickle of tears. Then I resigned myself to my solitary existence and refocused on the task at hand.

A tacky decorative spike declaring that GARDENERS TEND TO SOIL THEIR PLANTS was the only thing still standing in the flowerpot—a gag gift from last year’s Secret Santa at work. It was stupid, but I’d kept it anyway—I didn’t get many gifts. I yanked it from the pot and forced the spiked end under the window as a lever. With a bit of effort, the pane lifted enough for me to squeeze my fingers in and push it up the rest of the way. A rush of warm air wafted over my chilled cheeks and I inhaled the familiar aroma of my apartment, a mixture of old plaster and Chantilly, my mother’s perfume. Occasionally, when I was feeling really lonesome, I’d spray some around the apartment. It always picked up my spirits.

I climbed awkwardly over the sill, knocking over a stack of my favorite self-help books. They didn’t seem to be helping me, but I couldn’t stop buying them. Maybe I could find a book to help me beat my book-buying addiction. I scooped them up, dumped them in a heap on the small kitchen table, and shut the window. A quick glance at the wall clock made me curse under my breath. It was going to be close. I started toward the bedroom but paused in mid-step and turned back to the window. I opened it a crack—just in case.

A long hot shower took the chill out of my bones and I was good to go. I left my apartment and entered the stairwell when my cell rang.

“Jess, where the hell are you? I’m your partner, not your mother, you know,” Ray chewed loudly on the other end of the line, completely devoid of any recognizable manners.

“I’m out the door. In the car, even. I’m practically there.” I jumped the last four steps to the lobby.

“Get a move on, will ya? Sarge’ll be handing out cases in twenty minutes and I don’t want to get stuck on bum clean-up again.”

I laughed. Ray was crude, and she never ceased to shock me. “Bums are people too, Ray.”

“Yeah, smelly people.” Without warning the line went dead. Typical Ray, no time for the usual niceties of civilized society.

I snapped my phone shut, stuffing it into my jacket pocket as I hurried out to the street where my Jeep was parked. I caught a break yesterday and garnered a space almost in front of my building. The driver’s side door screeched in protest as I yanked it open. The smell of moldy oranges smacked me square in the face.

Last week I’d picked up a fruit smoothie for Ray on my way into work, and had to stop a little too suddenly when some crazy woman cut me off. That had been the end of Ray’s fruit smoothie, and the beginning of the entity known as the Citrus Stinker. The juice and cream that soaked into my carpets had soured in the heat from the fall sun. I really had to take it in for a cleaning.

It was old and tired and I loved it—it had belonged to my dad. I knew it looked like it belonged in a junkyard, but I thought the wear and tear gave it character. I was usually the only one who thought so.

I’m on a parking streak, I thought as I slipped into a slot just vacated by an Explorer in front of Manny’s Deli. The prime spot meant Ray would be getting a full side view of my car, and I didn’t want to hear about it; my morning was already stressful enough. The familiar jingle from the bells hung on the deli door smoothed away some of my tension, though. My first steady partner—in or out of work, for that matter—was waiting inside. I had recently made detective and been assigned to work with Ray. Since I lived such a solitary life, I was really beginning to enjoy the closeness generated by spending large quantities of time with the same person.

“Gawd, can’t you even use a freakin’ alarm clock?” Ray blurted around a mouthful of bacon. She waved her empty coffee mug at the young waitress, making an obvious show of her impatience. The girl rolled her eyes on the way over. Ray was almost ten years my senior, but the way she acted you’d think it was closer to twenty—most of the time she was downright crotchety. She had made it abundantly clear to any cop who’d listen that she wasn’t too happy about being stuck with a greenhorn like me.

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IMPULSE CONTROL by Sara Brookes

Book One of the Sypricon Masters

Planetary Deputy Chief Marshal Selene Orasova is looking for a reminder pleasure still exists in the universe. Fresh off her latest case, she heads to Tawse, a BDSM club on the planet Sypricon. However, upon her arrival she finds the club almost empty as nearly all the staff has been hired out of for the night. Disappointed, she starts to leave, only to walk face first into a wall of muscle.

Vaughn, one of the few Doms at the club Selene hasn't been under the command of, is immediately intrigued by the hard-edged cop. A few instructions and she is easily under his guidance. However, Vaughn quickly discovers Selene has a problem relinquishing total control. She likes to top from the bottom and that isn't something Vaughn will stand for. Determined to correct her, Vaughn pushes her limits with a little impulse control.

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~Excerpt~

Vaughn stepped off the platform and tried to hide a wince as his erection scraped against his pants. He hadn’t expected to get this hard this quickly, but when Bales indicated Selene wanted a Dom for the night—and hinted around at the fact it was him specifically—her interest propelled him to discover more.

“Bales, hand me some hydrator.”

“Finished already?”

“Not even close.” He’d barely warmed up and had already hit a few walls in that time. She intrigued him and made him want to push her more. “She’s so caught up in five seconds ago she can’t concentrate on the now.”

“Explains why you’re over here then.”

“That, and it’s a damn stunning view.” He leaned against the bar as he cracked the seal on the container of ishke the club used to keep its members hydrated to proper levels. As he sipped, he took note of the way she sat, the pace of her breaths as she waited. He looked for tells to signal her level of nervousness. Things he would need to know as the night wore on.

She wore her blonde hair pulled back into a severe tail. It added harsh angles to her face, did nothing to soften the hard line of muscles in her arms. Her sharp brown eyes stared straight ahead, her expression completely blank. She appeared to be tougher than the type of sub he usually chose, but he would enjoy the challenge. There was softness under all those layers of cop.

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