Showing posts with label Sara Brookes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sara Brookes. Show all posts

Saturday, August 11, 2012

LETHAL BEAUTY by Sara Brookes

LETHAL BEAUTY by Sara Brookes

As a covert operative in Elatia’s elite military, Sway Waybourne is used to fending for herself. But a powerful uprising means she’s now responsible for guarding the leader of a neighboring planet.

Within seconds of meeting Dason Cavaletti, sparks fly and Sway realizes she’s gotten more than she bargained for.

Dason is curious about the arousal taking over his mind, body, and soul. When he can no longer stand the overwhelming desire, he confronts Sway. But the disturbing news she delivers isn’t at all what he expected.
Mating with the gorgeous woman could kill him….

WARNING: Sarcasm galore from a fiery heroine who can take care of herself thank-you-very-much. She won’t take anyone’s guff—even from the leader of the free universe no matter how handsome he is. A unique genetic quirk leads to inventive foreplay, one blazing hot hands-on session in the bathtub and a gender bending encounter that signals this ain’t your father’s Star Trek.
No redshirts were harmed while writing this novel.

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~Excerpt~

“This is…quite the situation.”

She blew out a breath as she slumped onto the far side of the mattress. “You can say that again.”

Sensing her frustration—which matched his own—he reached over and clamped his hand around her ankle. She didn’t fight as he dragged her across the bed and into his arms. “It’s not as if it’s the end of the world.”

“No. It’s just…I’m used to being able to handle any situation.”

“And you don’t know how to handle this.”

“Not really.”

“I’m sure we can come up with ideas. In fact, I’m thinking of one right now.”

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Way I understand, it’s the other way around.” Her laughter rang out in the room, shattering the tension. He pulled her closer, content and sated for the moment. “You’re a remarkable woman. Strong, determined, not to mention sexy as sin.”

She squirmed against him and he took it as a signal she wasn’t used to hearing such things said about her. Her reaction made him decide to shower her with attention while they were trapped together.

He was both amused and terrified by her reactions. Her extraordinary skill set was evident and he found her tenacity admirable. She possessed a vulnerability, though she clearly did her best to hide that aspect of her personality. By his guess, she thought it would show a weakness if she let others know about any flaw in her perfection. A good covert operative couldn't have any visible flaws. Otherwise, they weren’t very good at their job.

By the looks of things so far, she was very, very good at her job.

And for reasons he didn’t completely understand, he had begun to fall in love with her.


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Saturday, May 5, 2012

CHASING SIN by Sara Brookes

CHASING SIN by Sara Brookes
 

Every spring, Kate risks her life chasing violent storms. Tired of watching her take unnecessary chances, two of her closest friends offer a different thrill. Devoted lovers Snyder and Tripp don't just share a passion for nature's fury; they long to have the fearless woman between them.

Though she is reluctant, she also knows the proposition is too irresistible to refuse. Her acceptance leads to an explosive night of no-holes-barred sex for the threesome. However, when morning dawns, she realizes this type of unusual relationship isn't one she belongs in.

Despite her best efforts to keep the men at arm's length, Kate finds herself facing down the storm of the century with them at her side. When Mother Nature intrudes, the trio discovers shelter in each other's arms. With the hurricane raging outside and passion raging inside, everything is at stake.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.
An Excerpt From: CHASING SIN
Copyright © SARA BROOKES, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One

“She’s fucking insane.”

Snyder slammed on the brakes and narrowly missed Kate’s Jeep when she swerved in front of him. “Give me directions instead of commentary, Tripp. You pay attention to the tornado and I’ll pay attention to crazy drivers.”

He gunned the engine of his truck as he watched the offending vehicle speed down the dirt road dividing a freshly plowed field. “Where the hell is she going?” he muttered, more to himself than his partner in the passenger seat.

The ominous supercell had dropped a howling twister a few miles back. Now the race was on to catch it. Tripp’s fingers tapped on the screen of the tablet he was using for a GPS. “Take this road here and keep following it. Should put us a few miles ahead of this cell.”

“Got it. What kind of action are you seeing?”

The keys of the laptop mounted to the dashboard clacked as Tripp’s fingers flew over them and he snorted. “Straight and steady, for the moment. Kate must know something we don’t.”

Snyder gritted his teeth as he flipped on the blinker and sped past a slower-moving car. “Not my problem right now. Besides, she isn’t exactly behaving any differently than normal.”

Their colleague Kate Sinclair was a risk taker and an adrenaline junkie—a definite plus considering the reason they drove thousands of miles in one day. Craziness was always beneficial when chasing violent storms that were capable of leveling entire towns. Snyder hated to admit it, but Kate’s brash actions always got the team what they
needed. The data they collected was vital and necessary to increase warning times.

“Just get me where I need to be so we can intercept this thing and get out of here before things really get nasty.”

“Take a right. Pick up the road at the end and follow it out.”

The abrupt change of direction worried Snyder. “Is it shifting?”

“A bit, yeah. This should compensate and keep us in the path. Shit.”

Been waiting for that. Out of the corner of his eye, Snyder saw Tripp Dawson drum his fingers against the seat while he studied the netbook in his lap. That kind of contemplation was not a good sign when they were chasing a vortex generating winds over one hundred miles an hour. “What now?”

Tripp muttered something under his breath and Snyder cleared his throat to get his attention. “Shifting again. There doesn’t seem to be any kind of clear path that I can make out. She went from straight as an arrow to as crooked as the mountains back home. It’s almost impossible to track like this—look out!”

Prepared this time, Snyder let off the accelerator and tapped the brakes. To his left, Kate’s white Jeep sped through a stop sign. If he hadn’t stopped before the intersection, she would have slammed into the side of his truck.

Fucking insane is putting it lightly.

Well past annoyed now, he immediately jerked the wheel to the right and slammed the accelerator to the floor. Tripp fumbled for the handle over the window as the truck hit a few cavernous potholes that sent expensive equipment flying. Snyder would replace anything he broke with his own money when this chase was over. For the moment, broken equipment was the least of his worries.

Knowing she wouldn’t bother to answer her cell phone, Snyder thumbed the receiver on his radio with one hand and hollered into the handset. “Kate, get your head out of your ass. You’re going to get one of us killed if you keep driving like this.”

The vehicle in front of them took a hard left without signaling or stepping on the brakes. Caught unaware, Snyder flew past the turn, unable to stop with his heavier vehicle.

“Fuck me. SKYWARN spotters report it’s increasing in size and strength again. Just took out the entire power grid.”

The laptop they used for their storm lab broke free from its clips and hit the windshield as Snyder slammed on the brakes and threw the gearshift into reverse. Tripp scrambled to collect everything before it went flying.

On the right path, Snyder used the radio once more. “Kate, this thing is bigger than they’re expecting and growing by the second. It’s too damn dangerous. Call off the chase now. It’s not worth the risk.”

When radio silence met him, he tossed the receiver to the dashboard and gripped the steering wheel. This time, when Kate made a sharp turn, he was ready for it and took it with her.

“We’re not chasing the funnel anymore, are we?” Snyder kept his focus on the road ahead and ignored Tripp’s question. He pushed the truck more than he would have normally because the tornado was the least of his worries. The last thing he wanted to do was scrape Kate off the side of some dirt back road in the middle of Kansas.

Kate suddenly braked, coming to a complete stop in the center of the road. Her door flew open and she jumped out, camera in hand.

Ignoring the truck as they approached, she immediately went to the other side of the Jeep, using the front quarter panel to brace her body against the wind.

Snyder stopped the truck a few yards away and narrowed his gaze as he kept an eye on his colleague, who’d willingly put herself in danger.

“What does Doppler say?”

“Radar is showing it’s losing some energy, but still staying on this heading.”

Which mean it would pass close by, but not enough to put them in any kind of serious danger. Snyder leaned forward and adjusted the video camera mounted on the dash as he studied the dark clouds.

The radio crackled and Tripp made a grab for it. “Blaney? We got one.”

“We lost you guys back near the airport. Where the hell are you?”

“We’re out on 9 near Jewell.” Tripp shook his head and rolled his eyes at Snyder with all the hoots and hollers that came across the radio. The group was an assortment of students from Kate’s forecasting classes at the University of Oklahoma. Most of them were just as crazy as the woman in front of them.

“Caught it, didn’t you? We’ll monitor things from here. Charley is getting some good video.”

So is someone else. Snyder continued to watch as Kate snapped picture after picture of the storm and wondered what had driven her to take this track. He would have never guessed the storm would be here right at this moment. He’d always thought his instincts about storms were dead on until he’d met Kate five years ago.

Their first day in the field, she’d put him to utter shame when he hadn’t followed her forecasting and ended up in another state. She’d intercepted the storm of her career and he’d encountered nothing but miles and miles of a sky free of any sort of storm clouds.
His first blue sky bust.

He and Tripp had learned a lot since then, and they owed it all to Kate.

“Not good. Not good.”

The tight strain in Tripp’s voice caught Snyder’s attention. “What?”

“Tornado’s heading right for us.”

Fear tightened Snyder’s gut as Tripp’s worried gaze met his. “Hell. Get over here. Turn us around and I’ll get her whether or not she likes it.” Wind bit at him as soon as he stepped out of the truck. Focused on one goal, he didn’t care if it ripped him to shreds.

He focused on the fact they all needed to get out of here.

As he held up his arms to deflect the wind, the rain started. Driven by high-speed winds, the drops lashed at him, soaking his clothing in seconds. The heavy weight of his wet cotton tee and jeans didn’t deter him in his quest. He fought the gusts, wrestling with the ferocity of nature to get to his goal.

The howling was horrible and reminded him of a jet engine barreling down a runway right for them. That strong wind whipped Kate’s black hair, tangling it as she widened her stance in order to brace herself against the approaching storm. She moved with a casual ease that gave no hint to the danger swirling less than a half mile from where they stood.

The elephant-trunk-shaped tornado gave a deep growl as it chewed up the field. It had darkened considerably since they’d started the chase, the dirt and debris it churned up altering the color to a deep, murky gray. If Snyder hadn’t been so worried about getting Kate and leaving, he might have taken the time to be impressed with Mother Nature’s creation.

He ducked as a thin tree branch narrowly missed his head and reminded him why he was in this mess. The Jeep provided a good anchor and he braced himself against it as he pressed forward.

“Kate, we have to get out of here.”

She was so focused she didn’t even bother to look at him. “I’ll be fine. She’s been shifting the whole path. She’ll shift again.”

“No, she won’t. She’s headed right for you. Come on!”

Monday, January 16, 2012

HARD AS STONE by Sara Brookes

HARD AS STONE by Sara Brookes

Brady thrives on saving patients in his busy emergency room, but when things don't go according to plan, nothing prepares him for a chance encounter. There's something familiar, and mysterious, about the downright sexy-as-hell stranger he encounters on a busy Chicago street.

In Garrett's world there are no coincidences. He's been standing as the doctor's secret guardian for years. Driven by a burning need Brady unknowingly awakened more than a decade ago, Garrett finally breaks his silence. He steps in to show Brady there's more to life than rescuing those in need.

Roused by their desperate passion for one another, their desire reaches an explosive breaking point. Brady realizes one night isn't enough, but Garrett is bound by rules he can't change. Now Brady's healing touch may save more than just a life - it may just save Garrett's soul.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: HARD AS STONE

Copyright © SARA BROOKES, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



“Get me O positive STAT. She’s bleeding out.”

Brady’s hand pulsed around the small heart he cradled. He’d already tried the paddles twice, but the hole through the patient’s heart wouldn’t allow the much needed blood to remain in the lower chamber. The victim had to be stable enough in order to repair the hole.

At this point, it would take a miracle.

Unfortunately, Brady was certain he’d already used up his allotment of miracles. He’d been a doctor long enough to know how this was going to end—even as the patient had been wheeled into his emergency room.

Gunshot wounds and five-year-old little girls didn’t mix.

“Doctor?”

His gaze met the eyes of the trauma nurse who stood on the opposite side of the gurney. He recognized the despair in her expression and had seen it more times than he cared to count. She knew the same truth he did.

But tell that to the little girl who’d been brought in five minutes ago.

The very same one who had a tattered pink elephant next to her pudgy hand even as she lay with her chest cracked open.

Brady was used to this kind of disturbing image, and because of that, he’d stopped having nightmares. Most would assume he didn’t care. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth.

Lately, he’d cared far more than he was supposed to and he suspected it would be his ultimate downfall if the pattern continued.

It didn’t help matters that the girl’s eyes had been open when she’d first been brought in. Clear and bright, the crystal green color had looked alive, and full of energy despite her condition. This little girl had more courage than he could even hope to possess and he was going to do his damnedest to save her life.

The fighters always deserved a second chance.

Brady had always been stone—cold and smooth under pressure. The more intense the situation, the better he worked.

Some days were better than others.

Some, harder.

Tragedy had become a daily part of his life, and this very moment seemed to test the rock-solid exterior he was known for. Despite the fact he wanted to continue, he recognized the possibility was slim. He knew better than to torture himself—and the child—anymore than he already had.

He’d already lost her long before she’d been wheeled into the room.

With a weary sigh, he reached over to flip off the offensive beep that indicated a flatline. Even though he knew it was futile, he continued to massage the tiny organ in his palm.

The head nurse burst back through the door with her hands full of bags of red fluid. Too little, too late.

Brady knew the cadence of life as it rose and fell. He’d fought his way through the peaks and valleys, and yet there was always a constant that couldn’t be avoided—death.

Despite all Brady’s effort, that last stage of life stole this little girl. It wasn’t fair as her light had just begun to glow. The nurses across from him accepted it the moment he pulled his hand from the child’s chest.

“Call it,“ the nurse stated quietly as she dumped the bags of blood on the counter beside her.

He stripped off his gloves and frowned at the large clock on the wall. The very one that taunted him each time he had to say the few words that would devastate a family. “TOD, six thirty-two.”

The weight of the girl’s death added to the moment and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. The large room closed in around him and his heart raced. He threw open the swinging doors, clenched his jaw and pushed past two candy stripers gossiping in the hall.

The thin gauze over his scrubs felt heavy and thick, and he ripped it away. He chucked the blood-soaked fabric into the nearest bio-hazard bin, stepping through the doors of the waiting area. The everyday hustle and bustle of the waiting room slammed into him.

His vision started to go gray and his feet tripped over one another as he tried to move around an approaching nurse. He was dimly aware of the sound of a few people calling his name, concern heavy in all the voices, but he had to get out of there.

As he burst through the hospital entrance, the cold December air hit him in the face. The shock of it brought reality crashing around him.

He’d lost another patient.

Another in a long string of deaths he hadn’t been able to stop. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been trained in how to deal with this and he always knew how to funnel away the emotion in order to do his job.

So why the hell am I reacting this way?

His feet pounded against the pavement as he blindly wove his way through the bustling streets. He blocked the sounds around him, hearing only the rush of his heartbeat. Driven by memory rather than sight, he ran the few blocks between the sterile hospital and the building that always felt like home.

Tall columns of intricate stonework soared high overhead, ending abruptly where the flying buttresses took over. Their carving was just as ornate and detailed as the rest of the masonry around the soaring building. The idea of the graceful lines and sweeping curves went against the scientific formalities he’d spent years learning in medical school.

Why he came here time and time again remained a mystery.

He stared at everything and nothing while his heart pounded. With each beat, a fissure formed. A crack that couldn’t be sealed and even seemed to expand as the seconds ticked by. The world around him went gray again, and he finally recognized the signs of what was happening.

Racing heart.

Shallow breaths.

Clammy palms.

He was in the throes of his first panic attack.

Things like this didn’t happen to him. He was the calm, cool and collected one. The trauma doctor who kept everyone else from falling apart. That resolve propelled him quickly to the top, earning him head of the entire emergency room in just a few short years. The stalwart professional who brushed his personal feelings aside each time he walked through the curtains separating the patients.

His hands clutched the metal streetlight in front of him and he lowered his face so his forehead pressed against the back of his hands.

Breathe in.

Out.

He kept up the slow, measured breaths in order to steady frayed nerves. Why did he feel as if he was falling apart? He was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Surely he could talk himself through this. If he kept things clinical, sterile and didn’t think about the utter fear and desperation he’d seen in that little girl’s eyes, he’d be all right.

The girl had just barely begun her life and he’d gotten a sense—in just a few minutes with her—the she’d seen more than one child should ever experience.

The knowledge caused those small fissures in his heart to fracture, split apart and come undone.

Brady wasn’t having a panic attack—his heart had broken. He’d spent so many years training to keep distance from his patients, and it all came at him in a rush.

Every cut.

Every broken bone.

Every moment he’d called time of death rushed into his soul.

Sorrow and anger swelled to burn through that icy exterior he’d worked so hard to erect. His head pounded from the sudden release of emotion and he gave himself over to it.



Garrett studied the distraught man using the streetlight to steady himself. Even as he watched from the warm comfort of the coffeehouse, the man’s pain was tangible. Garrett’s chest tightened with the knowledge that something had unsettled Brady this much.

He loathed seeing him this way as much as he hated knowing he couldn’t help. Given the wrinkled appearance of his scrubs and the way they were dotted with drops of blood, Garrett knew it had finally happened.

The normally unflappable Dr. Brady McConnell had taken a patient’s death to heart. His habit of working too hard and refusing to take enough time off had finally caught up with him. Not to mention, he never, ever did anything for himself. As most good doctors did, he put his patient’s needs before his own.

Nothing had ever visibly shaken Brady to his core—until now.

At least he was around for this moment.

Garrett couldn’t stand the sight of Brady suffering. He knew he had the power to take away Brady’s pain. Since Brady had started medical school, Garrett had always been at the doctor’s side. However, he hadn’t made himself known before this moment because he’d always stood as a silent guardian.

He pushed through the coffeehouse doors and approached the man he’d always watched from afar.

“Beautiful architecture, isn’t it?” Brady’s head snapped up and Garrett saw the pain behind the elegant blue eyes. The harried and exhausted appearance of Brady’s face worried Garrett further.

“What?“

Garrett offered a friendly smile to lessen some of Brady’s instant skepticism. He gestured to the thirty-two story building across the street with the paper cup in his hand. “I saw you staring at the building earlier when I ducked into the coffee shop to grab a latte. Are you all right?”

“Yes.“ Brady nodded, a lock of his dark hair falling over his brow.

Garrett’s fingers tightened against the cup as they itched to reach out and brush that hair out of the way. Maybe this would be harder than he thought. He’d had years to cultivate his feelings.

To Brady, he was a complete stranger.

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Saturday, December 17, 2011

SLOW BREAK by Sara Brookes

SLOW BREAK by Sara Brookes

Jack Cotton thought he'd made the right choice to walk away from Tawse, the only BDSM club on Sypricon. But a life-altering tragedy has shown him the error of his ways. Now, he's ready to make amends and is more than prepared to kneel before the Dom he left so abruptly.

Denton is bound by the rules of Tawse, and he knows Jack's membership has been terminated. But Jack's return is all too personal and his actions can't simply be ignored. Forced to make a choice, Denton does the only thing his instincts as a Dom tell him. After all, some men, like rules, are meant to be broken.

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~Excerpt~

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother, Jack. Considering the circumstance, I’ll let this violation of the rules slide. I’m not so sure your Dom will agree with me, but that’s his problem to deal with.” Jack nodded and turned his back.

Denton glared at Miranda in annoyance. She glared right back, her bright blue eyes shining despite the low light in the room. “This ends tonight, good or bad, I don’t care. I will not have either of you endangering the rest of the members because of any kind of personal problems in or out of the club. Understood?”

Denton said nothing as the door slammed and the locks slid into place. He knew how to override the code in order to get out of the room, but the news Bastian was dead had hit him harder than he’d let on to Jack. He’d never been interested in the war taking place so far away, so whenever the news reports came on, he tuned them out.

Seeing Jack back in the club was painful enough without adding the news Bastian had been killed. He was pissed but had shown as much emotion as he dared.

Keep emotions out of the equation—at least his own.

He pressed a hand against the wall to steady himself. The quiet of the room allowed him to hear the sound of shifting fabric, and he closed his eyes to will himself away from the moment. He knew he’d find an eager submissive the moment he turned around and he didn’t know if he was ready for this step.

Caught off guard by Jack’s sudden reappearance, he wasn’t sure if he could do what his gut told him needed to be done. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve gladly taken on the task without question. But this was Jack. Asking any of the other Doms to handle this wouldn’t be justice as they weren’t the ones who had the issue.

This was his problem to fix.

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Friday, November 11, 2011

NO RESTRAINT by Sara Brookes

NO RESTRAINT by Sara Brookes

A Sypricon Masters Book

For years, Kegan Riley has been under the intense scrutiny of the public eye. The demand of competing on the Aeronautical Racing Circuit has forced her to tuck away her lifestyle choices and put her racing first. But when the opportunity for a quick break from the chaos presents itself, she detours to Tawse, a BDSM club on the frontier planet, Sypricon.

Walker knew something was special about the gorgeous hot-shot racer the moment she stepped through the club’s doors. He doesn’t care about her fame and fortune; he just wants her underneath his control. Before long, Kegan confesses the dark secrets of her soul and Walker is certain it won’t be long until he shows her how unrestrained submission can heal her damaged heart.

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~Excerpt~

“So tell me why a hot-shot ARC racer like yourself obviously has problems submitting, yet keeps a membership at a sex club on a distant planet where it’s expected.”

Then again, maybe he was supposed to know her intimately. It was a question she’d asked herself for years and still wasn’t certain an honest answer existed. His touch curved under her jaw, his hand collaring her throat above the impulse band. He didn’t squeeze, but left his hand there as a sign to her. A sign she read loud and clear.

He was in charge.

“Tell me, princess.”

Reassured by the firm tone in his voice, she confessed what she’d never told anyone. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be under such intense scrutiny? To have every single move you make examined and analyzed within an inch of its life?” Walker’s thumb slid against her skin, and the quiet sound of it gave her the strength she needed to continue. “I’m what everyone else wants me to be. Here, I get to be whatever I want even though there’s a part of me that can’t give everything up. I want to. So very, very much.”

“So, I was wrong.” Kegan tensed, stunned to hear the confession and his chuckle made her even more curious. “Surprised I can admit I’m wrong?”

“Yes. Most Doms I know wouldn’t admit to such a weakness.”

“Princess, I’m unlike any Dom you’ve ever met. Admitting I’m wrong isn’t a weakness. I was merely incorrect in my approach.” His voice had taken on a husky quality, as if he’d just come off the most euphoric of highs. “Your problem isn’t singularly about control. It’s a big part of it, but some of it is you really need to be reminded of what you are.”

Walker’s fingers worked over the zipper, pulling it down to her waist to expose her cleavage. Those fingers slipped into the opening, gliding over the bare skin he found. He didn’t appear to be surprised to find nothing between her and the suit.

“Let me guess, you won’t wear any kind of support under this in order to hide the fact you are very much a woman in hopes the men on the circuit forget that fact.”

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Friday, September 23, 2011

PERFECT LIMIT by Sara Brookes

PERFECT LIMIT by Sara Brookes

A Sypricon Masters Book

Deputy Brigade Manager Rayna Donaghy is convinced she's imperfect. Abandoned and left for dead, Rayna now lives on Sypricon, a frontier planet known for its scarred surface. After a fatal blaze at one of the planet's quarries, Rayna seeks an escape at the landmark BDSM club, Tawse.

Burke, a Dom at the club, is captivated with the woman who has been under his command for the past several months. However, he's finally had enough of her self-loathing and is determined to help Rayna overcome her fears. In the center of the action, Burke lays her bare for all to see in order to show her being perfect is simply a matter of perception.

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~Excerpt~

“Block them out. Focus on me. It’s just the two of us. We’re the only ones who matter.” His voice was steady and relaxed, a sign he recognized her agitated state.

Her throat dry, she had to swallow a few times in order to gain her voice. “I can’t.” She broke protocol by not tacking on his preferred title at the end of the statement, but she blamed her shock at the suddenness of everything. Of the knowledge only moments ago she’d leaned against the wall watching Merc and his submissive.

She had to fight off the panic attack burning her gut because she felt as if hundreds of eyes openly gawked her.

“You just think you can’t only because you haven’t tried. Dig deeper find out what everyone else can see. It’s there. Believe it.”

Lack of oxygen burned her legs as she fought to breathe and Burke lifted his hand to skim it over her clavicle as he walked around her again.

“You should know better. No one is perfect here or even pretends to be. They make no apologies for what they see as the different flavors of life. Black, red, white, or purple—skin color didn’t matter. Race doesn’t matter either because nothing matters. We all step through the front door as equals, regardless.”

The inflection in his voice and his words soothed her, settling the acid violently churning in her stomach. She inhaled slowly, exhaling in order to calm her racing heart. The beat settled and found a normal rhythm again after some effort.

“Good, little one. You’re doing excellent.”

A quiet murmur rose from those in front of her. It wasn’t the reaction she expected. The whispers were muted but loud enough she could still hear them. They held an interesting quality she hadn’t expected—they sounded fascinated in her.

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Saturday, July 23, 2011

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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Wednesday, July 13, 2011

RAGGED EDGE by Sara Brookes

RAGGED EDGE by Sara Brookes

Dalton is no stranger to hitting rock bottom. He's worked hard to turn his life around. Now he has a quiet life, a successful business and a no-strings-attached arrangement for sex with Kincade. Everything is just as it should be. Then a late-night rendezvous is interrupted by a sexy newcomer, and Dalton realizes something is missing.

Caught up in the intense passion the men share, Erin doesn't know whether to run or get between their hard bodies. She's convinced her attraction is wrong. However, a little persuasion from both Dalton and Cade convinces her she belongs with and between them.

Erin's surrender becomes Dalton's reawakening. A BDSM master, Dalton is in his element commanding his lovers, and soon the threesome fills their nights with mind-blowing pleasure. But when a piece of Dalton's past resurfaces, it threatens the very foundation he's built...and could put him back at the bottom.

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An Excerpt From: RAGGED EDGE

Copyright © SARA BROOKES, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



Dalton was damaged goods.

He’d been broken down and built up again, only to have the world crumble around his feet. Defeated, those ruins of his life had been ignored because he had felt no desire to deal with them. In salvation mode, he’d shut himself away from everything.

A loner and resident bad boy, Dalton Shaw sought solace in no one.

The wind howled as his bike sped down the road to his shop, his carefree attitude evident in his driving. He pushed the bike well over the posted speed limit. This late at night, there weren’t many school children to watch out for.

It had been an interesting evening. A local graphics designer he’d hired to redesign the logo for his bike shop missed the appointment. Things came up, he understood that. But he also appreciated the value of someone’s word. If someone said they’d be somewhere at a certain time, in Dalton’s eyes, they were there.

He’d waited around for two hours, far longer than decorum dictated, and had given up around nine-thirty when his stomach started to protest. Luckily Sally, the sweet elderly waitress at the diner in town, saw herself as a mother figure. She never let him go hungry, no matter the hour. After a hard day of work finishing off the bike he’d spent the past month restoring, it had been a nice break to sit and chat with her.

The late hour comforted him, as he always flourished in the dark, but now he was growing tired and the road blurred in front of his eyes. He shifted gears and noticed the flashing lights bouncing off the trees around him.

A quick glimpse in the side mirror confirmed his suspicions. “Shit.”

Annoyed, he pulled his motorcycle to the shoulder and pushed his foot down on the kickstand to balance the massive bike under him.

Dalton’s fingers tapped out an uneven rhythm of impatience against the gas tank as he waited. He was no stranger to the law in this town, mostly because he spent enough time doing what he could to skirt it. His actions never bothered anyone and no one seemed to take issue if he chose to gamble with his life.

Well, except one person.

The brittle crunch of rocks underfoot caused Dalton to turn to the officer as he approached.

Sheriff Kincade Roberts hooked his thumbs over a large metal belt buckle as he rested his weight on his back foot. Dalton nearly snorted at the posturing. “Is there a problem, Sheriff?”

“You do know we have a helmet law, Mr. Shaw.”

Dalton couldn’t hold back and did snort at the tone of the sheriff’s voice. “Yeah. Obviously you see how much I care. It’s the middle of the night. Not as if there’s a highway full of cars around that I have to worry about.”

The tall man reached up, slid off his hat and brushed a hand over his short reddish-brown hair. “Laws don’t care about the time of day.”

Dalton reached forward and clamped his hand over the handlebar despite the fact it earned him a stern look. “Christ, Roberts, give it a fucking rest. Give me the ticket, go home and take that stick out of your ass.”

Cade shifted again, his posture reflective of the attitude change in his suspect. “Do we have a problem here, Mr. Shaw?”

“Yeah, we do. I’m being stopped by some prick with a badge who thinks he can throw his weight around because he’s on the other side of the law. That new power of yours has gone to your head.”

“If that’s how you feel about it, shall we take this downtown?”

“There is no downtown in this God-forsaken place. Blow the attitude out of your ass.” The motorcycle came to life under Dalton as he pulled away in a spray of rocks. He sped through the gears without care for the damage incurred on the bike. It could be fixed later. Right now, he was too annoyed to care and wanted to put distance between him and the town law.

He wasn’t surprised to see flashing lights behind him as he accelerated. If the new sheriff wanted a high-speed chase, he’d get one. The bike vibrated, the engine purring fast and smooth as it sped down the narrow country road. He shifted gears and the bike roared under him as it leapt forward. Without a helmet, the wind whipped around him and stung his eyes so they watered.

This freedom was his element.

The engine cut off completely when he thumbed the choke and let the speed he’d gathered carry the bike directly into the bay of his shop, Iron Cruisers. As the sheriff pulled into the dirt lot, Dalton smirked and tapped the control to slowly lower the heavy bay door.

The last thing he saw was Cade’s narrowed green eyes. Dalton nearly flipped the sheriff off, but that would be pushing it a little too far and he was already walking a very fine line. While he enjoyed pushing the limits of the law, even he knew there was a line you just didn’t cross.

As he swung his leg to dismount the bike, the side door burst open and the sheriff barreled through. The look on his face was priceless and Dalton grinned in satisfaction.

“You have a real attitude problem, Shaw.” The soft, lazy drawl of the South did nothing to smooth out the rigid authority of the sheriff’s voice.

Dalton shrugged and stood, easily towering several inches over the man in front of him. Cade was tall but lean and almost lanky in contrast to Dalton’s bulk. “Of course I do. Remember, I live just to piss people off. Think I’ve just raised the bar for next time, though.”

“Fine, you’re under arrest for reckless driving and willful endangerment.”

The sheriff stepped forward, clamped his hand around Dalton’s biceps and pulled hard to throw him off balance. Dalton anticipated the move, however, and compensated to flip their positions. Cade stumbled, hitting the bike hard enough to give a grunt of protest.

Dalton moved before the sheriff could stand upright and pushed his body firmly against the hunched man. “So, Sheriff, it seems as if you’re proficient in issuing orders. But I wonder, how versed are you in taking them.” His hand worked between the man and the bike so he could flip the buttons open on the crisply pressed shirt. Cade’s breath hitched as Dalton stripped the fabric back. He let the material gather at the elbows and brought the two halves together to trap Cade’s arms behind him.

The sight of all those straining muscles made Dalton want to lean forward and slide his tongue over the surface of that rock-hard skin. He refrained, but leaned in closer and savored the feel of the man’s firm back against his chest, drank in the sweet cedarwood scent of his aftershave.

“I’ve never had a sheriff before.”

“So you just want to add me to your count. Put another notch on that belt.” There was tension in those words and Dalton’s body sang in response.

“You know very well I don’t use a belt. My hand works just fine.” That same hand glided over the fabric covering Cade’s ass. “When I open tomorrow, what do you think my customers will think when they walk in here and smell the scent of your come all over my workbench?

“I personally like the idea. It would remind me how much the new sheriff couldn’t control himself with a suspect. It may even give me more ideas about finding out just how much that particular sheriff can take. I haven’t put my skills to use in quite some time. I think I’d like to see if I’m still as proficient as I once was.”

Cade’s voice rumbled when Dalton pushed at the front of his pants, forcing his hand all the way down to the base of the man’s cock. Dalton squeezed tightly, perhaps more tightly than the situation called for. He gloated at the feel of the rock-hard state of the sheriff’s erection. Normally Dalton liked to work for it a little more, but tonight was special.

“Fuck.” Cade let out a shaky breath indicative of something other than discomfort.

“Later.” Dalton moved his hand and proceeded to cross the line to show Cade this was no longer just an amusing game. “Right now, you’re going to put that mouth of yours to better use. On your knees.”

He flipped their positions and leaned against his bike as he waited for Cade to comply. When Cade continued to stand there, Dalton decided he needed some incentive and used his free hand to strip open his jeans. Cade’s eyes burned with need as Dalton lifted the hard length of himself free.

That heat poured into Dalton, causing a slow burn at the base of his spine that reflected the need to come. But not yet, it was too soon. They were celebrating Cade’s recent election to sheriff and Dalton wasn’t about to blow it all in a few seconds like some hormonal teenager experimenting in his parent’s basement.

“On your knees,” Dalton repeated again, using more force this time.

Cade sank to the floor, leaning forward as he followed the command. The flat of his tongue slid across the crown of Dalton’s cock and the sheriff clearly crossed a few lines of his own.

* * * * *

Erin Corvus sighed as she worked through the gears on her aging sports car. She didn’t expect Dalton would still be at the shop right now, but she’d feel better if she dropped off the sketches she’d put together. That way they would be there waiting for him when he arrived the next morning.

She shifted again to navigate a tight turn and thought about how Collington Creek was a virtual ghost town this late at night. The small town was situated an hour north of Atlanta, Georgia. With a population of less than seven thousand residents, it wasn’t the sort of place locals had to worry about traffic jams. Of course, most of the town’s population was tucked away in their beds watching late-night talk shows while she sped toward the Iron Cruisers shop.

They were the smart ones.

Long hours were part of the job. Blackbird Design, her graphic-design company, was her livelihood and she had to do everything in her power to ensure its success. Even if that achievement meant she had to work into the wee hours of the morning to finish a job. Her business was only as good as the hours she put in.

She meant to be at the appointment hours ago. Her need for perfection with one of her designs caused her, yet again, to ensure everything was just as it should be.

The motorcycle shop came into view faster than anticipated and she parked in the empty slot next to the sheriff’s vehicle in front of the bay door. Odd for a motorcycle shop to repair a car, but many residents of the town seemed to multi-task when it came time to help each other out.

She’d even done some web designs for a local business or two in order to make money on the side. Maybe Mr. Shaw worked out a deal with the town government and he did all the repairs on city vehicles. Of course, the new sheriff had already made a name for himself with his unconventional ways to save the town money, so it wasn’t completely out of the question.

Now that would be a sweet contract to land, she thought as she shut the car door. She’d love to have a shot at redesigning the town seal in an effort to reflect the history of the area and draw in even more tourists. But if she continued to miss important client appointments, she’d be lucky to design a logo for the historic stockade that stood in the town square.

The shop was simple, as were most things in town, and nondescript with its faded wood siding. Small with only one bay instead of the row of work areas like the shops she was used to back home in Texas, the building before her screamed rural living. An assortment of aging tin signs, which added to the antique air of the business, hung in various locations on the front of the property.

In fact the owner, Dalton Shaw, specialized in restoring late-model motorcycles. It had been one of the things he’d insisted on when they’d spoken on the phone. Somewhere in her design there needed to be an antique bike. She’d done just as he requested, several times over, and hoped he liked the designs she’d come up with.

As she started to set the large black leather case used to transport sketches in front of the shop’s door, she spotted a gap. That trusting nature of locals to unlock doors and even leave keys in ignitions had taken her a bit to get used to. Back in Austin, any property left sitting around unguarded asked to be stolen.

Curious, she pushed open the heavy entrance door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Her question was met with silence, not that she really expected anyone to answer her—not at this time of night. But this was the only address she had for him, and she wanted to be sure he had something to look at when she called tomorrow morning to apologize.

However, that curiosity earned her more than she bargained for.

Her eyes went wide in surprise as she stepped closer and saw someone leaning against the motorcycle in the center of the shop floor. The friendly greeting died in her throat as she realized that someone wasn’t alone. The light in the bay was low, but it was enough for her to make out two figures.

A late-night lovers rendezvous.

Now she understood why the sheriff’s car was parked outside. He was on his knees in front of the man.

If that wasn’t enough indication of the man’s identity, she also recognized the tan uniform shirt stripped back to his elbows. He also still wore the matching dark brown pants and spit-shine chloroform shoes.

Someone had been in a hurry.


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Saturday, May 21, 2011

FORGED IN FIRE by Sara Brookes

FORGED IN FIRE by Sara Brookes
Rebirth Series Book Three

As vampire Evande Austin tries to adjust to her newfound abilities, she can't fight her new reality. She never intended to fall in love with two men. But she also never intended to take Fae blood to keep her alive either. Trouble lurks in the shadows and Evande fears she will not be able to control the raging blood fever that burns through her because of Quinn. Thanks to Logan, the man who gives her anchor, Evande is able to maintain a thread of sanity in the blinding chaos.

When the Elders strike out and her future tumbles around her feet, Evande realizes the two men give her a bond she is unable to survive without. They need her just as much as she needs them. Giving into them both could just be the one thing that saves everyone.
But one thing remains clear - nothing comes without a cost.

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Chapter One


Two gallons.

That’s how much blood is in a normal human body at any given point in their life.

Two gallons of sweet, oxygenated blood.

I craved for that blood to fill my mouth, dance over my tongue and slip down my throat to sate a hunger that prowled deep inside me.

The reason for my current predicament approached with long, loping strides that to anyone else would seem relaxed. As his close, personal friend, and former lover, I knew better. Tense, stressed and so on edge it amazed me he hadn’t fallen off the wagon days ago.

“What do you want, Quinn?” I’d grown tired of the game of cat and mouse we played. We both knew it wasn’t intentional. He had something he needed to get off his chest and only a face-to-face confrontation could make it happen.

“We need to talk.”

“So talk,” I said nonchalantly even though, confused and hurt, I wanted to scream. A week ago, my value shot out of this world when Quinn decided my life wasn’t fucked up enough already and had taken it upon himself to give me his blood. He’d forever changed me just because he thought it was my chance to save the world.

In order to deal with the relentless blood fevers--a direct result of his blood that now coursed through my veins--I needed to accept my new reality and take Quinn’s blood. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want to.

Never in my wildest dreams had I thought it would be this brutal. Each minute awake was a struggle. Every second with Quinn added into the equation was a veritable nightmare. It had gotten so bad in such a short span of time that I’d taken to avoiding him completely in the week since I’d awakened to a new version of vampire that didn’t even have a name.

Thanks to a shipment of blood from my company--the Be Positive Holistic Healing Center--I’d fed recently, so it blurred the rich aroma that emitted from him. However, when the thing you want the most--that you know would take away the razor edge--stood so temptingly in front of you, even the staunchest of purists would waver.

It didn’t help matters that the moment I’d nearly devoured him in an uncontrollable fit of fever still haunted me. My body seemed to act on its own accord now. It cried for him to come near and go away at the same time. The physical tug-of-war exhausted me.

I nearly crossed my arms and started tapping my foot when he still didn’t answer. “You’re the one that wanted to talk. So start.”

“You came to me,” he stated quietly as he pushed a hand through his black hair. “Sought me out when you violated one of the Elder laws by turning Logan. You came back again after you burned Julian to a crisp when he kidnapped Logan. When the rest of the Elders decided to seek their revenge by kidnapping you as well, you had to know that I would do whatever was necessary.”

I didn’t need the reminder of my status as an Elder--a band of seven of the oldest vampires among us. The fury I’d held in check for the past week broke free. “You acted selfishly. You saved me with ulterior motives. I was broken down so there was hardly anything left and you took advantage of that by forcing me to drink your blood.” Not that I expected Quinn O’Brien to listen to anything I had to say. He’d once been High King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and didn’t always take the kindest liking to receiving orders.

Giving them was a different matter entirely.

“I did what I had to do,” he stated calmly, which just infuriated me even more.

“No, you laid open your forearm and took it upon yourself to ensure matters were tipped in your favor. Not to mention, you did it without regard for how I felt about the decision. Your blood did something to me. Changed me. Made me something I’m not sure I like.” There were still things I needed to learn about myself, but it was pretty clear from the outset that life was never going to be the same anymore. Calm had been obliterated from my vocabulary.

From the tight set of his body, he obviously saw the need to follow me despite the vitriol in my voice. I’d done a bang up job of avoiding him already, so he was right to suspect I’d bolt if he so much as blinked.

Luckily, he’d decided to confront me in the middle of the forest as it helped dilute his scent. Of course, it did nothing to mask the tempting aroma of his blood. He was an addiction now.

And I refused to consider the cure.

“I want to help you.” Regret drenched the words. “These past days...I can see the strain on you. Ev, you don’t have to endure this fight. You can stop it.”

I scoffed at his suggestion. He couldn’t do anything about it even if he’d possessed the ability to do so. Like called to like--there was no way to deny that.

He started to move forward, but I matched his steps to back away with equal fervor. I was strong, but not that strong and he toed the boundary I’d so carefully erected. It was status quo for him and it surprised me he hadn’t pushed the boundary between us sooner. He’d push on that line just to see if he could.

Quinn gave a resigned sigh and stopped his forward progress. As he leaned his tall, muscular form against a tree, the pain in his eyes became evident.

Good, I want you to hurt. To experience just a small portion of what I go through from sunrise to sunset each and every day.

Like most things, some days were better than others. Right now wasn’t a good day and to say he tested my patience was an understatement.

“I wanted to explain and I really wish you’d let me.”

I scowled. The heat of his words caused rage to flare to life inside me even though every precaution had been taken in order to see it locked away. Sometimes it had a life of its own and I couldn’t stop it.

“I thought you explained effectively enough when you rescued me. In order to save my life, you forced me to take blood I didn’t ask for. Not to mention the fact you felt responsible for the Elders kidnapping Ana because you’re the reason she’s here. She was the head of your security forces and it was her job to keep an eye on you. Damn it, Quinn, you knew she was here watching you for the past four hundred years and didn’t bother to tell me.” I let out a frustrated snarl. “Instead of trusting me to help you, you decided to turn me into something just as fucked up as the rest of the Elders. I think you’ve succeeded decently enough with all your goals.”

A strip of black hair shifted across his brow as he shook his head. “I would never do anything that would put you in danger, Ev. You have to know that.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Years together had taught me that. I did trust Quinn--once. Now, that trust had been crushed. “But you have no problem with not asking for consent. Never mind the fact you had no idea how I could react to your blood. No one knows, even with Declan’s theory about you and what your blood could possibly do to a vampire. It was untested and that proverbial one-in-a-million shot in the dark. You gambled with my life.”

“You know I did it because the Elders kidnapped Ana. We’ve talked about the fact we think they believe she can fill in the missing link to make any of them even more invincible. They’ve had time to discover that any kind of enchantments from her blood aren’t what they expected.”

The unspoken words hung in the air. No, it wasn’t Ana’s blood that would give the Elders what they wanted. They would need Quinn and that thought shook me to my core.

“Things never get done if you don’t take a chance,” he continued when I remained silent. “You need to be here to fight this fight against the Elders and with the way it was going after Declan nearly killed you, that wasn’t going to happen.”

He was lucky I had a good handle on myself right now or he would have lain dead at my feet for that comment alone. Not that it would do any good. Quinn was an immortal. Even though I was as well, I didn’t possess the kind of strength he did. Standing over six feet tall and a hulking mass of muscles, he could intimidate just standing there.

I pushed my hands through my own black hair to keep from throwing out my hands in frustration. “Would you cut your bullshit, Quinn? You expect me to be perfectly fine with you gambling with my life and everything I’ve known?”

“May I remind you, you have done the same,” he stated calmly with a tilt of his head. “You seized an opportunity with Logan. Instead of letting him die, as he should have in that alley, you made the choice for him. Not much different if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you to do it. Nor did I ask for any of this. Not Logan, not you. I was perfectly happy with my life--” I stopped when he held up a hand.

“You were hiding. That isn’t an existence. That’s someone who sits around while they wait to die.” Quinn remained quiet for a few moments as the statement hung in the air between us. “You know if you just take the blood from me your struggles wouldn’t be this hard.”

Again, purely conjecture. It was a gamble that I wanted to remain untested. I’d played guinea pig enough. “You don’t know that for a fact.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But what else do we have to lose?”

“Everything,” I said faintly and wrapped my arms around my thin form.

The muscles in his jaw worked as he stared and appeared to restrain himself from saying more. Possibly something he might regret. It seemed a little late for him to find a conscience now. “At least let me work out something with Callista.”

Even the mention of one of my best friends wouldn’t sway my position. “No.”

“Stop being so stubborn, kid. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

I shot him a stern look. “So says the great loner himself.”

He huffed out a sharp laugh. “You know, you are the smartest woman I know. Don’t change that by continually refusing me. You won’t know until you try.”

“I can handle this. I’m fine.”

His glare made it clear he knew I was full of shit. “Evande, it doesn’t even have to be a lot or even directly from me if you’re worried about losing control. We’ll talk to Callista and see if we can’t figure out a way to make that happen. Anything to help you get past this.”

“I need to do this on my own, Quinn.” Determined that his way was the best way, whatever I said wouldn’t impress upon him the urgency of my words.

“You forget you don’t have to.”

He seemed to forget the fact I needed to do this without him. The silence stretched out between us and was shattered a few moments later by the shrill ring of a cell phone.

Quinn answered, barking out, “What,” and then simply nodded when he had nothing of value to add to the conversation. “You can’t find another way?”

As he ended the call, I gave him a puzzled look and watched as he pushed away from the tree. Obviously done with both conversations, he started to head back to the house. Curious, I followed without a word.

As far as I was concerned, the discussion about blood was closed and no need to debate the issue further. He wouldn’t see it that way, but he would back off for a bit in order to give me some breathing room.

In reality, he didn’t have a choice.

He needed me and we both knew it.

Once in the house, Quinn moved behind his computer and tapped a few keys. “That was Callista. She needs you to help with some business matters.”

My business partner, Callista Elkerton, had flown to Washington D.C. earlier in the week in order to deal with some issues that had come up with the ethics of the day spa we ran. Nothing new, at least once every few years she had to go sit before a Food and Drug Administration committee and explain that the Be Positive Holistic Healing Center wasn’t up to anything illegal since we dealt with the holistic approach to healing and made a ton of money doing it.

We also dealt blood, but that wasn’t something we were vocal about and needed to play nice with the United States Government. Besides, aside from the brisk business of selling human and vampire blood to other vampires, the centers actually did cater to exclusive clients. Clients who actually paid large sums of money to have heated rocks place on their backs in order to balance their chakras.

One thing this business had taught me, people will pay for anything if you convinced them they needed it enough.

I usually did my best to keep as far away from the meetings as possible since I didn’t possess the gift for public speaking she did. If she needed me, it meant she’d run into a snag. And I didn’t like the prospect of going there any more than Quinn liked the idea of me leaving the ranch.

“She can’t handle it on her own?”

“Doesn’t sound like it. But I’m sure she’ll figure it out, she’s a tough cookie.”

“I’ll go.” I stepped to the desk and made the mistake of leaning near him before I caught myself. Two big steps back put much needed distance between us and I tugged on my shirt as I made a valiant effort to erase his scent. “At least it will be something to give me a sense of self again.”

Evidently, Quinn didn’t see it my way. “No.”

The temper I’d tried to keep banked suddenly flared to life as soon as the single word passed his lips. It layered with the irritation still boiling inside me. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion. This is something I obviously need to handle.”

His green eyes flashed with anger and he purposefully put himself just a few inches from my face. Talk about provoking a caged animal. “You’re not leaving.”

“Yes, I am and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

He settled his hands on his hips and the firm set of his mouth was a signal he wasn’t about to back down. “You’ll leave--when you’re a hundred percent again.”

“Let me guess, you’re the one who’s going to determine that. I don’t think so. You’ll purposefully keep me out of the way to--as you say--keep me safe for my own good.”

“If that were the case, I’d never let you step outside for your little breaks.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose in anger and my eyes narrowed. “Let me? Should I feel honored that the great and powerful Quinn let me do something? Oh wait, you’re only human.”

“I’m trying to help you, Ev. Help you keep flatly rejecting.” He blew out a defeated breath and if this kept up, either I would wear him down or he’d blow a gasket. I, for one, didn’t particularly want to see the latter as he wasn’t the most pleasant to live with when that occurred.

However, the time had long since passed where I deserved to lose my temper. I’d taken care of myself without his help perfectly fine for years. Just because my situation had changed didn’t mean I needed a shoulder to lean on. Well, not his at least.

“I’ll handle this, Quinn. I’m not giving you a choice in the matter--got it?”

A slow smile spread across his lips as he leaned forward again. The emotion touched his eyes and something I hadn’t seen in years sparked. Somehow, I felt as if I’d just been goaded into the argument with him, on purpose.

The bastard had actually enjoyed this.

“Welcome back, kid.” He winked as he pulled away.

Before I could come up with a smart response, there was movement behind me. I turned to watch Logan step into a room still filled with the tension that hadn’t burned off between Quinn and I.

Logan’s eyes narrowed and he seemed to sense the tension in the room immediately. “Quinn, let her help. Whatever it is.” He hadn’t heard Quinn’s quiet words and I recognized he felt as if he needed to help with the situation.

I relaxed a little because he immediately stood up for me without knowing all the details. There was no way I would take that away from him. There had been more than a few occasions recently where I’d leaned heavily on Logan for help. He’d always been right there for me without hesitation. We’d been through a lot in a very short period of time and the fact he was still here spoke volumes.

I’d ripped him away from the life he’d known and thrust him into the very underbelly of evil. Sure, there had been some bumps in the road, but we’d managed to develop a deep and caring relationship that had survived it all. Okay, who was I kidding? They weren’t just bumps, they were mountains, but the fact of the matter still remained that Logan had been there for me when I hadn’t even asked him to be. That said a lot about his character and I wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

Something in Logan’s tone must have touched a nerve with Quinn despite the fact we’d settled the matter between us. I wasn’t about to take that away from him either and settled in to watch. Quinn’s eyes altered to that dangerous green as his gaze shifted to Logan and waved his hand in the air toward me.

“She’ll stand out like a sore thumb. Worse yet, what happens if she has an attack and can’t control the bloodlust? A lot of people are going to die by her hand and I know her well enough to know she’d be heartbroken about it. Plus, the one thing we have to our advantage right now is the Elders don’t know about the changes in her. They find out and we’re screwed more than we already are.”

Logan’s hand closed over my shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. At least someone was unequivocally on my side in this. “I’ll go with her. We’ve gotten pretty good at heading off the attacks when they hit.”

That wasn’t accurate but I wasn’t going to correct him--not at this point. We’d gotten better at anticipating the bloodlust by avoiding the one thing that was the trigger point. As hard as it was to face the truth, it needed saying. After the few things he’d said to me out in the woods, Quinn deserved a few punches to the gut.

I’d do anything at this point to create a little physical distance between us because there was only so much more I could take. Everyone had a breaking point--we just hadn’t found mine yet.

It was coming, though. It wasn’t hard to miss an undercurrent like that in the tension around us.

“The only one I have trouble containing it around is you, Quinn.”

Quinn flinched at the reminder and stood, putting distance between us once again. I let out a grateful sigh as his hand gestured to his eyes, then to mine. “Her eyes. What the hell are you going to do about those?”

“I can help with that.” We turned at the sound of the voice to find Lucas in the front hallway with two other men flanking him. So much for Quinn’s top-of-the-line security system.

Lucas Edwards, Ana’s best friend and Callista’s current lover, wore a smug smile. He looked very pleased with himself and that always meant trouble. That smile spread even wider as he hooked his thumbs in his pockets and gestured to the men with his elbows. “Everyone, I’d like for you to meet your new best friends, Carter West and Stark Grantham.”

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Tuesday, May 10, 2011

FLASH OF DARK by Sara Brookes

FLASH OF DARK by Sara Brookes


Rebirth Series Book One

There's trouble brewing on the horizon. Ana - a member of the immortal Fae - unknowingly discovers a secret that could potentially alter the calm life she has carefully built around her. Toss in a few murders, a best friend who is a vampire and a human male fervently pursuing her and that toxic touch she possesses could be the least of her worries.

Would you give up your soul for just one touch?

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Chapter One


My head snapped to the side, vision blurring as my eyes watered from the shock. Pain radiated from the site of impact on my jaw. The bruiser in front of me had managed to sneak in a cheap shot. The bastard probably expected me to slide into psycho chick mode right about now and flail my arms around in the air hoping for purchase. Maybe rake my nails over his cheek in the typical female defense. But I had another ace up my sleeve.

I was no helpless damsel in distress.

His calloused knuckles clenched into a fist again and just as he lunged for me once more, I clamped my fingers around his hand, stopping all of his forward movement. His startled look said it all. He hadn’t expected me to fight back this way. Hadn’t expected this unassuming woman would actually to stand up to him.

He obviously wasn’t used to having women fighting back.

He was threatening the patrons of my club, the ones that put their trust in me when they entered through these doors, leaving their daily lives behind. I was simply upholding that unspoken promise. His face took on a blotchy red tone as he struggled to rip his hand away from mine. He wasn’t aware of it, but the more he fought, the easier he was making it for me to dislike him even more. To make me feel absolutely no remorse for what I was going to do.

I pulled on his hand, drew it down to waist level and held it there. Something inside of me unfurled then, flashing instantly hot as I held his hand still. I could feel it unwinding after having been tightly coiled and secured for as long as I could remember. Its warmth feeling old and familiar, reminding me of something I was unaware I was missing. I’d forgotten this part of me and it was hard to contain it now that it was making itself aware again. Safety for those around me was at the forefront of my mind and even though I was raging inside at the insipid man in front of me, I reined myself in. Losing total control wasn’t an option right now. Too many innocents, ones that could easily get hurt, were around. I wasn’t going to have that hanging over my head.

I unleashed just a single thin thread of my control and the overweight man dropped to his knees, the presence of fear in his eyes obvious as he stared up at me. Having unlocked that hidden side of me made me feel alive and very much in power. Of myself. Of the one lowered to bended knee before me. I saw in his eyes an emotion that I alone had caused.

Fear.

There was a surge of intoxicating power knowing that and I could easily surrender to it if I let myself.

His cobalt blue eyes were wide as he looked up at me, his black pupils growing so wide there was only a thin thread of the blue remaining at the rim. A quiet pain spread out from where my skin pressed against his and I pulled back, withdrawing the essence of myself, knowing that he had gotten the message loud and clear. My club, my rules and I wasn’t about to take any of his bullshit here.

“Take it somewhere else,” I spat at him and dropped his useless arm like a hot poker fresh out of the fire. I didn’t want to touch him anymore and from the way the rest of the crowd was giving him a wide berth as he rose, they didn’t either. After what he had just attempted to do, did you blame them?

I folded the power swelling inside of me, ignoring its demands to be released after having gotten a taste of the freedom I rarely ever granted. It was better for everyone around me.

Safer.

The bouncer who worked the door outside swept in to manhandle the bulky offender out the door and I gave the over-muscled employee I hired three years ago a dismissive look. He knew I wasn’t pleased to have to handle the delinquent myself and that he would have to face me later. It wasn’t a prospect that he was looking forward to, judging by the way he averted his gaze from mine as he pushed the once unruly patron out the door.

Good, he should be wary of me. I was pissed that I had been left to do the dirty work for which I had specifically hired massively muscled men to do, even though I was perfectly capable of handling it myself. That wasn’t the point. I employed them for a reason. The patrons of the club counted on it and the happier they were, the more they became repeat customers whose money I gladly took. Right now, this particular employee wasn’t any better to me than a six year old throwing a tantrum when his comic books had been taken away. When I was done with him tomorrow, he would wish for unlimited regeneration abilities like those comic book heroes. Especially, once I ripped him a new asshole.

The crowd that remained parted as I worked my way back to the bar, sliding my hand over my jaw where the goon had cold-cocked me. I knew that everyone’s gaze was following me and it wouldn’t do to let them know that I wasn’t feeling a lick of pain. In their eyes, I was just as human as they were. No need to let the secret out now.

Lucas’s gaze met mine as I arrived at the bar and I reached for the shot of tequila he’d set out for me. Good to know we were on the same wave length. I turned, facing the crowd and sent all the customers I could see in the dim light of the dance club a beaming smile. One that reassured them that this was the place to party and we, as the club management team, had their best interests in mind. “Síoraí, the bar is open and a free round of drinks for everyone!” I downed the shot and welcomed the familiar burn as the aged wood taste slid down my throat and ignited a warm smolder inside of me. It didn’t compare to the feeling from earlier but it made me smile just the same. A flush tinted my cheeks from the heat and I slammed the small glass down on the counter as a signal that the show was over.

A roar went up from the crowd and they surged forward, screaming their orders as the bartenders burst into a flurry of activity. My employees were going to hate me for that statement, but it would keep most of them busy for a while as they attended to the requests.

I made my way to the far end of the bar, away from the crush of patrons waiting for their free booze and settled onto the barstool I had been occupying before the commotion had erupted. My cigarette still burned red hot in the ashtray and I lifted it to my mouth for a grateful drag. The smoke curled through my lungs as I inhaled and closed my eyes, savoring the relaxation that washed over me after such a chaotic few moments.

Why were people so idiotic? Just when you thought that society had taken its last step forward on the path of stupidity, someone did something that broadened the walkway instead to throw them back decades in advancement. The jerk I had just thrown out was obviously drunk and full of himself. Alcohol did that to people--gave them balls that they didn’t normally possess. I glanced over at the woman who had been the object of the drunkard’s sloppy advances and saw her hand flutter nervously as she downed a shot of something neon green in a test tube. Tonight, alcohol would give her the courage to stay here instead of escaping to her apartment to hide from what happened.

By tomorrow, her life would be back to normal. The incident forgotten behind a layered haze of alcohol.

She would be alright but he would still be an asshole.

A bag of frozen peas was tossed onto the bar in front of me and ruined the thought I had been mulling about humanity eventually redeeming itself. I scowled at Lucas when my eyes found him standing on the other side of the bar, looking intently at me.

“Don’t you have customers to serve?” I asked, not bothering to smother my annoyance that he was talking to me instead.

He flashed me an easy smile and began using a towel to wipe out the beer glasses that he had just taken from the dishwasher. His electric blue eyes held a mischievous gleam that was obvious even in the dark of the club. “Rest of the crew has it handled and you looked like you needed a reminder.”

“Of?” I wasn’t sure what he meant.

He slid the glass he had been drying onto the overhead shelf and leaned over to me as the music started pounding through the speakers once more. The crowd had already moved on from the little show they had watched and wanted to continue dancing the night away. Eager to leave their daily fears, reservations and doubts about the things that go bump in the night at the door and have a few hours of fun. “A reminder that a delicate woman such as yourself will have a very bruised jaw right about now from the meaty fist of a certain unruly patron.” He nudged the bag of frozen vegetables in front of me and gave me a speculative look.

“Shit.” I pressed the icy bag against the side of my hurt jaw and winced at the temperature against my warm skin. I’d obviously forgotten what I had just been acutely aware of just moments ago when I walked through the crowd. Posing as a human can be a royal pain in the ass sometimes. “Thanks.”

He nodded as his eyes scanned over the sea of bobbing heads on the dance floor. The club was crowded tonight, somewhat unusual for a Wednesday night. Seems there was a slew of people wanting to start their weekend early and decided that my establishment was the place to be. The more of them, the more money for me. You certainly won’t find me complaining about those that lined my pockets.

The influx of customers had led to the disturbance that occurred earlier. Mix booze with the sexual heat that was usually generated in this type of dance club and someone was bound to get randy occasionally. One thing I didn’t stand for, and widely known for in Cincinnati, was tolerance for idiocy. You show the least little bit of indiscretion on my property and you’d find yourself the owner of one foot up your ass kicking you to the curb.

Síoraí was known as a safe haven where you were free to let your imagination roam as you left the stress of your everyday life behind. I wasn’t about to let that change for some jerk who didn’t want to keep his dick in his pants.

Lucas brushed at the few locks of black hair that fell over his brow as he leaned toward me. His lurid grin was especially potent tonight and I worried what he had up his sleeve. There was always something up Lucas’s sleeve. “You’ve got an admirer.”

I followed Lucas’s playful gaze and saw what he meant when the sea of dancers parted and a lone man sat at one of the tables on the other side of the club. I snorted when I spotted him and rolled my eyes as I turned back to Lucas. “He probably just wants another drink,” I said in reference to the empty glass I saw the man spinning around on the table top, leaving condensation rings on the stained wood tabletop.

It was Lucas’s turn to snort. “I know that look anywhere. Hell, I’ve given it to many a woman and his mind is not on his drink, I assure you.”

“Would that be the same look the blonde over there is currently giving you?” I waved a finger in the direction of where a slim, petite woman was waiting patiently for Lucas to refill her glass. She appeared anxious for him to return and swayed in time to the music in invitation.

As if Lucas Edwards needed one.

“That would be an entirely different look.” He tapped his knuckles in front of me before moving off. “You’ve got company heading toward you.”

I turned my head slightly to watch with seeming disinterest, letting my eyes scan over the crowd of patrons on the dance floor. With the closer look, I realized the man pushing his way through the undulating crowd was familiar. Men scowled at him while women gave him inviting smiles.

You couldn’t blame them really. Even outfitted in a sharply cut midnight gray three piece suit you could see he had chiseled his body with hours of hard workouts. You couldn’t help but appreciate the apparent effort that it obviously took to look the way he did. Dark blond hair cut in the latest version of what the elite considered fashionable and gray eyes that hid nothing of their intent. Of course, considering who he was, looks played an important part of the aura that seemingly hovered all around him. Despite the appreciative ogles he was receiving from various women on the dance floor, he smiled politely and continued moving through the crowd in seeming dismissal.

Sights set elsewhere, he wasn’t interested in them.

Working until closing of the club each night meant that I was usually planted in front of the television for a few hours before falling asleep. This, of course, meant that the only form of entertainment was the late night tabloid shows about people I couldn’t care less about. It was either digital snow or you spent the time learning a whole lot of information about people who spent their time thinking they were better than the rest of us.

The man currently working his way across my packed dance floor was Stark Grantham. A regular favorite of the paparazzi hounds and gossip shows.

Since I had a habit of following media reports, not to mention my stupid affinity for watching the shows as I fell asleep at night, I knew that he wasn’t a man who took a lot of bullshit. I knew he even considered himself to be one of the finest at scenting when he was being fed a line. Top notch, in fact. That was why he didn’t have time to be bothered with trivial matters in his life. Not that I couldn’t say that I blamed him.

I could be the same way myself.

I also knew he was an adrenaline junkie. Name it and the enigmatic Mr. Grantham had partaken in the adventure. He was known to spend winters in France barreling down the slopes, be it strapped to a snowboard or a pair of skis. His summers, throwing himself out of a plane eighteen thousand feet over Monterey Bay. A smoker and a drinker, he was the epitome of indulgence. The seven deadly sins had nothing on him or at least that’s what the tabloids wanted all of the normal citizens who lead exceedingly boring lives in comparison to believe.

I highly respected his devil may care attitude because I once spent my life searching for the latest and greatest things to suit my exotic tastes as well. Now, I did my best to blend into the crowd. Except when it came to my hair, there were no compromises in that area of my life. There was no way to ignore this blindingly red mass of hair, even in its dulled state. If they only knew the truth about how it really looked, but there was nothing wrong with keeping them guessing.

In one of the few interviews Stark had given to the news magazines, he had insisted that he wasn’t content to settle in one place long enough to see dust develop on the furnishings. He believed that those in search of the ultimate high didn't have the patience for the simple things in life. He had recently settled in Cincinnati to expand his business, no doubt with plans already in place, to move when he was ready.

See? Told you, it was easy to find out all you never wanted to know about someone just by watching trash television. Don’t say it never taught you anything. Despite knowing as much as I did on the surface about Stark, I never would have imagined that he’d be sitting in my club, let alone working his way through to crowd to the packed bar.

Heading for me.

In my eyes, I was no one. A dance club owner who did her best to cater to the needs of her clientele and tried to keep up with the latest and greatest techno beats. Of course, much like I knew about Stark Grantham on the outside, the dance club owner I described was merely what I wanted others to see of me.

What very few people, the count currently being contained to only one other than myself, knew was that I was a guardian for the Tuatha Dé Danann. I was here amongst the humans, following my assignment to ensure that he didn’t fuck up. That assignment being Quinn O'Brien, but he was far from a screw up. About as far removed from it as you can get in fact, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need someone watching over his shoulder. He had been our High King until about four hundred and fifty years ago. A deal had been struck and here I sat.

Bored out of my freaking mind.

Quinn wasn’t exactly the most exciting assignment I had ever partaken. Though, I shouldn’t complain too loudly because his seeming affinity for holing himself up at his ranch certainly afforded me a large amount of free time in order to pursue my interests here.

My interest right now was Stark since he was in my club. What brought him here to my meager neck of the woods? Despite my owning the club, I was a no one in the eyes of society. I was quite happy with that arrangement. The further under the radar I was, the better.

From what I could tell judging by the interested gleam in eyes the color of angry storm clouds, he was stalking his prey. I probably should have felt scandalized.

Notice I said should.

I smiled to myself and shifted my focus from the approaching man, signaling to Lucas. The young looking bartender shot a winning smile to the patron he was serving and nodded as an indication he would be over in a minute. As I watched, his every movement was focused on the girl on the other side of the counter. If I didn’t know his tastes better, I would say that Lucas had just picked his mark for the night. I was still of the opinion that she was a little too blonde for him and just as I suspected, the woman slunk off to join her friends at a nearby table, very much alone and with no prospect of a night of adventure--invitation rejected.

I tapped the ashes off my cigarette before taking a drag, wondering why I continued to bother smoking in the first place. I raised an eyebrow as Lucas came my way with a glass of tonic in his hand. He feigned a look of innocence as he set the drink in front of me and gestured for a hit off my cigarette. He apparently didn’t wonder why he smoked. Not that either of us had to worry about the side effects of smoking.

“She was a bit young for you,” I said as I handed him the cigarette. I had a strict rule that the bartenders couldn’t smoke on shift. Prior to that enforcement, most of them had a tendency to stretch that quick break in the alley into something longer. All this loud music, sexual tension and alcohol tended to make the staff’s minds wander and I’d found them getting all hot and bothered with each other out in the back alley during those supposed smoke breaks and on more than one occasion. Sex on the clock between employees was not a way to drum up business. I made a concession for him however as he just wanted one hit. Plus he was the closest thing to a best friend I had here and the one person that knew the full truth about me.

“I did nothing but make her enjoy the wait time for her drink.” His angelic face was the picture of innocence, but I knew better. There was a beast that regularly prowled and insisted on being unleashed occasionally. I knew all about that myself despite our marked differences.

“So, you didn’t say anything about how you’d like to entertain her after you got off shift? How you could really--what was it I heard you tell me once, ah yes--sink your teeth into her?” While that was normally an advantageous prospect from a man with Lucas’s good looks, most unsuspecting females didn’t realize that he meant it literally because he was just as immortal as I am. He was one of those things that went bump in the night, but unlike me, Lucas was a vampire.

“Well, there was that.” He grinned, waggling his eyebrows a little as he let his thoughts show clearly on his face. He had fully intended to taste that girl in more ways than one. The rest of the female species better be on the lookout for him tonight as he was apparently very full of himself. Not that that wasn't the norm for him, but tonight he seemed particularly interested in sating his hunger for the female of the species. I wondered if he was back on human blood because he certainly seemed to be a little more careless than he usually was.

I pushed the little niggling thought to the side because it wasn’t my business and felt the need to rib Lucas about the obvious. “She wasn’t your type.”

“Neither is he.” I followed Lucas’s glance and saw that Stark had finally made his way through the crowd and would be near us with a few quick strides. I took a drag off the cigarette Lucas had returned to me before moving off to fill drink orders and met Stark’s knowing gaze as he approached.

He flashed me a casual smile as he leaned on the bar and nodded his head in greeting. I nodded in return, swallowing the last of my tonic water, my throat gone dry with the taste of anticipation of actually talking to the one and only daredevil CEO of Stark Grantham Incorporated.

“You look like you could use something stiffer inside you.”

My amused mood blackened instantly as my expectations went up in flames. Now if that wasn’t just the cheesiest damn line I had ever heard in my life. And owning this club, I had heard them all, believe me. Maybe the seedy tabloid news programs had painted him as they wanted to, rather than showing he was nothing more than a jerk with a large bank account. Maybe they had wanted him to be something he wasn’t simply because he looked so good in that suit and had the balls to throw himself off the highest mountain just for the thrill. I rolled my eyes, disappointed in myself because I had been so off and muttered under my breath. “Go away, asshole.”

Stark obviously wasn’t easily swayed and signaled to Lucas. The bartender poured a few drinks before moving to take Stark’s order. “What can I get for you?”

I could hear the hint of amusement in Lucas’s voice and silently cursed him. He was enjoying himself way too much.

Stark held up two fingers and set his empty glass on the bar in front of him. “Same as what I was having.”

Lucas shot me a lurid grin and I resisted the urge to flip him off. Two shots of tequila were set down on the countertop between the two of us and Lucas quickly disappeared, interested in seeing if someone else needed help with their liquor order.

Traitor.

Stark palmed one of the shot glasses while he slid the other closer to me. “Wasn’t a line, if that’s what you’re thinking. Saw you sitting here sucking down water and you looked like you needed something with a bit more muscle to it. Especially after watching you level that overgrown child.”

I was fairly certain there was a hint of admiration in that last statement. My annoyance eased a little and I decided I’d been a little harsh. First impressions could be wrong after all. I smiled genially and nodded, tapping my cigarette against the glass ashtray. “Good, because that would have been one hell of a lousy greeting if it had been a line.” I pushed the tequila glass away, back toward where Stark had set his empty one. “I can’t, I’m working.”

“Which is exactly why you should.” He shoved the short glass back and gave me a look that was almost challenging. Obviously he had seen me take the shot of tequila earlier upon declaring the bar was open. That had been directly related to work and wasn’t something I would normally do. Given the circumstances, and never one to back down from an issued challenge, I downed the liquid, welcoming the hot burn that came when I swallowed. I turned the shot glass over as I placed it back on the bar. He cocked an eyebrow in approval and signaled for two more.

“Name’s Stark and I’d like to buy you another round,” he said, leaning both arms against the bar and gave me a view that I couldn’t ignore.

Yeah, the rear view was just as tantalizing as the front. That was something the tabloid magazine had gotten right.

Dammit.

I mentally shook off my momentary lapse into libido land and reminded myself that I had responsibilities. I could admire Stark from afar but that was about all I could offer for the moment. “Ana Sullivan. I’d like to, Stark, but as I said, I’m working. I appreciate the offer though.” I could see the disappointment on his face, the annoyance that darkened the color of his eyes a little. I wasn’t going to let it sway me though, however attractive I thought he was. “Maybe another time.”

“Tomorrow night works for me. You?” I started to open my mouth in rejection and he shook his head with a knowing smile. “Let me guess. Working, right?”

I nodded my head in confirmation as I picked at an errant black thread on my shirt. Must have picked it up during the scuffle, the jerk had been wearing head to toe black. As if it had made him cooler in some respect. Black was for burglars, emo Goth wannabes and for getting laid. Period. “In fact, I’m working every night.”

“Well, you certainly are one hard working woman, aren’t you?” Stark said appreciatively.

“You have no idea,” Lucas chimed in as he offered two more shots of tequila despite my protests. “Ana wouldn’t know the meaning of a night off if it bit her on that very firm ass.”

I shot a look of disdain in Lucas’s direction and he slunk off with a wide grin on his face, obviously amused with himself. Stark’s laughter sounded in my ear and he smothered it quietly when I gave him the same look. I pushed the shot of liquor away and ground out my cigarette in the ashtray.

Standing, I pushed the barstool out from under me with my foot and offered my hand to Stark. Despite the fact that I was enjoying the view of the man in front of me, I had customers to think about. Work was work after all and I still had bills to pay. “Running the club takes most of my time. Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a social life.” That statement was a complete and utter lie stretched to the limit bullshit. While the staff did most of the duties for me and I had other obligations here other than to watch over Quinn, there was an enormous amount of free time on my hands. It wouldn’t do to let him know that at this early stage of the game.

I was Fae, not a fool.

His hand slid easily into mine and you’d have to be an idiot to deny the spark of heat that ignited between us as our hands met. The gray of his eyes shifted and I saw a flash of dark that I appreciated. He made no effort to cover his disappointment, to mask the thoughts that had been racing through his mind in those few seconds. He was an open book in that moment and something inside me gave a hitch of anticipation and appreciation. I could easily see the two of us falling into bed.

He noticed the effect of our hands meeting too and one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement. “Are you sure about that?”

There was no doubt in my mind what his intentions were should I actually accept his offer. I can’t say that the thought didn’t intrigue me on some level. You had to be dead not to appreciate a man with his sort of looks, especially when the intentions were aimed directly at you. However, I was exceedingly careful about whose bed I frequented. I had never been the type to let my hormones rule my world, not to mention there were certain things that I needed to be careful of. Being Fae may have had its advantages but there were disadvantages as well especially in my case. Still, I was flattered. “Are you asking me out?”

“There would be dinner, of a sort, involved, so yes--a date if you will.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, taking in his expensive tailored suit, the fine Italian leather shoes he was wearing. There were some things that a woman, even a Fae, knew. “I’m fairly certain that I’m not your type, Mr. Grantham.”

A charming smile lit up the devilish expression on his face. “What makes you so sure of that?”

Damn, he was handsome.

Looks aside, my affinity for the cheap, sleazy tabloid shows had not only shown me the good about Stark, but the bad as well. I knew what was behind that deceptive smile. Judging from the revolving stream of women he used as arm candy, each and every one I had seen were the polar opposite of me. I couldn’t care less about what fashions were currently walking the runways and how quickly I could get my hands on them. I was happier frequenting the thrift store a few blocks away than throwing my money away on the latest overpriced fashions. Waste of time and resources in my opinion, especially at my age. We aren’t even going to discuss my true age. In human years, I’m hellaciously old. Thankfully I didn’t look a day over thirty-one. Twenty-nine on a good day when I actually bothered to fuss with make-up and a dress. Right now, my jeans and crisp white shirt suited me just fine. Dressing up had never been my forte. Even before I had found myself amongst humans.

Just at that moment, a bleached blonde that was all tits and ass, wearing a black clingy scrap of material that left little to the imagination folded herself around Stark. She trailed a finger over the gentle curve of his ear and flashed a smile at him that spoke of the night she had obviously planned--one that involved getting both of them horizontal as soon as possible.

Hell, if she looked at me like that, said those things I overheard, I’d do her. The look she did give me wasn’t as friendly as the one she had given Stark. In fact, it was one of those distasteful glares that said she wanted me as far away as possible. She obviously had her claws already firmly, deeply seated under Stark’s skin and saw me as an annoyance. Ms. Fake and Bake didn’t seem to care that she was obviously the flavor of the moment. She was going to take what she could get from what I could see.

I arched an eyebrow at Stark and smirked. His eyes met mine and though he wasn’t apologetic, the intent I had glimpsed earlier was gone. “I rest my case,” I said before I moved off, leaving the two of them to whatever they had planned for the night. Despite my dismissal, I felt his eyes watching me as I disappeared through the moving crowd. I felt those eyes follow me all the way up the stairs until I disappeared through my office. The door shut behind me with a soft click and the soundproofing of the room shut out the pounding beat that drove the crowd on the dance floor below. My back contacted with the wood and I smiled into the dark of my office.

That was not the last I would see of Stark Grantham, I knew that without question. He was curious enough to return, to see if he could learn more about the woman who was convinced she wasn’t his type.

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