WHERE THERE'S SMOKE by Karen Kelley

WHERE THERE'S SMOKE by Karen Kelley

When sexy wannabe-demon, Destiny Carter, is kicked out of Hell, she lands in Ft. Worth, Texas with one week to corrupt a soul. Or else. She slips into a slinky red dress, and heads straight for the delicious, corruptible looking cowboy at the bar.

But Chance Bellew has his own agenda-saving souls. He's not your typical angel. He’s a nephilim, to be exact. Centuries ago, angels came down from Heaven and mated with mortal women. When the women bore children, a new race was created. Immortals with powers—demigods, nephilim.

But the children don’t live by the same rules as mortals, or that of the typical, robe-wearing, bright light-surrounding-them angels. Hell, most of the time the nephilim are breaking the rules, and making up new ones as they go. As long as they don’t cross over to the dark side, everyone pretty much stays out of their way.

But sometimes a demon-in-training, who looks like Destiny, comes along and all Hell breaks loose.

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Chapter 1

Destiny Carter was six years old when she had the first inkling that her life wouldn't be a fairy tale. That was the day her mother left her in a grocery store and never came back. Destiny was right, her life went downhill from there. Bad foster homes, bad boyfriends, and really, really bad choices.

Then she died and went to Hell.

Until she was kicked out.

Destiny landed on the sidewalk with a hard thump.

"Son of a bitch!" She grimaced as she came to her feet, rubbing her hands over her tender backside. She was probably the first person ever to get kicked out of Hell. Temporarily, that is.
Hysterical laughter bubbled inside her, but she quickly tamped it down. She was not going to lose what little bit of sanity she had left. She would get through this like she did everything else, by gritting her teeth and doing what she had to do.

All is not lost. Just take a deep breath.

She inhaled.

Ugh! Her nose twitched as a god-awful stench filled her space. She glanced down the deserted street. Faded army-green painted letters on a shabby storefront window proclaimed it as Ft. Worth's finest resale shop.

Oh hell, she'd landed close to the stockyards in Ft. Worth, Texas, but this wasn't Billy Bob's. No, skid-row bars and vacant buildings lined both sides of the street.

Could her day get any worse?

Not that she had anything against Texas, except it was hot as hell. The dry heat was not helping her mood.

"I couldn't manage to steal one more soul?" she grumbled.

Okay, so she wasn't the best salesperson in the underworld. Why didn't that lawyer just sign on the dotted line? He insisted on reading the fine print and before she knew it, poof, he was gone. One more soul and she would've been a full-fledged demon with all the rights and privileges of that position-like drinking, gambling, and lots of sex.

"Sex," she breathed on a sigh as she slowly combed her fingers through her long, black hair. Naked, straining bodies. Hands touching, caressing. She bit her bottom lip and forced the vision to go far, far away before she grabbed the grungy-looking bum leaning against the vacant store front and had her way with him.

She grimaced. Maybe she wasn't that hard up. But Destiny did really miss sex. Everything about her life might have been lousy, but never the sex. And right now she was so horny she figured she'd start sprouting a pair any time, except people at the trainee level couldn't grow a set of horns to save their lives.

Now she was one step farther from her goal. The ones in charge were really pissed, but at least they had given her another chance, and new orders: corrupt someone and drag the unwitting person back to Hell. She had one week to do it or else. Why the fuck had they tacked on "or else"? What were they going to do? Send her to Hell?

Okay, shake it off. Getting kicked out was only a minor glitch. She could take a soul in less than a week. A moment of panic sent a shiver down her spine and her bravado drained away. Who was she kidding? Only dying souls caught between Heaven and Hell were sent to the sorting station. Her job was to convince them Hell was their best choice. She didn't have to search them out. Nothing ever went right for her in life. Why did she think being dead would change things?

No, she could do this. She would survive.

A flashing neon sign suddenly caught her attention when one of the bulbs popped and blew out. THE STOMPIN' GROUND. A bar. Her mouth watered. Demons-in-training weren't allowed to drink, or do much of anything on the job, and they were always on the job. One drink wouldn't hurt, and a bar would be a good place to start looking for a corruptible soul. In fact, it was her duty to go inside and check the place out.

A slow smile curved her lips as she slid her hands slowly over her body and the plain, butt-ugly, black wool uniform shift became a tight-fitting, low-cut, fuck-me red dress that shimmered with each slow, seductive step she took. Yeah, she was bad. Life made her that way. That's why she went straight to Hell. You never saw a good girl in Hell.

The bum's mouth dropped open. He looked at his wrinkled brown paper sack that obviously held a bottle of booze, then back at her. She grinned and winked. He tipped the bottle to his mouth, guzzling down more alcohol.

"See you in Hell," she muttered.

Destiny made her way to the bar, then pushed on the door, stepping inside the cool, dimly lit interior. As soon as her eyes adjusted, she glanced around. A haze of cigarette smoke formed a gray cloud above the patrons.

Slim pickings. Only a handful of people sat at tables.

Two worn out hookers were strategically positioned close to the door. Too easy. They already had Hell stamped on their foreheads. Destiny wanted to impress the powers that be. Used-up hookers would not make an impact on them.

A couple of men sat at another table deep in conversation about a stupid football game. Not bad looking. Wedding rings glinted on their fingers. Married. Too much trouble.

Hmm... But the demons might be impressed.

Before she could take a step toward them the bathroom door opened, spilling a patch of light into the bar. Two laughing women joined the men at their table. Scratch that idea. Two was company, four was a crowd.

There was a lively group of barely legal college boys chugging pitchers of beer. Hmm, certainly corruptible. From the way they were dressed, they were definitely slumming. One guy glanced her way, eyes practically bugging out.

Oh hell, was that drool? No thanks!

Someone put money in the jukebox and a slow country song began to play. For a moment, she let the deep voice of the singer wash over her. She didn't even mind that he was crooning about his cheating wife and losing himself in a bottle of whiskey. Damn, she missed being alive.

Her gaze languidly drifted around the rest of the room, past dark walls with posters of country singers plastered all over them. The bartender wiped a damp cloth across one end of the bar.
Destiny's eyes narrowed as she sized him up. The potential was there.

He raised his head, saw her, then smiled. The kind of smile that made her feel good all over. He wasn't bad looking, in a good-old-boy sort of way.

Destiny drew in a deep breath as she readied herself for a full assault, but at the last minute a movement at the other end of the bar caught her eye.

A lone cowboy sat on one of the stools nursing a beer, his back to her. He wore a black T-shirt that deliciously hugged his broad shoulders. Her gaze dropped. The jeans weren't bad, either.
Nope, not bad at all. The guy had a great ass from this angle. Sweet! Cowboy had just enough muscles that he created a fantasy, but not enough that she would be in competition with his ego.

He turned and looked her way, his gaze sliding sensuously over her body. Tingles of excitement tickled her spine. She had such a fondness for cowboys. They knew how to ride 'em long and hard, and she was all for long and hard.

She devoured him with one long lazy look. His black Stetson was pulled down low on his forehead as though he didn't give a damn about anyone or anything. It didn't help that, for some insane reason, black cowboy hats turned her on.

Oh baby, she was about to make his wet dreams come true. Yee-haw, ride 'em cowboy.
The bartender was forgotten as she locked on target. Destiny slid her hands over her hips nice and slow before sauntering toward him, putting just a little bit of swing in her hips.

This time she would be the one calling the shots. The one in charge. No one would ever control her again like they had when she was alive. She would take what she wanted and to hell with the rest! Literally.

The cowboy watched her every step of the way. She was already wrapping him around her little finger and the poor guy didn't have a clue. She stopped beside him.

"Buy a lady a beer?" she asked. Her words held enough invitation that only an idiot wouldn't guess she wanted more than a beer, and this guy didn't look like an idiot. She slid onto the stool next to his, propping her elbow on the scarred wooden surface of the bar.

Over the haze of smoke, over the smell of alcohol, Destiny caught another scent that weaved its way around her, making her lean in a little closer. It was spicy and held a promise of nights filled with down-and-dirty sex. She could feel the waves of heat radiating off him, curling around her body and wrapping her in a sensual cloud of sexual awareness.

"A beer for the lady," he drawled, breaking into her fantasy and nodding toward the bartender.
His voice sent tingles down her spine. It was just a little raspy-low and sexy.

Cowboy swiveled his stool around to face her and tipped the brim of his hat with one finger so she got a better look at his face: the strong jaw, the slight stubble, and the most intense blue eyes she'd ever encountered.

Destiny had her first mini orgasm, and it felt so fucking great! This guy looked good enough to eat. She was going to enjoy corrupting him.

"What's a cowboy like you doing in a bar all alone?" Okay, that sounded pretty cheesy, but she was a little out of practice; she'd died in 1959.

"Waiting for a woman like you," he replied and again his words caressed her as his blue-eyed gaze drifted lazily down her body before returning to her face. Her nipples tightened.

The bartender set a beer in front of her. Cowboy dropped a few bills on the counter and the bartender left.

She grinned as she took the bottle, her tongue sliding nice and slow around the rim before she brought it the rest of the way to her lips. She tilted the bottle a little and ice-cold liquid slid down her throat. Nice. She'd missed the taste of alcohol.

"So, what's your handle, cowboy?" she asked after she lowered the bottle.

"Chance. Chance Bellew."

"Well, you've just met your destiny." She grinned. "Destiny Carter."

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ON A WHIM by Zenobia Renquist

Today on our Cyber Launch Party Blog we are celebrating a sexy new IR fantasy from Zenobia Renquist's (aka D. Renee Bagby)!

ON A WHIM by Zenobia Renquist

Guardian's Tales Book One

Mortals should beware the whims of gods.

Rosaline never thought she would find a meaningful relationship at an adult party for the denizens of the preternatural community. She came to have fun and flirt with danger while hiding behind the safety of the party's rules. And then she met Sebastian, a demi-god who demands all her attention and satisfies her every need.

Even though her head says it's nothing but pleasure between consenting adults with no strings attached, her heart is wondering if this fickle demi-god might actually want to be with her.

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Guardian's Tales: On a Whim
Zenobia Renquist
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Zenobia Renquist

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.
Her heart thundered in her chest. The deafening bu-bump drowned out all other noise. She knew the people staring at her could hear it. She only needed to do a quick introduction. Really quick. Open her mouth, spit it out, and it would be done. She really hated public speaking.

"My name is Rosaline, and I will be your server, voyeur, and touchstone this evening. Should you need any refreshments, food of any kind, or props please feel free to call on me. For those who like to be watched, I am happy to oblige." She swallowed a little before uttering the last, wondering desperately why she had to say it at all.

"My body is bared for you all to touch as you like, though you can only use your hands. There will be no scratching and nothing that is intended to cause pain. My pussy --" She almost stumbled saying the word. "-- and ass are open for fingering, but please know that I am an anal virgin."

She bowed her head, happy to have an excuse not to look at the crowd any longer. "Thank you for attending Guardian's soiree. I hope you enjoy your evening."

She, a human, was out of her mind telling a room full of preternatural beings from all walks of life what they could and could not do with her body. Most of them could break her with a flick of their pinky finger.

Beside her, Guardian laid her hand on Rosaline's bare shoulder. "Good girl."

Rosaline said, in a low voice though the audience could probably hear her, "I still don't understand why you couldn't tell them. They listen to you."

"You created those rules when you decided you wanted to attend. You have to tell them. They may be infinitely more powerful than you, but you are the one who has the right to say no.
What's more, they have to heed that." Guardian patted Rosaline's shoulder once more. "Now then. Time to be groped. Go mingle and do as you told them you would."

Rosaline's whole body flushed.

It was time. The thing she had been anticipating the whole week long had finally arrived. She took one step forward and felt her four-inch heels wobble a little before stabilizing. The heels were two inches higher than she liked, but her friends had insisted the fire-engine red stilettos made Rosaline's legs look hot.

That was a good thing, since she didn't feel the same way about the rest of her body. One month prior to even asking Guardian about attending the party as a server, Rosaline had spent every free moment exercising. Mornings she did cardio, she had a mini-stair stepper to use while at her desk, and she spent the evenings using the machines at the gym. She'd even put herself on a strict diet of green vegetables, fruit, and fish -- baked, not fried. All of it in hopes of looking good while standing in a room full of preternaturals whose naturally fast metabolisms kept them looking like swimsuit models for sports magazines with no effort.

All her work had paid off. She had dropped from a size ten to a size eight. She could fit a size six if she knew she wouldn't be bending and felt like holding her breath while sitting. But clothing size didn't matter that evening since she couldn't wear anything to cover her little flaws with the perfect outfit that showed off all her hard work. The attire of the evening consisted of heels and a matching collar sporting a coin that proclaimed the servers as Guardian's property. Guardian allowed the men to go barefoot, if they preferred, which most of them did.

Rosaline rubbed the coin as a way to calm her nerves.

Guardian's property.

That meant no one could run off with Rosaline without Guardian's permission. There were a few servers who didn't have the coin. They wanted someone to run off with them. Rosaline wasn't that brave or stupid. She wanted a little taste of the world she'd only glimpsed from behind her desk. After that, she would go back to her mundane life with a fond memory.

She continued forward into the crowd. Her whole body hummed with the awareness that any second someone would touch her bare skin. The touch could be brief or prolonged depending on the mood of the one touching her.

The first table she passed was a group of vampires watching two women and two men having sex on the tabletop. Only one woman at the table glanced Rosaline's way. Rosaline gave the woman a small smile, but the gesture wasn't reciprocated. The woman turned her attention back to the table's entertainment.

Rosaline passed by a group of shifted were-hyenas who seemed to be playing a highly sexualized version of monkey in the middle with the person in the middle of the group trying to avoid domination from those who entered the circle.

She stopped and watched.

One man entered the circle. He tried his attack but was soon on the receiving end of a very vigorous ass pounding. He managed to throw off the other male, who left the circle with a smug sounding, hissing laugh that reminded her of the cartoon villain dog from her childhood -- mutt-something or other. The male exiting the circle winked at Rosaline before turning his back on her so he faced the defeated.

A second entered the circle. A woman this time. She managed to overpower the male as well. Though when she flipped him on his back so she could avail herself of his dick, it didn't seem like much of a punishment for losing.

Rosaline shrugged, shook her head, and moved on. Like the two groups before, most everyone occupied themselves with their own distractions, pretty much ignoring her. That disappointed her more than a little. She had spent the whole day psyching herself up to being groped by a room full of strangers.

A quick glance around the room showed the other five servers were receiving the same treatment. Was this normal? Maybe the patrons of the party liked to play with each other before molesting the staff.

"Here, girl."

Rosaline looked around. Two men occupied a booth off in the corner of the room. The man with his hand raised had to be the one who had called out to her. She walked over to him with a smile. "You called for me, sir?"

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