Seawitch


Author: Kat Richardson

Greywalker #7

Publisher: Roc


Released:  August 7, 2012


REVIEW HERE


A current of green energy "water" tore at my legs and I crouched to make a smaller, denser target as I looked for the cause of the surge. The Grey looked strangely white here, like a day of unbroken, high, thin clouds reflecting the sun in directionless glare.  The harsh whiteness felt wet and cold and rippling curves of colored light rose in waves ahead of me.  t their core I saw flickers of amethyst light that stretched and receded as the waves drew and rushed toward me.  I plunged forward, diving into the approaching wave, and gripped the violet light.

It slipped from my hand like a fish and rushed away with one final flick that sent me head over heels through the suddenly becalmed Grey.  I fell toward the normal and tumbled backward over Solis.

He jumped aside with a yelp of alarm, one arm coming up as the other reached for one of my flailing hands and twisted it behind my back.  I didn't fight - even if it hadn't been Solis, I was too dizzy from the spinning transition to catch my balance.

Solis pushed me toward the wall by force of habit as if he were going to snap the cuffs on me, then realized what he was doing and let go.  I sagged forward, catching myself against the wall beside the door.  I gasped for breath and turned, leaning back against the nearest firm, upright surface.

Solis faced me, braced, his hands slightly raised as if he expected me to lunge at him, but wasn't sure I was actually dangerous as much as confused, like a holiday drunk.  His eyes weren't quite so wide, but his stance and expression were wary - no, alert, like a fighter waiting on the next move of an unpredictable opponent.  That was interesting ... He wasn't freaking out, though his aura was jumping wildly and the tension in his body spoke loudly of a willingness to meet his fears rather than run from them.

I caught my heaving breath and kept my hands where he could see them.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to fall over you like that," I said.

"Fall?" he repeated.  "Say more like flying, as if someone threw you.  What ... was that?"

I chewed on my words before I let them out.  "I ... sometimes have a little disagreements with... um, with reality.  And physics."  I offered a very thin, uncertain smile.  As far as I could recall, Solis had never seen me interact with the Grey before - I usually kept that aspect of my job hidden and most especially from him, though I new he thought I was strange and that strange things happened in my proximity.  Once or twice he'd even come close to accusing me of criminality - or at least lying through my teeth to cover up an unpalatable truth.

"So I see."  He seemed to be mulling over a few difficult thoughts of his own, but he didn't speak them.  He straightened up, letting his hands drop to his sides but still keeping a jaundiced eye on me.  Maybe he thought I was going to lunge at him again.  Then he asked, "Are you all right now?"  Which I interpreted as "Are you going to do anything else disturbing?"

I never plan to be disturbing... "I'm fine," I replied, trying to look innocuous and predictable.  "Thanks."

He turned his head a bit so he was looking at me from the corner of his eye- a posture I was familiar with from the many times I'd used it ot peer deeper into the Grey without falling in.  "How did you get past me?"

I shrugged.  "I'm slippery."

"Yes, and you are, as always, not telling me something."

I pulled a rueful face.  "Can I explain later?  Right now I just want to get alook at the problem and get out of here so I can change into dry clothes."

He nodded and opened the door, keeping one eye on me the whole time.

Nothing new came out, but the tide of Grey surged a bit, as if he'd opened a gate at the locks and let a gush of water through. I waited for it to calm before I stepped into the doorway, mentally bracing myself, and looked into the cabin.

Sweet Deception


Author: Heather Snow

Veiled Seduction #2

Publisher: Signet

Released:  August 7, 2012




REVIEW HERE


"You wrote to every magistrate in England?"

"It took weeks, but yes.  And most responded.  Many continue to send me reports quarterly.  It would be much simpler if England had a national system of crime reporting, as they do for births, deaths, mortality and such."

"Hmmm.  I'm sure the policy makers see no monetary gain to be had in such an endeavor."

She shrugged.  "They're wrong, of course.  If we can spot patterns amongst types of crimes, find out who is committing them and more importantly why, we can address those core problems to reduce crime  Which will have immense monetary benefits.  And all of those answers lie in the numbers."

He turned his startling green gaze on her.  "You were making some sense, Emma, but how can numbers tell you why a person committed a crime?"

A pleasant flush warmed her.  His interest invigorated her and she found herself relishing the challenge.  "Well, once I'd gathered the criminal statistics, I started comparing them to other numbers that are available nationally."  She ticked them off on the fingers of her left hand as she named them.  "Such as the number of inhabitants of an area per condemned person, the number of boys in primary school in that district, the type of industry and wealth in the area.  And I've seen some startling patterns."  She pointed to the map he was currently scanning and its array of blues and purples.  "See here?  Property crimes tend to happen in areas of higher education, for example, suggesting a more sophisticated criminal without the motivation of survival for his or her crimes."

Derick peered at the map, scanning the numbers jotted alongside.  "I'd have expected the exact opposite." 

"Exactly!"  Emma clasped Derick's upper arm with both of hers, pulling him along to the next map to the right, this one colored with reds, yellows and oranges.  How right it felt, having him beside her, showing him her passion.  "And it's not just who is committing the crimes that is of interest, but when they are committed.  For example, this map shows that crimes against persons occur most often during the summer months,.  Is it the heat?  Longer daylight hours?  Crimes against property tend to happen in the winter.  What could we do to combat those phenomena?"

She tugged him along to another one of greens, grays and golds before relinquishing her grasp on his arm.  "Other important factors are 'where' and 'how many.'  This map proves that both personal and property crimes occur not just in higher numbers in urban areas - as we would expect - but also in higher percentages per capita versus rural areas.  So what is it about city life that makes people more disposed to crime?  Is it geographical?  Are the moral variables?  And if so, can we make policies to address them?  Better education, religious instruction, improved diet - there's so much room for research.  And if I add in more variables - illegitimate births, for example, or age - "

"This is fascinating, Emma, but what is it you're hoping to accomplish with it all?"

She turned away from her maps and faced Derick.  Numbers and variables were all well and good, and she could talk them all day long.  That's what she understood.  But she wasn't nearly as proficient with people.  If her work was ever going to actually help mankind, she'd need someone like Derick to take her ideas and help her make others understand.  "Most people, policy makers in particular, simply assume it is the poor and uneducated who commit most crimes.  Yes, there is more crime amongst the lower orders, but statistically speaking, that's only true because there are more people amongst the lower orders.  When you look at the picture as a whole, crime mars all classes... the only difference is the type.  My research is proving that the way we look at crime and how to stop it is flawed.  We have to stop blaming the lack of proper breeding or bad blood, as some claim, and face the real issues."

Derick frowned at her.  She knew from their discussion last night that he might be on the other side of that argument.  still,m if she couldn't convince him, she'd have very little chance convincing anyone else.

"I believe all persons are born blank slates, and it is more the circumstances we are born into that shape who we become, the opportunities and examples we are given.  I intend to discover exactly what circumstances tend to breed what type of crime so we can figure out how to combat it.  We can change what becomes written on someone's slate.  Before they become criminals."

Derick's hand came up, his thumb and forefinger cradling her chin.  Energy crackled all around Emma, stilling her breath and tingling in forbidden places.  His eyes squinted slightly as an enigmatic half smile lifted his mouth.  "My little Pygmy," he murmured.  "Are you planning to save the world?"

"Yes," she whispered, caught in his gaze.  Her hand came up to grasp his wrist, and she absently stroked the soft inner skin with her thumb.  Something sad and cynical crept into his eyes, coloring the green - a shadow of the pain she'd glimpsed last night.  She wanted to banish it for him.  Something in her knew that even more than she wanted to make the lives of Britons better, she wanted to help heal Derick Aveline.  She reached her other hand to his face, cupping his jaw.  "Yes," she said again, aloud, more firmly than before.  "I am going to save the world."

And I'm going to start with you, her heart whispered.

She stretched up on her toes and pulled his lips to hers.

Blood Fever


Author: Veronica Wolff


The Watchers #3


Publisher:NAL Trade


Released:  August 7, 2012


REVIEW HERE

 I didn't even look at him.  I just said, "The girl who died climbing.  Acari Kate.  Why did she fall?"

"Pride goeth before a fall."

"Please, Carden.  I need to know - in English."  His nonanswer gave me the mental strength to angle my body to look at him, and I wished I hadn't.  He'd wrapped his arms around his bent legs, and his shirt tugged against his body, outlining ropes of lean muscle.  I looked down the beach, back to the scene of the accident.  "She climbed to the top and saw something.  It scared her enough to make her fall.  What did she see?"

"Only Acari Kate knows what awaited her at the top."  At my impatient look, he chuckled, but he continued.  "You've seen the mysteries this island hides.  What monsters lie in wait.  Not all are as brave as you in the face of danger."

Had she seen a Draug?  A vampire?  How many creatures were hiding out there, lying in wait?

He added nonchalantly, "I believe Acari Kate must have bonded with someone."

My eyes bugged open.  "Seriously?"

He shrugged.  "It would explain much."

"With who?"  I ran a mental catalog of all the vampires I'd seen on the island - the possibilities were endless.

"That, I do not know."

I remembered her mania, her recklessness.  "Was that why she was acting nuts?  Is that going to happen to me?"

"You're strong in mind and body.  This island has made you forget, but it is time for you to remember: Your fate is not beyond your control."

I flopped back on my hands, stretching my legs before me on the sand.  "I wouldn't be so sure."

"You must credit yourself.  This leg, for instance."  He smoothed his hand along my thigh.  "You've worked hard to carve muscle where once there was none."

My flesh grew hot, buzzing where he touched me.  "I... I thought we were suppose to stay away from each other."

"Ah."  He pulled his hand back.  "How quickly I forget.  You are still anxious to break the bond."

"I am," I said, sounding more sure than I felt.  "It is possible, right?  To become unbonded."

"Aye," he said.  "It's possible.  Difficult, but possible."

"And you think Acari Kate has bonded with a vampire?"

He shrugged.  "It would explain such rash behavior.  It's the blood fever.  Some who've bonded feel as beyond the reach of death as their vampire mates.  Other bond, and when they cannot feed again, they grown mad with their need."

Mad with need.  I had some experience with that.  I remember Kate's restless, fevered eyes.  Was that how I appeared?

Clouds scudded overhead, stealing light from the sky and warmth from my skin.  "You're saying my options are to stay bonded, be reckless, or go insane."

He gave me a sidewise look.  "I don't recall saying any of those things."

"You're giving me more nonanswers."

"On the contrary," he said.  "I've been more honest wand more forthcoming than anyone."

Even though the wind had whipped his words from me, they reverberated in my head.  Carden was right - he had  been honest with me, from the moment I'd met him in that dungeon.

I had to ask another question and I feared the answer.  "Will I become reckless?"

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked in a musing tone.  "There are two sorts of reckless are there not?  There is impulsive and there is brave - you must decide which you will be."

"Strong and brave," I whispered into the wind.  He'd told me I could be these things.

Then it hit me.  I didn't need some vampire to tell me - I knew in my heart already that I was these things.  Strength and guts - it was how I'd survived my childhood.

I became aware again of his body next to mine.  There was another sort of reckless, and the blood pounded beneath my skin to consider it.  Could I be the sort of woman who was strong enough to stay bonded with a vampire and remain sane?  To be brave enough to lean over and kiss her bonded vampire?  "So I can be whomever I want to be?"

"Are you so quick to think yourself incapable?  Do you accept Vampire superiority so willingly?"

"No," I answered at once.

He gave me a thoughtful look.  "Then why are you quick to doubt yourself?  Perhaps you are in control.  Maybe you have only to realize this."

How much was in my control?  The longer I stayed on this island, the more mysterious it became.  "The vampires have told us they want us here.  But why might they need us?"

Carden smiled.  "You ask a good question, pretty one.  You are strong, and the vampires recognize this strength.  Now you must recognize it, too."  He put a fingertip beneath my chin, ensuring I wouldn't turn away.  "You must recognize your power."

Why was he telling me this?  "You're a vampire.  Why help me?  Why be honest?"

"I was once a man.  As not all men are good, not all vampires are evil."

Blackhearted Betrayal


Author: Kasey Mackenzie

Shades of Fury #3

Publisher: Ace

Released: June 26, 2012

REVIEW HERE


Just then one of the last voices I wanted to hear at that moment drawled from the top of the stairs.  "Gee, how nice of you to call an emergency meeting without me.  And here I thought we were partners."

My heart sank, but I forced myself not to show it.  "Hey, Trin, thought you'd be home by now."

She seemed slightly out of breath, as if she hurried there from somewhere else.  Knowing her, that probably wasn't far off the truth.  "I was, but Kale and Mahina called me back fro an abduction case.  Some idiot pedophile snatched a half-Sidhe girl who looked about fourteen years old."

I winced.  "Mortal, of course."

"Of course.  An arcane perv would have known better.  The fourteen-year-old turned out to be closer to fifty; some vigilante who'd caught the creep snooping in her neighborhood and decided to make an example out of him.  Dude's still alive - barely -but his family's making noises about charging the girl with attempted murder."

I snickered.  "They're welcome to have his attorney explain to a jury exactly why he snatched and tried to molest an apparent fourteen-year-old."

"Yeah, exactly."

We'd reached the top of the stairs by then.  Her glance slid past me to Sahana, paused briefly upon Charlie, before turning back to me.  "Nice new threads."

I shifted uncomfortably, bracing for the knock-down, drag-out to come.  "Hey, Sahi, Charlie, mind waiting for us in my office? Mac should be there."

Trinity nodded, expression excruciatingly blank.  "He is."

They gave us measuring looks but didn't argue, clearing the stairwell landing and disappearing down the hall and leaving me to face someone who could be every bit as scary as my mother, mortal or not.  She didn't mince words, either.  "What the hell, Riss?  I've got to find out you called an emergency meeting behind my back by catching your little brother sneaking into your office?  I thought we were past your trying to protect me."

"I'm not -"

"Bullshit!"  She smacked the fire door so hard that the sound echoed up and down the stairwell.  "It always comes back to you thinking mortals can't pull their weight against arcanes.  Here I thought you trusted me enough to hold down the fort while you did your Fury thing, and you're back here checking up on me already - and in secret -"

"Jeez, Trin, would you shut up for a minute and lsiten?"  My exasperated tone and none-too-polite words had her doing just that.  The way her lips trembled in rage signaled it wouldn't last for long.  "I do trust you to look after things.  I'm not here to check up on you.  This has nothing to do with police business and everything to do with my Fury thing, as you so charmingly put it.  We're just meeting here because the fewer arcanes who see me in my new threads right now, the better."

"Oh."  Her voice grew really small, and her cheeks flushed.  "Um, sorry for jumping to conclusions.  It's just -"

I waved that off.  "I've given you reason to doubt in the past; I know that."

"So then, what's up with all the black?  Not that it isn't hot, but I thought - unlike your tats - Fury leather only came in one color."

"Usually.  With one exception.  I - right now I'm serving as a Nemesis."

She frowned.  "What, like your snake?"

"Same name, whole 'nother ballgame.  A Nemesis is like... kind of like a U.S. Marshal drafted by the gods to investigate and hunt down one of their number who has broken immortal law."  Trinity twitched at that.  How she could still claim to be an atheist after everything she'd seen and heard was beyond me.  "Just focus on the Marshal bit.  I'm tracking down a badass for my arcane superiors.  The new threads are temporary, and I'm on a deadline."

Liquid Lies


Author: Hanna Martine

The Elementals #1

Publisher: Berkley 

Released: July 3, 2012

REVIEW HERE


He leaned in, so close his breath ruffled the hair next to her ear.  "What's your name?"

The rest of the bar dropped away like a trapdoor.

She turned her head just enough to make out the details of his tattoo.  Leaf- and thorn-covered vines twisted around this neck, the tip of the last leaf resting just below his earlobe.  She clenched her fingers, resisting the urge to touch it.  To touch him.

Her voice came out in shaky threads.  "Gwen."

She felt him smile.  "Gwen.  I'm Reed."

Reed nudged her hair with his nose, inhaling.  "Tell me more about this Ed Ruscha guy."

She chuckled low.  "are you serious?  Now?"

The hand on the back of her chair dropped to her knee.  Palm covering the top of her boot.  Thumb on her thigh.  Fingertips dancing like snowflakes at the edge of her skirt hem.  She stopped breathing.

"Actually, no."  Chin stubble scraped just below her ear.

She forced herself to inhale.  "Good.  Because I can't think."

Reed pulled back enough for her to see his face again.  "I really did think out you today.  I wondered if what I'd felt this morning was wrong.  Misplaced."

"I thought about you, too."  For different reasons, but those didn't seem to matter anymore.

"Good.  I'm glad to hear that."

"Where are you staying?"  It slipped out before she could stop it.  She couldn't take it back, and she realized she didn't' want to.

His expression turned heated.  "The Four Seasons.  Just for tonight."

"I hear that's nice."  And expensive.  And a quick cab ride away.

"It is." He licked his lips.  "Would you like to see it?"

His voice thrummed deep bass chords in her ears, sending quivers straight to her legs.  He tightened his grip on her thigh, and she watched him react to her reaction.

She'd never wanted to be naked more in her entire life.

This was it.  The one pass granted to her by the Allure.  Forgiven only if it was temporary.  She knew for a fact that Griffin had slept with a Primary a few months ago, before they'd heard the rumblings in the Board about their match.  He didn't know she knew and there was no reason to confront him about it.  Had it been just sex to Griffin?  Or had he connected with that woman in the way Gwen connected with Reed?

No, she would not go there.  It would only be sex for her, too.  And by the firm, gentle way Reed touched her now, she knew it would be good sex.

"Yes," she whispered.  "I'd like to see your room."

The smile he gave her was positively feral.

Vaguely, she heard the door to the bar opening, followed by the tickle of cool air on her back. Reed's gaze flicked over her shoulder.  The lust in his eyes and the promise in the curve of his mouth vanished.  Whatever he saw pulled down a cold, hard wall between them.

The speed with which he went from seductive to nonchalant made her gasp.  When he removed his hand from her thigh, it was like taking away a blanket in the dead of winter.

"The people I'm supposed to meet are here.  Won't take a minute.  Will you wait for me?"

She nodded numbly.

He stood.  "Told you I wasn't lying."

Live and Let Drood

Author: Simon R. Green

Secret Histories #6

Publisher: Roc

Released: June 5, 2012

REVIEW HERE

"Things just get better all the time," said Molly.  "So, what now?"

"We need answers," I said.  "We need hard information as to exactly what went down here and who was behind it.  Someone out there will know.  Someone always knows.  But where do we go to ask?  Time was, we'd have just dropped into the Wulfshead Club, that celebrated supernatural water hole, paid for a round for the house, and they'd have been lining up to tell us everything we needed to know.  But I'm pretty sure I'm persona non grata there, after the ... recent unpleasantness."

"You mean when you completely lost control, beat up everyone who got in your way and half killed your old friend the Indigo Spirit?" said Molly.  "Oh, hell, yes, Eddie.  They're still talking about that, and not in a good way. You are banned from the Wulfshead for life, Eddie Drood and possibly even longer than that."

"But that's just Eddie Drood," I said, craftily.  "I could still sneak in as Shaman Bond, couldn't I?"

"I wouldn't," said Molly.  "I really wouldn't.  Take it from me: That boat has sailed.  Far too many people in that place now know Eddie and Shaman are the same man.  No one's actually given you up yet, but you can bet good money there'd be a race to drop you right in it if you were to push your luck.  Give them time to calm down, and they might let you back in as Shaman.  But right now the very least they'd do is set the hellhounds on you and blow your secret identity right out of the water."

"But they will calm down?" I said.  "Eventually?"

"Who can say?"

I looked at her thoughtfully.  "You could always..."

"No, I couldn't," said Molly.  "I'm banned, as well, just for knowing you."

"Ah," I said.  "Sorry about that."

"Don't be!  I'm not.  Never cared much for the Wulfshead, anyway.  Bit too elevated for my tastes.  And it's gone so upmarket these days... so up itself it's practically staring out its own nostrils.  And the bar prices suck big-time."

I smiled.  Molly can be very loyal in her own way. 

Blazing the Trail

Author: Deborah Cooke

The Dragon Diaries (Trilogy) #3

Publisher: NAL Trade

Released: June 5, 2012

REVIEW HERE


So, I was in a pretty crap mood when I got to English class late, one that was not improved by Derek glowering at me from the back of the room when I entered.  I could feel his gaze boring into the back of my skull throughout the whole class, and he was ticked enough to not know the answer when he was called on.

I think that had to be a first.  I hoped he'd be mad enough to ignore me afterward, but no luck; he followed me out of class and back to my Muriel check.

I was really not interested in getting chewed out, but Derek's heightened sense of smell apparently wasn't' sharp enough to pick up on that.

Or else he didn't care.

"So, what was that all about?" he demanded in his growly undertone.  "Where did you go?  And why were you in Trevor's car?"

"You saw that?"

"I had a feeling.  I turned back to find you."  He glared at me.  "I saw you leave, but I couldn't catch up with you."  His tone turned fierce.  "You never should have gone anywhere with him.  You know he's dangerous."

"He told me that Adrian had been eating shifter shadows.  I went with him to try to stop Adrian."  It seemed like a good idea not to mention - yet - that I'd completely, totally, and utterly failed in that goal.  I marched down the hallway and he walked beside me.

"Alone?  Dumb Zoe.  Dumb."

That stung, because it had been dumb.  It woul dhave bene nice for him to have had some confidence in me, though.  "I told Meagan."

"Well, you didn't tell me."

I strode onward.  I hadn't exactly had time to update everyone on the planet on my situation.

"We're a team," he said with force.  "We have an alliance, in case you've forgotten.  We're supposed to work together but you acted alone."  I guess the fact that I didn't immediately defend myself made him even more angry, because he took a deep breath and a step back.  "If you got yourself in danger, you deserved it."

Deserved it?  I was with him until those last two words.

"Excuse me?"  I halted in the hallway and spun to face him.  I didn't care who saw me and I didn't care what my eyes did.  I was feeling the need to breathe some fire.

"I deserved to be spellbound?"  I demanded in an undertone.  "I deserved to be cornered and nearly sacrificed to the ShadowEaters?  Is that really what you think?  Just because I didn't tell you what I was doing, I should die?

Derek, to his credit, looked shocked.  His eyes widened as he surveyed me.  It was a bit late, to my thinking, to worry about the details.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes," I hissed with force.  "The ShadowEaters are free.  I tried to stop Trevor and Adrian, but I failed.  Not only that, but they're hungry and they've already killed someone by eating his shadow."

Derek paled.

"Plus Adrian has become one."

 Hunting Kat

Author: P.J. Schnyder

The Triton Experiment #1

Publisher: Carina Press

Released: July 4, 2011


REVIEW HERE

A new commotion started at the entryway.  Even the techo-geeks in the corner stirred from their hologame to peek over the booth and get a good look.

Mercs and servicemen alike fell like downed logs.  It took a minute for Rygard to see what cleared a path through the minefield of fighting men, and when he did, he wondered if he'd had one drink too many.

Lightning quick, a little package of curves dodged a drunken punch, grabbed the merc's arm and used his momentum to send him over a table.  She brushed dark waves of hair out of her eyes before planting a hand in a serviceman's back, helping him into a pile of his friends.  Two other servicemen focused enough to rush her, but crouching low she delivered a powerful leg sweep.  A sharp elbow to the sternum rendered each of the out of commission.  Straightening, she continued her course, heading directly for Syn and the bar.  By the time she made it, unconscious and groaning men lay in her wake.  Her left hook was a thing of beauty, and she had a wicked right slanted kick.

The heat of her feral glare seared through Rygard as she passed, moving on when he didn't offer any threat.  Had he ever seen such a deep blue before?  She chose the very last stool, sitting with her back to the wall.  When she ordered a scotch, he thought he'd died and found the perfect angel.

Syn placed a glass of amber in front of her.  "On the house.  You saved me the trouble of calling security."

Rygard chuckled.  Men picked themselves up off the floor and it seemed they'd forgotten the whirlwind who had passed through them.  A wonderfully mind-numbing thing, alcohol.  They probably wouldn't want to remember they'd gotten their asses handed to them by a pint-sized explosions of sexy anyway.

Well, maybe they would.

He watcher her swirl her scotch, inhaling slowly before taking a long sip.  When she set the glass down, it became obvious she would need a refill in short order.

Without lifting her face, she glanced up, her fierce gaze locking on him through a dark veil of thick, long lashes.  He realized he'd better say something or she might take offense at his regard.

Lifting his drink, he nodded.  "Mind if I buy you another?"

Kaitlyn studied the man for a beat before the question popped out.  "Why?"

Not what he'd been expecting, probably, because he blinked, caught without a response.  The light from the bar top caught gold highlights in the man's hazel eyes.  Not a pretty boy, which won him points in her book, his features too strong for the beautiful boy toy look and his build too massive.  Terran military, by uniform.  Skuld would call him ruggedly handsome, with the stubble across his jaw and barely regulation haircut.

He shrugged.  "You look like you could use one, or more."

True.  Before she could answer, he left his stool and walked toward her.  A fighter, and a fast one, despite the bulk suggested by his expansive chest and shoulders.  She didn't mistake the potential in the way he moved.  Unlike the rest of the males in the room, he wasn't inebriated to the point of slowed reaction time.

He also seemed aware of her assessment, holding his hands out to his sides in a sign of not threat as he sat on the stool net to her.  His gaze never left hers.  The challenge he offered had nothing to do with a fight and everything to do with her.

"Maybe."  She couldn't think of anything else to say.

He smiled, the flash of white almost predatory.  "Maybe usually means yes."

"Maybe means maybe," she snapped.  She didn't like word games.

Dark eyebrows shot up and those hands opened wide again.  "Okay, maybe."  He shifted to lean on the bar, not closer to her but not father away either.  "Let me know when maybe turns into a yes or a no."

Hunting the Shadows


Author: Alexia Reed

Shadows Ops #1

Publisher: Carina Press

Released: May 7, 2012

REVIEW HERE 





He was going to get himself killed.

Amy lost sight of J.C. as he'd taken off, leaving her to wait for his return.  Gunshots echoed in the distance, loud blasts that shook the air, punctuated by long silences.  In the back of her mind, she knew she should stay still.  But J.C. was out there alone with no one watching his back.

Pressing herself flat to the ground, she crawled from the brush, thorns tearing at her clothes and scratching her skin.  She scanned the treetops, searching for darkened shapes that could be the shooter.  Finding none, she maneuvered slowly over the terrain, keeping her eyes open for signs of movement.  The narrow path split into an open area as the tree line receded.

Amy edged toward a wall of rock, keeping low.  There was the sense of something up ahead, the feeling of something not quite right.  Wariness twisted with instinct, making her pulse race.

Gunshots broke the silence.

She pushed back the panic of being watched.  If only she could figure out the direction of the threat.  Her hand dropped to her wrist, down along the leather band and hesitated. 

Did she want to risk it?

Turning slowly, she looked back to the trees.  Unsnapping the band, she slipped it into her pocket.  The moment it fell from her wrist, voices spilled inside.  Her mouth went dry, her body tense with the urge to turn and run.  The only thing that stopped her was the knowledge that there was a weapon trained on her.

Malicious energy poured over her, a thick black wave that smothered her.  She dashed off, intending to get out of sight, but she couldn't escape from it.  No matter where she went, where she hid, she couldn't get away.  Bullets tore into the ground and she threw herself into the darkness of a small cavern.  Small chunks of rock flew at her, cutting her cheek.

"Goddamn it, Amy.  I told you to stay put."

"There are three of them," she snapped, keeping her eyes trained on the entrance.  She pressed back, plastering herself against the wall.  "If I'd stayed put, they would have found me.  I'm holed up, but one of the shooters is pinning me in here."

"I know."  He paused.  "Stay where you are and this time I mean it.  I'll get to you as soon as I can."

She stepped forward carefully to peer around the protection of rock.  If she could get a sense of movement outside, she could figure out what to do next.  Bullets ripped dirt and more rock from the wall and she ducked her head back inside with a short, cut off scream.

The air thickened, growing heavier.  "I don't exactly have any other choice.  What's going on?  Why are they shooting at us?"

The shooters were out there for her.  She could hear their thoughts and lifting her hands, pressed her fingertips to her temples.  Nothing softened the voices, their thoughts completely trained on killing her.  Sweat rolled down her back.  The need to do somethign tightened her muscles but she flattened herself back.

"The bitch is somewhere inside the cave-" Amy couldn't help but listen as the thought ripped through her mind.  She cringed at the sound of branches snapping under heavy feet.  The shadow that filled the cave entrance was large, the assailant's eyes staring straight through her.  She shot a glance at the gun he held and tried to press deeper into the darkness.

There wasn't anywhere to go.

Her heart raced in her chest, adrenaline pumping at dangerous levels, heightening her sense.  "Leave me along."

His finger stroked the trigger.

She held her breath.

"I said leave me alone!"

She watched his eyes widen at her voice in his head.  Before he could recover, she shoved the rest of the way into his mind, shredding his shields like they were paper.

Visions of Chains

Author: Regan Hastings

Awakening Novel #3

Publisher: Signet

Released: June 5, 2012

REVIEW HERE



"The bullet's still in her shoulder, Finn."  The man who'd called Deidre "bitch" spoke softly.  "We've gotta get it out."

"Deidre will get it out, Mike."

"Me?" She turned her head around to look up at him.  "She needs a doctor."

"No," Shauna muttered.  "No doctors.  Have to report bullet wounds.  Might as well take me straight to jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred dollars."

"Damn it, Shauna, this isn't a game."  Deidre glared at her friend, then softened her tone because she'd already been shot.  SHe didn't need to be yelled at.  "You need a transfusion and antibiotics."

"We've got emergency medical equipment here," Joe said, walking up to stand alongside Finn.  "We take care of our own."

"Just one big crazy family, how nice," Deidre snapped.

"You can get the bullet out, Deidre," Finn told her, going down on his haunches.  He met her gaze an said, "Use your magic.  Pull the metal from her shoulder.  It will be less invasive than one of us using forceps to dig around in her flesh."

"Oh, God," Shauna moaned.

Deidre swallowed hard at that image and knew she'd have to try.  She couldn't let Shauna suffer even more pain.  Not if she could help it.  "Fine.  Just tell me what to do."

"You already know," Finn said.  "Just do what you did outside.  Direct your power with your mind."

"This is crazy," Mike muttered.  "Just because she can throw guns doesn't mean she -"

Finn shot him a look that had the man shutting up fast.  Deidre didn't blame him.  Even with his features calm and blank, Finn was intimidating.  A look of fury from him was bound to strike fear into the heart of anybody with a brain.

"Okay, just ... back off," she said, looking at all of them in turn.  "Shauna, I'm going to try to get the bullet out, okay?"

"Do it, Dee."  She closed her eyes, and bit down hard on her bottom lip.

Hands sweaty, throat dry as dust, Deidre was half afraid she would have that meltdown she'd been joking about a few minutes ago.  But like Finn had pointed out, there was no time for it now.  She'd do that later.  Indulge in a rant or a crying fit and then she'd demand some answers from the man kneeling right beside her.

Taking a deep breath, she laid her hands over Shauna's wound and felt the cold stickiness of congealing blood against her palms.  She tried not to think about the fact that it was her friend's blood and instead concentrated on calling up that sparkling sense of power she had felt earlier. 

She thought it would be hard.

It wasn't.

As soon as she reached for it, her magic was there.  As if it had been hidden away in a locked chest for years and now was just eager to be used.   To be needed.  She smiled to herself as the shimmer of something wondrous spread from her heart, down her arms to her hands and then to her fingertips.  Focusing on the shape and size of the bullet within her friend's body, Deidre pulled on it with her mind.

She felt it move.  Felt it sliding from tissue and muscle to edge past bone.  While Shauna whimpered, Deidre concentrated, calling it forth, drawing on her magic, on the amazing thing she was doing until-

The bullet popped free and landed in Deidre's palm.  It glittered in the candlelight, a shiny, blood-streaked brass piece of metal, smashed at the tip from its contact with Shauna's body.  Astounding that something so small could do so much damage.

"Good job," Joe said and edged her out of the way. "I'll take over now."

He motioned to Mike to break open the medical supplies and then spared a smile for Shauna.  "I'll have you stitched up in no time, cutie."

"Oh, God," Shauna moaned.  "I've seen how you sew."

"Everybody's a critic..."

 Vengeance Moon  

Author: Lee Roland

Novel of the Earth Witches #2

Publisher: Signet

Released: June 5, 2012

REVIEW HERE 


I rode the bus wasn't crowded, only a couple of older women and a woman holding a baby.  A little boy sat on the seat beside her.  I sat behind them on a worn brown vinyl seat with bits of foam thrusting from the separating seams.

I watched the passing shops as they began the decline into blight and wondered what it would be like to live here.  A miserable foul-smelling jail cell in New York and the silent halls of Justice had been forced upon me by my own carelessness.  But my original home was suburbia, a bright sunny house behind the shop where my mother practiced her gentle magic and sold handmade soaps, oils, and earth-centered jewelry.  Daddy's restaurant was next door.  I could picture living nowhere else, at least not by choice. 

The little boy turned to watch me.  children often start at me, at the scar.  They are usually guileless little creatures, innocent of the tyranny of good manners.  This boy was different.  Something troubled him, and his face was as solemn as a mourner at a funeral.  His dark eyes held questions. He slipped out of the seat and came toward me.  I judged him to be about six.  His clothes were clean ut worn. He stood in the aisle and leaned toward me like a conspirator.

"Did your daddy hurt you?" he asked softly.  "Your face."

"My daddy?"  I hid my surprise with a smile.  "No.  It was an accident."

His eyes darted around.  "My daddy hurt  me."

He lifted his shirt.  My mouth dropped open.  Burns.  Round cigarette burns, and ... shit, the monster had heated a knife blade and laid it to this innocent child's tender skin.  I touched it gently with my fingers as if I smooth it away.  It felt hot and fevered, as if had occurred only moments ago.

The woman holding the baby realized the boy had left her.  She turned to face me.  I guess she saw the horror on my face.

"I left the bastard," she said.  Desperation filled her voice.  I think she felt the need to explain that she was a good mother.  "They arrested him," she went on, "but he made bail.  I have a restraining order, but I think he has people watching me.  I should be down here where he is, but I wanted to see my mother.  She's been sick."

I nodded.  I grasped the boy's shirt and slid it down to cover the scars.  I'd seen some of the girls at Justice who had been brutalized like him before they arrived.  I kissed him on the forehead.  He smiled and went back to his mother.   

The bus stopped for another passenger.  I didn't pay attention until the little boy rushed by me toward the back of the bus.  The high-pitched keening sound coming from him was of purest terror.  He tripped and scrabbled along the floor to crawl under one of the seats behind me, still wailing in mindless panic.

The source of that panic stalked down the aisle toward us, grinning like a demon that had found something to kill.  He wore a dirty white T-shirt over low-cut jeans.  Several chains hung around his neck, and one thick set of links held a devil's head - obviously some gang affiliation.

He stopped and towered over the woman.  He snatched at the baby.  She tried to turn and hunch over it to protect it. 

"What are you doing here?" she screamed.  I guessed he'd been following her since she boarded the bus.  Probably had his friends keeping tabs on her.

"Gimme that little bastard.  It ain't mine, so it belongs in the trash."

Oh, no.  This wouldn't happen on my watch.  I hadn't spent years training to ignore a bloodthirsty animal like this one.  Excitement rose in me.  Only two days from Justice and I'd missed my daily exercise in violence.  I wanted to do this.

I stood. 

"Hey, asshole."  I got his attention in my usual delicate way.

 Dark Frost


Author: Jennifer Estep

Mythos Academy #3

Publisher: Kensington Publishing

Released: May 29, 2012

REVIEW HERE 


Despite my brisk pace, the winter chill continued to creep through my clothes and seep into my bones.  I'd just turned around to head back to my warm dorm room when a low growl sounded.  

I froze, suddenly colder than ever before, wondering if I'd only imagined the sound - and really, really hoping I had.  In my experience, growls were never, ever good.  Growls usually meant that large, scary creatures like Nemean prowlers were lurking around and intent on tearing into me with their teeth and claws.  I was so not fond of the oversize, black panthers-like creatures - especially since the Reapers trained them to be deadly, kitty-cat assassins.

The growl rippled through the air again, shattering any hope I'd had of it's just being my imagination or my Gypsy gift gone wild.  I slowly turned my head to the right - and saw the Fenrir wolf.

The Fenrir wolf was hunkered down in a pile of leaves on the other side of the gate I was standing in front of.  The creature was even longer than I was tall, with a thick, powerful body and razor-sharp teeth and claws to match.  Its fur wasn't quite black, but more like the dark, deep smoky color of ashes. The shaggy coat helped it blend in with the shadows cast by the towering trees.  The last time I'd seen a Fenrir wolf, I'd noticed that its fur had crimson strands glistening in it, but I didn't see any in this creature's coat.  Its eyes were a rusty red, although the color was far dimmer than I remembered it being and without the creepy burning glow that had told me just how much the wolf had wanted to gobble me up.

My gaze roamed over the creature, and my eyes caught on its ear.  A small V was grooved into the wolf's right ear, and I knew it was my wolf after all.  The one I'd met at the ski resort, the one that had kept me from freezing to death after we'd both been caught in the avalanche Preston had set off.  The wolf had gotten the V-shaped scar that day.

"Um, puppy?"  I asked in a tentative voice, since that was all I'd ever called the wolf.  "Is that really you?" 

At the sound of my voice, the Fenrir wolf sprang to its feet, and its muzzle creased back into what looked like a - a smile.  Okay, that was a little creepy.  Usually, mythological creatures weren't any happier to see me than I was to notice them stalking me and licking their chops at the thought of sinking their teeth into my body.  But the wolf actually seemed glad I'd noticed it, like - like it had been waiting here for me to walk by.

 The wolf let out a soft whine and crept closer to the gate, making the leaves crackle underneath its enormous body.  I walked over to the iron bars.  I hesitated, then stretched my hand out through one of the gaps.  The wolf paced back and forth for a few seconds before heading towards me and shoving its head underneath my hand.


As soon as my fingers brushed its fur, images of the wolf began to fill my mind.  Flashes of the crushing avalanche that had almost buried us both, then one of the branch that had pierced the creature's leg and of me shoving the sharp wood out so the wolf could walk again, even a memory of me facing down Preston and the wolf spoiling the Reaper's aim when Preston had tried to kill me with a crossbow.


More images zipped through my mind, of snow and trees and the wolf running through the forest, along with the creature's feelngs.  There was only one emotion, really - happiness.  Pure, fierce, intense happiness that it was finally free of the Reapers who had caged it, hurt it, tortured it for so long.  Tears burned my eyes at the intensity and depth of the wolf's elation.


Then, the image of another wolf popped into my head, a second Fenrir wolf, although this one didn't have the Reaper red tint to its gaze or fur.  It must be one of the wild Fenrir wolves that Metis had told me about, the ones who lived deep in the mountains and were rarely seen by members of the Pantheon.  At first, my wolf was cautious around this other creature, bur soon, the two of them were hunting through the snow together.  Playing, mock fighting, even snuggling together.


For the first time, I realized my wolf was actually a she, and I also got the sense that it - no, she- wanted me to help her.


"I don't understand," I murmured, opening my eyes and staring at the wolf.  "Why are you here?  Why did you leave your mate?  You were so happy with him.  What could you possibly want here with me?"


The wolf let out a little snort, like she couldn't believe I was so dense.  Kind of sad when a mythological creature thought it was smarter than you.  The wolf pulled away and walked back and forth in front of the gate, almost like she was parading around for me.  I started at the creature, wondering what she was doing, what she was trying to show me.


After a few seconds, I realized the wolf was much fatter than I remembered her being before - especially around the middle.  I reached out and put my hand on the creature's stomach.  It took a second, but another little flicker filled my mind, another little spark that told me the wolf wasn't exactly by herself anymore.


"Oh," I said.  "Oh.  You're going to have a baby puppy... or whatever."


I didn't know how much of my words the wolf understood, but she almost seemed to nod her head, like Finally, the silly mortal girl understands what I'm trying to tell her.

 Lies & Omens
 

Author: Lyn Benedict

Shadow Inquiries #4

Publisher: Ace

Released: 24 April 2012

REVIEW HERE



 Sylvie got halfway down the hall - now, a winding stone tube that looked like it had been bored by a giant serpent - and paused, her first exhilaration fading.  Erinya was a double-edged sword.  She could find Demalion, but finding Demalion also meant finding the Good Sisters.  Sylvie didn't want Erinya anywhere near them.  Erinya hated witches enough that nothing else mattered to her once she was hunting.  The airport was proof of that.

Tackling the world's most malevolent and largest coven might be a lot to handle, but Sylvie thought she was capable of it.  With Zoe at her side, with Demalion scouting the way.  Even with Marah, should she be inclined to lend her bloody talents.  Erinya ... she might take out Sylvie's allies while going after the witches, leaving Sylvie attempting to stop the witches and minimizing Erinya's massive wave of death and destruction.

Sylvie U-turned, went back toward the sound of running water, and stepped inside the changed bathroom.  Zoe, sitting in a small pond beneath another waterfall, jerked, and said, "What?  You can't tell me I'm using all the hot water, because I don't think there is any.  Or, apparently, any privacy."  SHe sank lower in the water.

"Sorry," Sylvie said.  She crouched down near the pool, said, "Look.  I need your help.  I need you to do something for me."

"Right now?"

Sylvie had to grin.  "No.  When you've cleaned up to your satifaction, found fresh clothing, maybe had a latte."

"There was no coffeepot - "

"Just ask Alex for one," Sylvie said.  "The thing is I need Erinya distracted.  You're a witch.  You're about the biggest distraction I've got.  Sure as hell the only one I trust."

"No," Zoe siad.  "She squished Merrow."

"She won't squish you," Sylvie said.

"You're sure?  I mean, really sure.  Mom would be so pissed if you got me squished."

"She hesitated to kill Marah on the grounds of being family, and she's not even close.  You should be fine."

"Marah?  The ISI agent that the witches were tracking?"

"Is that how they found Demalion - never mind, answer's obvious.  Yeah.  Marah.  The point being, she actively tried to kill Erinya, and Erinya didn't turn her into chunks.  But... don't try to kill Erinya.  Just to be safe."

"Why am I doing this?" Zoe said.  "What re you going to be doing?"

"Ostensibly, taking my own shower," Sylvie said.  "I need some private space to talk to someone she doesn't like.  I want her distracted so she doesn't notice his arrival."

"Who?"

"No names," Sylvie said.  "At least, not until Erinya's distracted."

"This is important?"

"Yeah, Zo.  It is.  I don't know if you've noticed, but Eri's out of control."

"And you think provoking her will help keep her under control?  Sounds sketchy.  I mean, I'll do it.  But this had better work."

"It's a total gamble."

Zoe grimaced.  "Great.  Hand me a towel."

"Where-"

"They're growing from that tree."

"Ah, so they are," Sylvie said.  She wondered when she was going to stop feeling that dull shock of surprise.  Probably around the same time her low-grade discomfort faded.  Too much power in the air for the Lilith's blood in her veins.  All this loose magic.  It set her teeth on edge.

"Towel?"

Sylvie tossed her one and headed out.  Val's mansion had six bathrooms last count.  Sylvie wanted to find one as far from Erinya as she could get.

The guest room where she'd stayed with Demalion was at the back of the house, and Sylvie aimed for that with good results.  Found it and its attached bath both empty, and more pleasingly, not completely changed over to Erinya's world yet.  The bathroom still had a shower, still had recognizable dials amidst the twining vines.  She turned on the water, stripped down, figuring she might as well get in a shower before she had to use a waterfall, and closed her eyes.  She listened for magic, listened for any shivering sense that Erinya was approaching and, instead, got a sudden screech of outrage. 

Zoe had distracted Erinya successfully, it seemed.

Heart of Brass

Author: Kate Cross

Novel of the Clockwork Agents #1

Publisher: Signet

Released: 1 May 2012

REVIEW HERE



A shadow moved across the alley as the lazy fingers of a wet dawn slowly crept in.  Arden glanced up, excepting to see Inspector Grant.

Instead she saw a dirty man in need of a shave and a dentist.  Her heart stopped at the sight of him.  She knew him.  She had seen him just a few moments ago through the prostitute's eyes.

Frantically, she groped for the pistol she always carried in her bag.  The killer came at her fast.  For a second she was too terrified to scream, her mind flashing through the gruesome catalog the woman's eye had given her.  Her normal calm, or facsimile of it, disintegrated like sugar into tea as his filthy hands reached for her.  She opened her mouth...

There was a snap, and the killer crumpled to the ground beside his victim, his head turned at an impossible angle, sightless eyes bulging and wide.

She might have felt relief if she hadn't looked up and met her husband's bright gaze.

There were few people who could manage to look imposing and dangerous - and altogether too gorgeous - when dripping wet, but Lucas was one of them.

Inky hair fell over his forehead as water trickled down the lean planes of his face.  Shadows deepened the lines around his eyes and mouth, made the grim smile on his lips all the more frightening.

Rain poured off the long leather coat that hung from the strong breadth of his shoulders - exaggerated by the leanness of the rest of his frame.  He crouched before her, paying no attention to the body of the prostitute or the man he had just killed with the apparent ease of swatting a bug.

"What is it about you that makes people want you dead?" he asked, eyes glinting unnaturally bright in the gray morning.

Arden's fingers closed around the pistol in her bag.  Now that the first threat to her safety was gone, she wasn't about to let this one get the better of her.  "Part of my charm, I suppose."  He chuckled and she added, "Why didn't you let him?  He would have done the job for you."

His gaze locked with hers, and what she saw there sent a shiver down her spine.  "You're mine," he growled.

"Yours to kill, you mean."  It was tempting to let him do it.  She didn't want to die, but he thought of him being able to kill her ... Well, what was the point of going on when so much of her life had been about him and he was lost forever?

She needed a drink, or perhaps a good slap.

His hand came up, and she fought a flinch.  Instead of grabbing her already bruised throat, he cupped her cheek.  She had the pistol out of the bag.

"Are you going to shoot me?" he asked with a smile, fingers rough against her skin.  "Do you think a bullet can stop me?"

Arden placed the end of the barrel against the underside of his chin.  "I doubt they thought to armor you here."

He grinned, white teeth flashing in the fading gloom.  "That's my girl."

She froze, gaze searching his face for some sign of recognition.  "How do you know I'm your girl?"

His grin faded, the light in his eyes turned to ice.  He dropped his hand to her neck, but instead of squeezing, he gently stroked the tender and battered skin.  "I don't know.  But you are, aren't you?"

God, it hurt to swallow; her throat was so tight - a condition that had nothing to do with the strength of his touch, but rather the gentleness of it.  "Yes," she whispered, but did not move the pistol.

His brows dipped.  "Why can't I kill you? I remember ... I know I've tried to do this before, but failed.  I resolved to do it, but when I'm with you, killing you is the last thing I want to do."

The suggestive timbre of his voice ignited a flame inside her.  It had been so long, but intimately she remembered all the times he had spoken to her in that tone - and what generally followed.

Kiss of the Goblin Prince

Author: Shona Husk

Shadowlands Trilogy #2

Publisher: Sourcebooks

Released: May 1, 2012

REVIEW HERE

 Instead of going straight back he delayed a little longer and went to the park where he'd seen a dying tree.  Over the past couple of days as he walked he'd tried to look beyond what everyone else saw and into the way everything was constructed.  If he used the magical sight for too long, it made his head ache.  But he was willing to risk it today.

He needed to know if he could heal the tree... and then maybe himself.

Dai took a seat on a bench covered in symbols he was unfamiliar with, then took a breath and let his vision slip.  He tried to focus on the threads that wove tightly together to make up the tree, but his mind wasn't truly on the magic.  It kept drifting back to the few moments he'd held Amanda.

He glanced at his hand, seeing more than just skin lined with faint scars.  He saw the magical construct of his body and the golden strands that linked him to Amanda.  He wasn't imagining her interest.  This was the proof - not that he'd be able to explain it to anyone.

If he had his books on magic, healing the tree would've been easy.  He ignored the doubts that rose about fixing his own scars; healing was a fine art for even the simplest of cases and his damage was far from simple.  He rolled his shoulders, but the tightness remained.

Tree first.  If he killed it, it didn't matter as it was dying anyway.  If he healed it... well, he'd be one step closer.  He was tired of waiting for Birch Trustees to finish their examination of his library.  He and his brother had stashed much of their horde there over the centuries.  The secret bank was known for handling... unusual... requests with discretion.  For the most part Birch had been nothing but helpful since he and his brother had broken free and become human.  The bank had transferred their gold and silver and gems into regular human bank accounts, then supplied fake IDs all round.  They had eased what could've been an impossible transition.

At first glance there was nothing to distinguish him from any other man in the Fixed Realm... except he'd outlived Rome and knew magic was real.  With the sight he looked at the web of lines that made up his hand as he flexed his fingers.  Oh yeah, he was a regular twenty-first century man.

And he was finally able to put into practice the things he'd studied but had been unable to do as a goblin.  He didn't need to touch the tree.  He could see how the fibers of the truck were snagged and twisted, cutting off the life that pumped through the earth and eddied around its roots.  From his training he knew it was possible to heal the damage; whether he could do it was another question.

The risk of failing held him motionless.  He'd spent too much time studying instead of acting.  He'd waited so long to be rid of the curse, and before that he'd been fighting to be free of the bloody Romans.  He wanted a life, now.

He forced himself to act.  His fingers twitched against his leg as he imagined smoothing the strands of magic that made up the tree.  He forced his will into thought.  The tangles unraveled and the tree gave a shiver as the life force of the earth was again able to flow freely.  If it had been that easy to break the curse and pull the gray of the Shadowlands out of Roan, they would've been free centuries ago.

He paused to watch the tree and see if the magical changes would hold.  The tree sighed as if touched by a breeze, but the changes did more than hold.  Buds began to form and new leaves unfurled as if it were spring and not midwinter.

"Too much," Dai muttered and tried to pull back some of what he'd done, but the tree pushed him away.  The throbbing in his temples began as he tried to do too much with the magic he could barely control.  Then the throb spread, tightening around his skull like hands seeking to crush the bone.  With a gasp he released all hold on the magic and let the tree win the fight for survival.  He lacked the heart to kill anymore.

Under Fire

Author: Catherine Mann

Elite Forces #3

Publisher: Sourcebooks

Released: May 1, 2012

REVIEW HERE


Rachel tipped her face into the stinging spray, needing to melt away the hellish tension from carrying around the burden of what she knew.  Finally, she had someone who was willing to listen to her, to help her.  And not just anyone.

Liam.

 Her skin tingled with a heat beyond anything coming out of the shower head.  The bathroom steam was so thick it almost muted the avocado green tile of the outdated bathroom.  Rivulets streaked down the brown striped shower curtain.  Everywhere around her, she confronted reminders of Liam, packing her brain with images of him standing in this shower.

The scent of his aftershave clung to the air.  Reminders of Liam greeted her eyes no matter which way she turned - his shaving gel, razor, shampoo, and sport body wash.  The space was as clean as the rest of the neatly kept house.

A crack of thunder split the air, startling her.  Maybe she should have just stood out in the rain and let it wash her clean.  She'd certainly done so in the past on SAR missions - rain, storms, waterfalls.

Thunder pounded again.  Louder.  So close it sounded nearly on top of her.  She shrieked in surprise before she could finish registering it was only someone knocking.  Knocking mighty hard.

"Liam?" she called out as the door exploded open.  His broad shoulders filled the door, his dark blond hair backlit by illumination from the hall.  "Are you okay?  You screamed."

She yanked the shower curtain to her body and said again, "Liam!"

Disco head-butted the back of Liam's leg, whining.  He moved deeper into the bathroom.

Her hands fisted around the brown vinyl curtain.  "I screamed because you scared the crap out of me."

"Sorry.  Here."  He yanked an oversized towel from the rack and tossed it to her.  "You need to get dressed."

She snagged the towel with one hand while her other still clutched tightly to the shower curtain.  "I'm almost through.  I'll be out soon."

"We don't have any more time-" He stopped in his tracks.  His eyes went wide, the sea green tint going stormy deep.  His throat moved in a slow swallow before his gaze shot back up to her face.

She been attracted to him before, more than any man since her fiance.  But Liam had mentioned that  love word back in the Bahamas.  Such a beautiful, pain-filled word.  Although he could have only been half serious about the whole love thing, she couldn't go there again, not even partially.  She'd resisted the sensual draw during the three weeks they'd worked together on the earthquake relief.  Although right now, with her defenses stripped even barer than her body at the moment, she found it almost impossible to resist stepping into his arms again.

"Liam?"  Clutching the towel to her breasts, she swayed.

He scrubbed a hand over his square jaw, his eyes locked on her face.  "Someone blew up your town house."

Sins of the Son