Leia Shaw's Blog: Leia's Writing , page 6

Rough Sex Excerpts

***Warning: Content not intended for readers under 18***

Sorry about the hold up. Completely slipped my mind that I promised rough sex excerpts to my rough sex fans. Well...I won't make you wait any longer.

Book 1, Destiny Divided:

He pressed his knee into the small of her back, holding her still while she kicked and squirmed. It wasn’t a smart move, she realized too late. Her skirt had ridden up and with the handcuffs on, she was at his mercy. He chuckled and kneaded first one globe then the other, giving each a playful smack. “I rather like you this way.”

“Cheater,” she spat.

“Rule number one. Always be prepared to fight dirty.”

She sighed in defeat and laid her cheek on the cold ground. “Okay, fine. You win. Now let me go.”

“Three days, I was stuck in that goddamn cave,” he whispered harshly at her ear.
“Three days with nothing to do but plot my revenge.”

Shivers traveled down her spine and her insides twisted in knots. Just what did he have in mind? He gripped her upper arm and hoisted her to stand.

“What are you doing?” she asked trying to keep the panic from her voice. But, truthfully, her voice wasn’t the only thing trembling.

He grinned like a feral wolf. “It’s called payback, love.”

He slung her over his shoulder and she bounced upside down as he ascended the stairs. Her stairs. In her goddamn castle. She fought him every step of the way, stunned she couldn’t break through the handcuffs. When she bit into his back she felt the sting of his large palm connecting sharply with her ass.

“Stop that!” he ordered. “The handcuffs are reinforced with magic. They won’t break. Now stop squirming. You don’t want to endure any more of my wrath than necessary, I assure you.” He repositioned her writhing body with a rough jostle. “Now, where’s your bedroom?”

“Why would I tell you?”

He froze mid-stride. “Because one way or another I am going to have you tonight. We can do it right here in the hallway but I would have thought you’d want some privacy.”

There was no teasing in his voice. She directed him to her room with a resigned sigh. When he threw her on the bed she attempted to kick him but he shoved his hips between her legs and pinned her to the mattress. Part of her wanted to beg him to ravish her greedily and the other part wanted to drop kick him off the balcony.

With her arms locked behind her and James’ body covering the rest of her, she was good and caught.

“Do you still deny you have feelings for me, cariad?” James asked in a husky voice she could barely resist. He pushed the hair from her face looking down at her with such tenderness it made her heart ache.

What the hell? She almost preferred him handcuffing her and slapping her ass. Goddamn moody vampires!

“That’s all right,” he said. “I plan to make you remember your feelings.”

She almost whimpered. Stop it, Sage! You’re the goddamn Queen of the –

Mmmmm. He was doing something delicious to her mouth. His kiss was demanding. He rocked his body against hers, his tongue reaching into her mouth like he just couldn’t get close enough to her. When he stopped it left her panting and gasping for air.

He stared down at her, his eyes half-hooded and wanting. When he looked at her like this, she felt an overwhelming sensation – not entirely unpleasant – that James really knew her.

He knew her and yet he came for her anyway.

The corner of his mouth curled then he yanked up her shirt and clawed her bra in half. Her breasts tumbled out. He gaped at them until her nipples hardened under his heated gaze.

He placed slow, gentle kisses from her chin, down her neck, stopping in the front of her throat to nibble gently. She may have stopped breathing, because she could no longer feel anything but his sweet caresses. A fever burned, starting in her stomach then spreading down to her core.

He shifted his hips and his erection hit just the right spot to send her into oblivion. She gasped and thrust toward him, willing him to grind against her just a little harder. But he stilled.

“James,” she pleaded.

“Not yet.” His kisses moved up the side of her neck. He whispered in her ear, “I want to play first.”

His mouth made its way down her chest, licking, nipping, sucking, but he didn’t touch her breasts. The cool air of her bedroom suddenly felt icy against her sensitive nipples. They tingled in anticipation when he gazed at them. She squirmed, willing him to take one between his lips.

As if he knew what she was thinking, he lifted his head, and with a decadent smile, he said, “Is there something you want, cariad?”

Willpower, Sage. Willpower!

“Touch them,” she breathed. Damn you!

He nodded. “For good behavior,” he teased. His mouth slid to one breast, lapped at her nipple softly then stopped. She arched her back but stifled a moan.

“Do you want more?” he asked.

She wanted to smack him. “Yes.”
With a greedy glitter in his eye, he moved to the other breast sliding his tongue around her nipple before suckling it gently between his soft lips. Heat flooded between her legs and she ground
against his hips. A moan escaped her and his eyes flared with desire at the sound.
He sucked harder and the moan turned into a cry, but when he placed a rough palm between her legs sparks shot up her spine.

Suddenly his lips were against her ear, kissing as he whispered, “Do you love me, cariad?”

She blinked. Do I? She needed to give it some thought. But unfortunately, Mr. Sexy McHotness, here, was too distracting. “I-I don’t know.”

He didn’t look upset with her answer. One finger delicately outlined her breast. “But you want to be with me,” he commanded rather than asked. He pinched her nipple then caressed the pain away.

“Yes.” She answered his command anyway. He smiled and grabbed her breast letting it fill his entire palm. “James,” she breathed, her voice heavy with need. “No more questions. Just…touch me. Please.”

He tipped his head up to regard her. “Just one more question.” He lowered his mouth to her breasts at the same time as he slid his hand down between her legs. But he barely touched her. He drew circles lazily with a finger over her panties. Teasing.

God, she wanted to kill him. Well, first screw him then kill him. “Do you want to come home with me?” he finally asked, his voice dripping with a buttery seduction even freakin’ Mother Theresa couldn’t resist.

“Yes. Anything,” she answered.

“Just…please.” She bucked her hips against his, yearning for contact.

A sinful smile broke across his face. “That’s my girl.”

Wait, what did I just agree to?
Before she could ask for some clarification about that last pesky little question he flipped her over and dragged her to the edge of the bed.

“Ah, Sage,” he said standing behind her, “you make it too easy with these skirts.”
Her skirt went up and her fishnets went down. She was still helpless with her hands cuffed behind her back, but she liked it. She liked that she was at his mercy in every way. And she knew from experience, he was good at giving her what she needed.

He fingered the edge of her black lace panties. “These please me, cariad.” His fingers dipped under her panties and between her folds. Pleasure rocked through her body until she thought she might come apart. She gasped.

In a flash, her underwear was gone and he thrust into her wetness. She hadn’t even heard him unzip his pants. All it took was one fierce drive and she was over the edge. Stars studded her vision as she cried out for him.
A few minutes later, she landed back on earth. James chuckled. “My little sorceress is lusty,” he whispered and bit her earlobe sharply.

She yelped working up to another climax. With one big hand placed on the small of her back, pinning her in place, he moved in and out of her. Her body jerked back and forth with the strength of his movement. The bed banged against the wall and with every sharp thrust their skin slapped together lusciously. Their sex was loud and violent, just as she’d expected.

Her moans and cries grew louder. She couldn’t contain it anymore, she was going to explode. But James flipped her over seamlessly and continued pumping into her with enough force to make her teeth clatter. This was no gentle lovemaking. This was passionate, vengeance sex. God, she loved it!
He brought two palms down onto the bed on either side of her head and looked into her eyes. She closed them to shield herself from his intensity.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered. “Look at me.” She did. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice turned velvety. “Keep your eyes on me.”

His normally perfect features were shimmering with sweat. Combined with his ragged overgrown beard, he looked sexier than ever.

He leaned forward, grabbing her face possessively with one hand. “You are mine, Sage. Do you understand me? Mine!” he rasped fiercely.
Waves of heat flooded her and butterflies danced through her body.

“Now come with me, cariad,” he commanded.




Book 2, Destiny United:

She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him back up her body. He smiled at her attempt to take control, allowing her to pull off shirt then helped her shuck his pants as well. Leaning back he grabbed both her knees and pressed her thighs open, baring her completely to his gaze. For a moment she was embarrassed and fought to close them. But his hands were like a vice.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

She blushed but smiled extending her arms out to embrace him. He obliged her, wrapping his arms around her back. She gasped when he swung her onto his lap as he moved to the edge of the bed.

In one brutal thrust he set her down on his length, filling her so suddenly she cried out in shock. His hands roamed, over her back and bottom, on her breasts, rubbing against her nipples. He was everywhere. He pulled her back up then slammed her down again. She was flying, spinning, unsure of where she started and he ended. Waves of pleasure rolled over her. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, holding her down when gravity ceased to exist.

She gasped for air and the orgasm went on. She was vaguely aware of his voice, whispering words of love in Spanish. When she came back down to earth, she clung to him, kissing his face and neck. She pulled back and gave him a sultry glare, her eyes half-hooded, a satisfied smile on her lips.

“Oh no, love,” he told her, his voice husky with need. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He placed her on her back at the edge of the bed. She put her arms out to stop his rapid descent towards her breasts.

“Wait,” she cried. “Just wait.”

He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the mattress next to her head. “No waiting,” he growled, more animal than man. “Trust. Surrender. Let me take control.” His eyes softened at her wary expression. “I won’t hurt you. And you won’t regret it.”

Trust. Surrender. Yes, she could give him that. “I trust you. And I love you.”

A deep kiss was her reward, and a little shock of pain when he nipped her bottom lip. Still holding her arms pinned, he entered her sheath, surprising her with long, slow strokes. His gaze was fixed on hers. She wanted to shield herself from the intensity but couldn’t seem to pull away. His fangs extended and it was so erotic her body tingled with excitement. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

When he lowered his mouth to her neck she didn’t stop him. She trusted him not to take her blood without permission. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin sending sparks down to her toes. He kissed his way to her collarbone, grazing sharply then licking the small sting away. He brought one hand between their bucking bodies and pressed on her throbbing clit. She almost flew out of her skin.

Her free hand grabbed onto his head, threading through his hair, holding him tight while she moaned and writhed beneath him.

Suddenly he stood up straight, grabbed her under the knees and raised her hips for deeper access. His thrusts were ruthless now as he slammed into her over and over. Their bodies slapped together, luscious and wet. Her cries grew louder, more desperate, as the pleasure mounted. She was on fire. She ached for release. Just…a little…more…

He stopped. She whimpered. Wordlessly he flipped her over, positioning her on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed. He didn’t touch her at first. She was cold and bare without him.

Impatient, she growled, but then his hands were on her. Light fingers traced a path down her spine. She shivered. Then he plunged into her, steadying her with hands gripping her hips.

He remained still for a moment, filling her with his length until she wiggled against him, urging him on. He wrapped her long hair around his fist and gently tugged her head back. She followed his lead rising up to her knees to meet his mouth in a firm kiss. He held her at his mercy, proving he would take her when he wanted and no sooner. Surrender. Trust. He wanted it all.

Finally he released her, placing her hands back on the bed. He slammed into her sheath so hard she fell forward onto her elbows. But it felt good.

God it feels so good! He did it again, this time grunting with the force of it. She rocked forward but stayed on her elbows. She’d never felt so exposed. So erotic, so raw. She was trusting her body, her soul, her very life to Marcelo. And he was demanding no less.
Pressure built within her, muscled turning to jelly, pleasure singing through her veins. She couldn’t take anymore. She was going to shatter into a million pieces.

“Marcelo,” she pleaded, needing him to slow down. She was so overwhelmed her heart and soul were about to be ripped wide open. She couldn’t handle it.

“It’s all right, querida,” he said softly. “I’m here. Let go.”


And in true teaser fashion, you must buy the books to read more. Muah ha ha ha...

- Leia

Some Like it Rough

If you're a romance reader (like me!) you probably like this genre because;

1) the connection between the characters

2) the happily ever after

and

3) the steamy love scenes!

Or maybe you have your own reasons, but those are mine.

So, my question is...do you like it rough?

Okay, we're talking fantasy here, not personal life. We don't need to go there.

The majority of the books I read have very primal, wild sex scenes. It makes me wonder if the majority of women like this type of intimacy in their reading. Granted, I read a lot of paranormal, and the predatory, animalistic themes are very popular. And it makes sense for the characters. But I've read a good number of rough sex scenes in other sub-genres as well.

For me, rough sex doesn't equal violence, or even dominance. It's passion. The intensity of not only the shared lust, but the emotion behind it. And who doesn't want to be wanted so bad that it turns a man into a beast? Who doesn't think it's sexy that a man could be so hot for you that he rips your clothes to shreds just to get at your body? Oh, yes. A beast it is.

A beast with a tender, gentle side, when it matters. But when it's beyond mattering...

You know when it gets to that point, right? When the heroine says, to hell with it, gimme all you got. And she doesn't care if there's a pointy rock shoving into her back, or if there will be bruises on her arms from where he's holding her pinned under him, or if her lips are raw from the harshness of his stubble. She can't feel any of that anyway. And if she can, it turns her on. Cause it reminds her how bad this man wants her.

When it gets to that point, chests heaving, gazes locked, bodies tingly all over, growls echoing in the night, I say let the beast out of his cage.

Are you with me?

So what's your favorite type of sex to read?

***In honor of rough sex lovers everywhere, I'll post a section of one of my books that includes rough sex tomorrow***

Characterization: Love 'em or hate 'em

A couple months ago I went to a local RWA writers conference and met the talented Kristan Higgins. She taught a workshop about characterization. I wish I kept the notes because it was not only very informative, but like most things she does...freakin' funny.

So I wanted to talk about characters and get some feedback from readers. I am very passionate about characters. They're what make the book. The plot is secondary, the humor is secondary, and yes ladies, even the sex is secondary. Because what's the point if you're not connected to, or at least entertained by the characters? Whether it's someone you want to root for, one you love, or one you love to hate.

But I strongly believe characters should be flawed. I like my characters to be as close to real as possible - minus all the fantasy elements (since I write paranormal) and the fact that they are all abnormally gorgeous (cause you want some amount of escapism, right?). But in other ways, they should feel very real. That means multi-dimensional.

Let's talk about contradictions. I think everyone is a contradiction in some ways. For instance, I consider myself feminine though I hate make-up and prefer guy movies. My husband is considered shy but among close friends and family he can be very chatty. I'm spontaneous but I use a calendar. Can you think of a few? Again, the reason for this is because humans are multi-dimensional.

We also change. Sometimes through the course of a decade, sometimes a year, sometimes only a matter of days or weeks. Because of the nature of my books (and being a fantasy writer) my characters sometimes change quickly because of extenuating circumstance they are often forced into. Isn't that true in real life? Has anyone had a life or death situation that changed them forever? I went rock climbing once and almost died and it shook my world. I wised up fast about safety and adventure. I also learned exactly what I was made of. I can think of a hundred examples of this.

Now let's talk about conflict. How important is conflict in a book? Well, I'll let you answer in the comments but to me it is vital. Wouldn't it be a dull book if the characters made perfect decisions in every situation? Or never made mistakes, never made a hurtful comment to someone they loved? Not only is that unrealistic, but it's pretty boring too.

I write a lot of conflict for my characters. Maybe I torture them a little (Lol!). There's one scene in my newest book where Marcelo calls the heroine, Erin, out on a character flaw of hers. She gets pissed, she gets sad, and she does something a little spiteful in the heat of the moment. Being hurt by someone we love (or at least respect) is a powerful thing. It makes us do and say stupid things because we are in such pain.

I believe characters should make mistakes - sometime big ones. Why shouldn't they have to deal with pride, forgiveness, guilty, etc? We all do.

And I like intensity. I just do. I'm dramatic, passionate, and emotional. It's what I write and I'll never apologize for it. Anyone read the Fever series by Karen Marie Moning? Talk about intensity and conflict, right? Mac and Barrons hated each other up until the very end of the very last book. But I LOVED every minute of it. It kept me wondering...what are they going to say/do next? When will they admit their feelings? It drew me right in. It was powerful, emotional, made me stop and think, and sometimes I hated the characters, other times I thought they were the shit. I had felt so many things throughout that series I was almost exhausted from it.

If there are negative things about my characters, I certainly hope there are an equal number (or more) of redeeming qualities. Sage, from my first book, is rough around the edges. She's sarcastic and can be mean and cold. But she's smart. She's a survivor. And she's loyal once she trusts someone, it just takes her a while to get to that point. Erin, from my second book, starts off very dependent because of an anxiety disorder. She goes through a massive transformation after being confronted with life or death situations. She may start off as a weak character but she's also playful and witty and has a kind heart.

Bottom line: characters have weaknesses just like we all do. They are multi-dimensional, just like we all are.

So...those are a few things that are important to me in reading fiction and writing my books. What about you? What are your favorite parts about characters?

Leia Shaw

Long excerpt from Destiny United

***Warning: graphic content not intended for readers under the age of 18***

ENJOY!

The familiar squeeze in her chest warned her of what was coming. Her heart thundered in her ears. Oh shit! There goes my sanity. Her chest tightened more and more with each breath. Marcelo’s worried expression didn’t help.

“Aila,” he said. “You’ve got to calm down.”

She gave him a disgruntled expression. As if I don’t already know that! Her hands clamped over her mouth to steady her breathing. But it didn’t work. She was already halfway to a panic attack.

Marcelo dropped a warm hand onto her knee. “Don’t worry about any of that now. Let’s just focus on getting you to Sage and you can figure it out together.”
She nodded but still her breath came unevenly.

“Aila,” he said in a low, hypnotic voice. “Focus on me. Don’t think about your breathing. Don’t think about the fae. Don’t think about anything but my voice. Can you do that?”

He sounded calm. Reassuring. Confident. His deep, rich voice was pure seduction. Yeah, she could do that. She nodded.

“Do you know what a vampire’s favorite kind of dog is?”

Puzzled, she looked up at him.

“A bloodhound.” The boyish grin he gave her was almost as charming as the pitiful attempt at a joke.

She couldn’t stop a strangled laugh. “That was the worst joke ever,” she told him, lowering her shaky hands. But it worked. Her body was still suffering the after-shocks but her breath was almost steady. Who would have thought a vampire would make a good therapist?

Marcelo pulled into a secluded parking
spot at the city mall. “I have worse jokes than that,” he told her, “but I’ll save them for your next panic attack.”

She chuckled. God help her, she might actually be starting to like this guy.
Then he pulled out a piece of rope. Her heart slammed into her chest. Had she spoken too soon? Before she could ask what it was for, he had her wrists locked in one hand while he tied the rope around them.

“What are you doing?” she yelled, horrified.

“You’ve already run from me once and you won’t come inside. What am I to do, Aila?” It was a question but he’d already decided the answer. Tie her to the steering wheel!

“I didn’t run from you.” She yanked her arms to get free but he easily held her still.

“You left the car when I told you to stay. And to get drunk at a bar, no less. You’ve proven that I cannot trust you.”

“I won’t leave. I promise.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes!”

“Aila,” he said in a low voice, “I’m sorry but you’ve left me no choice. This is why I told you it would be best for you to obey me.”

Panic welled in her chest and her breath quickened.

“Don’t start that again. It won’t change my mind.”

“I’ll come with you,” she spilled before she could stop herself. “Please. Just don’t leave me here defenseless.”

He looked into her eyes for one long unreadable moment. “Done,” he said then unwound the binds.

“What?”

“It’s about time you moved past this. I’m just glad you brought it up first.” He jumped out of the car then sped around to open her door.

Wait, wait, wait. She hadn’t really thought this through. But he had already pulled her from the car.

“Wait!” she pleaded. “I don’t know. I may have changed my mind.”

Marcelo tucked her small body into his side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She felt just a little bit safer being in his embrace. But still, she dragged her feet as he tugged her along through the parking lot.
“You and me, querida. We’re going to get through this together.”
For a moment, she actually believed him.
“Now, what is it you’re afraid of?”

“Umm…” They stepped through the door and entered a department store. Her gaze darted back and forth looking for exits, watching people frantically, searching for invisible threats.

“Aila.” Marcelo’s voice pulling her back to reality. “What are you afraid of?”

“Umm…”

“You said that already.”

“People. Looking at me.”

“No worries there. They’re all looking at me.” A dazzling grin reached his face as he gazed down at her. “It’s my hot body and devilish good looks.”

She managed a strangled snort. “You got the devil part right.”

He nodded slowly. “Ah, so that’s the trick.”

“What?”

“If I keep you insulting me, you forget your fears.”

“I haven’t forgotten. I’m shaking like a leaf, if you haven’t noticed.”She stuck out one trembling hand.

Without slowing his steps he grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. “Then tell me, cosita, what else are you afraid of?” He kept hold of her hand, confidently, securely, and she was suddenly more aware of that one kissed spot than anything else around her.

“Umm…I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
Marcelo pushed her along, his strong arm holding her close but not letting her drag her feet anymore. They moved quickly through the aisles, getting farther and farther away from the exit. Her breathing started to shallow.

“Aila,” he said, his voice taking on an alluring quality. “Focus on my voice. Look at the floor if you have to. One foot in front of the other.”

Yes, okay, I can do that. The floor. It had a square pattern. She focused on stepping over the cracks as they walked. “I’m scared someone’s going to ask me a question and I won’t know the answer. And I’m scared I’m going to knock over a display or bump into something delicate and break it. Then everyone will look at me and laugh.” She watched the lines move under her feet. “I’m scared I’m going to get lost. Or there will be an emergency and I won’t know what to do. Like the fire alarm or…or…a terrorist attack.”

Marcelo stopped abruptly then quieted her rambling with a finger under her chin. He pulled her head up to meet his gaze. “We all have fears, Aila. But the question is, how long are you going to let them run your life?”

She raised her brows as his words sunk in. “You have fears?”

He looked hesitant, but answered, “Anyone who has something to lose has something to fear.”

“What do you –”

“Another time, querida.” With a firm shove she was in an aisle surrounded by women’s clothing. “Now, we shop.” He grinned, perfect white teeth glinting against his russet skin. It made her smile, though her heart still pounded in fear.

Aila perused the racks, fingering the garments, a gratified smile on her face. She kept one hand locked around Marcelo’s large wrist. He’d glanced down at it twice and she’d thought he meant to pull away, until she saw his lips curl into a small smile. She knew it was silly, but for some reason, holding onto him made her feel better. Like she was keeping him from running off without her.

“I haven’t been shopping in so long,” she said.

Marcelo furrowed his brows and turned to study her. “How do you get clothes then?”

“Boyfriend. Whoever it is at the time. Or online.”

His voice was sharp. “Exactly how many boyfriends have you had?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been with Jimmy for a while though. He has good taste in clothing. And he tolerates my limited diet.” Her hand brushed up against a silky dress. She smiled inside. She could get used to this shopping business.

At once Marcelo’s body language changed. Relaxed and content before, now his muscles were tense, his large body invading her space. She had to strain her neck to look up at him.
With an accusing expression, he said, “Let me get this straight. You use men to buy you things you need because of your…”

“Disability? Yes. But it’s not as if they know it.”

“What would happen if you didn’t have a boyfriend? No one to take care of you?”

She blinked. Why did he look so angry? And why was it any of his business? “I don’t know,” she admitted, but with pride still in her voice. “It’s never happened.”

“So when you break up with one…”

“I find someone to take his place.”

“And do you sleep with them to keep them happy?”

She gasped. “I’m not a prostitute!”

His eyes turned fierce with an emotion she couldn’t decipher then he turned around and started pulling clothing off the racks.

“I don’t know why you’re judging me,” she said following closely on his heels. “It’s none of your business anyway.”

He didn’t even turn to face her as he combed through the racks. “It’s immoral,” he said half-heartedly. “Using men to meet your needs.”

“Immoral?” she yelled, surprising herself with her boldness. “This from a vampire from the Underworld!”

He spun around so fast she flinched then took a step back. Instead of being angry, like she’d thought, he smirked and said, “My little hot-headed fae is back.” Then he stroked her cheek with a knuckle. She scowled but didn’t pull away. “I’m not judging you, Aila. Gods know I’m not the best example of a moral life. I just think you can do better than living like a leech off men.”

“Funny choice of words for someone like you,” she muttered, though she felt the anger recede with his words.

He thrust an arm full of clothing at her then spun her around and pushed her to the back of the store. They entered a separate room with a row of stalls.

“What am I supposed to do here?” she asked.

“Try them on.”

She looked at the stalls then back to Marcelo. “By myself?”

He grinned wickedly. “Unless you want me to help you.”

She frowned. “Can’t we just buy them?”

“No. You’re going to try each and every one of them on, then walk out here and show me. It’s the only thing that makes shopping with a woman worthwhile. And since I’m paying for the clothes, I’m taking my due.”

Ballsy! Before she could stutter through a response he had pushed her through one of the doors and shut it behind her. She scanned the stall then placed the clothes on the hook. At least there would be no one watching her.
Unless….she spotted what looked like a video camera on the ceiling. Oh God!

“Aila,” Marcelo warned from outside.

“Don’t make me come in there. Get going.”

She shuddered at his tone. What would it be like if he broke through the door mid-dressing? Would he ogle her body? Would she like it? The rush of heat flooding her core answered that question. Get a grip on your libido, she scolded herself, shaking away her lustful thoughts. You have a boyfriend!

After she tried on the first outfit – a pair of plain khaki hiking shorts and pink tank top with a built-in bra, she looked in the mirror, turning this way and that. She had to admit it was gratifying to see herself in the clothing before making a purchase.
Marcelo’s voice snapped her away from the moment. “Come, Aila. Let me see.”
She rolled her eyes then stepped out of the dressing room, knowing full well he would just come in if she didn’t.
His gaze raked over her body, intensifying with each second. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she was actually aroused by this bold show of sensuality. Her cheeks flushed and her throat suddenly felt dry. He didn’t say anything, just nodded in what she guessed was approval.

She spun around, embarrassed by the warmth between her legs. Right before she’d gone back into the dressing room, Marcelo’s eyes had locked onto hers, sparkling with a hint of wicked desire. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. And what she was thinking was so not suitable for a public dressing room. She almost collapsed on the floor when she shut the door behind her. But she knew, in only a moment, Marcelo would be demanding another show.
Everything she had tried on was serviceable clothing for hiking – nothing particularly appealing about them. Marcelo had watched her with a heated gaze that made her knees weaker and weaker each time she went back into the dressing room. But he hadn’t made a sound.

On the fourth outfit – a red halter top dress she hadn’t remembered picking out – he finally rose from the chair where he’d been sitting.

“Turn around,” he ordered.

She spun slowly, hiding a smile, wondering what he was thinking.
He hissed in a breath. “Your ass looks magnificent.
Her stomach fluttered.
“One size smaller, I think. I’ll be right back.”
Then he spun on his heel and left her. Alone. He left her.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chanted feeling the familiar tightening in her chest. She stood there, frozen, outside the fitting room stall.

“Hey, is that Erin?” she heard someone whisper from the opening of the fitting room.

Looking in that direction she was mortified. Two girls from one of her classes at the community college stared at her. They were far enough away that a normal human wouldn’t hear their whispers, but with her fae senses she could hear them as if they were standing next to her.

“She’s the weirdo that always freaks out when people talk to her.”

“Oh, yeah,” the other girl whispered.
“She had a panic attack in trigonometry once. They had to call an ambulance. I think she takes online classes now.”

“Hey,” the first one said. “Who’s that hot and dangerous looking guy over there?”

“Oooh…yummy.”

With the attention off of her, Aila swung around and walked back into the fitting room stall where she slumped into a pile on the bench. At least five minutes went by and Aila had frozen in fear. She was trapped. Marcelo had left her and she had no idea if he would be coming back. The exits were so far away and she didn’t know how to reach them. Tears threatened to spill onto her heated cheeks. She wanted to curl up and die.

Then she heard the stall door handle wiggle. It was locked but in only a few seconds it burst open. In stormed Marcelo, his face a mixture of concern and anger. He walked straight to her and leaned over, placing his hands on the bench on either side of her body. His face was so close to hers she could see her reflection in the black of his eyes.

He spoke softly but with clear authority. “I know why you’re upset. But it’s time to stop sulking in self-pity and start acting like the strong fae warrior that’s in your blood.”

“But –”

“You listen to me, Aila. You are not a frightened little girl anymore. You are stronger, and smarter, and ten times more beautiful than the girls you’re afraid of. And you are a goddamn supernatural! We don’t cower and hide.”

“I can’t help it,” she admitted with a trembling voice. “I’m scared.”

“Good. It means you’re not stupid and reckless like your sister. There are things in this world to be afraid of, Aila. Sometimes it’s only fear that keeps us alive. Fear tells us to run when we’re outmatched. But fear is toxic. It can poison. It can maim. It can disable. So if you’re going to be afraid, querida, make it something worth being afraid of.”

He wrapped a hand around her upper arm and hoisted her to her feet. “Now, you are going to walk out there with your head held high and purchase these clothes.” He thrust several hangers of clothing into her hands. “Understand?”

“By myself?” she asked, barely a whisper.

His voice softened. The fierceness in his brown eyes melted to warmth. “All you need to worry about is getting from here to the cashier’s desk. One foot in front of the other. Leave the rest to me.”

She was too stunned to speak but he seemed to be waiting for an answer. She nodded.

He ripped the tags off one of the dressed and held it out to her. “Put this on.” It was the red halter top dress one size smaller. He turned around and started to leave then stopped abruptly. “And Aila.”
She looked up at him.
“Don’t you ever underestimate yourself in my presence again.”

He was out the door in one big step and she was alone. Her jaw dropped. Never had anyone commanded her not to be afraid. They’d felt sorry for her. They’d made excuses for her. But no one had ever declared her strong, beautiful, and smart, and then forced her to prove it. Her body shivered from head to toe.

One foot in front of the other, she repeated to herself walking toward the cashier. She obliged him and wore the red dress, though she would have preferred heels to her cowboy boots. She could hear the girls whispering behind her about a hot guy with long dark hair and jeans that hugged his photo-worthy ass. Oh! They’re talking about Marcelo. A twinge of jealousy had her hissing in a breath. What is wrong with me?

Half-way to the cashier’s desk, one of the girls squealed, “Here he comes!”

Aila wanted to follow their line of sight, but she was afraid she’d panic and pass out. In only seconds she heard his voice boom from her right. “There you are!”

Huh? Marcelo wrapped an arm around her waist lifting her onto tiptoes, her chest mashed up against his. The girls’ gasps echoed in her ears. He cupped her face with one hand then pressed his lips to hers.

Oh my God! He’s kissing me!
His lips were soft but the kiss was not. It was demanding, passionate, addictive.

His mouth covered hers, coercing her to open for his entrance. “Kiss me back, Aila,” he muttered against her lips.
Oh, right. This is for an audience.
She opened her mouth and allowed him in. He tasted like exotic spices and warm coffee. His kiss was just as domineering as the rest of him, but gentle at the same time. Like he wanted to romance her but couldn’t stop his own primitive reaction. It turned her into a spineless pile of mush. Arms tightened around her waist. But if she got any closer to him, he’d be inside her. Or maybe that was exactly where she wanted him. Just as abruptly as the kiss began, it stopped.
Too stunned to move she just stood, staring at his chest, trying to pull her spine back together.

His mouth hovered over hers, the heat of his breath swirling around her. “Smile, Aila,” he said.

She managed a sort of silly half-smile. She couldn’t even hear the girl’s gratifying responses because her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

“Good girl,” he said, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest, which she could feel because she was still pressed up against him – though now she wasn’t sure if he held her there or she did. “Now walk to the cashier.”

He maneuvered her so they were side by side and walked her through the aisle. She didn’t need to focus on the floor to calm a rising panic attack. No, with her head in the clouds she couldn’t even feel the floor beneath her feet. Suddenly a large palm slapped against her backside, making her jump six inches in the air. She felt him chuckle again as he left his hand on one cheek with a very clear message. Mine.

Chapter 7

Marcelo had never felt so proprietary about anything before. As far as vampires went, they tended to be very possessive – of weapons, of land, of women. But Marcelo never felt like there was anything that important not to share. Until now.

Instinct wasn’t just whispering in his ear, it was screaming through his bones. Mine, was the message. Take what’s mine and don’t share!

For the second time Aila managed to wipe all thoughts of Natalia from his mind. Could Aila be his true mate? The one meant for him for all eternity? The other half of his heart?

He’d known he was attracted to Aila before, but the kiss was enough to make him explode. Damn this girl’s got me all twisted up! Her lips tasted like pure lust. The scent of her lingered on his lips, his clothes, his body. He wanted to roll in it, wanted to touch every inch of her delicious skin. He’d even settle for another kiss. She’d been so responsive – opening her mouth when he demanded. Her body had melted into his embrace like it was made to be there. She hadn’t wanted to pull away from the kiss, and even clutched his shirt in her little fists. If they hadn’t been in public he would’ve slipped a hand up her dress to see if she was as wet as he’d thought.

Now he walked with a hand on his woman’s ass, possessive and proud as he paid for her clothing – providing for his mate. He gave his head a shake. His mate? When had he officially declared that?

Marcelo had spent so long searching for Natalia he’d begun to think the hunt would never end. His sole purpose in his second life had been finding her. For eight hundred years he’d been telling himself that as soon as she was in his arms his world would be right again. Could he give it all up now? He had to admit, the idea of leaving it behind sent waves of relief through his body. Like the heavy, murky air polluting his lungs had cleared. His refreshment? The small, sunny fae before him.

If the rumors were true, Natalia had changed. She wasn’t the same woman as when they were human. Hell, he wasn’t the same man.

Natalia isn’t yours. The thought came uncontrollably, and with it years of sorrow and frustration. No, Natalia wasn’t his.

But Aila was.

Yes, it was already decided. Whether Aila knew it or not, she was not going back to that human boyfriend. She would not be having any other male. She was his. And his alone.

Marcelo guided Aila out of the department store, a hand securely placed on the small of her back. When they stepped into the busy mall hallway, she froze. “I…I don’t think I can handle anymore. Seriously. I’m done.”

“Nonsense,” he said, grasping her hand, intertwining their fingers. “We’re just getting to the good stuff.”

Her gaze was glued to their hands, a frown set on her lips, but she didn’t pull away. “Umm. The good stuff?”

“Let’s see, we got you shorts and t-shirts. And now I believe you need under garments.”

“What?” Her little forehead scrunched before realization struck. “Oh. That.” Pink blossomed across her cheeks then her eyes widened. “You’re not going to make me try those on too!”

He couldn’t hold back a short burst of laughter. “Not unless you insist.”
Relief was visible on her face.
“Do you? Insist?”

“No!” she snapped, though the curiosity in her eyes betrayed her.

Aila blushed through the entire lingerie store while Marcelo took his time selecting the items. It was a strange sort of torture to endure. Visions of Aila dressed in the various skimpy underclothes swamped him until his shaft was so hard it hurt. He yearned to throw her over his shoulder and take her in the dressing room while she panted and moaned in his ear – her sweaty body marking up the mirror. He shook the image from his mind. This time no one should smack him. If Aila was his, then it was his right – no, his job – to satisfy her. More than just that. To please her, protect her, provide for her, and above all – possess her, as she possessed him.

After buying her the most expensive yet least practical underclothes he could find, his gaze roamed leisurely up and down her body. He never thought a woman could blush for so long. Nor did he ever think it would be so sexy. His gaze dropped to the pulse on her neck. How he’d love to taste her.

I’ll bet she tastes as sweet as she smells. Honey and sunshine.

His fangs ached for release. Patience, Marcelo. He had an eternity to enjoy her in every possible way. And she would learn to sate him, in bed and under his fangs. But now was not the time. He knew, timid as she was, she’d need time to adjust to the idea of being tied to him forever. Her brain still worked as a human’s did – uncomprehending of mating bonds. Even Marcelo was unsure about what to expect.

“Why are you staring at my neck?” she asked, interrupting his scattered thoughts. Then her eyes widened. “Oh no! You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

He stepped closer. She stepped back. “What I’m thinking, querida, is that those cowboy boots just won’t do.”

She looked down and clicked her heels together. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Can you hike in them? Climb in them?”

“Well, no. But they’re adorable!” She grinned, looking down at them so fondly that before he could stop himself, he agreed to carry them in his backpack so she could keep them. He was rewarded with a glowing smile.

Back in the car, after she’d eaten an adequate meal, she pinned him with a pensive expression. “Marcelo, it was very kind of you to buy me these things. I promise to pay you back just as soon as I can.”

Pay him back? For money that was already hers? Another glance at her face revealed she would be insistent. Maybe he could make this work to his advantage. Holding back a twisted smirk he said, “I know how you could repay me now.”

She eyed him warily.

“A kiss,” he answered her unspoken question. “Just one.”

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. “You already took one of your own accord, so I guess that means we’re even.”

He smiled. Smart girl. “That kiss was for the clothing. I also bought you a pair of hiking boots. And if I remember correctly, they were quite expensive.”

She gave him a wry half-smile that almost stopped his heart. She was thinking about kissing him, which made him think about it. The car swerved when he stared at her bottom lip too long wondering what it would feel like between his teeth. Without losing that sultry smile she said, “How about I just pay you in cash after my next paycheck?”

“Querida,” he mimicked her smirk, “there isn’t going to be a next paycheck. Life as you knew it is over.”

He regretted it as soon as he’d said it. Her smile faded and grief filled her eyes. But it was the truth and she had to face it sooner or later.

She took a deep breath and stared down at her hands. “Right. I keep forgetting.” After a long moment of silence she asked, in a small voice, the question he’d been dreading since he first brought it up in the mall. “Marcelo, what are your fears?”

***

Marcelo stared silently at the road long enough to convince Aila he wouldn’t answer her intimate question. Then, without making eye contact, he said,
“For a long time I feared what I was becoming.”

She waited for him to explain. He didn’t.
“What do you mean?” she finally prompted.

“I have existed for a very long time, Aila. I’ve fought many wars. I’ve wandered to every end of the earth. Mindless feeding. Mindless fighting. I grew darker, more dangerous with each passing decade. How long can one continue to live like that? In darkness – no peace, no joy, no purpose but bloodshed. No redemption for my soul.”

Maybe immortality was overrated.

“I was afraid I’d never find my piece of happiness.”

“So now you’ve found it and you’re not afraid anymore?”

He shook his head. “Now I’m even more afraid.” At her quizzical glare he turned and pinned her with a look she could only describe as piercing authenticity. “Because now that I’ve found it, I’m terrified to lose it.”

She shuddered. God help anyone who tried to take it from him.

When they reached the hotel room, Marcelo handed Aila one of the backpacks they’d purchased. “Everything you want to bring with you has to fit in this bag,” he told her.

She nodded.

His head tilted and he studied her with narrowed eyes. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Yes. Everything must fit in the bag. I get it.”

He didn’t change his expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re a woman.”

“So glad you noticed.”

“Aren’t you going to insist on bringing a lot of stuff?”

She rolled her eyes. “I grew up in foster care. I can pack everything I need in a grocery bag in under three minutes.”

He nodded but his expression was grim. “I have to go out.”

“Where ?”

“I need to eat.”

She nodded then froze when realization struck. Oh! She grimaced at a vision of him feeding from a human. Her first response was disgust, but it quickly morphed into curiosity. She pictured his fangs lengthening under his lips, his eyes darkening as he sought his target, his teeth piercing through the flesh. Does he sedate them? Do they scream? Even more curious…do they like it?
She exhaled a breath she didn’t know she was holding then fanned herself with her hand. “Is it hot in here?”

At once his dark look faded to amusement. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“No!” Liar.

“Liar.”

Damn him!

He sauntered towards her, looking every bit the predator he was. Eyes focused, shoulders back, muscles tense and twitching. “Now, what do I do with you?”

She slapped on her most innocent expression and batted her eyes. “I won’t leave the room. I promise.” When he simply arched a brow, she added, “Didn’t I prove you can trust me?”

“No.” He shifted his weight to his other foot and sighed. “But I don’t really have a choice.” His twinkling eyes suddenly shifted to a starless black. He leaned forward, trapping her against the wall. “Do you know how powerful a vampire’s senses are? I can hear your heartbeat from the road. I can smell your delicious body from a mile away. If you run, you will not escape me. And if I lose my meal to chase you…” he didn’t need to finish the sentence, but he did, “you will be its substitution. So you are not going to step one foot outside that door, correct?”

She nodded.

He flashed a savage smile then stepped even closer, his scent washing over her like a wave. His gaze locked with hers, pinning her with an intensity that burned her very essence. Sparks shot down her spine. Her thighs clenched when heat surged to her core. How could a man affect her so strongly with just one look?

“Are you sure about that kiss?” he asked in a buttery voice. The tension was so thick she could scarcely breathe.
Though it took a lot of effort, she managed a small nod. When he turned away, she inhaled a deep breath, unpeeled her limp body from the wall, and muttered, “You could have just asked me to stay in the room.”

“Somehow I don’t think it would have had the same effect,” he answered over his shoulder as he opened the door. He paused in the doorway, his smoldering gaze still turning her insides to mush.

She wanted either to push him out the door and slam it shut, or yank him back in and tackle him on the bed. She settled on staring dumbly instead. That’s me, she sighed to herself, always the go-getter.

“Lock the door behind me,” he said. “And don’t open it for anyone, understand?”

“Why do you always ask me if I understand after you give me orders? You do realize I’m not five years old, don’t you?”

“Since you don’t follow my orders anyway, does it matter?”

“No. So maybe you should stop barking them.”

“Barking? Is that what I’m doing?” A smile played at the edge of his lips.

Not able to withstand his presence any longer she tried to shove him out the door. It was like trying to move a brick wall. “Yes. Barking. Just like a little poodle. Now go!”

His chuckles lingered as his body glided down the hallway like a jungle cat on a leisurely stroll. Pushing the hair from her face she exhaled a deep breath then shut and locked the door. She picked up the bag to start packing when a firm knock made her jump. Without thinking, she opened the door.

Marcelo stood in the hallway, his brows raised in disapproval. “I told you not to open the door.”

“I knew it was you, moron.” Not exactly true but he didn’t need to know that.

“Liar.”

“Suck it!” She tried to slam the door but he caught it with his hand.

In less than a second he had her back to the wall, his hands up against it on either side of her head. “Is that an invitation?” he purred.

Yes. No! Maybe? Having a hard time finding her voice, she cleared her throat. “No,” she answered softly.

He stared down at her for too long. Lightening danced in his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his lips. At the memory of his spicy richness her tongue darted out wetting her own lips. She stopped when he leaned in so close his nose brushed a piece of her hair. Her eyes fluttered closed, her knees wobbled. He inhaled deeply and moaned.

Next to her ear his breath whispered against her. “Lock the door.”

Her eyes flew open and he was gone. Finally she collapsed onto the floor. What the hell was that? And even more important, why the hell did she like it?


Now available on amazon, barnes & noble, and smashwords.

Destiny Divided Revised

There seems to be some confusion about the correct version of Destiny Divided. To clear things up, I have revised the original version, where some helpful readers had pointed out some character flaws and a missing sex scene. I took every comment to heart and re-wrote the book. As of July 25th 2011, the new version is available in all e-book formats. It was updated sooner for kindle buyers. If you bought a copy before then, please pm me and I will get you the new version for free to replace it. Thank you for your patience.

- Leia Shaw

My First Book Trailer!

You can see my first book trailer, for Destiny United, right here on my author goodreads page.

Trailers seem to be the new thing in book marketing so I attempted one on my own. I really hope it's not too cheesy. Leave me a comment and let me know what you think.

Thanks and happy reading!

Leia Shaw

Not Sure if You'll Like My Book?

Interested in my new paranormal romance novel but not sure if you'll like it? Scroll down to my update feed and click on the links where I've posted excerpts.

I posted 4 or 5 different excerpts in the self-promotion section of several PNR groups. If you read them, you'll get a pretty good idea of what my book is about and my writing style.

Hope that helps!

- Leia

First Chapter Destiny United

Chapter 1

Marcelo elbowed his way through the crowded bar, growing more irritated with each step. Music assaulted his ears, vibrating painfully through his skull. He choked on the thick scent of tobacco, alcohol, and sex. Not good sex, but cheap, dirty sex. At least there were plenty of shadows for a vampire to fade into.
While walking to the counter he’d been bumped twice by drunk adolescents. One particularly rowdy juvenile spilled his drink on Marcelo’s boots. He loved these boots. His Queen owed him for this “small favor”. The next drunk frat boy that got within a foot of Marcelo would be growled at, fiercely.
One bold woman offered to buy him a drink. Interesting, he mused. It didn’t happen often, although he’d been told he was terrifyingly handsome. But Marcelo wasn’t there to drink or pick up women. Actually, that wasn’t quite true. He was there to pick up one very specific woman.
He turned on his phone and studied the picture his Queen had sent of her sister one more time, although he’d already committed it to memory. Erin Bolton. His hunt had landed him at a small liberal arts college in Albany, NY. He chuckled remembering the look on the students’ faces when he’d demanded to know Erin’s whereabouts. Sometimes it was good to be a vampire.
Hunting the girl had been the easy part. The next step would require a certain amount of finesse this battle-scarred vampire did not possess. He had to convince Erin to trust him, and then escort her to the Underworld.
He stared out into the sea of faces.
At the other end of the packed room, a woman jumped onto a table and yelled, “Let’s get some karaoke going!” Cheers erupted around her as she waved her hands in the air. Marcelo shook his head in disapproval. Date rape bait.
His mind drifted to the conversation he’d had with Sage, the Queen of the Underworld. “Five days,” she had said, “and I’ll meet you by the portal in Wales.” This was only day two. “Oh, and Marcelo, be gentle with her. She’s timid.”
Then what the hell was she doing in a bar like this?
With an aggravated sigh, he scanned the crowd for her again. More noise came from the table where the same girl was singing about putting a dime in a jukebox and loving rock and roll. He rolled his eyes. He remembered when music used to be good.
His gaze made its way up the girl’s body. Might as well get a good look since she insists on displaying herself. She wore brown leather cowboy boots, her slender calves changing to shapely thighs. Her short denim shorts were ripped up on the bottom and cut off at the perfect spot just below where the thigh met the buttocks. Her shirt was an almost see-through white billowy blouse covered with a brown leather vest. On top of her head was a matching brown cowboy hat. This girl, whoever she was, had sexy down to a science. No wonder the men were drooling over her.
Honey colored hair flowed down her back in loose curls as she shook all the right parts at all the right times. Her hair wisped wildly around her sweaty face. She threw her cowboy hat to a tall boy cheering loudly in the back then spun around giving Marcelo a full view of her face. Big brown eyes looked out into the crowd – eyes that looked oddly familiar.
Bloody hell!
Marcelo flipped to the photo on his phone again. He held up his phone next to the girl dancing provocatively on the bar table. It was the same girl though the phone displayed a much more innocent version with a bright smile. The sister he’d been sent to retrieve was drunk and dancing half naked on a table. And Sage had called her timid?
He took several determined steps forward, hurrying to finish this inconvenient side trip. Before he made it half way through the crowd, one distinctive word echoed above the noise around him.
“Fight!”
Oh shit. A glass bottle broke then the crowd turned vicious. Alcohol did that to hormonal adolescents, which was why he hated it – alcohol and adolescents.
Of course anyone who dared bump into Marcelo was thrown aside, but he feared for the girl. He’d made a promise to Sage to protect her sister, a job he took seriously. When he looked up at Erin, still on the table, it was just in time to see a beer bottle launched straight into her head. Shock filled her eyes as she staggered backwards. Marcelo shoved his way towards the table. He caught her when she tumbled off the ledge then cradled her against his chest. Up close, the girl was smaller than he’d thought. She weighed close to nothing.
He strode towards the exit with Erin hanging limply in his arms. The crowd parted once he slapped on his “get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way face”. He’d expected someone to fight him, or at least question him. He was a dangerous looking man carrying away a beautiful woman. But no one approached him. Was this woman here alone? Dressed like bait? Drunk with no one to watch over her?
He was irritated before but now he was downright fuming. He’d never been so glad to step out into the warm summer air. It wasn’t exactly fresh air, but it was enough to soothe his anger. The last thing he needed was for the human to wake up and see fangs poking out from under his lips.
After he checked over both shoulders to be sure he wasn’t followed, he turned down an empty alley. In Marcelo’s world you didn’t stay alive for long without being paranoid. Closing his eyes he concentrated on his intended location, a hotel room he’d reserved several blocks from where they stood.
Nothing happened. Puzzled, he tried again.
Still nothing. He stood in the piss and garbage filled alley, holding the unconscious girl in his arms, confused and growing angrier by the second. He’d never been unable to traverse before. So far Marcelo was the only vampire he knew that could traverse – or teleport, as his Queen called it – to any place he’d previously been. This ability was the only reason he’d agreed to perform this “small favor” in the first place. Traveling the mortal way held no appeal, especially toting a very breakable, easily killable, drunk-on-her-ass human.
After trying three more times, he gave up with an exhausted sigh. Yes, he and his Queen would be having a talk soon. He carried Erin the four blocks to the hotel, receiving plenty of odd stares, but still no one questioned him. When he reached the generic hotel room he gently laid the girl on the bed.
Scrubbing a hand over his unshaven face he stared at the body stretched out before him. Now what? Should he undress her to make her more comfortable for bed? Someone ought to smack him for that thought. If she woke up in a hotel room next to a stranger with nothing on but a bra and panties, she would surely have a fit. As it was, he expected some sort of panic when she awoke. Hopefully she had more sense than her sister and wouldn’t try anything foolish like attempting to fight him.
He brushed her hair away from her face to inspect the wound at her temple. He’d need to get ice when she awoke, but it didn’t look like a serious injury. Most likely she was passed out more from being drunk than from being hit. He combed his fingers through her hair; it was silky like Natalia’s. The small reminder made his heart heavy. How he missed her. But the similarities stopped there. Natalia had pale porcelain skin. Erin’s was a shade darker, almost matching her honey colored hair. She had unimaginably long thick lashes that spread delicately over her skin. As he looked her over, he realized everything about her was delicate. She was so fragile. So human. So mortal. Yet she’d ventured out, barely dressed, to a rowdy bar with no one to look after her? So foolish! He growled with an odd sense of protectiveness. It wasn’t his place but he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from giving her a stern lecture about her disregard for safety once she awoke.
Her fingers were long and thin, but he could see the tips of her fingernails were chewed off. A nail biter. Nasty habit. His eyes moved down her body and rested on her boots. Might as well take them off. Two reasons. One, it might be more comfortable for her to sleep. But more importantly, it would keep her from running. He tossed the boots under the bed.
How long would she remain unconscious? He wanted to feed but wouldn’t risk leaving her alone. He suppressed the urge to shake her awake, command her to stay put, then go in search of a woman to feed from. But Marcelo knew from experience, human women did not like being ordered around by men. His Queen had taught him that when she had tried to kill him only a few months ago. And all because he’d forced her to drink blood and steal the throne from her twisted father. Women were so temperamental.
With that in mind, Marcelo settled himself onto the bed and plotted the next place he would resume his hunt for Natalia.
Two hours later, the body next to his began to stir. A soft moan broke free from her lips. When her eyelids fluttered open, he sat up straight and said, “Be careful. You were hit hard. I’ll get some ice as soon as-”
Her eyes were pools of terror. “Be calm, female. I mean you no harm.” He put his hands up in a non-threatening gesture.
Before he could reassure her with an explanation about Sage, she flew off the bed and bolted into the bathroom, where she slammed and locked the door. She didn’t ask questions, didn’t threaten him, she didn’t even scream. He was glad he’d grabbed her boots. She was a runner.
Marcelo walked to the bathroom door, chuckling a bit about the lock. A steel door couldn’t stop him from getting through it. Not unless it was silver. Still, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her further.
He knocked. “Come out of there. We need to talk.” He waited for a response. Nothing. Feeling a flicker of frustration he barely stopped himself from twisting the doorknob and barging in. Patience, Marcelo. She needed reassurance, not a brute showing of strength. “Your sister, Sage, sent me to see you to safety.”
Still no response. “Please, open the door. I will not hurt you.” He could hear her heart racing with fear. But there was a chance she could have a concussion. Rather than waiting until it was too late, he took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob, breaking through the lock. If she was scared and mad, so be it. Safety came first.
As soon as he stepped a foot through the bathroom door, a glass vase whizzed towards his head. He barely dodged it before it thudded onto the carpeted bedroom floor.
For fuck’s sake. Timid my ass!
Erin stood in the corner, a bottle of sample shampoo clenched in her fist. He gave her his sternest expression. “Don’t do that again.”
She dropped the bottle and started gasping, dragging air into her lungs as if it were suddenly difficult. Her body slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Mierda! She was hyperventilating. He rushed to her side, kneeling on the bathroom floor, but she flinched away from him.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded. Her wide eyes darted around the room as if she were searching for invisible threats. No, not looking for threats. Marcelo was the threat. She was looking for an escape.
With a deep breath he softened his voice and tried to tone down the feral look in his eyes. “I’m sorry I scared you. But I am not going to hurt you. You can trust me.” The shallow breathing continued. She looked like she was going to faint any second. At least she’d be easier to deal with. He mentally kicked himself. That’s just not right.
“Will you not speak to me?” he asked the girl. She didn’t respond. “Do you need medical care? Should I take you to the hospital?”
She shook her head so hard he thought he heard it pop.
“Then calm down so we can talk.” When she continued to gulp air, he added, “Female, I will have no choice but to take you to the hospital if you do not calm down.” A tear slid down one cheek as she covered her mouth with trembling hands. “Aw, hell. Don’t cry.”
“Go…away,” she said between gasping breaths. “Or…my boyfriend…will…kill you.”
He repressed the urge to laugh out loud at the ridiculous threat. Instead he pressed his lips into a grim line. “I’m sorry, I can’t go away. Sage sent me to protect you. I’ll bring you to her as soon as possible but we need to get a few things straightened out first.”
Her breathing quickened, growing louder and more labored with each one. Seeing no other alternative, he dialed Sage’s number then thrust the phone into Erin’s shaking hands.
“Do you have her? Is she safe?” Sage’s voice rang clear on the other end. She must have heard the heavy breathing because she said, “Erin? Is that you?”
Erin inhaled sharply. “Yes...” Another gasp then she tried to form a sentence. “Who…who…what…”
“Fuck! I should’ve known this wouldn’t go well. Look, just calm down. I know Marcelo isn’t Mr. Personality but he won’t hurt you.” Erin continued to breathe raggedly into the receiver. “Slow down, Dot. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Marcelo will take care of you. I promise. You can trust him with your very life. Just calm down.”
“I’m…trying…”
“Hey, remember when I punched that kid Joey in the face cause he called you a freak? The principle was going to expel me but you convinced him my fist had Tourettes.”
Erin choked on a laugh but the distraction seemed to calm her enough to listen to reason. Though Marcelo could hear Sage as clearly as if she were in the room, he kept his concentration on Erin’s eyes. They narrowed, taking him in with skepticism as Sage described his appearance. So mistrustful. He supposed it was only fair. If she’d had a life similar to Sage’s, then she had every right to be mistrustful. Once Sage had confirmed who he was, relief washed over her features. Marcelo smiled when her heart rate slowed to a steady pace. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his own breath until he finally exhaled.
“I’ll see you soon,” Sage said. “Miss you, Dot.”
“I…miss you too.”
She shut the phone then looked up at him with those big brown eyes. No, not brown. Amber, with flecks of orange and black. Captivating.
“Will you speak to me now?”
She shook her head.
“Just one little word?” he coaxed with a half-smile.
She stared at her hands for a long moment, then inhaled deeply and squeaked a meek, “Hi.”
He offered her a comforting smile. She scooted back an inch. Guess I need to work on that. “You’re going to have one hell of a hangover.”
She winced and nodded. Sage had been right, Erin was timid. Then why had she been dancing on a bar table? He shrugged. Wasn’t his problem.
“Come then. Let’s get you some coffee. I won’t be bringing you to your sister half dead.”
She took his outstretched hand and he helped her off of the bathroom floor.
“We need to treat your head wound as well. How do you feel standing up? Are you dizzy?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared it with a cough.
“I think you’ll be okay. Coffee first. Then I’ll get ice for your head.”
She nodded, pulling on her boots when he handed them to her. Silently she followed him out the hotel door towards the 24 hour gas station and snack shop across the street. Marcelo smiled to himself. Maybe this would be easier than he’d thought. Although he was still confused and worried that he hadn’t been able to traverse that night, at least the girl followed directions well. Not like her sister at all. He stepped over a bum passed out against a garbage can. The store’s florescent lights stood out against the black of night. Outside the snack shop, Erin froze.
“I’ll wait here,” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.
He shook his head. “Not possible. You go where I go.” Clearly she didn’t know the danger she was in. They’d be having a talk about that later.
“Not in there.” She gestured to the store with her eyes.
“I’m not asking,” he said with a warning growl. Perhaps he had spoken too soon about her willingness to follow his orders. Either way, she needed to know that they would be doing things his way. And better to clear that up right away.
“No!” She took one shaky step back.
What the hell is wrong with this girl? “Why not?” he demanded. She didn’t answer but she tensed as if she were going to flee. “Damn it, tell me!” She shook her head. “If you won’t give me answers I’ll assume you’re being difficult. In which case I’ll throw you over my shoulder and march you in there myself.”
Her skin paled at least three shades. Her eyes turned to saucers as air hissed in and out of her mouth. A wild heartbeat reverberated in his ears. She smelled like fear.
Grasping Erin’s elbow he pulled her down an alley, stopping under the brick building’s outside light. She leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands on her knees, calming her breaths. Marcelo looked from the store, to Erin’s face, then back again.
Realization struck. “Are you having a panic attack?” he asked.
She cringed and nodded.
“Because of this store?”
Another nod.
“Only this store?”
She gazed up at him, auburn eyes peeking from under thick lashes. Slowly she shook her head.
“Everywhere?” he asked, praying to gods she said no.
“Just about,” she answered.
He staggered back several steps. “Bloody hell!” He rubbed his hand against his forehead as if soothing a headache. Only vampires didn’t get headaches. “Bloody, bloody hell.”
***
I hate when they do that.
Erin watched the towering figure pace before her. He was obviously irritated about her…disability. Most people were, once they found out exactly what it meant. Erin had social anxiety. Anytime she was around new people, she panicked. No grocery stores, no restaurants, and no shopping malls for her. Not without alcohol. Lots of alcohol. Which was why she often drank. It was the only time she felt free. Free of fear. Free of anxiety. She could be herself. Well, a really loose, reckless, impulsive version of herself.
She trusted the man her sister had sent only because she trusted her sister. I wonder if he knows she’s not my real sister. Sage and Erin had spent several years in the same foster home as children. They were the closest thing either of them had to family. And they’d fiercely protected one another throughout their lives. Erin knew without a shadow of a doubt that Sage would never have sent someone who would hurt her. So she felt like she could give Marcelo a little push in the right direction.
“Is it that big of a deal to just let me wait outside?” she asked though she knew he wasn’t upset about the coffee. “I’m not going anywhere. And you can see me from the window.”
He whipped his head around to pin her with a stern glare. “Yes it’s a big deal!” he snapped. “Clearly you don’t understand the danger you’re in.” She didn’t, really. All she knew was some wizards were after her and it had something to do with Sage. It was no surprise to Erin. Her sister was good at pissing people off. “You stay by me at all times until this is over, is that clear?” The menacing look on his face was enough to make her nod her head in agreement.
Taking out her arsenal of weapons, she slapped on her most charming expression. “But,” she said, taking a tentative step towards him, “you could just run in real quick and grab me a coffee couldn’t you? It would only take a minute.” She shrugged with an innocent smile. “In, out, no big deal.”
He stopped pacing to face her with an arched a brow. “I could say the same to you, querida.”
Damn. He’s got me there. She hung her head then looked up at him with the puppy dog eyes she’d mastered over the years. She knew the moment he became putty in her hands. He inhaled deeply then ended in a long, drawn out sigh. “All right. I’ll get you coffee. But you are to stand here,” he dragged her by the arm and placed her in front of the store window, “and you don’t move. Understand?”
It was a tad overdramatic for her taste, but she nodded. Hopefully she wouldn’t have to deal with him for long. In only the few minutes they’d spent together she could already tell he was arrogant, overbearing, and…grumpy. She couldn’t help but feel like she was the reason for his bitterness.
At least he wasn’t bad to look at. No, he was sexy as hell. Tall, dark, and handsome came to mind. Only, replace handsome with terrifyingly delicious and you would be spot on. His black leather pants hugged his backside perfectly. His powerful thighs, thick and rooted like tree trunks, were wrapped cozily in the soft pliable leather. Men just don’t wear leather pants enough anymore, she thought, nibbling her lip, staring shamelessly while he waited in line. Thick raven hair framed his gorgeous bronzed face reaching his chin. His face was rough and strained, but it was handsome in a rugged Hugh Jackman as Wolverine kind of way.
She gave her head a shake. I have a boyfriend! She shouldn’t be drooling over a friend of Sage’s when she was completely happy in her current relationship. That reminded her, Jimmy would be back from poker night soon. He’d be worried if he found the apartment empty. She would text him as soon as she found out from this mystery protector what the hell was going on.
Coffee in hand, Erin followed her bodyguard back to their room where he ordered her to sit on the bathroom counter so he could treat her wound. She insisted it was fine but the unbending look on his face told her she should just go along with it. She hopped onto the counter while he ran cold water over a washcloth.
“You never told me your name,” she said, pulling back her hair to give him access to her wound.
He leaned forward to study her temple. “Marcelo.” His breath whispered across her skin giving her goose bumps.
“Marcelo? Is that Italian?”
“Spanish.”
His accent mixed with his rich, husky voice was hot enough to melt ice on any Albany winter day. Brown eyes as dark as chocolate flickered back and forth between fury and a strange sort of warmth. Just when she was about to ask if he was from Spain strong fingers gripped her jaw and tilted her head to the side. She flinched when he pressed the washcloth to the wound.
Immediately he backed off, his eyes filled with concern. “Did I hurt you?”
She smiled. Hm…maybe there’s a gentleman under all that uncombed hair and surly exterior after all. “A little, but I can take it.”
Marcelo nudged her knees apart and settled his hips between them. He leaned in so close she could hear his heartbeat. Or maybe that was her own. Yep. Her heart was pounding ferociously in her chest. She never would have guessed hands as big as his could be so gentle. Warmth poured off of him, wrapping her in his scent. Inviting, relaxing, seducing. Pure male. She almost moaned out loud in pleasure.
Snap out of it, Erin! You’re being ridiculous! Even the sting of the alcohol he dabbed on her head wasn’t enough to stop her from breathing him in and feeling the sudden urge to just melt into him.
“What were you doing at that bar alone, Erin?” he asked, breaking the silence with a cool voice. Something about his tone and the way he’d used her name made her feel like she was about to be scolded. It was enough to snap her out of the strange hypnotic trance his body had induced.
“Umm…just having a couple drinks…with some friends,” she answered casually. But she’d never been a good liar.
Marcelo lowered his head and looked her in the eye. Yup, he saw right through her. “You cannot lie to me. I was there, remember? I caught you when you tumbled from the table you were dancing on. And you didn’t have just a few drinks. You were quite drunk.”
A chuckle escaped her. “No…I was tanked.” But it had been fun and she had no regrets. “Ow!” she cried when he scrubbed the dried blood viciously from her head. What happened to the gentle giant?
With a disappointed sigh, he wet the washcloth again and soothed the sore area with gentle strokes. “Why do you laugh about getting drunk? You could have been raped. You don’t know how men think when they see a girl like you dressed up like…this,” he said waving a hand at her clothing. She furrowed her brow. What was he trying to say? She looked like a slut? “And when I left with you, I saw no friends step forward to defend you. You put yourself in a very dangerous situation, cosita.”
“Well aren’t you a downer,” she grumbled to herself, mostly because she knew he was right.
With a sideways glance he plopped a towel filled with ice into her hand. “Put this on your head.” She frowned. It was just a little bump, wasn’t it?
She opened her mouth to argue then shut it when he arched a challenging brow. This was a man used to getting what he wanted. I better pick my battles. Slapping the ice onto her head she jumped down from the counter. “So, what do we do now?”
“Now I take you to your sister.”
“Where is she?” Sage had been vague about her location in the last few months. The more questions Erin asked, the less she heard from her. But they were the kind of friends that could go a long time without talking then pick up right where they’d left off. It was the perfect relationship for people like them. For people who’d grown up never really having a home, never having a family.
Ignoring her question, Marcelo turned away and strolled into the bedroom. “Where’s your car? Is it at the bar?”
She followed him, ice against her head. “Yes, it is. Now, are you hard of hearing or just ignoring me?”
He paused at her sour tone then dropped his gaze. “I better let her explain where she is.”
She scrunched her nose in displeasure. “Okay. What about the wizards-”
“Sorcerers.”
“Whatever. What do they want with me?”
“I better let her answer that as well.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, attempting to tame her rising frustration. “Is there anything you can tell me?”
He ran a hand over his chin, studying her face as if the answer were written on it. Uh-oh. She knew that look. Either Marcelo was going to lie to her, or, at bare minimum, give her half-truths. “There is a group of sorcerers who want you in custody. We think it has to do with Sage but we don’t know for certain. They are powerful and dangerous. I will protect you until I hand you over to Sage and James.” She scowled at the implication that she was some sort of package. “This can happen quickly if you cooperate.” He gave her a weighted glare that irritated her. As if she weren’t already doing everything he told her! “Also,” he continued, “we’ll be traveling to Colorado. Together.” Then he was inches from her face so fast she flinched. “And as I said before, you do not leave my side!”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”
She’d meant to be sarcastic but he smiled and said, “Now you’re getting it.”
Rolling her eyes again she watched him walk to the window. With graceful movements, he opened the curtains and stared into the night. It wasn’t just his looks that made her breath hitch and her knees tremble, it was his very presence. Powerful. Confident. He took over the room and everyone in it with a quiet sort of strength. It sucked you in and held you captive as you found yourself ready to do everything and anything he asked with no question or hesitation. It was dangerous. He was dangerous.
Marcelo turned back around to face her, surprising her with the depth in those chocolate brown eyes. Rich and deep, swirls of midnight black threaded through the tawny brown. “How did Sage know the sorcerers were interested in you? Did they try to hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Two of them came to my apartment.” She had known they were up to no good straightaway. They had been too friendly. No one dressed up like FBI agents but acting like preschool teachers should be trusted. Jimmy had convinced them she wasn’t home though she’d stood just inside the door, listening to every word. “They said Sage was in danger and needed my help. I knew it was a lie. Sage would never send for me if it involved danger. We’ve always protected each other. Plus, she can take care of herself.” Marcelo’s brows shot up. “Why do you look so surprised?”
A lip curled on one side. She wasn’t sure if it was in amusement or disgust. With Sage, it could go either way. “I happen to have an interesting history with your sister.” Before she could question him, he asked, “How’s your head?”
She lowered the icepack. “Cold.”
His lips twitched. “Leave the icepack. Let’s go get your car.” He opened the door to the hallway.
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now. The faster I get you to Sage, the faster I can get on with my life.”
Well, when you put it like that… “Look, it’s obvious you don’t want to be here. Just take me to my boyfriend. He can bring me to Colorado just as easily.” She shook her head roughly, then muttered, “Not that I even believe Sage is th-”
“That will not be happening.”
She arched a brow. “Why? Because of the danger?” When he nodded she insisted, “Jimmy can keep me safe.”
Marcelo let the door slam shut and took one intimidating step towards her. “Really? Did Sage tell you about werewolves?”
She shook her head. She’d only heard about sorcerers and witches – her sister was both. Sage had also told her to stay away from anyone too good looking to be real, and anyone who gets furry on the new moon. Vampires and werewolves. It hadn’t taken much for Erin to believe her. Ever since Sage had begun blowing things up with a single thought and making thunderstorms appear in sunny skies, Erin had begun to believe that anything was possible.
Marcelo took another step closer, making an exaggerated effort to loom over her. In a dark voice he explained, “Sorcerers are known to hire werewolves to hunt their prey.” Prey? She shuddered. “Werewolves are just under seven feet tall with shoulders wider than that doorframe.” He gestured with his eyes towards the door. “When they turn to their crinos form, half wolf, half human, they get even bigger. Their fingers turn into claws with nails five inches long and as pointy as daggers. They grow upper and lower fangs and their jaws extend big enough to fit my entire fist in their mouth. They are fast and unbelievably strong.” His gaze roamed her body in a disturbing way. “Strong enough to snap you in half like a twig. And vampires are no better. They are just as deadly, only worse because they often look like ordinary people. You wouldn’t even know if you were talking to one.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “That’s who’s hunting you, querida. Still think your boyfriend can keep you safe?”
Erin stared at him, careful not to show any fear. Sage may have sent someone who wouldn’t hurt her but that didn’t mean Erin was stupid enough to believe everything that came out of his mouth. And this guy looked like trouble.
He looked deep into her eyes, seeming to search her very soul. It was more unsettling than the visual of the werewolves he’d just given her. Averting her gaze, she stepped back and dug into her pockets for her phone. They were empty. Where the hell-
“Looking for this?” he said, holding her phone in his palm.
“You stole my phone?” Okay, the dictatorship is officially annoying.
He shrugged. “I merely caught it as it fell from your pocket while you were shamelessly dancing half naked on a table top.”
Lips pursed, she held back a string of profanities. “If you think you can make me feel guilty about that, you’re wrong. Now give it back!” She thrust her hand towards him, palm up.
“Not likely.” Was he holding back a grin? Amused by her anger?
She lunged for the phone but he yanked it away at the last second. With an irritated huff she gave up. Marcelo outweighed her by at least one hundred pounds. She wasn’t about to fight him for it.
“You won’t allow me to at least tell my boyfriend I’m okay?” she asked in her sweetest voice.
“Already did. Sent a text while you were sleeping. Now get going.” He opened the door and held it with an arrogant smirk. Just go with it, she told herself. You’ll soon be rid of him and reunited with Sage. Repressing a growl, she stomped through the door.
He was so silent behind her that she looked over her shoulder to be sure he followed. When she saw his eyes glued to her ass, she sighed. Men! “Eyes up, Lieutenant.”
***
Marcelo didn’t want to be staring at her ass but it was inevitable with the way she walked, hips flaring perfectly from her tiny waist, long thin legs below an adorable backside. He wanted to squeeze it, pat it, massage it, watch it bounce as he took her from behind. He wanted to grasp it in his palms as she rode him from above.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, reining back the wild images. Someone should smack him. He’d been long without a woman. Too long.
Outside he took the lead as they walked the four blocks to the bar. The air was hot and sticky for June in northern New York. Marcelo had spent several months in the area in 2004 hunting down a rogue demon that had been wreaking havoc across the state. The demon had somehow managed to set every New Yorker’s ring tone to “What’s New Pussy Cat?” by Tom Jones. Oddly, the suicide rate that year had been exceptionally high.
He hadn’t loved Albany in 2004 and he didn’t love it now. But as he’d traveled most of the world in his eight hundred and forty three years, there were worse places. Nebraska came to mind.
After several silent minutes he turned to check on his protection detail. She was chewing on a fingernail and staring into the darkness around them.
“Are you nervous?”
She shrugged. “A little.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she repeated. “Do I really have to spell it out? Bad…things…are chasing me. I have no idea what’s going on with my sister. I’m leaving everything normal behind me for who knows how long. And I’m traveling across the country with a stranger.” She stopped her escalating tirade to take a deep breath. “Speaking of,” she glared up at him accusingly, “what are you?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Sage wouldn’t send a human to protect me from supernaturals and you sure as hell aren’t a sorcerer.”
Marcelo snorted. “And what would you know about sorcerers?” He shortened his stride so they were side by side.
“I know they are gentlemen. They are honorable and noble.” She raked her gaze over his body. “You are none of those things.”
He held his arms out to the side in mock surprise. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman. What have I done wrong?”
She put up a hand to count on her fingers. “You scared the crap out of me when I first woke up. You broke down a door. You stole my phone. You’ve done nothing but boss me around and-”
“All right,” he grumbled, running a hand over the back of his neck. “You made your point. I’m not a sorcerer, as it turns out.”
“Which leads me back to my first question. What are you?”
“Guess.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. Why did he have the sudden urge to take over with that lip? “Werewolf?”
He scoffed.
“Are you a witch like Sage?”
Another scoff.
“Well I don’t know! What else is there? A vampire?”
He had to give her an answer one way or another, but he hadn’t been looking forward to this conversation. Staring down at the cracks in the pavement he prayed to the gods she wouldn’t start hyperventilating again. “Yes, I am vampire.”
“Great,” she grumbled. “That’s just great.”
“It is?”
“No!” This woman was as confusing as they come. “You’re going to drink my blood, aren’t you?” Before he could answer she ground her teeth together and clenched her little fists. “I’m gonna kill Sage for sending-”
“Will you be quiet?” he snapped. “I am not going to drink your blood. I have ways of feeding that won’t involve you.”
She waited a moment before declaring, “I want a gun.”
His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “For what?”
“Protection.”
“You have me. And trust me, I’m more effective than any gun.”
“I want it for protection against you, clueless!”
Protection against me? First, he was angry. After all he’d done she still thought he would hurt her? And she planned to arm herself with a gun? Then a short bark of laughter erupted from his chest. “Querida, a gun will not kill me. It wouldn’t even hurt me. It’d be the equivalent of a bee sting.”
With an exasperated sigh, she said, “I know that. But how am I supposed to protect myself if you attack me by accident? What if I get a cut and you go all…vampire crazy?”
“Vampire crazy?”
“Yeah, like sharks in a feeding frenzy.”
It took all his restraint not to laugh out loud again. Humans watch far too much television. “Querida, your imagination is out of control. I will not drink from you, no matter how much you bleed. I give you my word.”
“That means jack-squat to me.”
“Jack who?”
“I’m saying I don’t trust your word.”
He sighed realizing she wasn’t going to let this go. When he spied the necklace dangling on her chest he said, “Your necklace, is it silver?”
She fingered it. “Yes.”
“Give it to me.” He put out a hand.
“Why?”
His voice softened. “So mistrustful.” She nibbled on her nail again. “Do you want to know how you can protect yourself from a vampire?”
With a nod she unhooked the necklace – an oval locket hanging from a platinum chain – and held it out to him. Muscles tensed in preparation for the pain. He grasped the chain with his fingers then draped the locket on his arm to demonstrate the effect silver had on vampires. He watched her face to distract him from the blistering pain as the layers of skin began to sizzle and peel away. She gasped then yanked the necklace away.
“Are you okay?” Taking his hand in her tiny one, she pulled it close to inspect the wounds. Her hands were soft like velvet against his course skin. It was almost worth the searing pain just to feel her touch. When his arm healed before he eyes she gave him a stern look. “Why did you do that?” Her concern for him was so heart-warming he had the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss the fear right out of her.
“To show you that you already have a weapon against me. In case I go ‘vampire crazy’. Do you feel better now?” She shrugged. “Do you still have need for a gun?” He couldn’t stop his lip from twitching in amusement.
She hesitated. “You promise to keep your fangs to yourself?”
As much as he’d love to do exactly the opposite of that, he nodded and put a hand to his heart. “I promise, querida.”
***
Erin knew any sane person would have been as comfortable traveling with a vampire as with a self-confessed serial killer. And she was probably the biggest moron in the universe for placing her safety in the hands of a six and a half foot tall vampire, but what other choice did she have? Besides, Marcelo didn’t seem like he’d be taking “no” for an answer.
When they reached her car, an old beat up silver Hyundai Accent, she went to open the driver’s side door. She barely felt him behind her when a big palm landed on the handle.
She looked up into the dark, predatory face staring down at her. “I will be driving,” he said, his eyes daring her to challenge him.
“It’s my car.”
“You are a human. I would not put my life in your incapable hands.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “Aren’t you immortal?”
He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the darkness. His lips may have been smiling but his eyes were warning. “I would not put your life in your incapable hands. I’m in charge of your safety now, which means I am in charge of you. I’ve never lost someone in my care before and I have no intention of starting now.” He thrust his open hand towards her. “Now hand me the keys.”
Her chest tightened and she had to force air into her lungs. Not because of a panic attack but for an entirely different reason. Anger flooded her. She couldn’t hold back a response to his blatant disrespect, not even if she had to tolerate him temporarily. They needed to get a few things straight. “Not only is that insulting but do you really think to order me around this whole trip? That may work on other ‘females’, as you say, but it will not work on me!”
Marcelo’s eyes darkened and narrowed, his teeth snapped together echoing across the parking lot. She gulped. Perhaps provoking the vampire was a bad idea, she thought as the image of poking a wild bear with a stick came to mind. Subconsciously she grabbed onto her locket. He didn’t miss that, and she thought she saw a flash of humor in his eyes before it was gone. Replaced with a sort of lustful anger.
With his chest only inches from her face, he bent down and whispered in her ear, “Under normal circumstances, querida, should you have an issue with my request, I would seduce you, doing unimaginable things to your body that would make your toes curl until you did as I please.” A shudder traveled the length of her spine. “But since you are in danger – something you forget far too easily – I will be giving orders and you will be following them.” Her mouth snapped open in shock. She wasn’t sure what was worse, that she was scared shitless or curious about this toe curling. Marcelo stepped back, keeping that black look on her. “If you have a problem with that, take it up with your sister. She’s the one who sent me.”
Erin forced her mouth to close and squared her shoulders. “I will take it up with her. Give me my phone so I can call her and have her send someone else in your place.”
“No.”
Surely he’s jesting. “No?”
“That’s what I said.” He crossed his arms in front of his massive chest.
“How am I supposed to take it up with her if you won’t let me talk to her?”
“I’m sure she’s indisposed at the moment so you will just have to wait until you see her in a few days.”
Erin’s eyes grew wide. “But…that…doesn’t even-” she sputtered through an incoherent sentence. She was so mad she actually stomped a foot.
“Until then, my rules. Now hand me the keys.” A cocky smirk crossed the vampire’s face. She wanted to wipe it right off with her fist, which shocked her. She wasn’t normally a violent person.
Cursing under her breath she slapped her keys into his palm and slid into the passenger seat, slumping down with her arms crossed. “When does the flight leave for Colorado? I can’t wait to be done with this.”
He didn’t answer. Worse, he seemed hesitant. Like he was holding back information she wouldn’t like. “We don’t have tickets, do we?” she guessed. When he still didn’t answer she knew she was right. “If you take me to my apartment we can buy airplane tickets and I can pack some clothes.”
“Your apartment?” he said. “Don’t you think the Counsel is already waiting for you there? Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”
“How will you buy tickets? Unless you have a smart phone, which I don’t-”
“We’re not flying. We’re driving.”
She shot upright in her seat. “What? You can’t be serious! That will take forever!”
He jammed the keys in the ignition and her car thundered to life. Marcelo’s body shook from the vibrations of a motor with a blown piston. The engine roared, the gear shift fought to stay in first, the back window was jammed half open, and the heat was stuck on full blast. Yes, her car was a beast. Slowly she turned her head and gave him the biggest, cheekiest grin she could. The look on his face was priceless.
“Still want to drive to Colorado?” she asked, smiling brightly.
With a grunt he forced the stubborn shifter into reverse and backed out of the parking spot so fast Erin flew forward and might have gone through the windshield had Marcelo not stopped her with an arm across her chest. He slammed on the brakes, grabbed her seat belt, pulled it around her body then snapped it in place. It all happened so fast she hadn’t even finished drawing in a breath.
“Safety first,” he chirped in a perky voice that made her want to run him over with the car. “Now, do you really think I’m going to take someone prone to panic attacks on an airplane?”
Erin had never flown before, but she and Jimmy had been saving to take a trip to California next summer so she’d already put some thought into how to handle flying. “That’s what the little bottles of alcohol are for. I’ll just take my anti-anxiety meds before the flight then keep me loaded and I’ll be fine.”
He scowled down at her.
“Think about it,” she said. “It will be at least four days stuck in a car. With me. If we fly, that’s three days off our trip.”
He sighed heavily, his scowl deepening. “Fine. We will fly. But no alcohol!”
That was going to be a problem. “Marcelo, I need alcohol and my medication to get on an airplane. There is no way around it.”
“I said no. You will just have to do without.”
“You can’t force me onto an airplane, I’m pretty sure they frown on th-”
“I will not be forcing you. I have leverage.”
He meant Sage, of course. Fear and desperation coursed through her. Her breaths came faster, her cheeks heated, and she suddenly wanted to hit something. Or someone. “If you try to force me onto that plane, Marcelo, I swear to you I will scream in the security line that you’re a terrorist and…and…that you have nail clippers in your bag!”
She thought he was simply annoyed before, but now there was no mistaking his fury. But it was a quiet fury, which was often worse. “You dare threaten me? You will find, querida, that when it comes to dealing with vampires, it’s best just to do as you’re told.”
She gulped but jutted her chin out in defiance. “You even look like a terrorist. That will work to my advantage.”
He growled low in his throat and gripped the steering wheel so hard she thought it might crack under his palm. “All right. You can have one or two drinks before the flight.”
“And my medicine?”
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Are you afraid then?” She tsked under her tongue. “Damn, I thought Sage would have sent the best. Well, I guess I understand. I’ve heard that sorcerers are very powerful. They could probably kick your ass without even touching you, couldn’t they?”
His jaw tightened, and, in a voice strained with fury, he said, “Where’s your bloody apartment?”

Destiny United Release!

Destiny United, book 2 in the Shadows of Destiny series, is finally released! It is available on Smashwords as I'm writing this. Amazon is still processing it, but it should be available in the next day or two there as well. In the next couple weeks it will be available on the Nook, as well as other e-readers I won't name, and in print. Check out my website for more information. www.leiashaw.com

Destiny United features ancient vampire, Marcelo, who has lived the last 800 years in a state of despair over the disappearance of his wife. Sage's former foster sister, Erin, is the heroine. Trapped in a cycle of anxiety, medicated with alcohol, her world is turned upside down when Marcelo forces her out of her sheltered life and into the real world. As they travel to the portal to the Underworld and encounter danger along the way, Erin learns just how strong she really is. And Marcelo begins to hope for happiness again.

If you have written a review for Destiny Divided, send me a message and I'll give you a coupon code to get Destiny United for free (provided you review it too). Hope you spread the word but most of all, I hope you enjoy the book!

Leia Shaw

Interview with Sage

This is a character interview I did for a review website with Sage, the main character in my first book. I had so much fun with it I just had to post it here.



1. Where do you live?
The Underworld is where I make my humble abode.



2. Where are you from?
Albany. Not much different from the Underworld. I transitioned well.



3. What are you called? Any nicknames?
Oh, let's see. Your Majesty, Queen Eirian, Sage the Exalted One. To James, I'm just caru. It means "love" in Welsh.



4. What do you do for a living?
Manage unruly supernaturals. Wage war with those pricks from the Sorcery Counsel. General ass-kicking. James would say my job is to please him in bed. He assumes much.



5. How do you deal with conflict and change?
Deep breathing. Count to ten. Relax in my zen garden. Blow shit up.



6. Who else is in your life?
James, my sexy Welsh mate. My foster sister, Erin. Marcelo, the vampire bastard that made me- oh, wait, I'm not supposed to give that part away. Well, I've since forgiven him and now we're friends. Maddox is cool, for a sorcerer.



7. What are your hobbies and interests?
Martial arts. Sleeping in. Trying to take over the world. Photography.



8. How did you meet the person of your dreams?
I haven't yet. But James will do until I find my prince- Ow! He just kicked me under the table. Alright, alright. To be honest, James is the man I didn't know I dreamed of. And frankly, I don't deserve him. When we met, I was squatting in the basement of the college he worked at. He threatened me and I tried to kill him. With some convincing, (cough) blackmail (cough), I agreed to live with him and train as a sorceress. And, well, here we are nine months later, in love. Alright, now you can all say, "awww..." Only once or I'll throw up on you.



9. What is your best quality? What is your worst?
Best: I'm sarcastic. Worst: I'm sarcastic.



10. What is the one thing you wish people knew about you?
Underneath my hard exterior, I'm just a vulnerable, sweet little puppy. (Pause followed by hysterical laughter). I can't do it. (Laughter dying down). I just can't do it with a straight face. No, really. The one thing you should know is...DON'T CROSS ME!



11. What is your biggest secret and the one thing you don't want anybody to know?
If I didn't want anybody to know, why would I tell you? Ow! Stop kicking me! Okay, fine, I'll play nice. I still have my My Little Pony collection.



12. What are you most afraid of?
NOTHING!



13. What do you want more than anything?
World peace? No, seriously. Umm...for the people I care about to live long and happy lives. Damn it! Now I sound all vulnerable and sweet, don't I? Scratch that last question. No, really, scratch it.