roxannerhoads

Excerpt:

“What do you expect to find in my bags?” she asked.

Agent Gonzalez stared at her, and rather than answer what she thought was a pretty logical question, he threw another softball. “I’ll ask you one more time. Do you give your consent to allow us to search your bags? I’m warning you now that I have a federal judge on standby in the event you say no, so one way or another, I will search these bags today. It’s just a matter of whether this will go quickly or take a few hours. Up to you.”

Her heart pounded against the inside of her chest, wanting to run away. She felt much the same way. Not that she thought he’d find anything. It was the absolute certainty she saw on his face that said he knew he’d find something.

“What’s going on?” she asked, hating the meek sound in her voice.

“Juliette—”

“Yes! Yes, you can search my bags, my—my body, but you won’t find anything in, or rather, on them.”

 Agent Gonzalez unzipped her suitcase.

“After you find nothing, I expect an explanation for what’s going on.” There, that sounded firm. Not shaky, like what her insides were doing.

Agent Watson relieved her of her backpack and purse but placed them on the table and didn’t go through them. Instead, he kept his attention on what Agent Gonzalez was doing, though she knew without a doubt she had his full attention too.

Gonzalez removed her clothing in a systematic fashion, placing items one at a time on the table next to the suitcase. Out came her dirty clothes, which lay on top, jeans, dresses, and her underwear. Her cheeks heated as he continued, his movements slow and thorough.

He got to the bottom, having removed everything from within. Her things were scattered across the table like some bizarre game of Clue.

“See?” she said. “Nothing.”

Agent Watson didn’t move, but Gonzalez sure did. He reached inside her suitcase and felt around the corners, then yanked. The sound of fabric tore.

“Hey! What are you doing?” He tossed the fabric aside, and black plastic square packages were stacked inside in a neat and orderly fashion. Had to be about a dozen of them, at least five to six inches in width.

Shock rooted her to the spot for a few moments. “Wait. What is that?” she asked and took a step forward.

Watson held up a hand in front of her. “Ma’am, please stay back.”

“What is that?” she asked him again, hearing the rising hysteria in her voice.

Gonzalez pulled out one package and produced a pocketknife from somewhere, then cut into the wrapping. Everything around her moved in slow motion until she swore the world had ceased to spin. Her attention stayed riveted to the white powder that came out on the shiny blade.

“Gonna need a test kit,” he said to Watson. The other agent immediately set the bags beside the table, at the farthest reach from her, and left the room.

“Agent Gonzalez,” she said, sounding like she pleaded, because she did. She’d never seen that stuff before in her life. “That’s not mine. What’s going on?”

He pulled out twelve packages, and yes, she counted every single one, before grabbing another black trash bag that someone had taped to the inside of her luggage frame. Once he opened that, several brown baggies came tumbling out. She gasped.

No wonder her bag had been so heavy.

Only then, after the whole horrid nightmare was laid out on the table, all the ugliness next to her things, her clothes, and her bag of toiletries, did he look up at her. “Ms. Scaglione,” he said, reverting to formalities, “the intel we received was there would be someone on your plane, matching your description and carrying a suitcase with over ten kilos of cocaine and about a hundred baggies of heroin. Although I haven’t tested it yet, I can tell you I’d bet my next paycheck that’s what is right here.”

“But it’s not mine.” Dryness coated the inside of her mouth, as if cotton balls had been shoved inside and sucked up all the moisture.

“Are those your clothes?” he asked.

She nodded.

“This your bag?” She nodded, getting where he headed. “Yes, but those drugs are not mine!”

“Of course, they aren’t.” But he said the words as if he didn’t believe her.

“They aren’t!” she yelled.

He slammed his hands on the table and leaned toward her.

A Wolf Christmas Wedding

I looked at my reflection in the large ornate mirror that the First King carved—a gift to his bride. He was the first one to command the demon wolves. The lore was only his descendent with his matching green eyes could bond with the wolves.

And that was me.

Not my evil uncle who had murdered my parents.

My aunt Remi stood behind me. Her red hair matched my own and her beaming smile warmed my heart. She clasped my arms and rested her head on my shoulder. Tears brimmed in her green eyes. “You look beautiful, Salem. Your parents would be so proud.”

I patted her hand. “Thank you.”

My hair was in a French braid with white roses woven in between the strands. My white dress reminded me of something what Cinderella would wear at the ball with the white roses around my neckline and at the bottom of my gown. It was so unlike me, but I wanted to forget my stormy past and start a new world of shining hope.

Today was the day. The day I would be queen.

And today I would marry the man of my dreams.

My aunt kissed my cheek. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this day.”

I smiled through my tears. “Stop, or I’ll smear my mascara.”

My demon wolves, Luna, Bella, Nico, and Remus, stood behind her like sentinels. They were actually from the Elder Dimension where the Unseelie lived. Strange to know that I had an ancestor who was an Unseelie, and that’s why they responded to me. My beautiful wolves followed me everywhere and if I needed them again, we’d become one again.

Remi clasped my shaking hand. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes.” I lowered my head. “I thought more people would be excited that King Calvin was overthrown.”

She sighed and lifted my chin. “Change is hard for people, even when it’s positive. In time, they’ll grow to love you like I have.”

I looked lovingly down at my wolves. “I think they’re afraid of them.”

“Unfortunately, your uncle distilled a fear of the demon wolves. It was a way for him to bend the people to his will.”

Anger flashed in my eyes. “He deserved to die.”

Remi rubbed my back. “Today is a joyous day, Salem. Let’s forget the past and concentrate on the future.” She winked. “Besides, a gorgeous man is waiting for you.”

My heart leapt, sending anticipation running through my veins. Mateo was my mate and now he would be king regent. I could reign as long as he was at my side.

I brushed my wet cheeks. “You’re right.”

Someone knocked on the door softly. “Salem, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“We’re all waiting for you.” Ebony peeked into the room wearing a strapless red velvet gown. She was my matron of honor, and she looked beautiful with her white hair piled onto her head, topped off with a red rose crown.

I braced my shoulders. “I’m ready.” But my voice shook.

Ebony walked over to me and took my trembling hands. “I know hard this is, Ebony. I’m still trying to win over the hearts of the dark demons. Being queen isn’t easy, but you have a strong man at your side.”

The demon wolves let out a menacing growl.

She laughed. “And of course, you have your demon wolves.”

Hades marched into the waiting room of the little chapel. He was a Catalan dragon with a head of a lion and the body of a dragon and he nudged Ebony.

She scratched behind his ear. “Yes, I know. You’ll be protect her just like you do me.”

My demon wolves came over to Hades and nuzzled him. He was about the same size as them and fierce. They hadn’t always gotten along, but at least today, they seemed to have buried the hatchet.

Ebony scratched behind Hades’ ear. “You’re being a good boy, buddy, getting along with all the wolves.”

Hades narrowed his eyes and curled his lower lip, but he didn’t take a chunk out of any of my wolves. Thank God for small favors.

The piano player played A Time for Us, and the song drifted into the little room. The witch Hayley was singing, and she had such a beautiful voice.

Ebony bowed slightly and winked. “Time to go, your Majesty.”

My wolves and Hades would follow her. I didn’t have any other bridesmaids and wanted it simple. I wanted Gloria to be a bridesmaid, but she refused to leave Ashton’s side. He was still in a coma and hadn’t awakened ever since the demon Velkan shot him with a demon dart. Not even Hayley could break the evil spell.

It broke my heart that Ashton was still in the death sleep. He’d been with me throughout this journey, and I missed him dearly. The Archangels were coming to the coronation, maybe just maybe they could heal him.

Remi linked her arm through mine, disrupting my thoughts. “Are you all right?”

I blinked away my tears again. “I’m just thinking of Ashton.”

“We’ll find a way to break the spell.”

I nodded wordlessly as she escorted me to the back of the church. I wanted to her to give me away.

She looked at me and whispered, “I never asked you why you picked that song.”

“I know it’s Romeo and Juliet’s theme song and a tragedy, but it’s not for me. To me, it means my chains are broken, along with my uncle’s tyranny.”

She laid her head on my shoulder. “I never thought that, but you’re right. It’s a new for all of us.”

I bit my lip. “I just wished more of my people would believe that.”

“They will, sweetheart. I promise you, they will.”

I gave her a big smile, even though I only half believed her words. The organist played Here Come’s the Bride, and I inhaled a deep quivering breath. This was it. I forced my quaking legs to move.

Mateo waited for me down at the aisle dressed in a tuxedo that fitted his magnificent muscles, making him look dashing. Loved and pride glistened in his dark eyes, turning my body flush. I could hardly wait to feel his hands and kisses all over me again.

His curly hair was pulled back into a man bun, highlighting his strong cheekbones and that debonair smile. Gunnar, the king of the Dark Demons, stood at his side. He was handsome with his long white hair and crystal blue eyes. He and Hades had a special bond. Hades was actually a magical tattoo on his chest and would come to life when he called him.

But I wasn’t focused on him. I was focused on the tall, dark wolf shifter next to him. Love and pride reflected in his dark eyes, and soon he would be mine.

My female wolves, Bella and Luna, stood next to Ebony, and Hades, Remus and Nico stood next to Gunnar.

In the middle of the altar was the Archangel Michael. He had insisted on marrying us, and Mateo and I readily agreed. His white wings were spread out wide, and his long black hair spread out over his shoulders. He looked like a menacing godfather in his black and white tuxedo. His sword, Excalibur, was tucked at his side.

Definitely not someone you would want to cross.

The chapel was filled with what I considered royalty. Anton Lange, the Headmaster of Legacy Academy and Costin Tarus, the Headmaster of Red Rose Academy, were both vampires and sat in the front row. My friend Quint Dimir, another vampire, sat with Anton and Costin. He had risked his life to help me regain my crown. Something I would never forget.

Queen Gwendoline of the Starlight Kingdom. She was a Fae and had been one of my closest allies. The Archangel Raphael and the Reaper Stefan Gabor sat on either side of the Queen. The reapers, Rusty and his mate Julie, sat next to Stefan. They had helped us in the battle against my uncle and now my friends.

Besides my friends, the royal guard, and the nobility crowded the last pews. I wanted it to be more representative of all wolves, the nobility and the lower classes, not just the elite, but Remi thought it would be a mistake. She said if I won over the elite, the masses would follow. I wasn’t so sure, since the rich and haughty had never impressed me when I was in foster care and living in the trailer park. But in the end, I conceded to her. What did I know about being a queen?

As we drew closer, Remi’s eyes were drawn to Stefan Gabor.

I leaned closer to her. “Stefan looks quite handsome tonight.”

“Shhh.” Her face turned bright red, but as usual, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Remi and I stood in front of the Archangel Michael and my knees wouldn’t stop knocking.

“Who gives the woman away?” Despite his power, his voice was soft.

Remi puffed up her chest. “I do.”

Michael gestured with hand. “Stand over here, my child.”

Remi kissed me on the cheek and took a seat next to Quint. I’m sure she would have rather been sitting next to Stefan, but there was no room.

Michael smiled, washing away the usual tension in his handsome face. “We’re here to join Mateo Ruiz and Salem Willis in matrimony.” His smile faded and scanned the congregation. “If anyone objects to this marriage, speak now.” But the tone and glint in his eyes for anyone who dared would be foolish.

He squared his shoulders and lifted up a gold book he held in his hands. “Good.” The pages flipped magically and then stopped.

“Mateo Ruiz, do you take Salem Willis to be your lawful wife and mate, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poor, in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?”

Mateo clasped my hand and kissed my knuckle. “Always. I pledged my heart to her forever.”

I trembled at his words and I was mesmerized by his words, by his voice, and by the look of possession in his eyes.

“Salem Willis,” Michael said. “Do you take Mateo Ruiz, to be your lawful husband and mate, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live?”

I took Mateo’s hand and placed it over my chest. I wanted him to feel the love swelling inside me. “With all of my heart. I pledged to take him as husband, mate, and my king.” My voice shook with emotion.

Michael smiled. “Then, by the power bestowed on me from above, let this bond never be broken. I pronounce them as husband and wife.”

Mateo and I turned around to clapping of the front rows. My demon wolves howled and Hades let out a mighty roar.

There were halfhearted claps in the back and I pretended not to notice. Ebony was right. Being queen wouldn’t be easy, but with Mateo at my side, I would rule the best as I could.

Michael walked over to a jeweled crown that rested on a velvet podium. It wasn’t as gaudy as my uncle’s. His crown had been at least five inches tall and loaded with jewels. Mine was more of a simple diadem with a red ruby in the center, the same color of the eyes as my demon wolves.

He lifted up the crown and carried it in between his palms. “I’ve waited for this day from a far. Salem will unite the Moon Kingdom and bring divisions together. This is the hour of a new era.” He looked down at me. “Salem, please step forward.”

Mateo squeezed my hand as I pulled away from him.

Michael held the crow high. “Please, kneel.”

I bowed my head. My heart was beating so hard I thought it would burst from my chest.

“Salem, by the authority given on me by the First King…”

The congregation gasped, and a soft murmurer broke out.

Ignoring them, Michael continued, “Salem Ruiz…”

I smiled at now being Mrs. Salem Ruiz.

“Do you swear to protect your people, to lead them justly, and to bring peace to your kingdom?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“This crown holds you to your promise and comes with great responsibility. Do you accept these responsibilities of being a queen?”

“I do.”

He gently placed the diadem on my head. “Then I declare you Queen of the Moon Kingdom.”

People clapped and cheered. The wolves howled again and Hades led out a loud roar that practically shook the chapel. I slowly stood and Mateo drew me into his arms and kissed me hard.

Michael raised his arms. “I now proclaim them as your queen and king regent.”

More cheers and claps warmed my heart.

Mateo slowly released me. “Are you ready for this?”

I cupped his rugged cheek. “As long as you are at my side.”

Mateo took my hand and led me down to the aisle. Remi was the first to congratulate us.

She hugged me. “You’re like a fairytale. I can’t imagine what I could give you as a wedding gift.”

I thought a minute. “There is something you can do?”

She blinked. “There is?”

“It’s my understanding that my uncle desecrated Moon Academy. I want to restore it to its former glory. I give this honor to you.”

She gasped and put her hand on her chest. “Me? Why me?”

I looked into her deep green eyes. “Because you were here when my parents ruled. You know what the academy was like before it was corrupted. This is my greatest desire.”

The reception was a whirlwind, and I couldn’t remember how long I danced and greeted everyone.

Mateo held my hand as we retreated to our bedroom. “May I ask you something?”

I twirled my fingers in his long hair. “Anything.”

He brushed his lips over mine. “Why did you ask your aunt to restore Moon Academy?”

“Because I know I’ll never be able to go to an academy now that I’m queen. I have always wanted to go to one. I always thought it would be Legacy, but I’m queen. We can rebuild Moon Academy and make it something we can be proud of.”

He slowly unzipped my dress and brought it down off my shoulders. “You make me proud and all I want to do is worship your body, my queen.”

I stepped out of my dress and stood half naked in front of him, blushing as he flicked his gaze over me. My nipples budded, eagerly waiting for his touch and his lips on me. He pulled me to him and crushed me against his chest. “You’re mine.”

“And you belong to me, my king.” I stripped off his jacket.

He scooped me into his arms and carried me over to the bed. He ripped my lace panties off. His hands and lips were all over me, his beard scraping my sensitive flesh in the most delicious, hot way.

“Take the rest of your clothes off, my king.”

“How can I deny you?”

He stripped out of his tuxedo, and I heard the material ripping. His magnificent cock was free, and he joined me on the bed. Together, we explored each other’s body once again. Mateo’s tongue traced delicate patterns over every inch of me, caressing my breasts, my navel, and I shivered helplessly beneath its seductive power.

I ran the tips of over his broad shoulders, marveling at his rippling muscles beneath my palms.

“I can’t wait much longer,” he whispered.

I smiled wickedly up at him. “Then don’t.”

He spread my thighs and plunged his cock deep inside me. Waves of pleasures exploded inside me with each thrust. I rocked my hips, digging my nails into his buttocks, wanting to take him deeper and deeper.

Raging torments surged through me as my orgasm crested into a river of pleasure. I screamed out his name.

He continued plunging until he finally arched his back and spilled his seed. He collapsed on top of me, panting, still pulsing his hips. “I love hearing you call out my name.”

I stroked the back of his hair. “Then make me do it again and again.”

He kissed my neck. “I will, my queen.”

Mateo kept his promise, making me cry out his name until I was hoarse. We both fell into an exhausted sleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

Meet the Cast of Characters

 

Excerpt

 

The Fairy Midlands

 

Sting Crowwing, tall and thin in his fairy form, exited the Unseelie portal and led out his ebony stallion, Carrion. Sting was counting down the hours as the Change grew closer. He had one chance to build his own future, and he was determined to make that happen. But first things first, he needed Amera. As the runes faded the door disappeared into the trunk of the massive, rotted oak, closing the way to Omnion and the Court.

Sting slipped the heavy black reins over the large head of his war horse. The reins brushed the cat skulls and dog bones woven into Carrion’s mane. Sting pulled a silver clasp from his pants pocket, gathered his long black hair, and fixed it at the nape of his neck. Carrion stood still as Sting slipped his leather boot into the stirrup and mounted. He adjusted his over-long black wings on either side of the saddle. The fairy checked his weight in the stirrups, then gathered the reins and commanded the stallion forward into the night.

Carrion picked his way through the tangled roots and moved slowly through the Unseelie-marked land. Sting breathed a sigh of relief. The rules and expectations—the Court’s and his father’s—shackled him to a future he didn’t want. Outside Omnion, it was just him and his own desires.

He stopped the horse at the edge of the forest and studied the long grass undulating in the breeze, the feathered seed tips of which just brushed Carrion’s belly. The greens and tans looked like smoke under the night sky. Sting cast an invisibility glamour and, as they crossed the meadow, the massive horse and his rider appeared as nothing more than shadow.

Slowly, they approached the rolling hills of Seelie land. Honeysuckle and roses sweetened the wind. The trees appeared fuller, sharp branches softened by foliage. Sting listened to the cricket and frog songs, the harsh wildness of his home replaced by the touch of Seelie creativity and mirth. Even the moon appeared gentled, suspended like a white boat riding the dark currents of night.

 

When they arrived at The Hill Sting halted Carrion, and they waited in front of the massive rose-covered mound that housed the portal to the Seelie Realm.

Sting’s father had laughed at him when he’d found out about the girl, but instead of discipline his father didn’t seem to care that Sting kept slipping outside the Court to visit her, even though it was forbidden. His father had just smiled, showing his sharpened teeth, and warned the boy,

 

“Become what you are.”

But what did his father know? Old and wing-clipped, he lived according to all the rules and disciplines of the Unseelies. His father was an Enforcer, Vollstrecker of House Orba Alis, the Dark Queen’s punisher. He delighted in pain. There were plenty of Unseelies who loved his father’s lash, but none lasted. His father used them and tossed them aside. The thought sprinted across Sting’s heart and chilled his blood: maybe his father didn’t love anything, even their queen. Wasn’t he, even now, tacitly helping Sting by ignoring visits like this?

Sting studied the fully open blossoms on the hill and noticed that, like the grassland, Night, deity of the Unseelies, had her effect on Seelie land. In daylight, these roses reminded him of Amera’s lips and tongue, but under the moon they appeared the color of bones.

He smiled and let his thoughts wander, loving the sweet agony of waiting. The thought of Amera’s lips pressed against his, the smell of her hair, made his aching body thrum with magical possibility. Carrion tugged on the reins, seeking to lower his head and graze for insects. Sting let them fall slack. But then a buzz, like a trickle of lightning, got his heart pumping, indicating Amera’s approach.

He felt a coldness still clinging to him from the Dark Forest, and he shook his shoulder blades and wings to shrug the chill away. His chest feathers ruffled then smoothed down. His stallion, sensing Amera’s mare, tossed his head, the bones in his mane sounding like Brownie percussion. Carrion’s ears pricked forward, and he whickered softly.  

With a shimmer, the gem-encrusted golden door appeared then solidified in the hillside. Seelie runes glowed blue, one of the sacred colors of the Seelie Court as it signified life and purity. The door swung open.

A palomino mare entered the meadow, prancing and moving until she finally stood head-to-head with Carrion. The horses blew softly at each other; Carrion stood stock still while the mare, Pear Blossom, tossed her head and shifted on her feet, dancing with impatience. But Sting’s eyes fixed on Amera, who walked out and closed the Seelie door. She glanced shyly at him and smiled. Her long golden hair glowed white under the moon and her dark skin appeared washed out, looking almost as bloodless as his own. Odd, he thought, then grinned at her, eager to touch her. She gracefully swung onto the mare’s bare back.

They both looked at the door to make sure no one had followed her out. It thinned, shedding solidity until it billowed like a ghostly curtain and vanished, the runes fading like fireflies in the dawn.

The horses started moving, knowing the way. As Sting looked at Amera, her shoulders sagged and her head angled downward. Her hair, which normally curled over her shoulders, thinned and drooped, and her youthful face sagged and wrinkled like a rotten apple. Her long, slim fingers curled claw-like, knuckles knobby and protruding. Startled, he reached for her.

She glanced at him and smiled faintly. The crone image flickered and disappeared. Slipping out of his reach, she urged Pear Blossom forward. The mare broke into an easy canter, and Sting and Carrion followed.

Once they left the meadow and entered the unclaimed land Sting and Amera began changing the landscape, moving toward their bower and far away from prying eyes. The final point of passage was a golden gate locked with mixed magic. He sang the lock open with a deep note laced with darkness, and her laughter, light and golden, pushed the barricade out of their way. They dismounted, leaving the horses outside, and entered the bower together.

As the gate swung closed soft candles flickered and caught, ringing the small room. Thrumming with anticipation he watched her, waiting for her transformation. Her forest- green riding tunic swirled into a sky-blue dress of spider webs and dew drops that sparkled in the soft light. His breath caught as he studied her face—high, sharp cheekbones, summer-sky eyes, and skin the color of a black deer’s hide.

He knew she had bespelled him but, in the radiance of her glamour, he didn’t mind. She was so unlike any of the dark females in the Unseelie Court that leaving her made his heart all the more shadowed. How he relished the sting of separation.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

Amera reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek, but where light usually beamed in her smile sadness gathered across her face. She had dark shadows under her eyes and her aura appeared dull and flat. She embraced him, pressing her cheek against his chest feathers. He frowned, bewildered by the sadness that didn’t belong to her. He bent his head and breathed in the scent of her hair. He felt her tears spilling against his feathers, eliciting a nip of pleasure. He pushed it away.

“What’s troubling you?” he said.

Amera looked up, blinking wet lashes. “We’re in trouble.”

“What? Do your parents know?”

She shook her head. “No, not that.” She studied his face and frowned. “Do yours?”

Sting raised an eyebrow. “No.” The lie spilled off his lips.

Her eyes darted away.

“So, tell me already,” he prodded. Patience felt strange to him. He needed answers. Sweat gathered between his wings as her brow creased. He knew she was trying to find the words, was struggling.  

“It’s better if I show you.”

She stepped away from him and circled her hand in front of her dress. Sparks glimmered and spun in the air, spiraling and brightening to reveal an object wrapped in green blankets. It hung suspended in front of her, and she reached out; taking it in her arms, the light faded. Sting stepped closer and looked as she carefully peeled the blanket away like a leaf of cabbage.

“What is it?” he asked.

“A mistake. You have to fix it. I-I can’t.” She tilted the bundle so that he could see the golden face of a sleeping baby.

A little bit of fluffy black hair stood upright. Sting frowned at the straight, ink hair with the tanned skin. It didn’t look right. The Seelie hair curled tightly. Some said from their laughter catching in the strands. While the Unseelie hair hung sleek, letting fear and love slip away from their minds. Amera waved her palm over the baby’s face and its eyes opened, revealing one sky blue one like hers and one toxic green like his own. He stepped back and hissed in surprise and disgust. Amera bespelled the child back to sleep, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Sting knew without asking that the baby was theirs. As impossible as it felt, somehow their need for each other contained just the right elements to make life.

“When did that show up?” he asked.

“Last night, I guess. I woke up with it next to me in bed this morning.”

A chill ran up his spine. The mixing of light and dark magic was forbidden to manifest life. Mixed magic had no place in Fairy; it belonged to neither the Seelie nor Unseelie Court. Whether plants or animals, they always caused trouble and heartache. But a child! There would be consequences, punishment for them both. And Amera! Did the Seelie have Enforcers? They must. Sting couldn’t bear the thought of someone’s lash nipping and slicing Amera’s silken skin. He looked at her tear-streaked face and knew he had to do something. This abomination had to disappear. Or, better yet, die.  

“Give it to me,” he said. As he took it, he could feel the weight dragging on his magic. He looked at Amera, who smiled and stood straighter. Her aura brightened and the shadows under her eyes faded.  

He placed the bundle on the ground and ran his hands over his feathers. He felt the magic blur his body, sharpening his nose and chin into a beak, feet into claws. His arms merged with his wings. His claws took hold of the baby and lifted it skyward. Amera glamoured the bundle, lightening the weight so he could fly with ease, and she camouflaged it to reflect the surroundings so that it was near invisible.

Sting flew toward the edge of Fairy. When he returned, Amera would owe him for this favor. He was going to enjoy making her pay.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/iKwEFgS7eH0

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Excerpt:

After only three weeks of dating, Jolene and Colton had fallen into a routine: dinner (both) and drinks (him), binge-watching various flavors of CSI at his downtown Boston condo (him), and a few hours of surreptitiously delving into Colton's memories (her). Jolene's practice run as a spy in the field was going well.

The late August night was cool enough for Colton to crack open the sliding glass door to the balcony to let the night air clear his lingering cigarette smoke. Jolene kicked off the stiletto heels and inwardly sighed. After some complex maneuvering, she managed to tuck her aching toes under her too-bright skirt.

The next part of the evening promised to be worth the discomfort of a thong up her ass crack to avoid panty lines.

Without asking Jolene what she would like, Colton switched on the obscenely large TV and pulled up Hulu, lounging like a czar on his pristine white couch, which was a stupid color for anyone but particularly ludicrous for a smoker who drank too much and worked with dangerous people.

In another life, he would have been regal with golden hair, long limbs, straight nose, and a boyish, charming smile. But this wasn’t another life.

As a midlevel lackey in the Red Flames criminal organization, he was not proper boyfriend material, even if he made enough cash to buy a downtown place on a high floor and have it professionally, if foolishly, decorated all in white.

Jolene wiggled her toes into the plush cushion and ignored the stale-smoke smell mixed with Colton’s spicy cologne. Any moment, Colton would slip into a CSI coma, and she would slip into his memories.

“This looks like a good one,” she said. What she always said, because why mess with what worked?

“Yeah,” Colton agreed, as he always did. He lit a cigarette and “politely” blew the smoke toward the balcony doors, tapping the ash into an antique crystal ashtray on the glass coffee table already holding three butts.

The first week, she'd been terrified he'd somehow feel her inside his mind, though she'd never had that happen before or heard of anyone sensing the process. Not that Jolene still had contacts in the memory-surgeon community, small as it was, but that sort of revelation would put memory surgery back in the 24/7 news cycle, like when they’d first been legitimized. Semi-legitimized.

This first assignment was nothing more than an exploration of what she could do on a real mission. Since Colton was a gangster and she had no close backup, fear nibbled, but confidence had outpaced her worry.

Jolene rested her head on his shoulder, slipped her arm through his, and slid her hand down his button-down shirt to rest on his hand. As soon as skin-to-skin contact was made, she mentally reached out to him. Colton's mind rose up inside her own. To boost her concentration, Jolene closed her eyes.

Within the blackness, bubbles sharpened. The different shapes and colors bobbed and slid around one another. In her mind's eye, she moved into the middle, staring at them as if in an aquarium. The memories never touched her, but she could reach out and sink into any of them. If she did, she experienced the memory in its entirety, exactly as Colton had lived through the event at the time. If she wanted, she could remove memories, but that was a level of violation she resisted unless absolutely necessary. Besides, if she took something, she had to keep it, and she didn't want to keep anything of Colton's.

Jolene already had an entire dossier in her head of all things Colton. She’d cataloged his fears: multilegged insects like millipedes terrified him, as did his brother when his eyes went icy, and his jaw shifted to the right.

Shame occupied its own section: bed-wetting for a month when he was twelve. The time he'd slapped his girlfriend after she'd gotten pregnant and decided she didn't want it. Red Flames passing him over for job after job.

Still, inside, people were infinite, and she had more to learn. She avoided the pink bubbles, as they were filled with his worst memories, and her reactions to living them were difficult to hide. Reds gave her the best intel so far. Angers, suspicions, smackdowns.

Truthfully, she should have wrapped up the mission a week ago since she wasn’t finding anything new. But playing spy and the unfettered access to Colton's recollections had been too enlightening to quit quite yet. Her skills had grown, and she didn’t feel guilty about messing in his brain because of his criminal history. She was three weeks into her two- to three-week mission, so she needed to skip out soon.

Jolene decided to make a game to test her memory-reading skills. She had recently learned how to peek and not immediately experience a memory. It allowed her to see more since she didn’t need any emotional recovery time, and she processed what she encountered more quickly.

Tonight, she wanted to test how many memories she could scan during commercial breaks, since Colton was too cheap to pay for the commercial-free version of Hulu. She’d hop through his memories like jumping into puddles.

Commercial.

A mahogany memory: his brother, Walther, stood over him, watching over his shoulder as Colton did algebra homework. Whenever Colton squirmed in his chair, Walther flicked his ear. It didn’t hurt much, but Colton’s face burned every time, and his muscles shook with the stress of not moving to avoid Walther’s attention. “Knock it off,” he grumbled, earning another sting. Colton tensed—

A buttercup-colored memory: “Mama, Mama, Mama,” Colton said, running around his mama as she walked in the park. If he ran fast enough, he would fly, his head already lightening. He stumbled and giggled, his mama laughing. Something shiny glinted in the sun. What was it? His mama scooped him into her arms before he grabbed it. She smelled of flowers and oranges.

Excerpt: 

On New Year's Day, the children went with Michael to brunch in Venice and walked on the boardwalk. For dinner, they ate at their favorite Chinese restaurant in West Hollywood. Arriving home, they noticed someone sitting on the porch. Michael quickly got out of the car and went over to the man. It was Joe, a young client of Michael’s.

Two years earlier, Michael brought Joe into the agency as a client; they had a very respectful relationship. Joe asked Michael if he had time to talk. Normally, Michael would have asked Joe if it could wait till the next day, but Michael saw the urgency in his tone. He told Joe to come in and to give him some time to put the children to bed.

Michael came back into the living room with a martini for himself and his guest. He finally broke down and had liquor in his house. Joe sat down and told Michael to listen before he commented. He told Michael that there was an action to take over the office, and his LA staff were aware of it, as well as the New York staff. Gail had also secured a replacement for Michael to run the LA office. The clients were not informed. She was waiting for the proper time after Michael left the office. Gail had secured all the bank statements and hired a lawyer.

Michael was shocked. “Who told you, Joe? Do you know a timetable for when she intends to do this?”

Joe said he was dating someone at the union who told him, and he was not aware of a time she was going to act on this. Joe seemed very pale; Michael became concerned about Joe’s health, asking him how his T-cell count was. Joe did not respond to much of anything.

“There is nothing you can do,” said Michael.

“Just be healthy. There are some experimental drugs. Stay away from AZT. That is AIDS by prescription.”

Joe finished his drink and got up to leave. Joe hugged Michael, and while he was holding on to Michael, he whispered in his ear, “I'm scared. What is going to happen?”

Michael replied, “You are going to live and have fun. Just be gay.” They both laughed. Before Joe left, he stopped in the doorway, turning to Michael.

“What’s wrong Joe?” asked Michael.

“I did not call. I wanted to.”

“Why didn’t you?” said Michael, staring at the young man, who was in a world of anxiety and apprehension.

“I was afraid they tapped your phone,” said Joe, and he left.

 

Excerpt:

A HAUNTING AT MARIANWOOD

Sister Miriam Patrice slid back from the kneeler. The quiet of the church soothed her as it wrapped its velvet cloak of serenity around her. She sat, hands folded, once in prayer but now to stop the trembling. Glancing at the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows casting a rainbow on the empty pews, she drew in deep slow breaths. She looked at the watch pinned to her tunic. Time to get back to work. She rose to leave the church, her place of refuge, a place free from the distractions of the running the community and the new retirement home the sisters established to help make ends meet.

The members of the Sisters of the Blessed Mother of God found their numbers dwindling. New recruits, as Sister Miriam Patrice called them mimicking her cousin Dash Hammond’s military jargon, were very rare. The teaching congregation once had more than a hundred sisters. Vocations, callings to either the religious or the educational side of the community, had fallen to less than a handful each year.

As she walked down the aisle to the back of the church, she heard it again. Tap, tap, tap. She stopped to listen, making sure she wasn’t mistaken. That sound sent shivers down her spine. Squaring her shoulders she walked to the doors next to the church exit. One led up to the choir loft, the other down to the cellar. In days past she had gone up the stairs; today she would go down.

Pulling the doorknob, Miriam Patrice met the resistance of a locked door. She pulled out her keys and unlocked it. She struggled with the door, suggesting to her that no one had gone to the cellar in a while.

The stone steps were worn but sturdy. She moved cautiously into the darkness, one hand on the wall to steady her nervous knees, the other searching for the handrail. Her hope was that the security guard forgot to close the door one day and some critter, not two legged, was trapped down here and making the tap, tap, tap sound. Logically she knew this was wrong, but the alternative could be worse.

Decades ago they discovered one of the newer buildings constructed during a period of rapid expansion had been built on an underground spring. It wasn’t long before the building tilted, as did their finances. What a waste of time and money. Fearful that what she would find was a tell-tale pooling or bubbling of water, she moved forward slowly. She said a silent prayer that she would not stumble into a puddle, a precursor of the inevitable unwelcome news.

Her trek seemed unnecessarily slow though reason told Miriam Patrice she should alert one of her sisters where she was just in case she lost her footing. But her reasoning had not been the sharpest of late. She blamed her sleepless nights, not because of an uneasy conscience but an overabundance of concern for her congregation and its uncertain future, both financially and individually.

After spending a half an hour poking into the corners, searching for the origin of the sound, Miriam Patrice gave up. She needed a flashlight if she wanted to do a proper search. Next time she would be prepared. Next time, she told herself, she would be less skittish, more confident that she could deal with whatever sprung up from the tap, tap, tap. After deciding this, she nodded to herself. At least she didn’t hear a drip, drip, drip.

The sound had stopped so she returned to the church. As she locked the door behind her, the tap, tap, tap began again, louder this time. If she permitted herself, she would have said damn.