Well, hello there, handsome.
The Reaper’s Sacrifice, Deathmark 2 is out in the world today! You know what that means? A giveaway, of course!
Enter to win a $20 Amazon gift card and a signed,
print copy of The Reaper’s Kiss, Deathmark 1. Click here.
And then go here to get your copy (ebook or paperback) of The Reaper’s Sacrifice!
Here’s a little something-something from The Reaper’s Sacrifice to get you in the mood:
“I liked that dress on you. Sorry it’s ruined,” Brent said as I tossed the hippie frock aside and slipped into a pair of jeans.
The numbing elation of sex had faded. My body hurt like a bus had slammed it.
“As dresses go, I liked it, too.” I reached for the only clean shirt I had left: a black tank top. Just as I was about to pull it on, Brent moved with fast-as-light speed and tossed an arm around my waist. He laid his fingers over the scar from Gabriel’s attack.
I melted into his closeness, wishing he’d never let me leave the cage of his arms. “Gabriel attacked me. You would’ve been proud though. I still ran a half a mile before I realized what had happened.”
Brent’s attention was locked on the scar. It matched the scar on my rib cage where Nicholas Baird had attacked me two years ago. I was beginning to look like a pied animal.
Was it white with pink spots or pink with white spots? One of these days, I would own this evolving look. For now, I felt a little self-conscious.
“I should’ve been here to protect you from them,” he said.
“Doesn’t matter.” I put my hands to his bare chest, the muscle beneath unyielding to my touch. “Errol said something strange last night about Marin. It scares me.”
His hand traveled down the scar and cupped my breast as I breathed with relief. A gentle squeeze reignited feelings in me that would take a lifetime to satisfy. Everything was so fresh that even his hand on my skin forced my knees to buckle. Thank Hades his clutch on my waist was so tenacious.
His lips covered mine before I could tell Brent that Errol, and now I, too, were worried that Marin was actually a Scrivener. Brent didn’t care about what he didn’t know, as his tongue passed over the bridge of my teeth and then between them just as ardently it had as moments ago. This time, I put my arms around his neck to maintain stability.
“We should get downstairs,” I said between kisses.
He backed me into the vanity table and twirled me around to face it. Bent forward, I balanced on my hands as I watched Brent in the mirror, just as naked as before, the muscles of his abdomen flexed. His erection pressed against my jeans.
“I’m not done with you yet, darlin’.”