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Unable to stop himself, Blane got up from his chair, nearly
tipping it over, and took a step toward her. Aimee inhaled
sharply, feeling her body thrum with expectation. She was
thirsty for his touch, and for the pressure of his hot, heavy
body against hers. Through half-closed lids, she watched as he
captured a piece of ice from his own glass and reached for
her.
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A beam of bright light swept
over her. Although she knew the light was coming from the
lighthouse, her mind had drawn inward, shifting her focus
off her driving. As a result, she was startled when the
brilliant white shaft suddenly pierced the car’s interior,
and her hands jerked on the wheel. The car swerved to the
right. A darkness loomed in front of her as the vehicle
threatened to plunge into the culvert, and she automatically
tried to swerve left. She overcompensated. Worse, she hit a
patch of ice, and the SUV slid sideways for a few feet.
She
fought the wheel to keep the vehicle stable and on the road.
Pumping the brakes, she thought she'd managed to regain
control until she hit a rock or small sand hill and went
sailing into the air. The car twisted, landing hard on its
passenger side, and turned over in a three-quarter roll
before sliding to a squealing halt. It finally came to rest
on the driver's side, tires spinning uselessly. The last
thing she remembered before blacking out was the sound of
the windshield wipers squeaking as they continued to clear
the rain that was trying to ice over the front glass.
And
then...darkness.
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Standing in the middle of the
circle of spray jets, he closed his eyes to seek her through
their bond. He found the other half of his heart sitting,
impatient, nervous, and bored. Then he turned on the
spigots.
At first, Lyric thought the
roof was leaking. Glancing up, she couldn’t see where the
water was coming from, but she could feel the soft drops on
her face. She swiped her cheeks, but there was no moisture.
“Something wrong, Cochise?”
She glanced over at her
fellow prosecutor sitting across from her. “No. Just
thinking.” Jerico nodded and leaned back in his chair, but
by this time she could feel the definite touch of water
droplets on her arms and legs.
When Ta’Loov was sure their
connection was at its strongest, he worked up a lather in
his hands and began to massage the soap through his fur,
running his nails over his skin. Lightly scoring his flesh
as he touched himself.
Lyric jolted upright in her
chair from the sensation.
As she realized what was
going on, she tried to close her eyes and appear calm to
those around her. Yet, her mind both rebelled and was
titillated by the provocative feelings crawling over her
skin.
My love, what are you
doing
to me?
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Chuckling, Joab stretched,
hearing the muscles in his back pop. His throat still felt
parched from his trek over the arid, dusty ground. “May I
have something to drink?” he asked.
“Oh, goodness!” Jumping up
from her chair, she headed inside, toward the kitchen. “I
forgot all about my treat!”
“Your treat?”
“Yeah. Hold on. Watch your
eyes!”
She flipped on the light,
shielding her sight until it readjusted. Going over to the
refrigerator, she pulled open the freezer compartment and
pulled out a half-gallon of vanilla ice cream, which she
plopped onto the counter. “I bought all the fixings for us
to make banana splits. Have you ever had a banana split?”
He paused next to the island bar. “I’ve had a banana
before. Is a banana split like taking one and dividing it?”
She gave a bark of laughter. “I figured skinwalkers
wouldn’t be savvy about them. Just you wait. I passed an ice
cream parlor on my way to work this morning. They had a
picture of one on their front window. I got so hungry for
one, it was all I could think about all day. So I stopped by
the grocery store on the way home and got everything we
need.” |
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She answered by slipping an
arm around his waist and lifting her face for his kiss. He
eagerly pulled her against him to oblige. It was a long, yet
soft kiss. Not meant for anything other than a sweet moment.
When they finally parted, he dialed the correct sequence of
numbers on the tumbler locks and unchained their bikes.
It
was a brisk thirty-minute ride to the outskirts of the town.
Like most of the other towns, the streets were lined with
abandoned buildings that remained empty—unoccupied and
unused for their original purpose. Many of them were no
longer worth the time or effort it would take to rebuild or
repair. At least not in the immediate or near future. Once
the Meheedrians bombarded the planet and wiped out nearly
two-thirds of the population, it appeared Earth was doomed
to extinction.
Until
the Tigurians appeared and prevented that from happening.
After
they’d managed to defeat the Meheedrians, the Tigurians had
remained, keeping a squadron of ships circling the planet in
the event their enemy tried to return.
That
had been four years ago. Back when he’d been a staff
sergeant in the Air Force. Back when he’d been able to first
see the Tigurians as they’d emerged from their shuttles to
meet with the remaining diplomatic representatives of Earth.
Back when their world discovered the feline-looking
humanoids could shapeshift to make themselves appear almost
as human as the people on Earth.
He’ll
never forget the first time he’d seen Silla. She was an
adjunct to one of their diplomats. She with her bright
orange and brown striped fur, her big blue eyes, and long
fluffy tail. When she morphed into human form, the tail
vanished, but her striped markings remained on her skin. And
those big blue eyes…
He’d felt an instant
attraction for the feline-looking officer. More astounding
was her attraction to him. They were like opposite poles of
a magnet, unable and unwilling to resist each other.
All
it took was a chance meeting, a few hours of conversation,
and the rest was history.
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She gazed at the object in her hand. "A
Seaman's Heart," she whispered. Turning it over once more,
she remarked, "I can't see where it begins."
"And you won't," he shook his head. "If the
craft has been learned well, you will notice nothing but its
beauty." The Immortal paused, then hesitantly asked, "Do you
like it?"
"I think it's beautiful," she admitted
truthfully. "But…why is it warm?"
"Warm?"
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Jeffrie chuckled again before
growing silent in order to luxuriate in his gentle touch.
Flynn buried his fingers deeper, careful not to hurt her.
She was aware of him extending his claws in order to massage
her scalp, and she relaxed even further, almost melting
against him.
He stopped to take a drink
from his mug before announcing, “I believe it’s dry enough
now.”
“Mmm…”
“Jeffrie?”
She shifted slightly, moving
over until she rested against his leg. “Mmm?”
“Teach me to braid your hair.”
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