BLURB: De’alla Isaacs is a typical businesswoman in Seattle, but away from the day job she lives another life. She is Chosen. Her job—carry and protect a precious jewel. Each Piece of Eight is part of a key, the only thing standing between this world and complete demonic devastation. Dee’s job would be easy except for one problem—Faison Dow, R&B singer, celebrity playboy and all-out dog has appeared on the scene.
If he’s such bad news, why does he make her heart pound, body temperature soar, set her crystal buzzing and send her mind on a one-way trip to Gimme Some? Is it his sultry voice? His pursuit of her as if she’s the only woman for him?
Whatever it is, they’d better hurry and figure it out because the Prince of Hell has arrived.
But why? Devon was any woman’s wet dream. Tall but not overly so, the perfect height for kissing. His skin was a deep, deep tan and his features evident of a mix of cultures. Midnight black hair shot through with hints of chocolate brown. His eyes were dark, exotic, the irises rimmed with dark gold that projected intelligence and wit. The shorts and tank top he’d been wearing on his unfortunate jog had shown off a long, lean body cut with muscle. He was a well spoken geeky type, brilliant actually. Yep, right up her alley. Damn gorgeous. Even his teeth were perfect. So why the aversion to him?
Was it the fact that he’d managed to “run into her” almost every day over the past week? Or that her eyes enjoyed the view but her spirit was less than happy to see him? And she didn’t even want to think about the images that flashed behind her eyes when in his presence. Lust-filled, but not in an inviting or arousing way. It was as if her natural enjoyment of sex was sucked out of her and replaced with dark, depraved thoughts, and all against her will. Like being mind raped by the most perverted creature on earth. It was unwelcome and both scared her and pissed her off at the same time.
It hadn’t made sense the day she’d met Devon on the beach, nor the last four or five times she’d seen him around town since then. And, damn it, it didn’t make sense now.
“Can I buy you a drink or something, Dee?”
He smiled and her stomach lurched again.
“No.” Gasp. “Thanks.” Gag. She felt too sick to drink anything. Even water probably wouldn’t stay down at this rate.
“I was hoping to see you again. I didn’t know you would be here tonight. We could have ridden together. I really enjoyed our coffee time together the other day.”
“Yeah,” she said, trying not to squirm in her seat. “Minus the face plant, eh?” She tried to laugh. Really tried. But the sound stuck in her throat as it closed up and refused to let any air through.
“You know, you’re really something special, Dee. So ambitious, honest. Real. No pretention, yet you’re classy and beautiful. I’ve been searching for a woman like you for too many years to count.”
Hmm. How could words sound so true yet ring so hollow? Not to mention the strange chill emanating from her crystal. The thing was so thoroughly icy it was as if her own irritation reached through the stone, passed through the silk pouch it rested in and slithered up the silver around her neck to sink into her skin. Nothing like this had ever happened before.
Well, hell. She was having all kinds of new experiences lately. First the blazing heat of the stone in Faison’s presence and now the chill of the same crystal while in Devon’s.
And She was screaming again, or trying to. Dee sensed the frustration of her guide’s sudden inability to communicate across their well-established bond. Knowing the spirit struggled to warn her of something, Dee instinctively slipped her hand beneath her wrap and fingered the chain of her necklace hidden beneath her clothes. She
discretely stripped the pendant of its protective little pouch. The second the stone hit her hand the grave-like cold dissipated replaced by peaceful warmth. The stone filled her with strength and clarity of mind. And she knew it was time to go.
Suddenly a voice burst forth as if it had forcibly freed itself from a miring pit of smothering clay or quicksand. Along with the clarity of mind induced by the stone came the clear bell of She’s voice in Dee’s mind.
*RUN!*
And Dee knew better than to hesitate. This very same voice with this very same insistence had saved her and her sisters’ respective asses too many times to count when they were growing up. But was it Asmo? Was it really him? Damn it, she couldn’t fight the demon now. One, there were too many people around. And two, she hadn’t yet joined with her mate, still wasn’t sure if it was Faison or someone else. Crap, she had to get away and right now. She had to protect the crystal, protect her Piece of Eight.
“Uh, excuse me, Devon. I’ve got to be going.”
“Aren’t you staying for the after-party?”
And just how did he know about that? Faison had told her that the after party was for special guests only and that the public didn’t even know where it was going to be held. Interesting.
“No. No party. Sorry.” She eased from her seat and pulled her soft pashmina wrap even closer around her shoulders, gripping the crystal underneath like a lifeline.
“Ouch!” A rock in her shoe caused her to stumble but she quickly righted herself. A glance up and her temper simmered. Her shawl had slipped and Devon eyed her cleavage. Correction, eyed her crystal! The man watched the flex of her fingers, the lift of each knuckle as Dee grasped the bright shard of lemon yellow quartz, hiding it from view. His gaze practically bored through her skin at the very spot where her hand rested against her chest with the stone tucked safely against her palm.
But Devon hadn’t moved to try to take the stone from her. Maybe he wasn’t old Asmo? Besides, he appeared to be too nice, too…geeky. Certainly not demon-like enough to be Asmodeus, right?
Well Dee didn’t have time to figure it out just now. She was losing it big-time and insisting that Dee go find Faison. Nope. No way. Her emotions already spanned the globe—she was physically ill, her crystal and She were both off kilter. The very last thing she needed was to add Faison and his lust-inducing, manly goodness to the mix. So she would just head up the beach and go home instead. A nice bath, a glass of sake. Her gut lurched when she glanced at Devon again. Gack! Perhaps a pitcher of Pepto?
“Take care, Devon. Nice to see you,” she lied. “Bye.” And hustled as quickly as the ridiculous high heeled sandals she wore would allow. Who the hell wore high heels to a beachside concert anyway? It was times like this she actually hated being an elemental since certain lapses into flighty fickleness were their nature. Sigh.
At not quite four awkward steps an iron band clamped around her wrist. What the hell?
Not an iron band, but Devon’s hand. And his body language said he wasn’t inclined to release her anytime soon.
“Devon?”
“Come on, Dee. It’s early yet.”
Dee tugged. He didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure I’d see you again. When can we get together? Can I get your number?”
“Sorry, Devon. You’re nice and all but I’m just not interested.” Well, not in you anyway. But all-out giddy over a snarky-assed, too-full-of-himself pretend playboy R&B singer from Japan? Yeppers.
Well, hell.
“Excuse me, but take your hand off me.” Dee’s words were deliberately quiet. She was pissed that the idiot dared touch her but she didn’t want to make a ruckus. After all, this was Faison’s gang of groupies. The concert was over but the venue was packed to capacity and the media were everywhere. The last thing she wanted was to end up on the front page of the local gossip rag.
Dee pulled on her wrist again but Devon still held on. If anything he stepped closer, never taking his eyes from hers. Strange. His eyes were brown and gold the other day. Now they looked…black? Flat. Dead. Ewww.
“I said. Let. Go.”
This time Dee felt the power of the stone simmer and flare just as her own innate ability moved to protect her. If this asshole wasn’t careful, given the fact that Puget Sound was spittin’ distance away, he’d find himself dealing with a full-blown thunderstorm compliments of Hurricane De’alla.
“Why don’t we go walk on the beach, Dee?”
And while his tone was nice enough, the steely cold flatness of his eyes belied the illusion.
“If you don’t take your hand off me I’m gonna have to kick you’re a—”
“Excuse me, but I believe the lady wishes to leave.”
Faison? Double damn it.
Snippet Saturday authors:
Jody Wallace
Mari Carr
Lauren Dane
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
HelenKay Dimon
Eliza Gayle
