Spicy Unedited Excerpt from:

Reaper's Vow

Copyright © Sarah McCarty 2014
All rights reserved

He was still working on the technique ten minutes later when Miranda came back down the path. He could tell from the length of her stride that she was not a happy woman. He kept whittling, pretending he didn’t notice her approach. She kept coming, pretending she didn’t know he was sitting there while her anger snapped around him. It ticked him off that she thought she could brush him aside so easily.

“Have you seen Wendy?”

“Good evening to you, too.”

He felt her anger spike before she grabbed hold of it, controlled it, and banked it. She might have even managed to hide her response with anyone else but him. She ran her fingers down her braid before flipping it over her back wirh a long suffering sigh.

“I’m sorry. Have you seen Wendy?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Where is she?”

“She asked me to talk to you about something first.” That wasn’t strictly the truth, but he wasn’t above spinning a lie to bring about a good.

“I don’t need you to speak for my daughter.”

“She doesn’t like Clark.”

“I know.”

“She’s afraid of him.”

“I can protect her.”

He shook his head, jabbed the knife into the post behind him, and straightened. Catching her hand, he held her put while he unbuttoned her sleeve. He felt her energy tense a second before her muscles.

“Don’t.” She snarled, a short feminine, warning, backed by her equally fierce, “Let me go.”

“Did you tell Clark to let you go?” He started rolling her sleeve up.

She jerked on her arm. “Yes.”

He held her arm still and looked in her eyes. “Did he?”

He took the second snarl as a “no.”

“Then what makes you think you can make me?”

Her energy fluctuated wildly. “I can….”

Not before he saw what he wanted to see. He raised the sleeve up over her elbow. Small dark ovals marred the inner curve. Fingerprints. He touched one lightly before looking in her eyes. Panic and anger warred for dominance in her expression. “You don’t heal like a Reaper.”

Her lips pulled back revealing her canines. “I kill like one.”

He caught her other hand as she swiped at his face. She was strong. Very strong. But not stronger than he. Interesting.

He held her gaze. “Do you want me to kill him for you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Clark.” Releasing her, he asked again, “Do you want me to kill the son of a bitch for you?”

The “yes” was so strong in her face, in her energy, he was actually taken aback when she said, “No.”

“Once you bind yourself to that man, by pack law you’re out of options.”

She licked her lips. ‘I have a plan.”

What was she going to do?  Run around the bed until the man wore out? “You can’t stall him forever.”

“Long enough.”

“For what?”

“None of your business.”

“China doll, I’m the best friend you have right now.”

“Are you?”

“And I’m not going to let you let that bastard win.”

She shook her head and her eyes glistened. “You have to.”

That wasn't fair. “Don’t you dare cry.”

She blinked rapidly. “I’m not.”

She was. On the inside. And had been for a long time. Damn

He let her go Satisfaction settled in his gut when she didn’t take a step back like she had with Clark. He took her braid in his hand, ran his fingers down it. It was thick and warm from the sun. Her hair was probably beautiful when it was down, framing her face. He slid the braid up her arm, over her elbow, her shoulder, and down her back, and he kept going, tugging on her braid, pulling her head back.

She gasped. Her fingers pressed against his chest. Her eyes opened wide. Awareness flared between them.

Hell, no wonder he was hard every time he was around her. The woman made love to him just by looking at him.

“You’ve got no business marrying that man or even thinking about it. Not when you look at me like that.”

She turned away. “I don’t have an option.”

He turned her back. “I’m your option.”

Taking a step forward, forcing her back up against the barn wall. He saw the memories flare in her soft brown eyes as her palms pressed against his chest, but she didn’t need to worry. He was nothing like Clark. He didn’t want to take. He wanted to give. Everything she wanted. Everything she needed. Everything he had. .Her energy embraced him. Her lips softened. Beckoned.

 Cupping her wrists in his hand, he slid her palms up. “Put your arms around my neck.”

 She did, her protest token at best. “We’re in plain view, and everyone—”

“Good.” He wanted everyone to see him stake this claim..

He leaned in, and her breath caught. Her lips parted. He smiled. Hell yeah, she wanted him. He slid his knee forward and kicked her feet apart. She sighed, a slight expulsion of breath.

“Yes,” he answered the unasked question in her eyes. “I want this.”

 Another tug on her braid tilted her head back farther; her nails bit into his chest. Desire bit deeper still. His cock throbbed. Invisible lightning flashed around them. Her energy, his energy, all blended together. The world faded until there was only this moment, this woman, this kiss. This damn kiss.

 He leaned forward, or maybe she stood on tiptoe, or, hell, maybe they just met in the middle. Who knew? Who cared? Her mouth was under his, and it was sweet, powerful. Unmistakable.

Mine. The word whispered through his conscience, through his mind, stronger now, blending with their energy, wrapping around it, pulling her toward him. He slid his knuckles down her spine, dragging her head back a little more, arching her into him so her hips rode his thigh and her breasts pressed into his chest.

 He expected her to object, but instead her arms slipped further around his neck, pulling him even closer, as she, too, felt the need to taste and to touch, the drive to be one. As if this kiss wasn’t a beginning but a confirmation.

He hadn’t meant for the kiss to get out of hand. He’d meant for it just to be a taste, a sampling. Just a little something to make her see them. Or, hell, maybe he’d just been fooling himself. There was nothing light or casual about the touch of his lips to hers. Nothing simple in the complexity of her taste. Nothing calm about the response of his senses. Where her fingers stroked his neck, his skin took fire.

She made a sound in her throat that went straight to his cock. He lifted her higher. She rose with him, her calf sliding up the back of his leg. Fuck yes, he wanted her legs around his waist, her body locked to his. She bit at his lips. Grabbing the folds of material, he dragged the skirt out of the way. She moaned and twisted against him, working her pussy against his shaft. Even through the layers of clothes, she burned him.

This is a mistake.

The warning whispered through his mind. His lust drove it back. He didn’t care. Right, wrong, whatever. This is what had to be. This is what was. This is what he wanted, what he’d been searching for, only he hadn’t known what it was. But now that he had it, he wasn’t letting it go.

He pinned her harder into the wall, pressing every inch of her against him. This time she whimpered.

Too hard.

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he groaned into her mouth, relaxing his grip a little, easing back—just a little, just enough so he wasn’t crushing her but not enough to interrupt the pleasure.

“Kiss me again,” she whispered back.

Hell, he hadn’t stopped. He’d breathed the words into her mouth the same way she’d breathed them into his.

“Open for me.”


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