CHAINS releases today. 🙂 Don’t forget to check out the contest link…the contest runs (most likely) through the end of May and the winner’s name will be drawn and posted here.
The woman could write. Her books were a strange blend of horror, urban fantasy and suspense.
But he was already on edge, already tense. Losing himself in one of her nightmare worlds just then may be enough of push to have his own nightmares flaring to live and he could live without that.
There was no sound, no change that he could see, but in the span of a heartbeat, Dalton’s instincts flared to life. Somebody was close—too close. Had somebody gotten in? His skin prickled, his senses went on red alert. Automatically, his hand moved to his side only to fall into a useless, impotent fist at his side as he remembered that he’d laid his weapon down months ago.
Then, as he heard a faint, disgruntled mutter coming from the kitchen, he blew out a breath. Following the sleepy, grouchy voice, he came to a halt in the doorway and leaned against the door jamb, eying the view before him and grinning.
Sexy? Hell. Sexy didn’t even begin to define Sherra Salinger. She wore a black pair of panties that rode low on her hips, stretching across her plump, round ass in a way that his mouth watering, his hands itching. Inches of bare skin were visible above the waistband of the panties, revealed by a strappy, cotton tank top done in bright, vivid purple. She straightened and nudged the refrigerator door with her hip before turning. That razor straight black hair fell in her face, her hands full with enough sandwich supplies to feed an entire family.
“Midnight snack?” he asked, his voice a little lower than normal.
She didn’t jump.
Didn’t yelp in surprise.
Her gaze cut to his face and as the bottom of his stomach fell out, he realized he would have been a lot happier if she’d jumped or yelped when he startled her. Because the look in her eyes didn’t come from being startled. It came from being terrified. She slowly lowered the stuff in her hands to the counter and stood there, staring at him with unreadable eyes while all the blood slowly drained out of her face and left her even paler than normal.
From the corner of her eye, he saw her hand shifting, moving across the countertop. Her hand closed around the wooden handle of a big butcher knife but he didn’t look away from her face.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his heart banging against his ribs as she stood there, clutching a knife in one small hand and staring at him like he was a modern day version of the big bad wolf. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her breasts rose and fell as she took a deep breath. He could see her knuckles go white as she tightened her grip on the knife and then, as quick as that, it was done. She let go of the knife and that blank, expressionless mask replaced by one of grouchy exhaustion. “What do you want?”
The moment of fear might have passed for her, but his throat was still tight. The puzzle of Sherra Salinger was one that he knew he’d have to solve. Had to—the same way he had to breathe, the same way he had to eat—and the same way he to do whatever he could not to see that lifeless, expressionless look in her eyes even as he felt the fear tearing at her insides.