Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Book five in the Dancin’ With the Devil series.
Astra Q Phelps gave her boyfriend a magic hickey. Usually not a world-changing issue. But in Astra’s case, her boyfriend is king of the Royal Devils. And Royals have always thought that only males could mark their mates. So how did she do it? Even Astra doesn’t know. That’s the first of her problems.
Now somebody’s trying to kill the naturally curious Astra, which is always a problem.
Thirdly, there’s Slayer. He’s shown up on Astra’s turf and wants her to hire him. Given their undeniable sexual chemistry, that’s probably not going to go over well with her boyfriend. Not to mention that he’s got some baggage that’s gonna come back to bite Astra big time.
Add in the nearly constant sexual need caused by her Settling and you have a whole lot of stuff for Astra Q Phelps to handle. But, as you probably know by now, she’s definitely up to the challenge.
Warning bells were pounding around inside my head, turning my brain to mush.
I climbed out of the Knight and pulled my power forward, checking the knives in my boots to make sure I could get to them easily.
I briefly considered calling for help, but knew I’d never live it down if I asked for help against one little old lady. Besides, just because the old woman lived within a few clicks of my other client’s home, that didn’t mean she was a furry, razor claw wielding shape shifter with a taste for my delectable flesh.
Of course it didn’t mean she wasn’t either.
In my world you could never trust an old woman with wet, brown eyes. Chances were it wasn’t an old lady at all, but something evil, with big teeth and lethal claws in disguise.
Or worse, it could just be an old lady who drank tea and tried to iron your clothes when you weren’t looking.
Can you tell I didn’t grow up in a nurturing environment?
I walked around the small house before knocking on the door, throwing out my sensing power to “taste” the area. Nothing obvious jumped out at me.
Finally, I knocked on the metallic front door with its ridiculous, hanging spray of pink and purple flowers, my gaze sweeping the area around me with suspicion.
After a moment the door creaked inward, showing me the wrinkled, seemingly harmless countenance of Mx. Diamon, her rheumy gaze filled with welcome. “Hello, dear. Thank you for coming.”
I frowned but kept my big mouth shut. It wasn’t as if I was there for a social call.
“Come in, come in. I have your room ready.”
And with those few words my world came crashing down around me. Reality smacked me between my beady green eyes. My heart stopped beating and my lungs clenched.
I was gonna have to stay there, in that gingerbread house, with that scary little old lady. My battered brain immediately pictured a huge furnace filled with scorched bones and a platter of cookies cooling on the top.
My fingers twitched with the need to pull my power forward. Then I remembered I was supposed to be there to protect the woman.
When had I made it all about me? Weird.
I forced myself to step inside the house and immediately recoiled at the abundance of pinks, purples, and swirly type woven things on table surfaces.
The walls were decorated with kittens and puppies and small, adorable dragons.
The air smelled of lilacs and cinnamon.
My eyes started to burn and I was afraid they’d bleed.
“I’ve made cookies, Mx. Phelps. Follow me.” She marched down a hallway toward the back of the house, her well-padded hips swaying with happy purpose. Glancing back at me with a wispy smile, she added, “I hope you like sugar.”
Shriveling up under saccharine overload, I stumbled after her down the hall, already feeling as if I’d gone twelve rounds with Satan himself.
In fact, I realized with a start, I’d rather deal with Satan.
Him I understood.
BUY the book!