Author: Cindy Paterson
Series: Senses Series #3
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Date of Publication: May 7th 2013
Cover Artist: Mark Paterson
“Eavesdropping?” Before he could defend, or more than likely not bother, she continued, “Why didn’t you say something? You said you’d tell him.”
He raised both hands in the air as if to ward of any further assault. “I did, Kitten. He refused.” The conversation had been simple—Xamien volunteered to stay and help protect Delara and hunt Tarek in order for her to stay here. Waleron’s answer was no and he hung up on him. Xamien seriously was beginning to not like the guy.
Her eyes narrowed. “Well you’re a Taldeburu, Trace to the Realm and tell the Wraiths.”
“A bit dramatic, don’t you think? Besides, it’s his decision,” Xamien replied. “You’re part of his Talde, not mine. I can offer suggestions, but nothing more. Ultimately, you should listen to him.”
“He doesn’t own me.” Her hair was up in a wide clip with a few tendrils wet and hanging down the back of her black V-neck shirt. Her feet were bare and there were still droplets of water clinging to her skin. Sexy. And off limits while he was here.
Waleron did own her in a way. He was her boss and he held her heart, so yeah, whether she wanted to believe it or not Waleron did own her, at least partially. But it wasn’t enough to stop her from sleeping with whoever she chose or from disappearing on occasion.
Xamien casually leaned up against the wall, ankles crossed, arms matching. “We could be spending our time better than this, Kitten. If you come to Spain, I promise to make you scream at least three times a day.”
She huffed, blowing air from her mouth and her jagged strands billowing away from her face. God, he adored the way her upper lip quivered when she was angry. He wondered if she knew she did that. Probably not. He was an observer of people and often noticed the smallest of motions. Even her baby toes failed to touch the ground when she stood, small and delicate keeping the sensitive skin off the cold ceramic tiles.
Finding her irresistible, he pushed away from the wall and approached her, his stance casual to avoid adding to the tension she already held within her muscles. She backed away until her hips hit the narrow hallway table that held a single stainless steel bowl. The jarring tipped over the bowl and it clanged loudly.
“Xamien. Don’t you dare. Not here.”
“I can’t help myself, Kitten.” Before she escaped, which was viable considering the word run pounded in her head, he grabbed her around the waist and dragged her against him. The feel of her body was delectable and it took everything in him to abstain from taking her right there in the foyer. “Damn woman, I can’t be in the same room as you without wanting to fuck you.”
She was tracking scents in the house, her head shifting in each direction while at the same time pushing at his chest. “Seriously Xamien, this isn’t funny. Let me go.”
“A kiss.” No way was he going to survive longer than one more night without taking her to his bed. Without waiting for her reply, he grabbed the back of her head and met her mouth with flurry, tasting the sweetness and spice as his lips roamed over the luscious warmth. There was no urging required, Delara sunk into him within seconds, the desire flooding them as everything around them was forgotten.
About the Author
I am Xamien’s secret lover. Well, in my head I am and since I’m single this is completely allowed. Some of you may ask, who is Xamien, don’t worry you will meet him soon enough, but no falling in love with him. He is all mine.
Writing books is a fantastic way to have adventures that are impossible to have otherwise. I mean do you really want to fall in love with Waleron? He is so unstable and would never pick up after your dogs or clean the litter box. Not to mention the fact that he is always out killing disgusting grave robbing bug people.
Curling up with a good book and losing yourself to another time and place is the greatest reward. Being able to feel a character’s emotions, their fears, pain and love. Now that is incredible. I relish in the books that stay with me long after they have ended. This is what I strive for in my writing. To give the readers, and myself, an escape into another world, my world.
I have been writing since I was twelve. My parents, sorry mom and dad, would send me to my room for an hour every night to do homework, and instead I wrote stories. Oops, guess that is why I did so bad in math.
I have never stopped writing since then and never will. It’s like an addiction, but a good one. I adore stepping into the shoes of a character and deciding their fate. The characters are why I write. I want to fall in love with them (even the bad ones), so that I care about what happens to them in a story. If I can’t care about the characters then why bother with the story.
I live in Toronto with a menagerie of pets that keep me on my toes.
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