Killian walked into my new voodoo shop late one night with an urgent request – he needed me to heal his friend. Only I know absolutely nothing about voodoo, or healing. I’m just trying to start a new life with what little family I have left after my dream of becoming a star on Broadway went up in flames.
Literally.
At first glance, he was an average looking guy with a European flair. Nothing outside the ordinary in the city of New Orleans. But despite his nerdy-boy attire, Killian was most definitely all man. And as his black eyes made their way up my body to my face, the look reflected within them wasn’t the least bit tame.
More like predatory…
I expected her to cast me down the moment I walked through her door. But I had no choice. One of my own was dying from a witch’s curse, and only another witch could undo the spell. However, Lizzy was not what I’d expected to find. Stunned by her beauty and overwhelmed by her scent, I burned with thirst until the blood raced through my veins and my body tightened with need.
But with one taste, she calmed the beast within me as the truth flooded my wicked soul. The witch is MINE. She is the pulse that feeds my immortal life and the bearer of my death. Taking Lizzy as my mate will bring about the end of my coven’s uneasy truce with the witches.
Leaving her will mean my demise…
My name is Killian Rice, and I am a vampire. Come Into The Dark with this new series by L.E. Wilson, and enter her Deathless Night. A world of immortals with only one weakness: The witches who can destroy us...
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EXCERPT:
A man stood just inside the door, looking around my store with an amused expression on his face. At first glance, he wasn’t anything special to look at. About five foot eleven if the ruler on the door frame was correct, of average build, with pale skin, short, sandy brown hair and a classically handsome face that hadn’t seen a razor in a day or so. As I ran my eyes over his suspiciously dry clothes, I noticed he had what I would consider a bit of a European look to him. His dark jeans were fitted to his lean, muscular legs, and he wore a hip-length black sweater with a big collar open over a nondescript, dark green shirt. All he needed was a pair of glasses with thick frames to complete the look he seemed to be going for.
However, despite his nerdy-boy attire, the man standing in my shop was most definitely not a boy. And the look in his black eyes, once they made their way back up to my face, was not in the least bit nerdy.
More like predatory.
My lungs began to ache from lack of air, and I sucked in a quick breath through my nose.
Oh, my God. What was that?
The best cologne I’d ever smelled invaded my sinuses, overriding even the spiciness of the incense, and for a brief moment I closed my eyes as desire wound its way through my body, the sudden ache in my womb sharp and heavy.
A discreet cough brought me crashing back to where I was. Heat crept up my chest to fan out across my neck and face as I remembered myself, and I was self-consciously aware I must look as red as the curtain behind me.
The man smiled a secret smile, as though he knew exactly what was going on inside my body. Could see the carnal images running through my head.
Setting the bag on the counter, I pulled myself together and forced a professional tone to my voice. I think I may have even succeeded once I was finally able to get past the first few words. “I’m sorry, but the shop is closed for the night. However, we open tomorrow at ten.” I smiled as nonchalantly as I could manage. “I hope you’ll be able make it back then.”
Really, I secretly hoped he was just one of the many tourists and would be heading back out of town tomorrow. There was something about this guy that was making me distinctly uncomfortable. Potential customer or not.
Then he spoke for the first time, the musical cadence of his voice sliding over me like the soft notes of some cool Jazz. “Are you the owner of this…” He glanced around. “Shop? Did you call it?”
There was a slight lilt to his speech. Irish, maybe? His “are” sounded more like “a-our”. “Did you” more like “didja.” Yet he spoke so low, his deep voice so soothing, almost like a purr—or maybe a growl—that it was hard to catch if you weren’t paying attention.
“Yes. Is there something I can help you with?” Maybe he wasn’t a normal customer. Maybe he was here to try to sell me something, and that’s why I was getting such a weird vibe. That, and the fact that he’d somehow gotten in through a locked door.
Reading my mind again, he smiled and gestured toward the door. “Forgive me for coming in after hours. The door was unlocked.”
I flicked my eyes over to the door and then back to him. Like hell it was.
He cocked his head to the side. “Are you a new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”
“New Orleans is a crowded city.”
“That it is, but mostly full of tourists. Us locals usually stick together.”
Did they? “I’m the new owner. My name is Lizzy Smith. How can I help you?” I repeated.
“Smith?” He appeared put off by my name.
I dropped all pretenses of being pleasant and frowned instead. “Yes. Smith. It was the best I could do on short notice.” I didn’t know what made that bit of truth come out. “Is there something I can help you with?” I repeated.
The lines of concern on his forehead disappeared as he strolled a few steps further inside the store, and closer to me. “Actually, I was looking for someone, but that’s not the correct name. Is there a better one you can think of, by chance?”
He was smirking at me. The bastard.
As casually as I could, I stepped back until I was standing at the end of the counter, nearer the pepper spray I always kept within easy reach, because I couldn’t afford the gun I wanted yet. “And you are?”
Gone.
I’d blinked, and he was suddenly standing directly in front of me, one hand wrapped around my upper arm. He’d moved so fast, it had taken my brain a few seconds to catch up with what my eyes had just seen. Or not seen, as it were. My heart thumped hard, once, and then it began to race, making me lightheaded. He stood so close, his make-me-want-to-rip-off-my-panties scent teasing my nose, it took another moment for me to be able to form a coherent thought. Unlike a normal cologne, whatever he was wearing didn’t get stronger with his near proximity, but mellowed to a mere tease of the scent. It drew me in to him without my realizing it, and I had the sudden urge to bury my face in his chest.
Gradually, I realized my hands were pressed flat against said chest. But whether to push him away or draw him closer, I couldn’t have said.
“Lizzy.”
Drawn by the soothing allure of his voice, I lifted my chin until my eyes met his. Like his scent, his average good looks became devastating up close and personal. Beneath my hands, his chest was warm. So very, very warm. My head swam and my heart continued its erratic beat as I drowned in the dark pools of his eyes.
My entire body ached to be closer to him.
The material of my jeans was all at once rough and irritating against my thighs as my blood raced to the surface, sensitizing my skin. My soft shirt prickly as hell. I had the sudden urge to offer myself to him. Anything he needed. Anything he wanted. If he would just get me out of these irritating clothes.
Black eyes bored into mine, and I’d swear they could see every dirty stain on my soul.
“I need your help.”
I struggled against the urge to obey his every wish. “But you just said I had the wrong name.” Though I felt my lips and tongue form the words, they came to my own ears as though through a vast void.
“The name doesn’t matter. You’re the person I’m looking for. You have to be. Because I don’t have any other options.”
Warning bells clanged loudly in my head, but I couldn’t piece anything together enough so that it made sense. “What’s your name?” I asked him through a fog.
He touched my cheek with the fingertips of his free hand, his dark eyes roaming across my features as they followed the trail they made. “My name is Killian. And you are not what I expected.”
Author Bio:
L.E. Wilson writes Paranormal Romance starring intense alpha males and the women who are fearless enough to tame them -- for the most part anyway. ;) In her novels you'll find smoking hot scenes, a touch of suspense, some humor, a bit of gore, and multifaceted characters, all working together to combine her lifelong obsession with the paranormal and her love of romance.
Her writing career came about the usual way: on a dare from her loving husband. Little did she know just one casual suggestion would open a box of worms (or words as the case may be) that would forever change her life.
Lattes and music are a necessary part of her writing process, and sometimes you'll find her typing away at her favorite Starbucks. She walks two miles to get there, to make up for all of those coffees.
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