Bond With Me by Anne Marsh

Author:Anne Marsh [Marsh, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Paranormal, Fiction
ISBN: 9781480137226
Google: -qN9NAEACAAJ
Amazon: B009G9547K
Goodreads: 8084361
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing
Published: 2010-08-24T04:00:00+00:00

The artificial grotto caught Mischka’s attention first.

Damned Goblins had some sexy imaginations. They’d transformed the club into an outdoor wonderland. Waiting for Brends here was no hardship.

Mischka didn’t even notice the sounds until she stepped under the grotto’s overhanging lip and ducked inside. Cool air smacked her in the face and the riotous noise of the gardens was abruptly cut off. At first, she thought she’d interrupted a pair indulging in a little sex. The familiar smell of semen mixed with other, earthier fluids. When she started to back out of the cavern, however, she came to a frozen stop.

This wasn’t a lover’s tryst. This was a nightmare.

A dark, winged shape crouched over the body of the woman on the ground. There was so much blood. It was worse than the scene behind G2’s. There, the cold night air had arrested the spray, frozen it into a gruesome necklace. Here, in the lavish, semiheated interior of the club, the blood spouted freely, staining the woman’s expensive black cocktail dress and forming a garish smear against her pale flesh.

As Mischka watched, the rogue pulled the knife free from the woman with a sickening crunch of splitting bone, and before she could stop herself or complete her hasty retreat, she was pausing. She’d seen cuts like those before.

The male’s gaze snapped up. Deliberately, he straightened and looked her up and down. “Nice dress,” he said in a low, raspy voice, running his cold gaze over her elaborate corset-and-lace number.

She recognized those eyes. That voice. Eilor.

She reached slowly for the handgun she’d popped into a thigh holster, hoping the paranormal facing her couldn’t tell that her palms were slick with sweat. Deliberately, she raised the muzzle of the ASP until it pointed straight at the paranormal’s heart. Kill shot. Had to be. Even for his kind.

“Freeze,” she said more calmly than she felt.

“Why?” He took another step toward her. Despite being as tall and broad-shouldered as a male suit model, he smelled rank. Like something unwashed and damp that had festered for a very long time in the dark.

“Because,” she said, silently blessing the fact that the ASP had no safety to prevent her from plugging the bastard as soon as she wanted, “if you don’t, I’m going to shoot your ass. Right now. Right here in this garden.”

“You will not, bébé.”

Every instinct she had screeched that he was the paranormal straight from her own worst nightmares. “Last chance,” she warned. “Hands up.” Maybe he’d be foolish enough to refuse. Maybe she’d get lucky here, because she wanted to pump him full of lead.

She needed to do it.

His gaze flicked up from her thighs and he shook his head. “Don’t. I’ve been waiting for you.”

His flat tone bothered her more than anything else. Didn’t he care that she’d stumbled onto his act of murder? He was either bona fide crazy or knew something she didn’t. Either possibility left her feeling antsy, as if she’d overlooked something. She hated feeling incompetent. She was in charge—of her life and her business—and she liked it that way.

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