Dark Crescent Sisterhood 1 - Bound By Shadow by Anna Windsor

Author:Anna Windsor [Windsor, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-02-27T01:07:16.486000+00:00

He was clearly in uncharted territory here, and his mind ticked back over Cynda’s ass wound and other minor bumps and bruises he’d seen the triad take in the short time he’d known them. The smal er injuries had become non-issues pretty quickly.

But bul ets?

Riana’s musical voice was lower when she spoke, more sexy, more al uring. Her expression said, Take me downstairs. Now. Out loud, however, she said, “Please take me to one of the chairs. We’ve got to question Herbert before we send him away.”

Creed didn’t know whether to shake Riana or refuse to put her down until morning. He final y had to give in and carry her to the nearest chair, settling her gently between the padded arms. Then he pressed his lips against her ear and whispered, “Next time the shooting starts, I’l be with you.”

Riana gazed up at him, and he knew she wanted him to kiss her. The sadness in her eyes told him she also knew that wasn’t a good idea with this audience, and with the other creating menace every time their passions flared. He tried to get a breath, felt furious and suffocated, but didn’t frown at her. He wouldn’t take out his rage at the other’s interference on her. In fact, he never wanted to frown at her again, for any reason.

I almost lost you tonight, didn’t I, honey?

How did Corey James handle this?

Andy yawned, way too loud as usual. She was sitting up on the couch now, eyeing the ugly naked man on the big oak table. Dani and Maura were standing on the table with the man, one in front, one in back. They had their fearsome swords drawn inches from his back and chest.

Shel , the big purple-haired woman, stood to the side. She had adjusted the bonds on his hands, lifted his arms over his head, and she was finishing tying him to the same ceiling beam that Riana and her triad had used to immobilize Creed.

“So if you earthy-types snatch out the bul ets,” Andy asked in her slow, sarcastic drawl, “who does the stitches?”

Cynda was busy changing clothes in the corner, discarding her black leathers in favor of a long green skirt and loose blouse. “We do,” she said.

“Fire Sibyls are hel on infectious processes. We know how to bring the heat. And Motherhouse Ireland prides itself on fine sewing.”

Creed had a sudden image of a bunch of sword-toting grandmas, flannel nightgowns smoking at the fringes, sitting in a circle swapping curse words and needlework patterns.

“I want to go home,” whined Herbert as his captors left him standing on the table tied to the ceiling beam.

“Shut up,” al the Sibyls said at once.

“You may not want to watch this,” Riana said to Creed.

“I’m watching,” Andy said. “We’re watching. You’re not going to kil him, right? We can’t let you kil him, even if he is a sniveling weasel-fucker.”

“Nah, we won’t kil him.” Cynda picked up her sword and pointed the tip toward Herbert’s shriveled little manhood.

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