Coldness seeped into his skin down to his blood, penetrating bone. He needed her touch and the warmth of her body.

He gripped her hands, determined not to let her go. Heat cascaded through his flesh, sparking his arousal. He needed to taste her. To have her open for him so he could bury himself deep inside.

Desire whipped at his mind, urging his body to action. He strained to focus on her questions to help her understand.

"You've suffered from violent outbursts or depression since you hit p.u.b.erty," he said, not knowing exactly how severe things must have been for her, separated from the collective. "You've never been sick and if you've had an injury like a broken bone, you healed faster than others, than humans. You feel like you're waiting for something, and once you find it your life will make sense."

She stared at him wide-eyed. He could sense her fear draining, but some other emotion was building. Her chest no longer rose and fell. She was holding her breath. She was in shock.

"Breathe." He cupped her face. "I know this is sudden and overwhelming, but I'll help you through it." He wanted far more than to help her. He wanted to feel her hot body writhing with the need to have his. Above all, he wanted to protect her from every awful thing in the world.

Serenity clutched the car seat, fingers biting into the b.u.t.tery leather as Cyrus's words resonated within. She had experienced episodes of depression for as long as she could remember, but what child who had their parents ripped out of their lives wouldn't? She must've had strep throat or the flu at least once. She combed her memories, but couldn't recall a single instance when she'd been sick. Yet what he said couldn't be right.

"This isn't possible," she said. "Energy weapons, instant healing, Kindred aliens-"

"We're not human, but we're not aliens. You and I are halves of the same soul, meant for each other."

The idea of predestination or that she had no control over her future didn't ring true.

"Are you saying I need you for my life to make sense?" Every instinct screamed for her to slide her hands over his legs, chest-the birthmark-to ignite sparklers of heat in her flesh, but she tightened her fingers into fists instead. "I determine what's important in my life, and what's real."

"How can you determine what's important, when you don't know who you are or where you come from?"

"You don't know me."

"Let's suspend the idea that you need me, and let's entertain the idea that I need you."

He grazed her cheek and lips with his thumb. She stared into the dark pools of his dynamic eyes. Animalistic hunger reflected back.

A moan rumbled in his chest, sounding distinctly similar to a growl.

"Imagine living in a world with constant overcast skies," he said. "Picture an arid land, where nothing green can flourish, barren of natural majesty such as flowers or rain. Then one day, you see the sun and the ocean. You feel warmth and the sprinkle of salt.w.a.ter on your tongue. Imagine smelling a gardenia for the first time or walking on dew-covered moss with your bare feet. How could you go back to an empty world of gray? I couldn't, even if I wanted." He sighed. "I don't know how else to explain what I feel right now, touching you, being near you."

Heat simmered in her midsection, rushing up to her scalp and down to her nether lips. He seized her face in his hands and claimed possession of her mouth. His tongue swept in, delving deeply, intent on conquering. He clutched her tighter. The ferocious urgency of his need overpowered all of her restraint, and she surrendered to the embrace of his arms.

A burning desperation to satiate his hunger dominated her mind. She wanted to please him, to take as much of his energy as she could offer in return. Their greedy tongues entangled. Her back arched, his fingers commanding her body to mold to his.

A swell of desire broke upon her soul, quenching a thirst she never knew she had, effacing all doubt. She didn't care about yesterday. She didn't know about tomorrow. Only this sweet, reckless moment mattered, and she never wanted it to end.

She explored his firm chest and back, delighting in his sculpted muscles and smooth skin. Cradled in silky warmth, she wanted more of him. Buds of pleasure flourished in her core, winding through her body, deepening between her thighs.

One strong hand curled around her hip. Cyrus slid her body down underneath him, resting her head on the seat. Spreading her legs with his hips, he pressed his body to hers, rubbing the bulge in his pants against her pelvis. Swooning from the weight of his body bearing down on her, she threaded her fingers in his thick hair. He subjugated her with his hot mouth, his rapacious tongue demanding more.

His savage hands-intense yet in complete control-tugged at her clothes and swept through her hair. She ran her fingers along his spine and b.u.t.tocks, bringing him closer. His thick erection pressed against her moist s.e.x, their clothing an irritating barrier.

Waves of his energy washed over and through her, merging with hers. She opened herself to him, ready to share all she had to give. His body hummed like a tuning fork made of chiseled flesh.

The vibrations of her energy attuned to the flow of his. Visceral threads stretched from her core, connecting them together through their current of energy, anchoring her to him.

Ecstasy and lightness ballooned inside her, until her body was a buoy floating on pure energy. Pleasure blossomed in layers, deepening, rising...so close to a peak.

"We're home," Ca.s.sian said, somewhere in the distance.

She never felt the car stop and had no idea how long they'd been at a standstill. Her eyes fluttered open. Yearning left her breathless. Cyrus sat up, hovering over her.

The young man peered at them through a crack in the part.i.tion. He must have been quite intrigued by what he saw. His entire body was turned toward them, his nose pressed to the gla.s.s.

"Ca.s.sian, get out," Cyrus said in a low, husky voice.

The boy hopped out.

Cyrus caressed her face, drawing closer until he kissed her, a quick brush of his mouth on her lips and cheeks. She wrapped her arms around his waist, running her hands up his back. His fingers slid her shirt up, baring her stomach.

Her car door opened and bright sunlight intruded.

She tilted her head back. Glaring light hit her, bringing her back to her senses. She jerked away from Cyrus, scooting upright while adjusting her clothes.

A little talk of soul mates and she had completely lost her head.

An attractive man with steely gray eyes scrutinized them. "Cyrus, the team is on the way here. We have to euthanize another with blood frenzy. The situation is dire. It can't wait."

"All right, Abbadon. I'll be ready by the time they arrive."

Chest heaving, Cyrus stared at her, his eyes wild with raw hunger like he wanted to gobble her up. Something told her she'd enjoy every nibble and lick.

Trust is the only light that will guide them home.

Heir of Starlight 2013 Nicole Kimberling Sea of Stars, Book 2 It's been seven years since Karl Alton sublet his human body and let his soul be transferred to an orangutan. Now that the contract is up, Karl is ready to live a less hairy existence. Except his body has been stolen.

Devastated, Karl turns to his boss, Lord Adam Wexley, for legal advice. But instead of using his n.o.ble connections, Adam realizes they need to fight magic with better magic. And there's only one man for the job: Adam's ex-lover, Grand Magician Zachary Drake.

Once, Drake sacrificed his prized independence to save Adam's soul. Now under the thumb of the West Court, he's been forced to create a terrible weapon and bound to a vow of silence. Yet when Adam comes to him for help, no amount of bitterness over his lot will let him refuse.

Soon they discover that Karl's missing body is only one thread connected to a plot to destroy the kingdom. And now the desperate race is on to find who-or what-has a finger on the trigger.

Warning: Contains vengeful bankers, n.o.ble lawyers, waxed divers who don't wear wetsuits, and one trip to the vice princ.i.p.al's office.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Heir of Starlight: Drake reached for his cigarettes and busied himself with lighting one while he waited for the door to close behind his departing guests.

He took a long drag and regarded Adam evenly through his exhaled plume of smoke.

With an air of great deliberation, Adam stood. "Let's go inside."

"No." Drake resisted out of principle. He didn't like being ordered around, especially not in his own house.

"I'm going to talk to you now, and if you don't want every single spying bird, bat and insect to hear what I'm going to say, then you should go inside. I'm offering this merely as a courtesy to you. Though we can speak out here if you like and give everyone in the Courts of Four Directions something to gossip about."

Drake thought that if he had been holding some sort of weapon, like a brick or a hammer or even a large rock, he would have hurled it at Adam. So he mangled his cigarette against the ashtray, drained the rest of the c.o.c.ktail in his gla.s.s and threw that at Adam instead.

Adam sidestepped, and the unlucky stemware shattered harmlessly against the wall. Drake stalked inside the apartment, pulled closed the drapes and whirled on Adam.

"Well, then how is it that you intend to privately humiliate me this evening?"

Adam moved forward and with no warning whatsoever pulled Drake into his arms. Drake found his cheek crushed against the same broad chest that he'd nestled into every night for two years. Horribly, he found he could not muster the motivation to struggle even a little. Because in his heart he had wanted this. Adam's embrace was the only sure source of comfort that Drake could imagine today. After the execution, Tom's premonition. Even the anxiety of Adam himself returning to Drake's life could be made better by being held in these arms.

Drake had expected to face a mechanical tirade-a litany of all his basic failures as a human.

But this was much worse. After two deep breaths, he pulled himself together and shrugged free. "Well, I can see why you wouldn't want to do that on the patio. I doubt your current boyfriend would view that with his famous benevolence."

"I'm not hiding from my boyfriend," Adam said. "And Lord Hamilton and I are no longer together, if that's who you mean."

"You looked very together at the White Ball last week." Drake tried not to sound jealous, but failed.

"We still appear together for social functions-for the sake of the Foundation. But that's not what I want to talk about, don't change the subject."

"Right, you want to talk about Karl. All right, yes, I'll help him. You knew I would. Why cheapen me by offering me money?"

"Why cheapen yourself by asking for compensation?" Adam countered. "You've never been reluctant to help a commoner before."

"Maybe I've grown contrary and bitter. Maybe I've turned into the same loathsome creature that all grand magicians become."

Adam drew close, laying his big hands on Drake's shoulders. "What has happened to you? What are they doing to you in the West Court?"

Drake tried to blurt it out, tried with all his force to push the words out, but found himself choking. The oath he'd spoken constricted his throat. He shook. His vision tunneled and he slumped forward. Strange geometric patterns jumped across his field of vision. Were these the result of asphyxiation or magic?

He neither knew nor cared. At least if he was to die this way, he'd seen Adam one last time. Then he felt himself being caught and carried, laid down on his bed. Adam sat next to him, smoothing a hand across his chest.

"It's all right. Don't try to speak," Adam said. "I shouldn't have asked."

Drake relaxed, drew in a shuddering breath.

Adam went on lightly rubbing his chest. "Try not to think about it. These vows of silent obeisance can be deadly if you resist them too hard. That's what's happening, isn't it? You're trying to speak through your oath?"

"Yes," Drake whispered, grateful to get a single word out.

Drake lay silent for a few moments, merely breathing and enjoying the sensation of being touched.

Adam said, "Why have you never asked the Foundation to litigate your case? I've looked over your contract. Your soul was signed to the West Court under circ.u.mstances that are now considered to be extortionate. But you've never asked us to file suit against Langdon. I would do it in a heartbeat, if you asked me."

"It would be a waste of time and resources. I'm far too deeply involved now for them to ever let me go."

Adam looked away. "I'm sorry. I know it's my fault."

"No it isn't. I chose to sign that paper of my own free will."

"They cheated you out of your freedom," Adam stated.

"I'm not sorry for that. I just wish..."

"Wish what?"

Wish that you hadn't left me.

Aloud he said, "I wish I had been as smart as I thought I was and found a way out of it before..." He felt his throat tighten as he approached speaking of the heinous weapon he had created.

"Don't speak-really. I don't want to have to take you to the hospital."

Drake gulped in one deep breath, then another. Adam switched from rubbing Drake's chest to smoothing his hair. It had been five years since Adam had last been in Drake's bedroom. Then, with his slick, expensive haircut and dressed in designer clubwear, Adam had fit in with the decor. Now he looked too casual and humane to belong anywhere near Drake's bed.

No doubt Adam's haircut was still expensive-he'd become a lawyer, not some kind of renunciate ascetic-but it was no longer severely held in place by product. Rather, it was allowed to settle into its natural blond waves. His tan appeared to be completely natural. His jeans were off the rack. His T-shirt advertised the Inhabited Animal Defense League. Drake wondered, if he lifted that wholesome garment over Adam's head, would the other man's nipples still be pierced with gold rings.

Probably not.

Most likely, Adam was missing the overt s.e.xual implications of the actions he was performing right this second. Not that he was naive. But in Drake's experience, Adam always underestimated his own importance and impact on others.

Ashes of the Day.

P.G. Forte.

Only blood can break your heart.

Children of Night, Book 4.

New Year's Eve, 1999. The world is braced for Y2K, but that's not the only ticking time bomb in Conrad's life. Damian wouldn't be the first vampire to find a way to die, but Conrad is determined he will not be one of them.

Present day. Damian struggles to trust that fate could possibly be kind enough to give him a love as perfect as Conrad's. Conrad balances on the keen edge of his own fear that one more slip of his formidable control could drive his lover away-permanently.

Julie learns the hard way it's not just interspecies relationships that seldom work out. Even between vampires, love is not a smooth course.

Meanwhile, intrigue and conflict within the nest continue to grow, fueled in no small part by Georgia's slipping hold on a deadly secret. Marc works to consolidate his position as leader of the ferals-and discovers that being a walking anomaly has certain advantages. Including some that are totally unexpected.

Warning: Contains more love triangles, more power struggles, more tears and teeth gnashing, and even more graphic scenes of manlove between moody, domestically inclined vampires than in previous editions. Definitely not recommended for anyone suffering from ALSSD (Auld Lang Syne Sensitivity Disorder) or with aversions to ballrooms, evening clothes, sarcasm, or close-quarter stiletto combat.

end.