The warm dampness of her breath made me shiver at the mix of the familiar and the unknown, with a soft exhalation she shifted her head and her lips found my collarbone, teasingly shy of my old scar. Tendrils pulsed in time with my heart, building on the ones before to an unseen height.

Al was looking at me in disbelief. “Not your lover?” “No.” “But he is Rachel candy,” Al said, his confusion too honest to be faked.

I staggered backward-her one hand gripping my shoulder, the other still holding my wrists behind her-and she followed until my back hit the wall.

Shouts of dismay rose as the red flesh splattered against the table. It was only a tomato, but one would think I was pulping a decaying heart by the noise the big, strong FIB officers were making.

I was having coffee with my bodyguard. I didn't expect to be hunting bad guys until later. Leather before sundown is tacky.

Ku’Sox was indeed a demon. In. The. Sun. I needed answers, but I wanted them from Al, not…Cute Socks here.

You have such interesting thoughts. No wonder witches are ephemeral. You drive yourself crazy. You should simply do what you want without the soul-searching. It will be easier in the long run, Rachel Mariana Morgan.