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Evading Death
A demon wants his body, but Kane's not ready to give it up. Enya, the bewitching woman who is suddenly everywhere he goes, says she can help. Kane doesn't know if he can trust her, and doesn't want to keep his hands off her. But no matter how beautiful she is, he's not dying to have sex! ( sexy paranormal romance novella)
He is the one.
The raspy, windblown voice of Death snaked into her head, identifying the next assignment. Enya Morgan bit her lip, looking from the raven who spoke to her toward the man crossing through the yellow beam of light in the parking lot. It was a shame to see a man like that die. Even from a distance, she knew he would tower over her small stature, and he was broad enough to easily toss her aside if she got in his way. His walk, his open chest and sure steps, proclaimed him to be a man who had life by the reins.
Slipping closer to the entrance of the Hogs Head pub she cast his features to memory as the lights on the outside of the building revealed them. His ash brown hair slicked back off his face, showing a hairline just beginning to recede. Faint lines traced across his brow, and his goatee was trimmed close. Her universal knowledge gave his age as thirty-seven. He was so young to have run out of time.
Noise spilled out the door when he went inside. She waited a few moments, long enough for him to find a seat, before she followed. The small room held the typical crowd, half a dozen or so gathered around the pool table, three sitting at stools along the bar, the rest laughing and slamming down their beer bottles on tables.
The air stunk of too many bodies and booze, with undertones of stale cigarette smoke reeking off clothing. The jukebox blasted out a borderline country song, guitars and drums pounding a rock beat for the traditional lyrics encouraging the listeners to drink more and love less.
Enya smiled and nodded at familiar faces as she searched the room. She wiggled her finger at the waitress to signal her usual drink on her way to the back booth where Miguel sat. "Hey."
"Hi," he answered, sliding the bowl of peanuts in their shells across the scarred wood table. His long black hair hung loose tonight, combining with his high cheekbones to make him look like the native warrior he'd once been. He needed a good woman, she thought, but hadn't shown interest in anyone in all the years they'd worked together. "You following a new mark?"
"Yeah. Him, at the bar. Kane Sullivan," she added, sharing information the raven had given her.
"I've seen him around. He's a good guy."
She sighed as their subject laughed at something the bartender said. "They usually are. The good always die young, right?"
He is the one.
The raspy, windblown voice of Death snaked into her head, identifying the next assignment. Enya Morgan bit her lip, looking from the raven who spoke to her toward the man crossing through the yellow beam of light in the parking lot. It was a shame to see a man like that die. Even from a distance, she knew he would tower over her small stature, and he was broad enough to easily toss her aside if she got in his way. His walk, his open chest and sure steps, proclaimed him to be a man who had life by the reins.
Slipping closer to the entrance of the Hogs Head pub she cast his features to memory as the lights on the outside of the building revealed them. His ash brown hair slicked back off his face, showing a hairline just beginning to recede. Faint lines traced across his brow, and his goatee was trimmed close. Her universal knowledge gave his age as thirty-seven. He was so young to have run out of time.
Noise spilled out the door when he went inside. She waited a few moments, long enough for him to find a seat, before she followed. The small room held the typical crowd, half a dozen or so gathered around the pool table, three sitting at stools along the bar, the rest laughing and slamming down their beer bottles on tables.
The air stunk of too many bodies and booze, with undertones of stale cigarette smoke reeking off clothing. The jukebox blasted out a borderline country song, guitars and drums pounding a rock beat for the traditional lyrics encouraging the listeners to drink more and love less.
Enya smiled and nodded at familiar faces as she searched the room. She wiggled her finger at the waitress to signal her usual drink on her way to the back booth where Miguel sat. "Hey."
"Hi," he answered, sliding the bowl of peanuts in their shells across the scarred wood table. His long black hair hung loose tonight, combining with his high cheekbones to make him look like the native warrior he'd once been. He needed a good woman, she thought, but hadn't shown interest in anyone in all the years they'd worked together. "You following a new mark?"
"Yeah. Him, at the bar. Kane Sullivan," she added, sharing information the raven had given her.
"I've seen him around. He's a good guy."
She sighed as their subject laughed at something the bartender said. "They usually are. The good always die young, right?"
Nook
First published March 5, 2011
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