Tucker snorted, then pushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “You witches always amaze me at how little you know. Werewolves do exist. Trust me on this one.”
She accepted his answer with an imperceptible nod, her gut telling her what she’d seen was real, but she still couldn’t ignore the lingering doubt stiffening her spine. He was different, all right. But a werewolf? She closed her eyes, letting the impression she received from him soak into her. The dark energy she’d felt earlier floated beneath the surface. It wasn’t black like Bascom’s darkness, and it was pushed down, layered with the light of a purer energy on top. She just hoped Tucker had more light than dark inside him.
“Have you used your powers here?” If so, how had she missed it?
The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Other than changing into a werewolf, I don’t have magical powers like you. Besides, I could ask you the same thing.”
“You could.” She bit her lower lip, her nerves still frayed. “No. I never use magic in poker. I prefer to use my natural skills. It’s not fair to the humans.”
“I agree.” He reached out to touch the spot he’d touched before, and once again, an overwhelming urge to suck on his finger trembled through her. “For your sake, you should stop biting your lip. It’s a major tell that you’re nervous.” He darted his hungry gaze between her eyes and her mouth. “But it’s one hell of a turn-on, too, so if it’s up to me, I hope you keep doing it.”
“I guess it depends on whether I want to play poker or play with you.” Kiss me, damn it. She closed her eyes, willing her pulse to slow down. Keep your mind on the game.
She sensed that he’d edged closer and she opened her eyes. His face was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “You know what, Mari Thornton?”
“What?” Her breathless question floated in the air between them.
“If a hundred or so people weren’t hanging out around us, I’d throw you on top of the table and fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.”
Her first thought was to act offended. But that would’ve been an act. She inhaled, drawing in his scent, and decided to take a risk. “You know what, Tucker Manning?”
“Yeah?”
“I’d let you.”
He should push her away…but he’d rather have his wicked way with her.
Getting Familiar With Your Demon
© 2012 Jodi Redford
That Old Black Magic, Book 4
After too many years learning death from the inside out as the familiar of a voodoo queen, soul collector Samael Gorasola betrayed his boss, which landed him on demon death row.
He should have known not even his punishment would come easy, but the deal he’s offered to escape his fate stinks. Become the indentured servant to his despised enemy? No thanks, he’d rather be six feet under. With that in mind, he picks a deadly fight with two demon hunters, only to be rescued by one misguided, deliciously innocent white witch.
Marabella hasn’t a clue what possessed her to help Sam, particularly since he’s not the least bit grateful. She blames it on her overwhelming attraction to the dark, dangerous demon, and her exasperating quest to rid herself of the stubborn curse that guards her virginity. If the guild finds out, though, she can kiss her white-witch status goodbye.
A kiss is exactly what she gets, followed by a consuming hunger that breaks down all heavenly and earthly barriers…and leaves Sam saddled with the one thing he never wanted, a conscience, and a connection to Marabella that puts her soul on the line.
Warning: This book contains torturous use of disco music, one sinfully sexy demon who revels in being bad, a virgin witch whose innocence runs more than skin deep, and plenty of wicked, forbidden sex with explosive side effects—literally.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Getting Familiar With Your Demon:
I can’t believe I’m going through with this. Even if she really wasn’t. But in the end, she still had to endure an evening with a demon who possessed a caveman mentality and a one-track mind. A demon she just happened to have a raging case of horniness for.
Yeah, this couldn’t end badly. Not at all.
Dragging in a shaky breath, Marabella pulled into the parking garage down from Bella’s Boutique and cut the engine. She removed the keys from the ignition and prayed Sam wouldn’t comment on the constant jingling the keys made as they dangled from her trembling fingers. He joined her outside the vehicle, and after crossing the deserted boulevard, they walked the short distance to her storefront.
She attempted to jam the key into the lock, but her overworked nerves made the task impossible. Without saying a word, Sam gently nudged her aside and freed the bolt. She didn’t fail to notice the sardonic tilt of his mouth as she muttered a “Thanks” and pushed past him. The tumblers clicked, announcing Sam had secured the lock. She reached for the light switch, but he took her hand and led her away from the door. Her heart beating a chaotic mambo, she trailed along, trying not to focus on the fact he seemed to have a definite destination in mind. They pulled to a stop in the entry leading to the French Bohemian bedroom tableau, and her pulse ratcheted up several notches. She stared at the daybed before jerking her gaze to Sam. Immense heat simmered in his sin-filled eyes.