Well, that and my husband.

I walked through the grotto, collecting stray clothes along the way. Dev’s apartment was at the top of a building he owned in the middle of downtown Dallas. The bottom of the building housed his club, Ether, the hottest club of its kind. But it wasn’t the kind of club that showed up on the “Best of Dallas” lists since I’m one of the only humans to be permitted entrance.

Ether was the place where the supernaturals of the world went to mix and mingle and do a little business. It was an official place of peace, despite my last year’s best effort to burn it down. I hadn’t meant to, but then I never do. Trouble just follows me. That had been my first date with Dev. At the time, I wasn’t married. It didn’t take me long to remedy that.

I slowed, unable to rush through. Dev’s “condo” took up the whole top floor of the building and was the most decadent space I’d ever seen. The first time Dev had taken me up the private elevator from his office in Ether to his penthouse, the doors had opened and I’d gasped. I called the whole place “the grotto.” It was something like an indoor forest, complete with a brook that ran through the various rooms of the apartment. When the sun was out, the whole place was lit with soft, natural light. In the dead of night, moonbeams streamed through the overhead windows, shining down and making the room seem magical.

It’s odd for a faery to live year round in the city. They don’t like the feeling of being enclosed. It goes against their nature, but Dev was mortal. He was the only one of his mother’s children who had not taken after her, and because of his mortality, he’d chosen to leave the sithein and cut off ties to his family. Since the day we’d met, I could remember two conversations we’d had about his family.

This place made me think he missed them.

I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The bathroom was bigger than my entire living room. The splendor of Dev’s home put in stark contrast our relative differences. Dev had money and a lot of it. I had recently finished a job that gave me enough money to buy a little fixer-upper in the country, but I was starting to hurt for cash. My account was down to the low four digits, and I didn’t have more money coming in.

I would have given up all the money I had made on my last job if I could have changed the outcome of it. Some jobs aren’t worth the payday.

I tossed my clothes on the sink and stepped under the rainfall of deliciously hot water. The water stroked over my skin, and I stretched again. Sex with Dev was inventive and exciting, and required a certain level of flexibility. I could see yoga classes in my future.

Suddenly two big hands came from behind and cupped my breasts. I sighed for two reasons—one because it felt so good, and two because there would be no getting out of a fight. I let my head fall back against his chest, his body nestling against mine. If we were going to fight, I might as well enjoy the first part.

“Zoey,” Dev breathed in my ear, his voice the sweetest of seductions. “I sincerely apologize. I have treated you poorly.”

I smiled because I knew what was coming next. “I disagree, Dev. I was treated incredibly well. At least three times.”

One hand stayed at my breast, plucking at my nipple, pinching and lighting it up. Another clever hand made its way lower. His fingers slid over my clit, and that was all it took. I was warm and wet again. “If I had done my job properly, you would have passed out. The fact that you can move means I have more work to do. I didn’t even get to the part where I tie you up and we play.”

Dev liked to play. He liked to play with handcuffs and toys. He had a whole closet full of naughty little devices, like an FAO Schwarz for kink. With a low growl, he shifted, turning me toward him. His mouth took mine in a deep, luxurious kiss. This was what Dev and I did best.

He lifted me up, settling me on the ledge of the shower. I was sure the contractors who had built the place thought the wide shelf was to store shampoo and soap, but I knew better. Dev had designed it with sex in mind. He moved between my legs, the ledge placing my pussy at the perfect height for him.

“I can’t get enough of you. I fucking crave you.” He’d come prepared. He slipped a condom on and worked his way in. It wasn’t long before my back was up against the natural rock of the shower and I was screaming out number four.

“Let’s dry off and go back to bed,” he whispered as he held me up because my legs weren’t quite working yet. It wasn’t easy keeping up with a man whose grandfather had been a fertility god. “I’ll tell Albert to send up breakfast for two in the morning.”

I hugged him close to me, hoping that my affection would make the next few minutes easier. “I can’t. I have to go. I have a meeting with a client.”

Dev stopped, his whole face lighting up. I suspected one of the reasons he liked me was my unusual job. I was a thief who specialized in procuring objects of an arcane nature. Stealing from supernaturals made my job one of the riskier fields. It was thrilling when the job ran well, and completely terrifying when anything went wrong. Dev had run one job with me and had been bugging me ever since to let him go again. He’d gotten off on the adrenaline rush.

He winked down at me. “That’s great, sweetheart. I’ll get dressed and go with you. I promise to keep my mouth shut and be good eye candy. Should I take the Ruger or the Glock?”

I pulled away from him because no amount of affection was going to fix this. “Sorry, but I have to go alone.”

His deep green eyes formed suspicious slits. “Alone? You never go alone. That’s your first rule.” He took a step back, his mouth turning down. “So if you’re not going alone, you’re going with Daniel.”

And there it was, the one word that could wreck our day. “He is my partner.”

“He’s your husband.” Dev spat the word out as though it was poison. He stalked out of the shower, leaving me with an incredible view of his preternaturally glorious ass.

I picked up a bottle of something Dev liked the smell of and then put it back down in favor of plain old soap. I told myself it was because I needed to be professional. I didn’t want to go into a client meeting smelling like a woman who had just had sex four times. If I was honest with myself, and I tried not to be, I didn’t want to hurt Daniel.

I finished up in the shower and turned it off, wrapping a warm towel around my body. Dev was sitting on the sink when I went to retrieve my clothes. He’d slipped into silk boxers and looked at me with a sad smile.

“Sorry,” he said. “I know I’m being an ass. I’m just jealous.”

“You have nothing to be jealous of.” It sounded like a reassuring lie even to my ears. “If I could get a divorce, I would.”

I’d come to accept the marriage I had been tricked into. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. Tricked is a harsh word. Daniel had been trying to protect me at the time. It was his excuse for everything. I didn’t resent the protection. I resented the fact that he’d left me ignorant. I had to find out from a demon that we were married. There’d been no vows of love and devotion, no white dress or fabulous reception. There had been blood and sex and a transfer of ownership between Daniel and myself.

And there was no divorce when you were married to a vampire.


Wicked and Dangerous, featuring Wicked All Night


Wicked Lovers, Book 7.5

By Shayla Black

Available October 1, 2013


A sweet school teacher who changed towns, jobs, and lives after her divorce decides to take a lover. She hooks up with a bodyguard whose talents under the sheets make her melt. Until she learns that his motives are just as dangerous as they are wicked…


* * * *


Excerpt:


Rachel Linden fixed her gaze across the room at the man staring her way, standing between the two suits. Her jaw dropped before she forcibly snapped it shut. Holy cow! Between the alcohol and the press of bodies, she was overheated. But he made her shiver.

Military-short black hair capped off his angled face, covered by a healthy two days’ growth of beard. His eyes remained hidden behind a pair of aviators that rested on top of chiseled cheekbones. His black shirt nearly busted at the shoulder seams. Under the short sleeves, his biceps bulged. The soft cotton clung to every valley and ridge of his pectorals and abdominals.

He was a man with a capital M, the sort who made a woman swallow her tongue. The kind her mother had warned her about. The type who’d starred in her fantasies. And the one she wanted sliding against her skin-to-skin now. Dark and bad, yes . . . but those big hands and muscled forearms alone said he’d be oh so good.

Just looking at him, Rachel had trouble breathing. Every inch of him was hard. If she’d had a fantasy in the flesh, he’d be it.

A tattoo—Asian writing maybe—drifted down his veined forearm. Dog tags hung from his neck. The little smile curling his lips was somewhere between an invitation and a challenge. And he was staring directly at her.

The bottom fell out of her stomach. Normally, she’d shy away from such a man. Aaron, the fifth grade social studies teacher, had asked her out a few weeks ago. He was polite and had kind brown eyes. He’d mentioned a local theater production that sounded interesting. That was her speed. This man in front of her . . .

“He looks good enough to eat. And to lick, slurp, suck . . . Damn, girl!” Shonda, one of the art teachers, murmured in her ear.

If you’re going to dive into a meal after starving, why not start with the juiciest one you can find?

She glanced at Shonda’s dark skin gleaming under the dim house lights and faintly flashing colored strobes. “Is it my imagination or is he staring at me?”

“Right at you, like he thinks you’re a tasty snack. Go on now. Talk to him.”

And say what? Hi, I haven’t had sex since I divorced my ex over a year ago, and I’ve never had it as down and dirty and sweaty as I’ll bet you could give it to me.

“Maybe he thinks I work here.”

Shonda snorted. “Maybe you’re insane. Jarelle is an awesome fiancé with enough freak in bed to keep me smiling, but hell . . . If I were single, I’d be all over him like paste on wallpaper.”

Rachel laughed. Leave it to Shonda to tell it like it was. And to be right. Rachel had to admit that she’d never know what could be if she didn’t try to talk to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Hot.

She turned back toward him, a welcoming smile in place. But he was already leaving behind his two friends, wearing insanely expensive suits, and walking her way. No, “walking” was the wrong word. “Approaching” was too weak. “Looming” maybe? Still not right. “Prowling,” yes. “Stalking” sounded even more like it.

He tore off his sunglasses to reveal a stark pair of blue eyes, unabashedly roaming over her body with a heat that made her swallow. He kept coming at her, invading her personal space without compunction. Reflexively, she retreated. He smiled, then did it again and again—until her back hit the wall.

“Hi, beautiful.”

Mercy, the low rumble of his voice was sexy. Her knees quaked.

“Hi.” She breathed the word as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

He looked her up and down, obviously scoping her out. “Hmm, you with all those curves, and me here with no breaks . . . Damn!”

OMG, was that some sort of pick-up line?

“Um . . .”

If he’d intended to flatter her, he was headed in the wrong direction. She’d write him off, except . . . The black skirt Shonda had insisted she wear tonight had seemed stupidly tight—until she saw the appreciation in his gaze. That and his line, no matter how terrible, made her think that, maybe, he actually found her sexy. And she wasn’t interested in him for his conversational skills.

“Too much, huh?” he asked with a frown. “How about, there must be something wrong with my eyes because I can’t take them off you.”

He was trying to pick her up—badly—but out of a bar full of pretty girls, he’d zeroed in on her. Would wonders never cease?

Maybe if she stopped focusing on her ex-husband’s litany of critical comments and started to believe that some men might like her as she was, curves and all, it wouldn’t seem so weird.

“Definitely too much.” She gave him a smile that she hoped looked sophisticated and wry, rather than giggly and excited.

“Oh, you like subtle. I got it.” He leaned closer and leered. “Hey, baby, you come here often?”