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As sheriff of Rusted Rattlesnake, Rose is used to being on top. Until the day she meets Talon, a bad-ass drifter on a motorcycle who shows her that being on the bottom can be loads of fun.
But things get ugly. Part-demons, hot up-against-the-wall sex, and alpha men, are a deadly mix. Learning who you are, and what you are, can sure mess up your love life. |
Cataclysm Blues
Excerpt
“Dammit,” Rose whispered. “Hate mysteries.”
Tracking down and killing the odd experiment that escaped from Badlands Station was far simpler, less headache inducing. Which reminded her. She tugged the note from her pocket. A possible escapee coming, a human type one. Now those she hated more than mysteries. Thank heavens this one seemed a mistake. They had it going the wrong way, coming inward, not escaping.
Killing the hell-sewn, even ones who were insane, and a danger to the public, turned her stomach. Their parts and their minds were human. The demon stitching didn't change that.
Deputy Yale was on tonight. She swallowed the dregs in her glass. Nothing left to do, except make sure the ex-rev didn't go nuts. She eyed him sourly. More likely he’d pass out and vomit on someone.
The music subsided. The phonograph had stopped—either it needed winding, or the ever-present dust had made it seize up. Hopefully that. Sand storms had their advantages. The quiet almost seemed to hurt her ears.
“I can tell you all about that fellow you were discussing.”
Who’d said that? Rose looked around at the other customers then stared at the ex-rev. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
Yep. Mouth moving, it was him. He turned and gazed at her.
Things inside her went kerthump and fell away into a pit—her heart, her stomach, probably her mind too. The man’s eyes were plain mesmerizing. Greenish. Centered on her.
She swallowed. “It’s rude to stare, and to listen to private conversations.” He didn't seem at all drunk.
His mouth twitched at one end, like a smile might occur if she was patient. “You talk that loud, expect people to hear. I can’t turn off my ears.”
Creepers, where did he get that sexy deep voice? Sounded like someone had scrubbed his throat with a wire brush. Maybe he ate nails for dinner, and bleach.
And still he didn't stop looking at her as if she was the most curious thing he’d seen for years. Like he saw her as a woman first, and sheriff way down coming last on the scale. Hardly anyone did that. The badge gave her away.
In bed, he would be just right. Coupla inches taller than her. Muscular without being a Neanderthal. Down hormones, down.
“I’ll forgive you this once. Name’s Talon.” He stretched and held out his hand. “It’s a nickname.”
That deep, deep voice again. Oh, yeah. Growl all you like, sir. The man-deprived place between her thighs quivered. “Rose. Sheriff Rose.”
She braced her muscles and shook his hand. The heavy male feel of his fingers on hers made her want to hang onto them all night. She untangled her fingers and ignored the way her skin seemed to pulse where he’d touched.
Then the smile happened, though not at his eyes. Working on that, my priority tonight—make the man smile properly.
“Pleased to meet you, Rose.”
Not sheriff. Oh, be still my crazy beating heart.
“Ditto. Now, what can you tell me, Talon?”
“Not here. Too many ears.”
The hell, you say? After you listening to Jake and me? “Where then?”
He gestured. “Out back. My motorcycle’s out there. We can chat.”
Do I look insane? Sheriff or not, walking out into a poorly lit parking area with this man was not wise. “Here, or not at all.”
“Suit yourself.” The words were slurred just a little. He searched in a back pocket of his jeans, found his wallet, then slapped some coins and notes onto the counter. He slid off the stool and his legs buckled. With a slight sway to his gait, he headed for the back door.
“Dammit,” Rose whispered. “Hate mysteries.”
Tracking down and killing the odd experiment that escaped from Badlands Station was far simpler, less headache inducing. Which reminded her. She tugged the note from her pocket. A possible escapee coming, a human type one. Now those she hated more than mysteries. Thank heavens this one seemed a mistake. They had it going the wrong way, coming inward, not escaping.
Killing the hell-sewn, even ones who were insane, and a danger to the public, turned her stomach. Their parts and their minds were human. The demon stitching didn't change that.
Deputy Yale was on tonight. She swallowed the dregs in her glass. Nothing left to do, except make sure the ex-rev didn't go nuts. She eyed him sourly. More likely he’d pass out and vomit on someone.
The music subsided. The phonograph had stopped—either it needed winding, or the ever-present dust had made it seize up. Hopefully that. Sand storms had their advantages. The quiet almost seemed to hurt her ears.
“I can tell you all about that fellow you were discussing.”
Who’d said that? Rose looked around at the other customers then stared at the ex-rev. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
Yep. Mouth moving, it was him. He turned and gazed at her.
Things inside her went kerthump and fell away into a pit—her heart, her stomach, probably her mind too. The man’s eyes were plain mesmerizing. Greenish. Centered on her.
She swallowed. “It’s rude to stare, and to listen to private conversations.” He didn't seem at all drunk.
His mouth twitched at one end, like a smile might occur if she was patient. “You talk that loud, expect people to hear. I can’t turn off my ears.”
Creepers, where did he get that sexy deep voice? Sounded like someone had scrubbed his throat with a wire brush. Maybe he ate nails for dinner, and bleach.
And still he didn't stop looking at her as if she was the most curious thing he’d seen for years. Like he saw her as a woman first, and sheriff way down coming last on the scale. Hardly anyone did that. The badge gave her away.
In bed, he would be just right. Coupla inches taller than her. Muscular without being a Neanderthal. Down hormones, down.
“I’ll forgive you this once. Name’s Talon.” He stretched and held out his hand. “It’s a nickname.”
That deep, deep voice again. Oh, yeah. Growl all you like, sir. The man-deprived place between her thighs quivered. “Rose. Sheriff Rose.”
She braced her muscles and shook his hand. The heavy male feel of his fingers on hers made her want to hang onto them all night. She untangled her fingers and ignored the way her skin seemed to pulse where he’d touched.
Then the smile happened, though not at his eyes. Working on that, my priority tonight—make the man smile properly.
“Pleased to meet you, Rose.”
Not sheriff. Oh, be still my crazy beating heart.
“Ditto. Now, what can you tell me, Talon?”
“Not here. Too many ears.”
The hell, you say? After you listening to Jake and me? “Where then?”
He gestured. “Out back. My motorcycle’s out there. We can chat.”
Do I look insane? Sheriff or not, walking out into a poorly lit parking area with this man was not wise. “Here, or not at all.”
“Suit yourself.” The words were slurred just a little. He searched in a back pocket of his jeans, found his wallet, then slapped some coins and notes onto the counter. He slid off the stool and his legs buckled. With a slight sway to his gait, he headed for the back door.