When she joined him, he said to his father. "This is my mate." His tone and look dared for there to be any argument. "And the mother of your grandchild."
A number of expressions crossed the elder male's proud features while the young couple stood before him with their arms around each other, completely calm and sure of themselves. Finally, his features settled on stiff resignation.
"I see it's a fait accompli. Do you expect me to be gracious about it?" he asked Clark.
"Yes, we do," Heather said. "Merry Christmas, Mr. Losimba."
Losimba looked at his son, then at Heather, and smiled. "A grandchild." The couple nodded. Losimba's shoulders slumped, but he kept smiling. "That is quite a Christmas present."
Heather held a hand out to Losimba. "It's cold out here, come in with us and join the party."
He gave a stiff nod. Marj could tell he wanted his son back, even if it required compromise. Compromise was a good beginning.
"All right," he said, and went along with the young couple.
"That went well, I thought," Harry said. He whirled Marj around, and back into his embrace. "Where were we?"
"Could we get back to kissing? It warms me up."
"Me too. I'm going to more than warm you up, when everyone's gone and the kids are tucked in. Anyway," he went on. "I was about to tell you the third way werefolk keep our secrets safe from outsiders."
She smiled. "How?"
"Why, we marry them, of course."
Marj's heart soared, and she held Harry even tighter. She never wanted to let him go, and she didn't intend to. She threw back her head and laughed. "I love you, Harrison Blethyin!"
"I guess that means you accept my proposal."
"I have to. We're already having an engagement party."
"Then it will be a very merry Christmas." And he kissed her.
* * *
POCKET STAR BOOKS
PROUDLY PRESENTS
I HUNGER FOR YOU
SUSAN SIZEMORE
Available in paperback Spring 2005
from Pocket Star Books
Turn the page for a preview of
I Hunger for You....
"Looks like we have a robbery gone sour. Maybe we can work with their demands."
The negotiator's voice, heard through the earpiece of member Colin Foxe's headset, sounded relieved.
"Do you want us to hold?" the team leader questioned.
After a considerable pause, the negotiator said, "Get your team in place, but wait for a go."
They already knew that there was an officer down inside; a cop who'd noticed something suspicious while driving by. She'd called it in, then gone inside. Shots had been fired. The situation escalated quickly after that.
Colin could smell the wounded officer's blood drifting on the evening breeze through a bullet hole in the office window. He could also sense the faint flutter of her heartbeat. She wasn't dead, but she didn't have much time. He couldn't see inside, since curtains had been pulled across the wide windows at the front of the building, but his heightened senses picked up a tangled mixture of physical markers and high emotions.
It was everybody on the team's job to stop this situation, but he took it very personally. He'd taken vows, made promises to protect and serve humanity that were far stronger and more binding than even his oath as a Los Angeles police officer.
He and his S.W.A.T. team were here to see that the hostages and injured cop were saved. It was a great team, well-trained, well-coordinated, well-led; he was proud to be a part of it.
Dressed all in black, he moved in line with the rest of the team. Crouching low, they had formed a circle that was stealthily closing in on the one-story building. Their target was the small publishing company located in an office park on a quiet side street. At least four armed men were inside, holding a dozen hostages.
A cloudy night covered the team's movements as they left behind the police vehicles that filled the street and dodged carefully around the cars in the parking lot. To focus on their objective, they used night scope goggles--all but Colin, who'd left his up on the brim of his helmet. He could easily see in the dark.
Though he was outwardly calm, the excitement of the hunt burned through him, as it always did at times like this. The extra senses he normally reined in were fully focused. He could smell fear, and taste it, as well. The threat of violence hung around the office building like a pall of smoke.
One touch of anger scratched across his senses like nails on slate. He didn't think the fury was coming from one of the perps. It was one of the hostages, and she--yes, that was definitely a strong sense of femaleness--she was royally pissed off. In a hostage situation, it was better to be scared than angry. Scared people were more likely to keep their heads down and do as they were told, increasing their chances of survival. Colin didn't like this, it added risk to the situation. If this woman did something stupid...
Telepathy wasn't his strongest sense, and using it might distract him from the team effort. But he did risk sending one thought toward the perps and hostages alike.
Calm down.
I am calm, came the immediate reply.
It took all his training to keep the surprised Colin from rising out of his crouch. She'd heard him! And answered! And the brief touch of her mind on his made him red hot.
Suddenly shouts erupted from the building, followed by shots. And screams.
"Go!"
He was up and moving even as the command came.
Colin was the first one through the door, rushing in just in time to see the flying side kick that knocked away the gun of the man who would have shot him.
"Hey!" Colin shouted at the woman who'd disarmed the shooter.
"Thanks for the distraction," she called back. She jumped and kicked again, straight up, taking the bad guy under the chin. He dropped like a rock.
Colin grabbed her by the waist as she came back down, and pushed her to the floor.
"Stay put," he ordered, as the rest of his team came boiling in through the door he'd broken down.
Big brown eyes looked up at him, full of shock and fury that sizzled all the way through him. He motioned for her to get under a nearby desk, and turned to take out another gunman. There was already a third man down. No doubt the Karate Kid had gotten him, too--which was probably why the shooting had started.
Farther back in the building he heard shouts and screaming. Members of the team were heading that way at a run.
"You could have gotten everybody killed!" Colin yelled at the woman.
"Well, I didn't!" she shouted back.
This was no time for an argument. Colin quickly joined his team and got into the well-practiced rhythm of a rescue operation. But even as he went about helping to secure the rest of the bad guys, part of him was still aware of the impression of soft, warm flesh over hard muscle he'd gotten in the moment he held her. Her skin held the scent of ginger, and her psychic signature was pure heat, as if her blood was laced with chili peppers.
He couldn't let it go, and marched back to the front of the building as soon as the place had been secured. By this time she was out from under the desk, and one of the medics was arguing with her. Colin noticed that one side of her face was badly bruised, and she was cradling her left hand with her right.
Anger shot through him, and a hot, possessive protectiveness. "Who hurt you?" he demanded.
She looked around, and her dark brown eyes locked with his. "I'm fine."
"That doesn't answer the question."
Her gaze flickered to an unconscious perp on the floor, then back to Colin. "I took care of it."
Her response only served to redirect his annoyance at her. He ripped off his helmet and headset and glared at her. "You had no business doing what you--"
"Hey!" she interrupted him. "I saved your ass."
"No, you didn't."
"He was going to shoot you when you came through that door."
"He wouldn't have." He took the woman by the shoulders, and
was instantly and intimately aware of the warmth of her skin. "My job is to do the rescuing."
Her anger was incandescent. "You were a little late. Those men held us hostage for four hours. Where were you?"
"Organizing a safe rescue." Everything about her burned him, but he liked it. She infuriated him, needed to be tamed, and he liked, that too.
"Did you stop at Starbucks for a few lattes on the way?" She jerked her head to where the medics were working on the wounded officer. "She could have died. We all could have. Somebody had to do something."
"So you decided to play hero? Bad move, sister."
Her head came up sharply, brown eyes flashing.
He could have kissed her then and there. "I am not your sister."
"And you're no hero, either," Colin shot back.
"Officer," the medic cut in. He put a hand firmly on Colin's arm. "Officer."
The Prime part of Colin almost turned on the medic with bared fangs, as if the man was challenging him for a mate. It shocked him that the instinctual impulse was triggered by a mortal, and it took him a moment to get the vampire part of himself under control. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath--and let the woman go.
"Ms. Luchese's injured," he heard the medic say. "We need to get her to the ER."
"I told you I'm fine," she said.
Colin looked at her. "Luchese, you always think you know best, and never do what you're told, right?"
She smiled. It was wicked, and edgy, and that lit a different kind of fire in him.
"Yeah," she acknowledged.
"Go with the medic," he told her. She would have protested further, but he sent a stern command into her mind. Go.
Then his team commander called his name, and Colin went back to work without another glance.
Several hours later he met the woman in the ER as she came out of a treatment room. Despite the frantic hubbub in this part of the hospital she spotted him instantly, as if she was as drawn to him as he was to her. She looked at him, then looked away. He felt her consider walking past him and out the door. Her left arm was in a sling, and a shiny cream covered the bruises on her face. Her shoulders had a tired slump to them but she consciously straightened when she saw him. Apparently she was ready to do battle all over again.
"You look beautiful," he said, coming up to her.
Her eyes went wide in surprise. She thought he was making fun of her, and asked, "Officer, are you supposed to talk like that?"
"I'm off duty."
"You're not here to--take a statement, or something?"
"Didn't an officer talk to you already?"
"Yeah. He told me everyone got out okay. So why are you--?"
"I wanted to check on you." He couldn't help but run a hand up her uninjured arm, and felt her shiver. "How are you feeling?"
"Nothing's broken, just a sprained wrist," she answered. "I don't need the sling, but I promised the nice intern who looked at it that I'd wear it until I'm outside the hospital door." She took a deep breath, and made a wry face. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. You risked your life to save us. Thank you."
He gave a slight shrug. He was there to take care of her kind. Mortal life was precious and it was an honor to protect the helpless--even if Luchese here didn't think she was helpless.
"I was scared," she went on. "That made metesty."
"What were you doing out in the front office with your captor? Why weren't you tied up in the back with the others?"
"I thought you weren't here to ask questions?"
"Not officially; I'm curious. You were up to something, weren't you?"
"They were making ransom demands," she answered. "They were incompetent idiots with guns. They--"
"Had the wrong building," he filled in. "We know that from questioning them. By the time they figured out they'd screwed up, the officer had called the robbery in. But what were you doing?"
"Trying to split them up, so I could take one down and get his weapon. They were demanding a lot of money, and threatening to kill people if they didn't get it. So I told them I was an heiress, and if they'd let me call my family, they'd be rich. I got one of them to take me up front so I could use the receptionist's phone, while one of the others was occupied talking to your negotiator in the back. It worked." Then she laughed, the sound a little shaky. "And I was only there to pick up a friend for lunch."
He shook a finger under her nose. "Luchese, that was very stupid of you. Brave, though," he added, as a flash of annoyance went through her. He touched the tip of her nose, then found himself tracing the outline of her lips. Soft, full, warm lips. A wave of hunger crashed through him. He was going to kiss those lips, soon. The smoldering look she gave him told him she knew it, too. He was going to taste her. But this was not the place.
He made himself take a step back. "My name's Colin Foxe," he finally introduced himself. "You have a first name, Luchese?"
"Mia," she answered. "Mia Luchese."
Mia. A short, pretty, uncomplicated mortal name. Nothing like the complex, beautiful names of vampire females. And even though someday he would bond with a vampire female, right now, he wanted this human woman.
He reached out and took her uninjured hand. "I'll take you home."
* * *
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CHRISTINE FEEHAN is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty novels, including Wild Rain and the Dark Series, as well as numerous novellas, including The Twilight Before Christmas and "After the Music" in A Very Gothic Christmas, both available from Pocket Books. She lives in Cobb, California. Visit her website at www.christinefeehan.com.
SUSAN SIZEMORE is the author of I Burn for You, I Thirst for You, and the upcoming novel I Hunger for You, a trilogy of vampire romances published by Pocket Star Books. She has also written historical romances and other vampire fantasy books. Susan lives in Minnesota.
Christine Feehan, The Shadows of Christmas Past
(Series: Feehan Christmas Stories # 3)
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