Say No to SOPA

Yes, artist, musican and author copyrights need to be protected, but not at the price we will have to pay. No controls and way to much wiggle room for big corporations to abuse this law.


As an author, I'm opposed to this bill and you should be too, if you value your rights.

Speak to your congressmen and women, let them know that Big Brother has crossed the line and we will not tolerate cyber-babysitting. Say No to SOPA and make sure those that are considering passing this law, know how you feel.


D L Jackson

Seducing Liberty is out!

Spies, time travel and a ménage make up the premise of Seducing Liberty. I don’t often write historical novels, but a story about Washington’s Culper Spy Ring, proved to be irresistible when penning this 1NightStand story.


On release day I usually show you the cuts that didn’t make it into the final story, and today will be no exception. During the delicate task of weaving this story together I had to make some choices. I wanted this to be one of those stories where the reader asks, did she really travel back in time, or did she black out and dream it? I needed it to be feasible in a fantasy setting, or contemporary. So here’s the ending that never made it, because I couldn’t work it into the real world.

Chop from Seducing Liberty: “That’s a wrap for the day, ladies and gentlemen. Want you back here Monday at 6 a.m. to finish the beach scene.” Liberty blinked, staring up at the mid-day sky. For a moment she’d thought she’d been in another place. A wet dream. That’s what she got for watching her assistant fuck. A shadow fell over and she lifted her chin to stare at a face backlit by the sun and in silhouette.

“You need a hand up?”

She reached out and took his hand. Something about him…

He pulled her to her feet and chest to chest. Liberty’s eyes widened. Dark hair, blue eyes and a wicked smile. Her heart bounced against her tonsils. No. it couldn’t be. Thomas didn’t exist—well, not in her time. He wore a white button up shirt, with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and blue jeans—so un-patriotic. Well, not something she’d ever seen him in, and damn if he didn’t wear 2011 well. “Thomas?”

“So this is what you do when you’re not spying for the Patriots,” he said.

A second man made his way over to them, dressed in knee length khaki shorts and a t-shirt with a sexy pirate woman and rum ad on the front. His hair was a little longer, but the spark in his eyes and the come fuck me vibe, was more than familiar.

Definitely not a wet dream. “Aaron? How did you…”

“Not sure, but I have to tell you the men’s room down the beach is amazing. You hit a lever and all the waste disappears—and hot running water pipes into a bowl for you to wash your hands. And jet skis, and my God, have you seen the bikinis? Do you own a bikini, Madelyn?”

“Bikini?” She blinked. “Are you really here? On the set? Was any of our date real or was it all a figment of my imagination?”

Thomas smiled. “Yes. Yes. And all of it—real. Somehow you brought us with you. When we woke, we were lying on the sand dressed like this. A note from a someone called Madame Eve was between us.” He handed it to her.

Liberty took the envelope and opened the flap, slipping the paper out.

Your dates have come to you. Enjoy. She looked up. “Are you staying?”

Thomas and Aaron nodded. “We talked. Wherever you are, we decided we want to be—if you’ll have us. Besides, we already have a job. Some director guy offered us a part in something called a movie. He said we looked like the perfect Patriots, and could use a couple of replacements.”

She couldn’t agree more. Liberty smiled and hooked each man’s arm, walking them down the beach and toward her trailer. “If you liked the toilets, wait until you see my shower.”

Buy Link:  http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=385&osCsid=r3k7ufgetqfro68ic8mrffimu7

Thanks for stopping by and helping me to celebrate Seducing Liberty’s release day!

D L

Hauntingly Erotic Scavenger Hunt

Boo!

You just might find a clue in a recent post.

Be sure to stop by http://backwardmomentum.blogspot.com/ for a scavenger quickie!

What I'm working on this week.

Hear No Evil/sequel to Slipping the Past

Her soul! The fucker took her soul. Nate sat up, eyes wide open. Blood pounded through his veins and his heart slammed against his ribs like a jackhammer, driving the breath from his lungs. A trickle of moisture meandered down his spine. He swallowed, kicked the sheets away, shoved both hands into his hair and pulled his knees to his chest. No!


She didn’t kill herself. All these years—all this time he’d believed she’d committed suicide. He’d never known. Where was she now? Where did Ian put her?

He swung his legs over the bed. His innards twisted. “It was a dream.” He tried to convince himself, but he knew the truth. Why now? Ever since he’d inherited Ian’s body he’d been dreamless. The voices kept REM away and made drifting off impossible.

Tonight that all changed. What had awakened the small bit of the beast? Ian’s soul had been fragmented and destroyed, all but a small sliver that had been missed. It sat at the back of his mind and fed him dark thoughts, but never came forward, it wasn’t strong enough. It had felt like nothing more than an ugly thought.

Until now.

It reveled in the death of his mother. He felt Ian’s delight. He’d felt his hunger. Nate reached up and touched the brand that now burned. Ian’s energy felt stronger, harder to hold back. God, he was in trouble. He’d no one to talk to that wouldn’t trigger the voices and visions—an anchor to sanity.

Nate froze. Except her. He’d hadn’t heard, seen or felt anything when she’d spoken to him. Well, that wasn’t one hundred percent true. He’d felt something. He’d gotten damned hard and it had taken hours and an ice shower for it to go away. Everything about it was unnatural and if he’d learned anything lately, it was also fate.

He needed to talk. He needed to work through the dream without outside visions interfering. He needed to freaking think. Most of all, he needed to see Paxton.

She’d left her purse in the office. When Jocelyn hadn’t been looking, he’d rifled through it and had taken the opportunity to learn something about her. He should be ashamed he’d snooped, but he wasn’t. She was in trouble and needed help. But she wasn’t the only one. He needed her help.

Nate glanced out the window then at the clock. Three in the morning, a little early to drop by and return her handbag. He could go to her house and wait for her to wake. He sure wasn’t going back to sleep.

“I am not Ian Saefa. I am not a monster.” He eyed his reflection in a large mirror that leaned against the wall. The swelling in his face had gone down and the black and purple had faded to tan and olive. Not pretty, but better than before. They did indeed heal faster than most.

He reached out and touched the mirror’s frame. He kept it to remind him of what resided inside him and what he could become. He hated looking in. It always seemed like someone else stared back, and frankly, it creeped him out. But he had his reasons. Good ones. His gaze traveled to the corner to where a note had been scrawled across the silver surface.

“Know thy enemy.”

First thing when he woke, Nate looked into it and would recite the message over and over. Evil still resided in this body and he wouldn’t allow himself to forget, nor would he become the monster Ian Saefa had been.

“Know thy enemy.” The brown eyes, so dark they looked black, bore into him. Ian. That energy had wrapped him in a stranglehold, filling his head with cold thoughts, urging him to do things he would have never considered doing before—terrifying things—gruesome things—things that made him question if he was no longer sane. “Know thy enemy. Know thy enemy.” Nate leaned in. “Fuck you, asshole.” He stepped back and flipped the mirror on its stand so he could no longer see him.

Ian might have left him a hell of a body, as he was built like an Olympic athlete and not bad looking—but he also had that whole Boogieman thing down. Yeah, Ian had worked that to perfection. It was in the eyes—the windows to the soul, and his windows weren’t any place a sane person would want look. What had looking into those eyes done to Paxton? He didn’t want to scare her. He needed her—more than she could imagine. He rubbed his face again.

She seemed terrified of him, but at the same time he’d seen something else. It went beyond terror, the way she’d looked at the brand, the way she’d studied it. Interest? Curiosity? No, there was more to it. He had to find out what. His cock took notice at the thought and insured he’d be taking another ice shower before the morning was over.

For the first time since he’d inherited Ian’s body, he wanted to get into someone’s head and know their every thought. Funny how the thing he despised so much, was the very thing he wanted most. He wanted to know what Paxton had been thinking about him. No, wanted was too casual. He needed to know.

A ghost from his past once told him that there were greater forces at work in the world than he could possibly imagine. He’d but dipped his toe in the pool and he still couldn’t grasp it all. What if those same forces were at work again? Something brought Paxton to him—the one woman he couldn’t read—the one woman he could be around. He could see the desperation in her eyes, but she’d fled so fast he didn’t get a chance to ask what she’d needed.

Had he scared her away? He had to admit that Ian was the last person most would want to meet face-to-face, but he wasn’t Ian. That asshole was gone—mostly. He had to show her he wasn’t who he appeared to be, that she could trust him.

He ran his fingers along the scar tissue, knowing he couldn’t do anything about the brand. The previous owner of the body made sure of that. A tat could be removed.

The brand—impossible.

Nate rose and strolled to his closet. However, he could attempt to look less scary. What did a reaper wear just to pop in and say hi? He flipped through several shirts and pants to stop on a pair of black dress slacks and a red button up shirt. He yanked them off the hangers and pulled them on.

Yeah, black and red were real calming, no pastels or khakis in his closet, but at least the red shirt didn’t have a picture of the grim reaper flipping the bird, or big bold letters across the front that said “My Best Friend Went to Hell and All I Got Was This Lousy Tee-Shirt.” Not that they were intended to scare, they weren’t. They were supposed to be ice-breakers—jokes, purely meant to ease tension when people saw him.

Nate snorted. Yeah, that’s what his shirts did. Nobody this day and age had a sense of humor. His tee shirts sent people fleeing in terror like Godzilla stomped the city block. One look and they ran, cried or started babbling like idiots.

“Well, Paxton, I hope you like breakfast with your coffee.” He hoped she liked surprises too, because he planned to drop a big one on her. Six foot nine inches of surprise. He’d leave the Louisville. On the streets, there wasn’t anyone badder, and he really didn’t need his bat to prove it. She might be a bit intimidated by it anyway.

The idea was to present a calm, respectable image.

What I'm Working on this

This is from book four of my Blown Away Series. Here, Avery and Trouble go out on their first mission to investigate an abandonned mining scoop called The Gold Digger.

“This whole situation seems unusual.” Trouble stepped into an open bay and let her gaze travel across the immense interior. The deck had an inoperable lift and emergency ladder for evacuation, should the power be cut, which it was. One shuttle remained in the bay, ice caked its exterior like frosting. Crates full of raw ore sat packed, waiting for transport to a smelting plant—billions in abandoned credit, left behind like trash.“ Why would anyone abandon the scoop and this cargo? A captain would never leave this behind. I see one shuttle, perhaps it belonged to the command crew, but why wouldn’t they have taken it? It’s weird.”


“They didn’t abandon it.”

“Well, it’s the only one left.” She surveyed the hold again; nothing retained any heat as though anyone were present, or had been present for quite some time. The lights in the bay flickered on. Trouble closed her eyes to block the brightness. She reached for the controls on the lift, but it didn’t move. Frozen like everything else onboard. She’d have to take the ladder down. “This whole ship looks pretty abandoned to me.”

“Not from where I’m standing. I’ve got bodies stacked up like firewood—a total of seven. Looks like your command crew. Well, some of them. I see the First Mate, but the ordnance officer, medical officer, security officer and captain aren’t present. Looks like a skeleton crew. Bare bones—what they’d leave behind to watch the ship until help could be brought in. Heating malfunction maybe.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. The captain wouldn’t abandon his ship to anyone else,” she said. “Not for a broken boiler,” she mumbled.

“A mutiny might explain it, but I’d expect to see blast marks and bodies everywhere. The ship would look like a war zone.”

“Who would kill them? They’re miners, right?”

“Yeah, but the question you should ask yourself is who stacked the bodies. It looks like they were prepared for a burial. I’ve got some kind of funny ritual marks carved all over them—post mortem. No blood.”

“Ritual marks?” Only people she could think of, used ritual marks to prepare the dead for the afterlife, and as Avery had mentioned, carved into the flesh. The funny symbols designated their rank and position after translation. Not good. Trouble’s heart pounded against her ribs. “What kind of marks?”

“Circles inside circles, intertwining braids and hash marks. I’ve even got a sun, pierced with what looks like a lightning bolts. This is unlike anything I’ve seen before.”

“What you describe sounds like an Odroxian ritual preformed prior to cremation.”

“What did you just say?”

“Oh crap.” Trouble fired up her blaster rifle. It began to hum. “Avery?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“How far away are you?”

“One minute—and running.”

“I’m starting up the shuttle. Did you see the bomb?” She put the blaster on percussion and fired a bolt at the shuttle. Ice shattered and slid off in sheets, dropping to the deck around it.

“No. Did you?”

“Negative.” Trouble slid the strap of her blaster onto her shoulder and yanked her helmet off. She needed to see each step and the visor hindered too much of her visuals. She scrambled down the ladder descending as fast as she could without losing her footing. One of the frozen steel bars snapped like a twig and her boots slipped out from under her, slamming her face against a metal rung. A crunch filled her head.

Bells rang in her ears. Trouble kicked out, trying to reclaim her footing, but the soles of her boots failed to find purchase and slipped again. Her weight dropped, breaking her grip. The blaster strap came free from her shoulder and the weapon raced her to the frozen deck, landing first with a loud clang and then sliding several feet away. She hit on her back and smacked her head again. Pain pounded through her skull and bright lights filled her eyes.

“Get up.”

She rolled to her knees, her head swimming, and her lungs burning. The world around her spun. She didn’t want to die, not like this—not this way. The knees of her squeeze suit stuck to the decking as she tried to crawl and her hands slipped out from under her. Trouble collapsed to her belly. “I’m stuck to the deck. The heated threads…” She gasped, still unable to draw a solid breath. Why had she thought taking her helmet off was a good idea?

“Get up.”

This time the voice wasn’t in her head. The rails of the ladder sang. Pellets of fractured ice bounced off the docking pad, followed by a loud thud as Avery’s feet hit the deck. A hand circled her bicep. He lifted her up, heaved over his shoulder and ran across the deck, breathing heavy but otherwise unaffected by what she suffered. Everything blurred before her eyes.

“Stay with me, Devoe.”

“Not going anywhere.” Then everything went black.

Please help me welcome, Author Keira Kroft

Kiera is here today to talk about a hot topic.
Three guesses what.

And look, he comes with accessories. Who doesn't need the hose to cool down after that? Somebody call the fire department. Looks like a five alarm. *fans self*

Hoo Boy! I think I need a hero!
Please help me welcome, Author Kiera Kroft.
Okay dish, girlfriend. We need deets.

Did somebody call a fireman? What about a rugged, yet gentle and very good looking fireman? Anybody call one of those? His name is Jake Gilroy and he is about to change Corey Nolan’s life.

Determined to be out from under her mother’s ruling and away from a no-good soon-to-be ex-boyfriend, Corey Nolan exercises her independence. With a place to call her own and a job that doesn’t pay well but makes her happy, her life is full and her young daughter is content. There is no room for distractions, until she meets a local firefighter—who stirs an immediate forbidden attraction. In need of control, she tries to ignore Jake Gilroy, but circumstances bring her closer to him when someone is hell-bent on destroying her.


Dutiful playboy Jake is known as the smoking hot fireman. The first time he sets eyes on Corey, he knows he wants her. But when threats and strange occurrences start to happen, he finds the need to protect her and give more than he’s ever given any other woman.

Being together becomes more than they bargained for when their desire for each other becomes a matter of life and death….

How about an excerpt, Keira?

Jake slid his fingers down her arm and across her wrist. A spark lit through her. She gasped and her gaze locked with his. She made no attempt to draw away. Corey couldn’t…she didn’t want to.


“How is it?” He glanced at her scraped and bruised elbow.


Coming out of the trance, she lifted her arm and showed him the slight injury. “Oh, it’s fine.”


“I would have been over sooner, but the other guys got you, and I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

Corey couldn’t conjure up a response. What he said, and how he said it, turned her knees to jelly. She felt like the high school girl who was just noticed by the popular jock. She couldn’t stop staring at his soft, dark brown eyes, even though a sensible voice in her head told her to just walk away and forget him.


“I’m very sorry. But I really have to go.” She peeked around his massive chest to the men beyond. “It was so nice meeting you guys,” she called over, waving. She turned to pick up her bike, then pushed it along and hopped on.


“Stop by anytime,” she heard Jake yell behind her.


She smiled but didn’t turn around. Glancing at her watch, she’d realized she was supposed to have started her first day of work eight minutes ago. Fear made her pedal faster.


She hoped she hadn’t lost the job already. But what if she did? How would she pay rent? How would she feed Molly?


So where can we get it?
 

Glow in the Dark
 
Now tell us a little about yourself.
 
Keira Kroft has been and done many things in her life. She went to paramedic school and received a degree in vet assistance. She has also been a secretary and a bartender. Nothing seemed to fit except her insatiable lust for brooding “hotties”, romance, and the written word.



These days she can be found writing novels with the help of her furry friends, Scamper, and Sawyer. Sawyer helps by sitting on the keyboard while Scamper tries to steal Keira’s food. She spends the rest of her time helping her husband manage their two businesses, along with being the administrator for a website she started that aids new and unpublished authors.


For more on Keira’s hottie’s and the shenanigans of her whiskered assistants check out www.keirakroft.com or www.keirakroft66.blogspot.com


Read Fur a Cause


Just like the banner says I will give a portion of my proceeds from each and every copy, to the Animal Welfare League.

Thanks for Stopping by, Keira.

DL

Pins and Needles

Sitting on pins and needles today. The judges made their decision yesterday and I've yet to hear.


http://rwimagiccontests.wordpress.com/

Did Slipping the Past beat the competiton and take first in the RWI's More Than Magic contest?

Yes, I checked out the competition, and they're good--really good. Holding my breath and crossing my fingers. Slipping the Past is one of my favorite stories and I'd be thrilled to see it take first.
In honor of finaling, I'll post an excerpt.

Enjoy!

And may the best writer win.

Post Apocalyptic Child’s Jump-Rope Rhyme

A storm’s a coming, it hides the sun.

Here come the reapers,

Run child, run.

Jump once to save your life,

Two to save your soul,

Three to find some rest and four to stay whole.

Five they’re gonna get you,

Six you’ll get away

Seven is for your freedom and eight to live another day.

New Stratus City, NY 2059.

“Stuff this in your jacket.”

Jocelyn’s fingers closed before she realized what Nate crammed into her hand. She shoved the gun back at her brother. “I don’t want that and I’m not going in there to help you do whatever you’re planning to do with that thing.”

“Do you want to eat?”

“We can ask for spare change.”

“Too cold,” Nate said. “Nobody’s out tonight. I’m not planning anything violent, it’s backup. Besides, I don’t have any bullets.”

“Do you know what they’ll do to you if they catch you in possession of that?”

“They won’t.”

Jocelyn swallowed her words before she regretted them. Whatever she said, he’d do the opposite. Leave it to Nate to find the damn thing and hang onto it. She’d told him to leave it. Obviously he listened well.

When legislation made guns illegal to possess, many people dumped their collections for fear of losing their souls. The pistol’s carved grip seemed too fancy for the gun to be anything more than a display piece. It definitely hadn’t been used in a crime as she’d have known the moment she touched it.

She crossed her arms and shivered, pulling her hands back into the sleeves of her jacket. They’d lived on the streets for the last two months, ever since the last Enforcer discovered their location. Jocelyn never imagined it would come to this, hiding between garbage cans, trying to stay warm and alive while her brother committed armed robbery.

“Damn it, Nate. It’s not worth it. I’m not that hungry.” Her stomach contradicted her and rumbled so loud it sounded like an armored division moved down the block.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He was right, but she wasn’t about to admit it. Her stomach ached. Most of the credit they made in the last week went to purchase a seat on the solar train, where they could be warm. But that ride only went so far. Eventually security would catch them and insist it was one circuit per ticket. They always did. As for the food ... tomorrow the community kitchen would have hot chow. “I can wait.”

“You haven’t eaten real food in three days.” Nate sighed. “I promised Mom I’d take care of you. I don’t go back on my word.”

“She’s gone. She’ll never know. I’ll be okay.” A rush of dizziness hit and Jocelyn sank to her heels. Nate’s energy flared like a starburst.

“Nate--don’t.” The longer they were on the streets the more chances he took to keep her safe. The Enforcers were already after her. He didn’t need to become a fugitive too. If it weren’t for her, Nate would be home, sleeping in a real bed, not picking food out of the trash or committing crimes.

She should’ve left him before it came to this, but she worried about the trouble he’d get into on his own. At least this way she could try to keep him from doing something stupid. Which at the moment, she seemed to be failing at miserably.

“I’m going in there to take what we need. We can’t help being hungry,” he said

“Sit with me and stay warm. I’ll be fine.” She reached up and grabbed his hand.

“No.” He pulled away. “Stay here, out of sight.”

“Don’t go in there. Something doesn’t feel right.” That wasn’t a lie. Whatever triggered the unease gnawed at the corners of her consciousness. It was there, flashing danger alerts through her brain, waiting for an opportunity to strike and the last person she wanted to be a target, wouldn’t listen to her.

“I’ll be okay. I’m only going to nick some food and credit. Small stuff.” Nate tucked a loose strand of her hair into her hood. “I'll be right back. Nobody’s going to get hurt.” He turned. His boots crunched on the snow as he walked away, stringing her nerves tighter.

Jocelyn leaned against the brick. Idiot. What did he think he’d accomplish? He’d get her one meal and lose his soul over it. Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn. Why wouldn’t he listen? She’d be okay. She’d come out of worse situations than this.

“Nate.”

Bells jangled from across the street as he entered the store. Jocelyn’s stomach twisted into knots. Heat blew up from the grate where she sat on her heels, but it didn’t help the foreboding chill that blanketed her body. She raised her wrist to her mouth and chewed on her jacket’s frozen cuff.

“Be safe. Be safe. Be safe.” She rocked and focused. Nothing. Only that feeling as it grew stronger. “Get out, Nate,” she whispered, mentally reaching for him. No contact.

Nate, listen to me.

The wind whistled between the buildings, but nothing else.

“Damn.” She’d have to do it. She couldn’t let him take the chance. A distant vehicle alarm screeched, but Jocelyn ignored the sound and intensified her focus. This time she directed her push at the store clerk and a less resistant mind. “You won’t see a gun. You’re going to give him the credit as change for a purchase.”

“Come on.” She felt it, the moment she caught its attention. A chill slithered up her spine. Jocelyn bit her lip. A reaper approached. Huddled down by the trash, she should be unobserved, but he’d zero in if she jumped.

She wished she knew how close it was, but it didn’t matter. She’d no choice. There was one way to get Nate out and it meant helping him rob the store. One deep breath and she balled her fists. Energy bloomed around her and her spirit lifted from her body. She shot through the solid wall of the convenience store and rushed inside the clerk.

Using the clerk’s eyes, she studied her brother as he scrolled through digital postcards and waited for the customer at the counter to leave. She opened her mouth to warn him, but the customer before her spoke.

“I had it right here.”

She surveyed the counter and the man in front of her. He had a massive bottle of high-octane rum and a pile of empty credit chips. He rummaged through his pockets, picking out lint, a couple of pinched cigarette butts and a condom. Jocelyn tapped the counter. She glanced at her brother again and her stomach convulsed. No time for this.

“It’s in here somewhere.”

Another alarm wailed. Closer. Her heart jumped, triggering a slip of control, enough to lose her grip. Her energy broke free and lifted toward the ceiling. Not now. Jocelyn pushed, forcing reentry. Blood trickled from the clerk’s nose. She raised her arm and wiped it on his sleeve.

“That’s nasty. Why don’t you use a tissue,” said the man in front of her. Jocelyn shrugged, holding the sleeve to her nose. His lip curled and he took a step back, putting distance between them. “Do you have any idea how dangerous blood exposure is? I don’t want any disease you might have.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. Her mind drifted away from the man and to the window, where vehicle alarms wailed. From a block away, the street lights snapped off one at a time, sending the already dangerous neighborhood into feral darkness. No, please. Not now. One thing drew that much energy and it was charging up for a fight. She’d been right. They needed to leave.

Now.

“What’s out there?” The customer staggered away from the counter and toward the window. With his back to her, Jocelyn seized the moment, grabbed a handful of chips from the register and shoved them into a bag. Outside, more lights died. Closer. No, no, no. Just a little more time. Let me get him out of here.

Nate eyed the man at the window and stepped forward, setting a digital postcard on the counter. A feeling of weightlessness pulled at her and Jocelyn refocused, barely maintaining control. Thirty more seconds.

Static fuzzed across her vision. She shoved the bag across the counter as her brother slipped his hand into his pocket.

“You forgot your change.”

Nate glanced down at the bag and back up. His eyes widened. “Joce?”

“Run,” she croaked.

“Reaper!” The customer lurched away from the window, stumbling back. The lights in the store blinked off with an electric pop, dropping it into darkness. Outside, hundreds of vehicle alarms screeched. The customer raised his hands into the air. “I’m innocent.”

Jocelyn froze, unable to draw a breath. A man in dark silhouette stood on the sidewalk outside, a glowing globe in his hand and blue luminous eyes stared at her.

“Get back in your body and get out of here,” Nate said. “I’ll distract him.” He pulled the gun from his pocket. “He can only take one of us.”

“Put that away. You’re not sacrificing...” Her hair stood on end as the reaper pulled energy from the air. “Shit.” She recognized the sensation, something she’d felt only once before.

“Get down.” She reached over the counter and shoved on Nate’s shoulder. He ducked his head, covered up with his hands and fell to his knees. Jocelyn dropped behind the counter and stared at a baseball bat. Small chance that it would help, but it was nice to know she wasn’t defenseless. “Now he’ll take us both.”

“Reapers can only hold one soul at a time,” Nate snapped back from the other side of the counter.

“Do you think that’s going to stop him?” The window exploded. The fragments pelted Nate’s back and tinkled on the industrial linoleum like chimes. He rose to his feet, spun and lifted the gun, pointing it at the opening. “Now, Joce. Get out!”

“No. You’re not playing the hero.” Cold air poured into the store, fogging the interior. The air charged with static and her hair rose. Again. “Nate!”

The reaper sent another wave blasting through the storefront. Nate flew backward, slamming into a beer case, coming to rest on the floor in a heap. Her vision blurred. “Nate!”

Not now. Her control snapped. Jocelyn ripped free from the clerk and exploded through the wall. Her soul slammed back into her flesh like a runaway train, sending her glasses flying over the curb. She didn’t bother to retrieve them. She’d need them later, but not now. Now she needed to see. She sucked in a breath, opened her eyes and searched the shattered store front. Sharp pains pierced her skull like fragments of slivered metal.

The reaper stepped forward and peered in through the broken glass, soul-cell still in hand. No. Nate was right. He could only take one soul and she’d be damned it was Nate.

“Leave him alone!”

The reaper turned his head and his eyes locked onto her. “You,” a deep voice boomed. He stuffed the egg-sized globe in a pouch on his hip and strode toward her, eating distance between them. His long duster fluttered behind him, giving him the appearance of the mythical reapers, minus the sickle. Except there was nothing mythical about him. He was real and coming for her. “You’re under arrest for past crimes enforced under the Galactic Codex.”

Still disoriented from the jump, Jocelyn crab-crawled backward. She found her footing and scrambled to rise. That wasn’t one of her more brilliant moments. She’d felt him nearby and should have gotten out instead of going into the store. But she couldn’t leave Nate and he wouldn’t have left without the credit.

Did the reaper know she’d been inside the clerk and what they’d done? Had he seen the gun? The way he’d moved for her brother made her certain he had. She braced against the wall, her pulse raced and her mouth went dry. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“No, I haven’t.” The streetlight over her head snapped on, separating her form from the shadows. Jocelyn closed her eyes, unable to take the light. He closed in, drawing the staff off his back. It pulsed in an array of oranges and blues, lit from his energies.

Enforcers were identified from birth, their talents cultivated, their brains enhanced to increase the power of their gifts. Then from the age of five, the children were given Ki-staffs and taught to use them with lethal accuracy. One hit and she was done. Jocelyn knew she wasn’t going to escape, but Nate, she had to help him. She focused and jumped into her brother. His eyes were open and fuzzy. He rubbed the back of his head and stared at the fragmented window, trying to summon the strength to climb to his feet. She relaxed. If she could distract the reaper long enough, he could get away.

“Get back here.” The reaper seized her energy and yanked her back into her body.

“Please let me go. I’m not a criminal.”

“Says the fugitive with a warrant.” The streetlight overhead fragmented and showered down. “Look at me,” the reaper growled.

Jocelyn swallowed and complied. Her gaze drifted from his boots, up muscled thighs, up, up to a face cloaked in shadows. Who? Her knees began to quake. The energy radiating off him buzzed through her like a live wire. The muscles in her body locked and her breath caught. Something about him.

“I’m innocent,” Jocelyn spluttered.

“Innocent people don’t have warrants.” He stepped closer and tossed a cube on the ground.

A holographic image of the document floated before her. She stared through it and at him. Jocelyn sucked in a breath. No. She’d heard he’d recently relocated from off-world. “Gabriel Solaris.”

“Jocelyn Miller.”

“You have to believe me. I’m innocent.”

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“Please, listen to me.”

“In 1670, you murdered a family in their sleep.”

“No.”

“It was your soul.”

“How can you be certain?” Keep him talking.

“Your warrant.”

Yeah, that. Jocelyn shook her head and pushed against the wall, trying to free herself from his energy lock. She carried the warrant from birth to adulthood and started running from the day she turned eighteen because of it. “I didn’t do it, I could never kill anyone.”

The blue flame in the reaper’s eyes intensified. “In 1860 you murdered your husband and cut him into pieces, feeding his body to swine. They caught you fleeing with your lover across Confederate lines and hung you both.”

No. She couldn’t have done that. A paper-cut made her ill. “You’ve definitely got the wrong girl.”

The look on his face said he wasn’t buying it. Jocelyn bit her lip and held his gaze. Please see I’m sincere.

A face superimposed Gabriel’s. She blinked. The heat in her belly moved lower and made it impossible to catch her breath.

His mouth became harder and the image of the other man vanished. “There’s more. Do you want me to list everything or are you done delaying the inevitable?”

“No. Please let me go. I won’t--didn’t do anything like that. I’m a good person.”

“You can’t fight who you are.”

“That isn’t who I am.”

He took another step and she swallowed and shook her head. Waves of his aura washed over her. God, he was beautiful. Beautiful and familiar. “I couldn’t have done those things.”

She studied him, feeling as though it wasn’t the first time she’d looked upon him. His shoulders had to be at least twice the width of her brother’s. Aside from the obvious black hair, strong jaw and straight, sharp nose that bespoke his Roman ancestry, she knew the color of his eyes behind the blue glow, and that he had a scar on his hip. She knew his smile would stop her heart and his touch would send her into orbit. They were linked. Oh God. She swallowed.

“It’s you. You may not remember in that body but you’re marked by your deeds. Your energy leaves a trail. Even your eyes don’t lie.”

“You’re wrong.” She didn’t remember the crimes, but him, she knew him.

“Am I? In 1102, soldiers raped you and your sister, removing your eyes with a hot poker to keep you from identifying them.” He stared. “You later poisoned them. The only crime deemed self-defense. Forgiven.”

She studied his boots, unable to take that knowing gaze. Jocelyn never knew the reason for her light blindness, but what he said felt like the truth. She shivered. Her diabetes? No. The doctors couldn’t diagnose why the lenses in her eyes remained open. Her eyes were healthy and she wasn’t completely blind, only in the light. Even then, she wasn’t without sight. In the day she traveled using the crowds, hiding behind solid glasses, jumping from body to body on the street, viewing the world from the sight of others.

The reason she lived in the city.

“I’m never wrong.” He stepped forward and put his staff under her chin to raise her gaze to his. More of his energy zipped through her body, warming her in a strange way. Liquid heat pooled between her thighs, soaking her panties. Not fear. Not the reaction she’d expected. She inhaled his scent and another flush of heat moved through her.

“You’ve jumped for the last time. Your crimes are documented and you’ve been tracked.”

Jocelyn heart thumped. Not when I’ve just found you.

He lowered the staff and leaned in until a cloud of his breath brushed her cheek. His hand came up and touched her jaw, sending jolts racing through her. The pad of his thumb stroked her cheek and made it hard to catch her breath. The image of another man with amber eyes danced across her vision.

Don’t leave me. I can’t live without you.

“I know you,” the reaper said, drawing his brows together. His hand moved from her face and toyed with her hair, letting the strands slip through his fingers. “Like blood, but darker. It’s always been red, except that one time.” He lifted it and sniffed. “Smells like sanitizer.”

“Bathroom soap dispensers will do that.” She gave a nervous laugh as her heart threatened to explode in her chest. The closer he got the faster it beat and the more she wanted to touch him. No--not wanted--needed. Jocelyn curled her fingers, resisting the urge. What was wrong with her?

She felt a tug on her energy. Her aura mingled with his and warmed. Deep pinks swirled into his blues and oranges. The blue light in his eyes faded and revealed the true color. They were--“like honey in candlelight.”

“What?” he said.

“Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. Everything came into focus. He was right about knowing her. They’d been linked for more than one lifetime and would continue to be if he didn’t imprison her for the past crimes.

He tucked his staff away, studying her face, keeping eye contact. “You’re a criminal.” The tone of his voice said he wasn’t convinced. Perhaps she had a chance?

“That isn’t who I am.”

“Then who are you, Jocelyn Miller?”

“I...” She stared into his eyes, sinking into the depths. “I’m innocent. Give me a chance to prove it.” She knew in her heart the truth. She was no more a killer than her brother. A single tear trickled down her cheek. “Please.”

He was also wrong about one other thing. It was more than knowing. Reaching up with a shaky hand she touched his jaw. The prickly growth of a day’s worth of whiskers grazed the pads of her fingers. Much more.

“I loved you once,” Jocelyn said.

He captured her hand and held it against his face, staring back. Before she could blink, he leaned in and grazed her lips with his. Sparks of energy whirled around them. Jocelyn sighed against the light kiss, wanting more, needing more.

Gabriel slid the fingers of one hand into her hair and captured her mouth to intensify the kiss. The breath sucked from her lungs and her knees gave.

He released her hand and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight to his body while his lips devoured her every sane thought. No. It couldn’t be.

She still loved him.

He released her from the wall and backed away. “I’ll give you a week.”

That kiss had been more than a kiss. Did he know? Did he feel their connection? “You’re letting me go?”

He shook his head and frowned. “No, I’m delaying the inevitable. Damned if I know why.” As the last word left his lips, Gabriel disappeared, teleporting away to who knew where.

Jocelyn screamed. “Nate, no.” She threw her arm up to block the bat headed for her head.

He stopped the swing of the Louisville Slugger inches from her face and lowered it. “What? Where’d he go?”

She slid down the wall to her butt, no longer able to stand, some from shock, most from the kiss sapping her strength and turning her into a noodle. “He’s giving me a chance to prove my innocence.”

“Reapers don’t let their quarry go, Jocelyn.” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “Did I see right? Did you kiss that reaper?”

She nodded.

“Have you lost your freaking mind?”

“It appears I have.” Jocelyn began to giggle as all the stress from the confrontation dropped on her.

The lights on the solar-lamps popped on and she slammed her eyes shut, covering them with her hand. “My glasses.”

Nate stuffed them into her hand. She slipped them on and jumped into Nate, glancing around the street. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance. “We need to leave.”

“I think I’ll keep this.” He hefted the bat over his shoulder. “You never know when one of these will come in handy.”

“Handy? You almost brained me. More like dangerous.”

“Speaking of dangerous--you’re getting stronger, Joce. I’ve never seen you jump like that, not as you did with the clerk. You controlled him.” Nate glanced both ways and rushed her down the street.

“Desperation. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

Jocelyn nodded. “I know. But I’d be alone without you. You’re all I’ve got.”

Or was he? Gabriel. He’d done something to her. She felt normal. The dizziness disappeared with him. Even more amazing, she wasn’t exhausted from the jump. Whenever she traveled for more than visual leaps, it left her without energy or strength to do little more than sleep. “I think the reaper did something to me.”

Nate stiffened under her hand. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, not that. I think he took my diabetes.”

“You can’t take a disease away.” Nate ducked into an alley and pulled her in with him, pressing back against the wall as squad transporters raced by.

“I think he did.”

“Whatever that reaper did, he didn’t do it for you. They never do anything for their target’s benefit.” Nate grasped her under the chin. Look at yourself, you don’t look any different.”

Jocelyn pushed his hand away. “I don’t need to look at myself. I feel it.”