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MARKED
Book One
Release Date: April 27, 2010
ISBN: 978-0-505-52822-3
THERON – Dark haired, duty bound and deceptively deadly. He’s the leader of the Argonauts, an elite group of guardians that defends the immortal realm from threats of the Underworld.
From the moment he walked into the club, Casey knew this guy was different. Men like that just didn’t exist in real life—silky shoulder-length hair, chest impossibly broad, and a predatory manner that just screamed dark and dangerous. He was looking for something. Her.
She was the one. She had the mark. Casey had to die so his kind could live, and it was Theron’s duty to bring her in. But even as a 200-year-old descendent of Hercules, he wasn’t strong enough to resist the pull in her fathomless eyes, to tear himself away from the heat of her body.
As war with the Underworld nears, someone will have to make the ultimate sacrifice.
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Excerpted from MARKED:
Casey leaned back in her chair and narrowed her gaze,
trying to look at him objectively and not as the sex symbol
she’d been fantasizing about earlier. “You know, I’m
starting to think something about you just isn’t right.
What did happen to you? Someone attacked you in that
parking lot, didn’t they? You weren’t hit by a car. No matter
how many times I’ve tried to tell myself that’s all that
happened, I know it’s not. I think it’s about time you were
honest with me.”
Theron clasped her arm on the table before she even saw
him move, turned her palm up, slid his fingers down the
center of her hand and hooked his pinky around her
thumb, pinning her hand with ease. Slowly, he circled his
index finger over the center of her palm, down to the heel
of her hand, lower, until electricity burned along her
wrist. Sparks shot straight to her spine and a warm, almost
liquid sensation rushed through her entire body.
Her breathing slowed. The pupils of his eyes grew until she found herself staring into pools of obsidian dark as
night. And suddenly she had trouble remembering just
what it was she’d gotten so worked up over only a moment
before. Though she knew there was something.
Some reason. Hanging on the edge of her subconscious.
Why couldn’t she reach it?
But the thought was overridden by the way he
was touching her. So . . . sinfully delicious and . . . oddly
peaceful.
“Listen carefully,” he said slowly. “I was walking
across the parking lot when you turned the corner in
your car. It was dark. You were tired. You didn’t see me
until it was too late. Your car hit me. You brought me here
because you were worried about me and felt guilty. I’m
not familiar with American hospitals and didn’t want to
go to one if I didn’t have to. You helped me heal. You did
a good thing.”
Yeah, that had to be the way it happened. Casey’s heart
rate slowed as she relaxed further into his gentle caress.
He had the softest fingers. His hands were warm and
tantalizing. She couldn’t help but imagine those strokes
running over her shoulders, down to her abdomen and
finally up to her breasts.
“You want to continue to help me,” he said in an even
softer voice. One that sounded like velvet and sandpaper
all at the same time and ignited a rush of hormones deep
in her body. “Anything I need.”
Of course she needed to help him. His injuries had
been her fault. But . . . anything? Her cheeks warmed. Visions
of his naked body laid out like an offering on her
white comforter rushed through her mind again.
And that’s when she saw the wicked smile curling one
side of his mouth, almost as if he could read her thoughts.
“Yes, meli,” he whispered. “Anything I want, you will do
for me.”
Heat snaked through her abdomen, dripped lower until
she felt the unmistakable wetness of her arousal. And then he broke the contact with her hand as quickly as
he’d grasped it.
She blinked several times. Felt oddly lightheaded.
Though he went back to his meal, her skin tingled as if he
were still caressing her wrist. And something unfurled
inside her then, some hidden part of her that had been
waiting. Waiting for . . . this moment her whole life.
“Your soup is getting cold, meli,”
Casey tore her gaze from his rugged good looks and
glanced down at her bowl. Riiiiight. Dinner. That’s what
she was supposed to be focusing on. Not on him and
some strange feeling that didn’t make a lick of sense.
Slowly, because her hand was trembling, she lifted her
spoon and took a small bite. But didn’t taste a thing. Because
what she suddenly wanted on her tongue wouldn’t
come close to fitting on a spoon.
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