Weather Report

If you’ve read any of my Sleepy Hollow series of 1Night Stand stories – Lightning, Thunder, Frost, Heat Wave, In from the Cold – you know I love those kinds of titles. (There’s also Blizzard, but that’s a story for The Edge, not a 1Night Stand.) I’m currently titling my latest work-in-progress, a story for Decadent’s Beyond Fairtytales line…Rain. At least until an editor tells me, “but, but, but…that would be so wrong.”

Anyway. I kind of like my heroes HOT and generally brooding or damaged to some extent, so I have to kind of gauge what their temperature is and whether it’s all dark and stormy or what. Max Raines of Frost was a fire-sex demon, with a tendency to incinerate his partners. His cousin, Bhyrne Raines of Heat Wave, was going through a demon mating frenzy called breedspawn, which tends to make males demons, um, sweat.

And then along came Spook. I personally adore Spook. He’s Max’s cousin. He’s Bhyrne’s long lost twin. He didn’t know he had a family in Sleepy Hollow and he didn’t know he was a demon. All he knew was he burnt out and tired, very, very tired. (Kind of like me, only Spook’s tired of being a spy.) You know, kind of like the CIA’s Peter Quinn in Homeland. Or the British spook created by John Le Carre in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold. Richard Burton played him. (Tiredly)

 See? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmmWkJtuxz4

Tired.

And after that popped into my head, so did the title. And the weather report. And a way to sort of wrap up some Sleepy Hollow loose ends. At least for the time being.

Give me YOUR weather report in a comment below, and be eligible to have Spook (he’s so HOT) visit your very own reading device.

In from the Cold excerpt:

Geneviève Mortimer crept down the quiet hotel hallway, careful to bank her glow…at least for the moment. She’d sensed the presence of a demon on the floor, but something seemed off about the male’s aura. A weird lack of evil, like an impenetrable force field surrounded his consciousness, his psyche. As if he thought he were…human.

Had he been brainwashed? Drugged? Raised by gypsies? By wolves? Wait. No. Scratch that last one. She didn’t get the werevibe at all with this one.

No matter, as a will o’the wisp and a POLO, Protector of the Legion of Shadows, tasked with watching over humankind and keeping the unwary safe from visitors from the demon realms to the human plane, she lured the black-souled to their demise. Going all shine-a-light and sparkly until the evil ones fell under her spell and followed her anywhere. She needed to find this guy. Pounce first, beam a little hypnotic wattage, ask questions later. Take him out before he did any harm. To humans, or innocents like her parents.
She sniffed. Getting warmer. Closer to the demon’s room. What would she find behind his door?

Ignoring the do not disturb sign, she jiggled the handle. Locked. But the absence of a key card wouldn’t be a problem for her, not with her brand of talent and the magick lock picks in her pocket. She got the door open in seconds and slinked into the room, masking her radiance, keeping to the shadows.

Holy shit. The scent of male arousal filled the air. Delicious, decadent, sublime. Total man candy, like nothing she’d ever smelled before. Calling to her sweet tooth. Her horny core. So intense, an ache blossomed between her legs. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Whoa. She could orgasm from the erotic scent of the guy alone. Was the dude going through breedspawn? Were all the rumors she’d heard of the full-on crazy, demon male mating phase more than myth? She’d sure never encountered anything as powerfully sexy as this.

Cripes. This sort of thing never happened to her. I’m a demon hunter, damn it. She remained professional always, despite her ditzy, scatterbrained reputation. Did her job. And did it well. She’d fooled even her closest friends, those who didn’t know about her role as a POLOS and didn’t guess the half of it. Those who thought she slut-flitted around the world searching for mischief, adventure and, most of all, pleasure, like some sort of fickle, commitment-shy, well, yeah sure, okay, will o’the wisp.

Taryn
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