Faerie Godmother: Mythic Series, Book 1 (17 page)

“Thanks for inviting us.”

* * *

V
lane nodded. Ana laughed at something Karthik, the demon lord said, playfully swatting his arm.
Only Ana could get away with doing something like that to the vicious demon
, Vlane thought. Then again, he had yet to come across a male of any species who was immune to his bride’s Fae charms.

“You are a better male than I, vampire,” Matt said, watching the scene. “If I were in your place, I don’t know that I’d let my female dance with the likes of him. Or you, for that matter.”

Vlane laughed. “If you were in my place, wolf, you would know my bride can take care of herself, as well as the true peace that comes with finding the other half of your soul.”

At that moment, Ana turned and spied Vlane. Her entire face lit up at the sight of him. As Armand grabbed her and spun her around to dance, Vlane turned back to Matt. “It is truly a gift I wish for all men.”

Vlane left Matt when Derrick and a few others headed in their direction.

“Did you really mean that?” Ana said, surprising him by coming up beside him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Mean what?” he asked, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. Chaste as it was, Vlane embellished it with promises of what was to come the moment they were alone. It couldn’t come soon enough for him, but he reminded himself that they had an eternity in front of them. It was a happy thought.

“That you wish every other male here would find their soul mate?”

“How did you—?”

She grinned. “Vampire hearing, remember? Compliments of my husband — the biggest, baddest vampire of them all.”

He laughed and pulled her tightly against him. “Yes, my love. I did mean it. Why?”

“Because,” she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “we can make that happen...”

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ou didn’t have to pick this book, but you did. Thank you!

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... t
hen check out this excerpt from the next book in the Mythic series,
Fallen Angel
...

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A
short while later, scrubbed clean and dressed in acceptable human attire, Ryssa worked her way through the woods that separated the bad part of town from the good on tired, aching feet. Wealth was not necessarily a good thing, in her opinion. Oh, there were benefits, of course, she thought as she took in the huge, imposing manor house. Money could get you a warm, dry place to live. It could pay for good food and cover your back with some nice clothes. Help others in need, if you were the charitable sort. But this place was more than meeting basic needs. This place was over the top.

You couldn’t even call it a house, not by any stretch of the imagination. A mansion, maybe. Small castle, more like. How many people actually lived here?  The place was bigger than three of the run-down tenement buildings she called home put together. And what was
that
behind the manicured topiaries?  A freaking tennis court?

She winced as a bright motion-sensor floodlight blazed in her face. What the hell was it with people and these damn floodlights these days?  If God had intended light to be a twenty-four hour thing, he wouldn’t have bothered with the moon and the stars.

It forced her to focus, though. She’d been so busy gap-jawing at the sheer size of the place that she hadn’t been paying much attention. Good thing they were just floodlights and not bloodthirsty Dobermans or she’d be dog food by now. She might not be able to die, but she could hurt a hell of a lot in the time it took to heal.

Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. From far away, soft chimes sounded the notes of some classical masterpiece. Bach, she thought idly, going back to an eon ago and a universe away. Now there was a guy who knew how to party, she thought with a quirk to her lips.

It was the middle of the night. Whoever was behind the door was probably long since in bed and wouldn’t be happy to be disturbed, but it was what it was. They summoned her, not the other way around. They would have to work with her timeline. Besides, a place this big probably had a slew of servants around the clock who got paid to answer the door at all kinds of ungodly hours.

Ryssa was forced to adjust that preconceived notion a moment later. The guy who opened the door was no servant.

The scent of expensive men’s soap hit her first. She looked at the wall of the muscled male chest in front of her, tightly wrapped in a high-quality designer shirt. A shiver ran down the length of her spine.

Lifting her gaze, she found cold green eyes looking down on her with absolute derision. Those eyes travelled down the length of her petite body over the span of several heartbeats, taking in her threadbare jeans, ratty sneakers, and plain black cotton T.

“No solicitors.”

The man’s upper lip actually curled when he said it. Without the snarl, she might have considered him handsome. His features were classically male and well-proportioned. Dark auburn hair cut close at the nape, and deep, penetrating green eyes that might have sparkled under different circumstances.

Ryssa stuck her tiny foot in the door as he tried to close it on her, grunting softly when the heavy weight of the hand-carved oak hit the side of her arch. He looked down as if he couldn’t believe she’d done that, then shot her an angry look. Figuring he was about a breath away from shoving her back she said, “I’m Ryssa.”

He stilled, his gaze growing even colder, if that was possible. She withheld the urge to shiver again. The ice in his human eyes made Marcella seem warm in comparison.

“Ryssa.” He repeated the name, but made no move to invite her in or push her away. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

For a moment, Ryssa had her doubts. Maybe Marcella had been mistaken. Maybe this wasn’t the right place after all, though it would have been hard to mistake this house for any other. Her weight shifted from one foot to the other as she pulled the thin jacket tighter around her in the chill of the night.

“My friend said a woman was asking for me.”

Those perfectly cold, clear, green eyes narrowed on her. “Your friend?  Who is your friend?”

No way was Ryssa going to tell him about Marcella. Wealthy types like him didn’t typically buy into the supernatural. Money, power, prestige – that’s what they understood. Not that any of that truly mattered in the grand scheme of things, but it sure as hell wasn’t Ryssa’s job to enlighten him. 

Tired, cranky, and slightly unnerved by the power of his gaze, she opted for the direct approach. “Is someone here dying?”

He winced at that, the only crack in his icy façade. Behind the frosty exterior, she could sense his pain. It was the only reason she didn’t knee him in his manly bits and beat feet out of there. People handled grief in different ways; maybe his was just by being a condescending asshole.

He stared at her like she was some kind of cockroach heading towards the caviar.

“Look,” she said, reaching for her patience. “She called, I came. That’s how it works. Let me in or release me from the summons.”

Avoiding the cold steel of his glare, she looked up at the position of the moon. At most, she had about an hour and a half before she had to turn and go back. Even cutting through the woods it was a long walk and she was beyond tired, having worked nearly a full shift at the
Seven Circles
before coming here.

Still he made no move one way or the other. “Dude, come on. I’m on a schedule here.”

His scowl deepened and his fists clenched, but she stood her ground. He might think he was big and bad, but he had no idea what was out there, the ones she dealt with on a regular basis. There were a very limited number of beings who could intimidate her, and they were a whole lot bigger and badder than this GQ jack-off.

Just when she was sure he was going to push her back and slam the door in her face, he stepped back abruptly and opened it instead.

“Follow me. And don’t touch anything.”

––––––––

L
ook for
Fallen Angel
, releasing August 15
^th
, 2016 or reserve your copy now:

US:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01GYVZ7EW

UK:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01GYVZ7EW

DE:
https://www.amazon.de/dp/B01GYVZ7EW

CA: 
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01GYVZ7EW

AU:
https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B01GYVZ7EW

A
bbie Zanders loves to read and write romance in all forms; she is quite obsessive, really. Her ultimate fantasy is to spend all of her free time doing both, preferably in a secluded mountain cabin overlooking a pristine lake, though a private beach on a lush tropical island works, too. Sharing her work with others of similar mind is a dream come true. She promises her readers two things: no cliffhangers, and there will always be a happy ending. Beyond that, you never know...

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