Derrick, a former spy, has been asked to protect the sultry Sonja, a death metal singer whose magical voice grabs him by the balls and won’t let go. He’ll protect her, all right…with every part of his body tight against hers.
Sonja uses her voice to purge her fans of their darkness, their hate and hopelessness. But evil forces want to use her magic for their own ends. All she wants, at this point, is safety for herself and her band.
When Derrick and Sonja team up, Sonja does her best to resist the lure of safety he represents, until a radical league that wants her dead propels her into his arms. Will his help be enough? Or will she lose her heart to him, only to be killed in the process of saving the world?
Targeted Age Group:: 28-65
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
I have a fascination with the shifter community and am a diehard Burn Notice fan. I had been watching the series with my ex when it was new and got to thinking about the characters and that whole “what if” game writers tend to play. I thought Michael Westen was a great character with plenty of complexity, but I needed to pull something from my own knowledge base into the novel, hence the death metal singing witch.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I pulled parts of Michael Westen from Burn Notice into Derrick, and combined him with a buddy of mine who makes high end luxury cigars. Then I started letting him tell the story. It turns out, he was nothing like iether one of them.
“How do you know my brother?”
“Friends from school.” Derrick leaned back while not breaking the physical contact.
A brow quirked. “I see. Funny, he never mentioned you.”
“Yeah, we lost touch after graduation. I had a thing overseas. Real hush-hush.” Half-truth.
Sonja stretched her other leg out from beneath her and shifted in her seat, giving Derrick a fabulous view of her contours.
Instantly, he wondered why she was practically nude after the show. “Are you that hot and sweaty up there on stage?”
She rolled her shoulders and shook out her hands. “A little, yes. But the problem I have is that not only do I pick up the feelings, they mold to my clothing. Especially with the previous band pushing a message of hatred, I picked up a lot of negative rage. When I came back here, I stripped off the clothes.”
He licked his lips. “So your underwear doesn’t pick things up? I’m very much enjoying the physical contact.”
She smirked. “All clothing I wear picks up some semblance of emotion, it’s part of my nature. But I’m not a slut. And that clothing is hot. I mean, we wear all black.”
He chuckled. “I’d never think that of you. I can only imagine what it’s like to be in the limelight and need the break. And I’ll mention again, I’m certainly enjoying the view.”
Sonja flipped her hair off to one side, showing the pale curve of her neck. “I figured you would. I sort of sought you out.” A light blush crept up her cheeks.
“Oh?” He cocked a brow. If she knew his purpose, she hadn’t let on yet. “Why?”
She leaned forward, giving him an even better view of ample cleavage. “I don’t know. You felt…safe.” She closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and made a popping sound before returning her focus on him.
“Honey, I’m anything but.” He let his voice drop, watching her expression slowly change.
The deep-blue shade of her eyes intensified, the silver irises appeared to swirl. Energy poured out from her so fast that it slammed into Derrick like a freight train.
Memories, screams, visceral images all bombarded him. The instant message his mind received had only one thing: bleak blackness so heavy, so dark it made the winter night sky look like the middle of a sunny summer day.
He slid off the couch, stumbled back. Hands at his sides, he tried to brace himself for the next wave but it hit him too fast. Nausea settled in his stomach and all of those Manhattans he’d drunk earlier threatened to come up, bringing bile with them.
The sensation dizzied him, brought him to his knees.
All the agony he kept buried and all the trepidation the puma had about killing—even though nature said otherwise—made him howl out. He opened his eyes and saw the sight of himself being forced to burn a village because some government jackass was breathing orders to eliminate the warlords of that village by whatever means necessary down his neck.
That meant force. A lot of force because the villagers had been trained in guerilla warfare and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the foreign shifter menace.
Derrick had no idea what was waiting for him or his brother once they arrived.
Max hadn’t slept any more soundly than Derrick since their return, and Derrick left that mission in the past with all the other ghosts that haunted him.
Or at least he thought he’d buried the dead. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. Not even a puma cry.
Just then, soft arms surrounded him and forced him back to reality. Sonja held him to her, whispering sweet words while the energy pulled back from him. “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. Relax, please. Calm down, babe. Let me help you.” Her hand caressed the small of his back, ran up his spine. Fingers crept on his neck, teasing little hairs to attention along with other things.
He shook with a fear so dark it threatened to pull him over the edge into a bottomless abyss. Behind tightly closed eyes, he saw his puma standing at the edge of that cliff, overlooking the canyon while the hordes of victims he’d mindlessly executed with the click of a button slowly slipped away.
Derrick shook his head.
Sweet sounds of feminine laughter fluttered over his ears like the day’s fresh breeze.
The puma shook its muzzle, and Derrick saw creamy flesh eager for tasting.
He lifted his head, met her heated gaze, and pressed his lips to hers. Unthinking, his mind went on autopilot and led his body into hers. The energy around them charged with a different heat, one filled with promises of lust and darker, sensual fun.
Just the briefest of touches against her lips threatened to steal his control. Was this her magic or the pure attraction the two obviously shared?
Hands gripped his shoulders, nails dug into his flesh.
Derrick caught her arms, caressed them. Felt waning strength in them and vowed to support her if she felt even an ounce of the heat between them that he did.
Soft, full lips kissed him, parted for his tongue, curled upward in a smile when he swept his tongue over her bottom lip. Fingers tangled in his hair, in hers, too, caressing her while he ate at her mouth, then pulled back, met her fierce stare, saw the power in those eyes.
Knew she’d play with his beast.
The puma in him wagged its tail.
The second round was all Sonja, all control, all feminine power. Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers locked behind his head while she moved him how she wanted him. Her body pressed into his, making the kiss a full-on affair, rather than the chaste kiss he’d given her earlier.
Then she pulled back and he swore he heard a growl that didn’t come from him.
Low, the sound vibrated and made him even more eager to taste her. But he remembered her earlier, trembling and afraid in the corner of the couch, curled up in a ball. So he did the sweet thing, shut his libido down, and took his cue from the rational thinking part of his brain that still had some blood flow.
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