even though twenty-eight city blocks separated us.
It might as well have been twenty-eight states.
After too many minutes to be healthy for me, I hung up.
May was a great time for night walks in New York. It wasn’t too hot, nor was it so cold as to need layers. I wore Dominick’s leather jacket over my white V-neck shirt and jeans as I traversed the path from my apartment to the only destination my feet seemed willing to go.
In spite of the late hour, the streets teemed with life. The city was awake and alive, ready to drink in as much spring as it could before the seasons shifted and summer swelled up, bloated and stinky with offensive heat.
I wove through the crowds, barely conscious of my own movements. In SoHo a new tattoo studio was still open, and a guy smoking on the front steps offered me a nod as I passed. I smiled, but not too much, and kept walking. I moved past the council headquarters without so much as a second glance, and walked until my feet hit the familiar tile lobby of an apartment building I hadn’t seen in quite some time.
I took the stairs slowly, head down, until I reached the appropriate floor, and once I was outside the door I shook off the stupor that had cloaked me the whole way here. I stared at the green door with its peeling paint, and my heart began to hammer. For a second I thought about turning around and going back home.
But what was waiting for me at home? An empty apartment. A cat that missed a man almost as much as I did.
I raised my hand, and after a heartbeat of debate, I rapped on the door.
A moment later it swung open, and I offered a weak smile to the dark-haired owner of the suite. “I know it’s late…”
“It’s fine.” He gave me a confused look. “What’s up?”
I glanced past him, into the wide-open loft, then I met his gaze and held it for a long time. Long enough it took on more meaning than I meant it to. Finally I said, “I’ve come to make good on a promise.”
Holden stared at me, his eyes widening only slightly. Then he stepped out of the doorway and let me in.
About the Author
Sierra Dean is a reformed historian. She was born and raised in the Canadian prairies and is allowed annual exit visas in order to continue her quest of steadily conquering the world one city at a time. Making the best of the cold Canadian winters, Sierra indulges in her less global interests: drinking too much tea and writing urban fantasy.
Ever since she was a young girl she has loved the idea of the supernatural coexisting with the mundane. As an adult, however, the idea evolved from the notion of fairies in flower beds, to imagining that the rugged-looking guy at the garage might secretly be a werewolf. She has used her overactive imagination to create her own version of the world, where vampire, werewolves, fairies, gods and monsters all walk among us, and she’ll continue to travel as much as possible until she finds it for real.
Sierra can be reached all over the place, as she’s a little addicted to social networking. Find her on:
Facebook: www.facebook.com/sierradeanbooks
Website:www.sierradean.com
E-mail: [email protected]
Twitter: @sierradean
Look for these titles by Sierra Dean
Now Available:
Secret McQueen
Something Secret This Way Comes
The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
A Bloody Good Secret
Secret Santa
Deep Dark Secret
Are blind dates supposed to be this bloody?
The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters
© 2011 Sierra Dean
A Secret McQueen Story
They say it’s impossible to find a man in New York City. Secret McQueen needs to find two in one night. Of course, it’ll mean pulling off the impossible—find and kill a displaced rogue vampire without disrupting the first promising date she’s had in ages. As a werewolf hybrid used to walking a fine line of survival in the vampire world, though, Secret eats impossible for breakfast.
Somewhere between hello and the first round of drinks, Secret makes her move. Her target, Hollywood’s biggest star, shouldn’t be hard to spot. Just look for swarms of fans. Except every time her vampire liaison, Holden, helps keep her mission on track, her date runs further off the rails.
Either Holden has a hidden agenda, or he knows more than he’s letting on about her quarry. One way or another, Secret is determined to get her man, and meet Mr. Right. Or die trying.
Warning: This book contains a sword-wielding assassin whose barbs are