Keeping Secret (Secret McQueen) - By Sierra Dean Page 0,104
Rhys pursue their enemies into the southlands, where they discover an odd plague ravaging southern clans as it travels north, to Erania. Determined to survive, Lourdes will discover whether she’s worth her silk or if she’s spun the thread by which her clan will hang.
Warning: This book contains one mercenary hero with a biting fetish, one determined heroine who gets nibbled, and an answer to the age-old question, “What does dragon taste like?” Matricide and sibling rivalry are available upon request. The house special is revenge, best served cold.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Hint of Frost:
“Is that what I am? Do you look at me and see a flesh-eater whose hungers rule him?”
I recoiled from his touch and his temper. “I don’t know what I see, Rhys. You confuse me. You’re not what I expected. You’re more, better, and it makes me want more and better from you.” I gained a pitiful bit of distance. “Your brother taunts us both with a secret you’re unwilling to share, yet you hope my opinion remains unaltered? How can it? It’s impossible.”
“Lourdes…” His voice broke.
“No, you asked. You keep asking. Let me have my say.” My feet found strength on the riverbed, and I stood tall. “I don’t understand you, but I’m fonder of you than is wise. I can’t abide not knowing where we stand. If nothing else, tell me that. Tell me who Mana is to you.”
His harsh lips curved into a beatific smile I had no defense against. “You’re jealous.”
Had he heard nothing I’d said? Of course I was. “She’s something to you. What is she?”
Instead of answering, he waded to where I stood. Trembling with anger, I forced my knees steady as he palmed the base of my neck and dragged me toe to toe with him. Rhys towered over me, his smile shining like the sun’s rays upon my face, and my treacherous heart flip-flopped.
“You are jealous.” Wonderment filled his voice. “You care for me.”
“I’ve said as much.” Either he wasn’t listening, or what I said wasn’t sinking through his thick skull. I’d given him words. I wanted some in return. “I question your affection, not mine.”
His eyebrows slanted as a look of utter confusion crossed his features. Growling, I hooked my leg around the bend of his knees and shoved against his chest. I lost hair in his fall, but the shock on his face was worth the pain. I stood there, pleased with myself one second and then gasping the next as he dragged me under. Beneath the cool water, his mouth found its way to mine and his lips moved across them. I’m yours. I understood him as clear as if he’d spoken in my ear.
Peace suffused my limbs and tingled in the smile I could no longer hide. He was mine.
Dumbstruck by his trick, I think I would have floated blissful and unaware as I drowned beneath the pleasure of his vow. He was the one with sense enough to realize we’d both lost our air and dragged us choking to the surface. Spluttered laughter poured from me as he patted my back.
“Maven Lourdes?” The sharp, feminine gasp killed my hysteria. “Are you well?” Mana stood on the shore with stacked clothes balanced on one arm and supplies hung from the other.
Rhys pressed down on my shoulders until water rushed around my throat. “She is well.” He gave her a small smile, a fraction of the one he’d given me, and yet I found myself envious.
“Oh.” Her gaze averted. “Then I will leave your supplies by the water’s edge.”
Until he frowned down at me, I hadn’t realized my nails bit into his arm. I’d seen ursus in heat respond better to encroaching females than I did. He was mine. He’d said so.
“He’s mine.” Gods above, had I spoken aloud? Judging by Mana’s broad grin and Rhys’s patient sigh, I had.
“Yes, Maven.” Mana laughed. “He is yours. He told me as much himself.”
“I’m glad I amuse you.” I was acting out, yet I blamed her for my foul temper. Far easier for me to point the finger than accept some animal part of me wanted Rhys bathed in my scent so other females knew where he belonged—at my side—always. Until our life threads joined, such marking was ill-advised, but the need roared through me. Desire was a pale word for what I felt.
“I meant no disrespect.” Her face drained of amusement. “I apologize for my rudeness.”