By Ari Thatcher
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Additional resources for Demon of Desire (Whispering Valley, Book One)
He put the head back into the wood-wool and carefully set it aside. After shifting some packing paper, he pulled out a manila envelope which he opened. “Here we are. Contents: one Jivaro Indian tsanta, circa 1900. I think that’s your shrunken head. One XXV Dynasty Canopic jar. Three mummified fingers, origin unknown. ” He set down the paper, dug through the box and lifted out an Egyptian container with a sculpted dog’s head lid. Opening the jar, he peered inside. “Well, you’re safe here. ” She couldn’t stop the shudder that swept over her.
Her aunt had been petite, with a waistline comparable to one of Sin’s thighs in circumference. Over her shoulder, Baen’s face appeared in the mirror. ” Laughing, she lowered the dress and faced him. ” His gaze traveled downward over curves she knew he’d seen bare. Instead of embarrassing her, it stirred quivers inside her. Heat pooled between her thighs. Baen’s eyes smoldered when he looked back up. “We’re obviously not looking at the same body,” he said. She couldn’t respond. Had her shape ever inspired such a scorching look in any of her lovers?
No. ” They were kidding, right? The desire to suck blood and an allergy to sunlight weren’t something she’d considered asking Santa for. Ever. She grew faint when she had a hangnail. Drink blood? No way. Not even with vodka and pepper sauce. “Not everyone here is a vampire,” Baen explained. “There are psychics, witches, fairies…” Sin frowned. ” She heard the words as she said them. So she could accept vampires, but drew the line at fairies? Closing her eyes, she leaned back into the pillow. ” She heard shuffling sounds and the room grew quiet.