BURN WITH ME
Finally here!!!

Available at Samhain / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo etc

Book 1 in Fireborne series

Aziza Jane Stewart is living on borrowed time, and making a few mistakes in London seems like a good way to go out with a bang. But when two compelling strangers draw her into an ancient conflict, she realizes her curse isn’t about death at all…it’s about the power within her.

The sexy giant following her says he can smell trouble on her skin, the smokeless fire and magic of the demons he was born and bred to hunt. Brandon may be an enforcer, but his reaction to her is anything but adversarial. Ram, her new Jinn shadow, will do whatever it takes to come between them, and he’s just as hard for Aziza to resist.

When her dark family legacy burns to the surface, whom can Aziza trust? The alpha male who pushes all her hot buttons, the Jinn who seduces her in dreams, or the emerging Fireborne within? As danger circles closer, she must learn to embrace her newfound powers—and trust someone with her heart—before she becomes the final casualty.

Warning: Explicit content, magic, danger, voyeurism, chains, a secret ménage and carnal deeds of devilish debauchery at every other turn. Basically…fasten your seatbelts and get ready to burn

SPICY EXCERPT:

He inhaled deeply, his lashes concealing the golden flecks in his eyes. “We covered it but I don’t think you understand. You don’t just smell like them. That would be too easy. That’s just a small piece of it. Your scent, the part that‘s human? Just you? It’s different... And now you’re uncomfortable.”

“You can smell that?” She stepped back self-consciously. “Stop it right now. I’m not sure if you know this, but the last thing a woman wants to hear from a man she’s recently thrown herself at is that she smells. Especially when she’s slept in her clothes.”

A single long stride brought him halfway across the small room. “What if the smell is addictive? What if it smells like hunger and sex and the air after the rain? Would she want to know then?”

Yes, please.

“Maybe. But maybe before the flattery goes to her head she wants to find out why the supersniffing-police-of-all-things-magical kidnapped her in the first place. And why you’re so willing to let me go without a fight.”

He hesitated. “You’re unique and you were in my territory. I needed to know what you were. Who you were. It seemed simple enough, but I didn’t think it through. An issue that’s been occurring with more and more frequency these past few days.”

Because of you, his look implied. She distracted him. Well, in that case, they were even. She sensed it as he spoke. The now-familiar feeling that told her she was about to do something without thinking it through. About to act impulsively on the desire she’d had since she’d first laid eyes on him.

“So if I were dangerous...” she lowered her voice and moved close enough to run her cell phone teasingly over his chest, “...and you wanted to know more about me, you’d—what? Clap me in irons?”

“Yes.” The rough texture of his voice scraped deliciously up her spine.

“Those irons? The ones above my head?”

“Yes.” He took her phone out of her hand. “What are you doing?”

Aziza wasn’t sure. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “What would you do after that? How would you get me to talk? To tell you whatever you wanted to know?”

She could hear the deep rumble as soon as it started in his chest. It made her blood heat. “Tell me, Brandon.”

“There is no if about it. You are dangerous. And I’m confused.” He moved closer until she could feel her breasts brushing against his shirt. “I thought you wanted to leave.”

“I did,” she assured him, her hands lifting to land on his stomach, feeling the ridge of muscles there and wishing she could lick them. “I do. I definitely do.”

Brandon raised the curved fingers of one hand to her cheek, tracing the line her tears had taken when she’d realized her friend was back to normal. It was a tender gesture. Unexpectedly gentle.

“Do you want me to leave right away?” she asked.

His response was swift and emphatic. “No.”

She took her hands off his body with a moment of regret for the loss of contact and lifted her arms in the air, clasping the handcuffs teasingly with the tips of her fingers. “Then show me how you’d make me talk.”

He inhaled sharply, his features, for a moment, looking more primal— animal—than human. A predator scenting his prey. “Don’t move.”

She kept her arms above her head as he disappeared from her line of sight. She could hear the scrape of metal against metal when he lifted the low bench from the far wall and carried it over, setting it down behind her. She’d have to stand on it, she realized, to fit into the cuffs hanging from the ceiling. She started to turn, but his words froze her in place.

“This is my interrogation, Aziza, and I told you not to move.”

“Yes, sir.” She shivered again. Visibly shaking and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Brandon moved to stand in front of her once more and lowered her arms down to her sides.

“You should think about this, you know,” he informed her. “I should think about this. Hell. The fact that I’m even considering...”

His words slowed to a halt when she shook her head of hair, still wild from her adventures, and her trembling fingers started working on the corset that now seemed too tightly laced for her to catch her breath. “You should take my advice and stop thinking. It ruins everything.”

“Keep it on.”

She froze and smiled in question. “Because you like the corset? Or because you’re not interested anymore?”

“I like it. And you are trouble,” he groaned, gripping her hips and lifting her onto the bench.

From this position she was still barely a head taller than he was, and the chains would still make her body stretch to keep her feet on the bench. Perfection.

She watched as Brandon reached behind him and tugged his shirt over his head, realizing she might have used that word too soon. He was perfection. A mountain of a man carved from rock, just for her. A body etched in hard, jagged edges, awe inspiring to gaze upon, and something she wanted desperately to climb.

His tattoos were just as impressive. More than the usual tribal designs, the dark ink that covered his skin from his chest, over his shoulder and down to his elbow seemed to emanate power, its stylized symbols swirling around his flexing muscles like artistic armor.

She licked her lips, pouting when he didn’t take off his jeans.
Brandon noticed and gave her his first genuine smile. “You don’t have a lot of patience, do you?”

Aziza tilted her head, as if in consideration. She kicked off her shoes and— pulling him closer to use his bare shoulder for balance—slipped her leggings down and off her legs. “I suppose that’s true. I think I got out of the habit.”

She’d spent the last two years living in the moment, knowing she was going to die. There wasn’t time for patience. “Please don’t tell me you’ll make me wait. I’m not in to delayed gratification...and no one likes a tease.”

He took a breath and began to walk around the bench, taking her in. She saw him shake his head in wonder. “Where have you been hiding?”