This week I’m sharing a snippet from Girl Gone Nova:
Her eyes were a deep shade of purple, an eye color Hel had never seen before. This should have made her eyes cool, but they weren’t cool. They burned in the pale oval of her face. The frame of black lashes intensified both the color and heat of her eyes, ramped up the impact like a sun going nova. He looked for flaws in how she was made and found none. He homed in on her mouth. It was well formed and pink—the Leader’s personal color.
If she was Halliwell’s secret weapon, the man was more subtle than Hel had suspected.
Color stained the sculpted lines of her cheekbones, and the pulse at the base of her throat jumped into hyperdrive, pounding against the pale skin in a way that seemed to say, put your lips here, now, before you die. Hel almost answered that demand, as desire, thick and rich, stirred in his veins. He needed to do something, say something before he gave into temptation.
“Morticia.” His voice emerged as a husky rasp.
He’d been sure her eyes could get no wider, no deeper, but they did. Then the thicket of lashes swept down to rest against pale cheeks, there was a forever pause before they lifted again. Purple was gone, though the blue was still intense and unusual. Her mouth curved into a grin that was nothing like the smile she’d directed at Naman. This look was real. He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. He knew her.
A soft chuckle spilled out of her parted lips. “Right.”
Her voice had a different inflection than others of her kind, giving an elegance to her brief response. Desire settled now that he had her attention, though it’s current still pulsed between them, like a circuit seeking completion. Her smile also removed that lethal, almost other world quality. She was just a woman, he told himself, a lovely woman, but still just a woman. Even as his brain called him a liar, he wondered if he’d let himself overwork the problem of Halliwell and the threat that this woman had appeared to pose.
The sound of voices rising in jarring conflict ripped across the surface tranquility of the reception. Before his gaze, Morticia shifted into lethal again, like a picture losing its focus and then finding it.
And he knew he hadn’t imagined anything. She was dangerous, possibly the most dangerous woman he’d ever met.
The interruption, the altercation, was ill timed. Hel turned toward the sound. A member of the earth delegation appeared to be arguing with one of the servers at the service entrance. Hel frowned, shooting a sharp look of command at his head of security.
Wilstead started toward the pair, breaking into a trot as the dispute grew louder. The server’s voice rose to a shriek as the Earth man shoved her toward the doorway.
In the space between two beats of his heart, Hel’s warrior instincts displaced diplomacy. He moved to place himself in front of Morticia, but she was already in motion—heading toward the disputants. Hel shouted a warning that was engulfed in a roar and in the bright, deadly light racing toward him…
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