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by Danielle D. Smith
Description: Skriker, half-demon bad boy, and his Nephil love, Rose, are inseperable. They've been through thick and thin, thin and thinner...and the hunt is calling them once again. Rumor of a skinwalker draws the notorious pair to Shiprock, New Mexico, a place sacred to the Navajo and a site of enormous supernatural power. The classic Route 66 awaits them and their Harleys, as do open stretches of desert where they can camp under the stars and rut like horny teenagers?the chance of slaying the skinwalker is simply the icing on Skriker's gore-soaked cake. But when they finally cross paths with the enemy, the ancient desert monster develops an insatiable desire to capture Rose and posess her...leaving Skriker fighting with all he's got to keep the love of his life from being snatched from his arms forever.
eBook Publisher: Solstice Publishing/Solstice Publishing, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: August 2011
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [98 KB]
Reading time: 58-82 min.
PART ONE: EYES IN THE DARK
A coyote howled in the night.
Rose blinked awake, her long dark lashes batting delicately against her cheekbones. Her sleep-clouded eyes focused blearily on the deep indigo of the night sky above her, as wide open as the ocean and pricked with the cold bright points of stars, like ghost lights under the surface of dark water. As wakefulness flooded her mind she inhaled sharply and sat bolt upright, clutching the mingled folds of the sleeping bag and army blanket against her breast, her heart thundering.
She had been dreaming. Of screams of rage, bloody wing feathers, and swords that burned with impossible white fire; a battle more ancient than mankind, fought in those cold dark heavens when the earth had been nothing more than a molten ball of lava and fire spinning in space far below. She had dreamed of this battle over and over since she was very small, and she could never, ever, banish it. Tonight, the horror clung to the edge of her memory like a wisp of black cobweb, sending a shudder down her spine.
The coyote wailed again, a mournful cry that echoed across the dark hills.
Rose sighed, raking her fingers through her tangled curls. A thin sheen of sweat shimmered on her temples, and the night wind felt cool against her damp skin. She looked around the camp, her eyes--amazing eyes, the right as azure as a sapphire, the left the warm deep brown of rich fertile earth--flicking here and there. The desert night was softly warm and stunningly clear. All around the little camp that she and Skriker had made the arid New Mexican hills loomed out of the night; silver-frosted silhouettes against the deep backdrop of night. The hulks of their Harleys--Skriker's big black-and-chrome Heritage Softail and her slick-as-shit Nightster--loomed silently just beyond where they had laid their sleeping bag down. Another breeze blew past, rustling the scrub ever so gently, caressing her skin as softly as a lover.
They had ridden through Gallup the day before, their bikes roaring down Route 66 like two snarling beasts. After speaking to a few wary locals they left town and entered the desert, planning to stop for the night along the ninety four mile journey from Gallup to Shiprock. They had set up camp at the edge of the Navajo Reservation around dusk, unpacking weapons and salt and a hefty pack of beer from Skriker's saddlebags. They built a motherfucker of a campfire, scattered rock salt in a protective circle all around their camp, and had sat beside it together, chain smoking cigarettes and downing Newcastles as they planned out their hunt. Then they had had achingly hot sex under the stars, relishing their solitude in the dry warmth of the desert wilderness, putting on quite a show for the creatures that made this part of New Mexico their home.
Now, Rose sat there with Skriker dead asleep beside her, her gaze scanning the desert all around them--sand and low hillside and dry scrub--unsettled as all hell by her dream.