Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [415]
“You are well mated,” he said, that sage look shifting to Tegan.
“Yes, I am,” Tegan agreed without the slightest hesitation. He grinned at Elise, desire sparking as always just to look at her and know that by some miracle of fate, she was his. “I am very well mated.”
Lucan nodded. “Rest up. I won’t bother you again until we’re ready to move out and head back to Boston.”
As soon as he was gone, Elise wrapped Tegan in a loving embrace, her lips warm with promise as she kissed him. He felt the strength of her love surrounding him, and he knew that no matter how dark the coming days might be, he would always have this light to hold him. He kissed her back, interest stirring rigidly to life.
“You heard Lucan,” she murmured against his mouth, a smile in her voice. “You need to get some rest.”
“So?” he growled, playfully nipping her supple lower lip.
Elise laughed. “So, maybe we should wait to do this until we get home.”
Tegan rolled her onto the bed with him, smoothly pinning her under his awakening body. He looked down into her wide lavender eyes, which held him with so much love it staggered him.
He kissed her slowly, tenderly, sincerely.
“I am home,” he said, his voice rough with emotion as he pressed her down beneath him. “This is the only home I’ll ever need.”
About the Author
With family roots stretching back to the Mayflower, author LARA ADRIAN lives with her husband in coastal New England, surrounded by centuries-old graveyards, hip urban comforts, and the endless inspiration of the broody Atlantic Ocean. To learn more about Lara and her novels, please visit www.LaraAdrian.com.
Read on for a sneak peek of
Midnight Rising
by
LARA ADRIAN
Coming from Dell in spring 2008
Midnight Rising
On Sale spring 2008
Chapter One
The woman looked completely out of place in her pristine white blouse and tailored ivory pants. Long, coffee-dark hair cascaded over her shoulders in thick waves, not a single strand disturbed by the moist haze that hung in the air of the forest. She was wearing tall elegant heels, which hadn’t seemed to keep her from climbing up a wooded path that had the other hikers around her huffing in the humid July heat.
At the crest of the steep incline, she waited in the shade of a bulky, moss-covered rock formation, unblinking as half a dozen tourists passed her by, some of them snapping pictures of the overlook beyond. They didn’t notice her. But then, most people couldn’t see the dead.
Dylan Alexander didn’t want to see her either.
She hadn’t encountered a dead woman since she was twelve years old. That she would see one now, twenty years later and in the middle of the Czech Republic, was more than a little startling. She tried to ignore the apparition, but as Dylan and her three traveling companions made their way up the path, the woman’s dark eyes found her and rooted on her.
You see me.
Dylan pretended not to hear the static-filled whisper that came from the ghost’s unmoving lips. She didn’t want to acknowledge the connection. She’d gone so long without one of these weird encounters that she’d all but forgotten what it was like.
Dylan had never understood her strange ability to see the dead. She’d never been able to trust it or control it. She could stand in the middle of a cemetery and see nothing, then suddenly find herself up close and personal with one of the departed, as she was here in the mountains about an hour outside Prague.
The ghosts were always female. Always youthful-looking and vibrant, like the one who stared at her now with an unmistakable desperation in her exotic, deep brown gaze.
You must hear me.
The statement was tinged with a rich, Hispanic accent, the tone pleading.
“Hey, Dylan. Come here and let me get a picture of you next to this rock.”
The sound of a true, earthly voice jolted Dylan’s attention away from the beautiful dead woman standing in the nearby arch of weathered sandstone. Janet, a friend of Dylan’s mother, Sharon, dug into her backpack and pulled out a camera. The summer tour to Europe