the edge. But she’s not a big fan of getting kidnapped. And
definitely not by a bunch of bad boy witches with fancy-colored fire
to shoot at people. So when Adam Dunne shows up and claims to be a
witch enforcer, she’s not going to put her life in his hands based
on his word, no matter how smooth and smart and beautifully Irish his
words sound. But on the run from a tribunal of witches, she isn’t
going to make it far . . .
execution. Sophisticated, just-gotta-ruffle-him Adam has vowed to
make her his one eternal mate, wild and unpredictable as she is—to
save her from a sentence of certain death. But Tori isn’t
interested in being anyone’s pity date. And if they think she’s
unpredictable now, they should see what’s coming next . . .
So far, the magical world of Ireland sucked eggs. Her dreams of rolling hills, rugged men, and wild adventures had given way to facts that tilted her universe, spun it around, and spiked it headfirst into the ground.
The world held too many secrets.
Tori Monzelle leaned her shoulders against the cold interior wall of the van and tried to blink through a tight blindfold. Nothing. She couldn’t see a thing. The carpet in the rear of the van smelled fresh but was rough against her pants, while she sat with her knees drawn up and her hands tied behind her back.
A metallic taste filled her mouth. Her mind whirled, and she tried to focus, but her breath panted out of her lungs as if somebody squeezed them.
The vehicle hiccuped a couple of times but ran smoothly for now. It would experience a mechanical glitch at some point. Her curse was predictable. At least then she could run.
She cleared her throat. The whole situation was just so surreal. If she could get the two kidnappers to stop the van, maybe she could get free. “Listen, jackasses. I’m done with this entire kidnapping scenario. I promise not to tell anybody that supernatural beings exist. Just let me go.”
A snort came from the front seat. “Supernatural,” one of the men muttered.
Her chest heated. “So you think you’re natural. Then how about I refrain from announcing your species even exists?”
Where were they taking her? The sounds of drizzling rain and honking horns filtered in from outside, while the two men breathed loudly in the front seats. She hadn’t recognized either of them when they’d arrived at the penthouse an hour before. For an entire week, she’d been held hostage in various luxurious Dublin locales after having been kidnapped from Seattle. The last penthouse where she’d been kept even had a piano. Finally, she’d been able to play music and had created a new score.
Then they’d come for her—again. This was the first time she’d been blindfolded during relocation. That couldn’t be good.
Had it only been a week since she’d learned the world wasn’t as she’d thought?
Immortal beings existed. As in really existed.
“Are you witches, demons, or vampires?” If she had to guess, they were witches. They were just a different species from humans. So far, she’d seen witches create and throw fireballs, and she’d met a demon who’d shown her his fangs. She had to go on faith that vampires really existed, but at this point, why not believe? “Mr. Kidnappers?”
No answer. She’d seen their faces; the only reason to blindfold her now was to keep her lost and confused. So she couldn’t find her way back to safety. She shuddered.
The van swerved, and she knocked her head against the side.
“Ouch.” It was time to get free. “This is international kidnapping.”
Did witches care about international laws? Her shoulders shook, and a welcome anger soared through her.
The van jerked.
“What the hell?” one of the guys snapped.
The world tilted.
Something sputtered. The engine?
An explosion rocked the van, and it started to spin. Her temple smacked metal. Pain flashed white and red behind her eyes. She rolled to the other side across the carpet.
Breath swooshed from her lungs. Blood welled on her lip, and she blinked behind the blindfold.
The van stopped cold, and she rolled toward the front, her legs scrambling. Her forehead brushed the carpet and she shook her head frantically, dislodging the blindfold.
The front doors opened, and grunts sounded. Men fighting. Punches being thrown.
The back doors opened, and light flooded inside. She turned just as broad hands grabbed her ankles and dragged her toward the street. Kicking out, she struggled furiously, her eyes adjusting and focusing on this new threat. A ski mask completely covered the guy’s head, leaving only his eyes and mouth revealed.
With the light behind him, she couldn’t even make out the color of his irises.
His strong grip didn’t relent, and he easily pulled her toward the edge, dropping her legs so her feet could touch the ground.
She threw a shoulder into his rock-hard abs and stood. He was at least a foot taller than she and definitely cut hard.
Everything in her screamed to get the hell out of the area and make a run for it. She was smart, she was tough, and she could handle the situation. No time to think. She leaped up and shot a quick kick to his face. While he was tall and fit, he probably wasn’t expecting a fight.
He snagged her ankle an inch from his jaw, preventing the impact. Using her momentum to pull her forward, he manacled his other hand to the back of her thigh and lifted, tossing her over his shoulder in one incredibly smooth motion.
Her rib cage slammed into solid muscle, knocking the wind from her lungs. She stilled in shock. Her adrenaline spiked, and the blood rushed through her ears. Free—she had to get free. This guy was too powerful and way too much in control. She couldn’t fight him, and there was no doubt she was outmatched. Fear sharpened the entire day into focus.
She tried to struggle.
One firm hand anchored her thighs, and he turned, moving into a jog. The sound of fighting behind them had her lifting her head to see more men in ski masks battling the two guys from the van. Those two were losing badly. Blood sprayed from the driver’s nose, and he went down. Hard.
Then her captor turned a corner and ran through an alley, easily holding her in place.
“Let me go,” she gasped, pulling on the restraints holding her hands. Cobblestones flew by below, while cool air brushed across her skin. Rain pattered down, matting her hair to her face. Begging wouldn’t work with this guy—she just knew it. What did he want?
“Leave me here, and I won’t turn you in.”
He didn’t answer and took two more turns, finally ending up in yet another alley, next to a shiny black motorcycle. Her hair swooshed as he ducked his shoulder and planted her on her feet. Firm hands flipped her around, and something sliced through her bindings.
Blood rushed into her wrists, and she winced at the prickly pain, pivoting back around.
“Who are you?” She set her stance to fight. He reached out and tugged the blindfold completely off her head before ripping off his ski mask.
Zanetti has worked as an art curator, Senate aide, lawyer, college professor, and
a hearing examiner – only to culminate it all in stories about Alpha
males and the women who claim them. She writes contemporary romances,
dark paranormal romances, and romantic suspense novels.
glorious backdrops and winter wonderlands of the Pacific Northwest
has given Rebecca fantastic scenery and adventures to weave into her
stories. She resides in the wild north with her husband, children,
and extended family who inspire her every day—or at the very least
give her plenty of characters to write about.
for exclusive excerpts and a giveaway!