The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance (Trisha Telep) (Kitty Norville 0.50)

Archer stepped back and nearly stumbled into one of the padded chairs in front of his desk. Lilin’s beautiful breasts were pink from his caresses, her lips swollen from his kisses and her thighs wide, exposing her soft pink flesh. A wicked smile tilted the corners of her lips.

Another knock. Archer raised his voice. “I’ve been on an important call, Molly. Be right there.

“Get your clothes on,” he ordered Lilin in a low growl. “However you were hired, you’re now fired. Don’t come back here.”

She pouted. “Don’t you want to take me?”

“Yes . . . No! Get your clothes on.” He glanced around for her skirt and blouse. The only things on the floor were the scattered messages and architectural plans that he had to pick up in a hurry before Garfield came into the room. Archer turned back to his desk.

Lilin was gone.

Archer couldn’t move. This woman - or whatever was happening to him - was driving him mad.

He hurried around his desk and checked under it. Nothing. There was no other possible place for her to hide in his office, which contained only his desk, chairs and a round conference table. She definitely wasn’t under the table.

What was going on?

This took hallucinating to a whole new level.

He raised his fingers to his nose - the fingers that had just been inside her — and smelled Lilin’s musk. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

Now his hallucinations included her smell?

Lilin grumbled as she walked in the Hall of the Lost. Her hair caressed her naked buttocks, the air felt cool against her breasts, and the marble floor smooth beneath her bare feet. She’d been summoned to Queen Rusalka of the Unseelie Court. No doubt because of her failure.

She’d almost had Archer. Almost had him.

There would be no resisting her tonight.

Her shoulders tensed and her skin tingled as the Unseelie Fae guards drew open the massive gold-leafed doors of Rusalka’s receiving room. The guards were dark-green skinned with pointed ears and fierce expressions. They carried even fiercer weapons.

Lilin walked along the intricately carved footpath that led through the chamber to the Queen’s throne. Walking into the chamber was like walking into the forest, complete with trees, fresh earth, and wildflower blooms.

Queen Rusalka was like all Fae: her features were ageless but she was centuries, if not millennia, old. She bore the darkness of the Unseelie.

A crown of white-gold thorns was perched upon her long ringlets and she wore a black gown as usual. Each gown was different and beautiful, but always black. Black gemstones sparkled on the bodice of her gown today, and a diaphanous skirt sheltered her small, always bare, feet.

Lilin knelt before the Queen and lowered her head.

“You have been unsuccessful.” Queen Rusalka’s sharp tone echoed through the trees in the chamber. “Twice. I commanded you to retrieve this mortal’s soul and bring it to me. But you failed.”

“Yes, my Queen.” Lilin wanted to rush to explain what had happened this second time - the interruption that broke her hold on Archer - but she bit her tongue knowing that would gain her a worse punishment.

A dangerous growl rose within Rusalka’s throat. “Fail again and I shall see you suffer a mortal’s life.”

Before Lilin could stop herself, her head shot up. “Mortal? As in human?”

Queen Rusalka narrowed her black eyes. “You dare to question me, Succubus?”

Lilin lowered her gaze. “Of course not, my Queen. I shall take Archer Dane’s soul. Tonight.”

Three

Archer stood at his wet bar with a shot of whiskey in one hand, the bottle in the other. What happened to him last night and this morning? The more he thought of it, the more absurd it seemed. Christ. Last night he had even imagined this Lilin woman had wings.

He swore he could still taste the sweetness of her mouth on his tongue, smell the rain-washed scent of her hair and her musk on his fingers.

In one swallow he downed the whiskey, then poured another shot as the drink burned his throat and warmed his chest. If he was going to lose his rnind, he might as well do a good job of it.