Circle of Desire (Damask Circle 3)

“I’m not most men.”

She let her fingers trail down his chest and stomach until she touched the hard length of him. “Definitely not.”

He grinned and pressed her back against the gazebo’s wall. “I can feel the wolf taking charge again.”

His hands slid up to her breasts and slowly, teasingly, he brushed his thumbs across her aching nipples. As the ripples of sweet sensation flooded across her body, she found herself hoping there were no other people in the garden. If there were, they’d be seeing a little more than trees and shrubs all too soon.

“This wolf of yours seems to have an exhibitionist nature,” she gasped.

His touch slid down her waist, and the sound of the skirt’s zipper being pulled down filled the silence. “It’s the company I keep. She drives me insane.”

A feeling that was totally mutual. “Promise me two things.”

“Anything,” he murmured, pushing her skirt past her hips.

“Promise to give me lots of children.”

He looked up, and his eyes were filled with such fierce love, her heart quaked. “I intend to.”

“And promise never to curb the wolf’s desires.”

His wicked grin was the only answer she would ever need.

If you loved Circle of Desire, be sure not to miss the first book in the thrilling Spook Squad series:

Memory Zero

by

Keri Arthur

And stay tuned for the next two books in the Spook Squad series—Generation 18 and Penumbra—which will follow at one-month intervals.

Here’s a special preview:

IT WAS THE TYPE OF NIGHT ONLY THE DEAD COULD ENJOY—as dark as hell, and as warm as the Antarctic. Add to that the bonus of rain that bucketed down, and it was no wonder the streets were deserted.

Well, almost deserted, Sam amended, glancing at the alleyway across the street. An old man in a threadbare coat rummaged through the garbage bins that were lined up behind the Chinese restaurant, filling a plastic bag with God-knows-what. And not five minutes ago, two prostitutes had come knocking on her car’s window, their faces almost blue with cold as they’d tried to convince her to take them for a ride. Their expressions, when she’d flashed her badge, were almost relieved. But then, a warm cellblock was certainly more enticing than trying to ply their trade on a night like this. Had she not been waiting for her partner to turn up, she might have taken them downtown and charged them with soliciting, just to get them off the street and warm again. Prostitution might be legal these days, but it was restricted to certain areas, and this particular street wasn’t one of them.

But she’d had no choice except to let them go with a warning. To say they weren’t happy with this stroke of fortune was an understatement. Obviously, they’d been looking forward to being locked up in a warm cell. And right now she knew exactly how they felt. Even a cup of the shocking coffee they served at the station house would be heaven right now.

She glanced down at the onboard computer and noted that it was already after three. If her goddamn partner didn’t turn up soon, she was heading home. Why the hell he’d insisted on meeting in this ratty section of the city in the first place was beyond her. It wasn’t even close to their patrol zone.

Sighing, she crossed her arms and glanced out the car’s side window again. A plastic bag tumbled down the road, ghostlike in the darkness. Unease pricked across her skin, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just nerves. After all, it wasn’t every night she got an urgent call from a man who’d been missing for weeks. And it certainly wasn’t every night that she went against department policy and agreed to a secret meeting.

She glanced back to the alley. The old man had disappeared. While she knew he’d probably just moved beyond her line of sight, that vague sense of unease increased. She stared through the rain-washed darkness, watching for some form of movement that would indicate the old man was still there.

Nothing.

And instinct was insisting something was very wrong in that alley.

She rubbed a hand across her eyes and silently cursed her partner’s tardiness. She didn’t need this, not after a fifteen-hour shift—and especially not in a patrol zone that wasn’t hers. Just thinking about the extra paperwork made her head ache.

Still …

She leaned forward and pressed the locator switch. The onboard computer hummed to life, producing a map of the immediate vicinity. The only way out of the alley, besides the entrance she could see, was via a fire escape on the building that housed the Chinese restaurant. She stabbed a finger at the screen and the computer immediately listed other occupants. The top two floors were empty, but the second floor was rented to an R. C. Clarke.

She frowned again. The name rang a bell, though she didn’t know why. She pressed the screen a second time, but the computer had no additional information. For several seconds, she blindly watched the rain race down the glass. It was very wet out there. But the sooner she got out and investigated, the sooner she could get back to the relative warmth of this icebox they had the cheek to call a squad car.