He traced her bottom lip, his eyes glittering. “Aye. She and Nick are on the coast, fighting it out. I believe they’re safe for a while, and we have a little time to figure out who’s after her.” He breathed out. “I mean, if they don’t kill each other first. That would take care of the entire problem.”

She chuckled. If the tension vibrating through the room when Nick and Simone had been in one place was any indication, they were either fighting or making love at that very moment. “I’ve e-mailed all my research on the Coven Nine and planekite holdings throughout the world to you.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

She believed him. If he said that Simone wasn’t involved in those companies, then she trusted his judgment. “What about Titans of Fire?” she asked. “Was Kellach able to find out who’s distributing Apollo?”

“Not yet, but basically because Pyro is still in jail.” Daire sighed. “We’ll figure out Fire next week. For now, let’s just enjoy us.”

How wonderful that they had an us. She’d never thought to find love again, and the reality of her good fortune made it difficult to concentrate on anything but the incredibly sexy body that was hers to touch. Forever. “All right, but I have to ask, is there going to be an issue with an enforcer mating a demon?”

He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t care in the slightest, so no, there’s no issue.”

She grinned again. “I figured you’d think all of this happened way too quickly.”

“Does anything happen in slow motion when you’re around?” His warm palm caressed down her back to rest on her butt.

“Nope.” She maneuvered herself on top of his strong body. Desire and love commingled inside her to create a comfortable craving she’d always associate with the enforcer. “So you’re okay with everything?”

He placed a kiss on her nose. “You are everything.”

Her heart jumped hard against her rib cage. Sometimes he was the sweetest person. “Are you sure we have time for a night off?”

He smiled. “I’m sure, and right now, I’m only thinking about you. We can return to reality tomorrow. For now, let’s enjoy the fact that we’re here, in a bed, and you’re naked.”

She chuckled, not missing the darkening of his eyes at her hoarse voice. “I’ve been thinking about robbing a bank I read about in Switzerland that hides money for criminals. It’d be a tough one, but I think I can come up with a plan. You in?”

He leaned down and kissed her, deep and strong. Finally, he lifted his head. “Oh, baby. I’m definitely in.”

Read on for an excerpt from Rebecca Zanetti’s novella

On the Hunt,

an introduction to her heart-pounding post-apocalyptic

SCORPIUS SYNDROME series!

Extinction is the rule. Survival is the exception.—Carl Sagan

WEEK 1

Eight people dead

Likelihood of Scorpius Containment: Definite

Wind whistled a mournful tune around aluminum buildings and across the jagged concrete tarmac. Dr. Nora Medina shivered in the damp night air and ignored the water splashing over her flip-flops. The soldiers around her, armed to the nth degree, merely added to the pressure building in her chest.

Her nearly bare chest.

She fought to keep her balance while hustling up the metal steps to the third private plane of her day.

Enough.

She might be the only unarmed person on the quiet tarmac, and the only woman, but enough was fucking enough, because she was also the only person wearing a borrowed white blouse over a bright pink bikini top, barelythere wrap around her bikini clad butt, and sandals.

Temper roared through her, and she planted her feet at the top of the stairs, only to slide across the wet surface.

“Ma’am,” said the nearest faceless soldier, reaching for her arm.

She jerked free and rounded on him. “I swear, if one more person calls me ‘ma’am’ or apologizes for the inconvenience of dragging me off a very nice beach in Maui several hours ago, I will take his gun and shoot him.”

The man’s expression didn’t change. “Yes, ma’am.”

She bit down a scream. “All right. Listen up. We are in Seattle, and I know we’re in Seattle.” She pressed her hands against chilled hips and tried to stand taller. “Do you know how I know?”

“No, ma’am.” Well trained, definitely at ease, the soldier kept his gaze above her right shoulder.

“I know,” she said slowly and through gritted teeth, “because I looked out the bloody window when we were landing. The next time you kidnap somebody, you might want to blacken out the windows.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded his head, ever so slightly, toward the doorway to the plane.

“This is kidnapping, and I’ve had it. We’re in Seattle, and yep, guess what? I live here. So I’m going to head home, take an incredibly hot shower, change my clothes, and then call—well, somebody. Anybody who will tell me what the hell is going on.” Her rant would end perfectly if she could just get past him on the steps, but he easily blocked her way.

“All apologies, ma’am, but our orders are to escort you. Please embark.” He kept his voice level and polite.

She swallowed. There were six of them, one of her, and no way would she win a physical altercation. “Not until you tell me where we’re going.”

“Nora?” A voice called from inside the plane. “Get your ass in here.”

Every nerve she owned short-circuited. Her gut clenched as if a fist had plowed into her solar plexus. Slowly, spraying water, she pivoted toward the opening. It couldn’t be. It really couldn’t be.

The voice she knew so well. Male, low, slight Scottish brogue a decade in the States hadn’t quite banished. Her heart thundered, and fire skidded across her abdomen to flare deep. How was this even possible? She steeled her shoulders and approached the opening of the plane as if a bomb waited inside. So many thoughts rioted through her brain, she couldn’t grasp just one.

Warmth hit her first when she stepped inside, followed by another shock wave. “Deacan Devlin McDougall,” she murmured.

He stretched to his feet from one of the luxurious leather chairs, standing in the aisle—the only place high enough to accommodate his six-foot-four frame.

All the thoughts zinging around her head stopped cold.

Nothing. Her brain fuzzed. The years had been good to him, experience adding an intriguing look of danger to his masculine beauty.

His green gaze, dark and piercing, scored her see-through shirt, light wrap, and bare legs. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the extraction.”

Her chin lifted. Heat seared through her lungs, lifting her chest, and she slowly tried to control her body. No way would she let him see how difficult he made it for her to breathe—even after all this time.

He wore faded jeans over long legs and a dark T-shirt across a broad chest—no uniform. But the gun strapped to his leg was military issue, now wasn’t it? The weapon, so silent and deadly, appeared at home on his muscled thigh.

His dark brown hair, glinting with red highlights, now almost reached his shoulders. Very different from the buzz cut he’d had years before. His eyes, the green of a Scottish moor, held secrets, unplumbed depths, and promise. Chiseled face, hard jaw, and definite warrior features proudly proclaimed his ancestry, and even now, she could see the Highlander in him.

The door banged shut behind her, and she jumped.

He gestured toward the seat across from the one he’d occupied. The engines roared to life.