The drapes were parted, and there on the other side of them, she saw a dove. It stared back at her for a minute, then spread its wings and took flight.
"Darlin'?"
She turned to see Ian in the doorway, looking at her worriedly.
"You had a bad dream, lass," he said. "Is everything all right now?"
"Yes, Ian." She moved into his arms, and felt them close around her. The most incredible feeling of rightness washed through her, and she relaxed against him. "Everything's really all right now. I'm sure of it."
She lifted her eyes to his. "I want to marry you. I'm sure of that too."
His brows lifted in surprise, and then a smile appeared on his handsome face, a smile she loved with everything in her. "But what about the curse?"
"There is no curse, not anymore," she told him. "But even if there were, I'd marry you anyway. It would be worth the risk. Love is worth any risk, Ian. I understand that now."
He stared into her eyes for a long moment, and then he kissed her, more tenderly, more gently, than he ever had. And Kira knew then, that her life was perfect.
About Maggie Shayne
It was a sleepless night spent caring for a sick baby that jump-started New York Times bestselling author MAGGIE SHAYNE's writing career.
Now she is the author of more than forty novels, ranging from stories about witches, vampires, psychics, and ghosts to bone chilling, edge-of-your-seat romantic suspense and beyond. Maggie has appeared on the New York Times, USA Today, Amazon.com, B. Dalton, Booksense, Ingram's, Barnes and Noble, and Walden-books (where she reached #1) bestseller lists.
What would she be doing if she wasn't so accomplished a writer? Maggie maintains she'd be equally happy as a rock star. "I have a karaoke machine, and I'm actually damn good," she says. "Furthermore, Sheryl Crow and I are the same age, so I figure if this writing thing doesn't work out, there's still time."
http://www.maggieshayne.com/
HAPPILY NEVER AFTER
Jeaniene Frost
Prologue
The old woman glanced at her watch. Quarter to eleven . It wouldn't be long now.
Across the dark alley, two young men sauntered over with the sly, exaggerated swagger of teenagers up to no good. She barely spared them a glance as she tapped her foot and hummed. Once, very long ago, she'd have sauntered over to them, swinging her hips and murmuring promises of pleasure—for a price. But that had been another lifetime ago.
The youths came nearer, greed and opportunism glittering in their eyes. The woman knew she looked like an easy target: a senior citizen standing in a dimly lit alley wearing an expensive trench coat, a gold watch, with a bulky purse dangling from her age-skinny arm. She may as well have added a sign that said "come and get me!"
"Whatcha doin' out here, grandma?" one of them singsonged. The other hung back a foot or two, eyes flickering around to see if anyone was watching. No one was. People minded their own business on this side of South Philly.
At a nod from his lookout, the other punk pulled out a switchblade.
"Give me your money, your jewelry, and your purse. Or I'll cut you."
The old woman smiled. "Do you know what you two are?" she asked in an amused voice.
They looked at each other in surprise, clearly not expecting her lack of fear. Then their scowls returned.
"Yeah, we're the guys robbing you!" the one with the knife snapped.
"No," said a voice from the other end of the alley, an English accent decorating his words. "You're dinner."
Before the two could blink, they were dangling by their throats from pale, rock-steady hands. One was yanked close to the black-clad figure. The stranger's eyes changed from brown to glowing green as he dipped his head to the exposed throat. The youth's partner in crime, still hoisted aloft, could only make terrified grunts as he watched fangs pierce his friend's neck.
Then the stranger dropped the now-limp form and latched his mouth onto the other available neck. A minute later the second youth dropped flaccidly to the street. The stranger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then pulled the old woman to him.
Instead of struggling, she hugged him as hard as her feeble body could manage. He squeezed back gently, smiling when he let her go.
"Greta, whatever were you thinking by telling me to meet you here? This is no place for you."
She laughed with a hint of her former bawdy cackle.
"I was thinking you'd be hungry, Bones. I knew I'd have something for you to eat by the time you got here."
He chuckled as well, brushing a strand of white hair from her face. "Same old Greta. Always finding ways to please her blokes."
She felt the warmth of many pleasant memories shimmer through her. Bones' beautiful face hadn't changed with time, and that was a comfort. Time was merciless on so many things, including herself, but it had no power over the blond vampire standing in front of her.
She glanced at the still forms near their feet. "Are they dead?" she asked, more curious than concerned.
Absently Bones kicked one of them. "No, just unconscious. I'll drop these sods in the nearest dumpster before we leave. Serves them right for threatening you."
Which brought her to why she'd called him here. "I need a favor," Greta said.
He took her hand. Once his skin would have felt noticeably cooler, but no longer. With the meal he just ate and my poor circulation, Greta thought wryly, we're almost the same temperature.
If he thought that as well, it didn't show on his face. Very softly, he kissed her fingers.
"Whatever you need, you know you have but to ask."
Tears pricked her eyes. A long time ago, she'd left the home Bones gave her to marry a man she'd fallen madly in love with. Fifty years later, she didn't regret her decision, but sometimes she wondered how things would have turned out if she'd stayed with Bones instead.
Greta shook off the memories. "It's my grandchildren," she began. "They're in trouble."
Twenty minutes later, Greta was finished detailing their predicament. Bones nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.
"I can't handle this myself, luv, because I'm focusing all my energy on finding someone, but I'll send a bloke who'll take care of things. I trust him, so you'll all be in good hands. My word on it."
Greta smiled. "That's more than enough for me."
Chapter 1
Isabella peeked through the slats sectioning off the prep room from the rest of her restaurant's on-display kitchen. Yes, the dark-haired man was still at his table, and yes, he was still staring at her.
Fool, she thought as she jerked out of sight. Hadn't he heard? She was now engaged to Robert "Robbery" Bertini. Here comes the bride, she thought with a fresh spurt of anger. Why hadn't she just gone out with Robert the first time he asked? Or the tenth? It was only her repeated refusals that made her stand out from all the other women he had on his expensively clad arm. She'd seen Goodfellas, she should have known that saying no to a mob boss, even a relatively minor one like Robert, would only encourage him to go after her. Why had he decided to come to her restaurant every Thursday night, anyway? If he'd never set foot in here, none of this would have happened!
Actually, it could all be blamed on meatballs. Isa gave a nearby pan of seasoned meaty goodness an evil glare. Yep, it was their fault. Damned tasty little bastards had put her late parents' restaurant on the map. Who knew they'd also turn out to be a local mafia boss's favorite meal?