As a sentinel, charged with keeping order in the paranormal world, Tomas knows his witchcraft can’t touch
Rana. He asks for the case anyway. Why? Because he has a weapon the other sentinels don’t have. And he is
bound and determined to take back what she stripped away the first time they met.
The only problem is…desire doesn’t die. No matter how cynical you are.
EXCERPT
Everything inside Tomas sizzled at the sight of her. All he could do was nod in agreement.
Rana looked exactly the same.
She wore a long nightgown that would have been prim and proper enough for Tomas' great-grandmother if it
wasn't for the fact that it was completely transparent. Even from that distance, her hard nipples were dusky
shadows through the fabric, calling attention to her full breasts. His gaze traveled downward to the ripe
curve of her hips, his fingertips growing hot at the memory of sinking into the soft flesh, of gripping
her tightly as he ploughed into her from behind. It was almost a shame she was facing them. Rana had a
magnificent ass.
"If she's some kind of winter element chick," Jett whispered, "where's the white hair? Shouldn't she be
all pale and icy or something like that?"
"You don't know your temperatures," Tomas replied, his lips barely moving, his voice so low that his
breath didn't appear as a cloud in the crisp air. "Get cold enough, and you always burn."
She still wore her fiery red hair in a pixie cut that exposed her long neck and delicate bone structure,
and the rest of it was straight out of the scrapbook of his memories. Deep brown eyes. The crooked mouth.
If she smiled, a dimple would dance in her left cheek.
She wasn't smiling now.
Rana came off the porch and onto the snow, her feet bare beneath the hem of her gown. It took several
seconds of scanning the darkness, but then her head swiveled, drawn in his direction as if that had been
her intent all along, and her gaze settled on them unwavering.
"Wait until I'm inside," Tomas breathed without a glance at his partner. He walked forward until he
reached the edge of the front path, his strides long and confident in spite of the cyclone currently
residing in his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his reflection in the ice and wondered if
he looked the same to her, too. He doubted it. If nothing else, his six-two frame was no longer the rangy
limbs of youth, with bulkier muscles cording his back and shoulders, and there was a strand or two of gray
shot through the dark hair that was always a little too long, a little too wavy. Maybe only the eyes would
be the same, deep-set and heavy-lidded.
Considering what he'd seen over the past ten years, though, maybe not.
"Tomas Dalmau. This is…unexpected."
Her honeyed alto made him hesitate, his foot cracking through the crusted veneer to sink to mid-calf in
the snow. Rana's fingers flickered, and the ice re-formed around his leg, closing in on his jeans to root
him to the spot.
Rana stepped within six feet of him, though maybe glided was a better word. She had the grace of a winter
wind, and while the breeze still snuck beneath his clothes to chap his skin, her gown hung untouched around
her legs. "A little…cold for you, isn't it? I wouldn't think you'd travel this far north."
Tomas shrugged. "What can I say? I'm the sultan of surprise."
She laughed, and it made him feel twenty-one again. He could almost smell the sunshine.
