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I’m in audio…and I think I forgot to tell you. Also…Damon

Okay, I am not in audio.

Kit is.  Audible has the first five books of the Kit Colbana series in audio and you can grab them all up now.

Have you been following the information about my Patreon?

What's a patron

I published my patron exclusive short story a few days ago, a short story told from Damon’s POV in the week leading up to the events that took place in Blade Song.

The patrons loved it.  Right now, it is a patron exclusive story, but patron support starts at only $1 if you’re interested. Pledges are collected at the end of the month and rewards go out after that.

If you’d like to check the page out, you can go here. You can read the first chapter here and the purpose behind the patreon here.

And…

I got the first look at the draft of HAUNTED BLADE, Book #6 in the Colbana Files.  I want a few adjustments made, then I’ll start figuring out how to post it.

For now….

Haunted

Diva is on the cover again.  She’s beautiful and a perfect Kit.

I’m finally on a groove with this one and I want to finish it this month, I hope.  If that happens, we can look at an August or September release date.

On Christmas…A Damon POV for you

May you have a joyous and blessed Christmas.  God bless.

Christmas

From the end of Night Blade

There were things in my life that had haunted me, but there would never be anything like that day.  I deserved every awful, miserable second and I’d taken a thousand more days like this—if I could take it from her.

She was thin, like it had been months instead of weeks since she’d disappeared.  Kit was so mouthy and arrogant, half the time she made a person think she was bigger than she was, but under all that attitude, she was slender, almost delicate and now, she looked it.  Her skin looked paper thin and her cheekbones were too sharp, jutting up against the hollows of her face.

And she was bruised.

Even though she was clothes on now, I could remember the area of every fucking bruise. Every mark put on her.

The worst of all of it, though, was her eyes.  There was no life in them—almost as if Greaves hadn’t acted in time and she had gone over that edge.

I wanted her to look at me, wanted to find some way to strip that loss of…everything…from her, but she wouldn’t look at me.

Standing there, lost in the trees, I looked at her and waited, watched for some sign that she even knew I existed, knew I was here.  If she gave me any sign, I would have crawled over the frozen ground, broken glass and through the fires of hell.  If she said, kill…I’d storm that fucking fortress and everybody inside it would be dead in a moment.

 

But all she did was sit there, huddling behind Doyle and clutching a borrowed coat around her narrow shoulders.  Doyle had saved her, so I throttled down the need to grab the kid and beat him bloody for daring to be at her side when everything inside me said it should be me with her.

I’d lost that right.   Nobody knew that as well as I did.

But nothing could drag me from that spot there.

If somebody breathed too loud, she flinched and I couldn’t stand it.

This was the mean, ball-busting little bitch who’d once pulled a blade on me.  When she was afraid, she kicked people in the teeth.  When she was nervous, she mouthed off.  And if she was pissed, you better check her hands for sharp objects.

And now…

Red flooded my vision.  A furious roar flooded my head—the one I couldn’t voice.  No matter how many times, I tried to block it out, I kept seeing her as she came tearing out of the big pile of stone behind us.  I’d thought…

No, man.  Don’t go thinking.

 

If I started thinking, I was going to remember what she’d almost done.  She kept darting looks out through the trees and my gut told me if she thought she could, she might still try to just…end it.

And if I kept looking at her, I thought maybe I was going to be the one to lose my mind.  I couldn’t do this. But I couldn’t walk away from this place, either.  Shifting my attention to the fortress in the mountains, I stared at it.  The monster in me stretched his muscles, claws outstretched, teeth bared.  He wanted to come and play–destroy.  He was a mean bastard even under the best circumstances.  And when another broken gasp came to me on the wind, I had to admit…these weren’t the best circumstances.

 

She wouldn’t look at me.  Wouldn’t let me get near her and any time I tried, she backed away like she thought I might hurt her.  The bitch of it all…I even understood that.  If I didn’t do something, I was going to explode.  The monster raging inside me saw to that.

I didn’t bother stripping out of my clothes as I slid off into the night.  The shift took care of them.  They fell in shreds around me and I paid about as much attention to them as I did to the snow blasting again my skin.  I knew it was there, but I didn’t fucking care.

There were only two things that mattered—one of them was behind me…and she didn’t want to see me.

The other was in that huge mausoleum of a house and as soon as he came out, I didn’t care if he was under guard or not, I was going to rip him apart.  I’d bury my claws in his gut and then rip him apart.  I could already smell the acrid, rotting stink of his blood and the burn of anticipation was the only thing that had made me feel good since this nightmare had started.

Hiding myself in the shadows, I looked back at her.  She huddled against the tiger and I whispered, “I’m so damn sorry.”

But it didn’t matter.  I hadn’t protected her.  The one thing I’d promised her and I’d failed.

No wonder she didn’t want to look at me.

I didn’t think I’d ever be able to face myself again, not after this.

Damon’s Valentine

Word of warning… technically, this piece is out of time.  If I followed the story’s timeline, we’d be roughly in April.  But, well, just work with it.  I wanted him to give her a Valentine.  It sounded fun.

Also, this is just for fun–I wrote it in about fifteen minutes and read it through, but I didn’t send it to beta readers or anything so there probably are typos.  That’s fine. Pretty please, don’t feel the need to point them out.  Again, this was just for fun.

~*~

Damon’s Valentine- Damon POV

“What are these?”

I looked at the flowers, feeling more than a little stupid as Kit stared at them.  Her pretty green eyes were confused.  Scowling, I shoved them into her hands.  “They’re called flowers.”

“I know that.”  She stroked a finger down the petal of one, her frown fading away.  But she didn’t smile.

I’d wanted to see her smile.

She didn’t do it enough.  Not anymore.  Not since—

Rage was a living, breathing thing in me and I had to wrap a stranglehold around it, shove into a box and smash it down.  Don’t.  If you go there, she’s gonna see.  Calm the fuck down.  “I had to go into Orlando.  There were all these cards and shit.  It’s Valentine’s Day.  I just thought…”

Now she looked up, her gaze meeting mine.

“Valentine’s Day.”  Now she smiled, but it was a weird one.  She took a step toward me.  My heart started to beat faster.  My dick twitched—it’s like a reflex.  Sometimes she just looks at me and it happens.  “You ever hear any of the real history behind it?”

“No.”  I didn’t care.  She’d smiled.  Even if it was over something weird, she’d smiled.  Lifting my hand, I rested it on the curve of her neck.  I felt the ridges hidden under the ink—poisoned flowers, a broken blade.  Stroking my thumb along the hollow of her throat, I waited.  Her faint smile widened into a dark, slightly twisted grin and I wanted to cover that wide, wicked mouth.  Taste her. Strip her.

“Valentine was some kind of priest.”

That had the fantasy I’d been spinning stalling—it didn’t fade.  It just slowed down.  “Valentine—he was a real guy?”

“Yeah.  It’s human stuff so I don’t know much about him, but they threw him in jail.  He was performing marriages or something, if I remember right.  Then they killed him.”  She lowered her head, studied the flowers.  “Trust humans to make up some sort weird holiday over a guy being jailed, then killed.”

She’d gone still, in that way she did when she started to remember.  Fuck.  I’d gone and reminded her.  Not that she needed a reminder.  She lived it.  Bore the scars.  Slowly, I reached down and took the roses.  “Maybe it’s not over him being jailed…but why.  It was for love.  He believed in it, right?”

As I put the flowers down, she looked up at me.  “Wow, Damon.  That’s almost…romantic.  Here you are, giving me flowers, spouting romantic thoughts.”

I tugged her against me.  The feel of her did bad, bad things.  Thought wanted to stop.  I wanted her naked.  Wanted bare skin under my hands.  Wanted her wet and hot as I fucked her.

I cupped her face.  “Maybe I just want you in a good mood.”  I pressed my mouth to hers.  “I probably want something.”

“What?” she asked, her voice wry, although it was going husky. “Let me guess…it involves me naked.”

“I pretty much always want you naked, baby girl.”  I brushed my mouth over hers, felt a growl building in me as she shuddered.

“Maybe we can arrange that.”  She slid her hands down my chest.  My cock jerked like she’d reached inside my pants instead.  She tipped her head, smiling at me once more. “I feel bad.  You bought me a present. I don’t have anything for you.”

“Get naked. That will work.”  I wasn’t about to tell her that all I needed was to see her smile.  Especially not when she was already reaching for the hem of her shirt.   Yeah, I wanted to see her smile…but smiling and naked was even better.