Book Two in the Wraith Series
Celia Brian is a witch—and that’s not the worst of her problems.
She’s been in love with spell-catching Wraith warrior Jonas Grey her entire life. Sparring partner, friend, confidante—that’s all she expects from Jonas. Beautiful golden gods aren’t meant for mere mortals, even if she does entertain fantasies every once in a while.
After demons murder his wife, the only focus Jonas has is killing his enemies. He lost his Amorta, his soul mate, and doesn’t deserve to be interested in another woman, especially not his good friend and boss’s daughter.
When Celia unearths an ancient riddle that triggers a series of attempts on her life, Jonas’s protective instincts are roused. Bound by a prophecy that could grant their deepest desires or take their lives, Jonas and Celia engage in the age-old battle between good and evil, life and death, and male and female.
Celia’s a spell caster, Jonas a spell catcher. Opposites attract.
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His golden head ducked and lithe body spun under the sweeping arms of the demon. A fist shot under the snout of the creature, driving its head up and back. His other hand followed and gripped where an ear should have been. With a quick, violent wrench, the head came off, and he tossed it away before turning toward the second demon.
Cee tore her gaze from his broad back and tracked the beast’s skull as it spun like a top and hit the floor with a solid thump before skittering away under the kitchen table. The second demon’s body fell to reveal another man standing behind it, his knives black with blood. Cee only got a fleeting glimpse before Jonas loomed in front of her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, not even out of breath.
Celia stared, wide-eyed and panting, her attraction and appreciation shamefully undimmed by the deadly event that had just taken place. Of course Jonas would come to her rescue, as if conjured when she needed him most.
“Great.” She struggled to steady her voice, but the breathless sound made him want to eat her up. “That’s flattering.”
“I don’t mean to flatter. I mean to figure out what it is you’re doing to me.”
“Doing to you?” Celia bit out in a dangerous tone, and her eyes cleared from the thrall of their kiss. “You think I’m doing something to you? I have to use my powers to make you want me?”
He bit back the snappish retort, the snarl brought out by base emotions, and forced his voice to be calm. Even. Forced himself not to grab and run, take and keep. He was going mad. “Who said I wanted you?”
She arched a brow in disbelief, and her gaze traveled down his body to focus below his waist. He twitched and instinctively fought back. It wasn’t in his nature to be bested at anything.
“You do have beautiful eyes.” They shot back to his and widened. He lowered his lids, smoldering her, moving his gaze to her mouth. “Such pretty skin. So soft and smooth. Touchable. Can I touch you, Celia?”
Her mouth parted on a gasp, and he took it for permission. One finger traced along her cheek from the corner of her eye to her mouth.
“Lovely. You’re blushing. Does my touch do that to you? And your mouth.” He lowered his head a fraction of an inch. “So wide and soft.”
His fingertip brushed her lower lip, and her breath hitched. “Made for kissing, isn’t it? Can I kiss you, Celia? Will you let me kiss your pretty mouth?”
“Oh,” she breathed, eyelids fluttering. The enthrallment was back. “Oh. Yes.”