Demons of Desire (Half-Breed Series Book 1)(2)

By: Debra Dunbar


No, no, no. I tried to rein her in. This man probably had kids my age. Either way, I could tell he was a nice guy. He deserved better than this, but my baser self didn’t agree. She was hungry.

The man’s eyes left my breasts and rose to meet mine. I saw the lust in them, along with confusion, and a bit of shame. I was ashamed too, but that emotion was drowned out by the thought of his mouth on mine, his … .

Married. Married. It was like an alarm bell, bringing my rational–self back into control. I didn’t care how hungry the monster living inside me was, I was not going to be responsible for this man breaking his wedding vows. Besides, he deserved better than a mind–blowing fuck in an airport bathroom that would yoke him to me for the rest of his life. He deserved better, and so did I.

“Thank you.”

I snatched the bag from him and nearly fell in my haste to get away. For Pete’s sake, I was in an airport, surrounded by people, and I was on the edge of having sex with a stranger who had been kind enough to grab my luggage off the conveyor belt. My face burned with embarrassment at the encounter, but I would have felt worse had we wound up naked in a public restroom stall.

I was out of control. Irix had been right, but his solution wasn’t something I could live with. I envisioned his mocking voice, his raised eyebrows when he gave me the I–told–you–so speech. I’d heard that speech all too often over the past month, but that wasn’t why I’d left. I could handle bossy; what I couldn’t handle was the way I felt every time he was near.

“Amber!”

There. By the doors. A young woman waved at me, her black hair pulled back, highlighting perfect cheekbones and warm, dark–brown skin. She bounced up and down on strappy sandals, all long legs and slim hips. I waved back and hustled myself toward her, shrieking as I grabbed her in a tight hug. Darci and I had kept in touch even after she’d transferred to Tulane, but I’d really missed her — my freshman roommate, my best friend. If anybody could help me find the Amber I used to be, it was Darci.

“Hurry, I’m double parked.” She disengaged and looked around for my luggage.

I grabbed the bag I’d dropped to hug her, grateful to be getting out of the airport. The heat and excitement of my escape had stirred up the monster inside, and the guys at baggage claim weren’t the only ones I was beginning to have lurid fantasies about. I hadn’t had sex in four weeks. This was New Orleans, a town of indulgences. I’d indulge, then hopefully the desperate hunger would taper off, and I could just relax and enjoy myself — like the old Amber.

We crammed my bags in Darci’s Jetta and took off, blasting the AC. Darci chatted on about college, a guy she was desperate to go out with, and what was on the agenda for today. She hadn’t been able to get the whole week off work, but I assured her I could manage on my own. My anticipation built thinking about po–boy sandwiches, Cajun music in the French Quarter, and a hot new dance club in the warehouse district. Already I felt the monster grow tame, distracted by the prospect of nice, normal human–type activities.

“So … tell me about this guy you’re running away from.”

Darci’s inquiry jolted me out of my happy space. Irix. Thick sable–brown hair that fell to his shoulders in back and brushed his jaw in the front, dark, golden eyes that seemed to see right under my clothing. He moved like a large cat on the prowl, and his smile held a promise of wicked carnal delights.

“He’s bad for me. And if I’d stayed, I would have wound up in his bed.”

“Oh, those are the best ones, aren’t they? Bad for you how? Because I’ve never known you to walk away from something bad.”

Only when it was something I couldn’t truly have. “He’s one of those guys who is completely addictive. I’d take it far more seriously than he would. I just don’t need that kind of emotional damage, thank you very much.”

Darci shot me a knowing look. “Oh, the tables have been turned! Amber, the queen of love–them–and–leave–them is in danger of losing her heart to a world–class womanizer.”

What? I was not that sort of girl! Well, I hadn’t been that sort of girl up until recently.

“I’m sorry I ever told you about that Zumba instructor from the gym. One guy does not make me a player.”

That’s when the problem began. I’d been so crazy about him, wanted him so bad. One date, one night of torrid passion, and it was all gone. I didn’t care if I ever saw him again. I couldn’t even remember what his name was. What I did have was the thin trickle of energy he’d supply me with for the rest of his life. And guilt. A whole lot of guilt.

Hot Read

Last Updated

Recommend

Top Books