An excerpt from Lover’s Talisman
2008 (c) Copyright Ashleigh Raine

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The distant sounds of a shout and crash brought Twyla back to awareness. Only a sliver of light crept under the opaque fabric covering her eyes. She lay on some sort of long, flimsy cot, with no blanket or other coverings that she could tell. Luckily, the air was cool, but not freezing. Wherever she was, it sure smelled musty and weird like her taxidermist grandpa’s basement. She moved her head, trying to dislodge the blindfold, but the damn thing stayed firm.

A coarse rope chafed her wrists, wrapped around them so tight her knuckles tingled. Some sort of strapping bound her ankles loosely together. They felt similar to soft manacles, but she didn’t think that was what they were. She shifted and pulled, trying to slacken any of her bindings, the sounds echoing like there was very little else in the room. Her arms were secured over her head. Her ankles weren’t tied to whatever she was lying on, but she couldn’t spread her legs wide enough to get her feet on either side of the cot.

She went to swing her legs off one side, seeking the floor, but sharp pain burned along her upper left arm and shoulder, making her gasp, jogging her memory of the attack, the most likely reason she’d landed in this mildewy dungeon. How long had she been here? Was that only this morning?

Ready for her presentation, she’d carried her briefcase, necklaces and drawings out to her car. Her arms were full, but she still walked with a bounce in her step and a swing to her hips, knowing that she was going to kick some ass and get a deal with the jewelry distributor. She had the ideas and the designs plus an outfit no heterosexual male could take his eyes off of. Her low-cut semi-transparent gray blouse, black lace bra and shorter-than-short red skirt paired with red three-inch stiletto heels was her good-luck outfit. With her fan-damn-tastic designs and a little simmering sexuality, she would get the account, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

Hearing a growling sound near her car, she’d assumed that the neighbor’s dog, Charlie, had gotten out to take his morning piss. Charlie snarled at everyone, and then gave them a tongue bath when they acknowledged his welcome. Twyla didn’t have time for the bath and the subsequent shower she would have to take to remove the doggie stench, so she ignored the growl.

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back on the driveway, surrounded by everything she had been carrying. Her arm burned as she struggled to sit up, and blood seeped through the shredded layers of her blouse. She peered up into a face out of her nightmares—glowing red eyes, fangs and a man’s body covered in thick hair. He lumbered closer and she opened her mouth to scream, but his hand—or was it a paw?—muffled the shout. He flung her over his shoulder and began a loping run. The searing agony in her arm had become unbearable and coupled with the loss of blood, she’d slipped into unconsciousness.

Until now.

Testing her bonds again, she moved from side to side, desperately trying to loosen them. Nothing happened. Her wrists were definitely tied to whatever she was lying on. The harder she tugged, the more the frame of the cot squeaked underneath. She cursed and kept up the rocking motion, gritting her teeth at the burning in her shoulder. There had to be a way to loosen her binding. She’d always been flexible and her strength came from running along the beach as well as hard sex. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Especially since the creepy bastard that took her had made her miss her appointment. He would pay for that alone.

At the sound of voices, she froze, straining to hear what they were saying.

“You fucked up. You grabbed the wrong girl. You will make this right.” The voice was deep, demanding respect. Twyla instantly hated the man behind that voice.

“I’m sorry, sir. The necklace carried her scent. It was my mistake. There were two scents on the necklace and I chose incorrectly. I will find the correct woman immediately.”

“I want her here. Tonight. Stephan has found the woman. Time is of the essence. We must move quickly to bring the Shadow Walkers to their knees. Do not fail me again.”

The conversation paused and Twyla continued her struggles, bending the fuck out of the cot frame, but not breaking it. Shit. They had to be looking for Mariah. She was the only other person who had handled the necklace. Did this have something to do with the bitch who’d attacked Mariah last night? What kind of trouble had Mariah gotten into?

And what kind of person found someone using scent? Who the hell were these people?

Twyla paused again when a third voice entered the conversation.

“What should we do with her? I’ll kill her if you’d like.” That voice was cool and calm, and Twyla believed that he wouldn’t hesitate to destroy her. Fear feeding her actions, she resumed her attack on the binding, even raising her ankles toward her hands, but the rope was so tight, she’d lost too much feeling in her fingers in order to use them.

The same deep voice from before answered. “She’ll stay alive until we have the other girl. If Ivan can’t bring her in, we have this one for leverage. Besides, look at the way she struggles. She’s feisty. I like that.”

Twyla flopped her legs back onto the cot and craned her head toward the voice, determined to show the man that she wasn’t scared.

Fuck them.

Fuck them all. Those assholes had no idea what she was capable of.

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EXCERPT: First Kiss
EXCERPT: Mariah Meets Stephan
EXCERPT: Confrontation