Hello, kittens! This week is very special, not just because it’s nearly Halloween (the Belle’s favorite holiday), but because the 2nd book in the Phoenix Rising series is out on Thursday, Oct. 26th! I wanted to give you guys a sneak peek at what you can expect from this 2nd installment by posting a little bit for your reading pleasure.
In this little blurb, Phoe is attempting to escape from a dangerous captor, Mr. Smith. She’ll use her feminine wiles to set the honey trap, but will he fall for it? And is Mr. Smith all that he seems?
“Dance for me as you did before, little firebird.”
“There is no music,” she said.
“Close your eyes. You can hear it down below.” She did hear music coming from the great hall somewhere beneath them. A strange melody with a heavy, sexual rhythm. “Hear it, little one?”
Phoebe nodded, opening her eyes.
“No. Keep your eyes closed. Feel the music, don’t listen.”
“Come closer,” Smith commanded, rising from the chair and moving toward her.
There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room as Phoebe took in the size of the man. He could crush her head easily with one of those enormous hands. He wore a fitted black tuxedo that looked so out of keeping for a man of his size. He looked like a bully cartoon character come to life. When he stood before her, his shadow completely obliterated her form. He pulled off the silk bowtie around his neck and Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat. Her fear almost got the better of her, but she stood firm. “When you feel the music, your body is free.”
Phoebe didn’t understand what he meant, but he reached around and tied his bowtie around her eyes. It was tight and completely blinded her. She started to panic, but then something…there was something so familiar about his scent. It was clean and woodsy and spicy. And masculine. God help her, the corners of her jaw ached and her mouth watered. “There. That’s better.”
Phoebe could hear his footfall as he paced around her. She could imagine his eyes scanning over her body, taking in every inch of her. Part of her wondered what he was thinking as he watched her here in the dark. Was he aroused? Incensed with a lust for her blood? The stories she’d heard from the other geisha didn’t seem to fit with this person.
“Now dance. Dance for me, geisha.”
The programming sequence immediately flooded her brain with information. Phoebe could almost see the code flash in front of her eyes. It was commanding her body to move and she found herself obeying, listening to the music downstairs. She was slow at first, simply swaying to the rhythm. Then she circled her hips in time to the music, sliding her hands across her midsection. She imagined that it was Cage sitting in that chair watching her; his eyes cataloguing every turn of her wrist and pop of her hip.
“Very good, little one. Very good. Now turn for me.”
Phoebe did as she was told, turning away from Smith as she stretched her arms out to either side. The gauzy folds of fabric parted and she could feel the cool air against her skin. She should be embarrassed, but whatever they had done to her brain had deadened her inhibitions and she reveled in her nakedness.
“Don’t you want to dance with me?” she asked. Her voice took on a deadly timbre and her heartbeat slowed. Phoebe could hear Cage’s voice in her head, reminding her that fear was good, but panic would get her killed. Right now she needed Smith close. Her first kill would be intimate.
“I don’t dance,” Smith replied.
Phoebe giggled and twirled, pulling the long pin that held her hair in place, letting the piles of curls spill down over her shoulders. “Everyone can dance,” she teased. “You just have to move your body.”
“Why don’t you move your body over here.”