Welcome to a some cool fun for a hot Sunday. To celebrate the release of Blind Heat, the second book in my Pantherian Passions series, I've set up a little game related to the story.
Our hero, Marcus St. Germaine has a habit he hasn't been able to kick. At the start of Blind Heat he gives into temptation and this time it gets him into trouble. I'll be sharing the first chapter in blog posts throughout the day. At the end of each post, I'll show you a picture and tell you the name of the blog where it's hidden. Simply email Master Bond ( the kinky French Chef from The Dungeon Gourmet) lemarquis.debond on gmail.com telling him where you found the picture. For every correct answer you send in, you'll get your name in the hat. The prize is your choice of my backlist:
The Tiger's Tale (First book in the Pantherian Passions Series)
The Dungeon Gourmet
Snatch Me
I'll announce the winner Monday morning on the Words, Women, Wisdom blog.
Happy Hunting and good luck. I'll be checking back throughout the day, so if you have questions, leave them in the comments and I'll be along shortly with an answer.
Blind Heat: Excerpt 3
A grim smile tugged his lips. He wouldn’t invest any hope in promises.
He needed all his energies tuned to the task at hand. Using water rather than a mirror portal to travel from one place to the next was a skill few Pantherians achieved. It required more concentration than most had the patience for.
The water gleamed in the pool surrounding him, and he refocused, his mind imprinting an image of the place he intended to go on the surface. When the vision was fully formed he stepped out onto the water, hovering for a moment before melting away below the surface like the snowflakes that swirled and vanished behind him.
He rematerialized just below a manhole cover in the basement of the lab. He’d meant to resurface at the edge of the wood that bordered the parking lot. Inaccuracy was especially problematic through a source in constant motion, like water. The stream was channeled under the building through a concrete culvert. He hadn’t landed where he planned, but he’d probably landed at the easiest place to gain entry unnoticed.
He pressed his palms to the cover, greasy moisture beaded on the surface made him want to pull his hands back, wash them clean. Darkness concealed whatever might be floating in the inky liquid lapping at his chest. Nothing could conceal the odors of mold and rot so intense he could feel them seep into his pores.
Resisting the urge to hurl himself upward out of this tight space with its slimy walls, his senses tuned to the security guard in an office near the front door. Dipping into the man’s mind was like walking into a bedroom unannounced. That was no security report he was working on at his computer. Marcus could see through the man’s eyes, black letters taking shape in a tiny box on the computer display. Come on, sugar, turn that webcam on and let me see your pretty smile. You can trust me.
The guard was thinking—Am I rushing her? Will she think I’m a jerk?
There was no other human presence in the vicinity. Marcus tuned him out and worried about security cameras as he pushed up. The cover gave under pressure and slid back, the ring of metal grating over concrete reverberated softly in the open space above him. Marcus chinned up and did a quick survey. Concrete floors, pallets stacked with cardboard boxes, steel drums and sacks of what smelled like animal feed. No security cameras in evidence here, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be electronic eyes beyond the warehouse area.
Cold set his teeth chattering. Enough worrying. He had to do it or go. He pushed up and stood dripping on the concrete, raking water from his hair with numb fingers, stamping his feet to regain feeling in his legs. When he looked down he went still, startled by the long, narrow print of bare foot, a damp stain on concrete. Squatting, he slid the manhole back in place and considered the options he should have considered before he came leaping to the rescue.
Security cameras recording images of a human produced an identifiable intruder to track down. Human bodies were poorly equipped to handle wet and cold at once. A dripping, naked man would leave tracks all over the place. Odds were the guard would know these scientists did animal research, but not necessarily what types of animals were in residence. If he discovered Marcus and thought him an escaped experiment, he’d hesitate to harm a leopard as long as he didn’t feel directly threatened.
Shifting was the only option.
He was close enough now for his keen ears to hear the hybrid’s cry with more than his mind. Above him, just two stories up, her keening set the other furred inmates to restless stirring and scuffling. The sounds faded with his body as Marcus went transparent and moved to the next dimension to gather his energy as a leopard and return.
Could he count on cybersex to hold the guard’s attention for the ten minutes or so he needed to get in and out?
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Find these cuties at PassionsPortal.com (Website for a new series I'll be contributing to)
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