Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us by J. L. Doty Page A

I—”
    “No, no, no,” he said. “I didn’t mean bullshit on you. Bullshit’s my word. If you get to have motherfucker , I get to have bullshit .”
    She laughed, shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.” They both looked at the salt circle and it hadn’t scattered. She reached out carefully, and he saw the palm of her hand flatten as it pressed against the inside of the circle he’d set. “Very good! I guess the lesson is complete. Go ahead and break the circle. I have to get back to work.”
    He leaned back, grinned evilly and said, “I tell you what. You show me one of those tattoos, and I’ll break the circle.”
    Her eyes narrowed angrily. “I said I didn’t get any tattoos.”
    “That’s not what you said. You said you didn’t get any that you, and I quote, ‘couldn’t easily hide.’” He leaned a little to the side and leered at her ass. “Any tattoos that you can hide?” She blushed and he knew he was right. “Show me one and I’ll let you out.”
    She jumped to her feet, put her hands on her hips. “You listen to me, Conklin. This is extortion. I won’t stand for it.” She pushed irrationally at the circle, muttering a few well-chosen curses at him.
    Still sitting on the floor with her standing over him, he realized he wasn’t getting the reaction he’d hoped for, so he reached out and broke the circle. But at that moment she was pushing on it, and with her weight against it she toppled forward. Sitting there he looked up, realized what he’d done, leapt back to try to catch her, and she landed right on top of him. He let out a loud, “oomph,” as she knocked the wind out of him.
    Laying on top of him as he gasped for air she laughed. “Well, well, funny man. You got exactly what you deserved. That’s poetic justice if I’ve ever—”
    He shut her up by putting his hand gently behind her head, pressing his lips against hers and kissing her deeply. He didn’t have to force her, would never have done so. She groaned, closed her eyes, responding with an almost desperate need, their tongues dancing hungrily back and forth. It was a long, eager kiss during which her entire body responded and melted against him comfortably, warmly, passionately. But then she tensed, her eyes widened, she put a hand on his chest and pushed away from him. She scrambled off him, climbed quickly to her feet and backed across the room. “I’m not going to cross that line.”
    She turned and almost ran from the room.
    Paul picked himself up off the floor. “God damn it,” he said softly and headed for the door, hoping to catch her and apologize.
    ~~~
    Anogh traced the line of Taal’mara’s hip as she lay naked beside him, sleeping peacefully, lying on her side with her back to him. They were taking a chance meeting on the eve of the festivities of the equinox. But his hunger for the taste of her skin grew with each clandestine rendezvous, with each kiss, each session of their lovemaking. She was, after all, Unseelie, and the courtiers of the Winter Court were legend for their sexual proclivities, even more so than the Seelie Court, which had a reputation of its own. He was deeply ensnared in their love, though no more ensnared than she. They both knew they were taking too many chances, and had repeatedly sworn they would be more careful, see each other less frequently. But she had confessed that, like he, each moment they were apart was an eternity, and each day they shared together seemed but a blink in time.
    She sighed deeply, stretched sensuously and rolled over. “My love,” she whispered, then wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. And as his passion blossomed, he wondered again how they had come to be so foolish, wondered at how it might end, though deep inside a piece of him knew there was little chance it would end well . . .
    “Sir Anogh,” Ag called, bringing him out of his reverie. “You must join us . . . here in the present. Don’t you find the past a bit dated?” The