A land rich with history, spirits and danger. A woman determined to connect with her past. A man desperate to find his place in the present.
Once the Land Of Burned Out Fires belonged to the Modoc Indians, but they lost it to white man's greater strength. The lone survivor of that battle has been brought back to life by a woman's presence, the one woman he should want nothing to do with. But sex is a powerful force. Their explosive need mirrors the ancient volcanic activity that shaped this harshly beautiful area--but they aren't alone. There are people looking to cash in on the past.
Now it's a race to see whether the Last Warrior will survive to claim his mate or if his sacred land will again be exploited for the white man's greed.
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Ellora's Cave Publishing, Incorporated
November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Danger's Embrace by Vonna Harper
A savage. Savage.
The word slid inside her, solid and yet misty like a vivid dream that fades upon awakening. But if she was asleep, this was one dream she didn't want to leave.
She stepped over the rock, freeing herself from the dance ring's confinement, not so she could run but because--
Because her legs had decided to walk toward him.
He didn't move. She would swear to that. And yet he kept changing. It was, she realized, the way the sun greeted him, lent light to his dark flesh and made his long ebony hair glisten. From this distance, she couldn't say how old he was. Still, if the truth was in his broad shoulders, the flat plane of his belly and the way he carried himself, he was in his prime.
Prime. Savage. Warrior.
There wasn't enough air at the Land Of Burned Out Fires. She should demand he return it to her, but maybe--probably--the fault lay in her.
She moved closer because the need to touch him, to look into his eyes, to feel his hands on her was like an explosion inside her. She should demand he explain the impossible, but if she spoke, he might evaporate, and she had to stretch out this moment until it became enough to last a lifetime.
Naked bodies locked together. Fingers dragging over flesh. Teeth raking. Her legs gaping open and her pussy filled. Sex scent making her drunk. Clinging to the male fucking her.
One step, two, three and still he remained. He had a scar over his right shoulder blade. The fine hairs on his arms and legs were as dark as the back of Captain Jack's cave. His thighs--the loincloth exposed every inch of them--looked as strong and durable as the lava. Gathering herself, she let her gaze rest on the telltale bulge under his single garment. Her mouth dried. He could take her places she'd only imagined, awaken something that could only be filled by sex--raw sex.
The air was gone again. She had to fight to breathe. The effort snapped something deep inside and reminded her of who and where she was.
This man couldn't be. He couldn't!