Carnal Whispers: Mind Stalker
Carnal
Series #3
By: Reily Garret
Releasing July
11, 2016
Self-Published
Self-Published
Blurb
To delve into another’s mind is to revel in the depths of truth, cringe in the face of past and imagined horrors, and suffer their dreams, all while searching for balance and serenity.
To delve into another’s mind is to revel in the depths of truth, cringe in the face of past and imagined horrors, and suffer their dreams, all while searching for balance and serenity.
Daniele is
a mysterious, gentle, and loyal young woman harboring knowledge capable of
destroying millions. Thumbing her nose at fate, she hides in plain sight while
concealing her extraordinary talent, enduring isolation despite her fantasies
of a normal life.
Marc, owner of the BDSM club, Ambrosia, is
determined to protect the elusive beauty stalked by a psychopathic killer.
Hidden underneath her vulnerability, he senses a courage and determination
forged from horrific circumstances. While adapting unique scenes to free her
from fear and low self-esteem, he strives to stay one step ahead of a branch of
the government answering to no one.
Each must
rely on the other to survive a world where betrayal and deception, desire and
trust, weave a fabric that threatens their sanity.
“No. I'm afraid you just missed her, but I
can schedule you for Monday morning if that's all right.” Though handsome, his
blatant interest didn't stir the heart-fluttering, chaotic beat associated with
Marc’s presence.
“Sure, darlin’. What time is good for you?”
Leaning over the bi-level counter allowed him visual access to her organized
space. “Ah…I see you read erotic romance. I have a sister that writes for a
large, New York publisher.”
Oh
hell. Her fingers couldn't
move fast enough to hide the book's cover, a leather-clad man handcuffing his
naked woman’s upper arms behind her back in front of a spanking bench. In her
haste to hide the cover, she inadvertently skid the book off the counter,
landing several feet to Marc’s side.
Where else would it land?
His swift reflexes resulted in scooping up
the offending material. After a quick glance at the cover, his head tilted back
and forth, as if judging the merits of the scene depicted and finding it
lacking in some specific way. Something inside her dictated he’d return the
book—for a price.
Fiery heat blazed up her neck to engulf her
face, becoming an inferno worthy of a three-alarm fire. His shaking shoulders
did nothing for her composure. Yeah, and
he owns the BDSM club thirty miles away.
“How about Monday morning at ten-thirty. Uh,
your name, sir?” After fumbling the appointment card twice, she placed it on
the counter and grabbed the nearby pen. Panic became a palpable pressure in her
chest. Perspiration dotted her forehead and spine between her shoulder blades.
“Clayton Hutson and that sounds great,
darlin’. I'll see you then…unless you'd let me take you to dinner tonight.”
“Sorry, Mr. Hutson, I’m busy tonight.” I think I’ll just call you slick.
“Well, how about lunch tomorrow?”
Something in his distinct and intense
scrutiny now scared her shitless, a foreboding she hadn’t endured for three
years. The prickling along her nape and arms never happened randomly. Blood
drained from her face to leave her shaken at the sight of his rough hands on
the counter, calloused hands that could wield a garrote with expertise. Could he be the serial killer responsible
for the recent murders?
The
fact he stood before her, overshadowing and transmitting such bad vibes ensured
she wouldn't feel safe for a long time, even if he just saw her as a sexual
conquest.
Under normal circumstances, discerning
someone's goals amounted to a simple exercise, whether honest or nefarious, but
Marc's overwhelming effect on her mindset obliterated her ability to pick up
slick's intentions.
A suggestive throat clearing transferred her
attention back to Marc, whose demeanor revealed no evidence of his earlier
carefree banter. “No, Hutson. She's with me.” His expression lost all signs of
levity as he crowded closer to her workspace, edging the other man out. “I'll
pick you up at ten a.m., Dani. Okay?” Darius's combination whine-growl elicited
a like response in the other dog. Each shepherd’s attunement to his master’s
emotions came as no surprise.
Hutson’s face broadcast a tangle of warning
signs she’d label aggressive if expressed in canine form, non-blinking, direct
eye contact, dilated pupils, hardened jaw, and a predator’s grin.
Her
well-planned intentions evaporated like seawater meeting magma, the haze
forming smothered the intricate workings of her mind. At this point, mangled
words were a useless commodity. She merely nodded.
“Right then. Have a good day, Mr. Hutson.”
Marc's conspicuous dismissal earned him a groan and insincere apology.
“Sorry, man. Didn't know she was taken. It’s
not as if she's wearing a ring or collar. Nice dog by the way. I watched him
track in his first trial. Good nose in bad weather and difficult cover.” His
calculating gaze bore into Marc as if gauging the likelihood of winning a
dirty, no-holds-barred fight; his shark’s grin hid nothing.
Hutson’s departure allowed Dani to draw a
slow lungful of toxin-purging air. “Thank you, Marc. He made me a bit nervous
for some reason.”
“Welcome. Any time. He kicked my sixth sense
into overdrive, too. You all right? You turned white as a sheet. Do you know
him from somewhere?” Darius whined and chuffed, pulling on his leash until Marc
let go. “What's up, boy? You never misbehave…”
Barreling around the counter to rub against
her thigh, Darius’ chest rumbled when Dani buried her face in the long hair at
his neck. “Aw, sweetie. It's all right. You're such a good boy.” His fur
smelled of oatmeal and vanilla shampoo, the same she used with dog baths in the
office. “I’ve never seen that guy before, but he gave me the creeps.”
“We'll hang around until you leave.” More a
command than offer, his statement, along with his expression, brooked no
argument.
“Thanks. Something about him…” The soft fur
against her cheek imbued a soothing calm, unattainable through any other means.
“Yeah, me too. Anyway, about tomorrow, give
me your address and I'll pick you up.”
“Oh. I thought you just said that to get me
off the hook with Hutson. You really don't need to bother.” Miles of blood
vessels conveyed scorching, liquid heat blazing a trail up her neck and across
her face. Intervention via reality proved to be a bitch. She stood no chance
holding her own with this man turned demi-god.
“No trouble at all. That way I can check and
make sure you’re all right.”
“How 'bout I meet you there.” The less
information she gave a man like this, the better. Dangerous in his own way,
Marc Crofton embodied thoughts of lust, dreams of bondage, large wooden X’s,
and unspeakable toys wringing out mind-blowing sensations. Like any man would want a girl like me.
“Ahh…I look forward to earning your trust.
Perhaps after a day at the trials, you'd join me for dinner.” He didn’t just
set the book down on her workspace, no, he had to make a meal of it, placing it
conspicuously then patting the cover.
“Oh, I-I don't eat dinner. Well, um, I eat
dinner but not on weekends. No. Actually, I don't go out on weekends…Well, I go
out….” Any minute, tears of humiliation would stain her cheeks. “I don't date.”
Crap, just shoot me now.
“That’s fine. I'm not ready for a date,
either. Good thing we cleared that up. We'll just grab a bite to eat. I'd hate
to keep you out all day and return you home tired and hungry, very bad
manners.” The look in his gaze spoke of insatiable appetites, steamy, erotic,
raw nights filled with breathless screams and creative, salacious undertakings.
Carnal whispers filtered through her mind, encouraged by her rich imagination
and curious nature to form a solid wall of longing buffeted by her
long-suffering, low self-esteem.
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Author Info
Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s
life after. The one enjoyed…after the kids are in bed or after they’re in
school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and
lapdog to give her imagination free rein.
In life, hobbies can come and go according to
our physical abilities, but you can always enjoy a good book. Life isn’t
perfect, but our imaginations can be. Relax, whether it’s in front of a fire or
in your own personal dungeon. Take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for
your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your
opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four
legged). Life is short. Cherish your time
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