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Cursed In Love A Dark Urban Fantasy Romance
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From USA Today Bestselling Authors Cora Kenborn & Dani René comes a brand new genre for this pair. A paranormal romance with a dark twist that will leave you on the edge of your seat!
Respect death and it will respect you.
Those were my mother’s last words, but she’s not the one called to crime scenes full of pissed-off spirits demanding justice. I’m a sensible homicide detective. Conversations with dead people were never in my job description until a string of murders rocks the French Quarter and dredges up a dark force wanting one thing—me.
I’m in over my head.
Unfortunately, help comes in the form of Odyn Broussard, a cranky, condescending pain in my ass. I’ve always heard it’s best to fight fire with fire. If that’s true, Odyn and I are about to ignite an inferno.
That’s what I should’ve told the pushy brunette who showed up on my doorstep demanding my help. Now, I’m fighting in a world I swore to never return to with Mila who claims she doesn’t believe in our gift. Against my better judgment, I’ll train and protect her, but I won’t give in to this dangerous attraction.
I’ll never make that mistake again.
I have to choose between protecting Mila or driving her into darkness. One will win the battle, and one will end the war. But there can only be one survivor.
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It’s late when headlights flash through the double windows in the living room. Standing in the hallway, I smooth a sweaty hand over my white cotton dress and jump as a low rumble of thunder rolls across the sky.
I have no idea how much time has passed while waiting to hear his heavy footsteps lumber up the front steps, but it’s long enough for me to pace the perimeter of the room six times.
I wring my hands as the door flies open. His six-foot-two inch frame hunches over, gripping the wooden molding as he stumbles inside, stopping cold when he sees me. “Mila?”
His tie is pulled loose, and his hair is even more disheveled than usual. My earlier suspicions are confirmed when I see his face. His nose is swollen and purple, the shape bent at an unnatural angle.
The scent of stale whiskey radiates off him in a nauseating wave I can taste.
“Where have you been?” I demand.
Eyes as rich as the earth’s soil glare back at me. “Out trying to numb the pain in my face. Someone has a nasty right hook.” His eyes scan my dress. “I see you decided to finally change clothes.”
He tries to move past me, but I block him. “Answer the question.”
He takes a purposeful step forward, and I step back. The tension between us crackles, and his jaw tightens. “I think the better question is, why did you break into my house? What the hell is wrong with you?”
What the hell is wrong with me?
My actions are riding on a picture I can’t get out of my head and a stranger. A stranger who may or may not have fed me a line of bullshit to get us both out of the way. Still, there’s guilt in his eyes, and it fuels my nerve.
“I know,” I announce, the confidence in my stance betrayed by the slight wobble in my voice. Clearing my throat, I take a step back, determined to not show weakness.
“Is that so?” He smiles. The asshole actually smiles, and a sliver of fear crawls up my spine. “And what is it that you think you know?”
“You‘re one of them.” I almost choke on the words, the taste of them as bitter as they sound.
His furious expression turns to stone, and his cold eyes bore into me. A few precious beats of silence between us break as he lunges forward and cups my cheek. Unforgiving fingers dig into my hair and jerk my head back. Refusing to show weakness, I wait for his muscles to tighten — a sure sign of what’s to come — but it’s his eyes that give him away, narrowing until only a dark void remains.
“You’re starting to act a little crazy, Mila,” he snarls, the smell of stale alcohol and fear making me gag. “You should probably shut your mouth before they find out and you end up like all the others.”
Horrific pictures flash through my mind, and I swallow back the bile crawling up my throat. He wants my fear, and the battle waging inside me almost gives it to him. Instead, I clamp down on my tongue. He can’t have my fear. It’s the only thing reminding me that a piece of me is still in there.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
A low growl rumbles in his throat, forcing a wall of panic to swell within my chest. Realizing my mistake, I brace for an impact that never comes. Instead, the corner of his mouth curls up in a chilling smile just before he turns his back to me. Only then do I realize it’s not whiskey swimming in his eyes. It’s the devil himself.
“Have a seat, Mila.” My eyes focus on his stiff and robotic steps as he makes his way down the hall. “It seems I have some calls to make.”
After the door to his office slams, I stand in silence. I don’t remember moving, but minutes later I find myself in the kitchen, holding an empty bottle of beta blockers in one hand and a glass of cloudy whiskey in the other. His words echo in my head as if he’s still standing in front of me.
“You’re starting to act a little crazy, Mila. You should probably shut your mouth before they find out and you end up like all the others.”
He’s both right and wrong. I’m not crazy, but when secrets are revealed, history repeats itself.
Just not today.
The amber liquid inside the glass turns my stomach, but I walk with a steady hand toward his office. Taking a deep breath, I drop the half empty bottle of Jack Daniels by the door and knock.
“I’m sorry. I brought you a drink to apologize.” As I wait in silence, I press my ear against the door, afraid he may have passed out. Unsure, I take two backward steps when the door swings open, revealing a pair of bloodshot eyes. He has discarded his suit jacket across the small leather couch and opened three buttons on his shirt, either getting comfortable, or ready to make good on his promise.