When a woman gets the first glimpse of her guy, sometimes she’s taken aback and sometimes she’s just…not. Then again, maybe she’s both? You know, something about him strikes her, but she doesn’t necessarily WANT it to.
Meet Jovon Dawson-Li, Seeker for the Vampire Council of Ethics…and she’s just met her match twice over. After you see what Jovon is up to, visit all the other Snippet Saturday authors via the links at the bottom of the post.
Seeker’s Solace, Vampire Council of Ethics Book Four
by TJ Michaels
Copyright 2013, All Rights Reserved
Coming September 2013 from Samhain Publishing
A voice caught her attention. It was a prime making his way around the room. He was a marvelous block of a man with a wild and strange energy about him. Even in her wiped-out, tired-to-the-bone state her brain still managed to pick him out of the bristling crowd.
The ropey muscle of his forearm was revealed by a three-quarter-sleeved silk mock turtleneck. Jovon’s gaze was pinned on that arm, watching the long, scarred fingers extend. She wondered what he did for a living that caused him to get scars like that, considering it was highly unusual for their kind to sustain any kind of lasting injury unless it was quite serious.
And look at that skin, she thought. Pale as fresh milk, yet it still held a warmth that made her want to dip her cookie in it.
Girlfriend, that’s just nasty. What’s wrong with you?
Jovon had no idea. She stripped her gaze away from the motion of those hands as they reached toward a person a few bodies away from her in a typical greeting.
She noted the smooth timbre of the man’s voice as he moved down the somewhat orderly, if a bit noisy, line introducing himself. He was two guys away from her now as he extended a handshake followed with a polite, “Nice to meet you, I’m Ambassador Krulm.” Krulm? Hmmm, she’d heard that name before but couldn’t remember the context just now. Her tired brain was in no shape to cooperate, so she let it go just now.
As he made his way closer, Jovon’s gaze slid up to… Oh my. His face. It could only be described as a decadent cross between fashion-model gorgeous and SWAT-guy hard ass. His hair looked corn-silk soft and was such a light shade it was somewhere between almost-silver and almost-white. She didn’t typically go for the military buzz cut on a man, not even when she’d been in the Marines, but this one sure pulled it off well. His eyes were as pale as his hair but held just a hint of blue.
Wait a second. White hair? Blue ice-white eyes? Damn. He was Clan Hatsept. Except for her Uncle Kenoe, Jovon didn’t think highly of any of those harem-hopping playboys. In fact, they were the only clan that still practiced such customs.
Just as the chamber doors opened, the man’s focus landed square on her. He extended his hand for a friendly shake and her hand froze midair on its way to meet it.
Wickedly white toothpaste-commercial-worthy fangs were fully visible. The sight of them gave her a falling-through-the-floor sensation. What made him bare those canines? Anger? Extreme feeling? Why was he…?
Oh, good grief, Jovon, stop being so silly. He’s a Hatsept, remember? They rarely sheath their fangs, if ever.
She didn’t know him from Adam, but Jovon found herself wondering if he kept a stable of females. She shouldn’t care, but for a reason that was impossible to pin down, she did. A lot. Without bothering to grip his hand, she mumbled a simple, “Nice to meet you too,” as she hefted her two duffels higher on her shoulders. Without a backward glance, she headed through the over-sized double doors and into the Council chamber.
The raised brow he sported as she strode away almost brought a smile to her face.
Yep. Tiredness, lack of sleep and food, and a possible-ho-humping Hatsept tended to bring out the bitch in a girl.
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