[Apocalyptic 01] • Apocalyptic Mojo

The Epoch Mages and the Sorceri Bounty Hunters are ALWAYS on opposite sides of any issue. They H-A-T-E each other. But when a rogue witch decides to take over the world using flesh-eating zombies, Ardith and Draigh have to work together to stop her. And though they’ve twisted themselves inside out trying to deny their blistering desire for each other, they soon learn they’ll need to work together to accomplish what many before them have failed to do. Yep, it’s all gonna be downhill from there!

* * *

He stood where the Elders left him, rigid with anger, his gaze cast down toward the floor, his fists clenched.

She watched him in silence, reveling in the amount of anger filling the six-and-a-half-foot frame. Like her familiar, he vibrated with it.

Her gaze slipped over him, starting with the thick mop of glossy, silver-blond hair on his head, then crossing the massive chest, bulging arms, tree trunk-sized thighs and sharply cut calves. His huge feet were encased in scuffed black leather boots.

He was a brute. A monster. A human-shaped bloodhound with the manners of a Neanderthal.

She hated him.

H-A-T-E-D him.

But her body seemed to like him some. Her thighs tightened when she looked at him. Her nostrils flared to pull in his scent. She told herself he was interesting in a purely physical way. Just a giant, well-shaped pheromone wafting her way.

Fortunately she’d carved a lifetime from the practice of self-denial.

“If you’re done pouting we should get going.”

For a beat he seemed not to have heard her. Probably because of all the blood rushing through his brain as his rage turned him to jagged rock. Then slowly, very slowly, he turned his head in her direction and she had to fight the urge to step back.

His icy-blue gaze pierced the distance between them. Surprisingly dark eyebrows lowered in a menacing glare. His perfect lips curled with distaste.

“Must you dress like a harlot?”

She snorted. The caveman had a dress code. “We’ll be travelling to the twenty-second century. This is how the females in that time dress.”

“I have spent time in that century. I am well aware. But not all women dress like hookers.”

She pulled off the robe and flung it to the ground, her only thought to annoy him completely. “Despite your surprisingly puritan sensibilities, this attire gets me around the places I need to go. If you don’t like it, don’t look at me.”

“I assure you that will be no problem.”

She snorted again, heading out of the chambers. “Come along, dog. You too, Sirius. Time’s awastin’.” She was pretty sure that wasn’t Sirius growling behind her as she headed for the portal in the lowest floor of the council building.