Sometimes it seems like Spring will never
come again. Sometimes the only alternative to living in inner darkness
is death. In the depths of winter, Ryan and Siobham will have to make
a choice; to help each other heal, or die trying.
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of a Voice That is Still...
The man stood beneath the ancient pine trees.
Watching. It was a miserable night; cold and wet. But he didn’t care
about that. He couldn’t really feel the cold, anyway. The anger flaming
inside him was hot enough to keep him warm. Hot as the fires of hell,
he thought, wryly. Which was fitting enough. He stared through the
window, eyes burning as they tracked Siobhan’s every move. He’d been
right about the need to come back here tonight and check up on her. It
looked like she was up to her old tricks again.“I bet you’d like to
think that, too, wouldn’t you, bitch?”
he whispered. “You’d really like to believe that was true, huh?
Wouldn’t you? Yeah, I know you would.”
Taste of Honey
He shuddered when desire seized hold of his gut and twisted.
The way the light shone on her face now, she looked just like an angel;
which was how almost everyone thought of her. How they’d always thought
of her. Saint Siobhan. The angelic. The compassionate. The guiltless.
But he knew her better than that.
He knew she’d been graced with the power to make ordinary men
act like devils. But he had been given something even better: the power
to keep her in line.
And it looked like it was high time she received another
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