Dark Waters of the Heart
Dark Waters of the Heart
by Iona Brodie
Genre Paranormal Erotica
Tags Adult Content, erotica, romance, horror, paranormal, sea, Scottish myths, Scottish legends, contemporary
Imprint Wild Darkness Calls
Release October 7, 2014
Content Editor Susan Davis
Line Editor Greta Gunselman
Cover Designer Shirley Burnett
Words 10413
Pages 38
ISBN 978-1-77127-607-8
Price $2.50
Back Cover
“There’s things that lurk in the water that neither you nor I would want to be meeting.”
The village of Gean Bay seems like a tedious place for Alex to be sent on a reporting job. Yet behind the postcard perfect veneer she quickly discovers the danger lurking in the water. Dark, seductive, utterly alluring, but deadly.
Common sense dictates that Alex finish her story and leave. Yet lust compels her to stay…
Excerpt
“Are you all right?” A broad, Scottish burr, deep and rough, an exaggerated roll of the r’s but definitely tinged with concern. The black outline appeared stark against the watery sunlight, suggesting a bigger than average man with shoulder-length hair. The square jaw of the silhouette hinted at an attractive man.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” His words came across hinting at a tease, seeming more relaxed after she’d responded. “You looked like you really took a tumble.”
“I’m fine. Really.” She struggled to a sitting position and gasped, quickly covering it with feigned pain. “Just a little sore.” In the fading light he was a glorious vision. Dark hair slicked back from a classically chiselled face dominated by an aquiline nose. His harsh outline was coloured with the softest pastels, eyes of a startling green and full lips of soft pink with an exaggerated cupid’s bow. He wore a wetsuit pulled down to the waist, and his torso could have been carved from marble, such was its perfection. Only the dark trail of hair tracing a path from navel to somewhere far more interesting betrayed the fact that he really was flesh and blood. He was dripping wet, and she could only look on in speechless, unfettered desire at the rivulets of water pooling on his chest.
Suddenly aware that she was staring, Alex tried to scramble to her feet. His arm caught her easily and lowered her to the ground just as her legs gave out.
“Easy, lass, you looked like you took a knock to the head in that tumble. Better sit still a moment until we know there are no after effects.” She nodded, slightly light-headed. He manoeuvred her so that she was propped upright with her back against a large rock.
She mindlessly stared into the green of his concerned eyes and saw her reflection there, dark hair loosed from its ponytail, cascading around her head in a halo of curls. She fancied that she could see the sea, the frothy impetuous spit of the surf as it crashed to shore, along with sensing the dark, dark peace below. In his eyes her hair became seaweed, floating with the tide. Whether it was the bang to the head or her fanciful brain, those amazing green eyes drew her in completely, almost as if they were a pool that she could simply stand up and dive into.
The shrill haunting shriek of a seabird shocked her from her reverie. The man sat down on the rocky ground beside her and was smiling with the enigmatic air of the Mona Lisa.
“So,” she said, suddenly embarrassed by her staring. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Nokken,” he said, almost apologetic, glancing down at his long, white hands. “I was fishing.”
“Nokken? What a strange name.”
“It’s Norwegian.” He eyed her with expectation, clearly expecting her to reciprocate.
“Oh, sorry. I’m Alex, and I was here taking photographs.” Well, she had been taking photographs. The camera was gone from around her neck, and she patted the coarse grass around her to look for it. “I think I must have lost my camera.”
“You mean this?” Nokken produced the battered but apparently unbroken camera from behind him.
“Oh wow, thank you!” Instinctively she reached out to give him a grateful hug, however, pulled back almost immediately from his wet mass.
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “I’ve just come out of the water.”
“That’s okay. Are you out here alone?” She peered around the shore in the now half-light, looking for a companion. A small irrational part of her brain desperately hoped that there was no female companion lurking in the vicinity.
“Yes.”
“And you were fishing, alone?”
“Yes.” He didn’t appear to have any desire to elaborate on his position, and dazed as she was, Alex had little in the way of small-talk to move the conversation along.
“Okay, well I better get back if I want to get something to eat before the pub closes.”
“You’re staying in Gean Bay?”
“Yes.” A moment’s indecision seemed to flash across his face, yet it left almost as soon as she noticed, his face returning to a placid mask of mild amusement.
“I like you, Alex. Will you come back tomorrow?”
“Oh.” She was a little taken aback by this unexpected offer. “Well, tomorrow is the Samhain, and I’m kind of covering it for a newspaper.”
He stared at her, cocking his head to one side in question. “So, you understand the importance of Samhain?”
“Yes. It’s when kids dress up and trick or treat and I get sent to crappy little towns to write stories.”
Nokken laughed, and then grew serious. “It wasn’t always like that. Historically it is something much darker, a festival denoting the beginning of the darker half of the year. A time when harvest and light are over and animals fattened during the summer are slaughtered to provide a food source for the winter.” He looked at her with a growing intensity.
She swallowed, noticing her mouth became suddenly dry. Put like that, Samhain sounded a little more sinister than some childlike games. His penetrating gaze drew her in, like a dazed bunny hopping toward dazzling headlights. Assuring herself that she was being silly, she shook the sensation off with a physical shudder.
He seemed encouraged by her reaction and continued. “It is a dark festival steeped in tradition. It is said that on the Samhain, the veneer between the natural world and the supernatural world is at its very thinnest.”
