Releases September 27, 2011

The Lords of the Underworld return in this enthralling tale of an immortal warrior determined to win and the beautiful seductress he can’t resist.

Possessed by the demon of Defeat, Strider cannot lose a challenge without suffering unimaginable pain. For him, nothing stands in the way of victory. Until Kaia, an enchanting Harpy, tempts him to the razor’s edge of surrender.

Known among her people as The Disappointment, Kaia must bring home the gold in the Harpy Games or die. Strider is a distraction she can’t afford because he as an agenda of his own – steal first prize, an ancient godly artifact, before the winner can be named. But as the competition heats up, only one prize will matter – the love neither had thought possible…

Excerpt:

In the kitchen—Kaia skidded to a halt, her heart banging frantically against her ribs. Strider. Gorgeous, sexy Strider. He sat at the pool table she’d plucked from his fortress her very first visit there and now used in the breakfast nook. Food was scattered in every direction, from bags of chips to cheese slices to candy bars.

He wasn’t looking at her, hadn’t even glanced at her, but he had stiffened when she’d stepped inside. “I figured that, since these things were here, they were acceptable for you to eat,” he said. “Which means I more than kept up with you. I outwitted and surpassed you.”

“Thanks,” she said dryly. How disappointing. The one time she wanted her man to forget he had a brain, he remembered.

She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms over her chest. Her stomach tightened, threatening to growl, but she remained in place, waiting. Only when he’d gotten a good once-over would she move.

“Kaia. Eat.”

“In a minute. I’m enjoying the view. You should give it a try.”

He tensed. “There’s a note from your sister on the fridge. She said she’s in the heavens with Lysander, and she’ll see you in four days for the games.”

“’Kay.”

“What games? Never mind,” he rushed out before she could reply. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. What perfume are you wearing? I don’t like it.”

Asshat. “I’m not wearing any perfume.” And she knew he loved it. He had a weakness for cinnamon, something she’d noticed while stalking, uh, hanging out with him. Within hours of learning that little tidbit, she’d stocked up on cinnamon-scented soap, shampoo and conditioner.

“Stop enjoying the view and come eat,” he said through clenched teeth.

He’d closed the blinds over the only window and flipped on the overhead light. Natural sunlight complemented her skin the best, but— Oh, who was she kidding, acting all modest? Any light complemented her skin.

“Kaia. Come. Eat. Now.”

Gods, she adored that authoritative tone. She shouldn’t. She should hate it—barbarians weren’t supposed to be attractive to modern women—but still, she shivered. “Make me.” Please.

Finally his gaze skidded over to her. He was on his feet a second later, his chair sliding behind him. His mouth floundered open and closed, and his pupils dilated. He licked his lips. He reached out to grip the edge of the table, his nostrils flaring as he fought to breathe. “You… Your… Shit!”

Every pulse point hammering, she twirled. She knew what he saw—rainbow shards dancing hypnotically over every inch of visible flesh, the blush of health and vitality…the promise of seduction. “You like?”

As if in a trance, he moved around the table and stepped toward her. Closed the distance…stopped just before he reached her and cursed.