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Writer's pictureBeth Mikell

Marked for Death Excerpt


Her hands slipped up his forearms, holding on for dear life. “Luke,” she rasped her mouth craving another taste of his mouth.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry. I can’t,” he said. “From now on, I’ll keep a professional distance.”

His words were like a slap in the face. Like icy cold and harsh. The storm broke and Sabene stepped back. Her breathing was rushed and heaving from his kiss, her face flushed. “So, what is this? I’m good enough to protect—good enough to kiss—but that’s it?”

His lips pressed together. “Sabene—”

She kept going, “I didn’t ask for any of this—including you manhandling me. I just buried my father, and you have a job to do. I agree with you. Keep a professional distance, Mr. Renan.” Sabene turned away, intending to walk back to the house, but steel hands spun her around, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Damn it, Sabene! I want you! I want you more than any woman. But there’s a crazy, sick bastard after you, and I can’t afford to lose my focus for one second. Do you understand?”

Still angry, Sabene pushed his arms off. “I got it, Renan! Loud and clear,” she said, turning to walk away from him, yet she threw on more comment over her shoulder, “Oh, by the way, I’m going back to the house, in case you want to babysit me.”



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