A little preview for upcoming book Tempt Me from Berkley Heat out in November. Its the sequel to Possess Me.


EXCERPT

“Care for another, angel?”

Gabriel nodded at the bartender, ignoring the blatant invitation in her eyes.

Angel. His smile was rich with self-mockery. If he’d ever been one, he’d fallen long ago.

The sexy blonde turned to refill his glass with amber ale, and the sight of his own reflection in the beveled mirrors made him wince. It had been a while since he’d seen himself. Too long, apparently. The first description that sprang to mind when he did was pathetic drunk.

Was this who he really was, then? Gabriel Toussaint Giodarno—just another lost soul?

Whoever it was he was glaring at needed a shave. Rough shadows framed a sharp jaw, accentuating cheeks that had hollowed out in the last year. A diet of beer, scotch and shame would do that to a man.

His dark hair curled around his ears and along the nape of his neck—the first time he’d let it grow out since he was sent to Catholic school at the tender age of nine. His heavy-lidded green eyes were bleary with exhaustion, and—his gaze narrowed—the skin around his left eye was still tinged with yellow and blue from his encounter with that angry biker last week in a Tupelo bar.

Nearly all traces of his old reflection were gone. He was gone.

“You look like Hell, Gabe. As usual.”

Shit. He knew he was drunk, but he hadn’t realized he’d had enough to start hallucinating again. He pushed his beer away and tapped on the glossy wooden counter. “Any coffee in this place?” Or even better, some holy water?

The man beside him sighed. “I was hoping you’d head to Mambo Toussaint’s or Michelle’s instead of the nearest tavern. Why you keep gravitating to these shadow-filled places, I’ll never know.”

“Look, guy, I told you—those shadows aren’t real,” Gabriel muttered, keeping his eyes straight ahead and his voice down so the bartender wouldn’t think he’d gone off the deep end. “You aren’t real. Not a man. Not a ghost. Remember? I don’t do that particular parlor trick. All the woo-woo genes went to my sister. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”

He lowered his head tiredly and shoved his hands through his hair. “Shit, why didn’t my broken brain concoct a hot, breathy blonde to follow me around instead of a chatty, grungy man-child like you?” He sent said man-child a sideways glance. “I did what you wanted. I’m in New Orleans. Nothing has changed. Now run along, shut the hell up and leave me in peace.”

He looked up and noticed the bartender was watching him and no longer smiling suggestively. She slid a cup of coffee in his direction, the suspicious look in her eyes clearly retracting any invitation they might have issued earlier. Then she hurried toward the other end of the bar and the safety of her regular customers.

Gabriel smirked. He’d run too if he could. Hell, he’d tried. But he couldn’t escape the guilt that had kept him up nights, had become a demon that stalked him. He’d even started seeing shadows where there should be none. Watching those shadows notice him. Follow him. Press on his heavy heart and twist his thoughts until there were only three avenues of escape: fighting, fucking, or getting blackout-drunk. Sometimes it took all three for him to feel human again. To regain control.

Four months ago the game had changed, and his mind brought out the big guns. His new buddy here. His walking, talking, invisible conscience. There could be no doubt now that he had truly gone around the bend.

Gabriel grimaced at the first rich taste of chicory, and glanced at his imaginary friend. He had no idea where he’d dreamed the guy up. A man in his mid-twenties, with black hair that fell to his shoulders and blue eyes that were startling framed by dark brows and a swarthy complexion. He wore a long dark trench coat, dirty khaki pants and torn-up boots, looking like one of those disaffected adolescents Gabriel had silently scorned back when he’d been a globe-trotting, self-important businessman.

Had it only been a year ago that employees of his father’s investment firm had cowered in fear before him? That Gabriel had taken pride in being known as The Dark Messenger, the smiling bearer of bad news and pink slips? What an evil jackass he’d been.

Maybe he was finally getting what he deserved.

“I can practically feel that self-pity you’re wrapping yourself up in, Gabe. You’re more stubborn than your sister, and that’s saying something. Honestly, I have no idea why I got stuck with you.”

He’d gotten stuck? Ha. “I apologize for inconveniencing you. Even my hallucinations can’t stand me. There’s a certain poetry to that, don’t you think?”

“I’m not a hallucination, idiot. I’m real, with a name and everything. But you haven’t asked my name, have you? You haven’t asked about me, about the shadows—nothing. You need to stop fucking around, Gabe.” The young man pounded on the bar in frustration. “I never swore before I met you. You came back here for a reason. You need to find out what you are. You need to see your family. Tell your mother what’s been happening to you.”

Not who he was. What he was. Gabriel already knew what he wasn’t. He was no angel. No bon ange, like his twin sister who could see spirits. The one who had risked her soul for him, despite what he’d done to her. He was no loving son or loyal friend. And even though it felt like it right now, he was no ghost.

He wasn’t sure about anything anymore, not even why he’d come back to New Orleans again. Other than to shut his invisible stalker up. The one no one else saw. The one who could so conveniently appear and disappear at will.

If only Gabriel could disappear that easily, along with the memory of what he’d done—what he’d almost done—to Mimi. Michelle. His sister.

Djab. That was the name his mother had called the thing that had taken over his body last year. A dark entity, sometimes controlled by voodoo sorcerers she named bokors. Djab were wild spirits that, when left to their own devices, could wreak havoc on weaker humans.

Weak. That wasn’t a word Gabriel had ever associated with himself until it happened. How easily it had taken him over. He’d been angry at the awkward reunion with his mother, and when Michelle had shown up, injured and so distant, he’d blamed her. In his anger, he’d wished she’d been the one the priests had beaten, the one who’d been ripped from their mother and told everything she knew, everything she loved, was no longer hers. His need for vengeance had made him the perfect target.

Gabriel took a deep drink, the hot coffee scalding his tongue, his knuckles white around the porcelain mug. As if it were yesterday, he could recall the feeling of being trapped in his own mind, of screaming and shouting in disbelief as something else took over his body.

His hands tying up his sister. His mouth speaking words so offensive to his soul that he wished he could claw them out with his bare hands.

How could she ever forgive him for that? How could he forgive himself? He shook his head, coming back to the conversation. “I know what I am. And they are all better off without me. You can add delusional to the list of reasons why.”

“That does it.”

Gabriel nearly slid off his stool when the bartender appeared across from him once more and purred appreciatively, “Didn’t see you come in, lover. What can I get for you?”

He blinked. “What? Are you talking to me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not, silly, you’ve been here for hours. And I’m really glad you decided to have that coffee, by the way.” Then she looked over Gabriel’s shoulder and batted her eyelashes. “I’m talking to your cute young friend.”

He followed her gaze, then turned back to the bartender. “Who do you see behind me?” When she hesitated Gabriel leaned closer. “It’s important. Describe him.”

She tilted her head, her blonde ponytail swinging softly behind her. “O—kay. I see a sexy slice of cheesecake with dark hair and stunning blue eyes.” Her own eyes widened. “And he blushes? Oh, baby, what’s your name, what’s your sign and where have you been all my life?”

Black spots and stars blurred Gabriel’s view as he glanced back at the blushing figment behind him. The figment someone else had just described. She saw him?

He heard the bartender’s worried voice as if she were speaking through static. “Oh, damn. Listen, lover, if your friend is about to throw up or something, get him outta here. I’m the only one on tonight and I refuse to clean that up.”

Gabriel felt hands hoist him up as if he were weightless and drag him toward the back door that led to a narrow alley.

He pushed away and fell to his knees, retching. He leaned his head against the rough wall, a rasping laugh escaping his raw throat. “So this is what rock bottom looks like. I always wondered.”

“Congratulations, Gabe. As usual, you set a goal and you reached it. Your father would be so proud.”

Gabriel pulled himself up once more and turned, rage suddenly welling up inside him. “You don’t know shit about my father. But I just set another goal. If other people can see you that means you’re real. And if you’re real, I can kick your ass.”

The tall man’s lips quirked. “You can try. The shape you’re in? I think I can take you.” He crossed his arms and shook his head. “You used to be a believer, Gabe. Even when you couldn’t see me, when Mimi was the only one who could, you believed I was there. I never thought you’d turn out like this.”

He believed…even when Mimi could see him? “Who the fuck are you?”

His illusion’s hands rose up to the sky, as if in prayer. “Hallelujah. I think he’s finally waking up.” Unearthly blue eyes pierced him with their solemn expression. “The name is Emmanuel.”

Gabriel scoffed, but he felt the name like a kick in the chest, making it hard to breathe. “Emmanuel was a child. A ghost child. I told you. My sister has that gift. Not me.”

Emmanuel nodded. “You’re right. That isn’t your gift.” He shrugged. “But all the same, I am Emmanuel. How else would I know you cracked your tooth when you fell chasing after Ben and your sister in the back of my old house? The same day you told your father you were playing with spirits for the first time.”

Gabriel remembered. How could he forget? That was the day everything had started going to shit.

“If you’re Emmanuel, and I can’t see ghosts, then how can I see you?”

The younger man was suddenly right beside him, his expression tinged with pain and regret. They were emotions Gabriel knew well. “You can see me, Gabriel, because I am not a ghost. I’m no longer anything I was. And neither are you. But I’ve faced a few of my monsters. It’s time for you to face yours. You need to understand what’s happening to you, before you lose yourself completely to the darkness.”

This was some sort of twisted joke. Gabriel closed his eyes and saw a flash of a memory. Father Leon, the priest who had taken special delight in punishing him, tormenting him with images of his sister and mother burning in Lucifer’s inferno for eternity. Warning him that he would join them if he didn’t purge himself of his family’s evil. Warning him that he would be taken by the darkness.

Even then, there was a small part of young Gabriel who would have taken that punishment, would have burned, if only he could be with his family again. His mother. If only he could have been like his twin, Mimi. Special.

He felt like he was going to be sick again. This couldn’t be happening. He needed to get out of this cursed city. “Fuck the coffee. I need another drink. Maybe two.”

Gabriel took a step toward the bar’s back door, but Emmanuel was there before he could reach for the knob.

He shook his head. “Stubborn ass. This is for your own good.”

Gabriel saw Emmanuel pull back his fist and swore when it connected with his flesh. For a ghost he had a powerful right hook.

He was falling to the ground again, hearing Emmanuel before he hit the cobblestone pavement.

“You’ll thank me for this, Gabe. Eventually.”

Gratitude wasn’t on his mind as the hard ground jarred his bones. As his ears rang with the power of the physical blow he’d just received from his imaginary pest. No, it wasn’t gratitude causing the red haze of anger and pain to blind his vision.

It was the need for revenge.

As soon as he could get up again, Emmanuel would learn what everyone who’d ever gotten on the wrong side of Gabriel knew. Clichéd but true…

Payback was a bitch.

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