Hi everyone!  Here's a sneak peek at tomorrow's release, Enslaved by Fear.

Enslaved by Fear
Inherited Damnation, Book VII

For standing against her brother, Brigid McLaine is imprisoned within her home. All she wants is freedom and the ability to follow her dark nature. But captivity poses a greater threat in the form of her handsome guard, Micah Nelson. Day after day of confinement leads her down a treacherous path of desire she can no longer ignore.

When Micah befriended Brigid six years ago, he never imagined the woman who haunted his every fantasy would end up being the very same demon he's employed to guard. During the forced confinement, he comes to learn the softer, gentler side of the woman who is despised by her family--and he recognizes the fear that keeps her chained to her sire. As their bond strengthens and passion ignites, Micah str uggles to convince Brigid to confront her fears and escape her incubus father's dark designs.

Yet with the sabot of Litha so near, one of them must make a choice. Will Brigid find the ability to confront her sire once and for all and embrace the lightness in her heart--or will Micah find the courage to let go of the one thing he wants most? Brigid.


Chapter One

If Brigid McLaine had to spend another day breathing the stale air of her confinement, she’d rip off her guard’s handsome head and serve it to the wolves. It would be a pity really—Micah Nelson’s arrogantly sloping nose serving as a midnight snack. Or his soft sensual lips being used for anything other than the purpose they were made for. And frankly, the thought of those pale blue eyes as an appetizer made Brigid’s stomach churn. But four months of imprisonment within the stone walls of Sgàil na Faileas—supposedly her home—was more than enough. She was going mad, slowly but surely.

She squinted at the back of Micah’s head, annoyed by the casual way he lounged on the sofa and studied a book of incantations that he would use against her when she managed to override his most current means of binding. His bottled lager sat forgotten on the short table to his left, droplets of water coursing down the paper label to create rings in the finish.

If she dumped it over his head at least the monotony would lift.

Brigid sighed and dropped her bowl of crackers on the floor. Pottery shattered, breaking the silence. The sound was loud enough to make her jump, but Micah didn’t do so much as glance over his shoulder.

“What now, Brigid?” he asked with a touch of indifference.

She straightened her legs and stood, fully aware of the way Micah watched her in the gilt mirror over her stone hearth. She stretched. Took her time to elongate her arms, arch her back, and push her breasts ever-so-slightly forward. A smirk tugged at the side of her mouth as Micah’s gaze slipped down the length of her body.

“I’m bored.”

“You’re bored every day. You aren’t locked up for fun and games.” His gaze dropped to his book.

No, she was locked up for standing against her brother Fintan who chose to act against their incubus sire, Drandar. A demon Brigid feared more than any spell Micah could ever cast. Not that Micah’s powers were weak. Her father’s were simply horrific. She rolled her eyes, stepped over the shards of pottery, and crossed the room to the couch. Bending over the back, she dipped her mouth to Micah’s shoulder. Close enough he could feel her breath on his exposed neck but not yet touching. “I’m tired of outthinking your magic. Let’s do something…” She dropped her head a fraction more and grazed his skin with her lips. “Else.”

Something like tangle up the sheets in her bed or find a new use for the ragged old couch. Anything to break the sexual tension that had been building between them for years. Not only had four months of imprisonment grated on her nerves, spending that time with the one man who’d been playing games with her libido ever since she met him, was driving her out of her mind.

Micah’s body stiffened. The pen he used to jot notes in the book’s margins stilled. His knuckles went white. “Just what did you have in mind?”

Brigid smiled as she slowly lifted her head. Her gaze locked with his in the mirror. Torturing Micah was surely a better alternative than throwing his head to the wolves. “I don’t know. Chess?” Sarcasm laced her words. She leaned on her elbows and drew a fingernail down the length of Micah’s neck as she lowered her voice to a husky murmur. “What sounds good to you?”

Micah abruptly leaned away, but made no other outward sign she affected him. “What sounds good to me is finishing this book.”

Uh-huh. Sure. She didn’t buy it for a minute. When he’d come out of his adjoining room with that book in hand, it had sounded so compelling that he put off reading for small talk until she caught him hungrily appraising her shorts-clad legs. Then he beat a hasty retreat to the couch.

Where he’d been watching her in the mirror when he thought she wasn’t aware ever since. Problem being, Brigid was aware of every instant Micah’s attention shifted to her. Four months of living together deepened the connection of six years of friendship. Sometimes, she’d swear she could hear his thoughts. More often, her skin prickled like a warm sunshine bath when his thoughts and attention honed in on her.

She knew he shared the same awareness. Oh, he tried to hide it, but Micah might be able to bar her from the outside world, but he couldn’t bar himself from her. He wasn’t as immune as he wanted her to believe.

She laughed softly and rounded the edge of the couch to fold one leg on the cushion beside him. As she sat, she leaned against his muscular arm. The side of her breast brushed his bicep, and a streak of pleasant fire surged up her spine. “So how many times have you read,”—she paused as she glanced at the book—“page 28? Three?” Deliberately she trailed her hand up his thigh. “Or more?”

To her delight, Micah’s muscles bunched beneath her palm. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth. Satisfaction thrummed through her. Maybe, just maybe, she could use this to her advantage. Not only might she find some relief from the ever-present ache of wanting him, but if she played him right, he might also neglect to strengthen the wards that kept her from leaving the trio of rooms and opening windows. She could run. Be free of this Scotland castle. Free of her brother Fintan’s happiness.

Free to follow the dark instincts that ran in her blood.

“Micah, I can think of better entertainment than that book.” As casually as she could, she dipped her fingers into the crease of his jeans at the juncture of his thigh.


Tune in next week to see how Micah reacts!


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