Jennifer Lyon - Sinful Magic: A Wing Slayer Novel

BLOOD MAGIC

Witchcraft, magic and dark curses take on a new twist in Lyons action-packed series launch. Where once this hero and heroine would have been allies, now they are separated by a blood curse. Their distrust and antagonism keep the dialogue snapping and the feel of treacherous passion inspiring. Keep an eye on this author and her series.

RT Book Reviews (4 stars)

A sexy and riveting paranormal adventure with so much to offer For a thrilling adventure sizzling with passion, intrigue and complexity, pick up Blood Magic and prepare to be absorbed.

Fresh Fiction

Jennifer Lyon writes an alluring tale, designed to draw the reader in, and makes it hard to withdraw from the storyline even after the last word in the book.

Bitten by Books

SOUL MAGIC

Lyon is back for the second installment of her promising Magic series as she digs deeper into the mystery of soul mirrors. By setting her romantic protagonists on opposite sides of a curse, she ensures sacrifices will be needed. Readers are in for a roller-coaster ride of danger and emotional drama!

RT Book Reviews (four stars)

A captivating paranormal romance a thoroughly enjoyable tale that you wont want to miss.

Romance Reviews Today

By Jennifer Lyon

BLOOD MAGIC
SOUL MAGIC
NIGHT MAGIC
SINFUL MAGIC

Sinful Magic is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original

Copyright 2011 by Jennifer Apodaca

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

B ALLANTINE and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

eISBN: 978-0-345-52009-8

www.ballantinebooks.com

Ballantine Books mass market edition: June 2011

Cover design and illustration by Jae Song

v3.1

For my sister, Carol

You shared your love of witches and dragons with me
and taught me that books are magical.

Love you, always!

This book was particularly hard to write. I love these characters more and more with each book, but capturing Key and Roxys story with mere words was immensely challenging. I had a team of people there to help me anytime I lost my way. I am hugely grateful to all of them, for this story could not have been written without them.

Thank you to my editor, Shauna Summers. Her revisions and suggestions were a driving force in helping me find the right way to tell this story. Huge thanks to the cover artist who created the cover for Sinful Magic, I think its stunning and perfect! Additional thanks to all the hard working dedicated folks at Ballantine who do so much behind the scenes work.

My agent, Karen Solem, who never wavers in her steadfast belief in me. Thanks, Karen!

A special thank you to my husband, Dan. You are the love of my life, and I could not have created a more perfect hero than you.

There are many others who were there for me each and every time I needed help with plotting, characterization, research, or just the reassurance that I could write this story. To all of you, my friends, thank you.

And most important of all, a heartfelt thank you to all the fans. It is you I think of each day as I write these stories. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

She was the image of sex.

Pure sex.

No, she was more than sex. She invoked wild feelings, untamed ardor mixed with protective

Shit, he didnt know! Kieran DeMicca kept drawing, desperate to reveal her.

Each line he stroked on the wall of his hotel room made his cock ache and harden. He was drawing beauty. Passion. Sensuality.

Normally he drew vigilante justice in bold charcoal splashed with red. That was his medium, his art, what he was famous for: Dyfyr, Dragon of Vengeance, exploding from the charcoal lines to spew his blood fury. Dyfyr had no restraint or moral boundaries; he only dealt in vengeance on behalf of those who couldnt fight back for themselves. He had a personal grudge against his sire, the demon dragon that had created him. That was what Key lived and what he drew.

Not this. Sweeping lines of sex and woman. Not a girl, not a lady, but a woman.

Still couldnt see her! Sweat ran down his back into the waistband of his jeans. He could see only the parts: the sweep of her shoulder, the curve of her waist, the sweet contour of her thigh, the heart-shaped face.

He had no choice, no ability to control what he drew. It came from his soul; he drew because he had to. Her breasts were full and spilling over her arm. She wouldnt let him see her nipples and that infuriated him. But then he captured the enticing curve of her hip, with the one thigh turned and shielding her mound.

Show me, damn it! he snarled, needing to see all of her.

She refused, but his attention was on her stomach now. She wasnt anything like the other women he drew. Her stomach wasnt cut to rigid muscles, but rather, she had a slope that made him want to press his face into the softness of her belly.

More sweat slid down his chest. The air was cranked up high, but the heat came from within.

From the woman. But it was more than lust. He drew to drain off the fiery heat of violence writhing within him, leaving him cold and empty. But every line of this woman created a reverse flow that made him burn with lust and made him feel. Wild feelings, possessive feelings, tender feelings.

Who was she?

Key picked up another pencil and unveiled her face.

Stroke by stroke.

And when he was done, his breath caught. Hed never seen her before. The dragon tat on his chest shifted in his skin. His entire body went tight with red-hot, fierce, ball-exploding lust. She appealed to the man in him on a visceral level. He wanted to protect her, screw her, and soothe her all at the same time.

Her tilted green eyes stared back at him and told the story.

Witch.

A shiver raced down his spine. Oh fuck! The witch appealed to something much darker within him, and a hell of a lot more dangerous. He was a witch hunter, cursed to crave the power in witch blood. If he killed a witch, his soul would be gone. Hed go rogue, turning into the murdering jackals his father, uncle, and half brother had been. Hed refused to let the curse turn him, fought it every day since puberty.

Was he losing the fight? Was that what made him draw her? A witch hed never seen before? Just looking at her fractured him, part of him desperate to stroke, pleasure, and protect her; another part wanting to destroy her by cutting her and letting the warm spill of her potent blood cool the burn of the curse on his skin.

His arm twitched, and when he looked down, he saw that he had picked up another pencil.