Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance) by Bobbi Romans

she didn’t duck out of reach. Instead, she arched her back, thrusting them closer. In offering and a silent plea to give attention to the tight sensitized buds.
    His lips drew in one taut nipple until his cheeks hollowed from his intense pulls. Now it was her turn to ride the cusp of no return as her pace quickened. Damien, even with her atop, managed to pump his hips in timing with hers. Frenzied and impatient, they rode each other with complete abandon, not caring who might hear the commotion. She didn’t care anymore about being cautious. She wanted the release only Damien could provide.
    “Need … more … control,” Damien rasped before in one quick move he’d flipped them so her back now lay against the silken spread and Damien hovered above her.
    Her knees locked about his waist as she relinquished her control and Damien released his beast to play. Ferocious, rough and wild. He pistoned with increased tempo until the only sounds that could be heard over their gasps and groans were the twacks of flesh slapping flesh.
    “Grace … mine!” Damien roared above her as he came, triggering her own release.
    Later when they’d come down from the high, he reluctantly withdrew so they could shower and redress before the others arrived. She hated putting the same clothes back on, but hadn’t planned on being here for more than just the anticipated meeting. Reconnecting like she did with Damien had been just what the doctor ordered after such a strenuous and testing day, but Grace still couldn’t shake the bad vibe she’d carried with her. The same one she’d had at her shop.
    And she was smart enough to recognize a bad omen when it slapped her in the face. Which it did a few hours later when she startled awake to being lifted out of the bed. Large rough hands had her pinned and the tacky feel across her mouth slammed home the realization she’d slept through her mouth being duct-taped. She hadn’t even had a chance to kick out for Damien before a cloth came down over her face and the lights went out.

Chapter Thirteen
    Damien came to awareness with a pounding head and body that ached as though someone had used it as a punching bag. Shifters, even those only magical cursed as such, didn’t get sick like average humans. Though many years had passed since he’d been wholly mortal, he rather remembered the flu being about like this. His last thoughts were of agreeing to stay one more day, followed by curling around Grace. Her sweet scent lulling him into a dreamless sleep.
    He forced himself to roll to his side, keeping the moan that accompanied the action as quiet as possible. He stretched his limbs, expecting to find Grace and hoping a little cuddling, or more, would take the craptastic feeling away. Only his hands ran across cool silk instead of a warm body.
    “Grace?” Damien sat up and listened for sounds from the bathroom, figuring she’d gone to grab a shower.
    Silence.
    “Grace?” A bit louder this time hoping she had her head wrapped in a towel that muffled his calls.
    Panic punched him harder than the urgent waves of nausea as he sprang from the bed to the bathroom. The white stone room was immaculate. Not a drop of water in the shower or moisture in the sink. No one had used the bathroom since he and Grace had the evening before.
    He checked the chair where she’d folded and left her clothes on. Fear rooted deep when he found them still sitting as neat and tidy as when Grace originally laid them down. While she may have gone to speak with Beth, she wouldn’t do so wearing only his t-shirt and not a stitch else.
    He tossed on his pants, not bothering to button them and raced barefooted across the hall to Moss and Beth’s room, banging on their door like a madman on speed.
    Moss opened the door with such brute force, Damien jerked away, stunned the thing hadn’t ripped off its hinges.
    “Is Grace here?”
    “No, I thought she stayed with you.” Moss spoke in a hushed tone no doubt trying to save