CORA’S SECRET (Destiny’s Trinities: Book 4)
A Vampire Menage Urban Fantasy Romance
BUY CORA’S SECRET RIGHT NOW AT YOUR FAVORITE STORE!
PRINT: | AMAZON PRINT | B&N PRINT |
“…one of those series you hope will never end!” — biggestkat
EXCERPT FROM CORA’S SECRET
COPYRIGHT © TRACY COOPER-POSEY 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The cheap tables, those with a minimum bet of a dollar, were crowded and noisy and Cora slipped between them, heading for the heavy tables on the other side of the room, where her assigned table was.
As she passed the last table, something rippled across her consciousness and she came to an abrupt halt. The man behind her almost cannonned into her, apologizing profusely. Canadian, she automatically catalogued as he stepped around her. There were a lot of Canadians that cruised across the lake, usually from Port Rowan, to take in a little gambling. Or they drove down the coastline from the Fort Erie Bridge and Buffalo.
She was trying to pretend she hadn’t felt that touch of coldness, distracting herself by thinking about Canadians and the casino’s clientele instead. Ducking it….
So she turned slowly on her heel, letting her gaze sweep over the cheap tables and the packed-in gamblers, looking for what had triggered the mental alert.
There. There he was.
He looked like a normal man. A really good looking normal man in his mid-thirties, with short, black hair and the scruffy two days’ worth of growth most men seemed to favour these days. His features were Meditteranean—olive skin and white teeth and extreme good looks.
He was watching her. His eyes were the same pitch black as his hair.
She walked over to where he was standing. He wasn’t even trying to pretend to be interested in the table he was standing next to. He was watching her with unblinking steadiness, already marking himself as different, as not right. He was careless.
Cora grabbed his arm just above the elbow, gripping through the leather sleeve of his jacket. “Come with me,” she said quietly.
The fact that he turned and let her lead him away from the tables proved that she was right about it. A normal human would have protested, demanding to know what was wrong, why she wanted them to leave.
She gripped harder, letting her fingers dig in, as her anger built.
“If you take me through the service corridors, people will notice,” he said.
“If I do what I’m going to do to you out in the public areas, people will really notice.” She pushed the swing door open with the flat of her hand.