Excerpt of Blaze by Joan Swan

Keira kept her mouth shut so she didn't ruin this opportunity to escape. Maybe her only opportunity.

Tony scanned the surroundings and dragged Keira across the driver's seat and out the door. She struggled with Mateo's weight, the boy trying to hang on instead of standing, causing all her injured muscles to pull.

The cold night closed around her, adding gravity to her circumstances. The air was frostier than she'd guessed from inside the car, but as long as she kept moving, she'd be okay.

Tony pushed her off the cracked asphalt to a dirt strip. "Get busy."

Keira set Mateo on the ground, guided him a few feet away, and crouched in front of him. She searched the terrain from beneath her lashes, or at least what she could see of it in the sliver of moonlight and the diffusion of headlights.

A whisper of calm blanketed her shoulders. Unjustified, but real. Familiar, yet unknown.

The sandy dirt pitched and rolled in hills so slight she hadn't noticed them from the car. Ones that could provide temporary seclusion as she ran. But she'd have to do something to disable Tony first. She was fast, but carrying Mateo, she'd never outrun the man.

"And while we're out here, you take a piss, too, Keira," he snapped, nervous eyes darting right and left in the car's faded side beams. "I'm not stopping again. For anyth—"

A wave of energy splashed her with heat just before a fleshy smack split the air. Tony grunted and stumbled sideways, then whipped around, his weapon pointed into the darkness, wavering from one area to another, searching for the threat.

"She doesn't like being bossed around."

Luke. A mixture of excitement and relief pushed the breath from her lungs in one long whoosh, and she smiled. A big, face–splitting, cheek–pinching smile.

His voice snaked through the quiet night from what seemed like every direction, but she could feel him kicking off surge after surge of emotion on Tony's right. Volatile, complex emotions she couldn't label.

Tony twisted one way, turned another, unable to pin Luke's location. Another crack of flesh on flesh, and Tony flailed backward. The flash of his gun burst red against the black surroundings. The sound exploded in Keira's ears. Her heart jerked at the same time Mateo grabbed her shirt with both hands and squealed in terror. She scooped him into her arms and darted to the opposite side of the car.

Once she'd set him on his feet, Keira pushed him back by the arms and looked him in the eye. "Stay here." With a shake of his shoulders and a determined gaze, she repeated, "Don't move."

When she turned and scuffled toward the trunk, she anticipated the grab of his hand, the sound of his voice calling her back, but neither happened. Peering around the bumper, Keira watched the men's silhouettes struggle. Both were tall. Both lean and muscular. Both trained fighters. But Luke's blond hair shimmered golden in the moonlight.

In a crouch, she started toward them. The vibrations flowing off each were so different, she would have known who was who even if she hadn't been able to see the shine of Luke's blond head. She followed her senses and angled behind Tony. Grunts, kicks, smacks, scuffles. Another gunshot. Keira's heartbeat spiked.

Her gaze hooked on to the neon flash, and she lunged. She caught Tony's wrist from behind and yanked his arm backward. When he turned a shocked look her way, Luke plowed his fist into the side of Tony's face. He jerked, spun, and dropped. Keira stomped on his forearm, wrenched the gun from his hand, and pointed it at his chest. But Tony didn't notice. He was already unconscious.

"Goddamned sonofabitch!" Luke clutched one fist inside the other, both held tight to his body. "I think I broke my fucking fingers to go along with my fucking ribs."

A laugh bubbled up from her throat. A traumatized, Tinker Bell–like laugh. When she lowered the gun, her hand was shaking. Her gun hand never shook. Never. The laugh twisted into a pained moan of relief as her shoulders sagged and her mind shorted out.

Luke advanced on her, shaking out his fist, a grimace on his scruffy face. His energy or aura or whatever the hell it was she felt spilling from him traveled in tandem, and his approach pressed in on her like an impending tsunami. She fell back a step before he closed his arms around her, yanked her against his body, and lifted her off the ground.

Sizzle. Pop. Buzz. The current mellowed to a soothing hum. Warmth coated every inch of her body. She melted into him. Dropped her arms around his neck, her face against his shoulder. He was warm and hard and strong. He smelled so good, fit her so perfectly.

Oh, yes. This is where I belong.

"Jesus Christ, Keira," he muttered against her neck, where he'd buried his face. Where she wanted it to stay. Where she wanted him to kiss her. "You just took ten goddamned years off my life."

She skimmed the fingers of her free hand through his hair. Still as rich and soft as she remembered. "Only ten?"

"The second ten. The first ten came off when I saw you hanging from that roof. At this rate, you're going to dig my grave in a week."

She grinned. "You always said I'd be the death of you."

He loosened his hold and let her slide down his body. And, oh, wow, how had she forgotten the steely, searing beauty of it? By the time her feet touched the ground, her hips were wedged against his erection, her belly pressed to his, her breasts flattened against his chest, and fire ripping over every inch of her body.

Luke started to pull back, but Keira held on. She shouldn't. She knew. But her arms wouldn't release his shoulders. His hands gripped her waist, fingers digging into her flesh and holding her against his body, as if he, too, was having a hard time letting go.

He looked into her eyes, and she could have fallen back in time—to when she could read his mind with one look into these beautiful blue irises. Now, she saw traces of that man. Relief, lingering adrenaline . . . desire. Yes, definitely desire. Need pulsed deep in her abdomen. She lowered her gaze to his mouth, so very hungry for the taste of him again. His lips looked fuller outlined with several days' worth of whisker growth, and they were so close.

"Back then I was talking about how you wore me out in bed."

She watched his mouth move with the words, basked in the way his voice showered over her, and smiled at the same time fire exploded at the center of her body. Her fingers slid into his hair, head tilted up until her mouth was on a trajectory with his—

"Thia." Mateo gripped her jeans.

Her eyes snapped up from Luke's mouth and met his; found them mirroring her flash of surprise. Then they crinkled at the corners with his slow smile, and Keira's heart flipped, twisted, and floated to her throat.

"Thia." Mateo bounced restlessly at their feet, his arms stretched up to her. "Aggalia."

Reality check.

She released Luke, and as if the three years separating them whirled in to take over, contentment and love washed out on one wave, disappointment and heartache swept in on another.

Definitely a reality check. What in God's name was she thinking? Kissing Luke was like inviting catastrophe into her carefully secured world. She needed to get back to Sacramento—way the hell far away from him.