Aline Hunter - Marked

“Okay, that’s it.” She slammed a fist onto the counter. It was lust. Plain and simple. Nature was finally making its demands on her body. “Tomorrow I’m getting a vibrator. Enough’s enough.”

Once the hot chocolate was made she scurried to her bedroom, turning off the lights as she went. She placed the mug on the nightstand as she wrapped the blankets around her, grateful she’d decided to splurge on quality handmade quilts instead of cheaper comforters.

Sinking into the pillows, she brought the drink to her lips and her thoughts shifted to Chloe. If things were different she would have called her best friend and told her what was going on. It wasn’t unusual for them to call each other at weird times. As a matter of fact, they’d been known to spend hours on the phone talking about this and that.

A sharp pain lanced her chest.

Would Jackson resent early morning phone calls? Would he get pissed off if Chloe wanted to visit Rachel’s home for a girls movie night? Although they weren’t related by blood, the women were as close as sisters. They talked to each other almost every single day. Surely he wouldn’t try to come between them?

“If he does, I’ll shoot him,” she grumbled.

As usual, the hot chocolate was gone before she was ready. She always wanted more of the stuff. It was her one indulgence. The only thing she spent hard-earned money on. With an exhausted groan, she placed her mug on nightstand, turned off the light and sank into the bed.

It was dark, the night quiet.

She glanced at the window, trying not to think about the full moon. She really needed to get some sleep. The shop was always busy in the summer and winter. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be any different. Unless she sold the house and shop and moved—something she’d considered but hadn’t had the courage to do—this would forever be her life.

She closed her eyes, safe and sound in her snuggly warm bed, trying to return to the land of dreams. Mr. Tattoo Man was a coincidence. Nothing more. Just another weird thing that sometimes happened to people. Like déjà vu. Besides, if he showed up again she’d tell him to go fuck himself.

You can run but you can’t hide, Just Rachel.

Who the hell did he think he was? She wasn’t running? No way.

She grinned into her pillow, waiting for sleep to claim her. In dreams she could do whatever she wanted, which meant normal rules didn’t apply. As soon as she drifted off she’d search for a drink to throw directly into his face. After he was good and doused she’d tell him where to go and how to get there. If she was lucky, they’d be in a public place.

She focused on a location, choosing a bar down the road. It was always full of human patrons. Putting him in his place in front of mere mortals would be full of awesome, bordering on epic.

Now that would wipe the smile off his face.

Aline Hunter is the alias of multi-published author J.A. Saare, who has written stories featured in horror magazines, zombie romance anthologies and flash fiction contests. Her work has a notable dark undertone, which she credits to her love of old eighties horror films, tastes in music and choices in reading, and has been described as “full of sensual promise,” “gritty and sexy” and “a breath of fresh air.”

Currently she is penning multiple projects within the urban fantasy, erotic and contemporary, and paranormal romance categories.

Aline welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.