No I’m not talking about Halloween coming up, I’m talking about my story The Bewitching Hour which will be released by Silhouette Nocturne in December. It’s a BITE, a short about a secondary character in my Valorian Chronicles. This story is about Hector Morales, the chief investigator from the San Antonio crime lab. I had a lot of fun writing a story for him…

Check out the cover…

Here’s a short excerpt:

There was only ten minutes until the wedding ceremony. Hector Morales shut the hotel room door behind him, tucking the key card into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and walked swiftly down the wide opulent corridor to the bank of elevators. Luckily, the Necropolis Grand Hilton had eight elevators serving the huge lavish hotel. He hoped at least one of them would get him to the penthouse suite in time. He really didn’t want to be late for Lyra and Theron’s wedding.

After pressing the up button, he sat in one of the red velvet high backed chairs to wait. He smoothed down the wrinkle on his gray trousers and cursed himself for not making more time before the wedding. His suit definitely needed pressing, and he likely needed a shave. He rubbed a hand over his chin, already feeling the first prickles of stubble. But the phone call from the office in San Antonio had taken up his grooming time and then some.

The sheriff had called him about a missing person’s case his crime scene team was working on. As usual, the sheriff had called to chew him out. It still surprised him he had a job after that fiasco in San Antonio when Caine Valorian’s forensic team, from Necropolis, came out to help him on a strange murder. The murder ended up being part of a series of rituals that a very powerful vampiress was conducting in order to open a portal to hell. She ended up being a demon of all things.

Hector still had trouble believing that all of that had happened. Vampires, lycans, witches, these were the types of people that lived and worked in Necropolis. He was both pleased and perplexed to call some of them, namely Caine’s crime scene team, his friends. Enough so, that he was attending Lyra’s, who was a witch, nuptials to a half vampire/half witch named Theron who hailed from the Otherworlder European city of Nouveau Monde.

Sometimes it got really confusing keeping everyone’s species straight.
The elevator arrived. When the doors slid open, Hector walked into the plush mirrored elevator for the twenty floor ride. His room was on the tenth floor and the wedding was in the penthouse suite in a tropical type atrium. A night wedding. He liked them around this time. It seemed more romantic to him. It was no surprise thought especially since a lot of the guests were vampires and couldn’t tolerate the hot sun for very long.

The elevator stopped on the thirteenth floor. The hoteliers obviously weren’t superstitious. The door slid open but no one came on. Shrugging, Hector pushed the close door button. But before it could slide shut, a slim pale hand stopped it. The door bounced open again from the intrusion, and a tall slender woman in a lavender dress stepped into the box.

Her hair was as red as a Texas sunset and it swirled around her in long perfect curls. It shone in the muted elevator light and Hector had a terrific urge to reach out and caress one of those perfect spirals. He actually had to fist his hand tight against his leg to stop from doing just that.

She glanced at him and smiled. “Good evening.”

He just nodded, his mouth too sticky to open and form any coherent words. He was usually quite comfortable around most people. He worked in law enforcement long enough to be confident and sure in his position. But nerves zapped through his body the second the woman entered the elevator. The air seemed thick around him, and he was having a difficult time breathing. Was it just because she was an Otherworlder? Or was it because she was breathtakingly beautiful?

She looked at him again. “Are you going to Lyra and Theron’s wedding?”

Her eyes were as green as fresh spring grass. He didn’t think a color like that could exist in someone’s eyes. Knowing he was staring, likely impolitely, he cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “Yes,” he finally managed to say. His throat was tight and he pulled at his tie. The temperature in the elevator was definitely rising.

“I’m Fiona Woodland, Lyra’s estranged cousin.” She stuck out her slim elegant hand toward him.