In all the time he’d known Lilith he’d never heard her voice so raw,
her emotions so close to the surface. He could practically feel them through her skin. Fear. Reluctance. Desire. Hope.
Her kiss mirrored all that and more. The moment he lowered his head, she grabbed his cheeks and tugged him down. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body flush against his, marvelling at how petite and fragile she seemed even as she was raking her hands through his hair and darting her tongue against his with wild abandon. For once, neither one knew what the other wanted – except to be filled, to be completed, to be loved.
JULIE ELIZABETH LETO
With twenty-six novels under her belt, New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Julie Elizabeth Leto has established a reputation for writing ultra-sexy, edgy stories. Julie writes primarily for the Blaze® line. A 2005 RITA® Award nominee, Julie lives in her home town of Tampa, Florida with her husband, daughter and a very spoiled dachshund. For more information, check out Julie’s website at www.julieleto.com.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the BAD GIRLS CLUB!
Bad girls. Mills & Boon® Blaze®. I can’t imagine a better combination.
What was amazing about writing the series in Blaze® was getting permission to really push the book and the characters to the limit. The only rule in the Bad Girls Club is to break all the rules. So in this story, I’m going to bring you deep into a paranormal world. My heroine, Lilith St Lyon, is a real witch. And by that I mean a real witch. She’s more Serena than Samantha Stevens, admittedly…but that’s what makes her so much fun.
Happy reading!
Julie
STRIPPED
BY
JULIE ELIZABETH LETO
Special thanks to Elissa Wilds, for sharing
her knowledge and her love of her craft so that I could ground my fictional characters in the very real community.
Shout outs to Brenda Chin, Tori Carrington
and Leslie Kelly, for once again bringing the Bad Girls Club back to life…with a vengeance. Drinks are on me.
And as always, to the Plotmonkeys.
Prologue
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.”
Lilith St. Lyon slapped the newest muscle-car magazine on her coffee table and slammed to her feet. She really hated when her sister barged in without as much as a call. Or a simple knock. Hell, even a whisper along the lines of Excuse me, sis, but I’m about to shimmer into your apartment, so don’t get freaked would suffice.
Sometimes Lilith hated being a witch.
Especially when Regina showed up all regal in her deeppurple robes, flaunting how she could bypass Lilith’s psychic powers and appear without warning. One advantage of Lilith’s talent was that, for the most part, no one could sneak up on her. No one except the most powerful witch in the realm—her big sis. Yet here she was, startled, pissed and staring daggers at Regina, gorgeous as always with her flowing dark hair and penetrating lilac eyes, and the gray-haired, pinched-faced members of the Witches Council who flanked Regina on either side.
“Lilith St. Lyon, you are charged—” Regina started, but Lilith cut her off by kicking over the coffee table. Her boots shattered the glass and scattered her magazines to the floor in a glossy, jagged heap.
The councillors jumped back, their arms instantly stiff in defensive postures Lilith could bypass with another swift kick. Regina remained still.
So in control. So royal. So damned perfect Lilith wanted to puke. Or scream.
“Don’t do this, Reg,” Lilith ordered.
Lilith tried to ignore the pained look on her sister’s face. Regina hadn’t asked for this gig, but she sure took the whole power trip seriously. Had since day one. Not that she’d had any choice in the matter.
“Lilith, you’ve given the Council no other recourse.”
“You’re the freaking Guardian,” Lilith shouted, sweeping her hand toward Regina’s amulet, the silver-dollar-size alexandrite that dangled from a platinum chain and glowed red and blue and green just between her breasts. “You can tell the Council where to shove their asinine rules. Or, better yet, shimmer all their fogy asses over here and I’ll tell them myself. You can’t take my powers.”
As a powerful psychic, Lilith knew that was exactly what her sister had come here to do. Though, honestly, she didn’t need clairvoyance to figure it out. Lilith had known the rules before she’d broken them. No utilizing powers for personal gain. First her mother and then her aunt Marion had tried for years to drill the concept into her brain. But Lilith couldn’t understand why, if she had to live with all the crap that accompanied being a living, breathing witch of the higher realm, she couldn’t also have a few of the finer things in life to make the sacrifices worthwhile.
“The Council does not fear you,” Regina said, her mouth twitching.
She was lying. Oh, Regina herself wasn’t afraid of Lilith. As Guardian, Regina had no reason to fear anyone except the occasional witch hunter or warlock or demon. She and Lilith had broken in their wands sparring together, even after Regina’s powers had grown so that she no longer needed carved teak to focus her magic. Lilith had long ago accepted that she’d never wield the type of magic Regina could, even after her psychic powers had come into their own. And that was fine by her. She’d seen her sister’s future. Picnics were not on the schedule.
“The Council has lived apart from mundanes too long,” Lilith countered. “They don’t remember what life in the normal world is like. We’re sisters, Reg. The bond we share runs deeper than rules and regulations, even those carved into stone tablets shortly after the dawn of humanity.”
Regina’s expression softened, but the Council was another story. The twin towers of old-world thought that stood one to each side of her sister swirled with auras white with fear and admonition. Everyone in the witching world feared Lilith, reviled her even—had her whole life—though Lilith could never quite understand why. Sure, she had a habit of losing her temper and hurling epithets with more precision than a major league pitcher. Her psychic prophecies had sometimes caused distress here and there. But in the long run she was just a sassy pain in the ass. Her powers were nothing compared to her sister’s. It’s not as though she could blow anybody up.
“I need my powers, Reg,” Lilith whispered.
“You no longer deserve them,” Regina countered, her gaze glittering purple like the stone of rank she wore around her neck.
“Do you hear how you sound like a complete hypocrite?”
Regina sucked in a breath. For a split second Lilith felt guilty.
Then she got over it.
Four years older, Regina had been barely a teenager when she’d been tapped as Guardian following their mother’s brutal murder at the hands of a warlock. But unlike most witches attacked by the thieving race of witch killers, their mother had transferred her powers to her older daughter before she died. From that moment, Regina possessed a wide range of powers that included being able to shimmer from one place to another and the ability to form and hurl energy bursts that could blast a demon or warlock to kingdom come—an act Regina had executed only seconds after their mother had taken her last breath.
Baptism by fire, literally. There might not have