Review
"Edge of my seat thriller. I couldn't wait to see how Rory and Saraid were going to overcome their difficulties, outwit their enemies, and defeat the evil known as the Book of Fennore." --All About Romance, Maggie Boyd
HAUNTING WARRIOR was an enthralling read. [Quinn's] mélange of paranormal, time travel and romance is outstanding!
--The Romance Readers Connection, Tammy Faris
First thing that came to mind when I turned the last page was how long must I wait for the third book, Haunting Desire! Haunting Warrior was both fascinating and compelling! --Romance Book Wyrm, Amy C
Haunting Warrior should carry a warning: don't start reading if you have to go to work the next day. You will not be able to put it down until you finish the very last word." --Kathryne Kennedy, Award Winning Author of The Fire Lord's Lover
From the Author
Excerpt from Haunting Warrior by Erin Quinn
He propped an arm on either side of her and rose up to look into her face. The muscles of his arms and shoulders bunched with strength and suppressed power. She lowered her lashes so he wouldn't see into her eyes, but he took his weight on his elbows and cupped her face in his palms, forcing her to meet his steady gaze. She saw what she expected in the glittering blue. Cruelty, rage, simmering resentment that he could barely contain.
But his hands gentled even as his eyes did not and his fingers moved softly over her cheek and down to her throat. She sensed warring desires within him--one wanted to hurt her, the other to caress. His touch was tender, but beneath it was a violence she could taste.
He made a deep sound--not a growl, not a moan, but something of each--and his mouth followed his stroking fingers. He'd confused her and now she lay trapped in the snarl of his conflict. He touched her as if he'd waited his whole life to feel the softness of her skin, as if he hated her for the weakness it showed in him. Not for first time since she'd looked upon his face this day, she had a feeling of duality. There were two men behind those blue, blue eyes, unaware of each other. She felt them converge with each caress and the feeling went beyond superstition, beyond fear, and beyond comprehension.
He didn't ask questions, didn't hesitate. His fingers were in her hair, pulling it free from the braids, scattering flowers around them. Stroking it, fanning it like a halo. Then he was wrapping it around his hand, holding her captive as he covered her mouth with his own. His kiss was fierce, consuming. He used teeth and tongue, wielding intimacy like he would a weapon. There was no resisting; there was no surrender.
And beneath the onslaught she felt that yearning again, that need that he emitted like the hum of a bee. It lodged within her, finding some piece of herself that understood it when the rest of her could not. It caressed and coaxed and lured her to respond.
Her fingers spread against his back, her legs twining with his as she moved without thought, tempering his assault. His lips softened, enticed where they had punished. He kissed and nibbled, teasing her with his tongue until she opened for him, laying herself bare to his gentle onslaught. His hands moved over her as if he knew exactly where to touch, how to touch. As if he'd lain with her a hundred times before. His fingers were beneath her shift, inching it up until he pulled it over her head, leaving her stripped and vulnerable. Quickly he shed the remainder of his own clothing and then pressed his body to hers.
