The rich, sweet aroma of vanilla made Runa’s mouth water as she turned on the professional quality electric mixer her mate, Shade, had gotten her for Christmas. She wasn’t a big fan of cooking meals, but she did enjoy baking sweet treats, and her family didn’t complain a bit.

Boots clomped on the floor down the hall, and she turned off the mixer as Shade sauntered into the kitchen. He’d donned his black paramedic uniform for his afternoon shift at Underworld General Hospital, and she had a powerful urge to rip it off. Right here in the kitchen. She could finish making cookies to go with the smoothie pops she’d just put in the freezer to celebrate Stryke’s A+ in science class later.

“Where are the boys?” he asked as he reached for a bottle of water in the fridge.

“They’re at Stewie’s pool party. Serena just sent a picture of them playing on the big float. It’s on my phone if you want to see it.”

“We should get a pool,” he said as he swiped his finger across her phone’s screen.

“We’re welcome to use theirs anytime,” she pointed out.

A smile ruffled his lips at the sight of the three dark-haired, espresso- eyed boys, the spitting images of their father, splashing in the water.

“Wraith and Serena made their house the place to be when they put it in, didn’t they?”

It was probably the very reason they put in the pool. “Well, they love parties and kids.”

“That’s because they only have one,” he muttered, but he was joking. Shade adored children, and when they were around, he could always be found nearby.

She fetched a can of cooking spray from a cupboard. “Speaking of kids, this morning a witch at the hospital told me I’m going to have twins in exactly eight years.”

“Only twins?” Shade twisted the cap off his water. “Awesome.”

She shook a spatula at him. “I remember when you wanted a whole bunch of kids.”

“I remember too,” Shade said. “And then we had triplets.” “Are you saying you don’t want more?”

Pausing with the bottle at his lips, he shrugged. “We’ve got centuries ahead of us. I’m not in a hurry.”

Neither was she. She loved being a mother, but she only had so much time between volunteering at the hospital and taking care of triplets, a mate, and two homes. Granted, one of the homes was a cave in a jungle, but it still had modern appliances and conveniences like hot running water and toilets, and modern things needed to be cleaned.

“I still can’t believe your drive to impregnate me hasn’t kicked in since the boys were born.”

“That’s how it works when we’re mated.” He grabbed a granola bar from the pantry and tucked it into the leg pocket of his BDU pants. “The drive only kicks in when our mates are ready. You’re clearly not ready.”

“You think? I barely have time to shower, let alone have more kids. But I’m sure everything will be different in eight years,” she added, with more than a little sarcasm.

“You never know.” He waggled his brows. “Wanna practice making our twins?”

Always up for a little practice, Runa eyed her mate, her body already heating at the thought of watching him strip out of his uniform. Or maybe she’d make him leave it on. It was sexy as hell.

“Don’t you have to be at work in fifteen minutes?” she asked. “Con will cover for me. Sin’s working late with DART today.”

Smiling, she peeled off her shirt and tossed it at him. “Then by all means…let’s get some practice in.”

About Larissa Ione:

Larissa Ione is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. An Air Force veteran, she traded in a career as a meteorologist to pursue her passion of writing. She now spends her days in pajamas with her computer, strong coffee, and supernatural worlds. She believes in celebrating everything, and would never be caught without a bottle of Champagne chilling in the fridge…just in case. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her U.S. Coast Guard husband, her teenage son, a rescue cat named Vegas, and her very own hellhound, a King Shepherd named Hexe.

About Suzanne M. Johnson:

USA Today bestselling author Suzanne M. Johnson is family trained, a South Georgia native who’s been cooking all of her life, creating not only some really unique food, but precious memories that re-occur every time she smells something simmering in the oven. In all of her books, Suzanne shows that making a delicious meal doesn’t have to be complicated–it just has to be made with love. So go ahead, don’t be bashful, dive right in. Who knows? You might just make a few memories of your own.

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The best thing about grocery shopping at midnight was that the stores were relatively quiet. As someone sensitive to life-force energy, Aurora Mercer liked that.

But sometimes the lack of activity wasn’t a good thing.

Like now, as she walked her groceries out to her car. Fog common to Portland, Oregon in the fall had rolled in, obscuring everything farther than about forty feet out. She’d parked her dark blue Mercedes close to the building and under a light, but as she opened the rear door she was unnerved to see a black van pull next to her, blocking her faint view of the store—and blocking employee views of her.

The van’s windows were blacked out.

She laughed nervously. It was probably nothing. Serial killers didn’t drive anything so obvious, right?

  Right?

Still, she picked up her pace, not caring that she was all but throwing her groceries in the back seat and food was spilling everywhere. She could salvage the cherries on the floor when she got home, and raspberry juice stains on cream leather wouldn’t look that bad.

Not as bad as blood.

She finished and slammed the door closed. But shit…the cart corral was several stalls away. Her heart started racing at the thought of getting that far from her car and the light. Screw it, she could leave the cart here. She hated when people did that, but avoiding death was as good an excuse as any to be lazy.

Hastily she pushed the cart in front of her car, secured it over a concrete tire block—

“Fog’s bad, isn’t it?”

She spun around with a startled yelp. An attractive man, maybe six-four with a

Celtic cross tattoo on his neck, stood between her and her driver side door. How had he gotten there so fast?

  Stay calm.

Easier said than done, but she’d give it a shot. “Excuse me,” she said firmly. “I’m in a hurry.”

He didn’t budge. “I’m sure you are.”

As casually as she could, she reached into her purse for her keys and the attached canister of pepper spray, but as she fished around she realized she’d left them on her back seat. Her heart skipped a beat and then pounded so fast and hard she could feel it in her ears.

  Deep breaths. You don’t have your pepper spray, but you aren’t weaponless.

The man smiled as if he knew she’d come up empty of pepper spray and was happy about it. “Problem? Something I can help you with?”

“No. Thank you.” She dredged up a smile of her own and prayed it looked genuine and not like she was scared out of her mind. “If you’ll step aside, I’ll just go—”

She broke off as, out of the corner of her eye, she detected movement. Another man-shaped shadow stepped out of the fog behind the van, and her throat constricted with terror.

 About Larissa Ione:

Larissa Ione is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. An Air Force veteran, she traded in a career as a meteorologist to pursue her passion of writing. She now spends her days in pajamas with her computer, strong coffee, and supernatural worlds. She believes in celebrating everything, and would never be caught without a bottle of Champagne chilling in the fridge…just in case. She currently lives in Wisconsin with her U.S. Coast Guard husband, her teenage son, a rescue cat named Vegas, and her very own hellhound, a King Shepherd named Hexe.