Eclipsing Dawn (Dusk takes Dawn) by Celia Sweet Page A

pockets. Once she watched his video she wouldn’t get to see him again until tomorrow. There’d be no other contact. Dawn took a moment to savor the anticipation of what her sexy-as-hell man would say, and the way his words, eyes, body, and voice would set her senses on fire.
    Eagerness overtook Dawn. Her body grew hotter, wetter. If that were possible. Her nipples throbbed until she took one breast in each hand and squeezed. The gesture ramped up the insistent need to a throbbing ache. Her mind begged her body to stop tormenting her. Treacherous body. It only obeyed Duncan and continued to long for him. Only him.
    To distract herself from her desires, Dawn thought back to how she and Duncan met. They’d been partnered as police detectives for a decade, ever since the Powers That Be decided Duncan’s clan of mages, The Cursed Craigs of Scotland, should team up with the witches of New Chicago. The two groups formed a kind of paranormal police force to keep the peace among the magic-users in the city.
    Dawn rolled her eyes. The Powers continuously forced them to pay penance. As if they hadn’t lost enough already. The Craigs would never again see the sunrise or farm their beloved homelands by the light of day.
    Dawn looked up at Duncan’s handsome, though fierce, expression. A sculpted warrior, he’d bared his teeth to snarl at the coming sunrise. He’d raised his fist as though any moment he’d hurtle into the air and beat the sun into submission for denying him its glow. He would, too. If he could. He might even fight for her love. If he burned for her the way she did for him she didn’t doubt he’d do anything to hold her in his arms.
    Snatching up the phone and messenger bag, she whispered her goodbyes. "I’ll be back soon, Dusk," she said, calling Duncan by her nickname for him. Her promise wrapped her in a warmth the sunlight hadn’t managed. Her fingertips caressed a granite bicep as she passed his statue, and exited the roof.
     
    Duncan and Dawn had moved into the penthouse of one of the buildings his clan owned a year or so before. The Craigs were richer than sin. Actually, they were fabulously wealthy due a global beverage empire, specializing in scotch, bourbon, whiskey, and soft drinks.
    As far as Dawn could tell, they both adored their new home. She knew she did, and Duncan seemed content when she watched his videos. Flinging the door to the loft open, she paused in the entryway to breathe her man in. His scent enveloped her, mountain air and aromatic wood—snow and forest. Tantalizing.
    The area rugs over their hardwood floors muted the sound of her boot heels as she crossed to the couch. Dawn discarded pieces of clothing as she moved until only her bra and panties remained. She planned to grab a quick shower before heading out later.
    Flopping down in the center of the cushions, she dropped the bag beside her and lifted their phone to eye level. At the edge of her vision a screensaver morphed in a variety of abstract shapes. Duncan had left the laptop open on the coffee table. No matter how often she got after him, the man had no concept of going green. He said a big carbon footprint came with a big body. She laughed, making a note to shut the laptop down after she checked her e-mail, but that would have to wait until after she’d heard his voice and seen his face.
    Swiping through the icons on the phone, she found the messages and opened the latest.
    "Good morning, my jewel."
    Duncan’s voice wafted from the phone, a salve to her parched senses. Every morning, his messages reminded her he’d stolen her heart and soul. He’d captured her effortlessly. She hoped she’d done the same for him.
    They’d fallen for each other on the job and no one at the precinct had the balls to protest, no matter how many massive floral arrangements or annoyingly cute bears in kilts appeared on her desk. Duncan and Dawn were far too good together, far too lethal and effective a tag-team for their superiors to