Sinner (The Hades Squad #1) by Jianne Carlo Page A

stand's edge and leaned the luxuriant fir against the cabin wall.
    Chaos ran amok in her brain.
    A tree?
    He hadn't left.
    Something hot and wet blistered her shin.
    “Ow!” she squealed, lifting one foot. The fuzzy pink flamingo slipper bobbed when she hopped.
    A circle of oil had dripped from the spatula onto the middle of her shin.
    “Damn,” she sputtered, grabbing a checkered kitchen cloth while bracing a hip on the kitchen counter.
    Before she could bend over to examine the injury, Linc was at her side.
    He smelled of wood and wind and man. They stared at each other for long seconds. His swarthy complexion had reddened, his full lips tinted blue from the cold; snow dusted his open jacket, and his eyes glistened like moss-hued caramel.
    “Where do you hurt?” He leaned closer, cupping her jaw, and his mouth brushed hers before he craned back, touched a finger to her nose, and asked again, “Destiny, where do you hurt?”
    It took a few seconds before his words sank in.
    “I'm not hurt. Not really. Just an oil drip.” She eyed the spatula, then her shin, in mute, idiotic communication.
    “Let me see.” Linc took the dripping spatula from her hand and sank down on one knee. “I don't think it will bubble, but we should put some ice on it. Love the pink birds.”
    He flashed her a cheeky grin.
    The man had razzle-dazzle down to perfection.
    He rose to his feet and their gazes met. “Are you hurting, Destiny Driven?”
    Confused, she nodded and then shook her head. “Linc?”
    “D'you like the tree?” The color of his eyes now matched the pine, a deep forest green. His icy exhale chilled the heat rising in her cheeks.
    “I guess.” Burned bread wafted to Destiny's nostrils. “The muffins are burning. I have to take them out.”
    “Don't use too many appliances at once. I don't know how much juice the generator's got.” He flipped the toaster switch up, and two brown-black slices popped. “What's the matter? Why so withdrawn, Destiny?”
    The fuzz shadowing his strong jaw glistened when the muscles in his neck and throat clenched and bunched. Unable to resist, Destiny cradled his cheek, her fingers wandering to the slight cleft in Linc's chin. “You didn't leave.”
    He drew back. “Leave? You? Not going to happen. I just had to work off a little excess energy.” One corner of his mouth quirked. “Come here, doll. I need to hold you.”
    The man liked her horizontal; he had her in his arms in seconds.
    “You were mad as all hell.” Not about to let his abrupt disappearance fester and grow until her insecurities exploded, Destiny doggedly continued. “Was it because you thought I'm Lorcan's leftovers?”
    He straightened and opened his mouth.
    As fast as the Quick Draw McGraw cartoon character, she pressed her hand against his cold lips. “Because I'm not. Your friend tried to cop a feel. I smacked him good.”
    Linc's broad grin at her last words and the way he winked at her reminded Destiny of an ape beating his chest and roaring victory. “That's my woman. He'll never, ever lay a hand on you again. On my word of honor, Destiny, no man will ever touch you again.”
    He's jealous. And possessive.
    Wild elation curved her lips, and she inhaled, thrilling at the intense emotion in his eyes.
    “Fucking right. I am both where you're concerned. By the time I'm done with Satan, he's going to be hurting all over.”
    Cripes, she'd spoken her thoughts. As much as his growled statement showered pinpricks of happiness, the realization he meant every single word had her glaring at him. “You will not hurt Lorcan McGuillycuddy. He didn't do it in a bad way. I have a feeling that man is like a bulldozer unless you throw the brakes. Stop scowling. I want your word that you will not hurt him.”
    “Uh-uh. No way.”
    “I'm not going to try out the Deep Throat scene that you choose until you give me your word.”
    His eyes crossed, his brows gathered, and he brought his face to within an inch of hers. Hot,