Waking Up by Arianna Hart Page A

one looked in his direction or seemed alarmed by what had just happened. If it wasn’t for the pain searing through him, he’d think it was all a fever dream.
    Declan’s head spun and he tried to figure out what the goddess meant. Something about refusing Fiona had insulted Morrigan and she’d cursed him, but how? What did she mean that he would have to search for love? Love was for women and the addled, not for warriors. Besides, he’d never had trouble getting women to warm his blankets. It wouldn’t take an eternity to find another.
    Before he could ponder her curse further, a roar went up from one of the warriors on watch. A battle cry echoed through the camp as the enemy attacked. Declan ran for his sword by his bedroll but knew it would be futile. There were too many enemies for their small band and men were already down. He slipped in the blood of his comrades as he dove for his sword, all thoughts of Morrigan and her curse forgotten.
    For now.

Chapter One
    New Orleans, present day
    A troupe of vicious gnomes were stabbing ice picks inside Ciara’s skull. That could be the only explanation for the pain throbbing behind her left eye. Nausea rolled in her belly as she tried to turn her head to escape the blinding light piercing her brain. What the hell had she done last night?
    As images flashed through her head, Ciara realized a few things simultaneously. First, she was naked, and she never slept naked. Second, she wasn’t in her hotel room, because this was by far nicer than the one she and her friend, Leigh, had rented. Third, whosever room this belonged to was currently taking a shower and singing in a very nice baritone.
    Oh shit.
    Scenes from last night crashed down on her like a tidal wave. When the guy had walked into the room and every female hormone in her body had jumped to attention. He was tall, with black hair and blue eyes, and so intensely attractive she felt like she’d been struck by lightning. She remembered dancing with him at a bar with a mechanical bull. Well, it hadn’t exactly been dancing. It had been more like dry sex. He’d licked salt off her wrist when they’d done shots of tequila and the heat from his mouth on her had damn near dropped her right there.
    Just the memory of it had moisture flooding between her legs. Apparently, not for the first time either as the sheets felt a little damp. Ciara winced as she glanced around the room. The sexy black dress Leigh had insisted she wear was crumpled on the floor next to a pair of khaki pants and her sky-high heels. Condom wrappers littered the floor and her purse hung on the door handle.
    Embarrassment and shame flooded her, along with a rush of bile. She swallowed both down and crawled from the bed. She needed to get out before the guy in the shower—what the hell was his name again?—came back to the room.
    Biting back a whimper of pain, she slipped off the bed and dragged the dress over her head. Her bra was still tangled up in the straps but she had no idea where her underwear had ended up. A vague memory of him pulling them off her with his teeth came to mind and made her knees wobble.
    What had gotten into her—besides him? She just didn’t do things like this. Ciara Mary Callahan never drank too much and never, ever, ever went home with strange men she met in bars. He would think she was an absolute floozy, and apparently, he’d be right. Should she leave him a note? Leave her number? Apologize? Ask what the hell his name was?
    Feeling utterly mortified, Ciara did the only thing she could think of and grabbed her purse before she slipped out the door like the coward she was. She really didn’t want to face him and she still had to go back to her hotel and explain everything to Leigh.
    It was a fight to keep the contents of her stomach inside her body as the elevator swooped down to the lobby of the hotel. Ciara tried not to make eye contact with anyone as she crossed the marble floor and pushed out into the steamy New