Devyn Quinn brings the heat

Fellow Aphrodisia author Devyn Quinn has offered up a fabulous story for the Summer Heat giveaway.
WHen some readers hear that Devyn’s books are a bit on the darker side of romance, they might hesitate to give them a try….and they’d be wrong to. This woman does write with a dark edge, but she never fails to give you the hot sex and sweet emotion romance readers crave. Check out the excerpt below, and get hooked on Devyn Quinn!
Julienne Blackthorne grew up in the school of hard knocks. A near brush with death leaves her broke, alone and scarred for life. Her future is in ruins, and her soul little more than ashes.
The chance to begin anew lures her back to the family home her mother abandoned over twenty- one years ago…and straight into the unwelcome embrace of the man Cassandra Blackthorne feared most.
Morgan Saint-Evanston.
Dark. Brooding. Sexy as hell. He’s everything a woman desires, yet his own frightening secrets have tainted his heart and blackened his soul. He is a man Julienne will dare to take as her lover, even as he plunges her into a cultic realm where swords and sorcery still rule, and human souls are open barter.
Excerpt: Echoes of Angels
Morgan nodded. His dark gaze skimmed her body. She was acutely aware of his appraisal. His penetrating stare under hooded eyes was an intimate one. He didn’t conceal the fact he was examining her closely, with a slight smile and the devilish expression in the depths of his eyes.
“You like what you see?” She offered her best profile, giving him plenty of time to look her over. Eat your heart out over something you’ll never have.
He rewarded her with a flicker of interest that seemed sincere. “I will admit you are a vision to behold.”
“I’m surprised you’d compliment me,” she said, offering a shy, relieved smile. Maybe, she prayed, she was off the hook.
“I can give credit where it is due,” he retorted then continued, with a shattering precision of insult, to parry his compliment. “But you are still a long way from what you were. I daresay overly thin women are not attractive.”
Dismay flooded through her. She’d thought he was pleased to see her yet his words indicated differently. Knowing what she’d been through, he had the gall to make such a cruel remark. In heels, she might have stood taller than he did, but somehow he had a way of making a person feel two inches high.
Julienne frowned. Apparently, what Danielle Yames had told her was true. Morgan simply didn’t care if people liked him or not. “I’m not going to stand here and listen to you hurl insults at me,” she said.
“I am not detaining you from leaving.” He stepped aside, affording her ample space to pass him. “I shall not delay you further.”
“Good.” Deciding to try for a bluff and see if she could get by him with her hide and her dignity intact, she set her body in motion. Sighting squarely past him, she started on her way. Twenty little steps and she could be safely past the den of the lion. Out of danger, free to go.
Freedom was not so easily gained.
Morgan’s hand shot out, seizing her arm and jerking her maliciously to a stop. His grip was none too gentle, and his black eyes seemed to slice right through her hastily erected defenses before he hooded them.
He cocked his head toward Ashleigh’s bedroom. “Goaill soylley coimhead?”
Julienne lost all her pretended composure. His words didn’t have to be spoken in English for her to understand their meaning. He had asked her if she enjoyed watching. He knew she’d been standing behind the door. She felt his hand burning through the thin material of her sleeve. She bit back a cry of pain as his fingers dug deeply into her arm, perceiving the willful savagery in his grasp. The air around him sizzled with the sheer animal maleness he projected.
She licked her lips, drawing in a quick breath. Oh, he was so damned gorgeous, from the careless tousle of his black hair to his fathomless night-colored eyes that held the promise of pain…and of pleasure. Coiled, crouched like an untamed beast, muscles sinuous under his impeccable clothing, he made her shiver. His very touch aroused her, and it took all the willpower she had to fight her attraction to him.
How could a man she half-despised do this to her? He was the kind who took women, used them then threw them away after he’d had his way with their bodies. Emotions didn’t figure into his equation. He was cold, calculating and utterly ruthless in the way he manipulated people.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she flared, pretending to be insulted by his accusation. “I didn’t see anything.”
“Too bad. You missed the best parts.” The pressure of his hand grew stronger, surer. “Might have been more interesting if you would have come in and joined us. You look like the kind of woman who takes pleasure from fornication.”
Julienne violently twisted away from his grasp. He had a way of phrasing his words so they would dig deep, inflict the most damage. For the first time since arriving, she remembered the sex-tapes he’d purchased, the ones James Hunter had tried to sell out from under her. Had he…watched them? Stupid question! Of course, he’d looked at them, appraising the value of his purchase. One million, five hundred thousand. That’s what James had demanded for the DVD’s. And Morgan Saint-Evanston had paid his price.
“I’m not interested in threesomes,” she mumbled through uncooperative lips, refusing to look at him. How could she? She knew what he was hinting at.
Morgan shrugged and stepped back. “You might have learned something.”
“Not from you!” Julienne flung, narrowing her eyes in anger. She clenched her hands, pressing them to her sides. “Besides, by the look of that lip,” she quipped. “You couldn’t satisfy one woman, much less two.”
His hand rose to his mouth, and he rubbed his slightly swollen bottom lip with the tips of his fingers. “Ashleigh likes the taste of fuil, of blood.”
She smirked. “Oh, yeah? Well, too bad she didn’t wait until she got her lips around your co—”
Morgan silenced her with a single finger cutting through the air. “Let us not go there.” His frigid eyes glittered with offense.
Julienne moistened her lips so they would shine enticingly. Judging by his expression, she’d gone far enough. Almost. Fearlessly, she returned his scowl with a widening of her artificial smile. She pretended to glance around, as if looking for someone.
“Where is Ashleigh?” she asked, lacing her tone with a dose of saccharine she didn’t feel. “I hope she isn’t ill.”
He rewarded her with a suspicious scowl. There were times when his eyes became like sharp chips of living black obsidian that longed to gouge and cut, and this was one of them. “She will be joining us shortly.”
“Smiling, I hope.”
“Why would she not be?”
“Well, if I had just been fucked by you, I know I wouldn’t be.” Delighted that she’d managed to pluck the needle from her skin and jab it in his, she steeled herself for the slap she was sure she was about to get.
Hearing the words, delivered in such a baby’s-breath voice, Morgan threw back his head and laughed. The firm line of his jaw relaxed; and for the first time, he delivered a true, almost dazzling smile.
“Very good!” He applauded, dropping his aura of inflexible and unnatural composure. “There is bone in your spine after all.”
Morgan reached into his vest pocket and slid his cigarette case out. Opening it then selecting one, he planted the brown cylinder of tobacco between his lips, sliding his free hand into his trouser pocket for his lighter. Giving it a firm shake, he flicked it, lifting it to the tip of his cigarette. Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled through his next words. “I was beginning to doubt you belonged to this clan.”
Julienne leaned into the fragrant, curling smoke. The twinge in the back of her throat became a nagging ache. Oh, the love of a cigarette! Just what she needed to calm her nerves. And here I’ve gone and insulted the hell out of him. Why can’t I keep my fat mouth shut? Maybe he’d be a good sport and shrug off her cutting remarks.
“Can I have one?” It was worth asking.
Morgan reopened his case and peered inside before snapping it shut with a resolute click and returning it to its place.
“No.” That said, he turned and walked away without a backward glance.