Dariel's Sunday Excerpt: "Dark Sentinels Book Two: Torin"

 Something primal inside her responded to him instinctively though. His sandpaper voice, every word on the verge of a growl, had sent tingles through her, and when he’d grasped her hand, she’d had to back away to keep from being sucked in; the latter was not an option. She’d fought too hard to crawl out from under her father’s thumb, and she wasn’t about to end up running from everything she’d built. And what kind of teeth were those? He had pearly whites, but they were all pointed, as if he’d had them filed down and sharpened.
“Want me to see you out, Ms. Bates?” James asked, interrupting her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, glancing around the office, a quizzical look on his weathered face.
“Uh, no. Thanks, James, but that won’t be necessary.” She smiled, attempting to put him at ease. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed that controlling hooligan to upset her so easily. She also couldn’t believe Cindy had neglected to tell her Mr. DuMont was like hot sex on a big stick.
The moment she’d spotted him, she’d wanted to melt and climb up his big, hard body or climb him and then melt. Either way, climbing and melting would have been involved, and quite a bit of panting. He had dark hair, just a bit too long to be respectable, was nearly basketball star tall, and was equipped with shoulders made for clinging, if she’d  been into that sort of thing. But it was his eyes that really did it for her—stormy, gray with impossible, sultry black lashes. Visions of pouring rain, earth-rattling thunder, and her limbs wrapped around his powerful body flashed into consciousness.
How could someone who looked that good make me want to slap him so quickly? Nobody interrupts me! If Richard Bates hadn’t taught her anything else, it was to command respect. Putting a potential client out of her office might have been a tad over the top, but at that moment, it was an act of self-preservation.
Her body reacted with a pleasant sizzle that tingled from her breasts to her core, just thinking about his eyes again. He’d been wearing a metal pin on his lab coat with his name engraved on it, and he’d said something about taking off work to see her. He must be capable of being somewhat civil to keep a job in the medical field, doesn’t he? That voice of his wove magic along her spine with every word he’d spoken, despite his bad manners.
Steph shook her head, grabbed her purse and briefcase, and stepped onto the elevator. Cindy had 

warned her that the residents of Wild Lands were a strange lot. If his teeth hadn’t been so white, she 

might not have noticed them, but it was almost as if he’d flashed them at her; that alone made her 

wonder what was going on out there. She chuckled. Well, it is called the Wild Lands, probably for 

good reason, she mused. And why the hell am I still thinking about him anyway?