Phaze Books Excerpts

Alpha Male Incorporated: Under Your Protection by Marie Rochelle

2011-02-14T21:16:00.001-08:00

Jax Irizarry leaned back in the leather chair and stared at the mortal in front of him.

“You have to protect her,” Frank demanded as he slammed his hand down on the desk. “You’re the best bodyguard in town. I’ll be willing to pay you extra if I have to, but I won’t accept no as an answer. With all of your powers, you’re the best and most capable person for the job. I don’t want anyone else looking after my goddaughter but you.”

Frank leaned in and pointed his index finger. “You owe me. For years, I’ve kept your secret about being a vampire because we’re friends. I would never betray your trust like that.

“I understand that you don’t advertise your ‘special’ nature and skills. I wonder what your other clients’ reactions would be if the truth got out. I mean, I know not to believe in the Hollywood hype about vampires because you’ve told me numerous times all of those aren’t accurate accounts of real vampires, but do you think your other cliental would so be understanding and not run from you screaming in fear?”

Jax glared at his closest human friend. “Is that a threat?”

Frank flopped into a chair and wiped the perspiration off his brow. “I’m desperate. Come on, Jax. Man, do this for me as a favor? It’s not like I think you’re going to harm Sahara or anything. You’ve told me you don’t feed off of humans for food and I believe you. So, what is it going to be?”

Jax Irizarry had been a vampire for over three hundred years and Frank Chantel had been his friend for the last fifteen plus years. Granted, he hadn’t seen much of his friend while he’d been overseas, and certainly all the time he’d been spending building his business since returning had kept him from being overly social. And Frank was as much to blame with his frequent business trips and his focus on his goddaughter’s budding career. But Jax would do anything for his buddy, just not this. He was retired for a reason and he was going to stay that way. It didn’t matter how much Frank wanted his help. He wasn’t going to do it. There was nothing Frank could tell him that would make him change his mind. The last time he was hired to be a bodyguard someone very close to him got hurt and he wasn’t going to allow his job to put another person he cared about in danger.

“Frank, you know I think of you like a brother, but I haven’t been a personal bodyguard for over five years. I like working behind the desk now. I’d be more than happy to recommend some other excellent bodyguards that could do the job as well as me. Hell, I think they might even be better since I’ve been out of the field so long.”

“I can’t believe you won’t help me after everything we have been through with each other,” Frank snapped as he jumped up from his seat. “Some psycho is threatening to kill my goddaughter, and I thought my best friend wouldn’t think twice about helping me out. But, I can see that I was wrong. Never mind. I’ll take care of it myself.” Storming away from the desk, Frank went out the door slamming it shut behind him.

“Frank. Wait one damn minute. You don’t have a clue how to be a bodyguard!”

Jax jumped up from his chair to go after his friend but ended up sitting back down. He wasn’t going to bother Frank now—not while he was so pissed off at him. Later on he’d stop by Frank’s house on his way home and talk to him about finding another bodyguard for his goddaughter. Hopefully, Frank would have cooled down by then and be more open to taking his advice. He would never recommend anyone that he didn’t think could handle protecting Frank’s family member. He only hired the best at Alpha Male Incorporated.

Honestly, sometimes a part of Jax hated that Frank knew about his secret because he liked it better when his friend had only thought of him as human. Frank found out quite by accident. He had invited Frank over to his house to watch a football game and during half time Frank asked him for something to drink. Before he could give it to him Zander had called him on the phone about a business problem and when he left the room to talk to his brother, Frank wandered into the kitchen to get the drink himself. When he opened the fridge he found human food along with the bags of blood that Jax bought from a vampire owned business that supplied it to vampires who no longer wanted to feed off humans. .

It was Frank’s terrified screams that had alerted Jax to the problem. God, it had taken almost all of his strength to hold Frank down when he tried to leave the house while he explained why he had the bags of blood inside his fridge.

Against all odds, Frank finally accepted the truth about Jax and his strange family, and that acceptance had cemented their friendship.

Jax shook his head. It was hard to say no to Frank, but he had to stay firm.

Was that Frank I saw leaving like he was furious at everyone in the world? What in the hell is wrong with him? He’s usually in such a good mood. The words touched Jax’s mind about two minutes after Frank left his office.

Swinging his eyes over to the open doorway, Jax found his younger brother Zander standing there with his shoulder braced against the door jam. He hated how his brother could ease up on him without making a sound; it was one of Zander’s vampire powers that his sibling was very proud of and constantly did to bother the hell out of him.

“Yeah, we had a disagreement and he’s mad at me. I’ll go to his house later on and apologize,” Jax answered. “Also, can you stop talking to me telepathically when no one else is around? You know that I like having a real conversation whenever possible because it makes me feel a little more human.

“Fine, I hear you about the telepathic thing. I might stop. I might not. You never know with me. Care to tell me what he wanted you to do?” Zander came into the room and took a seat in front of his desk. “Frank isn’t the type of guy to ask for help unless it was something very important.”

Running his fingers through his blond hair; Jax fell back in his chair thinking about what Zander was telling him. He hated to admit it, but his baby brother was right. In all of the years that he’d known Frank, he’d really never asked him for any kind of help. And the one time that Frank had, he blew him off like it wasn’t important enough.

“His goddaughter is getting threatening emails and letters from a crazed fan,” Jax said as he thought back to the conversation with Frank.

“Yeah, she’s a singer or something, right?” Zander said.

“Right. He wanted to hire me as her personal bodyguard, but I told him no, that I was no longer in that line of business. I suggested I would be more than happy to recommend someone else who was as good as me.”

“You have to realize because Frank knows you’re a vampire that he believes you have the ability to protect her better than anyone else. He’s right. You’re the best man for the job and you know it too. You shouldn’t have been so quick to blow him off. I think you should take it him up on his offer. All you do is spend most of the day behind that desk telling other people what to do. Was that really your vision when you started Alpha Male Incorporated ten years ago?

“Didn’t Thorsten and I both sell our own places of businesses and relocate here with you, so we could have a family business under one roof?” Zander questioned. “We wanted you to achieve your dream just like we did ours. At first, it was a huge change for us but we worked it out and everything runs smoothly now.”

Jax frowned at his brother’s jibe. Alpha Male Incorporated was born because he wanted to still stay in the field of personal security even if he wasn’t out there in the field anymore. With his unique abilities, he would be able to train other bodyguards to protect their clients almost as well as him.

Ever since he could remember his true calling was to protect people and he didn’t want to let it go because of one bad experience from his past. In addition, he wanted to have a business that involved his brother’s security firm and cousin’s growing business.

Alpha Male Incorporated was that for him.

“My vision for my business has changed over the years and you know it has. What’s so wrong with that?” he demanded. “I still make a good living behind the scenes instead of being front and center all of the time.”

“Nothing,” Zander sighed getting up from his seat. “I just never thought of my one and only brother as a coward, that’s all. Well, I better go. Thorsten is expecting me for an early dinner and you know how our cousin can get when he doesn’t get enough food to eat.”

His brother gave him a long searching look. “I really do think you should take the job because who knows, you might actually end up liking being back out there in the thick of things.” Zander waved at him and then left the room closing the door behind him.

Damn Zander! He knew how much he hated being called a coward. Now, Jax was actually thinking about taking Frank up on his offer.

****

“I can’t believe you tried to hire me a bodyguard.” Sahara “Coco” Chantel complained as she closed the journal in which she wrote all of her song lyrics. Tossing the thick black book on the mattress, she got off the bed and stood in front of her godfather. She was upset as hell that Frank had gone behind her back and talked to another person about her stalker, especially a bodyguard. Why did he go and do that to her?

“The letters and emails are probably just from an overzealous fan, at the most just a lonely person who wants to get some attention and decided to pick me. I’m not taking any of the threats seriously and neither should you.”

. This wasn’t a crazy person who was going to be hiding in the bushes watching her every move. She was getting more fame with her new song, but she wasn’t anywhere near Alicia Keys fame yet.

“Don’t read more into it than there is, Uncle Frank.”

Frank was her godfather, but she felt more like his daughter than his goddaughter. She’d moved in with Frank when she was thirteen years old because her parents died in a car crash.

Sahara never thought that she would get over the searing pain of losing both of her parents at the same time, but she did with the help of her Uncle Frank. He was the one who introduced her to music and her love for it had grown.

Now, she was on her way to being on the Top 100 Billboard charts. She had already performed on a couple of local televisions. If everything worked out okay she was scheduled to be on Saturday Night Live at the end of the year. So, why couldn’t her Uncle Frank understand that she wasn’t concerned about the threats?

Yeah, she might have an overly attached fan at the moment, but that didn’t mean the person was really going to come after her. Most of the time letters like she had been receiving came from a person with too much time on their hands. Sahara believed that everything would die down in a couple of days and then she could get back to doing what she loved the most...writing and performing music.

“Can you please call and tell this Jax not to come?” Sahara complained. She wasn’t ready to deal with a strange man watching her every single move all of the time. “I really don’t need a babysitter. I’m almost twenty-six years old. I can handle anything that comes my way. Don’t you remember how you raised me to be independent?”

Frank eyed her as he rubbed his hand across his bald head. “Yes. I remember that conversation quite well. But, I didn’t think you would decide to take my advice and use it now. However, you don’t have to worry. Jax turned down my job offer.”

“Thank God!” Sahara mumbled under her breath as she sat back down on her bed and picked up the journal. “I’m glad he did because I might have turned up my bitch meter another notch and scared him off.”

Laughing, Frank shook his head at her as he turned to leave the room. “I don’t think you would have caused Jax to do anything that he didn’t want to do.”

“How can you be sure?” Sahara asked looking up from the newest song she was writing.

“I’ve known Jax a long time and nothing rattles his cage. Sometimes, I think he has ice water running through his veins. I swear I’ve never seen him blink an eye at any sign of danger. And he has special...abilities. That’s why I thought he would be the perfect man to watch over you while you were out on the road performing.”

“If you say so,” Sahara said as she looked away from her uncle and back down at the current lyrics she was having a huge issue with.

“I still think you need to get someone to watch over you, sweetheart. You’re getting more and more famous since doing those two late night talk shows and you know I’m right. This person could be very dangerous. Please let me help you,” Frank pleaded. He paused at the bedroom door. “It would kill me if something happened to you. You’re the only family I have and I want to keep you safe to the best of my ability.”

Sahara heard the fear in her Uncle Frank’s voice and she felt bad. He was only trying to help her and she was fighting him so hard. She should give this more thought because he wouldn’t be this worried about her safety if a real threat wasn’t involved.

“Okay, how about I think about it tonight and give you my answer in the morning?” Sahara suggested, hoping Frank would agree and let it go for the rest of the night.

Frank turned away from the door and looked at her like he didn’t quite believe her. “Are you telling me the truth? Will you really think about getting a bodyguard? If you are, I’ll call Jax and see about talking him into taking the job. I know I can get him to take the position despite the problems he gave me earlier.”

Sahara wasn’t ready to give Frank her answer, but if she didn’t tell him something right now he wasn’t going to leave and she needed time alone to work on her music. He was becoming too much of a distraction to her thought process.

“Okay, call Jax and see if he can come by here tomorrow. After I talk to him, I’ll make a decision but I need to finish working on this new song.” Sahara tapped her pen against the journal hoping her uncle would finally get the hint and leave.

“Alright, good. Have fun working on your song and don’t worry so much over it. I know it will be wonderful just like the rest of them.” Uncle Frank walked out the door shutting it with a click behind him.

Sahara laid her pen down on the bed next to her leg. She wasn’t going to be able to think about a song now, not with her mind on this Jax person her Uncle Frank wanted to hire. She could only imagine what he would look like. He probably looked like he would belong with the secret service—dark suit, military haircut, and shades. Maybe the addition of a bodyguard would piss off her ‘fan’ even more than the person already was. Truly, before now; she wasn’t taking all of the letters, cards and emails seriously, but after hearing the alarm in Frank’s voice she might have to rethink her decision.

Silver Wings edited by Leigh Ellwood

2011-02-06T20:41:00.001-08:00

“This is bloody ridiculous,” Sean Carlyle muttered into his glass, glaring darkly across the crowded ballroom.

“Gently,” Professor Emerson, his mentor from the aeronautics department at the University of Oxford, advised as he joined the younger man at the edge of the crowd. “We wouldn’t want any displays of discontent with all our dear friends in the room, would we?”

“Friends!” Sean scoffed, managing to keep his voice soft despite the urge to yell. “France is a two-faced monster biding its time, and the rest are little more than satellites orbiting the sun of our empire.”

“So choleric tonight,” Professor Emerson said with a slight headshake. “Dare I ponder whether your opinion of the American has changed at all over the past few days?”

“That,” Sean said with a grimace as his gaze recaptured the figure that drew so much attention that evening, “is not an American. That is a caricature of an American.” Good God, could no one else see that the insolent newcomer was playing with them? His ridiculous long leather coat, the tall, broad-brimmed hat, those strange boots and the well-cut, tailored-to-look-rugged clothes beneath it all…the entire ensemble screamed “cowboy,” when any rational human being would have made an effort to fit into his surroundings, not stand out. Yet, there the man stood, drawing attention like honey drew flies and keeping it once people were close, with his smoothly good looks, his soft, strange American drawl, and a way of moving that captured you and refused to let go.

He was doing it again. Looking at Sean with that tiny smirk on his face, and Sean had been caught staring. Again. He jerked his gaze away, angry at himself for becoming enthralled by the abrasive foreigner. “Explain once more why I can’t have James as my pilot?”

“Because,” Professor Emerson said with exaggerated calm, “he cannot be spared from his duties at the Academy of Military Science, to which your Department of Technological Innovation is directly answerable. He’s the head flight instructor for our airship pilots, and with the way things are going now it looks like he and his students will be having more than enough to do before the year is out. So we had to look elsewhere, but of course hiring a Frenchman, who are the next most qualified group of individuals, was out of the question. So, the Board of Regents turned to America. ” He shrugged minutely. “Whether you care to acknowledge it or not, Sean, Mr. Winters has an excellent reputation as a pilot, and nothing we’ve seen so far has disabused me of his competency.”

“I could always take her up myself.”

“That,” the professor’s voice turned hard, “is possibly the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say, and I endured some very odd responses during your undergraduate years, Sean. You must have a pilot, someone to free you up to deal with any technical difficulties that may arise during the trial. It is the minimum safety requirement for the ridiculously dangerous endeavors that you manufacture for yourself, and may I say I would be much more comfortable if you went up with a three or four man crew.”

“Impossible, we can’t take the weight,” Sean replied instantly.

“So you’ve told me. Repeatedly. And I listened, my boy, and now I’m asking you to do the same.” He laid one hand on his former student’s shoulder. “You’re an excellent aeronautical engineer, and one of the finest inventors I’ve ever known. Your ideas are brilliant, but your motivation verges on obsession, Sean. You need balance in your work, or someday you’ll push an idea too far and wind up killing yourself, and where would that leave the rest of us? James has never reigned you in as much as I would like, and he’s no better at making a good impression in elevated social circles than you are.”

Sean opened his mouth to object, but Professor Emerson didn’t let him. “No, Sean. You need to give Nicholas Winters a try. Get a feel for his piloting skills, see whether you can work together, and keep in mind that having him around to charm our myriad of investors means that you don’t have to.”

“He seems to be able to do that, at least,” Sean grudgingly agreed, his gaze pulled back to the tall American against his conscious will.

“Give some thought to the source of this odd antipathy, my boy, and try to exorcise it,” his mentor advised. “Right now Mr. Winters is all we have, and the competition against France is in less than three months. It’s very important for the nation’s morale that we win.”

“I know.” Professor Emerson left him alone after that, but he was more distracted by his internal thoughts at this point than the charming, aggravating American on the ballroom floor. After a few more minutes and a few preoccupied interactions, Sean excused himself from the soiree and made his way back to his laboratory. That the American’s presence had given him the liberty to do so this early in the evening was the first thing he felt remotely grateful to the man for.

He loosened his tie and cravat as he walked, calculating the next step in the construction process of his new airship even as he cursed the circumstances that took James’ participation off the table. Yes, he was needed at the Academy. Yes, he hadn’t been able to tell Sean “boo,” much less reign in his sometimes disastrous creativity, but he was an excellent pilot, and that skill more than made up for the occasional error in judgment. At least, nothing fatal had happened so far.

Sean pushed that tremor of doubt to the back of his mind. He didn’t need his own subconscious giving him distractions, not when he had so many other things to worry about. Concrete things, like whether or not his new pilot was worth a damn at anything other than posturing, and whether he had correctly calculated the tensile strength of the armatures for the balloon. He’d gone over the math time and again, and it was rather pointless now to worry about it since there wasn’t time to rebuild them if he’d gotten it wrong, but still…

The laboratory was empty except for himself and the ship. Sean walked to it, freshly captivated by her beauty even though he saw her every day. Polished brass fittings gleamed in the faint lamplight, dark wood and pulleys and wound metal cord working together like an orchestra to create the opus that lay before him. She was coming together, and she would be perfect. She had to be perfect.

Sean closed his eyes and ran a hand over the railing, delighting in the flawlessness of it even as he wondered if he should have made it slimmer. Light, but durable. Tough enough to withstand the elements but simple enough that a two-man crew could operate her. So many equations to balance in his mind, and that didn’t even begin to take into consideration the off-putting factor of a new pilot. A new American pilot, someone who wouldn’t feel the same burning drive to win that an Englishman would. Someone who might not be willing to make the sacrifices it would take to win. Someone who might be afraid of the risks…although from the little he knew of the man, the concept of risk wasn’t frightening to him.

What did he know of Nicholas Winters, anyway? Sean retrieved a spanner from one of his graduate student’s toolkits and began checking the tightness of the bolts. He liked to work as he thought through things, as it seemed to make them clearer somehow. For starters, the man was American…well-established, that fact. He was something of an arrogant bugger as well—although, to be fair, that was par for the course with pilots. The work was difficult, demanding, and exciting. A little arrogance was to be expected, but the easy self-assurance of this man made Sean grit his teeth. Winters had fought for the West during the United States’ few years of internal strife not long ago, and apparently had distinguished himself. He had flown an airship without pause across the whole of the country which, given the size of that country, was saying something. He had excellent recommendations from Oxford’s contacts in New York, which was also saying something if they could be persuaded to praise a Westerner. He was astonishingly attractive when he smiled, and he smiled quite often…

A sudden sound jerked Sean out of his increasingly uncomfortable reverie. He turned his eyes towards the door, but there was no one there. The place was empty but for him and his ship. He was hearing things. He sighed and turned back to where he had been inspecting the hull. Strange, he hadn’t even remembered kneeling down. He trailed his fingers over the dark, polished surface of the wood and smiled. Here was where her name would be carved, eventually. It was bad luck to name a ship before her launch, and while Sean wasn’t really superstitious he also didn’t feel like tempting fate. When she was ready, he would christen her with a name. Then they would fly and they would win, no matter what the French could conjure or how distracting her new pilot turned out to be. Even though, right now it seemed like he was going to be very distracting indeed.

Hunter's Moon by Brenna Lyons

2011-02-06T19:52:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

June 25th, 1982

“You smell wonderful,” Antoñio Polero informed her in his heavily-accented English.

Gabby Farris giggled as Antoñio nuzzled her neck. The tall, blond European was incredibly playful. She sighed as his lips caressed the skin of her neck, beyond warm to scorching and insistent. He pulled back for a moment.

“Oh, God. Don’t stop,” she groaned. His mouth felt incredible.

Antoñio wasn’t her usual type, and Gabby still wasn’t convinced that this date would last past a goodbye kiss at her car. In fact, she was fairly certain that it would end there. Playful or not, Antoñio’s eyes lacked some essential warmth that she preferred in men.

“As you wish.”

Antoñio ran his tongue over her throat in a little circle and started to drop his face to her again. Her blood heated at the attention.

“Back off,” a strange voice ordered.

Gabby retreated in shock, her eyes opening wide in the darkness. She tried to turn to the sound of the voice, but stopped in confusion as a warm splash plastered her shirt to her body. Antoñio backed away with his hand over what appeared to be a deep knife wound at his throat. Gabby jerked a step back with a squawk as a giant of a man brushed past her.

“Back off, Polero.”

Antoñio’s eyes widened in fear as a knife blade the length of a ruler flashed up in the moonlight. Gabby pulled her own knife from the sheath behind her back. It was a pitiful little piece of metal that her brother had given her years ago, the blade about the length of her palm, but Jeff believed a woman should never be unarmed.

Without thought of the size of his weapon, Gabby struck the stranger in the ribs, brushing past his heavy leather jacket. He recoiled, dragging her along in her surprise. Gabby gasped as he met her eyes. Fury burned there. For a moment, she was incapable of leaving that locked stare.

She forced her gaze to Antoñio, pleading for an explanation, anything that would help her find the ground beneath her feet. Her blood ran cold at the fangs clearly visible in Antoñio’s grimace, the red eyes glowing in the near-black night. She might have thought she was hallucinating were it not for the fact that one of the fangs was broken. That was too much detail to explain away.

What have I done?

Gabby squawked again as Antoñio disappeared into thin air. He didn’t run or hide. One second, he was there; the next, there was nothing as far as she could see. Gabby jumped back, feeling her knife slide free from the giant’s body.

Her rescuer screamed that time. It was less in pain than in pure frustration.

Her knife clattered to the ground, and the smell of the blood on her shirt struck her, making her retch. Gabby backpedaled, shaking while the man cleaned his knife on the grass and sheathed it. She wasn’t sure exactly what she just did, but it had been the wrong choice.

He turned to her, ran his hand over her throat slowly, and nodded. “I’m sorry for frightening you,” he told her in a gentle voice.

Gabby stared at the growing stain of his blood on his jeans. “Oh...God.” She dragged the denim scarf from her hair and tried to staunch the flow from the wound she’d caused. “What did I do?” She couldn’t keep the tears from falling.

His hand covered hers, the other patting her back in comfort. “It’s okay. You need to calm down and come with me.”

“Yes. We have to get you to a hospital. Right now.” She hadn’t realized how severe the bleeding was.

“I have a doctor waiting for me.” That sounded sincere.

“You do? But—”

He didn’t let her finish. “Do you have a car nearby?”

She nodded. “In the lot.”

“Okay.” He reached down, retrieved her knife, wiped the blood on his jeans, and settled it into her sheath for her. Then he took her by the elbow and guided her back to the lot, while she tried to keep pressure on his wound. He walked quickly, as if he hardly noticed the fact that he was bleeding everywhere.

Gabby steered him toward her car with every intention of taking him to a hospital, but he shook his head.

“You have to go. Go home and wash your clothes immediately. Get a shower. If you don’t wash it off right away, it will burn your skin like harsh chemicals.”

“But—”

“No need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

He ran his fingertips over her tear-stained cheek and smiled at her, a carnal smile that made her heart flutter. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “This is what I do, Gabrielle.”

Gabby felt the air leave her lungs and fought to find the strength to answer. “How do you know my name?”

He shrugged with a sheepish grin and handed her wallet back. His dark eyes glittered in amusement and a black curl fell over his eyes in a boyish look. “How else was I supposed to find you later?” he asked.

She managed a weak smile. “Planning on getting even?” she joked.

He laughed softly. “With a strong, beautiful woman like you? Never. I just wanted to let you know that there was no permanent injury, at a later date.”

Gabby blushed, her eyes scanning down his body to the slight bulge in his jeans. “If you show up with news like that, I may be tempted to make you prove it. After all, a big, strong man like you—”

What am I doing? I was just attacked by some creature. I’m nursing my personal knight in shining armor, who I just stabbed, and all I can think about is getting him into bed.

The man rose to her challenge in more ways than one. “Promise me that, and I will be on your doorstep in one week to collect on it.” He checked his watch as if marking the time for that date.

Gabby licked her lips slowly. “Next week, I will be eagerly waiting for you. But, I warn you, I intend to make sure every inch of you is in full working order.”

“I wouldn’t stand for less.”

His perusal of her made her knees week. “So, do you want me to call you ‘he’ forever, or is there something else I should call you?”

“Stephen.”

“Until next week, Stephen.” She slid into the seat, and he held the door for her. A gentleman to the end.

Stephen closed the door behind her and motioned her away. He stood and watched her leave, not moving from the spot he occupied until she was almost out of view.

Gabby groaned, not at the offer she’d made him but at the fact that she’d stabbed him in the first place.

* * * *

Stephen Hunter pressed his left hand to the stab wound in his ribs while he drove with his right. His black Firebird hummed under him, and he was glad that he went for an automatic. He’d bleed out if he had to shift. His mind was split: one part on ghosting so the beasts wouldn’t converge on him in his weakened state, one part on reaching the manor house, and one part assessing his wound.

The knife had been tiny compared to a sacred weapon, maybe four inches of blade but wickedly sharp, a woman’s blade. He laughed harshly that the damned beast Polero hadn’t laid a claw on him, but a woman had nailed him well. It was an impressive bleeder. He would have left the blade in place to minimize bleeding, but Gabrielle had been so startled when that baby-stealing beast dematerialized that she pulled it out before he could stop her. She shouldn’t have nailed him, but he’d been so intent on getting a deathblow on Polero, he had let his concentration on anything else falter. Worse, the time she’d cost him had allowed Polero to escape again.

Still, Stephen couldn’t blame Gabrielle for her reaction. He had unghosted and landed his bleeder on Polero as he saw the beast go for her throat, but she hadn’t seen his fangs. Gabrielle had believed the man was about to lay a playful kiss on her throat. It was a ploy the turned had learned from Veriel, courting a woman before using her.

Had she waited an instant longer to strike her blow, she might have realized that the blood covering her was the foul, black blood of a beast. She hadn’t, but Stephen was sure that she wished she had.

He replayed the shattered look in her pale blue eyes, the swollen, tear-stained cheeks. She was lovely and strong, and that heartbroken expression had convinced him to show her she had done no real harm.

His body remained in a fierce arousal at her offer. He wasn’t sure if he’d take the young woman up on it. Not that he’d complain about a night of sex with the spirited lass, but it smacked of deceit in getting her to bed. Was it honorable to accept an offer given under such duress? He’d have to consider that carefully.

Stephen pulled up to the gate at the manor house and reached his left hand out to the access panel. He had to reset the machine once when he hit a five instead of a two with his shaking, blood-slicked fingers. Bleary-eyed, he made it through the gate and into the underground garage.

He’d stumbled from the car and was halfway to the stairwell when Corwyn burst out. Stephen had only a moment to consider when he had let his ghosting slip before he lost his balance and landed in a heap on the concrete, cursing under his breath.

Corwyn flipped him to his back and pulled his jacket away to check his wound. His brother swore fluently, then ordered Colin to call Michael, one of their doctors. Stephen cried out as Corwyn applied pressure to the wound.

“It’s all right,” Corwyn assured him. “We’ve seen worse. Why didn’t you let us track you?”

“Had to protect her.”

Corwyn nodded in understanding, but his eyes burned in Blutjagd. “What beast did this to you?” he demanded.

Stephen barked in laughter, then grimaced as it jarred the wound. “No beast. A woman,” he panted out. He smiled at the memory of the petite blonde with the flashing blue eyes and the spray of freckles over her nose and cheeks.

“A woman?” Corwyn asked in disbelief.

Stephen’s smile spread. “What a woman,” he quipped as he slipped into the darkness.

* * * *

June 26th, 1982

Corwyn smiled as Stephen opened his eyes. He could tell immediately that his brother was lucid again. “Good evening. It’s nice to see you looking better.”

Stephen winced as he shifted on the bed. He scowled at the IV line in his arm. “Get this damned thing out of me. You know I hate them.”

“You didn’t give us much choice.” Corwyn started peeling the tape from the shunt, removing the apparatus and leaving Stephen with a gauze pad on his arm while he ditched the IV in the bathroom. He sliced the bag of fluid into the sink before dumping the empty shell into the trash can.

“How long have I been out?”

“About twenty hours. Next time, let us track you. We actually had to transfuse you.”

“I couldn’t,” he decided miserably. “I needed to protect her. By the time I knew she was safe, I was in no shape to take on a beast. I had to keep ghosting until I got home.”

“Gabrielle?”

Stephen looked at him in shock. “Yeah. Gabrielle.”

“You talk in your sleep.”

Stephen darkened.

“She made a real impression on you.”

“Yes, I suppose she did.” He ran his hand over the injured spot on his ribs. “All four steel inches of it.”

“I wasn’t referring to her blade. I was referring to the petite pixie you’ve been talking to for the last day.” Corwyn raised an eyebrow suggestively. “I never realized you were so—inventive with women.”

Stephen smiled weakly. “She has a body made for adventure,” he admitted.

Corwyn nodded. “Would you prefer to eat here or in the kitchen?”

Stephen scowled as he rolled stiffly to his feet. “You know the answer to that.”

“I’ll see you in the kitchen.” Corwyn didn’t wait for Stephen’s nod before heading down the hall. He took the stairs two at a time, considering Stephen’s wild ramblings.

His youngest brother was only twenty-four, far younger than modern-day Warriors typically chose a mate. Still, Hunter needed heirs. With Anna lost to them, it was up to his brothers to provide those heirs as soon as possible.

Corwyn sighed. There would be no heirs from Colin. Had Colin not had his own disastrous brush with printing, he might someday submit. Short of Stephen dying without heirs, there was no chance of that happening. If he did submit, Colin would approach mating as a loathsome duty to be fulfilled. Corwyn shuddered at the thought.

No, the heirs would come from Stephen. If his mad ramblings were the beginnings of printing and Ms. Farris would have him, Corwyn would facilitate the match in any way he could. Gods forbid, if Stephen’s printing turned as sour as Colin’s had, Corwyn would let Stephen have his healing time. Eventually, one of his brothers had to print and produce children, else Hunter would die.

Raised To Be His Own by Brenna Lyons

2011-01-31T19:19:00.000-08:00

Ragath strolled out of her rooms and through the nearly-deserted keep. It was early, and she’d risen for the night before most of the household again.

One of her stomachaches had woken her. She’d asked Jonus about them, but he’d assured her many women suffered fleeting aches as they matured. There was no cause for concern...troublesome, but not dangerous.

They seemed to be occuring more often of late. She shivered in nervous energy; Jonus said that meant she would soon be ready to become his bride in more than name.

She nodded to one of the maids diligently performing her duties, either an early riser like herself or one who performed her duties in the day so as to remain unseen and out of the way.

All of the servants were female. Ragath had asked Jonus about it once, and he’d supplied that women weren’t safe with more than one man about. Men were, by nature, destined to prey on unprotected females, to kill to take women from other men.

The only way to safeguard a woman was to send her into her future husband’s keeping as a child, completely isolating her from other men, not even transporting her from household to household as she grew enough to be sexually appealing. What they could not see, the other males would not covet.

According to Jonus, Ragath had been in his care since infancy. Certainly, she had no memories of her mother and father. Jonus’s household encompassed the whole of her memory.

The women in his employ had acted as nannies, wet nurses, and later as maids and confidants. Her every need was met, her every whim catered to. According to the maids, her clothing was the finest they had ever seen.

When she suffered her blood, her clothing was heavy enough and dark enough to hide the unsightly blood rags and any stains that might occur. When she wasn’t, like now, her clothing was sheer, exposing her body to the man who would be her husband.

He hadn’t touched her sexually yet, but that would come soon. She’d suffered her blood for four years, which meant she was of age for him to exercise his rights to her bed.

Ragath didn’t fear the bedding. It was a natural step in a woman’s life, and Jonus was an appealing male. Of course, she’d never seen a male besides him for comparison, but still he appealed to her.

What more could a woman ask for? Since females were not exposed to groups of men and permitted a choice in marriage, being attracted to your mate was all any woman could hope for, and the gods had granted Ragath that boon.

She headed for Jonus’s rooms. There was nowhere in his household she was forbidden to tread, and the same applied to him. Only the servants had boundaries.

A strange sound stopped her short just outside the archway to his rooms. She worked at it. It almost sounded as if Jonus was in pain. Concerned, she hurried inside—and stopped short again.

The servant was one of her confidants, a girl only a year older than Ragath herself. At the moment, she was laid out on Jonus’s weapons table, her legs circling Jonus’s predictably nude body, her back arched to facilitate Jonus’s suckling mouth latched onto her breast.

For a moment, Ragath stood there, hurt, betrayed, her emotions warring. Fury won out, and she launched at them, her fists clenched tight.

I will kill them. How dare they!

Jonus moved so fast, she could hardly track it. In the next moment, Ragath was pressed to the wall, Jonus’s body crowding hers, his hands fisted around her wrists, like the time he—

She forced that thought away. It was one of the few times he’d exercised his rights as lord of the keep and her body over her, and it was an experience she did not want to repeat.

His breath came in hot, little panting breaths that caused a disconcerting reaction in her traitor body.

“Leave us,” Jonus ordered.

The skittering sounds would be the damned servant collecting her clothing and making good her escape. Her footsteps hesitated, and Ragath turned her head, glaring at the other woman. At least the bitch had the good grace to look pained and remorseful.

Jonus motioned his head sharply, and the servant fled, holding her gown to her body.

The moments passed in silence. Finally, Jonus addressed her.

“You wished to see me, Ragath?”

“I most certainly did not want to see you like that,” she snapped back.

He sighed. “I have told you about men,” he reasoned. “Men have hungers.”

“Men are vermin. Men are insects.”

Jonus smiled. He laughed at her insults. “Yes, we most certainly are. You are barely of an age to bed, Ragath. Be reasonable. I must have a way to sate myself until you accept me.”

She wanted to deny it, but he had a point. How many times had she been told that males lacked control when faced with females? How cruel was it to see her daily, from the time she was an infant, and know he had to wait to touch her? How else could a male survive such a thing besides taking other females to his bed until he was free to claim his bride?

“And when I do accept you?” she challenged. “If men are such vermin, with no control when presented with the female body, will you continue to bed the servants, when you have mine?” If he said yes, he would certainly never have her willingly. Why should he?

His smile disappeared, and he shook his head solemnly. “When I have you, I will have no want or need of the others. You have my vow on that.”

“But...” There was something left unsaid, she was sure.

He flattened his body to hers, letting Ragath feel the weight of his erect cock against her belly. “I will need your vow that you will be mine always.”

She shook her head, confused by that pronouncement. “I am yours, Jonus. My parents struck the deal with you long ago.” Even if she refused him, which was simply not done, where would she go? How would she? The bars and gates alone would trap her within the keep.

“No. You must choose. You must give your vow. The day you do, I will stop taking other women.”

Ragath worked at that without return. What difference did her vow make? The deal had been struck without it. There was no way to rescind it. Females weren’t permitted to show their faces outside the keeps, save when one was transported to her husband in infancy. What difference did her vow make?

“Your choice,” Jonus repeated. “Are you prepared to make that choice?”

A sudden and unexpected fear made her lightheaded. Why had no one told her the question would be asked? Even knowing it was a foregone conclusion that she would be Jonus’s, saying the words frightened her.

He nodded, his jaw tight in fury she could see like a dark cloud around him. “Then I will continue to seek out other—”

“No.” The word was out before she could stop herself. She had no right to order Jonus about. He was her future husband, her master. He was lord of the keep and her body.

One brow went up in challenge. “You mean to accept me?” he asked calmly.

Gods, what a choice! “Why do you need that vow to bed me?” Perhaps if she understood his needs, it would come easier.

A smile curved his lips, and his cock jerked against her. “I do not need it to bed you.”

Ragath shook her head. “I do not understand.”

“I can bed you at any time you wish it.”

“But—”

“A man has needs, Ragath. The only way to meet them all is to vow to be mine...and only mine...for all time. Until that time, if needs arise that you cannot or will not fulfill...”

She pulled at his hold, intent on striking him for saying something so hurtful. He held her easily, without exerting effort that she could see. She wasn’t certain why she still tried to strike him. It wasn’t as if she’d ever succeeded before.

“Will you choose to fulfill...some of my needs?” There was something dark and seductive in that.

Ragath considered it. “On one condition.” She nearly winced at what she was saying. There had never been conditions between them before.

He tilted his head, his interest seemingly piqued by her choice of words. “And that is?”

“You will ask me for what it is you...need. If I cannot or will not provide it, you are free to seek it elsewhere, but not without asking me first.” Her heart ached at the idea of refusing him, of sending him to another to sate what she should as bride sate, and it pounded in terror at the idea of making a vow to be his forever, though she had no idea why it would.

“Agreed.” There was no hesitation in his answer. “At the moment, I need to taste. A woman’s mouth, her breasts, her...sweet sheath. Will you offer me that?”

Her body reacted fiercely to the mental image his words created for her. “Yes. Taste.”

His head titled and came down, his mouth playing at hers. He’d kissed her hands, forehead, and cheeks before. He’d brushed his lips against hers before she retired to bed every night since her blood started to flow.

This was different. His lips were soft; they played at hers as if seeking something she couldn’t name.

He pulled back minutely. “Open for me.”

She hesitated, confused by the request. Ragath parted her lips, shivering at his breath warming her mouth.

Jonus did the same, and his tongue emerged, dipping into her mouth, stroking her lips. Ragath captured it between her lips, stealing a kiss.

He moaned at the move, sliding his tongue free as if enjoying the sensation as much as she did. “That is right. Play with my mouth. Explore.”

Encouraged, she repeated the move with his lower lip...then the upper. Ragath dipped her tongue between his lips, and Jonus snaked his own around it, setting off a firestorm of need.

In the next few heartbeats, their mouths meshed, lips wide open. Their tongues dueled and danced.

His hands loosened and left her wrists, caressing down her arms. When he cupped her breasts in his big hands, she took advantage of the freedom to lower her arms around his neck.

Her knees weakened in the passion washing over them. As if he could feel it, Jonus pulled away, guiding her further into the room.

Jonus didn’t take her to his weapons table, as she’d feared he might. She was forbidden to touch the table or anything on it, and his displeasure when balked was a fearsome thing.

He took her to his bed.

His mouth left hers, and he started working the gown up her body. Her nudity wasn’t a shocking thing. She was nude for her physical training, for sleep, and bathing. Jonus was not unwelcome at any of those activities, though he’d never shared her bed, to her knowledge. This was the first time she’d been disrobed with the idea that Jonus would execute his rights as husband.

The material slid over her head and extended arms, leaving her skin to skin with him. Ragath clenched her fists for a moment, reminding herself that he’d seen her nude form for her entire life.

Jonus tossed the gown away, and he lifted her to the bed, following her down. She’d been to his bed from time to time. When she was a child with nameless nightmares, she’d been encouraged to seek out his bed for comfort.

There was nothing comforting in this. It was hot and harsh, exciting and frightening.

Jonus took his time, sampling her lips...then the depths of her mouth. Sometime during the latter, a meal appeared silently on the bedside table. Part of her burned in jealousy that it might have been the same servant he’d been so engaged with; another hoped it was, so the bitch would see that Jonus was hers alone.

Left to her own devices, Ragath would have ignored the food, but Jonus demanded she eat. He watched her, his gaze hot with the promise of more. When she offered him food, he begged off, claiming he’d indulged earlier. All the while, the tension rose between them, the need to have him continued. At last, her stomach protested the idea of more. Not that she was full. Rather a strange ache and tremble made the thought of eating when she might be in Jonus’s arms unpalatable.

As if he read the thought from her mind, Jonus turned her beneath him again. His lips parted hers, his kiss making her lightheaded.

Time lost all meaning. Ragath resorted to ordering what passed between them in rare moments of lucidity.

His mouth on her breasts brought her off the mattress and hard against him. Somewhere between there and the disconcerting play at her naval, the second meal arrived. She managed a few bites and a glass of wine, then she invited his kiss again.

Jonus was unhurried in his tasting, and her body rioted for more. Her breathing caught in her lungs at the first stroke of his tongue between her thighs. It escaped on a rush at the second.

Then he was everywhere, suckling at the forefront, tracing her woman’s seam, licking from front to back. Strange sounds escaped her throat, and Ragath reached for him.

Her heart skittered at Jonus pinning her wrists to the mattress. Fear faded in light of his continued attention to her rising pleasure. Ragath forced her hips up, encouraging him.

His groan vibrated against her; the sensation tightened muscles all over her body and stilled her breath. The next suck on the sensitive bundle released that breath in a shout of surprise. The tension inside her rebounded, tightened, loosened again, more powerfully with each movement. Her head spun, and she moaned out her confusion. What was he doing to her?

His mouth left her, and Jonus snapped an order for someone to leave them. Ragath whimpered, her mind working at the truth that he’d spent the night tasting her, another corner arguing that it couldn’t possibly be the late meal he’d been turning away.

He returned to her body, tasting more avidly, forcing her to a more powerful response than the last time. Her inner muscles clenched on emptiness, and she felt every finger-width of the channel Jonus would soon fill.

As if the thought summoned him, he levered himself over her, holding his weight up so his cock bobbed between them. Ragath stared at it—curious, frightened, ready yet not.

I should. He has given me such pleasure. And her channel was empty and aching for a filling.

No. It is too soon. Wait. The time is coming. Ragath didn’t doubt it. It wasn’t time to take him to her body.

Jonus grumbled a harsh curse. He knew. Would he seek out another female to do what she was uncertain about?

At a loss to stop him, she touched his cock. She’d only done so once before, when she’d been very young. At the time, it had sent Jonus into a rage, and she’d fled to her nurse’s arms in confusion. This time, his hungry expression attested that the tension in his body was sexual in nature.

Encouraged, Ragath stroked him. Jonus shifted his weight, brought one hand to hers, and repositioned her hand. Once her fingers circled his girth, he guided her and squeezed her hand tighter where he needed it to be so, his breathing going ragged and his eyes red in arousal. When she’d learned what he wanted, he released her and left her to bring him pleasure.

His sounds were harsh, and his hips started moving. Ragath stared at him, stunned at his fierce hunger.

“Harder, Ragath. Make your hands tight as your virgin sheath will be.”

She complied, and his eyes slid shut. His hips sped, and her body responded to it. Would he thrust into her as avidly? Cream flowed from her at the thought.

His hair swung wildly around his face, and his expression hardened. Then he roared, his male fluids splashing against her stomach and breasts. Ragath stared at it, shocked at the sight. There was so much, much more than she’d thought there would be.

“We will bed fully soon, Ragath,” Jonus promised.

She nodded, touching the slick of his seed with trembling fingers. This was what would give her a child? What magic was there between a man and a woman?

Jonus used the linens on his bed to wipe the precious fluid away. Then he lifted her and carried her to her room.

The servants scrambled to do his bidding. Jonus passed Ragath into their hands with orders to bathe and feed her. Then he turned to leave.

“Wait,” she called out. She’d refused to take him into her body. Was he off to sate himself in another? Perhaps in that damned servant he’d been playing with earlier?

He turned, offering her a smile. “Be at ease. I simply have business to deal with, Ragath. Sleep well.”

“Will you join me?” It was a question she’d never asked before.

Jonus hesitated, for the first time in her memory seemingly uncertain. “Perhaps... I am weary, Ragath. Perhaps...another day would be better.”

She nodded, feeling dismissed as she rarely had with Jonus.

He paused, shook his head as if to push away an unwelcome thought, then walked away.

“Lady Ragath?” one of the older servants called her.

She turned, noting the water being poured into the tub for her. All things considered, a bath might be the best thing. Ragath always thought best at the restful moments.

It was the perfect temperature, cool but not cold. Everything in her life was perfect.

Not everything.

Again, the servant’s face was in her memories. Jonus often sent servants away to other duties in his holdings. If she asked, would he send that one away? But, he left the keep on business. Even if he sent the girl away, what was to stop him from sating himself in her when he was away?

My vow. He said he would take no others, if I gave the vow.

Not yet. The time is not right.

That meant accepting that he might bed others until she gave it. It was an imperfect solution.

Then again, if life were perfect, how boring would that be?

On that thought, she settled into the tub and closed her eyes. It had been years since she’d bathed herself, most likely since she’d started to bleed. It was Jonus’s opinion that a lady should have to do as little for herself as possible. Hers was a life of leisure—reading, practice, and music, while others did the work. Bathing herself was something of a guilty pleasure.

Her servants had told her males sometimes chose to dismiss servants and bathed their brides themselves. Her heart ached that Jonus hadn’t chosen to do so tonight.

She chided herself. Jonus had business to see to. He’d spent the entire night with her and would likely forego some of his sleep to see to the business he’d neglected.

What business is it? Perhaps he had to order troops or the overseer of his fields. Ragath had seen neither of those things, but she’d heard Jonus speak of them. Like everything else in her life, scores of others toiled while she amused herself...and Jonus.

Soft cloths stroked at her sensitized skin. The scents of herbal soaps and food tantalized her senses.

And it struck. The pain knotted her stomach as it rarely had, an intense, breath-stealing fist. She pitched forward around it, grunting, her teeth and eyes clenched tight.

The movement sent water splashing to the floor, and she shuddered. A wild need to run gripped her, but she couldn’t walk like this, let alone run.

And where would I run? Why would I? There were no answers to those questions.

“Lady Ragath!”

Hands pulled at her, and she shook her head. It had to ease. It always eased.

“To the bed,” one of the older women ordered. “Before she drowns.”

That might have seemed extreme any other time, but this time, Ragath wasn’t certain it was. The pain was worse than usual, and she was lightheaded in response. Hands supported her and stared to lift Ragath out of the water.

The pain intensified, a searing in her gut that doubled her fully. Her tenuous control in the face of pain shattered, and Ragath screamed. Tears pooled in her eyes and ran down her face.

It ended. Her muscles unknotted, and she went boneless in relief. The servants lifted her to the floor and wrapped her in a length of cloth.

Whispered conversations made no sense. The smell of food turned her abused stomach, and Ragath sent it away in a rough voice.

Probably at a loss for something better to do, they dried her and settled Ragath into her bed. Suddenly, Jonus joining her wasn’t so important. She needed the sleep rushing toward her.

Born To Fly Wild As The Wind by Aliyah Burke

2011-01-31T18:39:00.000-08:00

Verity Andrews sighed with contentment as she pushed to her feet and wiped her dirty hands on her khaki shorts until they were clean. The warm air from the Mediterranean Sea cooled the sweat from her body. Through her mirrored shades she scanned the coastline of Kríti, or Crete to the rest of the world. She’d come here years ago to complete her thesis in archeology, focusing on Minoan history, and had never left. It was her day off and she was out enjoying her time near Kalives. She was exploring around Kastelli Hill that lay east of the town and housed the remnants of the Castello Apicorono, a fortified settlement identified by some scholars as the location site of ancient Ippokoronion. She stared down at the long sandy beach that ran alongside most of the town. Kalives was a big tourist attraction sitting at the entrance to Souda Bay; it drew many visitors with the sea on one side and low hills on the other.

It was early Saturday morning and she caught movement off to her right and turned her head. Oh my! A lone man jogged along the path heading in her direction. The morning sun glowed off his tanned body and only enhanced her vision of the muscular naked torso. Have I said oh my? She swallowed and did her best not to stare, but tall, muscular and tanned made it very difficult. His strides were smooth and even, suggesting he did this often. As he passed her, she turned her head in time to follow his action and watched him until she could no longer see him.

Black hair, tanned skin, and an angular face were all she saw before he was gone. Well, that and one hell of an ass in those shorts. Well defined arms and legs too. Fanning herself, Verity took a few deep breaths before she headed back down to the town.

She ambled along, staring at the pathways littered with mosaics and the walls in which stones in shapes of different creatures were stuffed. Fresh baked bread and pastries lent their scents to the air and Verity inhaled them greedily. When she reached the small outdoor café she visited every time she came to this town, Verity sat down and waited for service.

“Kaliméra, Verity. Wonderful to see you again.”

Looking up, Verity smiled at the older man who stood before her, a white apron wrapped around his middle. She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently after he placed a small blue ceramic mug on the wrought iron table before her. Verity knew it was coffee, served just the way she loved it; gliko. Very sweet. Since being over here she’d come to love her coffee served what many considered to be “Turkish”, where the loose grounds are in the bottom of the small cup, and the coffee is very strong.

“Yassou, Apostolos. It’s wonderful to see you again.”

“You stay away for far too long, my dear. We’re not that far from Iraklio.”

She heard the subtle reprimand in his voice. “I know. I’ve just been busy.”

Apostolos looked at her and nodded in understanding. “Your usual this morning? I’m assuming you’ve been out visiting around Kastelli Hill.”

“You know me well, Apostolos. And yes, my usual. Please.” Releasing his hand, she picked up the coffee he’d set before her.

“Be right up.” He walked away calling out her order in Greek.

Swallowing some of the hot brew, Verity sighed and removed her sunglasses. The wind picked up, moving through her hair and she turned her head before tucking some strands behind her ear. Her breakfast arrived and Apostolos joined her. This often happened because she was almost always the only customer at that time, or one of a few. After breakfast, alone with a topped off cup of coffee, Verity glanced behind her and froze.

Oh damn!

Moving down the sidewalk across the narrow street was the man from earlier. The runner. He still jogged and looked just as smoking hot as he had when he’d gone past her the first time. This time, his head turned and he looked at her. Verity couldn’t explain the feelings that rocked her. Her heart pounded and her hands shook. As nonchalantly as she could, she faced forward again and finished her coffee. Setting her cup down, Verity grabbed her glasses and walked inside the café to pay.

“Adio, Apostolos. I’ll stop by before I head back to Iraklio.”

He bent over her hand and kissed it. “Until next time, Verity Andrews.”

She left with a wave and a smile. Slipping her sunglasses on, Verity headed down to the beach. She had a few hours to kill before she met up with her friends. Very few people were out on the white sands and she strolled along, hands in her pockets.

Up ahead of her she could make out the figure of a person running. What are the chances? The way her body began to react she knew it had to be the same man. It wasn’t logical, she hadn’t even spoken to him, not even a simple “good morning,” and yet he was making her lightheaded. The closer he came the more parched she began to feel.

Fingers clenched in her pockets when he slowed and veered a bit closer to her. By the time he reached her he was almost walking. Jogging in slow motion. Sweet mother... The man was downright mouthwatering. She ogled him, grateful for the way her glasses hid her searching gaze. Dropping her stare to the sand, she worked her way up.

He wore tennis shoes with no socks. Powerful legs and a lean waist led up to his torso which was well—very well—defined. She made out with ease the six-pack he sported. His arms were strong and made her think things like him holding her in bed with nothing on. When she reached his face it was as if he knew she was checking him out, for there was an arrogant smirk on his lips. He flashed a grin, and straight white teeth shone out against his tanned skin. As he passed her, she saw his eyes, cornflower blue with thick curly lashes.

Verity couldn’t help it; she turned with him as he moved past her. Her own mouth curved up when he jogged backward for a bit, his masculine grin growing wider before he winked and touched his temple with two fingers in silent salute. She chuckled and waved before continuing her walk.

Oh, what a man like that could do to me. Oh, what I would like to do to him. Verity snuck one more glance over her shoulder and bit her lower lip as his tight ass vanished from view. Wow! “Uh, uh, uh. They just don’t make men like that anymore.”

Later on that morning when she met up with some friends and colleagues there lingered a faint satisfied smile on her face as that man’s image hung around in her mind.

“You have a big suspicious grin on your face, Verity. Find something this morning?” Kasey Schmidt asked.

Verity winked and nodded. “Oh boy, did I.”

“I know that sound. You found a man,” Kasey announced. “Give.” She scooted her chair closer.

“Well, I didn’t actually meet him. Just saw him jogging. Three times.”

“Three times, just today?” Kasey whistled low. “It’s fate. Third time’s the charm. He checked you out too, didn’t he?”

“A bit,” Verity admitted with another grin.

“And how did he look?” That warm feeling filled her again as she described her handsome jogger to Kasey who punched her in the shoulder after she finished and said, “Remind me to go with you on your next early outing.”

“You don’t like getting up before the sun, Kasey.”

“For eye candy like that, I can learn.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “The power of persuasion.”

“Hey, it’s called adaptation.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Verity asked, a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

Kasey punched her in the arm again and flipped her, off causing Verity to burst out laughing.

Verity took a drink of her fruit juice and sighed with satisfaction as she was drawn back in to the conversation going on around them. It was late morning when they split to each go their own ways. Getting a bottle of water to carry with her, Verity waved her farewells and walked back up the beach, threading in and out of the numerous people who now lined the waters of Souda Bay.

Wow, I have a half a day to myself. What should I do? At her car, she climbed in and headed for the nearby village of Kalami. It wasn’t long before she had passed behind the fields of bamboo to locate a hidden beach, Kyani Akti, as it was known by the locals. Sitting on a large rock, Verity took a stick, and drew abstract designs in the damp sand as she enjoyed the beautiful weather. A while later her phone rang. She answered to discover her friend Larry inviting her to a party that evening. With the time and location set, Verity pushed to her feet and made her way back to her car. There was a need to shop for something other than shorts and a tank top to wear.

Prisoner of Desire by Yvette Hines

2011-01-24T17:52:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

“Ten o’clock,” she’d said.

“Fireworks.” She caressed his arm.

“Take me to the moon.” She strutted past him in butter-tight jeans.

The memory faded as Steve headed toward the moonwalk exhibit with sure strides as the Fourth of July fireworks went off behind him. All of Claremont County had their gazes fixed on the midnight sky. No one paid attention to him as he made his way to Lilly. Lilly Jackson was a hot little spitfire who was well known in town. She wasn’t a whore by any stretch of imagination, but neither was she a choir girl. When she wanted something, there was no shame in her asking for it.

As he moved closer to his amorous rendezvous, his heart began to race. His skin had tingled since Lilly gave him a sly wink, maneuvered her way beside him, and whispered to meet her in the moonwalk exhibit. Thirty minutes had gone by and finally the opportunity to get away had come. Slipping away from a public affair for a lustful assignation was not like him. Correction: it wasn’t like the Steve Ewing that everyone expected. No, Steve Ewing was a banker, a manager, a conservative man to the Claremont County resident.

His father had been the bank manager for years in this town, and he’d taught him young that reputation was everything. More like drilled it into his head. So he’d set his goal to please his father.

Pushing thoughts of his father out of his mind, Steve advanced toward the exhibit. Glancing one more time over his shoulder, he assured himself that the town folks were still head tilting it toward the sky. Deciding not to use the front door, he went over and tried the side employee entrance. He was grateful when it opened.

The lamps around the carnival area broke into the semi dark room, illuminating her form as she lounged on one of the simulated hills facing the wall of stars. He could only see the top of her head. Her hair, normally chestnut brown, appeared like an ink river running down the moon hill.

Pulling the door behind him, the room became a dim blanket around him. It was hard to see anything. He was glad he located her body while the door was open. The rocky foam pillowed under his feet, squishing and rising. When he arrived at her side, her body was obscured by the shadows. He would have enjoyed seeing her face, but he didn’t need to for the reason they were here.

Kneeling beside her, it didn’t take him long to realize that she must have dozed off waiting for him. Smiling, he leaned over her, considering all the delicious ways to awaken her. Leaning into her, he could smell her scent. Weirdly it reminded him of Christmas, ginger and honey. Earlier he’d thought she smelled of wild flowers, but with so many people milling around he must have been mistaken.

Disregarding the sweet aroma, he began to whisper in her ear all the erotic things he wanted to do to her. How he wanted to stroke her pussy and feel it quiver in his hand. That he wanted to lick every drop of cream from her clit. Finally, he whispered how he wanted to bury his cock balls deep inside of her over and over again, until they were both dizzy with pleasure.

She took a deep breath and moaned softly in her sleep, letting him know he was getting through to her.

He smiled and settled himself beside her.

“Are you going to join me, beautiful, or do I have to do this alone?” Kissing the side of her neck, he continued to talk to her, coaxing her out of dreamland.

* * * *

Mandy’s sensual dream was built around a faceless man doing a good job of turning her body inside out. His voice sounded velvety and made her imagine silk sheets and hot bodies.

The little kisses he laid along her jawline caused tingling sensations on her skin, and she couldn’t help shifting toward the tormenting mouth. Her dream lover didn’t hesitate, he took command. Mandy was thrilled to be in his arms, in the embrace of a man who took control without being asked. Outside of her dream, men didn’t respond to her that way.

As the kiss deepened, she relaxed into the wonderland of her nocturnal imagination. Giving over to the fantasy, she was amazed at how real everything felt. The taste of his tongue as it dipped into her mouth, tangling with her own. How her lips tingled as he dragged his tongue under it.

Her nipples were tight and achy, causing her to sigh with relief when his strong, warm hand palmed one. When he pinched her nipple, she nipped his bottom lip, hoping he understood how much she liked it. Her panties were soaked and her jeans would soon find themselves with the same fate.

“Mmm, you are a sex kitten, aren’t you?” He squeezed harder.

There go the jeans, she thought as more wetness pooled between her legs.

“Yes,” she whispered, not wanting to end the dreamscape.

When the weight of his body settled onto her, she spread her legs wide to receive him. She was mad that even in her mind they were both fully clothed. She wanted to feel the intimate touch of his skin pressing into her own.

Her fantasy man must have anticipated her need. Shoving her shirt and bra out of the way, he lowered his head, seizing one needy nipple into his mouth. His suction was firm and steady, giving her an occasional flick of his tongue to soothe her.

It didn’t soothe, but the opposite—it was torture. Thrusting her sex against the thick bulge in his jeans, she began to grind against him, trying to give her throbbing clit satisfaction.

When he released one nipple for the other, she came. Fisting his head to her breast, her body shuddered underneath him as she moaned into the darkness surrounding her.

It was a dream she tried to remind herself even as the orgasm racked her body.

“Hot damn, girl, that was beautiful. I want to feel that.”

Before she could utter a comment, his swift hands unfastened her button and lowered her zipper. Her heart was racing with excitement she wanted his touch as well.

When her dream lover’s hand slipped past her panties and caressed her bare skin, she opened her legs wider. She wanted to be out of her clothing, she wanted him out of his. The desire to feel and see this man of her delusions was strong.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re soaked.” He fingered her clit and dipped a finger down her slit. “Is all this cream for me?”

Her mind was having a difficult time processing words. Every thought was centered between her thighs, concentrated on the movement of his hand.

“Is all this cream for me?” This time there was a commanding tone in his words as he scissored her pulsating clit between two fingers, demanding a response.

Electricity shot up her spine, and she cried out in a low husky voice she didn’t recognize as her own. “Yes, it’s for you.”

This was a dream, she had to remind herself. Definitely a dream—no man existed in Claremont County with this type of unassailable authority.

“Good.” Those toying two fingers stroked down and pushed inside of her deep and sat still.

She was ready to cry out and beg him to move those thick fingers.

“Ride me,” he demanded.

Ride him? Her hesitation was brief, the strength in his voice left no room for disobedience and she didn’t want to defy him. Not now, not while her body pleaded for satisfaction. If her dream man wanted her to fuck herself with his hand, she would. Spreading her legs as far as they would go, she began thrusting her hips toward him.

Pulling back and lifting, she pushed herself toward ecstasy. Clutching his ass, she found a rhythm.

She was rewarded by him licking her nipple in time with her thrust. The light brush over her sensitive flesh made her body tremble.

“Harder,” he growled against her skin.

Obeying him, she instantly began slamming her sex into his hand with all her might.

In response he bit the tip of her nipple and she came. The explosion consumed her, she sank her teeth hard into her bottom lip as her body quaked and rockets went off in her ears in rapid succession like it was the Fourth of July.

Those words brought clarity and a reality as her body quieted and the external blasting settled down. It was the Fourth and fireworks were going on outside of her head. This was no dream.

Who is this man?

“Mommy, I want to see the moonwalk.”

“No, I want the bumper cars, you promised me, Mommy.”

The voices of bickering children came before Mandy could question the man.

“Shit!” he snarled. Removing his hand, he quickly rolled away from her. “Maybe next time.”

His face was covered in shadows and she was sure hers was also. The lights were still off, only leaving small twinkling stars of light around them.

The people outside seemed to be moving closer to them. Mandy felt his presence move away from her as she scrambled to right her clothing before the intruders invaded their love nest.

Two doors opened simultaneously, the front door bringing in a mother towing three kids and the side door where her starlight Casanova was exiting. She was grateful she was still on her knees when the bright lights outside shone on the face of her lover a second before the door closed.

Steve Ewing.

* * * *

Exiting the moonwalk exhibit, Steve shook. Damn, if the fireworks show had been just ten minutes longer he could have gotten some relief for the erection pressing hard against his zipper.

Who would have ever thought that Lilly responded to forceful commands? The way the orgasm rocked her body when he bit her nipple made him groan in memory. Lilly Jackson, his match—he couldn’t believe it.

“Steve! Steve!”

He halted his strides at the sound of his name. Turning, he saw Lilly lightly jogging toward him. Smiling, he hoped she would ask him to take her to his place and finish what they had started.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” He stepped closer to her.

A little winded, she said, “I’m sorry. I got held up in a conversation with my mother and you know how that woman can talk.”

He frowned. It had only been a few minutes since they were in the exhibit. Maybe she was just excited to continue their escapade. “It’s no problem.”

She flipped her brown hair over her shoulder. Something about her coloring looked odd to him.

“Well, since we didn’t get to meet in the moonwalk, how about we walk into your house and see where it takes us.” Closing the gap, she ran her hand up his chest and her scent met him. Wildflowers.

“You didn’t go to the moonwalk?” he questioned.

Taking it as an accusation, she slapped her hands on her hips and said, “I told you, it was my momma’s fault.” Her thin lips formed a pout. “I’ll make it up to you at your place, Steve.”

If Lilly wasn’t in the moonwalk, then who the hell was?

Glancing over the top of Lilly’s head, which wasn’t hard to do, he tried to see who was milling around the building. But, it was no help—all of Claremont County now shuffled around the carnival area.

Shaking his head, he glanced back at Lilly. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be.”

“Steve?” Disappointment etched into her cream-colored features.

Even if he wanted to take Lilly up on her offer, his erection had subsided with the knowledge she wasn’t the firecracker that had taken him to another world.

“I’m sorry.” Turning, he walked away. His fingers were still tingling, reminded him how it felt to be inside of the nightingale, whoever she was.

“Steve!” Lilly shrieked.

Strutting to his car, he lifted his hand to his face and inhaled the scent still lingering. Ginger and spice and everything nice, that’s what his mystery woman was made of.

He would find her.

Arrested Heart by Yvette Hines

2011-01-17T14:35:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

“Ohhh,” Danielle sighed.

She would not have been shocked if her pussy caught fire at that moment. Every ounce of blood in her legs had pooled between her thighs and pulsed in her clit as her loving admirer worshiped her with his mouth. He’d wasted no time in pushing her feet toward the roof of her squad car and spreading her legs. She was his delectable feast and he was thoroughly enjoying the main course with the avid attention of his mouth.

His tongue teased her as it slid along her slit. She would never cease to be impressed by the strength and agility of it. Palming the back of his head, she pushed him closer to the place yearning for him. His mouth drew on the lips of her sex, then circled around her clit and sucked it, making her toes curl.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she attempted to stifle her moans. Soon, recalling that there was no one else around on the south end of the Claremont Wright Country Club golf course at three in the morning, she let her sounds of ecstasy free, coaxing and praising his oral talent.

“Oh, baby, that feels so good,” she cried as he swept his tongue from her ass to the throbbing nub.

His open-mouth kiss on her whole pussy made her grip a fistful of his hair and yell, “Don’t stop!”

She could tell his arousal level had increased along with hers by the intense heat of his tongue. When they’d begun, his tongue had been warm, a small contrast to the night air, but now it was as if she were being licked by a flame and she loved every minute of it.

Strong fingers stroked her juicy center, then one pressed against the puckered skin of her ass, letting her know what was to come. Excited, she pushed against it, encouraging him to proceed. When it entered, her clit felt as if it had swollen ten times its size, almost painful. Her thighs began to shake. Her orgasm was imminent.

Torn between wanting to come and wanting the sensations to last forever, she was losing her mind. Giving in to the pleasure, she let herself go, fucking both his mouth and finger. He was the only one who could do this to her, the only one who had ever done this to her; willingly she fell into an erotic insanity.

Coming hard, she screamed and heard a bird respond somewhere in the distance. As orgasmic spasms still shuddered through her body, her lover moved up her torso.

Feeling drugged, she stared into his hazel eyes. Her gaze traveled the distinct angles of his face, his summer tan barely visible in the low glow of the interior car light.

He brushed the back of his hand along her cheek. “You are beautiful and delicious,” he said, her scent a pungent sweet spice mingling with his breath.

Leaning up, she kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth, tasting them and loving the mixture. She broke away. “Said the spider to the fly,” she answered, smiling.

Chuckling, he slipped his thick cock inside of her, making her breath catch. His size may have been impressive, but his use of it always left her begging for more. Stretched and full, she squeezed his ass and urged him on. Being intimate with him consumed her. She felt at peace. Whole.

Rotating his hips, he stroked the sensitive spot inside of her, along her upper wall. Arching her back and undulating her hips against him, she matched his movements. The air caressed her breast as he pushed the sides of her uniform shirt aside and her bra up. He continued to thrust, as he brought his head down and gave each breast his attention. The sucking and caressing of each nipple caused tingling sensations to race along her skin and her clit began to ache.

His thrusts became more insistent as he buried his face in the curve of her neck. Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulder, she enjoyed his weight on her body and felt his trembling echo her own as they both progressed rapidly toward completion.

Muscles bunching and tensing under her hands, he climaxed. His release sparked her own, and she saw stars for the second time that night. “Robert!” she shouted in ecstasy.

“Danielle…you turn me inside…out,” he panted.

Giggling, she danced her fingernails along his bare back. She didn’t know at what point he’d lost his t-shirt before joining her in the car, nor did she care.

After a quick kiss, he pulled away and dragged his body back out of the open door. “So tell, sweetheart.” He adjusted his clothes. “Do all cops get aroused during rescue missions and apprehending bad guys? Or just you?” Reaching up he pulled his shirt from the roof of the car and put it on, giving her a wicked smile that made his eyes dance in the moonlight.

Sitting up, her face became hot. Not because of embarrassment, but because she remembered just how aroused she’d been. Standing, she ran her hands down the buttons of his now fastened shirt. “I don’t know. Neither do I care as long as I’m the only cop you’re satisfying.”

“Only you.” He laughed. “When would I have time for anyone else? You’re insatiable.”

“I like to keep it that way.” Yanking her sports bra back down over her breasts, she began looking around for her panties. She’d hate to lose them on the perfectly manicured golfing green and have them turned in to the authorities and her cream get analyzed for DNA identification. In Claremont County, people weren’t expected to have scandalous sex in public. It was in the unwritten rulebook. It was bad enough her squad car would already leave tire tracks.

“In a few hours this course is going to be crawling with men.” Robert tucked his shirt into his slacks.

“Yeah, old retired men and social climbers.” Spotting her underwear on the other side of the back seat, she turned and bent forward to reach for them. “So, what are your plans for the remainder—”

If the loud smack of hand on flesh wasn’t enough to grab her attention, the stinging warmth radiating from her right ass cheek did. Her spine tightened instantly, and heat danced down from her bottom straight to her pussy and ignited in her clit. She dipped her back lower and offered her plump dark ass to the moon and Robert. “Please,” she panted.

Obliging her, his hand made contact again, this time on the other cheek.

“Morrre,” she planted her feet in a firmer stance and leaned back expectantly. Regardless of the two orgasms he’d just given her, her sex began to pulse again and become drenched with moist excitement. Until this moment, she hadn’t missed their usual play before intercourse. Now she almost regretted her pleas for him to take her when he’d shown up at the twentieth hole.

Dragging her out of the car, he pushed her against the door, her hanging pants cushioning her back.

“You want more?” His body was flushed to hers and his glorious hands stroke her stinging bottom.

As if she were an alley cat in heat, she rubbed her body over his and her sensitive nipples beaded in response. “Robert, you know I do.” He couldn’t miss the trembling of her body, she wanted the erotic play that only Robert could give her.

“Then come home with me,” he demanded.

She buried her face on his chest and mumbled, “You know I can’t.”

“Yes. If you really wanted to, you could.”

The sadness in his voice was almost her undoing, but she knew she had to stand firm. “Like you said, Robert, it will be morning soon. If your neighbors see—”

Stepping back, he lifted her chin, raising her gaze to his as his thumb stroked her bottom lip.

She was lost in his hazel eyes.

“I don’t care about what my neighbors or Claremont County sees--”

Moving away, she kept her back to him as she put her panties on. “I know you don’t, but I do.” Facing him, she snatched her pants off the door. “I’d like to keep my job.” Pulling on her forest green pants, she attacked the button of her tan shirt next as she slid her feet in her shoes.

“Danielle--” Moving toward her, he still towered over her.

She was five-seven in her thick soled patent leather shoes, but she would never measure up to his six-foot frame.

“No, Robert, we’re not going to debate this. As you said, in a couple hours this place is going to be packed. It’s Saturday morning and you should be out here with them. You’re trying to make partner at the law firm--”

He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth. “Being in a relationship with you isn’t going to jeopardize my chances at the firm.”

Smiling at the brush of his lips on skin, she pleaded, “Can we talk about this some other time? I need to get some rest. I have to be back to work in a few hours.”

His sigh was audible. “Fine.” He wrapped his arms around her, and bowing his head, he kissed her.

His tongue mastered her mouth, sliding deep, consuming her. When he pulled away, she was breathless.

“This conversation is suspended, but it’s not over.” His hazel eyes were intense as they stared into hers.

She nodded, too relieved to let the subject of them be put on hold.

Taking her hand again, he led her around to the driver’s side. “Now, it’s time for you to go before the retirees show. My dad included.”

That was all she needed to hear. The last person she wanted to find her and Robert together was Major General Wright, the man whose family had been one of the original founders of the town. She opened the door and slid behind the wheel. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Maybe we can do dinner.”

Starting the car, she rolled the window down and shut the door. “We’ll see. I don’t know how the night is going to pan out, especially after last night’s events with the drug runners.”

“Call me when you get off.”

“Promise.” She pulled away, noting the change of color taking place on the horizon. Morning would be here soon. Driving toward the authorized vehicle exit at the end of the course, she glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Robert’s silhouette become more obscure. There was no mistaking it, Robert knew she was making excuses. However, she would keep making them until he realized their relationship had to remain just how it had been for the last eight months. A secret.

Threshing The Grain by Teresa Noelle Roberts

2011-01-10T15:11:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

Adimir laid one hand over his heart. “I have a confession to make,” he said to Miryea.

It was hard for Miryea not to get distracted by the way Adimir’s gesture called attention to his bare chest, but something in her husband’s tone made Miryea sit up--they’d been reclined on the dining couch, though dinner was long since done--and turn to face him. He sounded serious, concerned, not like he was about to tease her, but like he truly had something on his mind. “It had better not be that the Emperor needs you to leave at dawn to infiltrate Kulchu territory again.”

She hoped she was kidding, but it wasn’t out of the question. She’d met Adimir when he was returning from a stint spying among the Kulchu; his mother was an escaped Kulchu slave so he could easily pass as one of their enemy neighbors. He had only made two brief forays into Kulchu territory since they’d wed, both lasting less than a week, but it wouldn’t surprise her if he was called out for more extensive service. Festivals, when border dwellers were distracted, often lured Kulchu raiders hoping to steal food and slaves.

He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing that serious, little rabbit.” His dark eyes were somber, though, his tone thoughtful. “No, I just wanted to confess I wish we could take your grandmother up on the invitation to visit her in Yareth for the Harvest Festival instead of going up to Thermanae.”

Miryea stifled a giggle. Then she decided she might as well let it out. “I know you like my grandmother’s Imperial Army stories--especially the ones about your father as a young officer getting into trouble in Poldar. But I know how much you hate cities. Guess the idea of me whipping you with twigs appeals to you about as much as it does to me.”

“It’s not that. The ritual itself doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind honoring the Lord of Grain’s sacrifice and most women do it so lightly it’s no worse than walking through undergrowth. Besides, I can’t fault anything that makes a pretty woman giggle as much as ‘threshing the grain’ does.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “But much as I love my home, the Harvest Festival is one festival I’d just as gladly celebrate in a place where the gods and the old ways aren’t as close as they are at Thermanae. I’m sure in Yareth it’s all a grand excuse for a party, and right now, that sounds a lot more pleasant than the Thermanae way. We celebrate, but it has this desperate edge to it.”

“Maybe it’s knowing winter’s on the way that gives it the grim undertone. I hear winters are nasty in the hills. We could still….”

“Not unless Laeca finds a husband by Harvest Festival, and the last I heard, she didn’t have anyone in mind. As the satrap, my father must stay in Arlind for the Festival, so you and I need to lead the ritual for Thermanae. The Lord of Grain deserves honor for his sacrifice--and a couple with a land-bond needs to be there.”

“I see.” She wasn’t sure she believed it herself, but she wasn’t going to argue with Adimir’s faith. The Thelanese believed in Lady Sun and the Lord of Grain far more in than most Soranians, and took the religious festivals seriously, not just as an excuse for revelry and sexual adventure. Since coming to know Adimir and settling in Thelana, Miryea understood why. In a place where the Lord and Lady of an estate were mystically bound to the land and satyrs might pop in to trade rough wine and wild honey for milk and bread, it was hard not to believe the ancient legends. “I’m not keen on this festival either. If anyone’s getting spanked, I’d rather it be me, seeing that I enjoy it. I much prefer the way we do it back home, with feasting and drinking new wine and men letting their seed fall where they will. Even if the streets are an awful mess the next morning.”

“Just keep in mind that if I act strange as Festival approaches, it’s nothing to do with you. This time of year gets under my skin,” Adimir continued.

She nodded and snuggled closer, encouraging him. Adimir wasn’t one to talk easily about things that troubled him--he preferred to confront a problem, solve it, and then tell you the story. Most of Adimir’s problem-solving involved bashing people who deserved bashing, rescuing people who needed rescuing and other grand, dangerous escapades that made good stories later. She kept telling him he’d someday run into a problem he couldn’t solve with violence--and he kept telling her that if he did, he’d let her deal with it, seeing that she was the educated one. If this was bothering him enough that he wanted to talk about it, she’d listen.

He was silent for awhile, stroking her flank and back idly, occasionally kissing the top of her head.

When he pulled her closer and cupped one breast with his big hand, Miryea figured that he was done with serious topics and moving on to distraction. Simply admitting he’d rather be somewhere else than Thermanae for a festival was deeper for him than she could really understand. She had a land-bond with Thermanae through their wedding ritual, but she hadn’t spent enough time there yet to figure out what it entailed. Adimir’s was much stronger, bred in his blood and bones. Being Adimir, he probably expected she’d understand that and fill in how serious his admission was and why he might be a bit cranky and edgy. She couldn’t, of course, but perhaps his mother could give her some clues later.

But he wasn’t done. “As a boy, I hated the Harvest Festival. It scared me. I think it did a lot of the lads. Just knowing that we used to sacrifice a young man to honor the Lord of the Grain....” She turned to look at him, struck by the starkness of his voice. His eyes hinted at a child who suffered nightmares around the time of the Harvest Festival, a striking contrast to the muscular warrior he had become. “I was too young to understand that the Lord and Lady had forbidden such things, that they’d happened in the dim past when we were ignorant.”

Hearing her calm, brave husband admit to his fears shook Miryea, so she turned to the humor that had always been her first defense. “It must have been scary. Especially in Thelana. That dim past was…what? Your grandparents’ day?” She scooted off the couch as she spoke, getting out of easy reach in anticipation of the thwack Adimir was certain to aim at her butt. Teasing Adimir about his backward native satrapy practically guaranteed a spanking.

And a spanking practically guaranteed spending the next few hours tangled with Adimir in hot, sweaty sex.

So why, exactly, was she dodging that spanking?

Because every time she felt herself craving the stinging thwacks, craving the way Adimir used his size and strength to dominate her, she heard her grandmother the soldier snorting in disgust at women who let men kick them around. Heard the urban woman she used to be laughing at the old-fashioned ways of Thelana, with its downtrodden women and domineering men.

But seven hells, it wasn’t like that between her and Adimir. It was all for fun--and it turned them both on. A good spanking and some wild lovemaking was bound to get Adimir’s mind out of the dark place into which it was slipping. Childhood nightmares sounded comical on the surface, but she knew that terrors planted in a child’s mind could shape an adult’s life. And her own childish fears had been mundane things, mockery and failure and disgrace and a father’s drunken stumbling, not human sacrifice.

Definitely best to give them both something else to think about, something they would both enjoy. In any case, it was a fine reason to do something she wanted to do anyway.

At the last second, she cocked her hip back into the swat. His palm connected with a slap that resonated through her two long coats, one a silk and linen blend, the other plain linen, and her thin linen salvar. It stung, but in a way that vibrated from her butt to her sex and clit, making them throb in delicious sympathy.

“Oh, you like that, little rabbit?” Adimir already knew the answer, so he kept spanking her as he said it.

But she knew he liked to hear it, liked confirmation that Miryea craved a hot, tender bottom as much as he enjoyed giving it to her.

Lord and Lady, if someone had told her before the Spring Equinox that she’d come to crave such treatment, she’d have laughed. Or thrown something at them. Or possibly taken them to talk to a priest, since they were clearly delusional.

Then again, she hadn’t believed in magic before the Equinox either, or that the gods still took a hand in human affairs. That was before Adimir’s physician mother Jaenna had shown her magical ways of healing that no one at the university in Poldar would believe possible.

And before she and Adimir had seen the Lady and Lord at play, giving divine approval to their union.

She’d learned a lot in the past two seasons.

The most important thing she’d learned wasn’t anything grand or deep, anything magical or divine, although some might argue that it was grander and deeper than most things, because all sexual unions honored the Lord and Lady.

It was that she loved Adimir and he loved her, and that sometimes it was fine to express their love with her ass hot and red and in the air, waiting for him to fuck her from behind.

“More,” she moaned. “Harder.”

“Harder, little rabbit? Are you sure? You know where that will get you.”

“Exactly where I want to be.”

He flipped up her coats and bent her over so she was leaning on the hard couch, her face buried in the pillows piled on it.

A few more thwacks, harder this time, unmediated by anything except her thin salvar. With his free hand, Adimir reached around to cup her breasts, teasing at first one nipple, then the other, until even the fine linen of her underq’misa, thin enough that she could pull both q’misa and salvar through her wedding ring, felt coarse against their tenderness.

Miryea’s ass burned until she thought the only thing that kept her salvar from catching fire was the moisture welling from her sex. Her body clenched in a way that told her that when her release came, it would come hard, making her scream loudly enough that the servants would cast sly, knowing looks at them in the morning and grin to themselves, because when the lord and lady of an estate were united in passion, the Lord and Lady smiled on the estate. And even if Adimir and Miryea were only the heirs to an estate (and the secondary heirs at that, for Laeca was the older sibling), it couldn’t hurt.

Adimir paused in the spanking, slid his hand lovingly along the curve of her ass. “It’s so pink now,” he said, “that I can see it through the linen. And wet….” He pulled at the linen, stretching it taut over her sex. “You’re ready for me, all rosy and juicy and swollen. Do you want me to fuck you, little rabbit, or do you want me to strip you naked and spank your bare ass?”

He pressed against her, letting her feel his body, his hard muscle, his hard cock. After the time he’d spent among the Kulchu, he had little modesty, and none of the Soranian attitude that hiding the body most of the time made it more compelling, more arousing, when you chose to display it.

He liked to display his.

On him, it worked. Then again, it helped that his body was an unusually fine one.

On this warm night, he’d shucked his coats and undertunic as soon as it was certain they were alone for the evening. The heat of his bare chest radiated even through all her clothes. His dark blue linen salvar were tented by his hard cock, which he rubbed between her legs. She pushed back against it, reveling in the sensation as it teased at her swollen clit and probed at her through damp linen. The fabric, even the sturdier linen that made up his salvar, seemed so delicate that his cock might tear right through to enter her. The sharp, rich smell of her arousal and Adimir’s spicy musk hung heavy in the warm early autumn air.

This was one of those times when she wished Jaenna had taught her some magical way to remove clothing. If there was one, she figured a former Kulchu slave would know it--although she wouldn’t necessarily teach it to her daughter-in-law. If Adimir didn’t give her a chance to undress soon, she didn’t think she’d have the coordination to unbutton her coats.

And she was getting tired of losing the buttons on her coats because he got impatient.

Adimir swiveled his hips so his cock moved against her, reminding her just how delicious it would feel when he moved like that inside her. “Do you want this inside you now, love, or do you want more spanking and teasing first?”

“Yes!”

“It wasn’t a yes-or-no question. Do you want fucking or do you want spanking?” He chuckled deep in his chest, a sexy rumble. He pulled his hands back and stepped away, just enough so her skin felt bereft without him. “So which is it going to be?”

Miryea’s brain wasn’t working very well, but she knew there wasn’t a wrong answer to this question. She simply couldn’t decide which delicious option sounded more enticing.

But she knew he wanted to hear her say, in so many words, that she wanted to be spanked or fucked. Preferably one, then the other.

So she did the only thing a reasonable woman could under the circumstances, with her ass and sex throbbing in rhythm with her need. She answered, “Both. I want both. Spank me some more and then fuck me. Why choose between the two?”

He didn’t do anything right away, didn’t say a word. Held his breath, she swore. In any case, it became so quiet she could hear the music from his parents’ party in the main house--they were entertaining some Imperial officials--filtering in through the doors and windows open against the unseasonable heat. Seven hells, she could hear crickets chirping, a baby crying in the servants’ quarters, a dog barking the next street over, the blood rushing heatedly through her veins.

Her breasts felt heavy, her body hot and ripe as sun-warmed apricots. What in the world was he waiting for?

“Please,” she said, and to her embarrassment, it came out in a small voice that was almost a sob. “Adimir, please.”

“Happy to oblige, Lady Miryea,” he said, as a servant might, but sounding far too smug and cocky to be a servant (unless it was a servant who was carrying on with the lady of the house).

And then things started to blur.

Heated Restraints by Yvette Hines

2011-01-10T13:46:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

Thor could hear the Carrie Underwood song blaring a quarter of a mile away. Even with the distance, the candy apple red shine of the car was vaguely identifiable as it barreled down the road’s flat terrain leading to the main gate of Moody Air Force Base.

Here comes trouble. The words echoed through Thor’s mind, only slightly comprehended above the car’s radio.

When the red Corvette finally pulled up beside him, the chorus of Before He Cheats was playing. He watched the blonde driver as she conversed with the brunette beside her and flipped her dependent identification toward him.

Things like that always pissed him off. “Excuse me, ma’am. I need you—”

Thor cut his own words off. Blondie still wasn’t giving him the benefit of eye contact.

On any other day, he would have repeated his order. But, not today. Today was his last day of work and he classified that as ‘taking no shit day’. Reaching across her body, he twisted the radio’s dial quickly, feeling it snap into the off position. Nice legs. He noted the fact that the skirt of her sundress was riding high on her thighs, whether by the wind or her instigation, it was a sight worth appreciating.

He returned to his authoritative stance beside the car.

Finally, the blonde turned with her brow pinched and pierced him with an angry glare, barely visible through the tint of her glasses. “Hey, where in the hell do you get off—”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he began “but it’s base policy—”

“I can care less about base policy. But, a little courtesy would’ve been nice.” The blonde woman pushed her sunshades on top of her head, allowing it to double as a headband holding her windblown shoulder length hair away from her face.

She had nice eyes. Hazel eyes. He hadn’t expected that color. Blue maybe or even brown, but the striking gold-green color of her irises emphasized by her mascara thickened lashes gave him pause.

Reigning himself in, he brought his focus back to the subject at hand. “When you pulled up, I requested you lower your music, but I guess you couldn’t hear me with the volume up so loud.” He purposely gave her a cocky smile.

The brunette leaned toward the driver’s side of the car with a snide smirk on her face. “Evidently, Technical Sergeant Zeller, you don’t realize who you’re talking to.”

Taking his sights off the driver, he glanced at her passenger for a moment. “Doesn’t matter, ma’am, the rules apply to anyone entering the base.”

The brunette hooted with laughter. “Your little security force’s handbook of rules doesn’t apply to Major General Michael Wright’s daughter.”

“Stephanie, don’t—” the blonde driver attempted to stop her friend.

Ignoring her, Stephanie, the brunette, went on, “I’m sure you know who he is.” She beamed a superior smile at him. “He’s here from the Pentagon to retire in his hometown. Our hometown. Claremont is a neighbor of Lowndes.”

Just great. I had to be the one to get the town princess.

The driver jumped in again. “Steph, leave it alone. It’s not worth it.”

He was sure the General’s daughter probably meant that he wasn’t worth the time.

“Well, when you get there, tell him I said congrats,” he commanded. Looking back at the driver, he placed an additional amount of authority in his voice. “Identification, please.”

Opening her hand, the blonde presented him with her card.

Collecting it from her for review, his fingers brushed the soft, supple skin of her palm and heat raced up through his fingertips. Lifting the picture, he scanned the name on the card. Liza Wright. Purposely, he held it longer than was necessary before he passed it back to her awaiting hand.

“Enjoy the ceremony, ma’am,” Thor told her.

Slipping the card into the inside handle grip of the driver’s side door, she looked back at him. For a moment, her eyes traveled down the length of his body as if assessing his worth. When they returned back to his face, she flipped her glasses down and said, “I plan to. The party is at Claremont Wright Country Club if you care to stop by when you get off.”

Like hell I will. It wasn’t that she was not beautiful. She was damn hot. Every fiber in his being had reacted to the view of her golden thighs. And in any other situation he would have taken her up on the offer with big hopes for the end of the night. However, his every instinct told him she was trouble.

“No thank you, ma’am.”

Shrugging off his reply, she floored the gas and peeled through the gate, turning her music back up.

As he watched her pull off, he was tempted to call it in, but disregarded it. Instead, he looked down at his watch and checked the time. He was relieved to note that in four hours and ten minutes he would be off duty and by tomorrow morning he would be out of the Air Force.

* * * *

Few parking spaces were available when Thor arrived at Sonny’s. He’d learned quickly that food and business were how they did things in the south, in that order. A month after he left the military, he’d received a call from Robert Dennison, the Claremont police chief, asking him to meet him for the final interview to join the local force.

Thor was happy for the time off to relax but now he was becoming restless and antsy. It was time for him to get back in the cops and robbers game. Stepping out of his car, he paused. Leaving the barbeque establishment was the town princess he’d had the pleasure of meeting during his last day of duty. Just like four weeks ago, she wore a dress and sunshades, the only difference this time was instead of a mouthy brunette accompanying her, she held a large bag of takeout. He admitted to himself she was a knockout. A visual treat. Even with her regal attitude. It just made him want to tame her even more.

Leaning back against his car, he took a moment to observe the General’s daughter. Watching the sway of her hips as she strolled with confidence to her convertible two rows over from his, a smile played on his lips. The miniscule amount of wind in the air wasn’t an adequate amount to cool the rising summer heat from his skin; however, it was more than enough to flirt with the hem of her dress, allowing him a glimpse of her sexy tanned legs. As she padded across the ground in her sandals, he noted how nice her calves were. The kind of calves a man loved to cup in his hands or feel over his shoulders. He was slightly heartbroken when the parked cars in her row blocked his view of them.

She disappeared from his line of sight as she passed two vans parked next to her car. When she arrived at her car, she leaned over the driver’s side door and situated her burden in the back seat. Just like sweet iced tea to a hot and thirsty man, the town princess satisfied him with a view of her sweet round ass. The thought of wanting to see her naked in the same position didn’t shock him as much as it turned him on. Quick and fierce.

Attempting to clear his mind of images that wouldn’t lead him to employment, but more than likely run out of town if anyone found out, he brushed his hand across the back of his neck and pushed away from his car. Chief Dennison was inside waiting on him and he needed to mind his own business concerns. The princess definitely wasn’t his business, nor his concern. Matter of fact, Princess Wright would probably have been pissed if she’d known he’d been observing her royal hiney. Nevertheless, as he walked away, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back over his shoulder and watching her pull out of the parking lot. The wind now teased her hair and made his finger itch to do the same.

Running his hands through his hair, now grown out from the short standard military cut, he headed toward the front of the wooden restaurant, which resembled a big red barn, to meet the Claremont chief of police. Dust from the unpaved parking lot trailed in the wake of his footsteps as he moved to the entrance.

“Brad ‘Thor’ Zeller.” A tall, thin black man in a suit with basketball palming hands grabbed his hand and patted Thor on the back. “I recognize you from your file photo.”

Thor added his own strength to the handshake. “Then you better be Chief Dennison.”

The black man smiled.

“The one and only.” A greeter standing by the welcome podium chimed in with a wink.

“I hope you brought your appetite,” Chief Dennison commented as he ended the handshake.

“I sure did.” Thor rubbed his abdomen for effect. He’d heard from his friend Jack that this was one of the best barbeque restaurants in town.

“Great.” Dennison headed toward the woman. “A booth, please, Rachel.”

“You got it, shuga’bear.” Grabbing two menus from beside her stand, Rachel, the greeter, sashayed into the dining area. “This way.”

“During lunch we’ll talk about the position I have open and you can tell me how you got your nickname. Or should I just believe I’m eating with a legend?”

It was Thor’s turn to laugh. Business and food, the southern way.

* * * *

Liza was tired. She’d spent her Saturday at an all day study session in the library at Florida State. Her group’s final research project was due and they had needed this last meeting to tie up loose ends before the semester ended. She would be starting her six weeks of internship, and then wait for fall graduation. Then she didn’t know what she was going to do. She’d have her Master’s in early childhood counseling, but she didn’t know whether or not she wanted to stay in Claremont County or if it was time for her to pick up roots and leave. She’d been here all of her life. This had been where her father was raised, as well as Moody being his first assignment. He’d met and married her mom here. The military had relocated him to various places, but her mother was a homebody and refused to uproot her son and daughter every three years. Amazingly, her parents had made it through the long stretches of absence.

Dressed in a frayed, thigh length skirt and short-sleeved layered t-shirt, she cruised along the interstate. The cool early evening breeze blew through the window and cooled her heated flesh. Thick rolling gray clouds moved across the dark sky, making her aware that a spring storm was on its way. She loved storms. They were unpredictable.

Sighing, Liza wished she could have said the same for her life. Claremont County was a beautiful place to raise a family, but she didn’t know if it was the place for a twenty-seven-year-old single woman. She craved change like she craved sex. It had been years since she’d dated and almost as long since she’d slept with anyone.

In Claremont County, everyone knew everything about everybody so she’d spent the last two years concentrating on school to keep the gossip about her life at bay.

She loved being a part of the town, but for a while now she questioned herself. There was no doubt if she desired a counseling position anywhere in the town, she’d have one without even an interview. If a position wasn’t open, one would be created for her. She was Liza Wright, grandchild of a founder. Could she make it somewhere else? Did she want to make it somewhere else? Was there anything in Claremont County for her? Those questions constantly plagued her.

Pulling off Interstate 75 onto Gridston, she gave a sigh of relief. The only thing she wanted to do was get home and put her feet up. The highway was deserted as she careened down the stretch of road.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Liza groaned when minutes later she saw flashing lights in her rearview mirror. She steered her car to the shoulder and put the car in park. She didn’t have any concerns about getting a speeding ticket, instead, she was more annoyed at being stopped. Whichever deputy was stopping her must not have recognized her car. They’d give her a friendly hello and a warning and send her own her way. All the neighborly conversation was just delaying the time until she was bumming mindlessly in front of a movie, until sleep claimed her. Tired, she wanted to get home soon.

She watched the car slide up behind hers, then she got out of her convertible. With the search light beaming in her eyes, it was hard to determine which deputy was walking toward her.

“Dale, is that you, or is it Martin?” Liza called out.

“Ma’am, do you know you’re not supposed to get out of your car unless instructed to do so?”

The voice was gritty and male. As he spoke, there was a bite to each word as if he didn’t tolerate noncompliance. He commanded authority. Liza noticed the tingling along her arms as the hairs on both of them rose.

Definitely not Dale or Martin. Warm sensations raced along her skin where moments before the wind had cooled it. Chalking it up to the humidity of the night, she leaned against her car and waited. Finally, he stepped in front of her and blocked the bright light and she could see his face.

“You.” She tilted her head and stared up toward his face, seeing the gate guard from the base in Valdosta, the main city of Lowndes County that bordered Claremont. “So, you’re the new officer everyone has been talkin’ about. Thor, isn’t that what they call you?”

His intense blue eyes captured her. “Good evening, ma’am. Once again—”

This man’s nickname had always intrigued her. Cutting him off, she asked, “Don’t tell me. You’re supposed to be able to clap and make it thunder or something, right?”

One of his eyebrows lifted. “Anything’s possible. But, no matter. When people talk, the made up story is always better than the original one.”

She chuckled as she tapped a finger against her lips. “Now, I recall Jack told me somethin’ about you being deployed to Iraq twice. He said when you all were there no matter what situation you were in, you always managed to get out without a scratch. Jack seems to believe that you have some sort of shield around you. He said you wielded your gun to protect as if it was a gift from the gods.” She stepped toward him and spoke in a sultry voice, “So, does lightening flash in the sky when you use your mighty hammer?”

Liza didn’t miss the flare of his nostrils as she stood close to him. She wondered if it was a response to her honeysuckle body spritz or a sign of annoyance. The desire to push the envelope tickled the back of her neck.

“Ms. Wright, do you know you’re not supposed to get out of your vehicle unless instructed to do so?” He repeated the question.

“Hmm.” At least six feet tall, he towered over her five foot six inch height. Broad shoulders and narrow waist were enhanced by the cut of his uniform. She had to admit the man had a nice build. A part of her wished she could view him from the back and see if his ass was just as pleasant. Ignoring her own wondering thoughts, she leaned against her car. “I guess the base doesn’t offer enough work for you. Now you’re moonlighting with the sheriff’s department.”

“No.” Amazingly, he arched his eyebrow higher.

She figured he was probably annoyed because she hadn’t answered his question. Crossing her arms over her chest, she continued, “No. Ah, maybe you got kicked out of the military. Couldn’t hack it. All those loud music violators making you mad?”

Tilting his head to the side, he eyed her from under the brim of his hat. “Are you trying to piss me off and get a ticket or are you always this insolent?”

Insolent? The nerve of him. Slapping her hands to her hips, she leaned toward him. “I like to call it my own sassy wit.”

“Hm,” he grunted.

The little nonverbal, guttural sound he made infuriated her. Balling her fists against her waist, she asked, “Don’t you have bad guys to catch? I’m sure someone is robbing a bank somewhere.” Liza didn’t know why she felt the urge to antagonize him. Something about him caused an unnamed sensation to dance along her spine.

Watching the muscle jump along his jaw line, she enjoyed a small thrill in knowing that she could aggravate him.

He stared at her, unaffected by her comments, and calmly ordered, “License and registration, please.”

He’s got to be made of stone. Rolling her eyes, Liza turned toward her driver’s side door, wrenched it open and bent inside to retrieve her information. While she was in the car, she became more irritated that she couldn’t affect him. The fact that this was her town, where she’d lived all her life and Mr. Patrol Officer By the Books couldn’t get past his own ego to give her a little courtesy for speeding, which she knew she’d been doing, angered her.

Sitting in her seat while rifling through her purse, an idea occurred to her. If she couldn’t affect him with her sharp mind, then she’d get to him the old fashioned way. Backing out of the car, she handed him only her license.

Taking her identification, he eyed her. “Do you have a car registration?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never been stopped in my own town before so I’m a little fuzzy about the protocol.”

“Registration.” He rested the palm of one hand against the butt of his gun, which she figured he used more as a place to rest his hand than a threat of force.

“Yes, sir.” Turning with a flounce, Liza got back into her car. This time she balanced her body on the knee she placed in the center of the seat. Stretching long and arching her back, she reached over the center console to the glove compartment, where she riffled inside, pretending to search for her registration.

Liza was no fool. She knew that the position she assumed allowed Officer Zeller a clear view of the expansion of her thighs. She had been told many times that she had nice legs and for sheer spite, she was willing to use them against the emotional rock outside.

Turning her head, she glanced out of the back window, but was unable to see more than his waist and the top of his pants. Forgetting herself, she couldn’t help but admire the cut of his clothing and how well his uniform slacks cupped his sex. Impressive. The thought danced in her mind before she had a chance to refocus herself. Heat filled her lower belly and she was shocked at how easily she had become aroused by a man she didn’t even know, let alone like.

“Here it is.” She announced as she backed out of the car. Giving him a triumphant smile, she slapped the paper into his open hand. “There.”

For a brief moment, his wide hand closed around her smaller one, holding it. Feeling the slight grip, he held on.

Liza allowed her eyes to travel from their joined hands, moving her gaze past his hair-sprinkled forearm and shoulder, until she reached his face. Taking note of his chiseled jaw, firm lips and distinct nose, she continued up to meet his eyes. She was captured by the heat in his azure stare.

Sparks went off where their hands touched, causing her fingers to tingle.

“I’m completely within my right to give you a ticket. Speeding is illegal and dangerous,” he told her.

Snatching her hand from his, she tried to regain control of the situation and her emotions. “Well, if you fear for your life and the safety of the drivers of Claremont County…” She stepped toward him, tilting her head back so she could continue to maintain eye contact with him, “why don’t you just arrest me, officer?”

Like lightening, Officer Zeller had her swung around and pinned against the side of her car. The heat of his body pressed along her back.

“You know, princess, I have no qualms about putting you in handcuffs.” He spoke in low tones with his mouth flush to her ears.

Her lungs seized, stealing her breath and refusing to relinquish it. She became light-headed. She was assailed with the desire to arch her back and press her hips into him. It had been so long since any man had dared to impose his strength on her. His forcefulness turned her on. Desire ignited between her legs and caused her sex to swell. One of his hands gripped her hip while the other held her hands on the top of her car. The material of the ragtop under her palms and the vibration of the running car kindled sensations in her breast.

Being restrained by Zeller was giving her thoughts of what it would be like to be with him in a more intimate setting. Naked and vulnerable for him. At that moment, she wanted him.

Shocked at her thoughts and the wetness dampening her panties, she gave herself a mental shake. Using all of her willpower, she shifted to the present. Liza finally took a deep breath to fill her lungs with the cool night air, but instead she smelled him. He didn’t wear cologne or a fancy aftershave; just the scent of clean male with his own natural musk. Her pussy throbbed and she squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to squelch it, unintentionally making it worse.

Zeller’s hand traveled around her waist, adding pressure to her abdomen, pushing her back until his thick cock lightly brushed the crease of her ass. “Nothing to say, princess?”

The way he called her princess sounded like both an endearment and an insult. “I do believe this could be considered police brutality. I wonder how Sheriff Pyle would feel if I told him about one of his deputies taking liberties with me on a routine traffic stop.”

His chuckle rumbled against her back before she heard it. “This stopped being routine the moment you put those creamy thighs of yours in my line of sight. It’s a good thing I work directly for Russell and I’m not a deputy.”

Damn. She knew she wasn’t being subtle, but she didn’t expect that her actions would backfire on her in this way. “Arrest me, give me a damn ticket, or let me go, Officer Zeller.”

For a moment, he didn’t move and Liza thought he was going to continue to hold her. But, he stepped away, releasing her as quickly as he had grabbed her, saying, “I’m going to give you a warning this time, but you need to be careful on these roads at night.”

Facing him, she leaned back against her car, staring at Thor. “Thanks for your concern, Officer Zeller. I’ll take it under consideration.” Pushing away from her vehicle, she turned to get in. She ran into Zeller’s arm as it shot out in front of her, halting her movement.

“I mean it, princess. The RACE team has been cruising these roads because of the teens drag racing down here and causing accidents, some serious.”

“Duly noted.” She shoved his arm out of her way and got in her car.

“You may need these for the next time you’re stopped.”

He held her driver’s license and registration out to her. Reaching out the window, Liza removed the items from his hand. “Thanks. By the way, my name is Liza. And I’m nobody’s princess.”

Not waiting for his compliance, Liza shifted her car into drive and pulled away.

Liza had always hated being called princess. It was an old wound for her. In Claremont County where her family owned so much, it had separated her from everyone else. She had always been treated with kid gloves. Until now.

Her Snowbound Knight by Kasey Moone

2010-12-11T15:20:00.000-08:00

Anelle met her rescuer’s gaze head-on. She knew what he was thinking. That she was a fool for trying to save her J-Lo jeans. But he didn’t understand. They were for a dear friend.

She squirmed in her seat at the realization that he was even more gorgeous up close and personal. When she’d first seen him, his beauty had knocked the breath out of her, sending her libido into a wild tailspin. Now, in the warm intimacy of the cabinet, his handsomeness announced itself like a great beam of light.

Brilliant crystal blue eyes, shadowed by thick lashes, stared at her from a hard lean face. A dusting of dark hair fell on a chiseled jaw that rested below a pair of sensual pink lips. His teeth were white and straight. His nose slightly crooked. Absently, she wondered about the color and texture of his hair. Too bad his scruffy hat hid the view.

Her perusal went lower. A hefty jacket accentuated his sculpted shoulders nicely. He was definitely cornfed: tall, lean, and muscled in all the right places. Just like she liked them.

Sure, white guys had never been her thing, but when in Rome…

She suddenly noticed that he was still staring at her. Laughter danced in his eyes. Had he noticed her examination?

“What?”

“You really are something.”

Oh God. He had noticed. “What’re you talking about?”

“You could’ve died going after those jeans.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. Then she blushed, thankful her dark skin masked it. He was right about the jeans, but she wasn’t about to throw him a bone.

“You got some balls.”

“They cost me a fortune,” she said, trying to explain. “A fortune.”

“Some balls.”

She was just about to say something clever, when he cranked up the engine and pulled out of the emergency lane. He pulled out and drove down the long stretch of road. Minutes of silence passed between them; the crackle of the engine and car heater the only sounds. She would’ve let it stay that way if she didn’t have the overwhelming urge to speak.

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“Yep, but it doesn’t work out here. The signal always fades.”

“That’s what happened to me,” she offered, suddenly wanting him to know that she wasn’t a complete nitwit. That it was her cell phone’s fault, of course.

He suddenly turned into a narrow path. A family of trees flanked them on both sides.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a cabin up ahead. You can call someone from there.”

Annoyed, she shook her head. “No, I want to go to a gas station or store. Not somewhere in the boondocks with a complete stranger. No offense.”

He grinned. “None taken.”

“Really, though. Isn’t there a K-mart or Wal-mart around here?”

“There’s nothing but me, you, and my cabin, ma’am. Plus, I’m not going to risk my neck driving you around town in this shitfest. It’s dangerous out there.”

The temperature in the cab rose at his words. Anelle clenched her thighs.

Well, it feels a little dangerous in here, too.

A sexy smile curved his lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t paw you. I work for the state’s snow removal department. I’m a government worker.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring.”

“Really,” he said, with a wicked smile. “You’re safe.”

She sighed. What choice did she have? It was either him or the storm. At least with him she had a fighting chance. She clasped her hands in her thighs, a determined expression across her face. Yes. She’d play by his rules—for now at least. Then she’d get the hell out of dodge.

****

Jasper hid his smile. The woman must’ve been certifiable if she thought she could call the shots in a blizzard. Should he tell her now that no one was going to risk the storm to help her, just because she had car troubles? That she was going to have to wait it out with him? He looked at her uptight face.

He’d wait.

She’d probably bolt from the truck at the news. And if his bad luck held out, he’d have to go stomping through the storm in search of her. He’d already joined the search for two missing snowbound people this month. She didn’t need to be the third.

He shot a quick glance in her direction. Unfortunately, her large jacket still covered her from head to toe. His curiosity about her body was growing stronger by the minute. Was it soft and curvy? Big breasts, small waist, wide hips? Or small top, big bottom? The questions were blurring his vision, making him as horny and prickly as a teenage boy. He made a slight turn and pressed on the pedal.

“So what else is in those bags? Kryptonite?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Drop it already.”

He shrugged. “Must be kryptonite...”

“For your information, I only have the basics: shoes, shirts, jeans, well I don’t have the jeans anymore, let’s see, scarves, lingerie, belts, and socks.”

“I’m sorry, did you say lingerie?”

“Yes.”

His voice grew husky. “Lingerie is not a basic, babe. Lingerie is a treat.”

“Oh, get real,” she stuttered. “It’s a basic.”

“It’s a treat.”

“Basic.”

“Treat.”

“Oh, shut up!”

Silence ensued. Jasper grinned. He couldn’t seem to stop teasing her. Acute sleep deprivation was fucking up his brain.

“What type?”

“Huh?”

“What type of lingerie?”

“Forget it.”

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Pretty, pretty please?”

“It ain’t going to happen,” she snapped, shooting daggers in his direction. She stuck a pinky in front of his face.

“You pinky sweared.”

He stared at her curved finger, perplexed.

“You promised you wouldn’t try anything,” she explained. “Remember?”

He chuckled. “I’m not trying anything. Just asking a harmless question is all.”

“Sure you are, white boy.”

“White boy?”

She glared.

“White boy.” He couldn’t help himself. “I like it.”

They suddenly looked at each other, shocked at the intimacy of their conversation. Jasper was the first to look away. He gripped the steering wheel.

“Er, sorry,” he managed. “The storm must’ve messed me up.”

A little “hmmph” was her only reply.

What was wrong with him? They’d just met! And he was doing exactly what he said he wouldn’t do: pawing her. He couldn’t seem to help himself though. She was cute when she was pissed. The realization annoyed him for some reason.

He decided to remain quiet for the rest of the journey. The last thing he needed was for her to punch him in the gut in retribution and leap from the truck. A short while later they arrived at his two-story cabin. He pulled up next to his black BMW and shut down the engine. The wind seemed to roar to life at his arrival.

“I’m leaving your bags in the snowplow.”

“But—”

“We’ll get them later.”

She sighed and threw up her hands. “Whatever you say, KISA.”

“KISA?”

“Knight in Shining Armor.”

He laughed. She was kind of sweet and funny when she wasn’t being certifiable.

“Stay close to me,” he said, reaching to fix a loose button on her coat. At the move he caught his first glimpse and feel of her chest. My God, she was stacked. The sashes and buttons did little to hide her magnificent breasts. Only made them prop up like a platter of goods. Satisfaction ripped through him. His already swollen cock grew harder. Fuck. He hadn’t sported a boner like this in ages. Luckily his coat concealed it well. With a loud grunt, he secured the last button. “I don’t want you to go flying off in the wind without protection.”

She growled. “Jeez--thanks.”

“What’s your name?”

“Anelle Franklin.”

“I’m Jasper Madison. Wish we could’ve met under different circumstances, Anelle.”

“Tell me about it.”

He shifted back in his seat, opened the door, and maneuvered his way around the truck to open her door. Then he guided her through the wind and snow, rocking all the way, and up the cabin steps. After much upheaval they finally made it into the warm sanctuary of his cabin. Safe.

Reindeer Games by Dana Littlejohn

2010-12-11T13:27:00.000-08:00

Taylor Sinclair was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Everything about him appealed to her. He was the perfect height. When he held her she could rest her head in the crook of his neck. His body was tight without being bulky. The Dudley Do Right cleft in his chin was so cute. His sandy brown hair was cut short around the sides and back, but hung low on his brow doing that Superman curl thing she found so damn sexy. His green eyes sparkled beautifully when he looked at her, especially when he smiled. The emotion in those emerald pools warmed her blood when they were filled with lust and passion, and spoke to her heart the way he looked at her before a kiss. Along with his physical beauty he was book smart, street smart and a genuinely nice guy. She had to make him hers.

“Get a room!” someone said.

They broke the kiss and turned to the voice.

“Are you guys coming to the party or what? It’s in the conference room, you know.”

“Yes, Natasha, we’ll be there. Aren’t you going to change out of your elf costume?” Kinze asked.

“Nah,” she answered with a wave. “When I change I want to be home so I can get into my warm fuzzy pajamas and drink me a hot toddy! I’ll see you guys up there.” She waved at them again and left the room.

“Okay.” Kinze turned back to Taylor.

“Do you really want to go to that party?” Taylor inquired with a small frown.

“Not really. I kinda have a better idea.”

“Mmm, I’ve seen that look in your eye before, Kinney,” Taylor said, tilting his head. “I know what you’re thinking...and I like it.”

Kinze laughed. “You think you know me so well.”

“Oh yes, I know you much better than you think I do.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah, like now you’re thinking about how much you want to snatch my clothes off and ride me right on this table.”

Kinze laughed harder. “Is that right?”

“Yup.”

She looked around conspiratorially, then gripped the front of his velvety red pants. “You’re right.”

Taylor’s groan vibrated through her, as he slid one hand up under her short green skirt to cup one of her butt cheeks. “I knew I was right. I like being right.”

Kinze pressed against his hardening bulge and leaned forward to kiss his neck. “So about that ride...”

“Ooooo, that feels good. You know you have a free pass to ride any time you’re ready, baby.”

“I’m ready now,” she whispered, giving his throat a lick.

“Mmm, I got just the place.”

Kinze let him lead her to a nearby storeroom. They had snuck in for a quickie a time or two before. She followed him to an out-of-the-way corner where he pulled her into his arms, kissing along her neck and exposed shoulders.

“I’ve missed you, Kinney. Seeing you every day and not being able to have you was like some crazy mix of pleasure and torture.”

“I know. Our schedules just haven’t been meshing lately.”

“I hated only being able to see you for a few hours a day these last few weeks. This gig was the hardest job I ever had to do. I can’t tell you how tough it was not to get a hard-on watching you prance around in this damn costume.”

“It will get better after the holidays. Everything will go back to normal.”

“Yes it will,” he whispered.

A throaty moan rose from her as Taylor intensified his kisses and gripped her breasts.

“Kinney, you have no idea what this outfit does for your body. It shows off your sexy shoulders and clings to your lovely curves. This damn shirt was made to only come down far enough to sit on this tight-ass booty of yours.” He emphasized his words by grabbing her butt and squeezing. “I don’t know whether to hug the designer or strangle them,” he added with a chuckle. “I do know that the men only brought their kids to see Santa just so they could get a look at my little reindeer helper. It drove me nuts watching them ogle you like fiends, but I couldn’t be mad at them because I did the same thing.”

“No one is paying attention to me like that.”

Taylor snatched down her shirt and exposed the strapless black bra that encased her full breasts. He pushed the cup out of the way to lift one.

“Oh yes, my love, they are and so am I,” he confessed.

My love? Could it be? No. Don’t read into it, Kinze. They’re just words spoken in the heat of the moment.

Kinze’s mind cleared as he sucked the tip of her breast into his mouth with a muffled moan, her hands instantly going to his head. She ran her fingers along his scalp mussing his hair more than the wig had. The scruffy white beard he still wore tickled her skin when his tongue swirled around her responsive dark bud before his teeth pulled it gently. He licked and nibbled on one then gave its twin the same treatment turning them both into sensitive little peaks.

Excitement shot from her nipples straight to her core. She closed her eyes to fully enjoy the sensations. Moisture filled her panties. She needed more and Taylor seemed to know it, too. His hand slid up the side of her leg and into her tights. His fingers slithered around to the front and slipped smoothly into her slick core. Her grip tightened around him.

“Oh, Taylor,” she moaned into his ear.

“Damn baby, you are so wet.”

She loved when he talked dirty to her.

“I can smell how much you want me. It’s driving me insane.”

Her knees threatened to buckle under his administrations. He released her breast and pushed her against the wall. Taylor pinned her there kissing and sucking along her neckline.

“Taylor, wait, baby, we...we forgot...to lock...the door.” Her words alternated with her gasps.

Christmas Nick For Everyone by Jaxx Steele

2010-12-11T12:49:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

“Evan, honey, I got a favor to ask.”

“What’s up, sis?” Evan wiped crumbs off the table into a napkin and blew out the small candle in its center.

“Well, I know we usually spend Christmas Eve helping the Salvation Army guys pass out gifts together, but do you think you can handle it alone this year?”

“What?” Evan turned to his sister. “How come?”

“Well, I met someone and he wants to spend some time with me.”

His eyebrows rose. “You got a date?”

“What does that mean?” She sputtered as she donned her coat. “I can have a date.”

Evan tossed down his bar towel and trash, before going over to his sister.

“Now Mariah,” he said, taking her hand. “You know I didn’t mean no harm. All I meant was, well, there have been plenty of men that have asked you out since Ray died. You shot them all down, honey. Are you sure you’re ready to start dating again?”

“Yeah, I think I am...finally.”

“Okay, so what’s this guy’s name?”

“His name is Nick.”

“Nick,” Evan repeated, then shrugged. “It’s a good strong name.”

“He’s really nice, Evan. I think you’ll like him.”

“Oh yeah, why do you think that?”

“He’s good man. We met at Mary’s Halloween party. You remember her, right?”

Evan nodded and took a seat.

“Well, he’s my friend Mary’s cousin. He moved to town at the end of the summer and she finally got him out of the house. We connected instantly,” she concluded brightly.

“Well, I’m glad. I’d like to meet him some time, preferably before I go home.”

“Of course. You can meet him tonight if you want.”

“Okay, great. I think it’s pass time you got back out there anyway.”

Mariah chuckled. “I agree. I think it’s pass time that we both got back out there.”

Evan made a frustrated noise as he jumped off the stool. “Let’s not start that conversation again. We’re talking about you, Mariah, not me,” Evan pointed out, going back to the row of tables.

“Oh, so it’s okay to talk about my love life, but not yours?” Mariah countered with her hands on her hips.

“I’m not saying that.”

“Okay, so what are you saying?”

“I’m just saying it’s different for us.”

“What’s different? We want the same things, Evan. A handsome man with a decent job and a good grasp on what romance is so he can sweep us off our feet. Isn’t that what you want too?”

Evan listened to his sister as he moved to another table and couldn’t deny her statement. That’s exactly what he wanted. If she could throw in a little courtesy, some common sense and a sense of humor that would make him, whoever he is, close to perfect.

But was that too much to ask?

He would gladly give the same and much more to have a man like that in his life. Evan knew he couldn’t be the only one out there that felt this way, but it sure seemed like it.

When he was younger he thought it was all about looks. The beautiful people seemed to get whatever they wanted. That life called to him, especially when he worked behind the scenes at the TV station in the next town over. Beautiful men were everywhere. Damon though, taught him some were monsters on the inside. Their relationship left scars on the inside as well as the out. It was a lesson he would not forget.

“Well then, what’s the problem?” His sister questioned breaking into his thoughts. “I’m ready now and you should be too. It has been way too long for both of us.”

Evan released a sigh, gripping the table before him. “Mariah,” he said, turning to face his sibling. “The difference between me and you is you want to start dating again. I don’t.”

Mariah left the bar and stood in front of her younger brother. “Look Evan, I hate that you had to get one of the crazies for your first real relationship, but everyone isn’t psycho. Men like Damon do not represent the majority. There are plenty of sane, available men out there. You can’t keep denying yourself a true chance at happiness because you’re afraid.”

“Mimi,” he griped using her childhood nickname.

“Please say you’ll try, little brother. You can’t live in fear forever. I just want to see you happy.”

Her words struck a chord in him. He knew she was right. Evan rested against the table and threw his hands up in surrender.

“All right, all right, I’ll try.”

“Good!” She grabbed his shoulders, kissed his cheek and smiled. “I think this upcoming year will be a good one for the both of us,” she exclaimed happily. Moving toward the door, she buttoned her coat. “Is it still okay that I leave early? It’s flurrying and the temperature is starting to drop. You know my hooptie barely runs when the weather is good,” she mentioned with a chuckle.

“You’re going to see Nick tonight, too?”

“Yes,” she answered over her shoulder.

“Do I need to find some place to go?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Mariah giggled. “No Evan, it’s not like that...not yet anyway,” she added with a lewd wink.

“Come on, Mimi! I could have lived a lifetime without the visual you just put in my head.” Evan waved her away and went back to cleaning tables.

Mariah laughed heartily. “I’ll see you at the house,” she said and shut the door behind her.

Evan shook his head and chuckled softly. He knew she meant well, but she was driving him crazy. With Mariah being almost ten years older than he, she had always been a little too over protective of him. Evan walked along the bar collecting the left behind glasses into a small grey tub he found under the bar.

If Mariah had her own love life to concentrate on she would leave his alone. He dropped one of the on the rocks glasses into the tub with a loud clank and scoffed. Love life. That was a joke. More like, lack thereof, if the truth be told. He hadn’t had anything that even closely resembled a love life since before Mariah’s husband died. A few dates here and there, a booty call once in a while, but no relationships.

“If it wasn’t for my job I’d have no reason for getting out of bed,” he mumbled.

Evan stopped and stood silent for several moments as the realization set in.

“Oh my God. I’m pitiful. My life is starting to mimic a country song. Maybe Mimi is right. I need to move on and try to be more positive like she is. If she can find someone after all this time maybe I can too.” He lifted the dirty dishes, heading for the back. “This New Year will bring something good for both of us because we deserve it.”

More Than Friends: Brad by Marie Rochelle

2010-12-09T13:17:00.001-08:00

Prologue

I can’t believe the words coming out of my boss’s mouth. Alicia Hart listened in utter shock to the next assignment that her boss Tiffany Henry was handing down to her. It took all of her willpower to sit up straight and not fall out of the expensive chair. There was no way in hell that she could do it. Why did Tiffany think that she could or would? Ever since her old boss left for a better job and Tiffany found out she knew the family she had been pushing her to become a part of this story. Well, she would just turn it down and that was that.

Another reporter could volunteer to take it and do a better job than her. Yes, she wanted to move up through the ranks of the news station, but this wasn’t the next story she wanted to be a part of in any way, shape or form.

“Tiffany, are you sure about this?” Alicia asked as she laid her pen back down on the notepad on her lap.

“Alicia, you will be the perfect reporter for this assignment. They have turned the news station down countless times, but since you’re friends with one of the brothers I know you could get them to agree this interview without a problem.” Tiffany grinned at her like she had it all planned out in her head and nothing would go wrong.

Tiffany wasn’t aware of her true relationship with the aloof Drace Brothers. She hadn’t even spoken to Brad in a while and if Lee had anything to do with it she wouldn’t for the rest of her life. The oldest and most outspoken of the elite Drace Brothers hated, and she meant, hated her!

“Didn’t you tell me that you want to start doing something like the Barbara Walters’ specials? Well, this is your first big step there,” Tiffany encouraged. “If you do a good job with this, I see bigger and better things in your future.”

“Brad Drace and his brothers are very private men. Most of them are already married and don’t want eyes prying into their personal lives,” Alicia pointed out, trying to get off this topic as quickly as possible. Tiffany didn’t understand that she really didn’t have any pull with the family.

She could already see Lee giving her that unblinking stare of his. He wouldn’t need to give her an answer after that because his look spoke volumes. No...she wasn’t going to allow herself to be put into that position by Tiffany or anyone else.

“I really don’t think any of them will agree to this behind the scenes type of thing anyway. I’ll be thrilled to do another spot on television and report something else going on in the news. Wasn’t there a recent drug raid that I can cover instead?” Alicia wasn’t that fond of doing drug dealers pieces, but it would get her away from the Drace Brothers story.

Tiffany glared at her as she tapped her French manicured nails on her desk. Great...she knew her boss only did that when she thinking of a way to get what she wanted and didn’t care who she had to bully to get it done.

Alicia was trying her best not to agree to this. For the past four and a half years, she had worked very hard making Brad understand that they couldn’t be more than friends. Yet, if she accepted this new project it would put her around him all of the time and she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Brad really thought that she didn’t care about him, but that wasn’t the real reason that she pushed him away all of the time. So, it was for the best if he kept thinking that she wasn’t interested in him. It would work out better for the both of them in the end.

“Alicia, I’m not going to let you back out of this. You don’t seem to understand that my boss wants this interview done and I’m not about to lose my job because of you. Now, you can be the one that does it or I can give it to one of the new girls working here. It’s up to you, but it will be done.”

“I’m still not sure about this,” Alicia said, worried. She knew Tiffany wouldn’t hire a good person to take over the project. As much as she didn’t want to be involved with this, she did know the Drace brothers and their wives better than anyone else at the station.

“I was trying to do a good thing here. Everyone here knows that you’re close to Brad because he used to give you tennis lessons. He might be more open to granting you an interview and then you could get something from him other people couldn’t.

“Do you know that most people here in Houston don’t know much about Lee, Richard, Zack or Brad? All of them are very influential men and the public wants to know what makes them tick and how their wives were lucky enough to get them to the altar.”

Pushing up her glasses with her index finger, Alicia thought over what Tiffany was telling her. She hated it, but she had to agree that her boss did have a point.

The Drace brothers had moved to Texas years ago. It seemed like all of the brothers had made their fortunes overnight, except Brad who worked for Lee part-time about twenty hours a week and then gave tennis lessons for the rest of the time.

Were the handsome brothers hiding a rag to riches story that the community would love to hear about? This could really be the big break she had been dreaming about and it would give her a chance to be around Brad. She did truly love the moments she had spent with him during her tennis lessons. With this assignment, she would be doing her job and spending quality time with the attractive Brad.

Alicia wasn’t going to allow someone else to be around Brad when she could do it herself while working on a kick ass job assignment. “We haven’t spoken to each other for a couple of weeks, but I’ll call Brad and try to run the idea past him. However, I can’t promise that he’ll agree to do anything. I know that he’ll talk it over with his brothers first before he gives me any kind of answer.”

“Excellent,” Tiffany said as she stood up from behind her desk. “I’m late for my lunch date, but I’ll talk to you later on in the week to see where things are with this. I know that you aren’t going to disappoint me

Alicia stood up from her seat and pressed the notepad against her chest. She wasn’t going to hold out for a lot of hope that Brad would agree to this. He was probably still mad at her because she didn’t attend Lee’s engagement party with him several weeks back, but she truly had been working late on an assignment. Brad most likely thought it was another excuse she had used to get out of going on a first date with him...which wasn’t the case at all.

Lee’s engagement party was going to be her initial step at trying to see if she could become get involved in a relationship with Brad. Yes...she had been trying for God knows how long to find ways to avoid Brad. Or keep him out of her life because she was apprehensive about getting drawn in by him. Because he came from a pretty well-known family and she wasn’t positive she could handle all of the notoriety that came along with dating a Drace Brother.

“Okay, how about we go out to lunch and we can discuss everything then?” Alicia suggested. “I’m free next Friday if you want to do it then since you’re going out of town for a couple of days next week.”

“I like that. I’ll mark it on my calendar and then leave myself a reminder on my Blackberry.” Tiffany headed for her office door. “Please...don’t take no for an answer. This will be an outstanding piece, if can get all of them to agree to do it.” Tiffany waved good-bye to her before opening her office door and walking out.

Standing alone inside of her boss’s office, Alicia wondered how she was going to pull off interviewing Brad about his successful family plus continued to pretend like she was uninterested in him when that was the furthest thing from the truth.

The Second Challenge by Shermaine Williams

2010-11-22T15:13:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

It had been close to a week.

Amanda had been counting the hours since their encounter and she could think of nothing except when she would see him again. He was no ordinary man, significantly less ordinary than any other man she had been with. Her feelings and thoughts of him were unlike any she had experienced before.

She had only spent a short time with him but it had been long enough for her to develop an addiction. The photo shoot had taken up only a small portion of the night and he’d spent the remainder giving her pleasure. As if he was researching, he led her through a variety of acts, building his knowledge of her body‘s reactions. Every stroke of his fingers felt like sparks of electricity hitting her skin, and she relished every touch.

The sense of urgency that initiated sex so soon after they met never left. It was the reason she knew every inch of his body as he knew hers.

For a day and a half, neither of them had left Benjamin’s house and very rarely even left the bedroom. Since that blissful weekend, she could think of nothing else.

The first thing she did after getting through the door was turn on her computer. It was ridiculous–if there was an email from him, it wouldn’t be going anywhere, but she felt compelled to check.

The PC seemed agonizingly slow. After twice entering her password incorrectly, Amanda finally got what she wanted, but didn’t like what she saw.

She quickly scrolled through the emails and found that none were from Benjamin. It was maddening, especially when he’d sent her a brief email a few days prior, to see how she was. Amanda had sent him an email that needed no reply but she still expected some contact. As yet, he had left her disappointed; similar to how she felt when she’d had to leave his company at the end of their tryst.

Amanda spent most of the day thinking about her time with Benjamin. Their encounter had heightened her desire, making her want him badly. Intense heat flooded her body whenever she recalled his kiss or his touch, like a crashing wave that she couldn’t stop. Her thoughts were powerful enough to make it seem like he was right there. A deep yearning permeated every part of her, eagerness to experience more that made her want to give herself to him completely. She knew that he was capable of satisfying her desires better than any other man could.

Recalling the pressure of his hard body against her sent a shiver down her spine, carving a route to her pelvis and flooding it with heat.

The last photographs he had taken that first night were of her standing against the wall, her wrists locked in handcuffs. She was sure that he wanted to take more photos, but his physical needs took over. The same body that he had been telling her was beautiful had been completely under his control. The thrilling sensation of being completely at his mercy had created a hot pressure within her, gradually building until it desperately sought release.

Every touch was electrifying, easily making her body yield to him before his powerful frame took over. Just the memory of being pinned to the wall made her feel his weight, the pressure of his solid muscles warming her skin.

His stiff shaft had nestled between her cheeks, prodding her as it eagerly sought entry to the warm confines of her body. Frustration had built and she knew she would be unable to take another day of waiting; she hated being left wondering whether he was thinking about her only to get home and find out that he wasn’t. Almost as if she was addicted to him, she was experiencing withdrawal symptoms and needed more of him to feel better.

Not wanting to log out of her inbox without having rectified the situation, she hurriedly composed a message, doing her best to make it sound casual.

Hi Ben.

Haven’t heard from you in a while so just checking how you are.

Hopefully talk soon.

Amanda x

In her haste, she didn’t bother to read it back to check how it sounded; she just clicked send. After several minutes, no new messages had arrived and Amanda felt silly sitting in front of a screen on which nothing was happening— the modern equivalent of waiting by the phone. A few minutes passed before she decided it was impossible to pretend not to be thinking about her inbox if she remained at her post.

After washing the dishes that had sat in the sink since morning, she decided to take a shower, summoning enough will power to stop herself from checking the screen one more time.

While Amanda slowly undressed in the bathroom, she imagined Benjamin was watching her, admiring every inch of her smooth brown skin as it was exposed. She liked to think that she would be able to tease him, have him under her control, make him wait while relishing how much he wanted her. Naked, halfway through piling her silken black locks atop her head, Amanda knew that, in reality, she would happily do whatever he wanted.

As she trailed her fingers through the stream of water to test the temperature, she could picture him standing there stroking his fingers along her body—up from the back of her thigh and over the curve of her bum. The image made her nipples tingle with delight. She could feel Benjamin’s eyes on her, admiring her body as he teased her, making her wait for what he knew she wanted, failing to see any of the flaws that she had. Just thinking about him was torturous, but she could think of nothing else.

Standing under the warm water, she squeezed a generous amount of shower gel into her palm, rubbing her hands together before slowly sliding them over her breasts. Amanda tugged her nipples, gripping them between her fingers just as he had done.

Her strong desire for him made it seem real and she moaned with pleasure as her hands moved down her body, leaving her stiffened buds behind as she caressed her stomach, waist, and hips with the same strokes Benjamin used–exploring her body as if her hands were his.

She pictured him as he caressed her. He seemed mesmerized by the contrast of the color of his hands against her brown skin. Just as he had teased her, Amanda bypassed her labia to firmly massage the front of her thighs before doing the same to the back. Gripping a buttock in each hand, she squeezed them as her clit and nipples throbbed in unison.

She needed him so badly.

Her head started to swim and her body temperature exceeded that of the water cascading down it to the point where, had he been there, she knew she would have been close to begging for more from him. However, she was alone. She’d have to satisfy herself. When she could take it no longer, she moved her hands to the front of her body and parted her thighs.

Her gasp of pleasurable relief bounced off the tiles and echoed around the room the instant her fingers connected with her swollen clit. She increased the pressure while parting her pussy lips with her free hand. Suds mixed with her cream as Amanda thrust her middle finger deep, letting go of her pussy lips at the same time to brace herself by slapping her palm against the tiled wall. Arching her back, she pushed against her hand, forcing her fingers deeper as she stroked her clit with her thumb.

A hot feeling of pressure stiffened her arm and forced her thumb against her clit, sending a shimmering bolt of heat streaking through her body. Her pussy contracted around the finger buried deep inside it. Her ability to breathe ceased briefly and suddenly, the resulting silence as heat flooded her body, making a mockery of the temperature of the water still pouring over her skin. Exhausted, breathing heavily, she stood there for several long minutes before turning off the shower.

Wrapped in a towel, Amanda strode out of the room, dripping all the way back to her laptop. Still nothing. Impatiently, she tapped rapidly at the corner of her laptop, rhythmically drumming her index finger to no particular beat, exerting energy for no purpose—disinclined to stray far from the only link to the object of her desire. She could kick herself for failing to get his number the last time they saw each other.

Amanda looked at the clock. Time was running by so quickly. Evening would soon turn into night and she had brought work home; there was a load of wash waiting to be put into the machine; phone calls to make—not that any of it mattered. None of it was going to get done because she preferred to bask in the glow of the light from the screen, wearing only a towel as she waited for a response.

The desperation with which she hoped to receive a response was out of character but she couldn’t shake it. She was strangely comfortable with the yearning that was building inside her. Benjamin had been able to bring out a whole different side to her, made her do things that she never imagined she’d experience. It gave her a taste for more.

The fact that he hadn’t made any contact left her concerned that he didn’t feel the same way which created a horrible empty feeling in the pit of her stomach.

After refreshing the page, the inbox counter increased by one. The glimmer of hope was dashed the moment she expanded the inbox and saw that the email was from a clothing company to advertise their sale. It was the last straw and she finally admitted defeat, leaving the living room for the bedroom so that she could moisturize her body—something she always did as soon as she got out of the shower.

Toweling off the last few droplets of water clinging to her skin, Amanda dropped the towel on the floor. Staring at her naked body in the full-length mirror, she selected a bottle of lotion only used for special occasions. She needed a treat. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she slowly caressed her skin, smoothing the expensive lotion onto her body, turning herself on in his absence.

She started at her feet, her fingers slowly working moisture into her skin until she reached her thighs. Closing her eyes, she imagined it was Benjamin massaging them before moving over her hips and up to her waist. A shiver of longing swept through her body—needing his fingers to do what she was tempted to do now. It took a lot not to go straight for what she wanted – she was alone, after all – but she wanted to make herself wait. A feeling of pure lust clenched her pubis, her clit throbbing in a demand to be touched.

Replenishing the lotion, Amanda warmed it between her palms—the subtle scent of vanilla that perfumed the skin of her tummy, wafting up over her breasts and filling her head. Her deep brown nipples were already stiff and tingling in anticipation of her touch and a shiver shot up her spine, making her body jump simply by brushing her fingers over them. Running her palms up and down her arms, she attempted to take her time, though the ball of heat that developed in the pit of her stomach was forcing her to rush in order to satisfy the increasing pressure.

Sighing with pleasure, she rolled one sensitive bud between her thumb and her forefinger as her free hand moved back down to her thighs, her palm stroking both before her fingers crept up between them to stroke her pussy, slowly running the pads of her fingers over the smooth skin of her labia. Tilting her head back, Amanda slid her hand closer to her clit, anticipating the imminent explosive release. But then the doorbell rang and jolted her back to reality, filling her with frustration.

Though faintly annoyed, she was still curious about who could be at her door at that time of night. Grabbing a cream satin robe, she hurriedly tied the belt as she went to the door, padding along the hardwood floor. She gripped the latch, and vanity forced her to pull the clip from her tousled black hair. She ran her free hand through it to straighten it making her forget to ask who it was before she found out for herself.

The careful manner in which she had made sure that there was no skin on show was all for nothing when she opened the door and a gust of wind attempted to make a mockery of her efforts by blowing the bottom half of her robe aside to expose her leg up to the thigh. Alarmed at the possibility of flashing her neighbors and any passing strangers, she ignored the door to desperately grasp the edge of the robe to keep it closed.

In her haste, she accidently knocked the door back so that it was ajar. She composed herself – tightening her belt again – before opening it wider with a tentative smile on her lips. Shock caused her smile to slip briefly before it widened on seeing who it was standing on the threshold. The shocked smile remained on her lips as she was rendered unable to speak, her heart pounding against her ribs.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Relationships 4 by Piers Anthony

2010-11-16T16:28:00.000-08:00

Phone Sex

Edna waited politely until the other customers cleared. Then she braced the handsome young clerk of the hardware store. “There was a mistake,” she said. “You undercharged me for this trowel. Here is my receipt.”

The man nodded. “If we overcharged you, we’ll naturally give you a refund.” She noticed that his nameplate said ERLE.

“Undercharged,” she repeated. “See, the price sticker is here. The receipt is a dollar low. I didn’t notice until I checked at home. So I came right back.” She dug a dollar out of her purse.

Erle was amazed. “You are complaining about an undercharge?”

“Not complaining. Merely rectifying. You have to make a living too, don’t you?”

He shook his head. “We seldom encounter this kind of honesty. Keep the dollar; consider it a special sale.”

“No, no. I would have complained as readily if the receipt had been a dollar high. Take the money. I would not want you to get in trouble with your employer.”

Erle looked around. The store was empty for the time being. “May we talk for a moment? Do you have time?”

“More than I like,” she said with a wan smile. She did not clarify that her life was a private annoyance not even approaching the level of hell. Merely the frustration of being denied anything she might ever have wished for. Time? Time for what? She had no destiny. She was a wasted life, useless.

“I will not get in trouble with my boss. I am the owner of this franchise. I inherited the hardware chain when my parents died unexpectedly two years ago. Keep the dollar; I appreciate your honesty more than I need the money.”

She considered him more carefully. He was not only handsome, he was husky. He probably worked out regularly. “You’re the owner? Then why are you clerking?”

“Learning the business from the ground up. Making myself useful. I really don’t know what to do with my sudden wealth, and don’t want to make any foolish mistakes.”

“I am impressed, Erle. I believe I have seen you these past two years, without noticing.”

“And I have seen you, shopping for garden tools, mostly.”

“So we know each other, in a manner,” she agreed. “I am Edna, desultory fifty-year-old housewife.”

They shook hands.

“So be at ease about the trowel,” he said.

“I must compliment you on your attitude. Most wealthy young men would be going for cars, girls, and parties.”

“Not me. I have delusions of amounting to something.”

“No parties? Not even occasionally? Girls are attracted to money. You could surely splurge with a limited dalliance or two.” She paused. “Unless—”

“I’m not gay,” he said. “But also not dating. Girls paid me little attention, until I got rich; now they are all after me, but I don’t trust any of them.”

“I see the problem. Maybe you could date anonymously on the internet, until you are sure one is interested in you for yourself alone.”

“I don’t trust that either. She’d Google me and know, and maybe only pretend not to care about the money.”

“Then it seems I have no answer for you,” she said. “It’s not the kind of problem I ever faced, not having money or beauty. I live economy style throughout.”

“About that, we have sales every so often, with some real bargains. There’ll be one next week. Call to see whether there’s anything you want.”

“I won’t call, but I’ll come in.”

“No need to take the trouble; there might not be anything for you.”

Edna braced herself and said it. “I wasn’t questioning the merit of your sale. It’s that I can’t call.”

He paused. “Oh. No phone?”

“We have a phone. It’s that I have a phone phobia. I can answer, but I can’t call out.”

He stared at her. “You have a fear of phoning?”

“I really do, weird as that may seem. Had it all my life. My husband makes the calls. I’m helpless in that respect.”

“I wasn’t questioning your word. I just couldn’t believe that anyone else suffered that particular malady.”

Now she stared at him. “You too?”

“Me too. That’s the rest of the reason I don’t date. If a girl tells me to call her, I can’t.”

“And you can’t tell her why?”

“Too embarrassed,” he agreed. “It messes me up at the store, too. Our accountant has to handle any outbound calls. I know how badly it limits me, but until I get over it, I’m helpless.”

“And you can’t just get over it,” she said. “I truly understand.”

“Oh, Edna, it’s such a relief to meet you. I thought I was the only one.”

She laughed. “Well, we don’t call each other about it.”

“Please, I would like to know more about you. I never met someone who shared that particular problem.”

“I’m just an old woman trapped in an ugly marriage with nothing to look forward to. Nothing of interest, really.”

“Ugly marriage? It’s not my business, but—”

“He’s got a mistress or two on the side. When I challenged him about it, he said what was I going to do, divorce him? He knows I’m stuck. He has the money and the control. I am in effect a household servant, cooking, cleaning, whatever he wants. So I make the best of it, gardening and so on. I’d be utterly helpless on my own. Because of the phone.”

“Because of the phone,” he agreed. “Edna, I wish I could help you, but I can’t even help myself. Let me take you out to eat, or something.”

“I wasn’t asking you for anything,” she said, more sharply than she had intended. “You told me your situation, so I told you mine. That’s all there is to it.”

“But I don’t want that to be all,” he protested. “I want to keep company with you, because you’re the first person I’ve felt remotely comfortable with in a long time. Because of the phobia. If you could use money—”

“No money,” she said sharply. “I shouldn’t have spoken.”

“I understand how you don’t want anything from me. I respect that. You even came to return the dollar, though you could use it yourself. Please, what can I do for you?”

She laughed bitterly. “Have an affair with me.”

He laughed, and she laughed with him. Then they paused.

Then he spoke carefully. “I am not presuming anything. Just saying that I’m interested. Because I really would like to be with an understanding woman.” He blushed. “Sex—I dream of it constantly. So it’s not completely a joke to me.”

“You can’t be serious. I mean, about me. I’m old and saggy, and look worse naked. You can’t really be turned on by me.”

“Ma’am, I’m turned on already. It’s the phone that connects us; the rest is incidental. I got a ...” He turned sideways, embarrassed, and she saw the bulge in his pants.

“I’ll be damned,” she murmured. “I haven’t had that effect on a man in twenty years.”

“Except your husband, of course.”

“Except nothing. He has no sexual use for me. That drives me crazy, because I am a woman who really likes sex. Any kind, any time.”

He considered briefly. “The store closes at 5 PM. I have an apartment in back. So if it’s not a joke, and you have time...” He shrugged.

“I’ll be there,” she said, surprised by the quickness of her decision. Was she simply calling his bluff?

She showed up promptly at five. He conducted her to his small but well furnished apartment. “You haven’t changed your mind? Because we can just talk if you prefer.”

She removed her clothing, revealing her unappealing body. “If this doesn’t change yours, let’s get to it. I’m no sweet innocent young thing.”

“I’m the innocent one,” he said, stripping similarly. He had a fine body and an enormous erection, the kind she had dreamed about. “I think you look sexy as hell. What do we do now?”

“You haven’t had sex before?”

“I’m a virgin,” he admitted. “I have a huge desire, but don’t want to make a wrong move and ruin it.”

“Then come here,” she said, drawing him down on the bed with her.

“But I’m so big and you’re so small.”

“Not where it counts.” She made him lie on his back. Then she mounted him, set his turgid member to her cleft, settled onto him and stretched her body out against him. “Now thrust,” she said.

He did, and in moments she felt him spurting. She had not had so large and hard a member in her before, and the feel and audacity of the experience so excited her that soon she joined him in climax, kissing him avidly throughout. He truly wanted her! That thrilled her.

Then they lay beside each other, relaxing.

“That was wonderful,” he said. “Thank you, Edna, for a glorious experience.”

“Same here,” she said. “It’s magical to be truly desired, especially at my age.”

“Oh, yes, I desire you,” he said. “Maybe it’s because you’re the only woman I really trust, despite our brief acquaintanceship. I know you’re not trying to get anything from me.”

“Except sex.”

“I’m getting that from you. What will you tell your husband?”

“The truth. He’ll never believe it. How I had one superlative outing with a rich, handsome, young man who plumbed me better than I’ve had in twenty years.”

“If you keep talking like that, you’re going to get me wanting more.” Indeed, his member was thickening. He was young; he recovered quickly.

“You can have all you want. I am quite thrilled to be wanted.”

“How often can you come? I mean, here.”

“I know what you mean. Every day, if you want. Until you tire of me. I do so like having this effect.”

“It may take years for me to tire of you. You truly understand and accept me.”

“We understand and accept each other. At least in one or two respects. We are totally different creatures, but we have a common need.”

“Sex,” he said. His penis was coming erect. “Is it okay again? You won’t mind?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever mind being so ardently desired. I have been hopelessly hungering for that for decades. Do with me what you wish.”

“I’d sort of like—your breasts, and stuff.”

“Take them.”

He half mounted her and put his face to her breasts, hesitantly. He had had little, if any, experience, and needed reassurance and encouragement. She took hold of his head and guided his mouth to her nipples. Soon he was licking and sucking on them. That started working her up again, too.

Before long he was penetrating her again, working up to a slower, longer climax. She did not climax with him this time, but that hardly diminished her enjoyment of the experience. To have such a handsome, husky young man craving her as a sex object! How could she ever get enough of that?

Polar Opposites by Kev Henley

2010-11-16T15:19:00.000-08:00

Prologue – Impossibility

Blue-tinted sunlight streamed through vaulted ceilings, bathing every floor of the complex in a soothing radiance. Shoppers bustled from place to place, from the arcade to the food court, to the trendy stores displaying the latest garb and gear, to the high-tech activity areas. Nowhere else on the planet could someone buy a swimsuit then go next door to swim or surf or sunbathe. If that wasn’t enough, customers could explore virtual worlds or enjoy a wide range of workout facilities and classes. A new section was being built to allow weightless activities.

Yet the busy environments and distractions couldn’t improve Vyn’s mood. A week to spend planetside before returning to patrols and no quality pussy to be found anywhere. Sure, he was slight of build for the current trends of “manly,” and his curly hair, fair skin, and freckles didn’t help his cause. But he was a pilot and combat veteran, damn it!

Most in the service were happily paired by his age, and most of those had children on the way. It was wartime, after all, and the prospect of becoming space dust did wonders for procreation urges. Or so he’d been told.

He could buy what he wanted, though instinct told him it wasn’t the same; no pilot-friendly sex environment could feed his need. What he yearned for was companionship, someone to share his fears and dreams, his losses and his victories when he returned from the skirmishes happening outside their system’s asteroid belt. Someone besides his parents to mourn him when he didn’t return. He needed someone who understood him.

According to his peers, Vyn’s real problem was his lack of assertiveness.

“Dude.” He received a nudge from his nearest friend. “That drink doesn’t hold your answers. Hey, hey, check her.” Though two women walked by, there was no mistaking which one he meant. The blonde flashed all her assets as she passed: flowered panties peeking out from under a mini-skirt, full breasts straining against her tight shirt. Her styled locks and meticulously highlighted face matched her challenging, frisky aura. Without a doubt she was cruising for a fun time.

“Nice, but she smiled at you, Diego,” Vyn told him.

“So, go tag her,” he urged. “Grab her, bend her over this table, rip off her panties, and bury the bone.”

Now four months pregnant, Ann leaned toward him, cupped his crotch, and whispered in a loud voice, “I’d rip these off if you tried that with me.”

“Whoa, babe,” Diego protested, flashing his crooked grin. Six months ago, Ann had walked up to Diego and stolen his heart with an irresistible come-hither look. Since then, he’d pined for her every moment they weren’t together, though he’d never admit it. “I’d never do you like that—I was just teasing. But shit, the man needs something to get him out of this funk.”

She smirked. “Maybe I’ve got what he needs.”

“So give it up already and let’s get to the gym,” said Diego, calling her bluff. “Screw him out of his funk.” To Vyn, they were the model couple, and it made him ache to have the same.

“You perv.” She gave her lover a gentle squeeze. “You’d like to watch, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re making me hard.”

Vyn turned his back his back on their embarrassing antics, and a commotion caught his attention. “Guys,” he called, “check that out.”

“Wow,” Ann murmured. “I wonder what it’s doing in here.”

Weaving through the crowd with speed and grace, the szu-ahni bounded up the set of stairs near their lounging area. Vyn knew from an educational stream that the natives of this planet, dubbed shifters, rarely mingled with humans in their four-legged form, preferring to keep entirely to themselves. For this one to be deep inside the only human colony on the planet was odd, and to show the “panther” form in the crowded mall was even more bizarre. Strangest of all, the shiny black-furred szu-ahni was headed directly toward them.

Amid the gasps and scuffles to get out of the way, the lithe szu-ahni crouched and began to shimmer. Outside of an exhibitionist he’d once seen, Vyn had never been this close when they changed forms. In an instant, the glossy dark hair framed a cute young face; the slender limbs were replaced by a petite figure. As smooth skin replaced the hair, it was clear she was not crouched at all, but seemed to have fallen. Her wide amber-colored eyes were fixed on him.

Without a moment’s thought, Vyn surged to his feet and covered the distance in four strides. Naked and pressed against the floor, she strained her neck to stare up at him with fear or wonder or...

“Hey,” he greeted her softly. “You okay?” A small shake of her head was the only reply, so he reached for her, fully intending to help her stand. “Here, let me—”

As their hands touched, his knees gave way, and Vyn collapsed with a cry. A shock raced through the connection, leaving his senses tingling even as he yanked his hand away. It was his turn to stare at her.

She nodded, as if proving something to herself. “Thought so,” she said, breathlessly. “Felt you close and had to see—had to know. Please. Touch me again.”

He shook his head, shifting his weight to stand, but she grasped his arm and made him sit back down.

“Please.” She crawled into his arms, and Vyn covered her nakedness without a thought to their surroundings. The sensation was bearable now, though currents continuously raced through his body.

The feeling was magnificent, both astonishing and liberating. As if he’d suddenly learned to soar among the golden clouds without having the slightest clue how.

“Oh,” she sighed with small sobs, and Vyn felt her joy. “Oh.”

Instinctively, he squeezed her, trying to surround her with comfort and support. “This...” Vyn had trouble continuing, and when he did, his voice came out in a hush. “This isn’t possible.”

Prescription For Love by Tina Gallagher

2010-11-08T14:24:00.000-08:00

Chapter One

“Kate, your dad is on the phone.”

Kate Grady finished counting the pills in her tray and spilled them into an amber vial. “Thanks Amy,” she said to the counter girl. Taking in a deep breath through her nose, Kate let it out slowly through her lightly glossed mouth. After her father’s fall and subsequent broken hip, Patrick Grady wasn’t adjusting well to his temporary lack of mobility. He called her at least twice an hour just to make sure she wasn’t running his pharmacy into the ground.

“Hi Dad.” Kate tried to sound cheerful, but as this was probably the hundredth call of the day, her patience was wearing thin.

“Hey Katie, I forgot to tell you when I called before,” Patrick said, “I hired a new delivery boy.”

“What’s wrong with Kevin?” Kate smacked her hand on the counter, nearly spilling her coffee. She lifted the mug, took a sip and placed it out of harm’s way.

“Nothing.”

“Does Kevin know?”

Their current delivery “boy” just celebrated his seventy-second birthday. A retired firefighter, Kevin Finnerty had been running deliveries for Grady’s Pharmacy for the past ten years. He was reliable and efficient, and Kate didn’t want to step on his toes.

“He knows.” She heard her father sigh and could picture him dragging his thick fingers through not-so-thick white hair. Before she could ask another question, Patrick cut her off. “Look Katie, Kevin doesn’t want everybody to know, but Lizzie isn’t feeling so good.”

“Oh.” Kate didn’t know what else to say. She cleared her throat. “Well, who is it?”

“Who’s who?”

She rolled her eyes, thankful her father wasn’t able to see the childish gesture. He’d reprimand her despite the fact she was a full grown woman.

“The new delivery boy.”

“Oh right,” he said and cleared his own throat. She wondered if he was thinking back to when her mother first got sick. “Remember little Johnny O’Brien?”

“From next door?”

“Right.”

The child in question flashed through her mind. The last time she’d seen Johnny, he’d been skin and bones topped off with a mass of white-blond hair. A mouth full of braces and coke-bottle glasses didn’t help his appearance.

“How old is he?” she asked. “Can he even drive?”

“He’ll be graduating from Penn State in December.”

“I bet that went over well,” Kate chuckled. In the Minooka section of Scranton, PA where she grew up, you couldn’t throw a stone without hitting a Notre Dame fan.

“Yeah well, you just raise ‘em and hope for the best,” he grumbled. “They don’t always do things you’d approve of.”

Kate flinched. Just when she thought things were getting back to normal with her father, he made a comment like that. He’d been upset when she took her freshly printed pharmacy degree to Philadelphia and set up house with her boyfriend, Thom Chambers.

She still wasn’t sure what upset him more, the fact that she’d left home or “lived in sin”. Patrick hadn’t spoken to her the entire time she and Thom were together and it was only since her mother’s death two years ago, they’d had any semblance of normalcy in their relationship.

“Anyway,” her father’s voice sounded gruff, “Johnny said he’d stop in today to set up a schedule. He’s on summer break, so his hours are pretty flexible.”

“Okay, Dad.” She made sure he didn’t need her to bring anything home, hung up the phone, and picked up the next prescription.

Kate hated when her father withdrew, but she didn’t know how to seal the rift. Once upon a time, she’d been a real Daddy’s girl. Unfortunately, as soon as she’d chosen to follow her own path instead of taking the road he’d so carefully mapped for her, Patrick had cut Kate out of his life. Her mother’s illness had brought her back home, and it was Megan Grady who reminded her hard-headed husband that life was too short to hold grudges. Sadly, he forgot that lesson every once in a while.

Still, Kate had walked Patrick Grady’s definition of the straight and narrow for over two years now. How much longer could he hold on to his disappointment? She cringed at that last thought. Considering her father’s stubborn Irish pride, probably forever.

****

Kate sank onto a wobbly stool, slid her strappy sandal off and rubbed her instep, groaning out loud. Thank heaven it was nearly closing time. Her sound of pleasure still hung in the air when the bell over the door signaled a customer’s arrival.

Slipping the sandal back on, Kate stood and rounded the corner. She nearly tripped at the sight of the man walking toward the counter. Finger-combing blond hair off his face, he looked around the pharmacy. His profile had been hot, but full on his face took her breath away. With perfectly chiseled features, high cheekbones, and a hint of a dimple in his chin, the man could be a movie star.

When she realized she was staring, Kate blushed to the roots of her hair. “Can I help you?” she asked, adding an extra bit of professionalism to her tone, hoping to make up for the fact that she’d shamelessly ogled the man.

His smile revealed perfectly straight, white teeth and twin dimples.

She’d always been a sucker for dimples.

“Katie? You cut your hair.” Twinkling blue eyes met hers.

He seemed to know her, but Kate would swear she’d never met him before. He wasn’t the kind of person a girl would forget.

“Excuse me?”

“Your hair,” he said, unnecessarily pointing to her head. “Last time I saw you, it hung to the middle of your back.”

Kate studied him, trying to figure out where she may have seen him before and still drew a blank. And since she’d just cut her hair six months ago, his comment didn’t offer her much of a time frame.

“Do I know you?” she finally asked.

He chuckled, a deep rumble that went right through her, touching every erogenous zone in her body.

“We grew up next door to each other,” he said. “I was a couple years behind you, but...”

Kate gasped. She actually gasped out loud.

“Johnny O’Brien?”

The last time she saw him, he’d been so skinny a light breeze could have blown him over.

“I grew a little bit.”

Kate cringed when she realized she’d spoken that thought out loud.

“I can see that.”

Had that sultry tone come from her mouth? The surprise that flashed across his face told her it had. Interest flashed in his eyes, scaring the hell out of her. His gaze shifted from her eyes to her mouth and back again. Definitely interest.

Kate had to nip this in the bud. The last thing she needed was to turn into a modern-day Mrs. Robinson.

“My dad said you’re going to be our new delivery boy. When can you start?”

His lips curved into a smile. “When do you want me to start?”

Deciding to ignore his double entendre, Kate picked up a clipboard and flipped through its pages searching for the weekly employee schedule.

“Kevin is in at ten tomorrow.” She clutched the clipboard hoping to hide her shaking hands. “Why don’t you come in then and he can show you the ropes?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped. With a wave, he turned and walked out the door, his cologne lingering on the breeze created by the closing door.

Kate dropped onto the stool.

Johnny O’Brien

She remembered the day his parents brought him home from the hospital. Remembered the gawky little boy with huge horn-rimmed glasses riding his bicycle past her house. And God help her, she remembered the perfect shape of his ass as he walked out the door.

Dark Leopard Magic by Sapphire Phelan

2010-11-08T13:34:00.000-08:00

Chapter One—Dev

In the Beginning

I’d always been different. I had a rough life, too. Well, not for the first part of it, when my mother was still alive.

I don’t remember my birth, but then what child does? Not much afterwards, either, not until I was three years old. Mother told me some details, and about my father. It seemed that he wasn’t like her and me. He wasn’t a shapeshifter, but human. He also was an American—she originated from India.

Guess you could say that I am a half-breed—half human, half wereleopard. I took after my mother and was born a leopard, remaining a cub until I turned one year old, and made my first change to my human body, just like most shapeshifters.

The only things I inherited from her were my ink-black hair and amber-yellow eyes (wereleopards have these color eyes). Everything else—my pale skin, height, and muscular shape—came from my father. I even inherited the darkness that lived in his soul, as I would learn later on.

My father wasn’t in my life, ever. Before I’d been born, Mother had killed him. He had been beating her as he always did when he came home drunk, and that last time was the final straw for her. She described with relish the look of horror in his eyes as she revealed what she really was before she killed him. Though she never said it to me, I suspected that—like the black widow spider—she’d feasted on her lover’s remains, too.

We never went back to her country, India. When I asked her why, she would say, “I had my Dreaming the next night after I had just killed your father and saw my wereleopard mate was in India, but he had been killed by hunters.” She gave a sad little smile. “I would have killed myself when the Dreaming let me know, for when one mate perishes, the other does not want to live. But then, I found I was pregnant with you. The last time the human raped me before I killed the bastard, his seed had managed to take root in my womb. You kept me alive, my darling son.”

I could never get her to tell me anything else. The subject remained closed.

We also never hung around other wereleopards in America, or any other kind of shifter, either. We lived in a cabin in the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia. She allowed me to attend school, but that was it. I was not allowed to have friends over or visit them. It wouldn’t do for the humans in the nearby town to discover the monsters living among them. The kids at school didn’t understand why I didn’t associate with them and they began to call me names. Names like retard, dummy, and when I grew into my preteens, two other names took over: Mommy’s little lover and homo.

Strange as it may seem to others, my mother kept my emotions grounded. My world was just her and me. Daytime was spent in human skin, and nights of hunting beneath the stars in leopard form. Thanks to our hunting (mainly her, I was a lousy hunter when I was younger), deer, rabbit and squirrel meat provided our sustenance. The only time I ate cooked food was noontime at school when I bought my lunch.

One day that all changed. Mother died. She’d been hunting as the leopard when a pack of wild dogs jumped her and ripped her to shreds.

I was sixteen at the time. Afraid to tell authorities that I was alone, even making up some story that my mother had abandoned me or something, I continued to go to school. I kept to myself. My hormones wanted otherwise. I would use my hand at night, hoping that would bring relief.

It didn’t. I decided to get closer to the humans—in particular, one human, Daisy Sumpter. She was a geek who was always reading and got exceptional grades in school. She was also a virgin. I could smell it on her. I decided we would get rid of our virginity together.

It never happened. I got her to go on several dates with me. I supposed she was pleased anyone asked her out, even the bad boy that no one liked. One night I took her to this place where all the kids went to fuck. The odor of sex hung heavy in the air. Heady, my penis grew hard. I began to kiss her, slipped off her top, and fumbled with her breasts. Then it happened. My enthusiasm departed. When she saw my limp dick, she laughed.

Angry, I took the little bitch home. I tried other girls and the same thing occurred. Before long, the homo name stuck to me as the only one everyone called me. Unable to take their taunting and growing afraid of my anger and what I might do, I scrammed one night and left the area.

* * * *

I lived like a wild animal for a couple of years, sticking to my leopard form. Hunted fresh game at night and slept during the day in a large cave I found in the mountains. Without my mother to help me, I didn’t hunt too well. Nine times out of ten, my prey escaped. The easiest things to catch were the occasional rabbit and squirrels. Once, I ran down an elderly deer that hobbled more than bolted. I grew thin.

I thought no one knew a leopard lived in the mountains, or if they heard, thought I was a myth like the mountain lion. My idyllic life ended when I was captured by hunters a year later. I ended up in a circus, performing for countless humans. The other big cats they owned hated me. They knew I wasn’t natural, one of them. After a while, the circus people kept me in my own cage for my own protection. I guess I was too valuable to get rid of. Within two years, beaten down and past caring, I became a shade of myself—an eunuch in all but the literal truth.

One night, tired of what I had become and wanting only to escape, I shifted into my two-legged humanoid shape. Taking a hairpin I had found in the straw of my cage, I used it to pick the lock and fled. The pale light from the full moon splashed an unearthly glow to the area as I walked naked between the circus tents, trucks, cages filled with real animals, and the carny area of rides and games. I stuck to the shadows to avoid as much the humans as possible. I thought I had almost succeeded when I ran into Johnny Tripp, one of the clowns. He had just gotten out of his clown makeup and was as drunk as hell, lolling on the stoop of his RV. Clutching a bottle of cheap whiskey and swigging from it, he paused and peered toward the shadows where I hid. I remained motionless between his RV and the trailer next to it. Apparently, though, he wasn’t drunk enough that didn’t catch movement when I shifted from one foot to another.

Shivering from both the cold and now fear, I breathed in the stink of his dirty body. I ducked down behind a bush nearby, but most of its leaves had been stripped and the plant didn’t afford me much cover. I watched as he crashed my way.

“Who’s there?” he called out. “Come on, I know someone’s hiding behind that bush. I can see gleam of your pale skin.”

I rose to my feet and knew I looked pathetic, barely covered by the dark velvet of the night. My hands tightened into fists.

“Here I am.” My voice barely croaked above a whisper.

I was scared shitless. Who knew what would happen to me. Unlike my kind, I’d been a worthless shifter, unable to hunt well and defend myself much. A ping reached my ears and, looking down, I saw the shine from my claws as they sprouted from my fingertips. They cut into my palms and droplets of blood dripped to the dirt.

Johnny stumbled forward, the whiskey from his bottle sloshing and splashing onto the ground. Its fumes reeked. Nasty and cheap, it offended my senses.

Johnny grabbed me and yanked me toward him. His arms circled around me, and he held me tight against his form. I felt something growing hard against my hip. Worse, my cock began to lengthen and harden. My claws retracted as my arousal deepened.

“You smell sweet, naked man,” said Johnny, and then he kissed me.

His kiss deepened and his tongue found its way into my mouth. The tip traveled along the inside, teasing me with an erotic feather touch. I moaned and answered that kiss, my own tongue meshing with his. My organ grew harder. He slipped a hand down and touched me.

Johnny drew back and laughed. “Mmmmm, you’re a big one, aren’t you? When I have a man, I get first pick. My cock gets first hole.”

Suddenly things changed. He shoved me around and to the ground on my hands and knees. I heard the rustle of clothing, but didn’t dare to look back. Instead, I grew even more excited by the sounds. I could smell his arousal, too. Sweet, it tantalized my nostrils.

Deep into the erotic need, precum wet the head of my cock.

He dropped to his knees directly behind my ass, spread the crack with his work-roughened hands, and I felt something hard probing at the entrance there. It started to worm its way inside. It burned—hurting—then things grew better as I adjusted to it, even though I was dry.

He penetrated me like a man fucked a woman. Even though he hadn’t prepared me or lubricated me, it made me so excited that the change began. I glowed with my beast magic. Johnny apparently never noticed as he kept pounding away.

My human face was the first to go. Like putty, the skin over my skull moved and warped. Then the skull began to reshape itself, too, softening. Whiskers sprouted out of my cheeks. My gums receded and my teeth lengthened and sharpened. They became fangs, and made my small human mouth uncomfortable. To accommodate them, my mouth jutted outwards into a snout with a maw to match. Fingernails and toenails morphed into claws and hands and feet into paws. It wasn’t long before a happily fucking Johnny was pushing his cock into the asshole of a leopard, just under the swishing tail. When my tail brushed against his face, he stopped. I looked back at him and saw him looking down with a frown, as he tried to think with his alcohol-soaked brain. Then the moonlight glittered across my flesh of spots and I knew it also revealed my face. A look of shock, then terror, sketched in his eyes.

Screaming, he pulled out and leaped to his feet, his pants pooling at his feet. He couldn’t run and stumbled. Frightened, angry even, I whipped around and knocked him down. As I lay on him, I stared into his fear-fogged eyes.

“Oh, God, what the hell are you?” he cried. “How can a man become a leopard? I can’t stand you…you monster!”

His fear wafted into my nostrils and my own anger grew hotter. He had raped me and he called me a monster? Suddenly, the years of abuse broke me. With a snarl, I tore out his throat. Blood splashed my face. I rose off his body and knew he was dead. Knowing what that meant, I summoned my beast magic to rid me of the man’s blood and I spirited myself out of the area.

No longer a shapeshifter—now I was a monster for real.

* * * *

The next few years I kept going, taking short stopovers in cities to rest. I never stayed in towns and the country or small burgs, just big cities. I could lose myself among the steel skeletons of the skyscrapers. I would rent out a room at a cheap dive using leftover money I had earned along my journey, or stolen from lovers I’d left behind. When I had no money, I would bunk down at a homeless shelter. That was rare, for I couldn’t trust myself not to be caught doing the change. In a shelter, there was no room to be by yourself; instead you shared a room full of cots with others. The motels and flea-ridden hotels were much safer alternatives.

I found lovers, too—men at gay bars, desperate for rough sex. I gave it to them, reveling in fucking their asses hard or shoving my cock down their throats, almost choking them. I found I liked it like that, loved hurting a lot of the humans. That just gave me further proof that I was some kind of monster, even when not in my wereleopard form.

Unfortunately, one day I screwed up with the violence. I met this man, Tom. Slim, but smaller than me, he had long blond hair tied back in a ponytail. Soft gray eyes rimmed by long dark eyelashes glowed with pleasure when our eyes met. His gaze traveled over my body, stopping at the evident bulge in my jeans. He rose off his bar stool, glass of whiskey in hand, and sashayed over to me.

His lips at my ear, he whispered, “Are you happy to see me?” He palmed the bulge. “Or is that a...”

I grabbed his hand, warning, “Don’t say that tired old refrain. And yeah, I’m horny.” I placed my lips at his ear and flicked out the tip of my tongue, circling his ear with it. He shivered.

I laughed softly. “Forget all the niceties, lover. Let’s go to my place and just get on with it.”

We left the bar with my arm around his waist and my hand planted on his ass, heading for the cheap motel room I had rented earlier that day. The odor of fucking and poor quality wine and beer filled the room. Stains—some I could imagine where they came from, others I didn’t care to know—blemished the bed’s blanket and sheets. It didn’t matter to me, though. The place would do for a night of hard fornication.

I ripped his clothes from his body. He protested. Not much, as no doubt he couldn’t wait for us to get on with it. He crawled onto the mattress and lay on his back, his legs spread wide. His buttocks rose high, and he spread his cheeks to reveal his nice little hole.

Climbing between his legs, I got myself comfortable as I kneeled. His musky odor aroused me and soon I got down to business, sucking his cock and fondling his balls.

I slid Tom’s rod to the back of my throat and began to massage it with my tongue across the length. He moaned and asked if he could play with me. I knew what he wanted and moved around so that he could get a good reach. I moved my mouth up and down his staff as he cupped my balls with one hand and caressed the length of mine with the other one. I took his balls and gave them a gentle squeeze.

He moaned, then kissed the base of my shaft. The more he kissed the soft skin tightly bound around the rock hard core, the more he lingered. He licked and kissed his way toward the head.

I dropped his prick out of my mouth. Oh hell, he’s good at giving head! I thought.

I sucked him harder, running my tongue around the ridge of his cockhead. With a flick, I pried his slit hole apart with the tip of my tongue. The salty taste of precum filled my mouth. I slid my tongue into the slit back and forth. This turned him on all the more and he moved his hips and, in one quick motion, slid my cock down his throat. Lust blossomed inside me, lighting a fire that raced through me all the way to my organ, causing it to grow thicker and longer. I fucked his face hard and fast. I had to give it to the man, he took it and gave it back to me as well as he was getting.

I grabbed the cheeks of his ass and pinched them, alternately sucking his penis and balls as, excited, I began the change. My teeth become fangs—using them, I nibbled on the skin of his rod. The pain apparently made him hornier, for he shoved his dick all the way down my throat until his pubic hairs tickled my nose. That was when he came, shooting his hot jism into my mouth.

Oh God, so tasty!

My fingernails became claws and I gripped his ass tighter, blood streaming from where the tips embedded into the skin. Unable to help it, my balls released their load and my seed slipped down his throat. The change complete, I snarled, still fully aroused, and bit him. The aroused monster in me kept gnawing on his penis until it was torn from his crotch. Then I rolled off of him and swung around, catching sight of cum spitting out of his mouth with the screams. He stared at his cock in my maw with horror, then down at the bloody mess between his legs. I slapped him with a clawed-edged paw. His head snapped back with a loud crack, and he went silent.

He lay there on the sheet, sodden with sperm and blood, his neck broken and the look of terror frozen in his eyes. In my human skin once more, I spit out his organ, right onto his chest.

I left him there. Without a backwards glance for the dead human, I magicked myself out of the building and to the darkened streets outside. I was glad I’d paid several days for that room. The managers wouldn’t check until time for my check out. They would find the body then, but I would be long gone. I could live without my clothes and the spare change I’d left.

The spilt blood and violent sex made me hungry. Though I had killed the man, I never ate humans. My soul wasn’t that dark.

I hunted. Letting my nose do the tracking, I caught the fresh spoor of a couple of feral dogs, just down the street. Staying out of the glow of the streetlights and hugging the shadows, I remained downwind of the mongrels so they couldn’t would catch wind of me. I paced into the alley where my prey hid.

I cornered the frightened beasts. They whimpered and cowered as they saw me. Raising a claw-tipped paw, my muscles bunching to strike, and suddenly I sensed humans behind me.

“Catch the filthy bugger,” said a voice.

No longer caring about the dogs, I whipped around and saw that I was cut off by about seven men. I snarled, hoping that would scare them off.

Instead, the biggest and tallest of the lot stepped toward me, carrying something in his hands. I flicked back my ears, growled, and backed up. Not too far, as my tail and butt found the fence.

Someone whistled. “Come on, Katie and Joe, you did your jobs.”

The dogs bolted past me and ran up to another of the darkened figures.

Stupid twit. The dogs were a trap set for you. Some fucking wereleopard you are.

Then I remembered the beast magic, and just as I was about to use it to get away, the tall one threw whatever thing he held in his hands over me. Made of metal, I figured it had to be a net. The metal burned my skin and I screamed in agony.

Damn it, it was made of silver!

Falling to my side and laying on the dirty cement, the pain felt so immense that I wanted to die. Let the damn humans kill me—at least do it quick. Spare me the silver poisoning, a slow, terrible death.

The tall man grinned down at me. “I was promised a lot of money for you, shapeshifter. Someone filthy rich wants your kind very much.”

Just as I thought that this was it, something very large erupted over the fence and over me, landing mere inches from the man. Taller than him, the thing drew closer, and the next second I heard the terrified screams of the man. With my night vision I saw the human drop to the ground and black wetness flooding from him into a big puddle. The smell of human blood along with urine wafted to my nostrils and I knew that he was dead.

Love Thy Neighbor by Jack Greene

2010-11-02T18:39:00.001-07:00

They were going to kill him.

He’d die happy, but that was beside the point.

It had gotten to the point that Gerard exhibited a Pavlovian response while looking out the window. His heart started beating faster as he approached the blinds, which he always kept angled to let the sun in as much as possible without letting anyone else see in.

He was certain some of his neighbors had no such compunctions. That was the problem.

As he peered through the blinds, other physical reactions began to manifest. He felt his face flush, then the tightening in his lower stomach that signaled the onset of arousal. He wasn’t hard yet, but it wouldn’t be long.

It always happened this time of night, when the sky darkened enough to require lights inside. Their blinds never closed. The effect was like a spotlight, or his own private peep show.

The apartment building was an open square, with a courtyard in the center that held a small pool and some greenery. Gerard had moved in just two months ago and still had half his stuff in boxes. He didn’t know many of the neighbors.

Well, except for them. Not that he knew them, not by name. He’d never spoken to them. He knew parts of them, though. He knew what they did for fun. He knew they wore very little clothing around the apartment.

He knew they were beautiful. He knew they were gay.

The first time he’d glimpsed them, he’d thought they were women. From a distance, it was an easy mistake. They were both very slender, with tiny frames and longish hair. They wore stylish clothes and moved gracefully. But, more than a glance assured him they were both male.

He was quite certain of this because they tended to strip off their clothes with very little provocation.

They looked like models, and he found out later that was exactly what they were.

He could still remember the first time he’d seen them. He had been attempting to unpack but got sidetracked. He’d noticed the glorious colors of a spectacular LA sunset and gone to the window to look at it. As the colors faded into the dusk a light went on across the courtyard, and his attention was drawn by movement.

The two men were both slender and dark-haired, but that was where the resemblance ended. They looked about the same age, early twenties. The taller one had longer hair that Gerard later learned he sometimes spiked up into a faux hawk, but usually wore loose and straight. The other had shorter hair that came to just below his ears and was cut in the type of asymmetric style that was designed to fall over one eye.

The taller man wore makeup almost all the time, and favored tight, designer type clothing while the other dressed in a more punk style, often in a leather jacket when the weather was cool.

He didn’t see all this at once, of course, but over the course of time he’d seen them in the underground parking garage, or by the mailboxes. They’d never spoken to him, but he had smiled once or twice at the pretty men. He’d gotten smiles back from behind dark sunglasses, and he’d felt strangely elated.

He’d been fascinated at first sight; only for a moment had he thought they were women. They’d stood in front of the window for a moment, then the taller man disappeared from view only to appear a moment later, shirtless.

He’d swallowed hard and tried to make himself move away from the window, but couldn’t. Especially when the other man removed his shirt, tossing it carelessly to the side.

Both appeared quite pale, though the shorter man was the lightest. He caught a glimpse of metal from the taller man’s nipple rings, while the shorter one had several tattoos on his arms and chest.

The taller man stepped closer and reached out, and Gerard gasped softly. They’d looked like they were about to…but then he just turned the smaller man away from him. He began to massage his roommate’s shoulders, and the shorter man’s head fell back in evident pleasure.

Gerard tried to tell himself that it was just a friendly massage, but something told him these two were more than friends. There was something in the familiar way they touched. Sure enough, the massage turned more sensual. The taller man pressed up against the shorter, and his hands strayed from his shoulders down over his chest.

As Gerard watched, stunned, the shorter man turned and they kissed, lithe bodies rubbing against each other languidly. He’d stumbled back from the window, cheeks burning. The image didn’t leave his mind for a long time, though.

It wasn’t that he was shocked. Living in Hollywood, he saw same sex couples all the time. He’d seen every flavor of porn imaginable at one time or another. He wasn’t homophobic. He knew what men did together, but it just had never appealed to him. All the gay porn he’d seen had featured big hairy men and had done nothing for him. Shemales were slightly more interesting, but still not too exciting. He’d never imagined two pretty, slim men together like this.

He was amazed to find that he was fascinated by the image in his mind.

The image wasn’t just in his mind, though. Gerard didn’t return to the window for a couple of days, and when he did chance it, he’d seen nothing. No one was home in the apartment across the way.

The next night, he’d happened to glance out, and there they were. They were dancing; Gerard couldn’t hear the music but it looked like something really danceable because the men seemed to have a great time. They danced close to one another, and as he watched they stripped off their shirts and began to dance dirty.

His mouth went dry as he watched; the men knew how to move. They weren’t at all shy with each other, that was clear. They ground against each other, hands roaming, lips parted. They were beautiful together.

That was the first time Gerard thought that perhaps they wanted an audience. Two creatures that gorgeous were made to be watched.

One thought led to another and Gerard’s mind strayed to what else he might watch them do.

Once again, he forced himself away from the window. He felt like a voyeur even though he wasn’t going out of his way to watch.

He wanted to watch, though. He wanted it badly. He wanted to see what came after the dancing. Half hard, he went to the spare bedroom to work out. He pushed himself hard, trying to exorcise the vision of the two young men.

He worked out every day. He liked the way he looked, the way it felt when he was in good shape. He was thirty-five but looked younger. The only indication of his age was a sprinkling of gray hairs that had appeared in his close-cropped brown hair. He refused to color it.

Since he was new to the area, he hadn’t done much besides work and unpack. He’d been out with a few colleagues from work but he hadn’t bothered to date yet. He always found dating awkward; he’d stayed in an unfulfilling relationship for too long because it was easier than dating again. He didn’t want to get into a situation like that again. He wasn’t the kind of man who needed to be with someone all the time. He missed sex, of course, but he always had his hand.

He wondered if his new fascination had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a couple of months. He didn’t think so. He’d gone longer without it before. All he knew was that whenever he thought of sex, the image of his sexy neighbors came to mind.

Roped Into You by Marie Rochelle

2010-11-02T17:13:00.001-07:00

Chapter One

Placing the last of her clothing into the black luggage, Leila Hilson tried closing the lid, but it wouldn’t snap shut. After leaning on it using all of her weight, she was finally able to get it fastened. She knew that she should have invested in a new bag for her road trip, but she was trying to save a few bucks. In addition, she was very attached to the one she was using. It was the last big present her parents had bought for her right before they’d died in a boating accident. Just the thought of giving it away broke her heart, so she’d kept it for all of these years.

“Leila, are you about ready?” Ms. Thurston yelled at her from downstairs. “You’ve been up there for a while. Do you need some help?”

“No, ma’am, I’m almost done. Just give me a few more minutes and I’ll be downstairs.”

Leila quickly got off the suitcase and placed it on the floor next to her. She finished getting the rest of her personal items together and tossed them into the open bag on the bed. She couldn’t believe after living here since she was twelve years old that she was finally going to be moving away.

She wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for the adventure she was about to embark upon. However, Ms. Thurston wouldn’t let her stay at home out of misplaced fear or nervousness. No, she would push her out the door and tell her to live her life to the fullest.

Picking up the bag off the bed, Leila placed it on her shoulder, grabbed her suitcase off the floor and went out of the door. The second she rounded the corner and headed down the steps, Leila spotted the woman who had been like a second mother to her, standing at the bottom waiting for her. The sight of the sweet older woman who had raised her brought a smile to her lips.

“Honey, are you sure that you don’t need any help?” Ms. Thurston asked, again

“Thank you for your offer, but no ma’am, I’ve everything packed up and ready to go,” Leila answered.

Ms. Thurston was about to turn eighty in less than two weeks and she was still moving around like she was twenty-five years old. It always amazed Leila at how young and active Ms. Thurston acted. There truly wasn’t a wrinkle on her sienna skin because her guardian was a stickler about using nightly no-wrinkles lotions and creams on her face and body.

“Now, sweetheart, you don’t have to call me that,” Ms. Thurston corrected with a huge smile on her pretty face. “You’ve been living with us for so long that you’re a part of the family now.”

“Despite the fact they’ve been gone for years, you know that my mom and dad would be very disappointed in me if I called you anything else. They raised me to respect people. Mom was very big on saying treat others like you wanted to be treated and that is what I do. I like being considerate to everyone even the ones who may not deserve it.”

“You’re right. Catherine and James were very big on being well-mannered. They were fine people and raised you to be the same way. I’m also proud to say that they were wonderful when it came to helping out the community. Whenever I needed some help I knew that I could count on them. It’s still hard for me to believe that they’ve been gone for such a long time.”

Tears filled Leila’s eyes as she wished her parents were still alive and here with her, but that wasn’t going to happen. She hated the thought of leaving the house she considered her home. However, it was past time for her to live on her own and try to make a life for herself outside the small community she was raised in.

Yes, she loved everyone here and they were like an extended family to her, but she needed more out of her life. Her parents would have pushed her to move away right after college if they’d been alive. They believed in being independent and choosing the right path for your life in the world...she hoped and prayed this new job was her direction.

It had killed her to let go of her childhood home a few weeks ago, but she had to do it. Selling the property was the first step into leaving her childhood behind and becoming an adult. All while she had been growing up, Ms. Thurston’s son Tony had taken care of the property and even stayed inside the house when he was in town on business or came for a visit.

Leila was overjoyed that she had sold the house to Jacob and Clara Roberts. She had talked to them several times in town and they had always shown a keen interested in owning her old home, so when she finally got up enough nerve to sell it, they had been the first couple she had thought about and it turned out to be the best decision of her life.

Now, she could take the nanny position that Tony had gotten for her in another state. But, she was a little apprehensive because she hadn’t met her new boss yet. Her new employer hadn’t even gone over the new rules or salary when it came to her new position, so she wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

Tony had assured her that she would love the job. But it was hard to let her worries disappear when she had so many unanswered questions, yet she trusted Tony with all her heart and would go with the flow. He would never put her into a bad situation.

Despite all the wonderful encouragement Tony and his mother had given to her over the years, she was still very uneasy about living out in the middle of nowhere for the next three years of her life. Sure, her hometown was small, but it was a place she knew like the back of her hand.

When she walked around in town and people called her by name it brought a smile to her face. She never got any strange looks like she was an outsider. Now she was going somewhere where she would be the ‘new’ person and the inquisitive looks were bound to happen whether she wanted them to or not.

Any time a stranger moved into town the residents there always wanted to know the life story of the new person. She wasn’t all that big on talking about her life with anyone. All she really wanted to do was her job and not stir up any trouble with anyone she might be working with.

Leila had grown to hate the factory job she had worked at since graduating from high school and when the third year was about to roll around, she decided it was time for a change in her career choice. Since she adored kids so much, becoming a live-in nanny seemed like the perfect option. However, she didn’t quit the factory job instantly because it kept money in her pocket while she was attending college.

After graduating from college, she tried numerous times to get work in her hometown, but none here had a need for a live-in nanny since most of the women stayed at home while their husbands worked. She thought she might have made a mistake until Tony came for a visit from Wyoming.

He mentioned how his widower boss was looking for a nanny for his little girl and he thought she would be excellent for the job. So, Tony being the good guy he was faxed his employer her college credits, wrote a five star reference and the rest of it was history.

“Ms. Thurston, I’m going to miss you so much especially all of our late night talks on the porch. You gave me so much fantastic advice about life. I don’t know what I would have done without it.”

“Leila, you’re so welcome. You’re like the daughter I’ve always wanted. I love Tony and he knows it, but you will always hold a special place in my heart,” Ms. Thurston said touching her on the arm. “But I thought that my homemade oatmeal cookies might rank above our nightly talks. You never waited for them cool off on the cookie racks before you would grab a couple and leave the room.”

“I haven’t forgotten about your delicious cookies. I’m going to miss them so much too. They constantly found a way to cheer me up anytime I was having a bad day,” Leila confessed, smiling at the woman in front of her. “I swear they are the best cookies I’ve ever tasted in my life. I’m sorry that I didn’t have you make some for my long trip.”

“Sweetheart, you aren’t going to have to miss them on your road trip at all.” Ms. Thurston removed her hand off her arm. “Come inside the kitchen. I’ve something for you.” Brushing past her, Ms. Thurston headed back in the direction of the kitchen. Placing all of her items on the floor by the entrance table, Leila followed behind her.

“What are you up to?” Leila asked the second she stepped inside of the room. Looking around, she noticed that Ms. Thurston was getting everything together so she could start lunch in a few minutes. She hadn’t even left yet and she was already home sick. She truly was going to miss the homey feel this space always gave her.

“I decided to get up early and make these for you. You can snack on them on your long drive to your new job.” Ms. Thurston grabbed a red and black tin container off the counter by the microwave and brought it back over to her. “Now, don’t eat all of these up before you get there. Save some for tonight and you can have them after you get all settled into your hotel.”

Taking the container from Ms. Thurston, Leila noticed the rosebush and birdhouse on the front of it. They were the two things she loved the most about their backyard. She would sit in the backyard for hours inside the swing and watch the birds as they flew in and out of the birdhouse.

“You didn’t have to do this for me. I know how busy you are with other chores around the house,” Leila said as tears filled her eyes. She blinked a couple of times hoping they would go away, because if she started crying now it would make it only harder for her to leave later.

“Don’t you dare cry on me,” Ms. Thurston scolded giving her a tight hug and then stepped back. “You know that I wasn’t about to let you leave this house without your favorite snack. As much as I would love for you to stay here forever, I know that you can’t. You better get going so you can at least make it to the hotel before it gets too dark.”

Holding the cookie tin to her chest, Leila took one last lingering look around the room and tried to hold on to everything about it that she could. Ms. Thurston and she both knew she wasn’t going to see this place again for awhile unless she came back for a visit, but she didn’t know when that might be because of the schedule at her new job. She hated that leaving this place made her feel like she was losing her family all over again.

“Maybe I should just stay here and go back to the factory,” she suggested as a case of nerves set in. “I was making a pretty good salary working there. I’m pretty sure if I asked my old boss nicely, he would give it back to me. In addition, I hate to think of leaving you here all alone without anyone to talk to.”

“Sweetheart, I won’t let you do that. I’m going to be just fine. Don’t you remember one of my old girlfriends is coming to stay here with me for a few months while she heals from her hip replacement surgery? We’re going to have a good time talking about our younger days. She will be here the day after tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure...” Leila hedged.

“I’m more than sure. You can’t be afraid of the future. It’s yours to do anything you want with. Now make me and your parents proud. Get out of this kitchen and out into that cute car Tony got for you.”

Ms. Thurston gently pushed her out of the kitchen and back into the hallway next to her bags. “You really need to get on the road because it’s already past eight o’clock and you’ve a long drive ahead of you. I’m hoping that you will at least get there before it gets too late.”

“I don’t think I’m running too far behind schedule,” Leila replied. “Tony set me up in a motel for tonight and I’ll check out in the morning. He didn’t want me on the road all night long. I’m hoping when I talk to my new boss that everything will go well.”

“That’s my son,” Ms. Thurston said with a smile. “He’s always thinking of everything. Now are you sure that you’ve all of your things? Do you need any extra money? I don’t want you to have forgotten something in a rush.”

“No, I’ve everything that I need in my travel bag and suitcase. I said my goodbyes to my old house yesterday. It was extremely hard to hand over the keys to the new owners, but I did it and I think my parents would’ve been so proud of me.” Leila held back fresh tears as she tried to stay strong.

“As I told you before, your parents are looking down at you with smiles on their faces. You’ve turned out to be a beautiful young woman on the inside and outside. They couldn’t have raised a better daughter.”

“You helped raise me too,” Leila cut in, wanting Ms. Thurston to know how much she cared about her too. “I couldn’t have gotten through that tragedy without you. You were such a stable part of my life. Tony helped out a lot too. I always thought of him like an older brother. It was kind of fun since I was an only child for so long.”

“Sweetheart, we loved having you as a part of our family and we always will. Enough of this messy stuff because I can’t let you make our final goodbyes even harder. You really do need to get going now or you’ll have me worrying about you until I get your phone call.”

“Okay, I’ll hit the road.” Picking up her bags, Leila went towards the front door and waited for Ms. Thurston as she opened it and followed her outside. Once she got outside she placed her belongings in the trunk of the white convertible and slammed it shut.

“I’m still not fond of this car that my son got for you. He knew better than that, but he always loved to spoil you,” Ms. Thurston complained as she glanced at the car and then back at Leila.

Leila loved the sporty little convertible and was thrilled to have it. Tony knew what she‘d wanted and bought it for her without a second thought, but she’d need to ease his mother’s mind about it. She truly didn’t want Ms. Thurston worrying about her.

“I promise to follow the speed limit and not get pulled over by the cops,” Leila teased and then hugged Ms. Thurston.

“Young lady, you better not get stopped by the police or pick up any hitchhikers either.” Ms. Thurston returned the hug and then stepped back. “You know that Tony and I have already had this talk with you. That’s why I wanted him to drive you there. I wasn’t sure if you could handle such a long drive on your own.”

“I swear to you that I listened to everything you and Tony told me.” Leila didn’t know what she was going to do without this amazing woman in her life. It felt a little strange going on a new journey to a family she didn’t know.

Ms. Thurston planted a kiss on her cheek and then moved back from her. “You be careful, you hear me? Don’t forget that your old bedroom is still ready for you if that old rancher isn’t nice and wants to work you too hard. You can leave the same day and come right back here. I would welcome you back with open arms.”

“I promise I’ll come back home if things don’t work out there. I won’t stay anywhere that I’m not wanted.” Leila got into the car. She started it up, waved goodbye and then pulled out of the driveway wondering what lay ahead for it at the Blue Horn ranch.

Healing The Beast Within by Jaxx Steele

2010-11-01T18:37:00.001-07:00

Prologue
Salem, NC - 1750 AD

The soft glow of light was more prominent as a figure glided smoothly through the trees toward the clearing. In the small space between the foliage were seven cloaked and hooded people standing close in an incomplete circle around the fire.

One person stood apart from the rest and nodded to acknowledge the newcomer’s presence. The arrival bowed her head and knelt before them. The individual removed their hood revealing the softened features of an aged woman. The crackling blaze lent its radiance to her well-preserved beauty. Her voice was gentle and feminine when she spoke.

“We have come together many times to intervene where justice for women was needed, but it has been a long time since we have gathered. Why have you summoned us here to call upon the powers of darkness, Olivia?” she questioned.

“My granddaughter has been treated unfairly by her betrothed. I seek to punish this man, Veronica.”

“Please explain?”

“Six months ago Dominic McNeal promised to return and marry her. When he arrived on their wedding day, he was already married to another, breaking his pledge some time ago.”

Shocked gasps spread across the clearing. Veronica sighed and shook her head.

“Granted, sister, leave it to me. I know what to do.”

Olivia rose and walked toward the people within the circle. Someone offered her a cloak to don before she joined the circle.

Veronica raised her arms. The coven members mimicked her movements, closing the circle with their clasped hands. Veronica hummed and the rest followed her lead. As their combined voices rose in crescendo the flames burned brighter. The small inferno went from bright yellow to pale red as the droning continued. Veronica didn’t speak again until sparks jumped violently into the air.

“As we call upon the powers of darkness seeking justice for one of our own, we offer a sacrifice of blood.”

One of the cloaked figures passed an athame down as Veronica paused. Olivia stepped forward with her arm extended over the heat. She took the knife handle with her left hand. With no hesitation she quickly slid the blade across her right wrist. A small yelp came from her lips. The murmurs increased. Bright red blood trickled in a steady stream falling into the fire making it blaze and sparkle even more. The flames licked at her arm and her wrist healed. The dripping stopped, Olivia returned to her place in line and Veronica continued.

“We ask that you condemn this man, Dominic McNeal, for dishonoring our sister’s family. Not only must he pay, but those that come from him will pay as well. For humiliating one of ours, the first son born of his bloodline will be a creature of the night! That is our prayer! Knowing that they will never experience the joy of being happy with a woman again will be our revenge!”

As Veronica grew silent the humming ended and the small conflagration exploded with a loud popping sound. Veronica lowered her arms.

“It is done, sister. Go in peace, until we meet again.”

Use Your Illusion by Jade Falconer

2010-10-25T21:11:00.001-07:00

He felt so nervous. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He didn’t know anyone at the party except for Brent. He’d overheard him talking about it to one of his stupid jock buddies. No, Tanner wasn’t invited, but he knew he wouldn’t be turned away.

He was dressed like a girl. And he looked really hot.

He’d never done anything like this before outside of Halloween parties, but he knew what to do. He’d waxed every inch of his body, although he didn’t have much hair anyway. He already had the knee high black vinyl boots from a trip to New York City the summer before school started. It wasn’t difficult or expensive to get a slutty size zero outfit to fit snugly on his narrow hips. The most expensive part of the outfit was the Miracle Bra from Victoria’s Secret with the built-in silicone.

By the time he started up the walkway to the somewhat dilapidated fraternity house, the door had already opened.

“Where have you been all my life?” a boy slurred, nearly falling out the door at Tanner’s feet. Tanner sighed and stepped over him. He was relieved that the rooms were crowded. It was loud and smoky and easy to get lost in the crowd. He got a few stares, but for the most part, no one seemed to think Who’s that freak boy in drag? They seemed to be thinking I’d like to hit that, or at least that’s what it looked like from the leers he was getting.

He had to find Brent. He moved through the crowd, head held high like he owned the place, never betraying the fact that his stomach was flipping. He moved into a room where a couple of boys were playing bartender from a keg, and he waited in the impromptu line for a beer. Something to calm his nerves.

“Oh my God, I love your boots,” an obviously drunk sorority girl giggled. “How can you walk in them?”

“They’re not so bad,” he said, smiling. His voice, at least, was soft and breathy, practically like a girl’s. He moved up in the line, then spotted him next to the keg. Tanner’s gaze raked over him. Brent. The object of his desire since he’d started school. He was handsome, big…strong. Brent was a football player and never once looked at Tanner. Why would he? Obviously he was straight, but it wasn’t fair. Tanner could be as pretty as any girl. Was it that different?

The football player’s white shirt and snug jeans showed off his stunning body perfectly. Tanner shuffled closer, biting his lip as the guy in front of him got his beer and moved away.

“Seriously, dude. I thought I was gonna fail. I overslept and...holy shit. Hello there....” Brent stared at him now, turning away from his friend who was pouring the beer. His gaze tracked all over Tanner’s body.

Tanner blinked and smiled sweetly. He was sure he’d never sensed Brent looking at him like that. Could it be that easy? “Hi,” he said, pretending shyness. “You’re Brent, right? I’ve seen you at games and stuff,” he said. Of course, he had two classes with Brent, but he couldn’t say that.

Brent blinked. “Yeah, I’m Brent,” he said as his friend hooted. “Do I know you?”

Tanner bit his lip again. He flipped his silky black hair over his shoulder nervously. “No. I’ve just...seen you around. I don’t think we’ve ever talked before,” he said, taking the beer that the other boy offered him. He could see that Brent was intrigued and he smiled. “Well, see you,” he said, stepping out of line and turning to walk away. He paused for a moment and glanced over his shoulder to see if Brent was checking out his ass.

Brent stared after him, then stumbled as his friend gave him a shove. Then he trotted after Tanner and called out, “Wait!”

Tanner stopped again and turned. “Is something wrong?” he asked, feigning innocence. It couldn’t really be this easy, could it? For almost two years he’d been trying to get Brent’s attention. He’d done everything he could think of short of going up to him and forcing himself in Brent’s line of vision. Now Brent was running after him like he had him on a leash.

“Um, no,” Brent said, stopping in front of Tanner. “I just...” He glanced back at his friend as if looking for encouragement, then back at Tanner. “I don’t even know your name,” he finally said.

Tanner was glad he’d thought this far. At least he’d made up a little cover story. “My name is Nena. Nice to finally meet you,” he said, holding out his hand to Brent. The handsome boy had never looked more adorable now that he was unexpectedly bashful.

Brent took Tanner’s hand gently, as if it might break. “Nena. That’s a pretty name,” he breathed.

Tanner giggled a little. “Thanks, Brent. So...do you belong to this frat? Or are you just here for the party?” he asked. He took a step back to get out of the way of traffic, and leaned back against a doorframe in a deliberately provocative way, inviting Brent to move closer.

Brent took the invitation. “I’m not in a frat, no,” he answered, clearly fighting hard not to ogle Tanner. “Just hanging with friends. I almost didn’t come here, I don’t usually party that much. Coach gets really pissed if I have a hangover...”

Tanner nodded. “I guess I’m lucky you decided to come to this one. I’ve been hoping to get a chance to meet you.” He licked his lips slowly. “I go to all your games. You’re such an amazing athlete.”

Brent’s eyes widened. “You have? You do?” He seemed stunned. “Um, why did you never talk to me before? Are you a cheerleader?”

Tanner shook his head. “No. I’m not a cheerleader. I guess...so many girls are always sighing over you I was intimidated.” That part was true, although there didn’t seem to be much competition around now. He arched his back a little and took a deep drink of his beer for courage. “It must drive your girlfriend crazy,” he said, clearly fishing.

“I’m, I mean, I don’t have one. Right now,” Brent said, blushing. He looked down into his beer and mumbled, “Not for a while, actually.”

“Good,” he breathed. He took another sip. “I would have to hate her if she existed, anyway.” He was feeling bold. Brent was obviously eating it up, and it seemed so easy. It gave him confidence in his ability to appear female.

Brent looked up quickly and smiled. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen you before. I must have. You seem familiar somehow. I know I would have remembered such a beautiful girl.” He moved a little closer.

Tanner tilted his head, exposing his long, slim neck. “I am sure you have never noticed me,” he said with a shy smile. “Despite my best efforts.” He sighed. “Perhaps I am not the kind of girl you are interested in?”

“God no, you’re incredible,” blurted Brent, then blushed. “I mean, I’m sure I’ve never, um, talked to such a pretty girl. I mean. Like this.”

Tanner reached out and put his hand lightly on one perfectly formed pec. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. I know all the prettiest girls wish you would notice them.”

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Brent breathed, leaning into the touch. “Um...do you want to go out some time? Like to a movie or something?”

Tanner’s eyes widened. “Really? I’d love to. Anytime.” He licked his lips. It seemed too easy, and the beer was starting to affect his thoughts. He felt bolder, which was good, he decided, so he took another sip. “This is a great party, but...it’s a little loud in here. Do you want to go for a walk?” he suggested.

Brent’s smile widened. “That would be awesome. I’m not really big on parties myself.” He drained his beer. “Ready to go?”

Tanner tipped back his beer also, then put the cup aside. “I’m ready,” he said, nodding. He followed Brent through the tight crowd back to the front door. His thoughts were zooming ahead. Maybe Brent would even kiss him. Maybe they would find a quiet spot and hide away from the already almost deserted streets and Brent’s big hands would rest on Tanner’s hips and they would kiss. He sighed as they stepped carefully down the stairs around a boy who seemed to be passed out on the ground.

“Sorry,” sighed Brent. “They’re celebrating something, I guess.” The night was warm and sultry, and they walked past the frat houses now and the moon shone brightly.

Tanner walked beside Brent, feeling triumphant and just a little tipsy. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he asked. He felt nervous and excited. He just hoped Brent really liked him. He wasn’t completely processing the fact that he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t.

Brent smiled and shyly took Tanner’s hand. “Much more beautiful now,” he breathed, gazing at him.

Tanner was completely entranced. He’d wanted Brent from the first moment he’d ever laid eyes on him, and now the object of his affection was calling him beautiful. “You’re so sweet,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “How is it possible that I am so lucky to be the one here with you now?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing,” Brent said, squeezing Tanner’s hand lightly as they walked down the quiet street. “I can’t believe I never saw you before.”

They approached one of the few parks at the edge of campus, and Tanner glanced over towards a line of benches under a tree-lined walkway. “Do you want to...maybe we could sit down?” he suggested.

“Sure,” Brent said eagerly, tugging Tanner over to a particularly private bench. He brushed it off quickly before Tanner could sit down.

Tanner smiled and sat down gracefully. “Thank you,” he said, crossing his legs. Even so, the tiny skirt rode up, showing off his long, slender legs even more.

It was clear Brent was trying not to stare, but failing. “I’m really glad I came to the party tonight, and that you did, too,” he said..

Tanner’s heart pounded. All he could think about was kissing Brent. He wanted to crawl right into his lap, but it didn’t seem like something Nena would do. “And why are you so glad, Brent?” he asked softly. It was difficult to act demure. It was almost killing him.

Brent smiled shyly. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Because I met you,” he said quietly.

Tanner reached up and brushed his knuckles against Brent’s cheek. At least he knew that his hands were extremely girly. “You are so sweet, Brent. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to talk to you.” He bit his lip, gazing into the other boy’s eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Brent sighed. “Nena, I...can I...kiss you? Please?”

Tanner whimpered. “Yes. Please.” It was everything he’d ever dreamed of. He felt like he was in a movie or a fantasy of some sort.

Brent took a shuddering breath and leaned closer. He kept his hands in his lap as he very gently brushed his lips against Tanner’s. Tanner reached up, holding onto Brent’s broad shoulders. It felt amazing, better than he’d ever dreamed. He sighed, lips parting.

Brent kissed Tanner again, more firmly. He kissed slowly and tenderly still, as if Tanner was breakable. One hand came up to stroke Tanner’s sleek hair.

His hair was his Achilles heel, and Tanner longed to feel Brent’s strong fingers lace through it, hold him firmly by it. He wanted more, and he took a chance. He shifted, half-standing and moving to settle sideways on Brent’s lap without breaking the kiss. The other boy was so big it made Tanner feel small, and he loved that.

That wrought a deep moan from Brent, and his other hand came up to the small of Tanner’s back to steady him. The other hand still touched Tanner’s hair, and he kissed him more urgently.

Tanner was in heaven. He’d wanted this for so long. He wriggled a little closer and he felt that Brent was hard. And huge. He gasped, scooting back, eyes wide. “Is that...because of me?” he whispered, licking his lips.

“I...I’m sorry,” Brent said instantly, stammering. “I couldn’t help it, you’re so sexy...I would never...”

Tanner bit his lip. Brent was so sweet. So charming and gentlemanly. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean...I’m flattered that you find me attractive,” he said quietly. “Kiss me again?”

“Oh, Nena,” Brent sighed, and wrapped his arms around Tanner more confidently this time. “You’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever met.” Then he kissed him again, moaning softly.

It occurred to Tanner that this might end very badly. Something about the word girl on Brent’s lips jarred him out of his lustful haze and he stiffened a little. What if Brent wanted to have sex with Nena? He was going to have to do this carefully. He pulled back from the kiss. “We...we should go back,” he breathed.

Brent looked immediately crestfallen. “Oh, okay. I, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” he looked miserable and let go of Tanner.

“No, I mean...” He didn’t want to screw it up completely. “I’m not used to things going so fast,” he said, trying to look shy. Of course, that was not really true. He would be more than content if they did it right then and there, but even if Nena wouldn’t look cheap for suggesting anal, there was no way Brent wouldn’t notice Tanner was not a girl.

“Of course, I’m sorry if I pushed, I...you’re just so pretty and I...” Brent bit his lip and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

Tanner put his finger to Brent’s lips. “You don’t have to apologize. I wanted you to kiss me. I just, I don’t want to let things go too far too fast.”

Brent panted and looked clearly disappointed, but he nodded. “Would you still like to go out with me?”

Tanner sighed. Brent was so sweet. “Of course. I would love to go out with you.” He kissed the corner of Brent’s lips. “When?”

“Anytime,” Brent said instantly. “Um, I’m sure you’re super busy, though...”

Tanner smiled. “How about tomorrow night?” he asked. “Do you have a single? Or do you have roommates?” He definitely couldn’t bring Brent back to his place.

“I have a single,” Brent replied, smiling. “Now I can’t wait till tomorrow night.”

“We could get some takeout food or something?” he suggested. At least in private, if Brent figured it out he would feel less like he was tricked in front of his silly jock friends. Not that Tanner was trying to trick him, but he could imagine what it would look like.

“Sure,” Brent said, brightening. “We could watch a movie or something...” He hesitated. “We can also go out if you want, though,” he added.

Tanner ran the tip of his finger along Brent’s jaw. “Staying in would be nice, though, wouldn’t it?” At least if they were alone in a safe place, maybe Tanner could control how things happened. Maybe Brent wouldn’t even have to know.

Brent moaned softly, and smiled. “Yeah,” he breathed. “You trust me to behave myself?” he asked, tone light.

“Well, I don’t want you to behave too much,” he said, giving Brent a flirty smile. He wanted him so badly. He just had to figure out how to get past this hurdle.

Brent’s smile increased. “Good,” he said. “Now I better get you back home before I have to kiss you some more and then we’ll be here all night...”

Tanner nodded. “Okay. But, if you can just walk me back to the party, I can take a cab. It’s too far to walk, anyway.” He didn’t want Brent to know where he lived. Who knew what could happen, but until the cat was out of the bag, he wasn’t taking any chances.

Brent frowned. “I should make sure you get home safely,” he insisted.

Tanner wriggled off of Brent’s lap and shook his head. He straightened his skirt. “I’m fine. Thanks.” He smiled sweetly. “Just back to the frat house?” he asked, holding out his hand. “Please?”

Brent nodded and stood up, pulling Tanner into his arms. “I can’t wait till tomorrow night,” he sighed.

Tanner hardly needed a taxi. He could have floated home. By the time he turned the key in the lock of his tiny off-campus apartment, he was more than ready to tumble into bed and dream of Brent. His roommate didn’t raise an eyebrow when he stepped into the living room in full drag, considering he’d borrowed some of his makeup from the other boy.

“You look like you had fun,” he said, looking up from the couch.

Tanner flopped down into one of the arm chairs, keeping his knees demurely closed. “You have no idea,” he said dreamily. He couldn’t even think about the challenges ahead, only of the sweet kisses Brent had given him.

“Did he figure out that you’re a boy?”

That made Tanner frown. “No. He had no idea. I sat in his lap and everything.”

Before a more in-depth conversation on the subject could develop, Tanner claimed exhaustion and excused himself. He went to his bedroom and peeled off the provocative clothing, and crawled into bed.

Lichess by Kev Henley

2010-10-25T20:23:00.000-07:00

Part One

He watched from the shadows between decorative buildings of stone and stucco. A sleeping sun had allowed the balmy air to cool, and though a sheen of sweat graced the young women’s faces, the man felt little but his desire. In the distance, he heard boisterous laughter rising above a steady backdrop of city noise. Yet, this district seemed subdued in comparison to most areas of Rome, for proper folk were abed.

It was one of the reasons he chose this spot. Every adventure began in a quiet place.

Clearly a corrupting influence, the older of the two laughed in rich tones, wearing a light, saffron yellow dress that caressed her curves as she swayed down the paved street. The childish giggler wore thick white robes more suitable for outdoor appearance. Little sister? No, that did not feel right. Admiring friend, perhaps even the pupil. It would not be the first time a tutor took the student to experience facets of life unavailable in normal studies.

Each woman glowed with her own special youth and vigor, irrespective of the flickering light cast by the street side pottery lamps. Skin shone and flowing dark hair glistened as the animated one all but skipped to keep pace with the sensuous strides of her role model. This girl was health incarnate.

He would take her—and her naughty friend—whether they wanted it or not. Even as they headed toward busier streets he waited. Patience and savoring went hand-in-hand, much like the young beauties.

Laughing off catcalls, the pair sauntered down the stone-paved streets toward some unimportant destination, their glibness speaking volumes about their alcohol level. A frown crept onto that intent face as the watcher shifted to another shadow. Alcohol dulled the spirit, even if it made the process easier—easier, however, was not what he wanted. He liked the challenge, reveled in the capture.

Taunted, horny men could only take so much of the delicious sight from afar, and three of them stepped into the women’s path, blocking their progress. The playfulness turned to complaints as hands groped them and lips kissed them. A squeal showed the first sign of true alarm as one large hand squeezed tender flesh. It was time to act.

“Vir honestus,” said the emerging shadow, “that will be quite enough.” The man stepped into the street, toward the group.

“Wait your turn,” one retorted, his hand still squeezing a nubile breast through the thin robe.

“Look at me, and see to your safety. You will unhand these ladies and find whores to sate your lust.” Boldness and another step had their attention. Images flitted through minds softened by alcohol and lust, flashes of violent dismemberment and gushes of blood. A looming presence promised pain and terror to those who did not obey, which was more than enough warning for them.

As the muttering faded into the distance, the man held up his arms for the girls to take, saying, “You ladies apparently have been separated from your escorts, so now I must assist.”

This earned giggles, and both young women hooked their arms in his, shivering imperceptibly at the contact. “We are most fortunate to have a rescuer,” the older, more brazen one stated as they resumed walking. “I am Felicia, and this is Lena.”

He nodded his head to each. “This pleasure is mine.”

“A most unusual accent, sir.” Felicia quirked a haughty eyebrow. “May we know the name of our rescuer?”

“I am called Erezavnuri of Parthava, but you can call me Erez, if you prefer.”

“Parthava?” Lena asked, receiving a glance and a smile from her new escort. She was exquisite, with her light step and touch upon his arm. All treasured innocence and vibrancy. Delicious.

“You call the area Parthia—many weeks of swift journey to the east, and the portal to further lands, beyond even the reach of Rome. Many of those places I have seen.”

“Oh.” Felicia leaned into him, and he felt a nipple on his arm as they moved. Too easy. “And what would a Parthian be doing here?”

“Though I am a prince in my lands—an ashavan—where better to live than the capital of the world?” He halted, placing a hand on the bare skin of Felicia’s neck. She drew a shocked breath and stared at him. “There is much to know, much adventure to be had,” he continued. “Not so tame as Ovidius’s poetry, and not so safe as the parchment you hide away. More than sharing a bottle of wine with your young friend and seeing what trouble you can cause on the streets at night. Much more.”

“How do you know?” Felicia’s question was a whisper.

Erez smiled and lowered his hand. “Ashavan means a possessor of truth, Felicia. Would you like to see more truth? More than you ever will otherwise? Would you like to see how a foreign prince lives?” She could only nod, caught in a web of fascination with this dark, powerful stranger. He then shifted his stance and his gaze toward Lena. “And you, little one? Has the wine made you bold enough to peek behind the veil of your structured life?”

“I...” Lena began before drawing a breath and shaking her head. “Can you escort us home, kind sir?”

“And what would you learn there?” he soothed. “That your time is boring and you walked away from the thrill of many lifetimes? You might hold yourself back and be shy, but even in the lamplight, I see a flush of excitement shines your face.”

“Thank you for the offer, Erez—Prince Erez—but we best return before Felicia’s husband comes looking.”

He glanced at Felicia, who said, “Come on, Lena. Just for a little while. Davius need never know of this.”

“Truly,” Erez encouraged. “He need never know, and you can learn much outside your limited knowledge. Experience enriches life, and is that not what you came for? Take my hand. My villa is close.”

Felicia eagerly clasped the offered hand, but it took a long moment before Lena gave in. Each woman gasped as their skin met, and they resumed their slow pace while the hunter talked to keep their focus on him. “Listen to these earnest words: you are right to seek more, for life is about finding truths. As only one example, pleasure makes you curious, for underneath is a truth you desire. An awareness of a greater reality. In my travels, in my life, this is the reality I explore.”

The girls breathed heavily, as if running instead of casually strolling toward his residence. He suppressed a smile, assuring them, “I will show you only a tiny amount at a time—have no fear, for I am fully sensitive to your anxieties.” As he said this, he focused on the younger face. “You sense power, mystery, yet this need not frighten. Rather, it should thrill you and confirm what you see sometimes in your dreams. There is much more than this.” He waved their combined hands in casual contempt at their surroundings.

Both girls blinked in surprise as they walked through his foyer. They glanced about to see who opened the door, but they could not see a soul.

“Quiet now,” he cautioned, “lest you wake my servants.”

The prince led them through a richly decorated courtyard and into the large kitchen, lighting a horn lantern before continuing. Utensils shone in the dim light, scattered about the counters as if the cooks had decided to leave their mess until the morning. His other hand did not release its grip on Lena.

“How odd,” Felicia commented when he presented a large pantry as though it deserved special notice.

He corrected her. “Mysterious, you mean, waiting for you to discover its secret.” He urged her to step in ahead of him. “Open your eyes and tell me what you see.”

The woman shifted uneasily and glanced at Lena, who remained quiet. “This a trick question?”

“Not quite, Felicia. Merely a test. Place your palm against the back wall and speak my name.”

Now she considered him in a different light, but he held her gaze until she did as he bade, placing her hand against the wall. “Erez.”

“My full name.”

Felicia blushed. “I am afraid I forgot it.”

He scowled slightly, but did not want her to spook, so he transferred his attention to the younger. “You remember it still, Lena?” When she nodded, he praised her. “Good girl. Now show your friend a simple truth.”

With small movements, Lena placed her free hand against the wall. “Erezavnuri.” The wall swung away.

Felicia gasped, her eyes flying open in symmetry with her mouth. Lena began to collapse, yet Erez anticipated and caught her in the crook of his arm, bringing her against his strong body.

“And now you know a small piece of truth,” he stated as he cradled one of his prizes. “This door only opens to my name—the key is a gift from me. Here, hold the lantern while I help your friend.”

“Is she okay?”

“She seems to have fainted, but she will be fine once she rests. The initial shock can be surprising. Lead the way.” Erez motioned for her to descend, but she only looked with unease at the stone steps that led into darkness.

“What is down there?”

“A place for Lena to rest, and more truths for you to experience. You know not what lies beyond in this most secret of homes, but I assure you it will be thrilling.”

“How...?” Felicia stammered as she took the first tentative step down. “Did she really open the wall by saying your name?”

He nodded, scooping up the limp girl and urging Felicia forward. “It opens through no other means.”

“Sorcery?” Her voice came as a whisper. “It has to be.”

“Knowledge,” he corrected her once again. “Once you know the truth, you gain power. Did you pay attention to my name this time?”

“Yes,” she said. “Erezavnuri, right?” Behind the door swung shut like a trap closing, and the hunter chuckled.

“Very good. See? Your eyes are opened a tiny amount. Now if you would hurry—your friend is getting heavier with each breath.”

The steps curved and opened into a large room, deeper even than it was wide and littered with ornamented furniture. Foreign weapons and armor were displayed on the walls. Grandly painted privacy screens hid recesses, and exotic incense flavored the air as well as providing faint light. The nearest furnishing was a massive bed of stout columns at each corner. Soft black silks veiled the sheets, which looked ruffled and soiled.

As she parted the hanging silk so he could lay the unconscious girl on the bed, Felicia balked. “You have no wife or mistress?” There was no feminine touch to this space, and common wisdom dictated loners were the most dangerous.

“Place the lamp on the bedside stand and come with me.” He patiently waited for her to comply and take his offered hand. Her situation was settling into her head, and already she moved with reluctance. Too late and too easy, but tasty, nonetheless.

“What are those?” She gazed with distraction at the paintings of garish, twisting creatures that adorned the nearest privacy screen.

“Those images depict dragons, curious Felicia. A rare and magical creature of lands in the far reaches of the world, said to consume souls—though there is little truth in the tales. Only the tiniest measure, for I have studied one of the few in existence.”

“You’ve been there.” This whisper was less of a question than a realization, and he didn’t bother to acknowledge it.

Erez drew her deeper into the giant room, which became dark enough for her to doubt her eyes. As she gasped and halted, the ashavan slid behind her, releasing her hand in favor of gripping her upper arms.

Felicia began to quiver at the sight before her. He hovered close enough to touch her dress with his body. With a deep breath, he absorbed the faint mix of perfume and female musk—a combination that before long would fight the incense in the room for dominance. Savoring her fearful excitement, Erez bent to brush his lips against the skin of her neck.

She groaned, weakening. “Please.”

“You knew this quest for truth would not be easy, not in the places where your instinct resides. Feel the swirl in your belly, between your legs.” A hand slid over her shoulder and dipped into her thin clothing. “Have no fear, your pleasure will be as great as your pain.” With that, fingertips closed around her prominent nipple.

Her legs nearly buckled, and she panted.

“Your womanhood seeps, does it not? Because it knows the experience of your lifetime is drawing close. Feelings beyond anything you have imagined.” He twisted the exposed nipple, holding the whimpering woman in place while sliding her dress to the floor. “Step up to the restraints. Attach them to your wrists.”

Once he released her nipple, she took three faltering steps and reached for the manacles. Each clicked into place with a definitive sound. The captor pulled the lead rope, which ran through a hook in the ceiling, and her hands rose above her head. He soothed her, stating it would keep her from collapsing in an undignified heap when the pleasure became too much, and then he secured the rope once satisfied with the level of tension.

Her nipples strained under his renewed touch, muscles quivered as he stroked her exposed sides, and her belly fluttered as he caressed it. Short, tan curls on her mound matched her shoulder-length hair—those curls dampened as he slid two fingers across her clit. Felicia whined as his fingers lazily circled her nub, making her hips twitch. When she closed her eyes to escape his piercing stare, the fingers left, and she could only shiver and gasp for breath, and try to keep her full weight off her trapped arms.

Onikoroshi by Augusta Li and Eon de Beaumont

2010-10-25T16:33:00.000-07:00

Chapter One

Blindfolded, Graham took slow, halting steps with his hands extended in front of him. Warm, still air pressed down on him, and he thought he smelled a faint hint of sandalwood. Wood creaked softly as he picked his way carefully through the space, but otherwise nothing broke the silence but the faraway tinkle of water. Sweat broke from Graham’s brow beneath the dark scarf that obstructed his vision.

“Take off your slippers,” Alan tried to say calmly, though he failed to suppress his excitement.

Graham pressed his palm against the wall to balance himself as he toed off his footwear. He heard a papery swish before Alan’s hand closed around his wrist and urged him forth. His bare soles met a strange texture and, thankfully, a breeze cooled his skin and ruffled his hair.

“Ready?” Alan asked, the giddy delight strong in his voice.

“I’ve been ready since you tied this thing over my eyes half an hour ago, love. Why all the secrecy?”

“You’ll see.”

Alan’s hand felt cool as it brushed up Graham’s cheek and pushed off the blindfold. Graham’s eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the early morning light, and he took in his surroundings. He stood in a spacious, wooden room carpeted with bamboo tatami mats. A low, wooden table surrounded by four embroidered cushions sat in the center. An alcove held an arrangement of late summer flowers, and another arrangement sat on a short night table. Directly opposite the door he’d entered, the rosy light filtered through a wall of rice-paper shoji screens.

“Come on,” Alan coaxed, hurrying across the room to push aside one of the screens. A shaft of light washed over the black-haired young man as he stepped out onto a small balcony.

Following, Graham inhaled at the breathtaking view of the Japanese garden with its curling bamboo, blood-leafed maples, wooden benches, graveled paths and weathered statuary. Beyond, he saw the quaint rooftops of houses stretching down a verdant slope. A tiny village nestled at the flat place at the bottom. In the distance, a snow-crowned trio of mountains reached toward the brightening sky. Graham’s first desire was to rifle through his luggage for his sketchbook, but he turned instead to the pale, slight man who stood grinning off to his left.

“Alan,” he said, turning and taking the hands of the other, “this is gorgeous. Not at all what I expected from a business trip. I can’t imagine the magazine is paying for this.”

Alan squeezed Graham’s knuckles, and his porcelain cheeks colored ever so slightly. “No,” he admitted. “Just something I wanted to do for you. I was coming here for the interview anyway, and since it’s kind of our anniversary—”

“Is it?”

His dark eyes sparkling, Alan nodded. “It was around this time last year that we started getting serious. Then it only took me another two months before I finally seduced you!”

Graham chuckled. It had taken years, and Alan, to get him past his deceased former partner. He’d be forever grateful to Alan for his patience and understanding. “I’m glad you persisted,” he said.

“And I’m glad you never completely lost your British accent,” Alan said, stepping nearer so that his belly bumped against Graham’s. “So sexy.”

Graham reached up and stroked Alan’s silky, dark hair. Alan had an intense, almost tortured beauty: aquiline nose, prominent cheeks, and smoldering, black eyes perpetually underscored with dark. He was too pale, too thin, often looked exhausted and sometimes almost mad, but his overall effect equaled fascinating and overwhelming appeal. Graham thanked the heavens their paths had crossed.

“I always think of Halloween as our anniversary,” Graham told Alan. “I think of what you did for me, summoning that spirit to save my tree, and the way we worked together to cast that spell and protect our home—”

“You accepted me,” Alan said, winding his arms around Graham’s waist and resting his check on Graham’s collarbone. “Accepted the magic—”

“Almost lost you, as I recall,” Graham said, holding Alan tight as the memory of his motionless body returned, “to that secret wizard society you’re always chasing.”

Wriggling free of Graham’s embrace, Alan said, “Anyway, this place is called the Amagi Inn. It’s kind of a hidden gem. I have the interview with Dr. Harada later this morning, but then the next three days are ours. There’s a natural hot spring here. And down in the village they’ll have the O-Bon Matsuri. That’s their festival for their ancestors’ spirits. I’ve heard it’s really beautiful. So we can just relax and celebrate our—

“— just have a good time, you know?”

“Our anniversary,” Graham corrected, earning a relieved and appreciative smile from his partner. “I love it; this was a wonderful idea. Thank you. I love you.”

Smiling, looking more serene than Graham was accustomed to, Alan turned and walked back into the elegant, simple room. Graham watched his slim hips sway beneath his dark jeans as he followed. Coming up behind Alan, Graham insinuated his arms beneath Alan’s and dug his fingers into Alan’s tee shirt at his collar. Alan’s hard little nipples pushed against the insides of Graham’s wrists as Graham inhaled the clean scent of his shoulder-length hair. He burrowed his nose into Alan’s ebony locks as his hands skimmed down his torso to dip beneath the hem of his shirt. Alan purred with pleasure as Graham’s fingers found the bare skin of his belly. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward Graham. Their lips brushed together. Alan’s mouth parted, inviting Graham’s tongue. Graham licked across his teeth while his fingers moved up the pronounced muscles of Alan’s stomach. Inside his pinstriped navy trousers, Graham’s cock sprung to attention.

He’d been exhausted after the long flight from America to Japan, the three-hour bus ride from Kyoto, and the half hour blindfolded in a taxi. Now, feeling Alan’s body tremble at his touch, Graham felt not only restored but energized with lust. Alan curled his spine to press his ass against Graham’s erection. Graham’s hand yanked at Alan’s hair, positioning Alan’s face so that he could drill his tongue into Alan’s mouth. He could see Alan naked, sprawled out over the tatami mats. As he explored Alan’s hot, moist palate, he could imagine how it would feel to straddle Alan’s face and thrust his cock into Alan’s eager throat.

“Can we?” Graham panted.

“Gods, yes,” Alan replied, grinding his tailbone against Graham’s root. “I want you.”

Popping the buttons of Alan’s fly, Graham found his cock tip and began thumbing it just as a foreign voice announced itself. Frustrated and disappointed, Graham replaced his lover’s clothing. “Yes?” he called.

The shoji screen parted and a young woman entered the room with a tray. She spoke a few words Graham didn’t understand and began arranging some plates on the table.

“We’re just in time for breakfast,” Alan said.

The girl finished setting their meal, bowed, and departed. The savory smell triggered a hunger Graham hadn’t known had been so intense. His last real meal had been almost a day before; the airline food was completely unpalatable. He followed Alan’s example and sat with his hips on his heels in front of the low table. Alan poured tea from the kettle, and ladled some miso soup into their bowls. “Do you want to wait to eat?” he asked, winking.

Graham shook his head. “I’m starving all of a sudden.”

Alan served rice with strips of seaweed on top, pieces of thin omelet, and what Graham assumed was some sort of pickled plum. Graham lifted his plate close to his chin and began eating. Everything tasted delicious.

“We’ll have to get walking soon,” Alan said. “Dr. Harada lives down past the village, near the river.”

“Why does such a distinguished scholar live in this tiny little town?” Graham asked, helping himself to more soup.

“He’s retired,” Alan answered.

“Then why interview him?”

“He’s written a fascinating account of Japanese history during the Age of Warring States. His theories are revolutionary.”

“How so?” Graham asked, his eyes narrowing.

Predictably, Alan winced and stayed quiet for a minute, choosing his words. “Dr. Harada has provided some very compelling evidence of supernatural influence on the politics of the time.”

“Not that secret society—”

“No, no,” Alan hurried to say. “This is nothing to do with them. I haven’t been digging into their activities at all, since—”

“They tried to kill you?”

“Right,” Alan conceded, staring into his tea.

“But why not interview Dr. Harada via e-mail,” Graham wondered aloud, “or even over the phone? Why come so far?”

The corners of Alan’s mouth turned down, and Graham silently cursed himself, hurrying to say, “Though I’m glad we did. It’s lovely. So exotic.” Alan continued looking miserable, so Graham added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

A few minutes later, the inn hostess announced herself, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She crouched to clear the plates away, smiling warmly at her patrons.

“The food was very good,” Graham said.

“Thank you,” she said in heavily-accented English. She placed their empty dishes on a tray and went to the hall. She returned with towels, brightly-printed yukata, a variety of soaps and lotions, and wooden geta sandals in a shallow crate. The daily paper lay curled beside, pictures of four high-school-aged youth on the front page. Graham couldn’t read the caption above them, so he turned his attention back to the innkeeper.

“Are there many guests at the inn?” Graham asked.

“No guests,” she answered. “Only you.”

“That’s unusual,” Alan said. “I’d understood that the Bon festival sees everyone returning to their family homes. I thought the inn would be packed!”

“People are probably just staying with their families,” Graham said. He couldn’t help fantasizing a little about the possibilities of empty baths and hot springs.

“Yes,” Their hostess said quickly. “Yes, thank you.” She set the things she’d brought on the floor, clasped her hands in front of her, bowed, and backed out of the room.

“Well,” Alan said, standing. “We’d better leave if we’re going to be on time to meet with Professor Harada.”

“It’ll be a beautiful walk,” Graham agreed, still hoping to make amends to Alan for his accidental ingratitude.

Alan said nothing, his back to Graham, as he loaded his laptop and some paper and supplies into his messenger bag. When he’d finished, he opened the screen door and stepped into the inn’s dark hall. Graham followed him, soon able to get his first view of the inn’s exterior. It was a fine traditional building of unadorned wood, single story and with a steep, gabled roof. The awning that stretched the building’s length had been decorated with paper lanterns to honor the upcoming holiday. Off to the left, Graham saw the maple trees from the garden near their room. A high fence blocked his view of the grounds to the right of the inn, but some rough, grey stone extended beyond it. The inn sat against a backdrop of mountain foliage dotted with rock. Some flowering bushes splashed color among the grey and green. It smelled pure and fresh.

“I wonder if there are any trails up there?” Graham asked, pointing.

“Probably,” Alan said. “We can ask. I think there’s a Buddhist temple further up the mountain, too. But, town should be interesting, and then on to the river and Dr. Harada.”

To Graham’s great relief, Alan reached out his hand. Graham clasped it, and they descended the long flight of rustic stone steps that led from the Amagi Inn to the little village of Inaba. Branches covered in thick, champagne colored blossoms brushed their arms and legs and showered their feet with petals as they passed.

It took them a little over an hour to reach the riverbank, mostly because interesting shops, architecture, and people in traditional dress distracted them. A few children splashed at the water’s edge, and speared twigs and sticks into the dark, wet soil. Further down, two old men fished. The boughs of the trees stretched out above the lazy, jade water, almost forming a tunnel over the river. It was shaded and pleasant; Graham would have loved to find a perch on one of the natural piers of rock, or on a fallen tree trunk, and do a bit of drawing. But, Alan continued purposefully on, finding a tiny trail that wound among the trees. Graham had to brush leaves and bracken out of his way to follow.

When Alan had told him that Professor Harada lived in a house by the river, Graham pictured something that at least vaguely resembled that statement. Instead his partner stopped at a dilapidated shack made from moldy, water-stained planks with moss growing on the roof. The rice paper covering the windows had been torn in many places and mended with masking tape, if at all. The forest reached right up to the porch, a section of which had collapsed and been propped up with a piece of a broken ladder. Around the muddy, fern-spotted patch that served as a lawn, a whole colony of tri-colored cats hid among shattered wooden buckets, rotting crates, pieces of pottery, and rusted bits of metal.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Graham asked.

“Definitely,” Alan said, going to a Western-style aluminum door that had been forced to fit where it shouldn’t. “Harada-sensei?” he called. Graham had already discerned that announcements like these replaced the door-knocking to which he was accustomed.

“Harada-san?” Alan continued. One of the many cats took a fancy to his ankle. “Alan Adale desu!”

An old man came to the threshold, wearing a faded blue yukata with lavender flowers over a pair of houndstooth dress slacks. His thin, ivory beard and moustache hung in wisps from his face. His hair, too, while full and shining, looked tangled and poorly kept.

“Ohayo,” he said, bowing. “Nihonsei wakarimasu-ka?”

“Skoshi,” Alan responded, “and not well.”

“Then it is good that I can speak English,” the man said, winking. “Welcome to my home.”

Graham followed Alan’s example and left his shoes in the little, mudded foyer before stepping into Professor Harada’s abode. No tatami mats covered his rough, wooden floor, and Graham felt dirt and grit on his soles as he followed his host to a table in the center of the home’s single room. The place smelled of old pipe smoke, cat, and stale air. Professor Harada indicated some threadbare mats and Graham sat on his haunches beside Alan. The elderly scholar sat opposite them and lifted an earthenware jug.

“Sake?” he offered.

Alan thanked him but Graham, noting the dusty cups set near the decanter, said, “A bit too early for me. Thanks just the same.”

Harada’s sharp, dark eyes flitted in Graham’s direction, and Graham had the feeling of being analyzed, assessed.

“Oh, forgive my rudeness!” Alan interjected. “Harada-sensei, this is my good friend and traveling companion, Graham Wise.”

Graham instinctively reached out his hand, and Harada humored him by jiggling his fingertips, though Graham felt sure he detected a condescending smile.

“Do you mind if we get right to work, Harada-san?” Alan asked, not waiting for permission to remove his computer, recorder, paper and pens from his bag.

“Of course not,” Harada said. “You honor me by coming all this way to speak about my work.”

As Harada and Alan began talking intently about the research involved in the book and the ancient manuscripts cited, Graham felt his attention waning, and he began to look around the small room. It contained little furniture aside from the table where they sat and a worn futon in the corner. Stacks of books reached almost to the ceiling in some places, and papers lay on every flat surface. Thumbtacks held still more notes to the wooden walls. Cats nested in rumpled piles of paper. At the opposite end of the room, a sink overflowed with dirty dishes, and an ancient rice cooker puffed steam. Next to it, kanji flashed across the screen of an outdated laptop.

Shuddering despite the cloying heat in the house, Graham was reminded of Alan’s apartment, on those occasions when he’d found his lover awake for days, surrounded in research notes. At least Alan would never be left alone to degenerate into this state. What had happened to this respected scholar that he ended up here?

“And so you truly believe that supernatural powers played a part in the outcome of these battles?” Alan asked, cutting Graham’s musings short. He understood now that Alan sought vindication. Alan’s research had led him to the belief that a shadow society of magic-users had been controlling most of the world’s affairs since the Dark Ages. From the way Alan clutched his pen in his fist, Graham could tell that he wanted confirmation of his theories.

“I do,” Harada said. “Take, for example, the Battle of Weeping Heaven, which happened near this very village.” He rifled through some papers on the floor and spread a map out before them. Pointing to a spot near the river, he said, “The Warlord known as Mitsurugi brought a force of two thousand warriors, leaving the local population outnumbered four to one. His victory seemed certain, but a monk who witnessed the fight wrote that a local man summoned a demon to aid the villagers in their struggle. He recounts the demon hovering over the warriors, calling up the dead from the ground. In spite of overwhelming odds, the Warlord was defeated on that night, and all of his men fell prey to the enchanted corpses. That man, with the demon still in thrall, went on to become a Warlord himself and win many battles. There are many other accounts of this creature summoning up corpses to fight for its master.”

Alan scribbled furiously, smiling. Graham, however, wasn’t convinced. “This is an old story,” he said to Harada. “People believed differently long ago. Isn’t it possible, probable even, that this account is tainted by superstition? That it belongs more to the realm of folklore than history?”

Holding up his finger, Harada said triumphantly, “There is proof! The battle site was excavated by a group of university students three years ago. Aside from the expected armor and weaponry, dozens of skeletons, hundreds of years older in some cases, were found among the remains of the warriors.”

“But couldn’t there be a more rational explanation?” Graham asked. Though he’d witnessed magic since meeting Alan, it made him uneasy; he didn’t want to believe forces beyond his understanding and control could influence his life.

Harada laughed, began coughing, and took a deep drink to ease his throat. He looked at Alan. “Some of us know,” he said. “Some of us have seen.”

The two men’s eyes met, leaving Graham feeling like he’d missed an inside joke, and he was not enjoying it. “Rubbish,” he said under his breath.

“Is it?” Harada replied. “Have you studied art?”

“Yes,” Graham said, even pricklier in the sweltering, filthy shack. “How did you know?”

“Tell me what you make of this.” The old man retrieved a poor copy of an ink drawing and handed it to Graham. “This is the monk’s depiction of the demon he saw on the battlefield.”

Graham looked at the picture. He’d taken art history courses as a student; he knew the usual Japanese depiction of their demons: fanged, cross-eyed monstrosities. This being, though, more closely resembled a beautiful samurai, a deity even. He had black hair that flowed to his ankles, white skin, and intricately-patterned robes. His black eyes slanted with mischievous knowledge, and his mouth turned up in what Graham could only call a seductive smile. Had it not been for his clawed hands and the two horns extending from the right side of his head, Graham would have said his portrait belonged in an Edo brothel rather than a monk’s battle memoirs.

“Perhaps this monk was simply lonely, and in possession of a good imagination,” Graham said, thrusting the copy back at Harada.

“Perhaps,” Harada said, shrugging and looking meaningfully at Alan again. “Perhaps not.”

“I must ask, Harada-sensei,” Alan said timorously, “what reaction your theories got from your colleagues?”

“You know that only too well, young man. My books are received as warmly as your own. It makes them no less true.”

“Why?” Alan asked. “Why can’t they accept it, no matter how much proof is provided?”

The old man hung his head. “People want to think they are the masters of their world. Woe to he who tells them otherwise. As you know.”

“But can we stop telling them?” Alan asked passionately. “If we know the truth, don’t we have an obligation at least to try?”

“Even if it gets you killed?” Graham asked, getting irritated.

“Yes!” Harada said, hitting the table with his fist, rattling the sake set and Alan’s machines. “I have sacrificed everything to know the truth! To see it with my own eyes, once, before I join my ancestors.”

“Alan has a lot to live for!” Graham interjected. He couldn’t help it; the idea of losing Alan the way he’d lost Luke weighed constantly on his mind. “He has people who depend on him.”

“I see,” Harada said, calmed. “I think you young men will be fine. There is much here in Inaba for you to enjoy during O-Bon. We have drumming and dancing in the town square, and all kinds of delicious food. You are young, and in love, if I’m not a fool. Go and be happy you are alive. There is beauty everywhere. I only warn you to be inside before dark. You are staying at the Amagi Inn, as I recommended?”

“Yes,” Graham said, a little ashamed of his outburst. “It’s quite lovely.”

“And safe,” Harada said. “Return to it by sundown. The hot spring baths are best then. Tell your American magazine this, in conclusion: I will continue to search for the truth as long as I am alive. And I will share what I know, and hope there are those who can see with clear eyes, unclouded by fear.”

“This demon exists,” Alan practically pleaded.

“Oh, yes,” Harada said. “Have no doubt.”

Footnotes To History by Jennifer Mueller

2010-10-11T21:01:00.001-07:00

Chapter One

The great hall of Castle Am Binnean was a huge room, with soaring stone walls and giant beams, each holding a huge wrought iron medieval chandelier. Giant fireplaces though were the focal point, no one could miss the holes in the walls large enough to stand in. The table was of an old style with the ends far across the room from one another. A few large stag horns soared high above their heads on the 20-foot walls. Several ancient tapestries covered the cold stone making the lead mullioned window set in the thick wall stand out even more. Ayda Sinclair stared at the hole appearing in the wall. The worker cursed as he dropped the chisel and hammer to grab a torch.

“I’m sorry Countess Ravensgard. It’s supposed to be eight feet thick, that’s what it was just there,” he apologized, pointing to the other channel he had chipped out earlier not a few feet away.

Half hidden in the mist stood the castle Am Binnean with only a nineteenth century bridge linking it to the rest of Scotland. Hovering ghostlike, the castle sat on an island where an ancient blockhouse had protected the bridge from being crossed, in addition to the castle battlements.

In far off times, it had been the proverbial drawbridge allowing access to a castle. They were chiseling channels to run wires for a new security system. Certain rooms had been turned into an art gallery with the oldest art and antiques housed within them. From the new exhibits came new attention from magazines and books that never cared before. With a distillery grand opening in mere days there would be more tourists coming for visits, not to mention Christmas a week later. The entire castle needed protection now.

“What’s behind it? The old kitchen? That’s about where we are,” Ayda asked as the man peered through with the torch.

“No, looks like stairs actually, My Lady. What I can see anyway.”

“Please not My Lady. It’s Ayda.”

“What’s this? I heard a crash.” A hand slipped along her waist and Ayda leaned back against her husband, Hunter. The future Duke of Cairnmuir was gorgeous to a fault, with dark blue eyes and thick brown hair streaked with blond. The sweater couldn’t hide his solid lean build, but it showed off the reddish brown tan of a man who spent a good deal of time outdoors, even if it was winter. In that, he and his brothers took the same description, and yet none looked alike. That he was all hers still surprised her.

“I swear, Sir, it’s supposed to be eight feet thick here. On the old exterior walls all along here it has been, but. . .”

Hunter started laughing. “No foul done. There’s still an old priest’s hole we’ve lost track of over the years, I doubt it’s the only place with all the building additions. Open it up then, if there’s something behind it.”

A few hard blows with the hammer and Hunter’s mother came quickly. Ayda always felt underdressed when Janet Sinclair, Duchess of Cairnmuir, was in the room. Even when she was just in the other room playing with her grandsons, she looked like she should be in a French society page and yet she was also the one who made Hunter, the former RAF pilot, take Scottish dance lessons as a child. A contradiction indeed. “What happened?”

“We seem to have found a mystery. Stairs going down,” Hunter replied.

The duchess walked closer, trying to see over the workman’s shoulder. “Is it another way into the dungeon? This is the oldest part of the castle.”

The workman shrugged his shoulders and then thought better of it. “No idea, Your Grace.”

“Wouldn’t it rather defeat the purpose of a dungeon to have another way in?” Ayda muttered.

“Besides Mother, the dungeon is under the tower over there,” Hunter added, pointing to the opposite corner of the room. There weren’t many records of people being thrown there, but the gated hole still had a lock just in case.

The duchess smiled. “I’m impatient, I know. I wonder if it was put in when the French Comtess married into the family.”

When Ayda had arrived at the castle four years earlier, it was to work on the art collection for one summer to finish up her doctoral thesis. Before the summer was up, she and Hunter were sharing a bed, but he had offered her the permanent job taking care of the collection, too. He was even willing to put aside bed, if that was what it took to keep her there. She’d been smart enough to listen that she could have both, a man fast falling in love with her and a job most dream of.

The castle history had never really been put down before, other than vague details—trying to get her paper finished, they started telling her stories they knew. It was the only way to hear the past with the holes in the bits written down, there were dates enough but the stories gave the castle life. Old stories told by the cooks around the kitchen table on cold Scottish winter nights. Those were a bawdy lot. All the clan books had been changed with her digging into the past anew. Only rumors had remained from those early days of good marriages among people, but what people, how well—those questions could not be answered.

“Hunter, help the man,” the duchess ordered.

“Aye, Mother.”

“Ayda, don’t you want a torch?” The duchess was asking when a huge dark gaping hole filled the wall before Ayda.

Ayda came back from her thoughts. “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Hunter only shook his head as his impeccably dressed mother went first down the ancient stairs. Cobwebs everywhere, dust from centuries covering each step. The cleared opening was only two feet wide and six feet tall, Hunter had to duck his head to descend. There was no chance the opening would fall though, the way was covered in stonework. Someone had spent a good deal of time preparing it. That, right there, seemed to rule out being part of the dungeon, a room little more than dug in the very stone that made up the island she lived on now. But there at the bottom of the stairs she stared at another room dug into the very rock almost as large as the old kitchen that was now her workroom. At least what she could make out with just dim torches. It wasn’t a small room and the light vanished into the gloom.

“When do you think it dates from?” the duchess asked.

“Another mystery for you to solve, Ayda. I better get used to you hiding on me again,” Hunter joked.

Ayda wanted to shove him or something, but there was too much to see. “Very funny. If you Sinclairs would just keep better records, there wouldn’t be any for me to solve. How a family doesn’t know there is a Titian hiding in a storeroom I’ll never understand. Or that there was a Viking Princess in the family?”

“At least we knew about the ghost or you might have run off before you ever got me in bed.”

Ayda stuck her tongue out. He never let her stick her tongue out unless she was prepared to use it. With his mother there it was a taunt—he couldn’t do anything about it. “You never did say when you thought it might be from. You’re the one keeping track for restoration purposes.”

He was silent for some time just looking around. The walls were finished, but some of the mortar lay about on the ground where it had fallen onto the flagstone floors.

“The only thing I know for sure is that it’s not on any plans I’ve ever seen.”

“Which means?”

“Ye ken it’s bluidy auld.”

Hunter could turn the accent on and off at will. He always sounded Scots with a burr to his voice that could seduce her even reading the newspaper, just not always like a highlands hermit. “Cute. You can tell me the entire history of the construction of this castle from memory; I really don’t think you overlooked something like a room.”

“There is that priest’s hole we lost. Ciaran and I have been looking for it since we were kids.” Hunter was distracted as he said it, his flashlight aimed at the ceiling.

Ayda couldn’t stop from grinning. “Probably some story made up to keep you busy and out of their hair.”

“Well maybe.” Hunter let a smile grow. “I was known to be a stinker when I was a bairn.”

“A stinker? You were a terror.” The duchess threw out, her laugh echoing in the stone cavern of a room. “I keep waiting for the day Brendan starts up acting like you.”

“Act like me?” Hunter didn’t laugh even though his mother had meant it as a joke.

Hunter and his siblings were all packed off to the castle to be raised by Grandma and Grandpa. Ayda had been with the family for some time before she realized that the duke and duchess lived in London, only visiting the castle when forced. Their jetsetter lifestyle was not carried out well in the highlands of Scotland. The family’s dirty little secret was that Hunter’s parents were too busy to raise their own kids, even with a governess in the house to do the work. Even now they were only in the castle for the grand opening of the distillery that Hunter had worked his arse off to get going over the last four years and Christmas a week later.

“I know all the tricks and how to stop him, he won’t have to make the same mistakes.”

Ayda only shook her head. “What mistakes are those?”

“That’s for a father to teach a son, not for a wife to hear.”

The duchess’s light caught something shiny. “Wait, move back there just a bit,” Ayda ordered. Three lights soon shown as one, illuminating a long shelf filled with strange contraptions along one wall. Bronze perhaps, cogs, wood.

“This is older than the French chapel built in the 1400’s. It’s not from the later construction either,” Hunter whispered.

“Then you know what these are?” the duchess asked.

Hunter shook his head and the duchess turned to Ayda.

“No, no clue.” Ayda muttered before she could ask the question as she barely touched one bronze looking machine with a small ball on top of it.

“How do you know then, Hunter?” the duchess asked.

“Just the look of the work seems older. The new work was finished smoother, the older section rougher. The construction is different on the Viking tower too. You can tell almost every addition by differences in the stone work.”

“Here we are. This should help,” the workman announced as he appeared behind them.

A work light and extension cord soon removed the gloom, but it still wasn’t easy to see every corner. A simple bed was near the far end of the room where a large fireplace stood. Other than a set of shelves and a chair, there was little furniture in the large room.

Hanging on the wall was a small embroidery panel, hand wrought in the style of the Bayeux tapestry. Only two feet square perhaps, but in such detail that she could see individual men dying. There were no names or dates, just one word, Acre. Ayda touched the panel carefully and found it was remarkably preserved.

Hunter stuck his head to look up the fireplace. “How can I see light? We should be under three floors of castle.”

“What on earth did you find?” David Sinclair asked, bringing up the rear.

The duke looked like John Forsythe. Hunter took after his grandfather more than his parents. Military man, outdoorsman, hunter, world traveler, there were pictures of Hunter’s grandfather Broderick, the man his brother was named for, hunting with Indian Rajas before World War II.

David was the jet setter, a partier looking for dinner with the rich and famous, certainly not the military. The duke was a good-looking man, but if he was the one Ayda’s age and around when she had arrived, nothing ever would have happened. Hunter alone could make her give up her life’s plans.

Now she worked on the castle’s art collection, taught a few art classes in the village, played with Brendan. Once or twice a year she helped Jerry Hutchins with a class or two on difficult conservations. Am Binnean castle, if nothing else, certainly had its share of projects.

It was the perfect life. All the work she wanted and all the free time to enjoy it.

The tables were filled with…what? Vials? Flasks? It was hard to tell under all the dust. Fabric by the look of a pile on one table. The duchess picked up a piece and it crumbled to dust.

“It’s a laboratory.” Ayda finally said. “But from when?”

“Is that a trebuchet model?” The duke asked pointing to another little contraption.

Ayda couldn’t stop staring with vague thoughts that she had seen some of them before in books. They were ancient no matter what they were.

“I’ll go get my camera and call Jerry to get us a textile conservator. I don’t want that panel damaged trying to move it.” Ayda looked around at a sight she never thought she would see. This was history frozen in time. Centuries unaffected, except by dust and cobwebs. “I’ve heard how your ancestors paid to build the castle, but before World War II so many houses were sold off because there was no money to keep them up. There’s North Sea oil money now, but what about then?”

Hunter leaned near her ear. “My great-grandmother, Marjorie of the clan Ross, inherited a chemical factory fortune and she wanted a title. There was talk she was relentless in pursuing poor great-grandfather, the only unmarried duke at the time. If there was an impoverished Prince lying around, she would have changed alliances at the drop of a hat. Money isn’t the only thing that can make you mercenary.”

Ayda stopped by the library on the way to find her camera, a two-story room of mahogany paneling surrounded her, shelves from floor to ceiling, while a railed walkway gave access to the second floor books. The shelves were filled with rare and old classics of Scottish history and law, many in ancient leather bindings.

A huge carved Renaissance mantle surrounded the fireplace. She had first seen the ghost there, as well as the painting of Marjorie Ross hanging over the renaissance era fireplace, an ethereal painting from the beginning of the 1900’s. The past of that picture didn’t seem so romantic any longer. A title whore and her son married an American commoner without a penny who had been a spy during World War II. Divine justice perhaps.

****

While everyone sat at breakfast, her nephew Duncan suddenly let out a screech, and knocked over his chair as he ran for the doorway. A red head if there ever was one, at almost eight it seemed to grow darker red with every year that passed.

“Da!” He cried as he was picked up by a well-built man and hugged tightly. Tall and lanky, Duncan was dwarfed by his father, Lorne.

Duncan was sent off to be raised at the castle too, but not out of “couldn’t be bothered”. When Alice ran off leaving their nine-month-old son behind with Lorne, there was no one to raise him. Lorne had been commissioned as an officer only a few months before and in a commando unit of the Royal Marines. The government wouldn’t be too sympathetic to a duke’s son getting out of anything because he had yet to marry the woman he knocked up.

Not that it would have changed anything, she still would have run, it just would have made it harder to sever ties. Despite Hunter all but raising him, Lorne had transferred to a unit headquartered in Scotland and he was home as often as he could make it, even if he had been overseas. Certainly more often than the duke and duchess saw their children growing up. Ayda gave her own three-year-old son, Brendan, an extra kiss on the top of his curly mop of black hair thinking about it. Hunter never let his nephew feel like he was put away while the parents played.

“Lorne you didn’t tell us you were coming home,” the duchess cried.

Grinning at his mother, he had a smile that Ayda swore made the rough and tumble Marine Commando look thirteen. “I didn’t know I needed permission to come home.”

Lorne was the youngest of Hunter’s three brothers. Broderick had married some months after Ayda had come to the house. He was in Australia for the moment, studying Marine Biology after leaving the Navy. While military was a common if not expected interest for work in the family, living on an island also fostered other interests, such as the sea. Their sister, Gemma, had married Jack MacGregor and settled in Edinburgh with several children even before Ayda knew the family. The wild child of the family had surprised everyone when she settled down with the Honorable Jack MacGregor. No one would have thought him enough of a partier for her taste.

“You don’t…” the duchess got out before she realized he was teasing. “Oh stop, Lorne.”

“How long are you here for?” the duke asked before Lorne could answer.

Lorne shook his head. “Fine welcome I get. No one even remembered that my commitment is up. Duncan, you’ll have to put up with me full time now.”

The yell Duncan let out kept the room from answering as he hugged his father again.

Hunter did however reach down by his chair and hold something out as his brother walked by. Lorne took the bottle from his hand and let out a low whistle. “Not everyone forgot little brother. Bottle of the best year the distillery has, can’t celebrate proper without some first class booze. And you get to put that stinker in the bath now and have him push you in. I wash my hands of the task.”

Lorne messed Duncan’s hair as he sat down with the boy in his lap. “I thought I told you to stop doing that.” Duncan only laughed. “So what is this room, some secret dungeon?”

“We don’t really know. It looks like a laboratory, to tell the truth. Someone must have lived down there as well, there’s a bed. I haven’t studied it too close, there is an embroidered panel, but it only says Acre.”

Hunter and Lorne both smiled. “Crusades,” they answered in unison. Military school came in useful sometimes.

Ayda narrowed her eyes. “Yes, but is it commemorating when Acre was taken by the crusaders, when it was taken by the Moslems, or any of the 200 years in between?” So did a doctorate in Art.

“You married a smart woman there, Hunter,” Lorne answered as he filled his plate.

“I have a textile conservator coming soon. I want it stabilized before I even touch it, before I even clean.”

“Well then Duncan, let me get my things put up, and we’ll go on an expedition to the secret room.”