Ellora's Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis IV

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Excerpts From: ELLORA’S CAVEMEN: DREAMS OF THE OASIS IV

GETTING SLAYED

Still a virgin.

Was I destined to remain a virgin for the rest of my pathetic, royal life?

I entered the grand ballroom and ran a finger over the backs of the plush velvet chairs that lined the banquet table. The chamber was bedecked in its finest. Satin and brocade draped the walls, upon which flickered shadows cast by the guttering candles in the sconces and taper holders. The long banquet table had been set with china and crystal, ready to receive Cook’s mouth-watering feast.

But the chamber would remain empty of guests.

Just as my chastity belt would remain locked and my body would remain untouched.

I flicked one of my royal fingernails against the rim of a crystal goblet and heard the ring echo through the chamber. Then I pulled out a chair and collapsed into it with an expulsion of breath. My locked chain mail smallclothes—my chastity belt—chafed my skin and made me wince. It was lined with silk, but it was still uncomfortable.

“Jeweline, cease your dramatics,” said my father, the king, as he bustled into the chamber. His ermine robes swirled around him as he made dramatic hand motions, revealing from which parent I’d contracted my love for hyperbole. ”We’ll find you a new husband, one who hasn’t been charbroiled by dragon’s breath.”

My intended, Prince Albert Von Dinkenburger, had been traveling to the castle this very day to wed me, but along the way a fierce dragon had attacked his entourage, scooped Albert up and flown him away on gossamer wings. We didn’t really know if he’d been charbroiled or not, but the odds weren’t in poor Dinky’s favor.

“He was the seventh one, Daddy!” I yelled. “Someone needs to take care of that dragon! Where are your slayers?”

“Uh, pumpkin, they’ve all been charbroiled.”

I hid my face in my hands and fought the tears rising in my throat.

“Anyway, Prince Dinkenburger always did smell a little funny,” continued my father. “Perhaps you should count your blessings.”

“But he was the last one!” I wailed from the sanctuary of my hands. The truth of that forced me to give in to my tears.

Yes, he had smelled a bit strange, a little like burnt onions and ripe oranges, but he’d held the key to my chastity belt! I was a twenty-five year old virgin.

If I didn’t get laid soon, my sex would shrivel up.

If I didn’t get laid soon, I’d go insane.

STING OF THE WIND

“Sometimes I wish I was still human,” he said.

“Not me,” Shae said and leaned over to kiss Shannon. He swung his long muscular legs from the bed and stood, reaching for his black silk robe. Knotting it securely around his waist, he padded barefoot to the door. “Coming, Cossack?”

“If I were, you’d know it,” Alexi mumbled. He, too, bent over to kiss Shannon then reluctantly left the bed. Since he’d arrived in the bedchamber without clothing, he left in the same condition.

Shannon pushed up on her elbows and watched the handsome men leave the room. She smiled then lay back down and curled up in a fetal position, the pillow clutched in her arms. Though tired from the marathon lovemaking session, it was a pleasing tired and she fell easily asleep even before Shae and Alexi entered the private elevator that would take them down the thirty-five floors to the subterranean room where they would spend the day.

“What do you think of our lady?” Shae asked as the elevator descended.

“For once you did not exaggerate, Celt. She is as beautiful as you promised,” Alexi replied. “And as hot.”

The elevator stopped its long descent and the thick bronze doors slid open to reveal another set of doors that could only be opened from a palm imprint panel. Shae placed his hand on the panel, a green glow appeared briefly, and the doors opened quietly. “After you.”

Alexi nodded and walked through the doorway.

The belowground room that stretched out before them was dark as the tomb with no light visible in its depths, but the vampires needed no light for their eyesight could pierce even the most ebon of vistas. Bidding one another good day, they separated, each going to the specially built coffins that held the soil from their native lands.

Shae opened the lid of his sleeping place, glancing about him at the scores of similar caskets that were lined up in the huge room. He smiled as he climbed into his silk-lined bed. If the humans scuttling above them were to learn of this chamber, there would be mass panic in the streets of Atlanta and repercussions all over the Earth.

His eyelids heavy with the approach of the morning sun, he closed them and lay there for a brief moment before his breathing ceased, his heart stopped and the eternal darkness claimed him.

TEMPERATURE RISING

“Surf’s up, pretty mamma.”

Breanna held onto the doorframe, trying hard to hold back her laughter. Danner was crazy. The proof was right in front of her, in living color. In one hand, he held a blue turtle embossed kiddy pool and in the other, he held a bag of ice. Dressed up like a lifeguard, he wore red swim trunks and a white blotch of sunscreen on his nose. Definitely too cute for words.

If the heat didn’t give her a migraine, she was definitely going to get one from laughing too hard.

“Baywatch recasting?” she teased, shaking her head.

“No, I’ve got the cure to your migraine blues.”

Hell, he had the cure to all that ailed her. He just didn’t know it.

Danner had always been attractive to her, even at the tender age of six. With his bright blue eyes and dark brown wavy hair, Danner had epitomized the legacy of Sir Lancelot to her. In her youth, Breanna had likened him to the medieval heroes from her romance books, and there he’d stayed.

Either the heat was getting to her or he was, because Breanna couldn’t tear her eyes away from his body. His bare chest and low-riding swim trunks were playing havoc on her senses and forcing an entirely different heat to scorch her body. “Which would be?”

“Your own personal pool and lifeguard, of course.”

Of course. Breanna watched Danner, amused. He was just too much. Breanna stepped back and allowed him to enter. She didn’t know what the heck he thought he was doing, but as usual she was willing to follow his lead. “Where did you get the pool?”

“Mrs. Charleston from three doors down let me borrow it. Now you can kick back and relax while I keep the sharks at bay.”

It was a good idea, but it was never going to work. “It’s too hot to go outside, Danner.”

“We’re not going outside, short stuff, we’re going to vacation inside.”

We, Breanna liked the sound of ‘we’ on his lips. Leaning her back against the door, Breanna smiled indulgently. “And where are we going to put it?”

Danner frowned as he looked around, until his eyes lit on the living room. “In here should do.”

“Wayne will kill us if we soak his carpet.”

“That’s why you’re going to line the floor with quilts and towels before we fill it.”

“You’ve thought of everything.”

“I try. Now you run upstairs and get the quilts and I’ll go get the other stuff from my condo.”

“What stuff?”

“It’s a surprise, short stuff, now go. We got less than a half hour before they shut us down. We need to get this place cooled off before then.”

Still Breanna was rooted to the floor with surprise. “I can’t believe you did all this.”

VIRTUOSITY

Dillon had turned to leave the captain’s conference room when a voice sounded low and warm over her shoulder.

“Trying to give me the cushy job, are you?”

Dillon turned her head to smile at her husband. “You got me. Are you going to complain?”

Roger’s voice was pitched lower as they waited for the Lift doors to open. “Not at all. You do realize, though, that this cakewalk will leave me with all kinds of energy tonight, don’t you?”

Dillon’s stomach suddenly spiraled with somersaults and a rush of heat flooded her belly. Just the idea of sex with Roger made her immediately want him inside her. Suddenly feeling more than a little naughty, she laughed softly. “Want to get naked? Is that what you’re talking about?”

Roger’s answering cocky grin told Dillon everything she needed to know, but as the Lift doors closed, he leaned closer to her and whispered quietly in her ear. “I want to make you come over and over. You make me crazy, Dillon. I love you.”

Dillon exhaled softly as a thrill washed over her. “You make me crazy, too. I love you more than anything, Roger. And I’ll tell you something—I won’t be the only one coming over and over tonight.”

Roger’s sharp intake of breath said it all.

The first sign of trouble had come when Dillon’s team had teleported to the planet’s surface. Dillon stared at the source of the power fluctuations, a growing fear putting a lump in her belly.

“Captain!” Dillon shouted. “This isn’t right!”

Captain Egiet appeared beside her. “What is it, Commander?”

Dillon pointed to the small black metal device sitting atop the rocky outcropping. “Something’s wrong, Captain. It looks like an old emergency homing beacon, but look at the smaller piece attached to the right side of the cube. It’s not supposed to be there.” She pointed her remote sensor at the device, giving the object another scan.

The captain frowned. “It looks almost like a scanner. Why would someone attach a scanning device to a homing beacon? And why were we getting other readings on board ship?”

Suddenly Dillon’s fingers were icy-cold, despite the planet’s humid atmosphere. The data on her viewscreen didn’t make sense. A thought clicked into her head, and with a frightened rush of breath she said, “Unless it’s not a homing beacon at all.” She paused, the hair on the back of her neck rising. “The other landing coordinates. Where are they?”

Lieutenant Kyra Vale pointed beyond the dimly glowing object. “The other team landed over there. The same direction that device is pointing…” Her words trailed off and she quickly pushed a button on her wrist communicator. “Kyra to Roger. Come in.”

“Nelson here. What is it, Kyra?”

Dillon shuddered visibly with relief at the sound of Roger’s voice. She pushed the button on her own communicator.

“It’s Dillon, Roger. Something is very wrong. I think you need to get out of there. This device isn’t a homing beacon, like we originally thought. We—” Her words were cut off by the sound of an explosion. Dillon’s stomach rose into her throat as the unmistakable shriek of Korgon weapons firing reverberated through the air. She screamed into her communicator.

“It’s a trap, Roger! All of you! Get out! It’s a trap!”

There was no response.

SHADOWS STIR

“Warriors!” His voice rang out, reaching thought the shadows, pulling his men toward him. He could hear them stirring, answering the call, fighting the darkness within them. For a moment, he closed his eyes, grief-stricken at what he had allowed to befall them all. But when he opened them again, all sign of grief and doubt were gone, replaced by a steely look of determination. Eyes, dark and black, that saw right though every man and straight to his very soul.

Only a dozen had answered. So be it. There were dozens more out there and he would search them out and haul them back, kicking and screaming if necessary. But for now, he would start with these men in front of him. His deep, fathomless eyes skimmed over them one at a time. No detail was too small or insignificant for him. One never knew where the key to salvation might lie.

All tall, all strong, all warriors. From different periods of time, from different cultures and countries, they had formed a brotherhood all their own. Bound by their word and their bond to one another, they stood shoulder to shoulder, their faces impassive as they waited for him to speak, to command them.

“There is a woman.” Those four small words created a stir among them. He could sense their interest growing. None of them had had a woman in centuries. Lust and need would grow among them as the craving for a woman became sharper. Indeed, he was counting on it.

“She must be protected at all costs.” He paused, pleased when they all moved closer to him. A tiny candle sprang to life in the center of the table. Its light barely cut through the smothering darkness, but it was a start. If more were to be lit, it had to come from within them. Only with their hearts and spirits could they drive back the all-encompassing shadows.

“Why?” The voice startled him. It had been a long, long time since any of them had spoken. One warrior detached himself from the group and stepped forward, crossing his arms over his massive chest as he stood with his legs braced apart. The Shadow Lord almost smiled. He’d known that Gideon would respond to the challenge.

“She will bear a child who will be the salvation of mankind.” He stepped toward Gideon and was pleased when his warrior stood his ground. “And now she has flung herself heedlessly into danger.” As he sauntered closer to Gideon, the other men moved back slightly. “It is your job to protect her.”

Gideon nodded immediately, his hand going to his heart. It was both a pledge and a salute. The Shadow Lord gave silent thanks to the loyalty that still bound his men to him. It was one of the few things that could save them. He reached his hand out to Gideon, wrapping his hand around the warrior’s forearm. His arm was immediately clasped in return.

Drawing Gideon toward the head of the table, he motioned to the others to follow. “There is much you need to know…”

PASSIONFLOWER

She wasn’t looking for anything more than just a little interesting conversation, but so far tonight the only banter she’d exchanged centered on what dressing she wanted for her salad. But she would stay in her seat for another few minutes. Contemplating the attached entrance to the club, she considered moving her glass of wine from the restaurant to a table inside Secrets. Building a reputation around the booths lining the walls, the owners draped each one in sound-deadening curtains that could be pulled to enclose the booth in its own little world. Then they’d taken a version of Las Vegas’ motto and made it their own. “What is said at Secrets…stays at Secrets.”

Nancy was sure conversation wasn’t the only thing concealed by the heavy fabric. She knew she wasn’t ready to sit at a small table…sans draperies…and open herself to sure rejection when no one asked her to dance. Or to shrug nonchalantly and leave when no one sat with her to have a non-secret conversation.

Hearing a whisper of sound as others in the restaurant broke into hushed conversations, she glanced up to see what caused this group of thirty-somethings to twitter—a local celebrity in their midst?

Noticing all eyes seemed to be on the front entrance, she turned to follow their lead and did a double take. Holy cow! The man standing in the door of the restaurant was huge. Giant huge. Massive huge. Big.

The gorgeous specimen of masculinity had to be well over six feet tall with the body of a pro wrestler. Gaping at the sight of muscles bulging in magnificent splendor, she had a very primitive reaction to the vision of his turquoise tank top stretched taut across an immense chest. Wow! The color was a perfect counterpoint to his long, straight, blond hair and caramel-colored body. His biceps looked like tree trunks. Large rippling tree trunks. His waist was slim and she didn’t have to strain her eyesight to see monumental legs molded in tight jeans, leaving little room for conjecture on his sizable assets. Oh, baby!

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Watching closely as he scanned the room, she was disappointed to discover she was too far away to see the color of his eyes. Able to observe the intensity and concentration in his gaze, she realized he was looking for something or someone specific.

The man couldn’t be described as handsome—he was too rugged for such a soft word. The darker blond slash of eyebrows over seeking eyes set off a face that had been chiseled, not carefully sculpted out of flesh. His cheekbones were high, his nose large and slightly hooked, and his square jaw showed a bare hint of beard shadow. No, she would use words like compelling, raw, or…well, dangerous to catalogue him. Bad to the bone.

CLOSE WINDOW