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An Excerpt From: HALF WILD
Copyright © RHYANNON BYRD AND MADISON
HAYES, 2008
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
“Four?” Sam
blurted out. “Your name is Four?”
He turned and
gave Sam a sharp, penetrating stare. “My name is Kar’four but Four will do.
This is my brother, Kar’two.”
“Deuce,” his
twin corrected him.
Kar’four’s gaze
deepened as it roved down her body again, before slowly returning to her
eyes. “You’re women, aren’t you? Real ones.”
Sam tried to
stifle her surprised snort. “These two are really quick,” she muttered from
the side of her mouth.
Jerri jabbed her
in the ribs as she continued to smile determinedly up at Deuce. “I wasn’t
going for brains when I picked mine,” she warned tightly. “I’m Jerri,” she
said, nodding encouragingly as she introduced herself. “And this is my
friend, Sam.”
Kar’four
continued to stare down at Sam. “They’re women, Deuce.”
Without actually
removing his eyes from Jerri’s face, the one named Deuce cut his companion
a condescending smile. “I got that part figured out, Four. But what’s
amazing is that they look like real women.”
Four snorted. “And
what do you know of what real women look like?”
Deuce’s smile
flashed wider, wicked and white within the deep tan of his face. “There’s
no way in hell breasts like those could be fake,” he laughed
gruffly, dropping his gaze to Jerri’s firm mounds, her nipples pressing
against the thin fabric of her shirt in sharp little points that seemed to
demand his immediate attention.
“Yeah, real
breasts,” Four rasped, his voice sounding a bit huskier than before. “I
never imagined they could look like that, though,” he added, staring
hungrily at Sam’s abundant chest.
Deuce snorted. “You
knew they’d be better on a real woman.”
“Yes but I didn’t
expect them to be so different from the Synnies.”
“Before I ask
what the hell a Synnie is,” Sam mumbled, cutting their strange conversation
short as she took Four’s hand and began dragging him along behind her, “we
need to get you two outta here, just like Jerri
said. You’re attracting too much attention,” she muttered, glaring at the
same leggy blonde in spiked heels who had just been in their stall. The
woman had stopped a few feet away, her big blue eyes burning with sexual
interest at the two duster-clothed males.
Jerri grabbed
Deuce’s hand and pulled him along after Sam and Four. She expected to see
his mouth hanging open with rampant lust as they passed the blonde beauty
queen but when she turned, his expression was clearly dispassionate.
Strangely, he didn’t even seem to notice the woman.
They reached the
long row of opulent elevators and quickly pulled the men into an opening
door, then Sam hit the close button before anyone
else could enter. They had a long ride ahead of them, since their rooms
were on the 160th floor and
the elevator traveled at a leisurely pace, the high definition screens on
the insides of the doors regaling them with a steady stream of suggestions
as to how they should spend their money in New Las Vegas.
Studying the
dark beauty standing at her side, Jerri’s eyes lingered on his mysterious
silver mask, then flicked to the wide curve of his
mouth for a brief moment before settling back on his warm gaze. “You didn’t
even spare a glance for the blonde back there. Didn’t you think she was
beautiful?” she questioned.
His mouth
twisted. “She looks like a Synnie. I bet she even squeaks.”
“What exactly
does a Synnie look like?” she asked, wondering if that was the name applied
to women from their country…wherever their country was. They clearly weren’t
from around there.
And she wasn’t
even touching the “squeaking” comment. Ick.
“Tall, blonde,
reed thin with bright white teeth and plastic faces.” He sighed, seeming
bored with the idea.
Both women
laughed softly. “Well,” Jerri said, smiling wryly, “no one can accuse us
of looking like Barbie dolls.”
“Women,” the man
beside Sam said. “You look like women.” The word seemed to roll off
his tongue like a sumptuous treat, something meant to be savored slowly and
sweetly with thorough satisfaction. “Like something out of a Titian or a
Botticelli.”
Sam arched her
brow at his knowledge of the old masters but before she could comment,
Deuce lowered his face to the curve of Jerri’s throat and sniffed loudly,
murmuring, “And you don’t smell.”
His voice came
in a low, rough rumble of sound that stroked down Jerri’s spine like a
sweet, meandering drop of warm oil, while Sam snickered softly.
The pure
evocative huskiness of that male voice, with its odd cadence, made Jerri
feel sticky and warm, her cheeks flushed while something down deep inside
her seemed to melt and ease. It was a strange, somehow new feeling of discovery,
of awakening, though she was hardly a virgin. No, she’d known men but then
something told her that she’d never known anyone like this magnificent male
standing before her. He was, quite simply, out of this world. “Um…it’s nice
of you to notice. But what is it exactly that I don’t smell like?”
“Like our women,”
he muttered, still rubbing his nose beneath her ear, breathing in long,
deep breaths of her. “Like a Synnie.”
Her nose
scrunched as she shot a wondering look at Sam, who stared at the two of
them with a small grin curving her wide mouth. “I should be afraid to ask,
but exactly what do your women smell like?”
“‘Cross between
latex and hydraulic fluid.”
“Ew.” She laughed, while Sam murmured, “Charming.”
“You’re softer
too,” Four rasped, lifting his hand to rub the back of his knuckles across
the curve of Sam’s cheekbone, then trailing his dark hand over her jaw,
down the white line of her throat. “Softer than the priceless silks of
Pantrark.”
“Yeah.” Deuce
laughed softly, a low, provocative breath of sound that stroked against the
fluttering pulse at the base of Jerri’s throat. “I bet they don’t even
squeak when you ride them.”
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