|
An Excerpt From: Ellora’s
Cavemen: Tales from the Temple
II
© Copyright Tielle St. Clare, Patrice
Michelle, J.C. Wilder, R. Casteel, Alicia Sparks, Angela Knight, 2004.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's
Cave, Inc.
BY MOON RISE
Tielle St. Clare
Chapter
1
“We’re what?”
Caitlin didn’t flinch at her boss’s outburst. After three years she
knew Luc’s temper flared hot but burned out quickly. She also knew his
anger wasn’t directed at her. She was just the messenger.
“Quarantined,” she repeated with polite patience. Since the SARS
outbreaks a few years before, world health organizations took immediate
precautions when new viruses appeared. “The entire hotel is locked down for
forty-eight hours. The virus takes twenty-four hours to incubate. We’ll all
be tested and if we’re fine and showing no symptoms, we can leave.”
“They can’t just keep us here.”
“Yes, they can. Ninety percent of the people who contract this
disease die within three days. It’s got everyone in a panic and since the
last two cases have connections to this hotel, they’ve quarantined the
whole building. Only health officials will be allowed in and they’ll be in
protective suits.”
Luc dragged five fingers through his long black hair and spun away.
His long legs carried him across the suite at a furious pace before he
whipped around and came back.
“We have to go north.” The bright glitter of his blue eyes warned of
the ragged emotions humming through him.
Caitlin could understand his concern. His future wife was waiting
for him. The bonding ceremony was only three days away.
“Don’t worry. I put extra time in our schedule to deal with any
delays. We’ll make it on time.”
“You don’t understand. We can’t stay.”
“We don’t have a choice,” she countered. She knew he didn’t like to
be confined, but the suite they occupied gave them plenty of room—enough
for some privacy and a little freedom. “And don’t worry. It’s a simple
blood test to determine the existence of the virus. They won’t notice
anything different in your blood,” she said in case that was his concern.
“We can’t stay,” he repeated. Something in his tone alerted Caitlin.
He wasn’t joking or complaining. He was dead serious. There had to be a
reason. She waited. Finally Luc sighed. “Tomorrow night is the full moon.”
Caitlin’s stomach fell away. A full moon was the one time when
werewolves couldn’t control their change. That meant that sometime tomorrow
night, Luc, third in charge of the Northern Pack, would sprout fur and grow
very large teeth.
“I have to sneak out.”
Caitlin shook her head. “They have guards posted around the
building. They are really panicked about this latest outbreak.” She bit her
lip and began her own wandering around the room. “And they have your
information. If you were able to get out, they’d come after you, and that
could lead them to the Pack.” Pack security was always the first priority.
“Either I make a run for it or we’re going to be explaining how a
wolf got loose inside an urban hotel.” He rubbed his forehead. She could
almost see the tension headache forming. “God knows what kind of damage
he’ll cause in a place like this.”
Caitlin knew from talking with pack members that they had only vague
memories of their times as a wolf. The passion and energy of the animal
remained, but specifics were hazy.
“Isn’t there a way to stop the change? Or delay it?”
Luc shook his head. “No. The moon controls it.” He sighed. “And that
means by moon rise tomorrow night, I’ll be a full wolf.”
Their paths intersected in the middle of the suite. She stared up at
him, noting again the sheer masculine beauty—the long black hair flowing to
his shoulders, the intriguing angles and shadows of his cheekbones and
strong jaw, but it was his eyes that called to her. Eyes troubled and
looking to her for answers.
“Call Fallon,” Caitlin suggested. “Since becoming the Alpha he seems
to have answers for everything.”
Luc smiled grimly and agreed. “He does seem to have bits of arcane
knowledge that he doesn’t see fit to share with the rest of us until the
precise moment we need it.” Luc flipped open his phone and dialed the direct line to the head of the wolf pack.
Not wanting to eavesdrop on the conversation but knowing she might
be needed, Caitlin lingered nearby as Luc went through the ritualized
greeting of the wolves.
Then, Luc reported their situation. “So, is there anything that can
stop a full-moon change?” He waited. Confusion crinkled the corners of his
eyes. He looked over at her. “Uh, I don’t think that’s going to work,” he
said, his voice dropping. “I’m with Caitlin. I’m just not sure she’s ready
for that.”
Caitlin straightened, pulling her shoulders back and extending to
her full five-foot-six. Though not a werewolf herself, the Pack had become
her family as well as her employer. She would do whatever it took to defend
the Pack.
“Fallon wants to talk to you.” Luc offered her his phone then
quickly backed away.
What was this mystery activity? Did he need to feed on her blood?
That sounded suspiciously like a vampire’s cure and since werewolves and
vampires had been mortal enemies for centuries, she doubted that would be
it.
“Honor upon your house. Health and
happiness for your pups, Alpha,” Caitlin said.
Luc leaned against the wall and watched Caitlin. He’d always thought
she was cute but he’d never allowed himself to look at her in a sexual way.
Staring at her now, he could see her lush body—firm, full breasts, an ass
with just enough curve to fill his hands. He ignored the tightening in his crotch
and listened to Caitlin’s conversation. As she talked, she continued to
walk the width of the room. The Alpha’s solution was unusual and risky. And
it required Caitlin’s full cooperation.
Luc could hear the faint rumble of Fallon’s voice through the phone.
And he knew the precise moment he explained what was needed. It was the
moment Caitlin’s cheeks turned red. She raised one finger and gnawed on the
nail. It was a habit she had when she was thinking or nervous.
“Yes, I understand.” She nodded and turned away. “Yes, thank you,
Alpha.” She snapped the phone shut but kept her back to him.
“Did he explain what you would need to do?”
Caitlin nodded and slowly turned to face him. “I’m to keep the room
cool, feed you the rarest cuts of meat they can provide and…” The blush
bloomed again in her cheeks. “And have sex with you whenever and however
you desire it.”
DREAM WALKER
Patrice
Michelle
Chapter
One
“Great, just great. Even Mother Nature’s not on my side tonight.”
Erin Stein gripped the steering wheel tighter as thunder rolled and
lightning splintered the night sky above her. The smell of rain combined
with the cool breeze blowing through her car vents caused goosebumps to form on her arms. Electricity hung in the
air, the impending storm almost upon her.
As if on cue, the sudden downpour hammered against her windows. Erin glanced in the rearview
mirror as the rain streaming down her back window magnified the bright
lights of the truck gaining on her. She clenched her jaw and returned her
gaze to the road, her shoulders tense and her heart pounding out of
control.
I have to shake them, she thought, her mind whirling
for alternate routes she might take. I have to get to Kian. He’ll know what to do.
Her neck snapped back as her car jolted forward, jerking her out of
her musings. Fear radiated through her at the sound of metal crumpling and
plastic cracking as the truck rode her bumper, revving its engine. Holding
back the scream that threatened at the violent turn of her situation, she
shifted gears and slammed the pedal to the floor. Her car shot forward,
fishtailing on the muddy road. She counter-steered to straighten her
vehicle, thankful she’d been able to put at least a car’s distance between
her pursuers and herself.
“You idiots! If you kill me, you get nothing,” she called out with a
hysterical laugh.
Thunder rumbled, shaking the ground and even her car in its
intensity.
“A miracle would be nice,” she murmered at
the same time a bolt of lightning struck the road twenty feet ahead of her.
As gusts of wind buffeted her car, rocking the sedan back and forth,
Erin looked up and saw a tall oak tree on
the side of the road sway, then begin to fall. Gunning her engine once
more, she swerved against the wind and let out a sigh of relief when the
tree slammed hard on the road behind her. She glanced over her
shoulder in anticipation to see the truck slide across the muddy dirt road
right into the tree.
“Take that!” she exclaimed in triumph, a wide grin on her face as
she quickly turned back to face the road.
When her gaze landed on the huge rock lying directly in her path, Erin’s smile faded and her adrenaline spiked once
more. Her chest tightened with fear as she jerked the wheel to avoid the
obstacle. Too late. Her car’s front tire caught the edge of the rock and
sent the vehicle careening straight toward the woods along the side of the
road.
When she entered the woods and her car plummeted down a steep
ravine, she screamed. As tension gripped her entire body, she clung
to the steering wheel, her arms locked in position. It may have been
fruitless, but the action gave her the false sense of security that she had
a modicum of control over the situation. While tree limbs sped past, leaves
and branches clawing at her windows and reality hurled toward her at an
accelerated speed, Erin accepted her fate.
Regret washed over her that she had failed. Squeezing her eyes shut,
she prayed for a swift, painless death.
The sudden, jarring impact caused her head to slam into the steering
wheel. As excruciating pain pierced her skull, a fleeting thought occurred:
why the hell didn’t the airbag…
She didn’t get to complete the thought as she succumbed to blissful
oblivion.
ONE NIGHT STAND
J.C.
Wilder
Lucius deVille had the face of an angel and the body of an
unrepentant sinner. He was the kind of vampire every woman dreamed of
calling ‘Lover’ at least once in her life. He was the proverbial tall, dark
and handsome male who was the fantasy of millions of women around the world
and to top it all off, he was educated and possessed a wicked sense of humor that had charmed more than one woman out of her
panties.
Tonight, Rachel was determined to claim Luc as her
own. For the evening, at least.
She slipped through the open doors of the Chat Noir, a
popular restaurant and jazz club. To the left was the restaurant. Every
table was crammed with Halloween revelers dressed
in every kind of costume imaginable. A group of over-aged, underdressed
cheerleaders hoisted their cocktails in a boisterous salute while the table
next to them was filled to overflowing with costumed nuns and empty shot
glasses.
To the right was a cramped seating area for patrons who consumed
cocktails while they waited for their tables to be vacated. It, too, was
crammed to the hilt and Rachel grinned as a naked man sauntered past
dressed only in a body condom and an inebriated smile.
God, she loved living in New
Orleans.
She threaded her way through the crowd and headed straight for the
bar where she knew Luc was most likely to be stationed. She spotted her
prey at the end of the bar talking to a redheaded waitress. With his elbow
propped on the polished wood, he leaned against the bar and looked to be
completely at ease in the midst of the madness going on around him.
Topping out at several inches past six feet, he was a masterpiece of
hard-muscled male and barely leashed sensuality. His shoulder-length silky
black hair was pulled back from an autocratic face with a narrow strip of
black leather. Thick, dark lashes framed his mesmerizing blue eyes and his
nose was thin with a slight bump at the bridge betraying the fact that it
had been broken at least once during his human life.
His mouth was wide and sensual, bordering on feminine for such a
masculine face. The lean planes of his cheeks and the sharp line of his jaw
saved him from being mistaken for anything other than one hundred percent
male.
A pointy elbow landed in her ribs and the unprovoked strike jerked
her out of her contemplation. She scowled and allowed her lips to draw back
from the needle-sharp incisors, knowing any mortal would believe them to be
false. Halloween was the one night of the year vampires could flash their
fangs and no one would pay them any attention.
Her molester was a drunken human dressed as a gladiator. He gave her
a lopsided smile, tripped over his own feet, staggered and fell against his
friends who were dressed as he was. He grabbed his crotch and leered at
her.
“Hey babe, wanna bite this?”
His friends roared with laughter and then shoved him toward Rachel.
She was forced to grab him or risk being knocked to the ground by his
substantial weight.
Laugh at her, would they?
She snagged his collar and hauled him up until he was on his
tiptoes, high enough to gain his attention without anyone else around them
noticing. His eyes bulged and his knees knocked against hers as he flailed
in an attempt to gain his freedom.
She smiled and flashed her fangs. His human strength was pathetic
when compared to her vampiric abilities.
“Not without a rabies shot, little man.” She released him and pushed
him toward his laughing friends. It was only a gentle nudge yet it sent him
barreling backwards into the others and forced
them all back a few steps.
A wide-eyed blond man grabbed her victim by the arm. Giving Rachel
an apologetic smile and a bobbing nod, he pulled his spluttering friend
into the crowd leaving the others to follow.
Smart man.
Turning away, she moved through the crowd to the bar. When she
passed Luc, he was still deep in conversation with the waitress. Rachel’s
gaze moved over him and she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked
in his pirate costume.
His feet and calves were encased in knee-high cuffed leather boots
while tight black velvet pants covered his muscular thighs and slim hips. A
red silk sash was tied around his waist and the jeweled
dagger at his hip added a touch of danger. His oversized white shirt was
open to mid chest allowing tantalizing glimpses of hard, muscled flesh
beneath. The sleeves were long and full and the cuffs were trimmed in white
lace. A gold hoop earring glinted in his left ear.
Luc looked good enough to eat.
Rachel snagged the only open bar seat and slid onto it. When she’d
moved to New Orleans
several months ago, the Chat had been one of her first stops. Known for
good food and stellar accommodations for the preternaturals,
the Chat Noir was a must-see for both residents and tourists.
Like the restaurant, the bar was packed with both mortals and others
like her. Several werecat males were seated at
the bar surrounded by a flock of mortal women. She grinned. The sexual
appetites of the werecats were legendary in the
preternatural world and she knew several of those beauties would be very
happy women in the morning.
A group of young vampires headed for the noisy darkness of the jazz
club in the back of the building. No doubt they were looking for some cool
jazz and hot blood, though not necessarily in that order.
“Evening, Rachel.” From behind the bar, Tom, the assistant manager
of the bar, offered her a wide smile. He was a big, rangy werecat with thick golden hair, dark brown eyes and a
quick, easy smile.
“Good to see you, my friend.” She waved her hand to indicate the
crowds. “I could barely get in the door tonight.”
“We’re always packed on Halloween.” He reached for a black china mug
that was used to serve their vampire guests. “Would you like your usual?”
“No, I think I will…” she smiled, allowing the tips of her fangs to
appear. “Kick it up a bit.”
His golden brow rose. “Are you sure, Rach?
You aren’t much of a drinker.”
“I’m on a mission this evening, Tom. Besides, I’m feeling a little
adventurous.” She tilted her head, enjoying the unfamiliar feel of her long
hair against her back. She almost always kept her hair up in either a
ponytail or a twist to keep it out of the way. But not tonight.
He winked. “Your outfit tells me that.”
Rachel’s smile increased. She knew the tight black dress looked like
it was painted onto her body. Her breasts threatened to spill from the deep
V neckline. The high hemline barely covered the lace tops of her thigh-high
stockings and. Her feet would be sore later, but the four-inch spiked heels
made her feel sexier, more feminine.
She knew the outfit was hot, but Tom wasn’t talking specifically
about her clothing. Her index finger brushed the slim velvet choker that
encircled her neck. The strip of red velvet advertised that she was a
vampire on the hunt for a man.
She propped her arms on the bar. “I’ve achieved my goal then.”
“In spades, babe.” Tom leaned toward her and spoke in a low tone
that only she would hear. “Do you want cat or wolf?”
She’d thought about this long and hard before leaving her cozy home earlier. The blood selection for the evening
was an important one, as ingesting werecat or
werewolf blood would achieve two very different purposes.
The wolf blood would hype her nervous system and possibly drive her
into a frenzy if she ingested too much, while the werecat blood would do the exact opposite. Werecat blood would remove any inhibitions she had
about enticing Luc into a one-night stand.
Her lips brushed Tom’s cheek and she whispered, “Bring on the
kitty.”
A rumble of laughter sounded in her ear. “Your wish is my command.”
Tom turned away to take care of her order. She shifted until she had
a good view down the length of the bar. Luc had concluded his conversation
and now leaned against the wall just several feet away. His alert gaze
moved over the crowd and, while his body was still, she sensed he was ready
to spring into action should the need arise.
It was just over a month ago when she’d first seen Luc in the flesh.
She’d heard of him, of course, as the vampire community was a close-knit
bunch for the most part and they loved nothing more than a good gossip.
Several years ago, Luc had been involved in a very high-profile affair with
a Russian actress that had ended with her suicide and his sudden
disappearance from public life.
Rumored to be a French
Viscount of old, he’d abandoned his self-imposed seclusion to come to New Orleans and lend
a hand to Sinjin, the owner of the Chat Noir.
Recently engaged, Sinjin and his fiancée, Vivian,
had left on a long overdue vacation and Luc was keeping an eye on the place
while they were away.
From the moment Rachel had seen him, she could barely take her eyes
off the vampire. Drawn by his latent sexuality and air of mystery that
surrounded him, she’d become a frequent visitor to the Chat, hanging out
just to catch a glimpse of him. Not that he’d ever noticed her. What man
would look at a mousy CPA when other, more beautiful, women surrounded him
night after night?
None.
She smiled and propped her chin on her palm. Tonight would be
different. Tonight, Luc couldn’t overlook her,
she’d make sure of it.
According to Tom, Sinjin was scheduled to
return within the next day or so and, all too soon, Luc would be leaving New Orleans for parts
unknown.
Rachel nibbled on her lower lip. Knowing he was leaving and that
she’d never spoken to him—not once—nagged at her. She had only one chance
left to find out what it felt like to be in this man’s arms and she was
going to grab that opportunity with both hands or make a fool of herself
trying.
She wasn’t interested in finding the elusive, happily-ever-after
relationship that most women dreamed of. She’d thought she’d found it once
long ago and, in the end, she’d lost Wyatt anyway. No, she was interested
in Mr. Right Now. One night of unrestrained passion, enough to sustain her
through the long, lonely, cold nights that lay ahead. Luc was the obvious
choice as he was the first man in forty-three years who had interested her
enough to bring her out of her self-imposed celibacy.
“Hey Luc,” Tom called. “Do you have the key?”
Her heart leapt into her throat when the vampire turned his dark
head toward Tom.
“Sure thing.” Pushing off the wall, Luc walked toward them. With
each step, her breathing grew shallower. Luc had a confident, easy walk;
one that proclaimed he was comfortable in his own skin and in his place in
the world.
He stopped near Rachel and she inhaled deeply. Heat swirled through
her belly when she discerned his masculine scent through the myriad aromas
in the room. It was dark and musky, sexual, a mixture of heated spice and
warm male flesh.
“I need to run down the cellar; we’re almost out of chardonnay.” Tom
gestured toward Rachel. “The lady would like a drink.”
Luc turned toward her and she braced herself for the magnetism of
his stare. The moment his midnight gaze landed on her face, she felt as if
a hot poker had slid under her skin. Fighting for a cool demeanor, she lowered her arm and wondered if he’d
recognize her as a Chat regular. His dark eyes showed definite interest in
her as a woman, but she couldn’t detect any flash of recognition. It was
amazing what a little makeup could do.
A slow smile curved the handsome sinner’s mouth. “It would be my
pleasure to assist the lady.”
A warm, liquid heat ignited in the pit of her stomach and her palms
grew moist. Luc retrieved a slim silver key from
his pants pocket and unlocked a narrow door built into the wall. Inside the
cubbyhole were two black carafes, each marked
with either a cat or wolf paw print in bright red. He reached for the one
with the wolf imprint.
“Excuse me. I’d prefer the other, please.” Rachel said.
His dark brow arched and the corner of his mouth hitched as his hand
veered toward the one marked with the cat print. Picking up one of the
black mugs, he set it on the bar.
“Not too many women search out this particular brand.” He filled the
cup halfway.
“Indeed.” Rachel reached for the mug and pulled it toward her; her
senses already on high alert at the first scent of the rich, warm blood. “I
guess I’m not like many women.”
His smile grew and Rachel’s legs went watery. “I would have to agree
that you’re not like many women I’ve known.”
A rush of pleasure moved through her and she smiled. “Oh, I can
guarantee that.”
He laughed and the warm, rich sound poured over her senses like
sun-warmed honey. Dizzy with her success, she picked up the mug and tossed
the miniscule contents back like a pro, or how she’d imagine a pro would do
so.
The moment the liquid hit her mouth, she reeled. Unlike the familiar
taste of mortal blood, the werecat blood was
oddly spicy—almost to the point of being overwhelming. She felt as if
someone had hooked her tongue to a car battery and then administered a
series of short jolts. She swallowed hard and her eyes were watering when
she set the cup down with a clatter.
Oh my…
She heard Luc chuckle.
“First time?”
She blinked and his handsome face slowly took shape. She scrubbed at
her eyes and realized she’d just made a complete fool of herself. She’d
only look more ridiculous if she denied her inexperience so she settled for
a jerky nod as she struggled to not cough herself silly. She could feel her
cheeks grow red from the strain and she forced herself to stop rubbing her
eyes. She could only hope her mascara was as waterproof as the package had
claimed.
His big hand covered hers. “It’s not a good idea to toss back werecat blood like that.” His fingers moved to encircle
her wrist. “Think of it as brandy to a human; it is a delicacy that should
be savored.”
She cleared her throat. “So I see.” Her voice came out low and
husky. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
She was disturbingly aware of his flesh against hers, the heat of
his skin and the strength of his fingers. His thumb gave the inside of her
wrist a soft stroke and her heart stuttered. Liquid warmth in the pit of
her stomach ignited and spread through her system, causing her to become
hypersensitive to everything going on around her: the noise of the crowd,
the dim lighting overhead and the heady sensation of this man focusing his
complete attention on her.
“To properly enjoy the experience, you should take your time when
indulging yourself.” His voice was low, sensual. Luc released her wrist and
she immediately mourned the loss of his touch. “Take pleasure in it.” He
reached for the carafe and refilled her mug before retrieving a mug for
himself. “Were-blood, like lovemaking, should be savored.”
Rachel reached for her drink. “So you’re a man who believes
lovemaking should be savored?” Amazed that she’d
managed to speak of sex without stuttering, she raised the glass to her
lips while she mentally praised the effects of the were-blood on her
self-confidence.
He nodded. “Much like a fine wine or a rich meal.” He propped his
elbows on the bar and leaned forward until his mouth was barely an inch
from hers. His breath was warm upon her lips when he spoke. “New Orleans is a city
that possesses the twin vices of sin and pleasure.” His gaze flicked over
her mouth. “The city, like a good woman, should be indulged.”
She lowered the glass and offered him a suggestive smile. “Or a good
man.” She tilted her head, enjoying the soft buzz from her drink and the
long-dormant arousal that surged forth. She pressed her thighs together in
a vague attempt to ease the burgeoning ache. “What about you? Are you a
good man, Luc?”
His lips quirked. “Some women have said that I’m a good man.” His
gaze dropped to her mouth again. “While others might disagree.”
She ran the edge of her cup against her lower lip before setting it
on the bar. “Well, I don’t trust the judgment of other women.” She shrugged
and allowed her arm to come down, then watched as her hand landed on his
wrist. “I guess if I really want to know, I’ll have to find out myself.”
TAIL OF THE TIGER
R.
Casteel
Chapter
1
Dearest Father had ruined enough people’s lives.
Cedric Deverone Jr.
sat at the large oak desk going through the hundreds of disks left to him
by his father, Cedric Deverone Sr. His eyes felt
like someone had poured sand in them. With his food cold, forgotten, and a
bottle of his father’s most expensive imported cognac in his hand, he read
the information on the screen. It had taken him five hours to break the
security code on the last disk.
Now, in all truth, he wished he hadn’t been successful. He knew his
father was a brilliant scientist and the founder of Ever-Alive, the leading
institute for the cloning of humans. He hadn’t known until now of his
father’s sickly perverted experiments—or that he
was his father’s bid for immortality.
He, Cedric Deverone Jr.,
was another of his father’s misbegotten clones.
Cedric lifted the crystal bottle to his lips, took a long swallow,
and felt the fire wash over him. In anger, he threw the bottle at the large
portrait over the fireplace. The bottle broke, soaking the canvas and
filling the room with the heady aroma. Glass fell to the floor and
glistened in the reflected light of the fire.
Rage boiled up inside him, releasing the bloodlust he fought so hard
to control. He wished now, more than ever, that Cedric Deverone
Sr. had never been born.
* * * * *
Cedric watched the island take shape on the horizon and adjusted his
course. He had sailed out of Brazil a week ago, one month to
the day after having found the damning file. Stocks wavered and fell as the
news spread of the redistribution and liquidation of the Deverone fortunes.
It had been assumed when his father died, that he would step in and
fill his shoes. Board members from a dozen companies, firms, and charities
were now scrambling to fill the vacant seat.
Some said he was abandoning his responsibilities, others that he
owed his father to keep Ever-Alive going. Cedric saw it the other way
around. He owed Cedric Deverone Sr., nothing.
On the sea charts, Deverone Island
was only a dot in an endless ocean of blue. It was his island now, the only
piece of real estate not for sale. As he watched the foliage take the shape
of large trees, excitement began to rush through him.
The beauty of the island, the danger of the unknown, and dread of
discovering that the story on the disk was true caused a varied mixture of
emotions to swirl in his mind. According to the records, the half-ling
woman wasn’t the first. Were there more of his father’s mistakes on
the island?
There came to him another emotion, one he hadn’t felt in years. A
feeling that frightened him more than finding out the secrets of his
father’s work were not, after all, the fanatical
ravings of a sick man. For the first time in more years than he could
remember, Cedric Deverone felt he was coming
home.
Circling the island, he anchored his sailboat in a small, protected
cove and took the dingy to the narrow white beach. A swell from the tide
pushed him onto the sand and he hopped out. His heart pounded painfully in
his chest as he knelt to examine a single set of footprints leading to the
dense cover of the tropical forest.
Ten feet away, he found a clean, distinct handprint and then
another. It was true, every word of horror his father wrote. She walked
upright like a human and ran on all fours like the beast. The prints bore
clear proof that the half-ling clone still lived.
Cedric stood, wiped the sweat from his palms, and followed the trail
into the underbrush.
* * * * *
Watching from the high branches of the canopy, she studied the man
as he entered the forest. The simmering heat lifted his spoor and she
tasted his fear. Yet he worked his way slowly and silently along the trail
like a predator instead of the prey. Kat melted into the shadows as he
lifted his head, his eyes searching among the treetops.
For a human, he wasn’t bad looking. A thin white shirt clung to his
body, revealing broad muscular shoulders and a narrow waist. His long,
curly black hair stirred in the ocean breeze. Humans had visited her island
before, but few ever ventured off the beach. Those who did—seldom returned.
He stopped directly under her, studying the ground and listening.
“Kat, I know you are watching me.” He kept his voice low like he
knew she was close by. “I only hope you can understand what I’m saying.”
Panic gripped her heart. The tip of her long tail twitched
nervously. How does he know my name?
“I do not wish to harm you. Please, you have to believe me.” He
stood, leaned against her tree, and waited.
Her fingers brushed a pinecone and it fell, landing at his feet. She
heard his soft chuckle as he reached down and picked it up.
“Sorry, Kat. I didn’t bring anything for you from my boat. If you’ll
come down to the beach tonight, I’ll have something for you there.” He
walked away, back down the path.
Leaping surefooted from limb to limb, Kat descended to the ground.
His scent filled her senses, excited her. For some reason, this human had
come seeking her out. Sinking to all fours, she crept through the
underbrush.
She watched him start a small pile of sticks on fire and as the
flames grew, he added more wood. Humans were strange creatures, always
wanting fire. She knew how to harness the power but had no real need of it.
Her guardian, the only human she had ever trusted, had taught her
about it and their language. It had been so long now since his passing, she
missed the long nights under the stars, listening to him tell about a
mysterious world that she would never know.
This was her home, her sanctuary. From her earliest memories, she
had run through the trees, caught fish in the small stream, and lived off
the land. She felt safe here, unless humans came.
* * * * *
Cedric spent the remainder of the day gathering wood for his fire
and exploring along the beach. Through the shadows and dense foliage, he
caught fleeting glimpses of her as she watched him from a distance. He had
taken a risk going into the thick tropical canopy and invading her
territory. Was she stalking his every movement out of curiosity, or was she
waiting for him to venture back into the tree line where she could spring
from hiding and kill him?
Along a small fresh-water inlet, he found more of her footprints and
knelt to examine them more closely. Kat was so close that he could feel her
presence and hear her shallow breathing. Cedric slowly turned his head and
stared into the dense cover. Brilliant amber eyes glared back at him.
Cupping his hand, he dipped it into the water and lifted it to his
mouth never taking his eyes off of hers. They held him spellbound. If she
attacked now, he would be powerless to protect himself.
“You have beautiful eyes, Kat.” He decided to trust his feelings
instead of centuries-old inbred instincts. Cedric turned his back to her,
stood, and walked away.
His eyes were black as night, and seemed as fathomless. Their
compelling depths had nearly drawn her out of hiding. She crept back into
the darkening forest and followed his movements down the beach. Upon
reaching his small campsite, he stretched and began removing his clothes.
Laughter filled her chest at the sight. Men were so helpless without
clothes. They can’t even run through the forest for fear of hurting
their little…she searched for the words she had heard from other
humans…cocks, pricks, dicks, so many names for something so small.
Kat crept forward in the encroaching darkness. Curious about him,
she lay on the beach and watched him in the water. He moved closer, and she
bunched her muscles, ready to flee at the slightest danger.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. She had actually come out of the
forest. “Please, don’t go.”
“Who are you and how did you know I was here?” Her tail swept across
the sand.
“Oh! Wow! You do talk.” Although her English was good, with just a
hint of New England accent, her words were
slow as if she seldom used speech to communicate.
He started to move closer and she lifted her hips in the air.
“I don’t blame you for being afraid.” Holding his hands up, he
stopped and backed away. “My name is Cedric. I found out about you from
going through my father’s files.”
“I was told a man would come one day and that I should kill him to
make the world a safer place.”
“Regrettably, the person you speak of was my father and he is
already dead.”
“Come out of the water, Cedric, before you fall prey to the large
creatures of the sea. I believe you call them…sharks.”
She backed up as he drew near.
Picking
up a piece of wood, he added it to the fire and sat down. Kat came out of
the darkness into the flickering light of the fire.
Cedric stared open mouthed at the beauty of the half-ling. Amber
eyes caught the fire and flashed in the night. Her dark rose-colored hair
flowed around her face in a wavy halo before falling to just below her
shoulders. Except for orange and black-striped skin on her forehead, it
could have been her image cast on movie theaters,
television screens, and magazines around the world.
Human skin covered most of her chest. Her large breasts sagged
slightly from years without wearing support. The rest of her, covered with
the short orange and black-striped fur of a tiger, intrigued him.
“You find me repulsive?” Kat crossed her arms over her breasts.
“Different, but never repulsive.” Cedric lay back on the sand,
turned on his side, and propped his head on his arm. “I see your mother in
you.”
“My mother?” Quicker than his eye could follow, she sprang across
the fire and crouched within reach. “You knew my mother?”
“Not personally.” He watched the corded muscles in her legs and arms
quiver. “Since discovering my father’s files, I’ve watched every movie of her
I could get my hands on.”
“Movie, what is a…movie?”
“I can show you on my boat.” He lifted his arm and pointed out
towards the cove. “I thought you might want to see her.”
She sniffed the air and whipped her head back to glare into his
eyes. “ There is no one on your boat.”
“No, I have a picture of her.” Cedric watched the indecision play
across her face. Her long sleek tail swished in the sand.
“I will see this picture, and if it is not as you say…” she trailed
off and smiled.
Kat didn’t need to say any more. Two large canine teeth glistened in
the light of the fire. “Come with me, and I will show you.” Cedric stood
and held out his hand.
Slowly, she raised her hand to take his. He felt her tension
pulsating through her fingers. Even this small measure of trust elated him
and he smiled.
Surprisingly, she smiled back.
DRAGON’S LAW: MACE
Alicia
Sparks
Chapter
One
Near Waydon,
a small village near Tyr on the planet Tyr-LaRoche. Modern Day.
The wind howled, forcing the tiny hairs on Eleanora’s
neck to stand at attention. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her
throat and waited. The night birds that had been singing their welcome to
the moon only seconds before were quiet now, as if they anticipated the
arrival of some menacing force that would rip them from the sky. The
clearing was illuminated by the light moon as the dark one hung, a black
circle in the night’s sky, signaling what would
soon be coming.
The thunderous footsteps seemed to echo as they approached. Eleanora listened as tree branches snapped and leaves
crunched beneath the power of the beast that made its way to the
sacrificial site. Perspiration formed on her hands as they remained
tethered in place. She was prepared for whatever the fates had deemed would
be her destiny. As the dragon approached, she raised her chin, willing
herself to face her death as her sisters had faced theirs. If only she
could be the last sacrifice, a guarantee that the villagers would no longer
strive to sate the dragon’s blood lust.
The dragon crouched before her and let out a piercing growl, forcing
her to flinch, her bravery fleeing. A slow chill crept up her back as her
eyes ran over the dragon’s frame. He was no bigger than a man, but his
domineering presence in the clearing was enough to make that chill break
into a full-blown shudder. She had never seen a dragon at such close range
and had no idea what to expect of him. This was certainly not it. Still, he
was commanding enough to make her rethink her plan of attack, which was to
use magick to free herself and render him
helpless. She cringed when she caught sight of his tail, which swished like
a cat’s and was double the length of his body. The tail looked harmless at
first glance, but the spines there were known for the poison they injected
into his victims. Her hands clutched into fists as she contemplated her best
plan of attack. A wave of nausea threatened to overtake her. In spite of
her trepidation, she was held spellbound by the strength of his frame.
She raked her eyes over his scaly body and bit her lip as she raised
her head, daring to look at his face. The profile was almost human, but
there was nothing human about the way he lingered over her body, prepared
to make her his latest meal as his hot breath swept across her face.
The howl echoed once more, conjuring tremors throughout her body,
but his approach ceased when he lifted his head to sniff the air as if he
sensed someone else here. Her hands froze, and her entire body stood
stock-still. The dragon caught her eyes only for a second, but she felt the
image of raw pain that reflected in those gray
pools.
He turned and flicked his tail back and forth before he pounced.
The dragon covered her body as he let out a howl that sounded like
pain. Eleanora tried to steady her breathing,
tried to recover from her moment in the dragon’s eyes, but her body refused
to cooperate. She should act now and save herself, but her arms wouldn’t
move. The piercing sound of the dragon’s roar forced her into action. The
jolt of electricity that shot through her body at the sound of his cry was
enough to move her once-frozen limbs.
The words were said in an instant, almost before she could think her
way through the spell. As soon as they fled her lips, the shackles fell to
the ground, releasing her from her temporary prison. Only now, two dragons
hindered her move toward safety.
Her passage was blocked as the black one, the one whose eyes she had
seen so clearly. Then the red one advanced, charging forward, challenging
the black one for dominance. Eleanora was
trapped, unable to move between or around the dragons, unable to save herself. Cowering to the ground, Eleanora
lay spellbound as the black dragon covered her body, protecting her from
the fury of the red.
In the next seconds, the black let out a howl and blood flowed from
the long razor cuts along its back. It circled around the red, the two
looking like wild animals challenging one another for a meal. She swallowed
hard. If they sensed she was still here in the darkness, neither gave
notice.
She drew in her breath, once more determined to end the wreckage
brought upon her village by the dragons. Every ounce of courage she may
have had hours ago died inside her as she contemplated her approach. Two
ferocious beasts fought just a few yards away from her. And never before
had she felt as inconsequential as she did at this moment.
Then, at the last moment, the red dragon misjudged. He caught sight
of her, distracting him enough to give the black an advantage. Bleeding,
howling in pain, the black leapt, sinking his teeth into the jugular.
The red didn’t fall as she expected. She knew dragons must lose much
more blood than a shallow cut could render. And they healed more quickly
than humans. But the black hadn’t given up his quest. Eleanora’s
eyes widened as he leapt once more, this time practically ripping the vein
from his opponent’s neck.
The black turned now, having worn the red to weakness. The red lay
in a heap under the moonlight, his blood already ceasing to flow. Before
she had time to react, everything went black.
TAMING JACK
Angela
Knight
Prologue
He’d known the call to report to the Sheriff’s office couldn’t be
good, and he was right.
“Jack, this isn’t easy for me to say, but I don’t have a choice,”
Sheriff Steve Jones said after Ramsey had settled into the lone chair in
front of the big man’s desk. “You’re endangering the case. You’re going to
have to back off.”
“What case?” In his frustration, Ramsey forgot any pretense of diplomacy. “Dammit!
It’s been three weeks since Heather was murdered and we don’t have shit.
Not a suspect, not a clue. Nothing.”
The sheriff’s long, homely face hardened. “Watch your tone, Deputy.
I’ve been willing to allow you a certain amount of slack under the
circumstances, but you’re pushing it. Hard.”
“Sheriff, she was my baby sister.” A barely controlled fury rumbled
in his voice. Ramsey clenched his fists as his mind flashed back to that
day three weeks ago when he’d found Heather lying on the floor of her
apartment.
Naked, raped and strangled. All her wit and loving spirit gone,
sacrificed to a psycho’s sick lust.
She’d been just fifteen when their parents died in a car crash the
year Jack was a college senior. He’d put aside his own law school dreams
and became a cop so he could support her.
It had been worth it. Heather—bright, pretty Heather—had deserved
the best he could give her.
And she’d given him her best right back.
Heather was determined to become a trauma surgeon so she could save
people like their parents, and she’d devoted everything to that dream. In
college, she worked so hard and so brilliantly, she’d won a medical
scholarship to Duke
University. Ramsey
had been so damn proud of her, he’d cried without shame at her college
graduation.
But the week before she was supposed to leave for med school, some
sick fuck had extinguished all her bright promise and gutted Jack Ramsey’s
soul.
He had nothing left —not for himself, not even for Lark Anderson,
the woman he loved and had once planned to marry. Like his dreams for his
sister, that plan was ashes now. He knew Lark deserved more than the hollow
man he’d become.
Now all that drove him was the search for Heather’s killer. And he
didn’t much care what he had to do to find him.
He’d raged through town like an avenging angel, questioning anybody
and everybody who might know anything about Heather’s death. And sometimes
he hadn’t been particularly polite in his methods, particularly with
certain lowlife thugs of his acquaintance.
Which might be why the Sheriff had finally drawn
the line.
Now Jones sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Jack, for once
think like a cop instead of the victim’s big brother. Let’s say all that cowboying around town you’re doing does bear fruit, and
you shake loose a lead—or even a confession. You know what the killer’s
lawyer will do with that?”
“At least we’d have an arrest,” Ramsey growled.
“Which is no damn good without a conviction.”
The sheriff glared at Jack, frustration pouring off him in waves that were
almost visible. “And we won’t get one, because the defense
will claim you were on a vendetta, that in your grief you arrested an
innocent man because you were so hungry to see somebody—anybody—pay. And
that argument’s going to sound awfully convincing to a jury, considering
you’re not even a detective.”
Jack stiffened. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know my job.”
Jones threw up his big hands in a gesture of disgust. “Oh, for God’s
sake, you’re a motorcycle cop, Jack! You’re supposed to catch speeders and
write traffic tickets, not solve murders.”
“Sheriff…”
“Look, I know you’re trying to get Heather justice, but this isn’t
the way to do it.” Jones caught him in a hard, level stare. “I’m giving you
a direct order, Deputy Ramsey. Back off. Take your bereavement leave and
let us do our jobs. Spend some time with that girl of yours and get your
head screwed on straight.” The sheriff’s mouth tightened. “Before you blow
your career straight to hell.”
Ramsey stalked outside toward his cycle, his boots ringing on the
pavement, his strides long and angry. His sister’s murder was turning into
one of the whodunits cops hated, the kind that never got solved.
Now every day that passed put the department further from catching
the killer. And Jones had just forbidden him to do anything to bring the
bastard to justice.
He wanted to howl.
Ramsey’s shoulders slumped. Maybe the sheriff was right and it was
time to pay Lark a visit. He’d been avoiding her since Heather’s funeral,
unwilling to expose his psychic wounds to her pity. All he wanted now was
to go to her, talk to her. Maybe…
“Jack Ramsey?”
Impatiently, Ramsey turned to see an elderly woman standing in the
parking lot under the light of a street lamp. She was dressed entirely in
pink, from the pillbox hat perched on her lavender curls to her neat pink
dress, right on down to her pink flats. Over one arm, she carried a huge
pink straw purse that seemed to be moving. Ramsey shot it a wary glance in
time to see a little Yorkshire terrier thrust up its fuzzy black head from
the purse’s pink depths.
“You are Jack Ramsey, are you not?” the old woman asked in a reedy
voice.
Great. She probably wanted to complain about some neighbor who liked to play his boom box too loud.
Controlling his sigh, Ramsey walked over to find out what she wanted.
“That’s me. What can I do for you, ma’am?”
Blue eyes met his, astonishingly sharp in that wrinkled face. “It’s
what I can do for you, young man.” She reached into the bag and pulled out
the Yorkie. Holding the dog out to him, she said,
“This is Gav.”
Ramsey looked down at the little animal, which stared back at him
with perked ears. “Cute dog. Look, ma’am, if you need help, the desk
officer inside can…”
“Do you want to catch your sister’s killer, or don’t you?” the old
woman demanded.
He stiffened, his gaze narrowing on hers. “What do you know about
that?”
She thrust the Yorkie at him again. “Take Gav,
and all your questions will be answered.”
Impatiently, Ramsey reached for the dog. “Ma’am, what is it you have
to…?”
The instant his hands closed around the animal’s furry ribs, the Yorkie began to glow. Jack glanced down in surprise. He
barely had time to yelp before a beam of raw force shot from the dog’s eyes
and into his.
As the energy blasted into him, his body jolted as if he’d seized a
live electric line. Pain ripped through him. He couldn’t even force a
scream past his straining vocal cords.
When the beam finally cut off, Jack toppled backward like a felled
tree to hit the sidewalk flat on his back.
The dog was gone.
The old woman looked down at him as he stared blindly at the stars,
arms and legs still jerking. “Now, isn’t that better?”
With a satisfied nod, she turned around and headed back toward her
car. Distantly, Jack heard the purr of a big car’s engine as she drove
away.
CLOSE WINDOW
|