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PHOENIX RISING I
With stories by
Morgana de Winter
Marie Harte
Michelle M. Pillow
Sherrill Quinn
Alicia Sparks
Nightshade © Copyright October 2006, Morgana de Winter Deception’s Calling © Copyright October 2006, Marie Harte Arrested Desires © Copyright October 2006, Michelle M Pillow The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha © Copyright October 2006, Sherrill Quinn Morpheus © Copyright October 2006, Alicia Sparks Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © Copyright October 2006 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Nightshade
By
Morgana de Winter
Chapter One
The chill blast of air that cut through Bronwyn’s thin nightrail penetrated her pain and fever induced stupor sufficiently to heighten her awareness of her surroundings. Both of her eyes were swollen nearly shut, however, and it took an effort to pry her eyelids up enough to see anything.
She wasn’t certain when she’d succeeded. It was dark, too dark to see much. After a few moments, though, she realized light filtered from the sky above from a sliver of moon and a million stars and she saw just enough of her surroundings to realize that they were on the ramparts of the castle.
“She was melancholy over the loss of my son … our son,” William muttered, correcting himself. “I should have realized how despondent she was, especially after the mid-wife told her it was unlikely she would conceive again, but....”
Sudden fear added to the chill gripping Bronwyn from the constant battering of the frigid wind that whipped her thin nightrail around her, and confusion. The fear was instinctual. In the months since she had been dragged to Raventhorne Keep as Lord William Smythson’s unwilling bride, he had taught her true terror.
His mutterings confused her, though.
Gathering her strength, she lifted her head, peering around them.
They were alone.
Who was he talking to, then?
What was he talking about?
He, more than anyone, should know she was not particularly despondent about losing his child. He could not help but know she loathed and feared him. Moreover, she had not simply ‘lost’ his child. He had beaten it from her when he had flown into one of his terrifying rages a week? Two weeks ago?
“I would have stopped her if I had had any inkling what she was about, locked her in her chambers.”
He stopped, apparently thinking that over and, despite the pain and fever that so filled Bronwyn’s mind that her ability to reason was severely hampered, it dawned on her why he had dragged her from her sickbed.
She was not dying fast enough to suit him. In fact, the healer had informed him only that morning that she was recovering.
He dropped her so abruptly she didn’t have time to cry out before she slammed into the hard stone floor of the battlements. The sharp intake of breath she’d sucked in to scream was forced from her lungs with a harsh grunt at impact. The pain that had been her constant companion since the beating, swelled, overwhelming her mind for many moments. When it began to subside, she realized that William had left her. She could hear the crunch of his boots against the stone as he paced the perimeter of the battlements.
“Here, I think, would be best. The body will be found right away--nothing to break the fall. It should be high enough.”
Grunting with the effort, Bronwyn managed to roll enough to search the ramparts for William. She saw that he was standing with his feet braced wide, his hands on his hips, staring down at the view below the front entrance of the castle.
Terror pushed her pain and fever wracked mind into cognition. He was going to throw her from the castle walls.
Weak as she was, adrenaline surged through her, lending her the strength to begin struggling to her feet. Blackness threatened to engulf her as she managed to get to her knees. She fought it, blinking her eyes to clear her vision as she searched for some avenue of escape.
Ignoring the pain and the threatening blackness, she began to crawl toward the stairs that William had used to reach the ramparts. She was so focused on her attempt she didn’t notice when his fingers tangled in her hair until he snatched her head back so hard a bone in her neck cracked.
“Bitch!” he snarled, twisting his hand in her hair and dragging her off balance. The friction of stone against her bare legs as he began dragging her burned like fire.
Uttering a whimper, Bronwyn reached with both hands to grab his, trying to pry him loose. “No!” she cried out.
He uttered a snarled curse and stopped dragging her. The moment the pain eased on her scalp, Bronwyn ceased pulling at the hand in her hair and began raking it with her nails. He released her abruptly and slapped her, sending her slamming into the stone floor again.
Stunned, she couldn’t even struggle as he grabbed her and hauled her roughly to her feet. “Claw me again and I will break your fingers,” he growled. “No one will notice broken fingers when every bone in your body is broken from the fall, and I will not bear marks that have everyone wondering if I threw you over.”
“Why?” Bronwyn gasped weakly as she felt him shift her weight and begin carrying her toward the crenellations again. In teeth gritted silence, she struggled for her life with every ounce of strength she could muster, hanging limply so that he bore all of her weight, prying at the arms that gripped her bruisingly.
He snorted. “Why not? I’ve no use for you anymore. I have your paltry landholdings and even more insignificant wealth. I’ve a fatter pigeon in mind … but first I have to be a widower.”
He was breathing heavily by the time he’d reached the parapet with her, but Bronwyn knew he still had more than enough strength to lift her over and pitch her to her death.
Defeat swelled over her as she realized she had nothing to barter with. Gathering the remnants of her strength as he shifted his hold on her to lift her, she began fighting him, uttering animal-like noises of fear, anger and distress, too caught up in trying to break his hold even to consider screaming.
He broke her hold each time she managed to secure one, lifting her inexorably toward the point of no return in spite of all she could. Almost as abruptly as her battle had begun, it ended. He ripped her clawing fingers loose from his tunic and she felt her stomach lurch as her body dropped.
Flailing her arms wildly, she clawed the air for purchase. Miraculously, her hand struck stonework, curled instinctively. Pain shot through her shoulder, elbow and wrist as her body dropped, almost snatching her grip loose. Dazed, terrified, she dimly realized she’d managed to catch a tenuous hold of one of the gargoyles that guarded Raventhorne Keep’s entrance. Uttering little sounds of fear and effort, she swung briefly, trying to find purchase with her free hand, trying to ignore the burning in the hand and arm that had given her a few more moments of life. “Please,” she gasped breathlessly, hopelessly, tearfully. “Help me. Please.”
“Bitch!” William snarled above her, beside himself with rage that she’d managed to break her fall even temporarily. “You stupid whore!”
Her fingers slipped. She struggled harder, but it merely loosened the only hold she had. She sucked in a sharp breath of terror as she lost her grip. Bile rose in her throat as her stomach clenched. Air whistled past her ears, fluttered the fabric of her nightrail so that it snapped.
She slammed into something so hard it knocked the breath from her lungs. An internal darkness swarmed around her, threatening to completely consume her.
It hadn’t hurt nearly as much as she had though it would, she thought dimly as sensation of falling stopped and she felt her body seem to float upward.
Not floating, precisely, she realized in confusion, and the tight bands around her weren’t pain from broken ribs. Arms held her, shifted her into a firmer hold. She felt almost a rocking motion, lift, pause, lift--as if she was being hoisted upward.
A jolt went through her as those sensations ended. She let out a gasp and clung frantically as the sensation of falling rushed over her again. The cold and hardness of stone touched her skin. Hands peeled her hands loose.
She peered up as she felt the presence move away from her, but she could see nothing but a huge, shapeless form above her.
William uttered a strangled scream, drawing her gaze. She saw then that she was on the battlements once more, saw a look of sheer terror on William’s face. As the shadowy figure moved away from her and stalked toward him, he seemed to come out of his state of frozen fear. Uttering a sound of horror, he tried to run.
Bronwyn blinked, trying to focus her vision, struggling against a wave of shock as she saw the man/beast seize William, lifting his frantically beating legs from the floor. Effortlessly, it seemed to her, the creature shook him like a dog tearing at its prey and then pitched him into the darkness beyond the crenellations.
William’s scream stabbed through her frozen shock like a fiery spear, sending echoes of his terror through her until it became her own. Fighting the urge to give into the loss of consciousness, Bronwyn struggled to move, fought her weakness to try to flee.
“Troublesome female!”
The voice sounded impossibly deep--and angry, rumbling from a chest fathoms wide.
She felt his nearness a split second before two hands closed around her that dwarfed her. She couldn’t voice her fear, couldn’t find the strength to struggle as he lifted her with arms like young oaks, brought her against an enormous chest.
Warmth surrounded her as he settled her there. Comforted by his oddly gentle hold, Bronwyn leaned weakly against his hard chest. “S..saved me,” she managed to whisper, surprise in voice.
There was a lengthy pause before he responded. “Aye, and damned myself,” he growled, his voice sounding gravelly with disuse.
Chastened but reassured that he truly had rescued her, Bronwyn inched a hand along his hard, smooth chest to curl her fingers along the broad column of his neck as he began to stride briskly across the ramparts.
“William?”
Again there was a significant pause, as if he was reluctant to speak at all. “Was despondent over the loss of his son and the certainty that he would lose his wife, as well, and leapt from the castle walls to his death.”
There was amusement in his voice, satisfaction.
A shiver skated through her.
By the time he had reached the bottom of the stairs Bronwyn’s teeth were chattering with reaction and cold. He pulled her more tightly against his body, sharing his warmth.
He had little to share. His body was nigh as chilled as her own, but the gesture comforted her, made her feel more certain of his protection.
Unerringly, he entered the castle and headed directly toward her chambers, as if he was as familiar with the castle as she was.
Her bed chamber was deserted. William had seen to that, sending her women away to ‘attend his beloved wife’ himself.
She clung to him as he lowered her to her bed, unwilling to let go of the comforting safety of his arms. He grasped her hands, peeling them gently but firmly from him. She closed her cold fingers around his hands when he would have released her, peering up at him through the swollen slits of her eyes.
A spark of fear went through her as she caught her first real glimpse of him, and even so the shadowy room concealed as much as it revealed. There was beauty in his face, but only the reflection of it from within for his kindness. The face above her was as harsh and craggy as hewn stone. She dismissed the fear. He’d saved her from William at great cost to himself from what he had said. “Do not leave me,” she begged shakily.
He stared down at the hands that gripped his so frantically.
Something flickered in her pale blue eyes. A frown flitted across his face, making it even more harsh. Almost as if he couldn’t help himself, he twisted his hands in hers and ran one thumb lightly over her own where it rested against his broad palm.
He lifted his gaze after a moment, scanning her bruised and battered face, his expression growing harder.
Embarrassed, realizing the same sources of light--the fire in the hearth and the lit candles--that threw him in shadow, illuminated her damaged face, she snatched her hands away and covered the ugly bruises. “I will not tell them,” she whispered. “I would not repay your kindness to me with treachery.”
His expression was stony as he straightened away from her, lifting his head to scan the room around them. Curious, she glanced around, as well.
It was a well appointed room, but she had grown accustomed to the vulgar display of wealth, the rich wall hangings, the dark, heavily carved wood from which the huge columned bed had been wrought, the chest that rested at the foot of the bed, the enormous armoire that took up much of one wall, the benches, table, and high backed chairs. Luscious, thick woven cloths covered the cold stones of the floor. A fireplace, surrounded by slabs of carved stone took up almost the whole of another wall.
She had thought it a place of beauty before she had realized it was her prison.
“Retribution,” he murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth as if trying to discern the flavor of it. His gaze focused on her again. “Nothing can be taken from me that was not already taken,” he growled, his voice cold now.
Bronwyn shivered at the cold anger behind his words. “But … you said you were damned.”
“Long ago … and I have tossed my only hope of redemption from these castle walls to save a pitiful scrap of humanity that means nothing to me,” he ground out.
She could see that he regretted it now, could see confusion in his eyes and his expression as he wrestled with the impulse that had cost him so dearly.
Moistening her fever dried lips, Bronwyn searched for something to say as he turned abruptly and strode toward the door. “Who are you?”
He stopped abruptly at the door and turned to stare at her. “Once....” He broke off. “Nightshade.”
Deception’s Calling
By
Marie Harte
Chapter One
Detective Summer Amora Michaels had never considered herself a prude. She lived every aspect of her exciting, dangerous and energetic life with a spark that naturally drew people, or so her abuela, her grandmother, liked to tell her. But one rainy Thursday night during a humid, hopelessly tedious stakeout, she opened the crooked bathroom door of their safe house and was more than shocked to see her lieutenant naked and dripping wet in a curtainless shower stall that should have been vacant.
He stood under a spray, which due to the rain, blended soundlessly into the bleak atmosphere of “watch and wait.” All six feet, three inches of prime Lieutenant Drake Nichols stared at her intrusion in astonishment, his dark brown hair slicked back off a face too rough to be called handsome but too dramatic to be ignored. Bright gray eyes blazed with shock as water ran greedy fingers over his superbly conditioned body.
She swallowed loudly, unable to tear her gaze from the source of so many speculations and rumors. Hell’s trinkets, but his shoe size did correspond healthily to his--
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarled but made no attempt to cover himself.
Breathing through what felt like a mouth full of cotton, she had to cough to regain her voice. After a short, hopefully unnoticed struggle, she tugged her gaze back up his body to his face, noting the incredulity in his bright, silvery glare.
“Richards asked me to relieve him early.” She casually nodded to the now-empty living room, hoping she looked a lot calmer than she felt. Was it possible to orgasm through sight alone? Oh shit! It’s growing! Focus on his face, on his face. Puhlease, Nichols, cover it up before I forget myself and jump you.
He must have sensed her internal plea for he flushed and half-turned toward the wall of the shower, giving her a mouthwatering view of his amazing, smoothly toned ass.
“For God’s sake, Michaels, put your tongue back in your mouth and throw me a towel.”
Scowling over her blush, she quickly turned around and grabbed the towel hanging off the nearest semi-clean towel bar. Facing the wall, she held the towel toward him with a straight arm.
“Why don’t I wait out there?” she took a step toward the doorway after he’d grabbed the cloth but froze when his large hand settled over her shoulder.
“Not one step,” he growled in a low voice. “You can turn around now, newbie. I won’t bite.”
Well I might if you don’t shelve that attitude, she wanted to say. Instead she turned to face him and kept her mouth shut as tightly as possible, knowing her internal voice had a tendency to outweigh her sense of self-preservation. Newbie, my ass.
“Your shift isn’t until two, and you’re not supposed to be alone.” He spoke in that hard, raspy voice that had every woman under the age of ninety hot for him, except for her, of course. Summer made it a practice never to mix business with pleasure. Looking at him couldn’t hurt though, and she took another subtle once-over.
“My eyes are up here, Michaels.” He smacked his forehead. “Christ, I can’t believe I just said that. What a day.”
She grinned, glad at least she wasn’t the only one aggravated. At his scowl she quickly blanked her expression.
“Richards left early, eh?” He stared thoughtfully at the doorway, then settled hot eyes on her. “Where’s your partner?”
“Going over some forms with Richards in the car,” she answered as succinctly as possible. He’s your boss, get a grip. “Didn’t realize you were in here, sir. With the rain, it’s hard to hear--”
“Never mind.” He ran a hand over his wet hair, his bicep bulging at the motion. She forced herself not to lick her lips hungrily. “I’m going to get dressed and we’re going to pretend this never happened. I’m not giving Richards the satisfaction, got it?”
She nodded vehemently, gratified by the easing of his frown. Quickly exiting the room, she closed the uneven door behind her, aware it never completely shut, temptation temptation, and stood anxiously in the living room.
He met her in less than five minutes, his hair still wet, his clothes stuck to his body in spots. How was it she’d never noticed the breadth of his chest, the extreme strength in his massive arms? Though seeing her boss in jeans and a t-shirt helped square the picture. At work, his drab, dark suits didn’t do the man justice.
She was about to apologize again when a buzzing in her head froze her to the floor. The volume of noise increased until words filtered through the static, and when he would have spoken, she held a hand up to stop him.
Just grab the shit and let’s go. Word has it Spec is out tonight.
Whose word?
I dunno. But I got a bad feeling about it. Like someone’s walking over my grave
Dumbass. We’ll go when I’m good and ready. Where’s the kid?
“Michaels?” Nichols asked quietly.
She shook her head. There was more, she could feel it. And it wasn’t good.
The kid? I thought you said she was okay as long as I kept her blindfolded in the closet?
I changed my mind. She heard my voice. Do her, now.
“They’re going to kill a child.” She tensed, readying herself to jump.
“Not yet.” Nichols did the oddest thing. He touched her forehead and a wave of electricity shot through her body. “Shit.” His voice was husky, filled with power. When he opened his eyes, his gaze was nearly blinding. “Let’s go.”
ARRESTED DESIRES
By
Michelle M Pillow
Chapter One
X Quadrant, Baida Proper, Earthbase 5792461
Juliana Harrison stared at the police officer with a cross between gratefulness and dismay on her face. He didn’t have the classic crew cut she’d seen most officers on the base wear, but his short blond hair was neatly trimmed and his dark blue uniform was immaculate. It had pleats ironed down the front of the pant legs. Like everything else on the Earthbase of Baida Proper the police style was what she liked to think of as retro-Earth, based of the twentieth century as it was back on the planet Earth--except of course for the obvious, like squad cars that hovered not drove and guns that fired lasers not bullets.
Even the houses looked like some old suburban concoction with their mock aluminum siding and picket fences. Most of the residents of the base didn’t realize the historical influence, but Juliana’s father had been an architect and she grew up learning about such things. History had always fascinated her, not that she had gone anywhere with it. No, instead she’d gotten married.
Keeping her eye on the man before her, she continued to study him. Badges and pins adorned the officer’s short sleeve shirt, drawing her eye to the stately symbols, which led her eye down his toned body to the firearm that hung along his waist on a thick leather belt. He was a handsome man, in the militant sort of way most men of the law had about them. Glancing over his muscled chest, she read his metal nametag. It said, “M. Perkins.”
More like Officer Mmm-mmm, perfect. Perfect Perkins.
Officer Perkins had been nice to her since she had walked through the front door of her home, but that didn’t change the fact that he was there to evict her from her own house. His partner, a chubbier version of the tall handsome stud in front of her, had left to get food. She had offered the use of her food simulator, but apparently, there was some office policy about taking bribes of any kind--even something as small as lunch.
Standing in the middle of her living room, Juliana’s whole body shook. How could her husband do this to her? How could he get a restraining order against her? He was the one sleeping with some twenty-year-old bimbo, not her. He was the one asking for a divorce. They’d been married for eight years and now Jeff wanted a divorce. How could he throw what they had away? So, they weren’t happy, but eight years was a lot of time to invest into a marriage. It was a good thing they’d never had kids.
Thankfully, in the eight years of marriage she hadn’t stopped getting her pregnancy shots, which protected her against both pregnancy and disease. They were practically mandatory on Baida Proper anyway and if she’d stopped it would’ve been bad for their image. Though supposedly confidential, things like that had a way of leaking out. Not that she had a reason to be worried about disease. It’s not like Jeff had touched her since he started his extracurricular activities, unless he’d been cheating from the beginning, which was possible. Juliana honestly didn’t know.
She looked at Officer Perkins. Why was she thinking of her shots right now? She wouldn’t allow herself to do anything about her attraction to her personal rescuer. First, she just couldn’t. Even though Jeff had cheated on her, left her, treated her like space dust, she was still technically married and Juliana just wasn’t a cheater, not even in the most extreme circumstances. Second, it had been five years since she’d had sex and she wasn’t sure how to even begin seducing someone, let alone know if she’d do it right once they started. Third, she wouldn’t let herself mistake feelings of gratitude for anything more. It wasn’t fair to anyone. She could easily see how a woman could get attached to a man like M. Perkins.
It’s a good thing we didn’t really have a marriage or this might actually hurt more than annoy.
Juliana really didn’t know why she was surprised. In hindsight, she should have seen it coming. It was a tale as old as time. Wife works while husband finishes degree at prestigious law school. Wife creates beautiful home, entertains husband’s bosses and colleagues, and helps husband secure a partnership within his intergalactic law firm. Husband has mid-life crises, realizes he doesn’t need wife anymore because he’d gotten all the work out of her he could and leaves her for a twenty-year-old with fake, Medical Alliance for Planetary Health created boobs and the IQ of a Lophibian slime trail.
Wait, no, that wasn’t being fair to the slime trail.
Juliana suppressed a laugh at the thought.
The home she had created was hard to leave. Three floors high and one of the most envied mansions on the base, she’d picked out every vase and statue, every retro-Earth carpet and mirror, every holographic painting and mock light fixture. She saw to the cleaning droids, making sure they were programmed right. Okay, she had reprogrammed them when the officer wasn’t looking. Jeff’s slacks would never be pressed the “right way” again. It was a petty, small victory, but one she felt justified in taking.
Even her front lawn, the perfect sculpturing of yellow shrubs and red alien grasses, had been of her doing. Juliana had ordered the red grass. She’d created the weaving design into the naturally lush green grass of Baida Proper to create a work of art on the lawn.
It’s all stuff. It doesn’t matter. She sighed, wishing it was that easy to let it go.
The sad truth was, she wasn’t even that heartbroken over the whole ordeal beyond her beautiful home. If anything, she was aggravated. Jeff should have told her to her face that he wanted her out of the house. Instead, he had used his position in the law firm to evict her. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her to cave so he could divorce her and not lose too many of his precious space credits in the process. She couldn’t remember exactly when it had happened, but Jeff had stopped being a real man sometime along the way. He was now a cowardly little rocket boy.
Continuing to look at the police officer, she bit her lip. Now there was a real man. Maybe that’s what she needed--a strong man who had the balls to take what he wanted. Forget intellect. Forget conversation. She needed to get laid.
Only she couldn’t allow herself to think like that, need to or not.
“Mrs. Harrison,” Officer Perkins said. His voice was soft with the touch of a leisured off planet drawl, giving away the fact that he wasn’t originally from the Earthbase. He’d been nice enough to call in a favor for her, having some movers take her boxes to a private storage unit a friend of his owned since she had no where else to store her belongings. “Your court allotted time is about up. Is there anything else?”
Juliana couldn’t speak. She’d spent nearly two hours packing her belongings with Officer Perkins’ help. It was more time than she’d spent in the same room with Jeff in the last two months and that was including nights asleep in bed.
There was just something about the lawman. A kindness she saw in his expression when he looked at her. It had been a long time since she saw a man with such soulful eyes, such obviously deep emotions. Funny how she could know Jeff for years and not feel connected to him, at least not anymore, but then meet someone like M. Perkins who instantly seemed like an old friend. When he gave her another of his brief smiles, she saw the cutest little dimple on his cheek.
Juliana let her gaze roam over his firm ass as he turned around, as if looking for more boxes. Was it wrong to think the man helping to kick her out of her house was incredibly sexy? As long as it had been since she and Jeff had slept together, she’d probably think a clown handing out balloons at the local drugstore was sexy. No, a clown didn’t look so delectably authoritative in a uniform.
I’ve never wanted to be arrested so much in my life. If I confess to something, will he frisk me?
Juliana took a deep breath, trying to cool her suddenly overheated body. Was it wrong to have sordid thoughts about the man helping to evict her? It wasn’t as if she blamed him for what was happening. She’d chosen to marry Jeff, even if she’d been pressured by both of their affluent families to do so. It had practically been an arranged marriage. Juliana took a deep breath. She was tired of being the good girl, tired of doing what was expected. In fact, she wanted to be bad.
And she wanted Officer Perkins to be the one to “catch” her doing it.
Mm, intergalactic cops and space pirates. Who says kid games can’t be played by adults?
Officer Perkins was easy to talk to. He knew about art and music--not classical, but the good stuff. Old rock n’ roll. When he was packing her books, he’d clearly read more than just a few of them. And, somehow, he actually made her feel as if everything would work out fine. The world couldn’t look anymore bleak for her than it did on this day, and she still somehow managed to feel all right.
Juliana suppressed a grimace. She was doing it again, thinking thoughts she shouldn’t.
“You haven’t contacted anyone.” Perkins sounded concerned as he once again faced her. “Do you have some place to go?”
“My parents are both deceased and I have no other family. My husband cancelled access to our space credit account this morning,” Juliana said. She’d been trying to buy a new dress from one of the traveling pavilions that was on base for a week and the snooty young sales girl had looked at her like she was a pauper when her credit was denied. That was how she’d found out something was wrong. When she got home, Officer Sexy was waiting for her.
“Do you have any friends that you can call?”
“No. There’s no one. The women I know somewhat well enough to impose upon are married to my husband’s colleagues. It would be too awkward for them to take me in, being as I’m the soon to be ex of a partner. I don’t want to put them into that position.”
“Ma’am, I’m really sorry about this,” Perkins said, giving another delectable, yet sympathetic smile. He had nice teeth, perfect for nibbling. Glancing down at his waist, she saw where he kept his handcuffs. Maybe she could be the intergalactic cop and he the space pirate. Hearing his voice breaking into her thoughts, she realized he was still talking. She blinked, forcing herself to focus as he continued. “But Mr. Harrison has got a restraining order on you. He claims you’ve been threatening his life.”
Juliana looked down at her slender, five foot four frame. “Have you seen Mr. Harrison? He’s six-foot-five and works out every day at the cyber gym.”
Yeah, with his girlfriend.
Though, she did know there were ways to kill people without resorting to strength, but for Jeff to say that she was capable of harming anyone, even his own sorry ass, was laughable. Here she was, abandoned, and she couldn’t even fathom truly going through with cheating on him during the last breaths of their dying marriage.
“Ma’am, I didn’t say that I believed the charges just that I have to escort you off of the premises. Law is law.”
“Just doing your job, right?” She gave a derisive laugh. Seeing the look on his face, she said, “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. You’ve been very kind today. I guess there’s a homeless shelter on base somewhere. Or an alien hostel maybe? I know they have those kinds of things on Nozando because the hover limo used to drive by one when I was vacationing there during an Interplanetary Law Conference.”
Juliana sighed, frustrated.
“Do you keep any kind of local currency in the house?” he asked.
Juliana chuckled. “I already looked. He’s taken it all--except for the little I have in my purse. He’s even hidden my jewelry. I’ll be able to get it back in court I’m sure, but in the meantime…”
Juliana shrugged. What could she say? She supposed crying was always an option, but somehow she just felt relief that it was finally over. No use pretending to feel something when she didn’t. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She was finally free.
Only, what did she do with the freedom?
“I have a spare bedroom.” His eyes met hers briefly and it looked like he was trying not to stare. The words were hesitant, but sincere. Could it be Officer Sexy found her as attractive as she did him? Was the electricity between them more than one sided? Hope leapt in her heart even as desire built within her. “It’s not much, but it’s just me in the house so there’s plenty of room. You can’t be much safer than at a cop’s house.”
He gave a small laugh. She looked at him, almost mystified that he would suggest it. Glancing at his hand, not for the first time, she searched for a wedding ring. There was none.
“It’s just that I’ve seen the shelters. I don’t think you’d be comfortable there, ma’am. Maybe after a good night’s rest or two, you’ll think of somewhere else you can go. I’ll even go to the hardware store and buy you a lock for the guest room door if you’re worried. If anyone asks, tell them you’re renting an apartment from me.”
Juliana let her gaze dip briefly over him. It was easy to tell he took care of himself. What was it about a uniform that made sexy men look even sexier? Her life was falling apart and all she could think about was finding a way to celebrate. “Tell me, officer. Do you usually invite strangers into your home?”
“Call it Southern hospitality,” he said. “My momma raised me right.”
She quirked a brow at that. “I’ve been to South and I can’t say they’d invite strangers off the street into their homes.”
“You haven’t been to the right parts then, ma’am. Leastways, I’ve been doing this job for a little over eight years. If anything, I’ve learned how to read people. Besides,” he gave her a lopsided grin in an obvious effort to cheer her up, “I know self defense if you try anything funny.”
Juliana couldn’t believe it. Here this man was inviting her into his home and she was actually considering it. Slowly, she nodded. What choice did she have? “Despite what it looks like today, my mother didn’t raise a fool either. I know not to pass up a generous offer when I need it most. Thank you, Officer Perkins. I will gladly stay with you.”
“Name’s Maverick, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Maverick.” She gave one last glance around her home. “You can call me Juliana.”
THE WOLF OF CNOC
MEADHA
By
Sherrill Quinn
Chapter One
“Where are you?”
Queen Una of the Daoine Sidhe passed her hand over the Well of Sight again and again, the scenes before her changing with each motion. First a small village near the sea, then a bustling city, a faery ring, a park with a lovely, placid lake ... but she didn’t find what she was looking for.
She searched for MacKenzie McCallum, a young woman for whom she felt a particular responsibility because it was her fault the lass had been exiled to the human realm nearly two hundred years before.
But at least wee MacKenzie had been given the chance to live as a human instead of a dog. Una had changed her from a wolfhound to a woman all those many years ago ... granted, it had been done in a fit of pique against King Finnbheara, and extending MacKenzie's life sevenfold may have pushed the boundaries a bit, but still ...
The lass should be embracing life with every breath, though Una was sure MacKenzie was moping about somewhere like some sort of bridge troll. “She cannae expect normal when she used to be a dog,” Una muttered.
Her oldest son, Connor, walked into the room. “Who’re you spying on now?” he asked with a smile on his handsome face. His deep tones reflected the cultured schooling he’d received in the human realm, although his voice still carried the lilt of the Sidhe. He was tall and strong, the best warrior the Fae had.
And that quickly, she knew a way to help both of these wayward children. Connor would be just the thing for MacKenzie. Una would use her son’s kind heart against him, as it were, but for his own good, of course.
“I don’t think I like the look on your face.” One dark eyebrow rose as he slowed his pace. The lad acted as if he didn’t want to get too close to her.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. The males of her race were so suspicious. Of course, it wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that the women of the Daoine Sidhe were known to be a sneaky lot.
“Why, Connor, me love. Whatever do ye mean?” Una pasted what she hoped was an innocent look on her face which, by the dark expression on his, failed woefully.
“You’re up to something. I recognize that look in your eyes.” He narrowed his gaze. “You and your machinations. Whose life are you about to make miserable now?”
“Oh, go on wi’ ye.” She smiled and patted him on the cheek as if he were a wee boy in knee britches. The gesture would throw him off. “Ye’re just too distrustful, is what ye are.”
Sure enough, a scowl crossed his features, showing why he was sometimes called Faolchú Cnoc Meadha--The Wolf of Cnoc Meadha. Where most of the Daoine Sidhe were of fair complexion, he sported the darkest of hair and had skin with a tawny cast. And while the others of the trooping faeries were glad of heart, Connor tended to be serious and brooding. She’d have thought he was a Changeling had she not birthed the
lad herself.
Then, of course, there was the matter of his curse ...
And if that wasn’t enough for the lad to bear, here he was with one blue eye and one brown. Both of which were narrowed on her at this very moment.
She pretended reluctance. “Weel ...” Waving her hand over the Well, she created a picture from her memory, and pointed to a lovely young woman with short, curly blonde hair and sparkling eyes the deep blue of the ocean. “See that lass there?” She watched him lean in for a closer look.
“Aye.” He nodded, his gaze intent upon the young woman.
Una gripped her fingers together to keep from clapping in glee. He was interested. So like his da, he was. Show him a pretty face, and other interesting bits and pieces, and he couldna look at anything else.
Of course, Connor had more moral fortitude than did his da. She knew her son. Once he committed himself to something, he stayed committed. He was perfect for MacKenzie. “I’ve lost track of her. It’s important I make sure she’s doin’ all right.”
When she didn’t go on, her son shot her a look of impatience. “Why?” he prompted.
This is where it could get tricky. She crossed her fingers behind her back. “The poor thing has spent the last several years pinin’ for a cure.”
“For what?” he asked, staring intently at the young woman.
Victory was close at hand. Una fought to keep her feet still; she so wanted to dance in glee. “Her loneliness and isolation; the grief she refuses to acknowledge at bein’ exiled to the realm of humans.” Una heaved a sigh, looking at her son from under her lashes. “It would mean the world to me if ye’d find her, lad. Just to set me mind at ease that she’s doin’ well.”
Connor trailed a long finger across the surface of the water, making the young woman’s image ripple. He seemed deep in thought, a frown pulling again at his brow. Finally he asked, “But if she’s Fae, I’d be a danger to her.”
“Oh, she’s no’ Fae, Connor, no’ really. I dinna think ye’d be putting her in any danger.” She made sure she maintained a mixture of concern and hope on her face. He was such a stubborn man. Got that trait from his da, he did.
“We’re still a day away from the full moon anyway,” he replied in an absentminded way, still staring at the image of the lass in the Well.
Una wondered at his thoughts. She knew what he saw: a petite woman with a pixie face, stubborn chin and slender body, dressed in a knit top and flirty skirt.
“It shouldn’t take long, should it?” He trailed his finger in the water again, not taking his eyes off the reflection of the young woman.
“Weel, ye could also be about findin’ the woman who can break yer curse.” Una laid one hand on her son’s brawny forearm. When he made to draw away from her, she tightened her fingers. “It’s past time, Connor. Ye deserve some happiness, too.”
His jaw clenched, the muscles twitching, then he relaxed, though his face remained solemn. “Now’s not the time to be looking, Mother. One more day and the full moon is upon me; I’ll kill anything Fae that comes across my path.”
Una’s heart clenched at the misery that had been visited upon her eldest child. The three nights of the full moon were the worst for him, a time when he could not control his beast. When the moon rose full and bright, and bathed the night in its silvery glow, Connor shifted into a werewolf. Because he would attack any of the Daoine Sidhe in that condition, the king forbade him to be anywhere within the Fae lands.
And so he was banished to the human realm for those three days.
“Then ye’ve no worries here, for this one isna Fae. Well, no’ much, she isn’t. No’ enough to put her in danger,” she said, and pointed back at the image in the Well. “The wee lass has been living under assumed names for just about the entire time she’s been in the human realm.” She shook her head, wincing a little to remember MacKenzie’s incredible sadness after she’d found and lost love. “She fell in love with a young man an’ they were married. Then he died from a lingering illness and … weel, she’s been alone ever since.”
Una pursed her lips and tapped one finger against her chin. “The last I knew, she was goin’ by the name Bridget O’Neill. An’, of course, she could have changed her appearance as well. Two hundred years with humans is a long time for someone who ages very slowly.” Una slid her hand up to his wide shoulder and patted it, trying to comfort this wild child of hers, this man so full of sorrow.
As if being the heir to the Daoine Sidhe throne weren’t enough, he was destined to carry a beast within him the rest of his days. Unless a cure could be found.
This had to work. The son of King Finnbheara had borne his curse too long.
With a wave of her hand, she brought up a closer view of the young woman. “This is how I remember her, the last time I ‘saw’ her. But,” she said in a soft voice, laying her hand in the crook of his elbow, “you should have no worries. A day is plenty o’ time. All ye need to do is find her, talk to her, show her what a wonderful life she has, now that she’s human.”
“Now that she’s ...” he cocked one brow. “And she used to be ... ?”
“Oh, she was such a lovely wolfhound.”
MORPHEUS
By
Alicia Sparks
Prologue
Piano music drifted up to anyone who at 3 AM couldn’t sleep. Anna stood on the edge of the third floor railing, her arms folded over the banister as she closed her eyes, allowing the music to enrapture her as his image filled her mind.
The stoic figure in black sat at the piano, his long coattail sweeping the floor behind him. His head was thrown back in an appearance of creative agony as his long white fingers glided across the keys, demanding obedience from the ivory keys.
Opening her eyes, she wondered why a lone creature would seek out the hotel lobby at such an hour. Weren’t there rules against noise? If there were, no one seemed to notice or care as the night clerk nodded off against her hand.
The ice bucket at Anna’s feet was forgotten amid the late-night scene. Everything about the man fascinated her--from his lone presence to the sad melody pouring from the piano.
His long, dark hair twisted into a mass of curls that brushed against his lower back, swaying as his shoulder moved, forcing his arms, his fingers, then the keys to cry out his anguish.
In another place and time, he might have been the phantom captured by a songstress whose beauty infected his soul. Tonight, he was an alabaster god, crying out for a goddess to end his loneliness. Tonight, she wished she were such a woman.
Instead of spending time on fancies that would not come to pass, she pushed away from the banister, knocking over the ice bucket as she moved. Crystal slivers and cubes spilled onto the paisley rug the second the music stopped.
As she bent over to retrieve the ice, her breath hung in her throat, and her heart refused to beat as he stood to his full height and moved silently from the piano. One hand closed over an ice cube. As the cool chill crept into her body, she blinked. When she opened her eyes, the figure in black had disappeared.
Tossing the remaining cubes into the bucket, she made a quick escape into her room, her heart pounding as if she were being pursued by the past, chased by demons whose faces she couldn’t see when she was awake. All the while, she couldn’t shake his music from her head. Nor could she erase the solemn figure who seemed to be in mourning.
Placing the ice bucket on the desk, all she felt was loneliness permeating her body. His loneliness, her loneliness, the heartbreak of living ....
Though they didn’t speak that night, Anna came to know the soul residing in his body and knew instinctually that she would see the man again. Something had called her out of her room that night in Memphis. That same something drove her to take the job at Metal Alloy, a magazine specializing in rock music .... That same force placed her directly in the path of the reluctant rock star the world only knew as Grey. It was more than just intuition. Something deeper than “a feeling” drove her to find a way to become closer to him.
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