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PHOENIX RISING II
With stories by
Angelique Anjou
Elizabeth Batten-Carew
Jaycee Clark
Donna Grant
Mandy M. Roth
Pleasure Master © copyright October 2006, Angelique Anjou
Debt of Honor © copyright October 2006, Elizabeth Batten-Carew
Contact © copyright October 2006, Jaycee Clark
Prince of Desire © copyright October 2006, Donna Grant
Mating Behavior © copyright October 2006, Mandy M. Roth
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.
Pleasure Master
By
Angelique Anjou
Chapter One
There was an air of almost hysterical excitement threading the party in progress in the dining/rec hall of the space station dubbed Last Stop by the crew. Jubilation filled the hearts of even the most levelheaded and serious among the twenty souls aboard the station on the outer rim of the solar system officially named SP-13, Staging Platform 13. And, although, technically, there was supposed to be a skeleton crew on duty to monitor the myriad of specialized equipment that had just come fully online, in actuality everyone was partying.
Medical Officer, Anya Rambo felt a stirring of uneasiness as she spied three more of the duty crew slipping into the room and sidling as unobtrusively as possible toward the spiked punch bowl.
That made it unanimous. There wasn't a single soul on board the space station that hadn't imbibed--including her. She was never really off duty, however, since she was the only medic on the station and she never drank more than 'sociably', not as sociably as some people who called themselves social drinkers. Rather, she accepted the drink handed to her and sipped it slowly and rarely indulged in more than one, even when she was technically off duty.
She'd learned from hard experience that she couldn't afford, ever, to completely relax because the moment she decided to behave irresponsibly someone got sick or someone got hurt.
With a strenuous effort, she shook off her uneasiness. The shields were up and besides, they were at the very frontier of open space. It was highly unlikely that anything could possibly go wrong--now.
When they'd arrived at the space station nearly a year ago to replace the previous crew, the station had only been about seventy five percent complete. They'd been expected to bring SP-13 up to one hundred percent completion within the year, and they'd done it in ten and half months.
They had every reason to celebrate. Not only had they brought the job in weeks early, but now they could look forward to going home.
Anya felt her own pulse quicken at the thought.
Only three months and she'd feel real gravity pulling at her again, be breathing real air, not tanked in--sort of. At least once she set foot on Terra Firma again, she could walk outside if only briefly. It'd be fall, her favorite time of the year. In the deep south where she'd grown up, it would still be hot during the day, but pleasantly crisp at night. The leaves on the trees would be turning. The sunsets would be stunning.
Wryly, she smiled. It was the little girl still in her that got such a thrill out of the fall. Fall was festival time. The fairs and carnivals made their rounds. And then there were the holidays.
Ironically, even though the ancient mythologies that had spawned the celebrations were all but forgotten by the vast majority of those who celebrated them, everyone still hailed the holidays with enthusiasm.
She did, even though she hadn't had anyone much to celebrate with in years. Her family hadn't exactly been prolific and those still living were scattered to the four winds.
She made it a point to join her sister's family when she could, though, and sometimes her brother even made it to the 'gathering'.
Her niece and nephew weren't going to know her when she got back. They'd been so young when she left, she knew they wouldn't remember their Aunt Anya. The thought caused her a pang and she pushed it aside, smiling as Laine caught her eye across the room and began to make his way toward her.
Captain Tim Laine had more than his fair share of charm, and he'd been kind enough to bestow it upon Anya at every opportunity. She wasn't really interested in becoming another notch on his bedpost, though.
Well--she was. She found him attractive. Unfortunately, their community was a painfully small one, too small for such a thing to go unnoticed. And Laine had already made the rounds among the other female crewmembers--a couple of times. She didn't mind the idea of recreational sex. In fact, she was damned horny and the punch wasn't helping, but she preferred a privacy that was non-existent aboard the space station. She supposed that made her a spoil sport, because half the fun everyone had on board was gossiping about who was getting it.
They called her the Ice Maiden behind her back, and they weren't terribly subtle about it either. She viewed the sobriquet with a mixture of irritation and amusement, mostly because it was so childish. One would think people would eventually outgrow the inclination to call names, but obviously they never did.
"I'm surprised you joined us, but glad," Laine murmured as he reached her, giving her one of his practiced 'undressing' gazes.
As certain as she was that it was practiced, Anya still felt her pulse jump upwards a notch.
He was good. She'd give him that. It didn't hurt that he was also pretty much the best looking male on the space station--not that he had a lot of competition in that department. The crew hadn't been chosen for their appearance but rather their expertiece and beauty so rarely went with brains!
She smiled coolly. "Mmm. Even the Ice Maiden likes punch," she responded a little tartly, knowing he was the one who'd first coined the name the crew enjoyed bandying about behind her back.
He had the grace to redden slightly. He shrugged. "If the name bothers you …."
Anya chuckled. "I've got nothing to prove. But thanks for offering."
He frowned, taking a long drink from his glass. "Recreational sex is good for morale."
"But I'm a bitch," she reminded him. "You know, cold. And I'm sort of choosy about who I let inside of me."
His good humor vanished. "You are aware that it's expected?"
"Unofficially, of course."
"They told me you weren't a team player."
Anya chuckled, but shrugged. "Individuality still isn't a crime, though. As I said, I'm picky, and I'm just not so needy for release that I'm willing to take what's available. I can wait."
Anger glittered in his eyes, but he kept his face a mask of amusement. "Mind if I ask who you're saving it for?"
"No."
"Who?"
She smiled at him. "I said I didn't mind if you asked. I didn't say I'd answer. Exuse me? I think I'll just go check and make sure the duty crew's still sober enough to read their instrument panels."
That comment really ticked him off. As taken aback as he was by her abrupt departure, he fell into step beside her as she left the rec room and headed down the corridor toward main operations. "You're overstepping your bounds, Rambo," he said tightly.
Anya sent him a look of surprise that was only partly feigned. "You object to me checking to make sure we don't have a drunk manning the monitors?"
His lips tightened. "Nobody's had more than two drinks."
"So you did see them sneaking in to imbibe?"
He caught her arm, dragging her to a stop and pulling her around to face him. "I know my duties," he ground out.
"Well, if my checking on them is just going to piss …." She didn't get the rest of the sentence out. The station's alarm system blared to life deafeningly.
It went through both of them like a current of electricity. For a split second, they merely stared at one another in shock. Abruptly, their brains kicked into gear almost simultaneously and they whirled and charged down the corridor to the nearest emergency suit storage. Diving through the door even as it opened, they managed to wedge themselves in momentarily.
The hysterical urge to giggle rose threateningly in Anya's throat as they struggled for a moment and finally managed to separate. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a suit and began to scramble into it. In the corridor outside, despite the earsplitting alarm, she heard the stampede of racing feet. Moments later the rest of the crew, as white faced and shaken as she was, bottle necked in the doorway for several moments before they succeeded in untangling themselves and began to spill into the small room.
About half of them were well on their way to being drunk--drunk enough they were having problems staying on their feet and figuring out closures. Directly beside her, Melanie giggled drunkenly as she lost her balance and fell into the wall of suits, landing on the floor with one foot in the sleeve of her suit.
The incident killed Anya's own hysteria. She stared indecisively at Melanie for a split second and finally knelt to help her get into her suit. In the close confines, it was no easy task, particularly when Melanie was in no state to be much help. Leaving her to figure out the closure for herself once she had her arms and legs in the suit, Anya wove her way down the line and grabbed two air tanks and helmets, securing her own and checking her air gauge before she headed back to help Melanie.
Captain Laine grabbed her arm when she reached Melanie again. "Make sure everyone's in their suits and the suits are functioning properly," he said curtly.
Anya nodded, but he hadn't stayed to make sure she understood the order. As soon as he'd issued it he began to shove his way toward the door and disappeared into the corridor. A little more than half the crew managed to get into their suits without help. Most of them dashed out, however, the moment they'd suited up. Anya managed to waylay four and directed them to help the less fortunate crew members, but the moment they'd finished, they eluded her and dashed off.
Furious to be left to manage a half dozen thoroughly intoxicated crew members by herself, Anya made a stab at corralling them in the Rec room and finally gave up when she saw the impossibility of controlling them.
The alarm was reset. Her ears numb from the sudden cessation of blaring noise, Anya headed for main operations.
Operations was in chaos when she finally reached it. Realizing almost at once that it was a waste of time to try to ask anyone what was going on, she found a place out of the way and listened and observed.
"Where the hell did it come from?"
"How big is it?"
"About a meter wide, two long, half a meter deep. It's regular. Too regular to be a meteor."
"A probe?"
"Can't tell."
"From it's trajectory I'd say we'll be up close and personal pretty soon."
"Is it going to hit us?" Laine demanded sharply.
Carol's face was white as she looked up at him. "I … it looks like it."
Anya felt the blood freeze in her veins. The shields were up, but they hadn't been designed to withstand the impact of anything that big. They hadn't expected to have to worry about anything but micro meteors--and not really that, if the truth be told.
"Fuck! Fire the engines and see if we can move this fat, clumsy bitch out of it's way!"
"Engine one firing! Two firing! Three firing!"
A faint quiver went through the floor.
Everyone held their breath.
"Engine four?" Captain Laine demanded, obviously too impatient to wait any longer.
"Misfire!"
"Reset, god damn it!"
"It's not responding."
"Fuck! Did you check that damned engine or not?"
"It was working fine when we checked it, Sir!"
Captain Laine stalked across the bridge and shoved the ensign out of the way, checking the instrument panel himself. On his third try he managed to get the engine to fire.
Anya was only slightly relieved, however. The SP-13 was a space platform, meant to remain in orbit, not fly. Even with every engine firing it seemed unlikely they could move the unwieldy thing out of the way in time to do them any good.
DEBT OF HONOR
By
Elizabeth Batten-Carew
Chapter One
Angelica couldn't believe that hopping off a plane during a refueling stop to search for one-of-a-kind souvenirs could lead to so much trouble.
She sat staring at the glossy mahogany desktop in front of her, wishing she still wore the light, cotton sundress she'd donned this morning. The unaccustomed heat pressed down on her like a heavy blanket, smothering her last few ounces of energy. She scooped up her long hair so the breeze from the overhead fan would cool her neck. The small relief it gave seemed an intense pleasure compared to the rest of this dreadful day, and she closed her eyes to savor it. This long, robe thing she'd been forced to wear covered too much of her, as far as she was concerned. She'd undone the top few buttons, but perspiration glazed her back and dripped down between her breasts.
Why hadn't she stayed on that darned plane?
She heard the door behind her open, and then close with a firm thump. Despite her curiosity, she sat still in the stiff, wooden chair, determined not to glance around.
Who was it this time? Hopefully, not those two goons who had dragged her here. She had explained to them that she'd done nothing wrong, that in fact, she'd been the victim of a robbery, but they'd barely understood a word she'd said or they'd chosen not to. She couldn't be sure.
They'd kept her sitting here for at least two hours, with no regard to her comfort. Right now, she should be safely aboard her homeward bound flight to Toronto. Asleep.
The newcomer's presence seeped through the room, filling her with tension. As the seconds drifted by, curiosity overwhelmed her.
She twisted around to look.
The man who stared back at her was the most sinfully gorgeous man she'd ever seen. Raw masculinity emanated from his tall, muscular body. His dark hair flowed to his broad shoulder in waves, accentuating his square jaw, softened by full, yet masculine lips.
He had the most stunning eyes. Intense. Dark. Penetrating.
And intimidating.
His gaze swept over her, making a few stops along the way. On the open buttons down the front, making her intensely conscious of the fact that, at the angle he saw her, the swell of her right breast was visible. On the sash she'd added to cinch this loose, frumpy robe at the waist. On her crossed legs. She had pulled the robe up to her knees in an attempt to cool off, knowing she revealed less leg than she had in her sundress, yet suddenly she felt shamelessly brazen.
Finally, his gaze pivoted to her face. The intensity of it disturbed her.
He strode across the room and settled behind the desk, laying a manila folder in front of him.
"Who are you? And why am I here?" she demanded.
"I am Kadin and I am the one who will ask questions."
His voice was quiet, but filled with authority. The fact that he spoke English sent a wave of relief through her, followed immediately by frustration. She had a dozen or more questions to ask. She'd already missed her flight out of here, and her wallet, passport, and luggage had been stolen. She still had her purse, at least, she had until they'd brought her here and confiscated it, but she had no money.
Where would she stay tonight? How would she buy a ticket to get another flight home? And if she succeeded in getting a ticket, how would she get across the border without a passport?
Her frustration turned quickly to anger. "Look, I was dragged here against my will and I demand that--
"Silence." His eyes flared to a fiery black. "After what you have done, you have no right to demand anything."
"What I've done?" she shot back, ignoring the chill rushing down her spine at his intimidating tone. "I haven't done anything. You don't seem to understand --"
"I understand very well." His sharp glare fixed on her as he extended his arm toward her.
A large green pendant on a gold chain hung from his hand. An emerald. Actually, the largest emerald she'd ever seen. She reached out to touch it, but he snatched it into his fist.
"This is Dhiya's. As are the clothes you wear now," he stated flatly.
Her eyes widened. "So you know who robbed me." Relief washed through her. "I guess that means you've caught her. Great. I'd really like to get my things and ..."
His dark eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Don't play me for a fool. Why was my beloved Dhiya's pendant in your purse? Why was she seen boarding a plane wearing your clothes, traveling on your ticket, using your passport?"
Her jaw tightened. She didn't like the sound of this. This situation looked like trouble with a capital 'T.' She had to straighten this guy out right now.
"I already explained to the other men that I went into the washroom and this woman--"
He slammed his fist on the desk, the sharp sound reverberating through the room like a gunshot.
"Silence!"
She gulped back the rest of her explanation and stared at him. Quietly.
"That's better. Now, you will listen."
He stepped from behind the desk and paced, his hands folded behind his back. His white robes billowed as he strode back and forth.
"As I see it, there are two possibilities. One, you were involved in kidnapping Dhiya and transporting her out of the country. Two, you helped Dhiya at her request, taking her necklace as payment. Either way, you are in grave trouble. Both are an insult to me and my family."
She shook her head in disbelief, knowing she had to set him straight.
"She robbed me at gunpoint."
"Dhiya would never touch a gun."
"But--"
"--if you were a man, there would be many options open to me to exact justice."
He sat on the edge of his desk facing her, his arms crossed over his chest.
Her heart hammered loudly and the muscles in her chest tightened painfully. Just what did he intend to do to her? She'd heard of officials in these small countries throwing people into prison for years because of some inadvertent transgression. She pictured herself stuck in a grimy jail cell, sharing scraps of food with rats.
"But I cannot bring myself to be so harsh with a woman." He watched her with those coal-black eyes.
She let out a sigh of relief. She'd never wanted to use her gender as an advantage, but right now, she had no such qualms.
"What …?" Her voice came out choked, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "What do you intend to do with me?"
He stared at her for a long moment and his gaze slipped past her chin to her chest. She raised her hand to toy with the top button of the robe, at least the top button that was still fastened.
A drop of perspiration glided slowly down her neck. Like a breath of fire grazing her skin, his gaze seared her as he followed the progress of the drop as it forged a path down her chest, then disappeared between her breasts. He lingered on the swell of flesh peeking from the deep neckline. He might as well have been caressing her breasts physically for the affect he was having on her. Her nipples pebbled, hardening and peaking against the thin fabric.
Awareness shimmered through her, of his overwhelming masculinity, and of just how vulnerable she was.
His gaze shifted to her face.
"To repay the debt of dishonor, you will serve me."
"What do you mean 'serve you'? "
"You will warm my bed. Tonight, and for as many nights as I see fit."
CONTACT
By
Jaycee Clark
Prologue
He scanned the forums. Forums were the way of the future. Forget meeting new people at work, no one wanted to really meet people at work. Everyone had their own lives, their own agendas, their own secrets. Thanks to the Internet, he could partake in his secrets any time he saw fit. Forums--the new meeting grounds for friends, family, hookups, and dates. Soul mates. He snorted, as if there were such a thing. He scanned the photos of the ones he'd chosen.
There were five possible right now. He'd eliminated several already. The women were so--he looked again at their pictures--pretty.
And interested in friends, in finding boyfriends, in dating.
He took a drink of his Sumatra and grimaced. It was cold and just a tad bitter now. He hated it cold. Sighing, he leaned back and continued to peruse his latest contestants.
The computer age was simply the best in his opinion. How did those great ones before him find their victims? Find the ones to hunt?
All he had to do was boot up and log on to his account in any given forum he'd joined, whether it be a dating one, a friend one, and all inclusive, a 'look at me, I'm so and so' one or any he might join in the future. The possibilities were endless. This current forum was a rather all inclusive one that really needed some help on it's navigation, if anyone asked him--which they hadn't. But confusing navigation around the site or not, this was the hottest, easiest pickings he'd found yet. He grinned. There were just so damn many. There were always those that wanted to be added to his contact list. Adds … Contacts.
Perfect hunting grounds.
He only had to read their profiles to see if they'd fit his needs, and, if they did, well, more's the pity for them. Wonderful thrills for him. He smiled to himself. Wonderful thrills for him.
He put his headphones on and glanced around the coffee Internet bar. Several were already cruising sites, already busily working on whatever held their attention.
His attention was focused on sweet little Jacqueline--blonde hair and blue eyes. Innocence smiled out at him. From Nebraska, attending Trinidad University here in San Antonio, Texas. He scanned her bio, her general likes and dislikes. She went to school at a small town--probably farmer's daughter--then went onto college miles and miles away from the safe haven of mom and pop.
Far from home. In the big bad world. And it was a big bad world. Most never saw that. Most thought they could get away from things. Most never even saw him.
He glanced around, he was just another person drinking his cup of Sumatra dark roast and tapping at the keyboard and inhaling second hand smoke from some of the old regulars or those that simply thought they were cool. He was just another guy there. A nobody to most.
He had a girlfriend, but, as had happened in the past when he tried out relationships, he was bored.
And this, he thought, looking at Jacqueline's sweet blue eyes, this was so damn fun. So damn easy.
It had started as a game with some friends one drunk and bored night back in college. What if ….
What if you were hunting people for whatever purpose, where would you hunt them? Where would you find what you wanted? The computer was everyone's answer. Most thought in terms of finding a lost friend, of locating missing loved ones, of seeing how many out there had the same name as them.
But not him. He thought of it differently, never saw the question through the stupidly naïve eyes of the others. No, he'd seen the possibilities.
He spent enough time on the Web that he knew the newest fads, the newest hangouts for people of all ages. And they all had one thing in common, Web sites, blogs, forums, they all let people give out information that should never be given out.
He grimaced. Hell they thought this in No Talking to Strangers 101, or even in Kindergarten for the love of God. But did any heed the advice so readily given on the safety of Internet information? No.
So he took advantage of that.
And he had learned how to weed out the liars from the naïve. Never stupid. Okay, perhaps they were stupid, but that was neither here nor there. If they wanted to be dumb enough to put their birthdays, their names, schools, work place, it was all but begging him to locate them, to find them … to hunt them.
He only hunted the ones he wanted, the pretty ones, the interesting ones, the ones who called to him. And, of course, they had to fit within driving distance for him.
At least he wasn't some sort of sick psycho who preyed on little kids. He clicked his way past another profile filled with photos of the member's children.
Idiots. Didn't anyone understand how easy it was to find what a person such as himself found interesting? How easy it was then to locate someone if you wanted them badly enough?
He shook his head at the stupidity of parents wanting to show off the smiling faces of their ball-players, ballerinas, and little tots.
At least he only hunted women. He had his morals after all.
He perused the list of requested contacts, deleted those he didn't want to add, and added those who interested him to his friends.
Sweet Jacqueline. Time for her would come.
THE ROYAL CHRONICLES 1:
PRINCE OF DESIRE
By
Donna Grant
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.
Chapter One
Summer, 1268
Somewhere in the Highlands of Scotland
After years of searching, he had finally found her.
After weeks of watching, he would now have her.
Lucian Sinclair inhaled the cool, crisp air of the Highlands. He had waited for this day for as long as he could remember. Ever since his father, King Urises, had told his sons they must find their mates before the fifth moon of the Harvest year, Lucian had prepared for this day.
Drahcir, his homeland, was deep in the heart of the Ben Nevis Mountains. A land so secret that no one knew of its existence, and it was essential to its survival that it continue that way.
Centuries ago, a scorned Fae princess cursed their small kingdom. Since that black day, the princes and princesses of the royal house had been forced to seek their eternal mates and convince them to return to the kingdom, or the city and its occupants would cease to exist.
Already Lucian had spent nearly two years searching for his mate, but now that he had found her, he wanted to make sure he treaded slowly in approaching her. Thankfully, time moved slower in his hidden city, allowing him the time he needed to accomplish his mission.
He watched as she finished cleaning the tables in the small tavern, her glorious brown hair hanging down her back in a thick braid. Her laughter drifted to him through the open window as she and the owner's wife talked and put the last chair atop the table.
Her aura, that had led him to her, glowed bright and solid despite her meager living and tired, slender body. Soon he would take her away from all this. Very soon.
His hand flexed on the hilt of his sword as she waved good-bye to the owners and walked from the tavern. She passed within strides of him as he hid in the shadows. Lucian waited until she had ventured down the road that led to her small cottage before he whistled for his stallion. His horse came immediately, and he hurriedly mounted.
It was everything Lucian could do not to snatch her up and carry her away with him to Drahcir, yet she must enter the gates of the kingdom willingly or all would be lost. Many times he had cursed that rule the Fae had put into place, but they were bound to it just as they were bound to the hidden city.
He kept a firm hand on the reins as Aled pranced beneath him, eager for a run. Lucian counted to ten then loosened the reins to give the stallion his head. He loved the night and everything about it, both the velvety darkness and the brightness of the moon, both the sounds and the peace.
They had traveled nearly halfway to his mate's cottage when he heard the male laughter ... and then the ear piercing scream.
He knew in his soul the cry belonged to his mate. With a growl, he unsheathed his sword and nudged the stallion into a run.
The wind whipped at his hair and cloak as the ground raced beneath him. His blood froze in his veins as he realized because he had been so careful to give his mate time, he might have sealed her death.
What Lucian saw when he came upon the group made him break into a cold sweat. Four burly, filthy men surrounded his mate. Three held her while another unlaced his trousers.
White hot fury consumed Lucian. He leaned low over his mount and charged them. It was just the surprise he needed to scatter the men in every direction. He wheeled Aled around and waited.
One of the brigands recovered and attacked. Lucian kicked out his right leg, landing the toe of his boot square in the man's nose, smashing bone instantly.
The man howled and fell to the ground with his hands over his face. Lucian stared at the other three, waiting for their next attack. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his mate hiding behind a tree.
Isabelle knew she should run and never look back, but she couldn't take her eyes off the huge man on horseback. Even in the darkness with only the full moon for light, he was intimidating and powerful. Yet, the fools that tried to rape her continued to attack him.
She stared, spellbound, as he used his feet, sword, shield, and horse to defeat the remaining three men. A smile pulled at her lips as she looked at the four men rolling around on the ground moaning in pain.
"Serves them right," she whispered.
And then her savior turned towards her.
Isabelle slowly came to her feet but didn't move towards him. She knew these woods, and she could lose him in them if necessary.
His cloak was thrown over his shoulders to reveal dark clothing of fine quality. Even if she hadn't seen his clothing, she would know by his mount that he wasn't a peasant. Besides, peasants couldn't fight as he had.
"Thank you," she said.
He bowed his dark head before dismounting and wiping the blood from his sword on the tunic of one of the injured men. Once it was sheathed, he again looked at her. "Are you hurt?"
The deep treble of his voice surrounded her, enchanted her. She slowly shook her head.
"I am not here to harm you," he said leisurely, as if speaking to a child or a frightened animal.
In truth, Isabelle was terrified. More than she cared to admit. She had lived in the small village all her life and never once came upon any ruffians who would do her harm until tonight. And though she should be glad someone was there to aid her, he was a stranger.
"Who are you?" she asked softly.
He smiled and bowed his head as if he were introducing himself to a queen. "I am Lucian Sinclair."
As soon as he had said his name, she felt a tremor run through her, though it wasn't from terror. It was almost like ... recognition.
Good manners or not, after her attack, she wasn't too eager to trust anyone. "I've lived here all my life and know everyone, so I know you are a stranger to this village. Where do you hail from?"
"From a land far from here."
There was nothing left to ask him other than to leave, but she knew he wasn't about to do that. She had no weapon. Her only defense was the forest, and though he was on foot now, he could mount his great horse and catch her before she was able to sufficiently use the forest to her advantage.
"Let me take you home," he said and took a step toward her, his hand outstretched.
Isabelle didn't move. She had seen first hand just how quick and deadly he was with his sword and body. He was a dangerous man, a stranger, and if she wasn't careful, she might find that she stepped from a group of attackers to one man who could do more damage than the four before him.
Though she could see part of his face from the light of the moon, the smile did not deter the power emanating from him. Was he her savior or her demise? Her decision could well cost her her life.
In response to her silence, he reached down and pulled a dagger from his boot. "Here," he said as he handed it to her hilt first. "Take this. If I do anything that you do not agree with, use it."
Only a fool would refuse a weapon, and Isabelle wasn't a fool. She reached out and grasped the dagger. The dagger wouldn't do much damage, but it was a weapon and could very well give her the chance she needed if she had to escape.
He smiled. "Good. Now, since you have had such a horrible night, why not allow me to escort you home? You may ride Aled, and I shall walk," he said before she could issue a retort.
Isabelle looked around her. The men were slowly gaining their feet and scurrying away, but who was to say they wouldn't return with reinforcements. She wanted to be away from there and in the shelter of her home. Safety was something she had always taken for granted in her small village. Never again would she assume she was safe. 'Twas just another reason she hated living alone.
As always, whenever she thought of living alone, she thought of her grandparents and how much she missed them. She was tired of being alone, but even she knew that was all she had to look forward to for the rest of her life.
Though she knew she shouldn't trust the dark stranger, he pulled at her with invisible fingers. It was as if her body knew what her brain did not.
To her surprise she found herself saying, "All right." She moved away from the safety of the tree to the horse and stared up at its great height. She wasn't a short lass, but the horse was the tallest she had ever seen.
"Let me help," Lucian said just before his hands grasped her waist.
Isabelle barely had time to gasp before she was perched on top of the horse that had the gall to turn and look at her as if she were a nasty fly bothering him.
She was given no time to do anything but hold on as Lucian grabbed the horse's bridle and began to walk. Tension had her muscles wound tight. She waited for him to speak, and when he didn't, she became even more nervous.
The sounds of the night echoed around them as the moon followed them. Lucian didn't seem to mind the darkness or the sounds as he leisurely walked down the path.
Once more she decided to question his origins. "Where exactly do you hail from?"
"Deep in the Highlands."
Isabelle snorted, very unladylike, but some things called for a snort. Like vague answers. "I've lived in the Highlands all my life and know most of the clans. Which clan do you hail from?"
For a moment, he didn't answer. He stopped and turned towards her. "I do not belong to a clan."
She studied him silently. It was apparent by his fine clothing and speech that he was of noble birth. His brogue wasn't as deep as many Scotsmen, but it was there. "Everyone in the Highlands belongs to a clan."
He shrugged and gave her another smile before he patted Aled's great neck and resumed walking. By the way he evaded her question she realized he wasn't likely to tell her anything more, which made her wonder at her sanity in allowing him to accompany her home.
They continued in silence, the clopping of the horse's hooves on the dirt road the only sound that intruded on the night's stillness. By the time they reached Isabelle's cottage, she was anxious to be rid of him and the fear he installed.
Fear and excitement.
Shut up, she silently told herself. Just because she lived a dull life didn't mean she wanted Lucian's kind of excitement.
How do you know? You might like it.
Isabelle was seriously doubting her sanity. Was it a sign that she had lived too long alone that she talked to herself? And argued with herself?
In all her years of working at the tavern, she had never feared living alone. In one night, that had changed. It would always be in the back of her mind that someone lay in wait for her, and it would give Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald more reason to push her to move into town.
At least if she lived over the tavern she would have Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald to talk to, which just might save her sanity. But, in truth, she didn't wish to live over the tavern. She liked her home. Mostly because it was the only home she had ever known, but also because she had known love within its walls. Her grandparents had given her all they had and worried endlessly of what would become of her once they were gone. Isabelle had never worried much, thinking she had plenty of time before she had such a decision to make. And then the fever had struck and taken her grandparents within days of each other.
Before she could dismount, Lucian was there to help her. He was a perfect gentleman as he set her on her feet. She tried to see more of his face, but, with his back to the moon, only shadows met her gaze.
By the way he patiently waited, she knew he wanted something. "Would you like to water your horse?" she offered.
He shook his head.
"Do you need oats for your horse?"
Again, he shook his head.
She wasn't about to ask him to come inside. Regardless of the fact he had saved her life, he was a stranger, dangerous and unknown to her.
"Then what is it you need?" she asked, trying to keep the agitation from her voice.
"Your name."
She swallowed. It was a small thing he asked, but for some reason, she wasn't sure she wanted him to know. She glanced at the ground between them before raising her gaze back to him.
"Isabelle."
"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman."
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" She couldn't believe the words even as they left her mouth. Hadn't she just told herself she wasn't going to invite him in? Yet, here she was doing just that.
Excitement. Admit you want it.
A smile pulled at his lips, and she had the urge to see what he looked like in the light of day.
"Another time," he answered, his deep timber raising chills along her skin. "Until next time," he said and vaulted onto his mount.
Isabelle bit her lip as she watched him ride away. She didn't understand why she wished he had stayed.
"But he's a stranger," she murmured as she walked into her dark cottage.
But an exciting stranger.
Mating Behavior
by
Mandy M. Roth
Chapter One
Alan Becker stared over the orange glow of the campfire at the angel before him. She was tired, as he expected she might be when he'd called for a break. With his supernatural strength, Alan's endurance was off the charts in comparison to that of a human. Katie had no idea he wasn't like her. Hiding the fact that he'd not broken a sweat or gotten the least bit winded on the hike thus far had been hard enough. The angel, who now looked to be on the verge of nodding off, was pushed beyond her limits. It damn near tore his heart out to see it. Katie hadn't complained once so far on the trip and that made it all the worse. It was his place to take care of her.
They'd stopped long enough to eat and for her to warm up. As much as he disliked the idea of starting even the smallest of fires, which they would sit by for an hour or two at best, Katie needed a break from the hike. Her unruly, dark brown hair naturally went to blonde surrounding her face, falling from her knit cap. Katie didn't seem to notice or care as she tucked her knees to her chest and rested her chin upon them. If Alan didn't know first-hand how cold Katie got, he would have thought the thick mittens and sweater she wore were overkill considering just how mild the March weather was. He'd been shedding layers most of the day and even now, as the sun hid on the other side of the mountain causing the temperature to drop, he was hot. Hot because of what he truly was--more than human but not quite a complete animal--and hot because of who he was with, Katie.
He grit his teeth as his cock dug painfully at the confines of his jeans. It seemed to be in a permanent state of arousal around Katie. The girl needed only to exist to make his heart flutter and his pulse speed. The urge to leap forth, do a partial shift and claim her as his own reached levels Alan wasn't sure he could sustain without a meltdown. He swallowed back a lump in his throat, positive his tongue was swelling at almost the same rate his cock was.
Damn her for looking so tempting.
In truth Katie was layered up to the point her sexy, petite frame was unrecognizable but he could see those big brown eyes reflecting pools of firelight back at him. The very thought of those eyes staring up at him as Katie took his cock in her mouth had Alan biting back a moan. She was passionate about everything in her life and he had little doubt she'd be a pistol in the bedroom as well. He could almost feel her nails digging into his back as he rode her into oblivion.
He clenched his fist, trying to wash the erotic images from his head before he lost control of himself. "Hungry?"
I know I am and it's not for food.
She nodded. "A little. How much further do we have to go?"
The weary tone of her voice sobered him instantly. "Depending on how long we rest here for," he ran a hand over his scratchy chin, "I'd say we should be to our campsite a little before nightfall. Unless you want to go straight to the cabin?"
Katie rubbed her mitten-covered hands over her legs. "You mentioned the old wolf dens near the spot your dad used to take you camping." The slight pull of her mouth told him just how exhausted she was. Katie had been elated at the idea of seeing dens, even ones that were no longer in use, for weeks. Seeing her weak smile was all the heads-up Alan needed to know she required rest. "I'd love to camp near them."
"Anything you want," he said, doing his best to ignore the way she bit at her lower lip.
Anything you want? What? How can I be whipped when I haven't even sampled the goods?
He groaned and coughed in a quick attempt to hide it. Alan wasn't the type of man who followed a woman around aimlessly, bending to her every whim. Well, at least he never thought he was the type to do that. Katie had a way of leaving him tongue twisted and his chest tied in knots at the idea of her being unhappy. Only Katie possessed that certain something that left him longing to touch her or to even be in the same room with her.
Alan poked the fire with a long stick for a while, unsure how much time had passed, and pretended to be more worried about keeping it going than the fact Katie was now watching him closely through tired eyes. She did that often when she assumed he wasn't looking. He used to wonder what she was thinking but anymore he had to fight to keep from tackling her to the ground and sinking his cock into her. She had no idea his feelings ran so deep. Hell, up until he'd caught the scent of another man on her some six months ago, he didn't even realize what he felt for her was so intense.
Jealously is funny like that.
Alan had thought she was a fling. Minus the actual sex part, of course. A temporary obsession because she represented everything he couldn't have--a beautiful, intelligent, human female for his own, to take as his mate, his wife and the mother of his children.
Temporary my ass. I've been hot for her for years.
The pack had a strict no-mating-with-humans policy and anyone who didn't adhere to it found themselves on the receiving end of what they could only hope was a quick death. Not to mention the human involved was sentenced to death as well. Humans were to have no knowledge of their kind. End of story, no exceptions to the rule. The council members had laid the laws of the pack down long ago and each generation followed it to the letter. Any who didn't paid the ultimate price. He'd seen a werewolf punished for crimes against the pack when he was just a boy and the memory stuck with him. Seeing a man hung naked by his feet from a tree and ripped to shreds by shifted wolves wasn't something he was ever likely to forget.
While Alan was more than willing to forfeit his own life for a night of passion with Katie, he wasn't ready to sacrifice her life as well. Granted, he wasn't heavily active in any pack, not even the one he lived closest to now, but still, going against the grain was deadly. Shifters of any kind were more common than humans would want to believe. In the city he bumped into at least one shifter a week. Hell, he'd even had a house party once and one showed up. The chick had been some sort of cat shifter and looked as if she wanted to gouge his eyes out. Being part wolf left the feeling totally mutual so Alan didn't take it to heart. Though, he did have his carpets and furniture steam cleaned to get the smell of cat out of them once she was gone. There was really nothing worse than cat hair stuck to his suit, then his sofa, then his bedding. Sleeping with her would have at least given a good reason for it.
If he did give in and claim Katie as his own, the risk of another shifter discovering what he'd done was too great. If they caught scent of his mark, it would only be a matter of time before news of his deed reached the head of the local pack. Within an hour someone would be sent to eliminate Katie.
I won't risk her.
Katie's eyelids drifted downwards and she rocked slightly. Afraid she might fall face first into the fire, Alan drew upon his supernatural speed and moved next to her. Had she been awake, he would have never risked moving even a tenth as fast as he could. There would be no explaining away something like that. It wasn't like he could slap a pair of glasses on and assume a new identity or rush through a telephone booth to shift forms.
Alan pulled Katie into his arms, inhaling her sweet scent and groaning inwardly as his cock twitched. It had been a long hike up the mountain. He could hear her tiny breaths as she hiked behind him, smell the light sheen of sweat upon her skin and vividly picture himself licking it off her.
She hadn't slept well the night before, tossing and turning before waking with a scream lodged in her throat. She then went on to obsess about his safety, doing a complete head-to-toe check over him prior to leaving. It was cute in a "fuck I'm hard again" kind of way.
Alan had tried to talk Katie into letting him drive his SUV but she'd insisted on roughing it. That was almost laughable. Katie was a city girl, having only experienced nature while visiting a strip of grass labeled a park. Dragging her into the Tennessee Mountains in search of grey wolves was ludicrous. These mountains, the ones his father often brought him to, were down right dangerous, regardless of the fact they were no longer frequented by weres--just regular wolves.
Alan hadn't really turned his back on his father's pack so much as he shunned the idea of being part beast, part man. Sure, by all outward appearances he was human and he wasn't a slave to the cycles of the moon like some werewolves, but that didn't make being what he was any easier. The memory of looking himself in the mirror, after a night of feeding off deer while in wolf form, still disgusted him. It had been over fifteen years since he'd last set foot in the mountains, and as much as he hated to admit it, he missed it. He missed the fresh air. The freedom to shift at will and run wild. Having others around who understood what his body was going through. But mostly, he missed the bond he'd once shared with his father. The minute Alan refused to accept what he truly was--a werewolf destined to one day be on one of the ruling councils--his father took it personally, turning his back on Alan and the "human" life he wanted so desperately to lead.
Alan graduated, went off to college and never looked back. His mother called often enough, doing her best to make small talk--all the while the unspoken hints that she wanted him to find a nice she-wolf and settle down hung in the air between them. At times it was so thick he screened his calls, unable to hear the disappointment in his mother's voice when she asked if he'd claimed Katie yet and he said no. Confessing Katie was human wasn't something Alan wanted to do. It would crush his mother.
So far, Alan had become quite the accomplished liar in regards to Katie and his mother. He managed to sneak in affirmations of his mother's suspicions of Katie being a shifter as much as possible while leading Katie to believe his mother had little to no interest in his life so she would stop asking to meet her.
If news spread back to the pack that he was practically living with a human female and had been for the last several years, they'd naturally assume he was fucking her. They'd also assume she knew his secret. Katie would be in danger and that wasn't something Alan would ever permit.
Katie blinked up at him as he rocked her gently before the fire. "Mmm, why aren't you tired?" She stretched. "You know, you're in incredible shape and I have yet to see you workout. Is this how you do it? Do you sneak away and hike when I'm not looking? Your backpack weighs a ton. I tipped over trying it on, remember?"
I'm not tired because I have you in my arms and I'll be damned if I sleep the moment away.
He shrugged and let a lazy smile dance over his face as he remembered the stunned expression on Katie's face as she fell over, hitting the ground under the weight of his pack. Her shoulders had been pinned to the ground by the straps, reminding him of a turtle on its back. It also left her in prime position to receive him, so as funny as it was, Alan had no choice but to get her off the ground quickly or chance mounting her.
"I don't know. I guess it's all this fresh air. And I wouldn't suggest trying to slip my pack on up here. If you tumble, you may never stop." He chuckled even though for one brief second the threat of her doing just that hit him hard. Overreacting seemed to be reserved for anything to do with Katie. With anyone else in life, Alan could really give a shit. He had to take a calming breath and remind himself that Katie was safe.
Katie purred as she stretched against him. The very sound drove spikes of need through his system, leaving his skin prickling with the urge to shift into wolf form and forever claim her as his own. He tipped his head back, trying and failing to block the scent of honeysuckle and roses--the scent of Katie. She fit in the crook of his arm, her body molded to his, reaffirming what the man in him believed, she was made for him.
If only that were true.
Alan steeled himself against her allure and eased her to the ground, careful to pull her backpack close to act as a pillow. "Rest for a bit while I finish checking the map and repacking the gear."
"No, I want to help," she said, her voice slurred with sleep.
The tiniest of laughs escaped him. "As fun as watching you try to figure out what package of dried goods goes where, I'm going to pass. Take a quick nap. There's nothing else you can do to help, Katie, so rest."
"Okay, I'll just rest for a minute."
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