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LENGTH: Full Novel--PLUS Cover art (c) Dan Skinner 2006
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Sexy, humorous, delightfully raunchy…this is what four of today's hottest authors of multicultural, erotic romance have delivered in this anthology of tantalizing tales guaranteed to scorch the skin off your palms. In this erotic collection, you'll indulge your every fantasy and explore worlds just beyond reality. Kate Hill, Adrienne Kama, Lisa G. Riley and Kimberly Kaye Terry offer you wickedly sensual, eclectic tales of love and lust that will take you away from the humdrum of real life to a land where men are real men and unerringly know the secret, carnal delights of the women they're determined to conquer. Tamed by the Tiger by Kate Hill: Raine Santangelo, a Succubus, has never failed a mission…until she comes across the weretiger, Sanjay--who thrusts her into a perilous path of irresistible passions and danger. Forsaken-Immortal Surrender by Adrienne Kama: Ambrosia Kennedy is a certified vampire hunter, and she's on her first assignment-to discover if the goth rock band, Forsaken, are vampires, or if it's all an act. What Ambrosia isn't prepared for is the dark sensuality of Forsaken's lead singer, Umberto. Unparalleled by Lisa G. Riley: Edris Perseveranth has no room in her life for anything but heading the Parallel Plus police force and discovering her mother's killers. But when she's pulled into the erotic dreams of a sexy, blue-eyed stranger who is able to revive her passions, she finds herself longing to make it real…in the flesh. Pleasure Principle by Kimberly Kaye Terry: Arlinda Nyoni doesn't want or need a man in her life for anything other than a momentary, pleasurable diversion. And then Samuel St. John walks into her life, demanding much more than a fleeting encounter.… Rating: Contains graphic sexual content, explicit adult language, violence, and paranormal themes. |
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WICKED DELIGHTS Kate Hill Tamed by the Tiger © copyright May 2006, Kate Hill Forsaken © copyright May 2006, Adrienne Kama Unparalleled © copyright May 2006, Lisa G. Riley Pleasure Principle © copyright May 2006, Kimberly Kaye Terry Cover art by Dan Skinner, © copyright May 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.
TAMED BY THE TIGER By Kate Hill
Prologue “This is an emergency. We need to see you right away.” The panic in Kesi’s voice alerted Raine because her friend rarely overreacted to an assignment. She’d always sweat the small stuff, but when it came to business, she had everything under control. Whatever happened to Kesi’s unit must have been horrible for her to call at midday, when she knew Raine would be sound asleep, and demand a meeting. “Just keep calm and tell me what happened,” Raine said, cradling the phone’s receiver between her shoulder and ear while rubbing sleep from her eyes. “I told you. We were attacked. The operation was planned to perfection. We cornered the weasel and Saloni was beating the hell out of him when this thing attacked us and escaped with the target. You know I’ve seen a lot of shit, Raine, but this guy was like nothing I’ve ever dealt with before.” “What do you mean?” “In the past, Saloni and I have both mixed with weretigers, but never one this powerful. And it was black. To my knowledge there are no black weretigers.” Raine’s brow furrowed in thought. What Kesi just told her didn’t sound good. “Well the target is a weretiger, too. Makes sense that another of his kind would try to save his ass. Just because we’ve never seen a black weretiger doesn’t mean one can’t exist. I do agree we need a meeting to figure this out.” “No shit.” “I’ll ignore that.” “As long as you don’t ignore the problem, that’s all I care about.” “None of you are too injured to travel, right?” “Right.” “Then come to my place. We’ll be safe here while we figure out what’s going on. I’ll get someone back on the target and his mysterious rescuer so we can get the job done. All good?” “It’s a start. We’ll get there ASAP.” A click on the other end of the line told Rain that Kesi had hung up. She switched off her cell phone and placed it back on the night table, then glanced toward the window. Sun bled through the space on the sides of the drawn shade. Usually she slept through the day, but the discussion with Kesi had her too wound up. It had been literally ages since anyone had interfered with one of their jobs. Knowing a male had stopped them irritated her even more. She could only imagine how Saloni felt, since it was her chance for vengeance. Not to mention that Kesi, known as the best fighter in the sisterhood, was absolutely beside herself. Over two thousand years ago Raine’s grandmother, along with two other magical women, had formed the Wakened Veils. Many of the original members still existed, depending on what type of supernatural powers they possessed. Vampires, Succubae, and some were-creatures for example, lived very long lives. Tired of being subject to the whims of men, they banded together and used their powers for vengeance against any man who brought harm to a woman. Their secret society grew and their legacy continued through generations until units of the Wakened Veils patrolled each continent. Raine was in charge of the units that secured the United States east of the Mississippi. Her duty was to listen to cases presented by her warriors, bring the most important ones to the three founders known as the First Wraths, and see that the cases assigned to her units were carried out with stealth and efficiency. A problem such as the one Kesi reported must take top priority. Neither she nor any of the warriors involved could rest until their target--and the bastard who had the audacity to rescue him--were punished.
Chapter One The tiger’s muscular body pushed through the lake’s churning waves, the weight of the man-beast on his back scarcely hindering him. He tried to ignore the taste of blood in his mouth and the lust for battle pulsing through him. At the moment his most important concern was reaching safety before those demonic women regrouped and tried to complete the job they’d started. Nearing the riverbank, the tiger took the man-beast gently by the scruff of the neck and dragged him out of the water. He glanced toward the dirt road, noting the car still parked to the side of it. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath, feeling his powerful chest expand. With the utmost control, he released the breath, his body changing. Bones reshaped, muscles compacted, his spine shifted, and his face molded into its man form. Wet black hair retracted, leaving rivulets of water trailing over smooth flesh and drenched tendrils of thick human hair hanging past his shoulders. Sanjay glanced at his son sprawled on the muddy ground, still halfway between human and tiger. Blood ran from several wounds on his back and legs, but they had already started to heal. He hoisted the youth onto his shoulder and carried him to the car where he propped him against the hood and lightly slapped his catlike face. “Rahul, come on. Wake up. You need to change back so we can get out of here.” The man-beast stirred, and then growled. Sanjay pulled his hand away before savage fangs sank into it. The man-beast’s eyes focused on him, recognition flashing through them, before they slipped shut. With several measured breaths, Rahul changed to his human form. His battered body sagged and if Sanjay hadn’t caught him he most likely would have hit the ground. “Get in.” Sanjay shoved him into the car and reached for a first aid kit. He started cleaning the rapidly healing injuries but Rahul shoved his hands away. “Father, why did you follow me?” “Good thing I did or else you’d be dead.” “I could have handled a bunch of women.” “Highly unlikely.” Sanjay continued tending Rahul’s injuries. “And before you lose your temper again, it’s those particular women who would give you difficulty. Did you happen to notice their ear cuffs?” “I was more interested in avoiding their weapons than admiring their jewelry.” “The engraved silver ear cuffs they wear are a symbol of their sisterhood, a way of identifying themselves to each other. They kill men, Rahul. In particular, men of a magical nature.” “They wouldn’t have killed me.” Still excitable from repressing the urge to destroy enemies in battle, the tiger in Sanjay was in no mood for Rahul’s obstinacy. Grasping the youth roughly by the jaw, he snarled, “Killing is all they do, Rahul, but they never kill without reason.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means keep your silence, boy, until I’m finished aiding you.” Rahul’s chest rose and fell with each furious breath and he glared at Sanjay yet kept his silence. He must have sensed his father had been pushed to his limit and any further provocation would end quite badly. Sanjay worked quickly, knowing it was only a matter of time before those she-devils recovered enough to follow them. Crossing the river would have thrown them off their scent temporarily, but the women were vampires and when it came to tracking, few creatures surpassed blood drinkers. They needed to get out of the area and to the hotel room Sanjay booked two states over. It would mean driving all day, but he had little choice. Moments later the men, now dressed in jeans and T-shirts, drove down the dark country road. “May I ask a question, Father?” Rahul asked, his voice haughty. At Sanjay’s nod, he continued, “If you were certain those women wanted to kill me, why did you leave them alive?” “You know it is not our way to harm women. No self-respecting weretiger would do such a thing. Not only that, those particular women never kill without reason. I want to know which one of them you angered enough to warrant a death sentence.” “How is it you are so familiar with them?” “I’ve had all I will take of your insolence. I want an answer to my question. Now!” “And if I don’t want to give it?” A growl trapped in Sanjay’s throat. He would have been within his rights to punish Rahul for his insolence, but no matter what the situation, his son was usually respectful and collected. This uncharacteristic rebelliousness combined with tonight’s attack told Sanjay something was drastically wrong. He needed to uncover the problem before he lost Rahul, and not simply to death. “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” Sanjay asked, trying to keep the demand from his voice. As leader of their clan, he was accustomed to his men responding immediately when asked a question. “Because this is not something you can understand and I don’t want you to interfere. What happened tonight is between Saloni and me.” “Saloni? She’s a vampire.” Sanjay recalled one of the women from tonight’s attack. “Yes.” “Who is she exactly?” “No one you would know about.” “I realize that. I only know about, Nidhi, the girl you’re to marry.” Rahul’s jaw tightened visibly and he held up a defensive hand. “Father, don’t do this.” “One of us must do something, Rahul. If this Saloni woman has called upon the Wakened Veils, they will not stop hunting until you are dead.” “The Wakened Veils?” “They are a group of women--all of magical origins--that formed two thousand years ago to seek revenge against any man who dared harm one of their own.” “And no one has stopped them? Surely it wouldn’t take much--” “No one has stopped them because not only is their secret kept safe from everyone outside their group, but they are intelligent and well trained. Assassins comparable to Thugs and Ninja, except these females have various powers far beyond the realm of mortals.” Rahul snorted. “It sounds as if you’re afraid of them.” “Your attempt to goad me is weak--as weak as whatever actions led you to be marked for death by this powerful group of women.” Rahul growled and shifted position to glare at Sanjay. “You know nothing about what happened between me and Saloni.” “Not if you don’t tell me.” The younger man sighed deeply, his anger fading to an expression of sadness that affected Sanjay more than he wanted to admit. From the moment Rahul was born, Sanjay had loved him in a way he never imagined possible. He had felt little for the boy’s mother, and she even less for him, but both parents had adored Rahul, even if Sanjay had stupidly wasted many years playing the part of clan leader instead of father. He had been harsh with Rahul for the boy’s own good. Theirs was a savage world and to keep the respect of his men, Sanjay needed to maintain firm control over everything and everyone, including himself. Sometimes he worried that he had learned too late that power tempered with understanding made a better leader--and a far better father--than he had often been. “Do you remember two centuries ago when you went to South America?” Rahul asked. “Of course.” “During the months you were away, I met a woman in a village not far from our clan’s meeting place. Saloni. We were very much in love.” Sanjay glanced at Rahul, noting a gleam in his eyes that wasn’t there when he spoke of his fiancée, Nidhi. Not a good sign. “Why did you never mention this woman to me? Tell me she was not engaged to someone else.” Or worse, married. “I wanted to marry her, but her family would not accept me.” “Why not?” Sanjay snapped, irritated. Not only was Rahul a successful businessman more than able to comfortably support a family, but he was a fierce protector. Women would like the idea that he was handsome and kind. “You didn’t tell them about your shape shifting, did you? Because you know that cannot be discussed until after the engagement--” “Only Saloni knew.” “I will refrain from mentioning how stupid it was to tell anyone outside of the clan, except your wife.” “You just did mention it. Now do you want to hear this story only so you can lecture me on my mistakes?” Sanjay drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “Go on.” “Her parents had already arranged her marriage and she refused to go against their wishes, so I left. I had to get as far from her and India as possible or else I thought I might lose my mind.” “That’s why you were gone when I returned from South America.” “Yes.” “I see. But I still don’t understand what you did to provoke the Wakened Veils. It seems to me that the woman was the one in error, not you.” “When do women ever make sense?” Sanjay shrugged, unable to argue with that bit of reasoning. “She probably wants revenge because she and I slept together.” “Ah.” Sanjay smirked. “Now the proverbial plot thickens.” “It was only one time … maybe two.” “Maybe?” “Father, I would rather not go into detail.” “How about going into detail about how she became a vampire?” “When I returned from abroad, I went to her village, just to make sure she was happy with her new family--” “Or to see if she wasn’t so you could pick up where you left off?” “Since you already know the story, you obviously don’t need me to continue,” Rahul said sarcastically. “Just go on.” “Saloni had died in childbirth, or so I thought.” “So now she’s a vampire and seeking revenge on you. Why?” “I have no idea.” Rahul gestured helplessly with his hands, and then added softly, “Except that tonight she mentioned something about Nidhi.” “She’s jealous.” “But she refused me.” “It doesn’t matter. She refused to disrespect her parents’ wishes but at the same time wanted you to remain faithful to her. Love can be a double-edged sword, one that females wield with untouchable skill.” “You speak like an expert.” “I’m much older and more experienced than you.” Sanjay fell silent for a moment, concentrating on merging with the speeding highway traffic. The road was a long stretch, with cars rushing by on both sides. It had been quite some time since he’d traveled outside of rural areas. He spent most of his time in jungles or open country. His very nature demanded the freedom only available outside the city. Rahul had inherited much of his mother’s human nature and was, for the most part, well able to deal with the confinement of city life. “I don’t think they intended to kill me, Father,” Rahul said quietly. “At least I won’t believe Saloni meant to.” “Do not underestimate any member of the Wakened Veils. When we get to the hotel, I want you to stay there. If you don’t hear from me within twenty-four hours, I want you to return home. I’ve alerted the clan to this problem and they are ready to defend you. I pray it will not come to that. If it does, many will die on both sides of this battle.” Rahul paled a bit, though Sanjay didn’t think for a moment it was out of fear for his own life. In spite of his recent rebelliousness, the clan meant everything to Rahul and he would not wish to put them in danger. “Where are you going, Father?” “To see if I can put a stop to this situation before it gets out of control. If these women will simply see reason, there need not be any more bloodshed on either side.”
FORSAKEN Immortal Surrender By Adrienne Kama “Do not judge me by my flaws, though they are many” -Umberto Pena Chapter One Ambrosia Kennedy’s fingers glided over the sleek neck of the guitar. She reveled in the feel of the taut length of it beneath her fingertips. With a languorous rocking, she rotated her hips, losing herself to the emotions humming through her body. She was totally enthralled. With a soprano howl she opened her eyes, yanked the mic stand close with her left hand and used it to play eight bars of a bluesy slide guitar riff that ran counterpoint to Kyle’s thumping bass. She watched Kyle swing his blond mane in time with the music. He ran to the edge of the stage and dropped to his knees. The nine security guards standing within the flimsy barricade between the stage and audience released a simultaneous shout of warning when the crowd surged forward and a group of teenaged girls tried to scramble over the wooden partition, grasping for Kyle. Her band, Maven, had ended the show like this every night for the last five weeks, and every night the crowd went wild. It didn’t matter what city they were in or that they were the opening act, the primer for the main event. Every night the crowd cheered them on and every night Ambrosia reveled in the adoration. If the Talhari Council knew how thoroughly she was enjoying this assignment they wouldn’t be pleased. This was her first real mission after all. Her apprenticeship had been far too long and more arduous than anything her male counterparts ever experienced. Doubtless, even with her extensive training she’d never have been given this opportunity to take part in the slaying of the vamp-goth band, Forsaken, if not for the fact that she was the only hunter who could play lead guitar and sing while working an audience into a frenzy. But even at that the council had only agreed to send her after she’d assured them she wouldn’t question the decisions of Kyle and Nick, two veteran hunters. Kyle, of course, was the CHI, Certified Hunter In-charge. Nick was second in command, and then there was her. It grated. Still smarting at the indignities of the setup, she leaned into the mic to sing the last notes of the song before her final guitar solo. A sea of aggressive twenty-something males raised their fists in the air and screamed for more. Indignities aside, this was one sweet assignment. It’d be hours before her performance high waned, hours before she’d be able to settle in bed and sleep. She was too worked up, too jazzed. Maybe Kyle was onto something when he arranged for the kill to go down at sunrise. Despite all of the preparation that had gone into this plan, she’d originally thought five weeks was too soon for a takedown. But she supposed that’s why she wasn’t the CHI. Her fingers danced up the neck of the guitar for the last time. She spun away from the mic, shook her leather clag rear end at the audience, and leapt into the air for the final note. A flash of pyrotechnics erupted from center stage, lighting her in bright orange light for several seconds, then the stage went black. “Maven! Maven! Maven!” the crowd yelled. Grinning in the near darkness, she disconnected from her rig, slung her guitar over her back, and made her way to the stairs at the rear of the stage. Kyle and Nick moved on ahead of her, walking at a trot. At the bottom of the stairs Trevor, one of their roadies, was positioned with an armful of towels. “Great show, guys. You’re really giving those guys in Forsaken a run for their money.” Kyle took his towel and grinned. “You bet your ass we are.” Ambrosia clasped a towel then drew it over her damp face. She nodded as Bill, another roadie, unhooked her guitar strap and took her guitar from her. “You’ve got one sweet ass, Ambi, and you know how to move it. What I wouldn’t give….” She bit back the sour response that perched on the tip of her tongue and forced a smile to her lips. “Dream on, Billy.” Behind her, Trevor snickered. “I’d watch it if I were you, Bill. Umberto’s already laid his claim. I don’t know about you, but that’s one guy I wouldn’t wanna piss off.” Again, she had to swallow the automatic response hovering on her lips. The day she allowed herself to be claimed by a bloodsucker was the day she lost her mind. Bill grimaced. A visible shudder vibrated through his obese frame then he stepped away from her. “I didn’t mean no harm, Ambi.” He held his hand up, as if to stave off an attack. “It was just a compliment. You’re not going to mention I said anything to Umberto, are you? I mean, I was just joking around.” For the last five weeks, she’d cultivated a relationship with Forsaken’s lead singer. She’d dressed sexy, shoved her body into scanty little dresses and all but thrown herself at the sinister vampire. She was supposed to adore the bloodsucker, least that’s how her story went. Truth was, and this grated too, she was finding it harder and harder to be offended when someone remarked on her relationship with him. If he were human, if he weren’t a vampire, she’d allow the relationship to develop into the sexual one she knew he craved, but she couldn’t. Umberto wasn’t a man. He was a killer. She gave Bill a coy smile and winked. “We’ll see.” Kyle tugged her arm. “Come on.” She finger waved to Bill, then followed Kyle away from the stage area. Nick led the way through the labyrinth of cinderblock hallways toward the hole in the wall that was their dressing room, twirling a drumstick between his fingers as he walked. He smiled absently at the groupies milling around the backstage area, “all access” passes hanging like badges of honor around their necks and the sickly sweet fragrance of drugstore perfume heavy in the air around them. “Sons of bitches.” Kyle rubbed at the thick line of kohl eyeliner under his eyes. His blond hair was saturated with sweat and clung to his scalp like a skull cap. “They fuckin’ loved us. They wanted a second encore. You’re fuckin’ brilliant, Ambi. You’ve got these guys eating out the palm of your hand … Umberto included.” He said the last part through the cerebral communications unit wired through each of their frontal lobes. The CCU was necessary because it allowed them to converse silently, and silent communication was essential when a kill was going down. Nick glanced at Ambrosia over his shoulder, his green eyes flickering with displeasure. She knew what he was thinking, and she didn’t care. She couldn’t afford to care. What had happened to Tom, her predecessor, hadn’t been her fault. She refused to feel guilty for being glad about her good fortune. Hell, she hadn’t even known Tom. “This is only a temporary assignment for you, Ambi, try to remember that. All that showing off you’re doing isn’t going to kill the perps any faster.” She draped the towel over her bare shoulder and shrugged. “I’m just playing my part.” Nick flicked his chestnut mane and turned away. “And loving every minute of it.” “Shut up, Nick. I think Ambi’s performance has been right on target. I’m going to recommend to the council that they let her join the band full time. She’s a real asset.” Nick shoved the dressing room door open with a boot then sauntered inside, speaking loud enough for half the world to hear him. “Do you even care about Tom? We don’t know shit about how he died or how she operates, never saw her do a kill. All we know is that she was trained by Gaia Knight. The Council may think the sun rises and sets on Knight, but I say big fucking deal.” “Shut up, Nick!” Kyle waited for Ambrosia to enter, then shut the door and set the lock in place. “All I’m saying is the setup seems to be working. Ambi fits the bill more than Tom, we can take out more bloodsuckers with Ambi than we ever could have with Tom. She looks like a lead singer.” Eyes narrowed to thin slits, Nick collapsed onto the worm-out brown sofa in the far corner of the small blue and gray room and regarded her with cool appraisal. “Big tits, round ass, and a pretty little doll face. Yeah, I guess you fit the bill, but you wanna know something, Ambi?” As usual, Nick was getting on her nerves. Too annoyed to speak with anything that remotely resembled respect, she nodded instead. “When you put on all that brown, skin-tight leather it’s hard to tell where your skin begins and the leather ends. Makes you look like a whore. More like a groupie than a singer, if you know what I mean. Umberto’s groupie, if you get me.” It was a challenge to keep from flipping him the bird every time he cut her down. Nevertheless, she turned from Nick, clapped Kyle on the shoulder, and headed for the bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.” “I’m heading over to the hotel now. You and Nick are going to the mansion at midnight, after the show. You’re riding over in the bus with Forsaken. I’ll be arriving with the team at three; we’ll scan the area then enter the house thirty minutes before sunrise.” He and Nick exchanged a look. “If anything happens, if anything changes, if they do anything that gives you pause, contact me immediately. Understood?” Nick nodded. “Yeah, I got you.” Ambrosia sucked in a breath. This was her first slaying. Everything had to run as smooth as silk or it would be her last. “Understood,” she agreed. Kyle focused on Nick. “You know what you’re supposed to do while I’m prepping the team?” “Recon the house one final time, make sure the layout matches the blueprints we made five weeks back. Check the crypt, make sure there are still four coffins inside. Check the crypt for personal paraphernalia--” “Ambrosia?” Unlike Nick who had respectable duties to perform tonight, she found her own tasks to be an insult to her training. “Ambrosia?” Nick demanded from the sofa. “You know, Kyle, I think I’d be more use if I helped Nick and--” Kyle shook his head. “What is your assigned duty, Ambrosia?” She exhaled. “Distract the band so Kyle can perform his duties without interruption. I’m to stick close to Umberto, because he’s the one the others look to for leadership.” The edge of Nick’s lip curled into what she could only assume was a grin, though it looked more like a snarl. “Umberto seems to have taken a liking to you so I don’t think you’ll have any trouble keeping him occupied until sunrise.” “Agreed,” Kyle said. “Make sure the band enters the crypt before sunrise. If they don’t, contact me. It won’t do us any good to go down for the kill if the bloodsuckers aren’t even there.” She nodded. “Understood.” “Good. I’ll see you both at sunrise.” She stepped into the bathroom, shut and locked the door. Sunrise tomorrow. It would be the most important day of her life.
UNPARALLELED By Lisa G. Riley
Prologue For several millennia the two worlds existed side by side, but didn’t know it. In many respects, their worlds were the same. When Cro-Magnons walked one earth, they were walking the other as well; when the death of a single man heralded the spread of a religion in one world, at the same time the death of another man did the same in the other. Similarly, large scale tragedies perpetrated by man transpired in one world at the same time that they occurred in the other. None of these happenings were exactly the same, but they brought the same result: they changed the respective world in which they occurred. The worlds are similar, but not the same. The people measure time in the same way and are on the same time continuum. Their cities and countries have the same exact names, geographies and languages. And while the histories of these countries in their different worlds are somewhat similar, the people are not duplicates of one another. The differences between the two worlds are many. One world is so technologically advanced that it is light years ahead of the other. Their technology is the peoples’ god and has consumed them for decades. It has precipitated the loss of most of their natural resources and has turned most of their world into an ugly gray landscape. Technology has also enabled them to discover a portal from their world to the other and mimic it in science labs everywhere, so that they may travel back and forth between the two worlds at will. Because they are so far ahead of the other world and discovered the portal hundreds of years ago while the people in the other world still remained unaware of it, the people of the more advanced world call their world Parallel Plus and the less advanced world the Sub Parallel. While Parallel Plus inhabitants do not see people of the Sub Parallel as being beneath them, they do not exactly consider them equals either. This is a story of what happens when two people from the two worlds meet. This is Edris’s and Enrique’s story. Chapter One Louisville, Kentucky The Sub Parallel Thirty Years Ago “¡No, hermosa negra! ¡No lo haga!” The distressed cry came from the other end of the hall and awakened Dalila Rivera Aponte from a fitful sleep. Her husband liked to say that she now slept with one ear open since Enrique had begun to have the dreams. She could only agree with him. “No, mi amor. You stay in bed. I’ll take care of ‘Rique.” She whispered the words to her waking husband. Putting on her wrapper, she left the room and hurried down the hall. The dreams had started several months before. They worried her husband because their son believed that the little girl in the dreams was real, even though he had never met or seen her anywhere before. The frequency and intensity of the dreams also scared her husband. Dalila, on the other hand, was not scared at all. She’d dreamed the same way when she’d been a child. She just hadn’t been as young as Enrique when his dreams started. She’d been 12 years old when her dreams had started and though she didn’t know him at the time and had never even seen him in life, she’d dreamed of the boy, and then the man, who would later become her husband. Her family had called it el ojo tercer--the third eye. Dalila had only known that the dreams had at first been fun, but then they’d worried and confused her because he’d seemed so real and yet, logically, she’d known he couldn’t be. She’d begun to think she was loco, especially when she’d turned 16 and the dreams had turned quite torrid and had made her--a good, Puerto Rican, Catholic girl-feel hot, sweaty and satisfied during the night. In the bright light of the morning, she felt sinful, and terrified she was going to go straight to hell for letting the white boy with the beautiful blue eyes have his way with her. And then she’d met him, the man who was literally the man of her dreams--Jefferson Andre Thomas, her American gringo--and she hadn’t felt crazy anymore. She’d just felt … complete, even though he hadn’t dreamed of her at all. None of it made sense and she didn’t try to explain it. She just accepted it. Her goal now was to spare Enrique as much of the same pain and confusion as she could. “Oh, poor little darling,” she said regretfully with a shake of her head when she arrived at her son’s room and saw that his restless sleep had tangled him in the covers. “¡Oh, careful black, beautiful one! ¡Usted se lastimará!” Dalila rushed over to the bed at this latest cry from her son. “ ‘Rique,” she said as she gently shook him and smoothed back his damp, black curls. “Wake up, baby. It is only a dream. Wake up. Mama is here now.” She reached over and turned on the lamp. Five-year old Enrique Jefferson Thomas Rivera fought his way out of his disturbing dream, opening his eyes to see his mother’s concerned face. He considered trying to be a big boy and hiding his tears, but decided it wasn’t worth it and flung himself into his mother’s arms. “Ah, Mama. It is awful!” “Hush, little one. It will be all right. ¿Es la pequeña muchacha otra vez, sí?” She asked in Spanish and automatically translated to English as she held him away from her. His blue eyes were filled with sorrow. “It is the little girl again, yes?” “Sí, mama. The little black beauty is in pain. Debo ayudarle.” “In pain?” Dalila asked in surprise with an arch of her brow. Always before, Enrique’s dreams of the little girl had been happy ones. “¿Que es la materia con ella? What is the matter with her?” The habit of translating every sentence had started when he’d been a toddler and most of the time she found it a hard one to break. “Oh, Mommy. She has fallen and there is lots of blood with no one to help her. I have to go to her!” Enrique explained anxiously and translated as well. “¡Debo ir a ella!” He wanted to go to her? Suppressing a smile, Dalila held him still as he actually attempted to leave the bed. “Sweetheart.” She tightened her grip when he still struggled. “You are a very brave boy, but you cannot go to her. She is only in your dreams, correct?” “But she is a real person, Mama! I know she is--I just haven’t met her yet!” “I know, mi hijo,” Dalila said patiently. She’d heard this argument from him time and time again. “I know. But think about it, Enrique. How can you help her when we do not know where she is?” Enrique stopped struggling and huffed out a frustrated breath, his body slumping in disappointment. “Well, damn,” he murmured softly and suddenly remembering that this was his mother he was talking to and not his friend, Charles, he hurriedly tried to explain as he studiously avoided her eyes, “I mean … uhhh … well … hmm.” He cleared his throat and gave up. He risked a peek at his mother. The unyielding look on her face gave him little hope and he said, “I am sorry, Mama. I am just so worried about her.” Dalila successfully suppressed a smile and said sternly, “Sí, pero ése no hay excusa, Enrique. Absolutely no excuse will do. You know better.” “I know,” Enrique mumbled with his chin glued to his chest. On a resigned sigh, he asked, “What is my punishment?” “We will discuss that later,” Dalila said firmly. “First, we must finish with your little friend, yes?” Enrique smiled with gratitude. “Oh, si, Mama, we must!” “Now tell me again about the blood.” Enrique became anxious again. “Oh, there was so much of it. She hurt her knee really bad, maybe broke it, even, and there is no one around to help her. Not even the robot.” “Robot?” Dalila was shocked. “What is this robot you speak of?” Enrique smiled excitedly. “Oh, Mama, they have a robot. It plays with her and reads books to her, but mostly it cleans.” “Enrique!” Dalila said sternly. “You must not make things up.” “Oh, but I am not, Mama! There is a robot. It is called Florence.” Dalila frowned. A robot that played and read books? ¡Imposible! “You are certain, Enrique?” she asked him. “Absolutely positive?” “Ah, si, Mama. There is a robot. I have seen her many times.” “If you are sure,” Dalila said with a shrug, deciding to drop the subject. Perhaps it was a toy she just had not seen before. “Yes, I am sure,” Enrique said and there was impatience in his voice. “How will we help her, Mama?” “She is smaller than you are, your dream girl, yes?” “Si, Mama.” “Then since she is so small, she is probably screaming and yelling so loud that the whole neighborhood will hear her. Just as you get mad and scared when you hurt yourself, she probably gets mad and scared as well. And just like you, she will scream and scream until someone comes. When you hurt yourself, you scream like what is called ‘a banshee,’ no?” she finished with a grin. “I am sure she does, too.” Enrique smiled at his mother’s teasing and thought about what she’d said, before saying earnestly, “You are right, Mama. She will be fine. La poca negra belleza será fina,” he said with emphasis as he lay back against his pillows again. “Darling,” Dalila chastised softly, “you must not call her ‘the little black beauty.’ She is not a horse, no? Or even a pony, eh?” she teased as she poked him in his belly. Quickly catching the joke, Enrique giggled and twisted to avoid her fingers. “But, Mama, she is beautiful. If only you could see her….” He trailed off as he pictured her face, as he had hundreds of other times since he’d started dreaming of her several months before on his fifth birthday. Once again, Dalila wondered if a five-year old could truly be in love. This was not the first time Enrique had gotten that dazed look on his face when he talked about the little girl. “Yes, darling, I know she is beautiful, but you cannot call her that. You still have not found out her name?” Enrique frowned as his mother’s voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “No, I do not know her name. And if I can’t call her la poca negra belleza, then I will call her … I will call her mi belleza oscura!” he said with triumph. “My dark beauty. Is that not pretty, Mama?” Dalila tried not to be too worried that he already thought of the little girl as his. “I’m afraid you do not understand, Enrique,” she said as she straightened the covers around him. “You cannot describe her by the color of her skin. It is not polite.” “But Mama, it is her dark skin that helps to make her so especially beautiful!” he insisted. “I understand, el pequeño, but you must think of something else. ¿Comprehendes?” “Si, Mama,” he said in a disgruntled voice, recognizing the tone and knowing that further argument was useless. “I understand.” “¡Excelente! Good night, my baby,” Dalila said as she bent to kiss him. “Te quiero.” Enrique rose from his pillows to hug her around her neck. “Buenos noches, Mama. I love you, too.” He made himself comfortable once again and certain his mother was gone, lovingly murmured, “Buenos noches, mi belleza oscura.” * * * * Eight years later, Enrique swore in helpless frustration as he dreamt of the unknown girl and watched as she did something reckless yet again. She was always doing what she should not. She was ten years old now and her rashness only seemed to get worse as she grew older. “Oh, belleza oscura, must you be so out of control all of the time?” he murmured as he watched events unfold. Tall and dressed entirely in black, the girl crept outside into the dark night and paused by an odd-looking vehicle. Shaped like an airplane in the front, but boxy like a car in the back, it was small, gray and had what looked to be wings sticking from the sides of it. The girl gave a furtive look around before she pressed a lever on the side and Enrique watched in fascination as a door lifted straight up. She hurriedly climbed inside the back of the vehicle and lay down, pulling a blanket over herself until she was completely covered. The door lowered and shut on its own. “I have to go, Terrence.” Enrique’s attention was caught by the impatient voice of the woman he knew to be the little girl’s mother. She was talking over her shoulder as she walked outside of a small steel and glass structure that Enrique knew to be their home. “I told you that this case is top priority and I can’t discuss it. Not with anyone except Clay. And before you say anything we’ll both regret, I’m not having an affair with him. He’s my partner; it’s necessary that we spend a lot of time together. But I can’t keep explaining that to you, Terrence,” she said. “Just take care of the girls and I’ll be home as soon as I can.” “When?” a tall, dark man asked as he followed her. He grabbed her arm and stopped her from going any further. He, too, was impatient and his handsome face showed it when she sighed again. His dark eyes showed clear displeasure. “Look, Carma, I don’t think it’s asking too much to want to know when my wife will be home.” “I don’t know,” the woman said and folded her arms across her slender, uniformed body. “It probably won’t be until morning. Perhaps even later than that,” she finished. Enrique detected both resentment and defiance. “Well, that’s just great, Carma,” the man said angrily. In contrast to his wife, he wore cotton pants and a long, flowing, white shirt--a color and kind of material Enrique rarely saw when he dreamed of the girl. “You’re hardly ever home anymore. The girls miss you. I miss you.” His voice had softened considerably on this last comment. “It can’t be helped, Terrence. I have a job to do.” She turned and walked toward the vehicle, climbing in and shutting the door after her. She drove the vehicle for a few feet and then suddenly it took flight and was in the air, joining other such vehicles as they flew over spire-topped steel buildings. Upon landing, Carma left the vehicle and approached a building with a sign proclaiming it as Region 22 Security and Regulations Compound. Enrique watched curiously as she pressed her palm to a panel and it flashed a bright green. The doors opened almost immediately. The little girl, having slipped out of the vehicle before the door had lowered completely, waited a few seconds before following her mother, squeezing her body through the doors just before they closed. She stayed well behind, but close enough to still follow her, ducking and hiding when she heard voices or other footsteps besides her mother’s. She followed her mother down into the basement of the building, staying out of sight, but watching as Carma moved toward a group of two men and two women who stood in front of a brightly lit doorway that was, oddly enough, in the middle of the room and had no depth to it. The girl’s eyes grew big as her mother pulled an odd-looking weapon from her holster. Enrique assumed it to be some sort of gun. “Stop!” Carma yelled, “I’m placing you all under arrest for the illegal traversal of criminals through the portal to the Sub Parallel. Put your hands up.” The group turned toward her. They all wore facemasks. One man stepped forward. “Put that away, Carma. You’re not going to use it.” “Oh, you’re wrong. I’ll use it if I have to--just don’t give me a reason to.” A masked man grabbed her from behind and the girl screamed, gaining everyone’s attention. “Oh, my God!” Carma wailed. “Run, baby, run!” she yelled as she was dragged across the room, closer to the group. The little girl did as her mother said and ran back the way she had come and was up the stairs and halfway down a second hall before she was caught. She kicked her legs and flailed her arms as she was carried back into the room. The girl’s eyes searched the room. “Where’s my mother? What did you do to her?” she screamed. “Where’s my mother?” “Shut up!” the man who had caught her said and covered her mouth. She bit him. “Ow! You little bitch!” he said and pushed her away from him, so that she fell against the strange doorway and hit her head. She didn’t move. “What should we do with her?” the man who had shoved her asked. He bent down to check the pulse in her neck. “The pulse is strong. She’ll be fine.” “We’re going to have to get rid of her--just like we had to get rid of her mother,” one of the women said and Enrique’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. “We can’t take the chance that she’ll identify us.” “No, hold on a minute,” said the man who’d challenged Carma. “I don’t want to do that. And besides, we’re wearing the masks.” “You didn’t have those same qualms over Carma,” the woman reminded him. “I know that, but Carma was a thorn in our sides who had worn out her welcome long ago with all of her investigating. She’s just a child,” the man finished and gestured toward the unconscious girl. “Well, the only other thing we can do is give her some Oblivios,” the other woman said with a shrug. “The last hour of her life will be erased from her memory.” “Perfect,” the man said. “And we’ll just leave her here to be found later.”
PLEASURE PRINCIPLE By Kimberly Kaye Terry
Prologue Mariana tilted the brim of her straw-hat back a bit on her head and squinted up at the sun before she cast her eyes around the small plot of land. Her garden was in serious need of a little TLC. It had been a while since she’d weeded it. With a happy sigh, she rearranged her long peasant skirt and knelt down in the dirt, shovel in one hand, and shears in the other. She adjusted the volume on the CD player and bounced her butt a little as she happily went to work. She loved this place. She could garden, escape from the world, and really listen to music. She was so busy pulling weeds and replanting pansies, she didn’t hear the sound of the nearly inaudible steps in the lush grass. She glanced up just in time to see a big hand reach out to delicately finger one of her long individual micro-braids. “I love when you do this to your hair,” he complimented her softly. She unconsciously ducked her head to hide the blush she felt creep along her cheeks, although she had no idea why he always affected her this way. Cain had been visiting her for as long as she could remember, from the time she was a child. After a few moments of silence, she stole a glance at him from beneath lowered lids. He stood so tall his long body blocked out the sun. She patted the spot beside her in silent invitation and smiled when he immediately hunkered down next to her. When he held out his hand, she reached for the spare pair of gloves and handed them to him. She admired the way he worked the gloves onto his long, strongly sculpted hands. “Where have you been? It’s been awhile,” Mariana asked as they worked hand-in-hand planting and gardening in companionable silence. He didn’t say anything for a moment. When he did, she could hear the weariness that lay just beneath the surface of his deep voice when he answered. “I had to take care of a few things. I had missions that needed my attention.” Mariana never questioned these missions of his. Missions that would take him away from her for long weeks at a time. Sometimes months. She accepted that he had a life away from her. Just as she had a life outside of this idyllic paradise also. “I wanted to come sooner,” he apologized, and she could feel his intent gaze. Watching her. “I understand. You’re here now, that’s what matters.” “Your brother Samuel needs to go in your place to visit the designer,” Cain spoke without preamble as he often did. He would simply drop one of his sometimes vague comments in the conversation and expect her to follow the flow. Which she always did, she thought with an inward laugh. “Arlinda Nyoni?”she asked, not surprised that he knew Arlinda, nor that she was scheduled to have a meeting with the woman to discuss a fundraiser for her charity. “Yes.” When he said nothing more, she waited. It never worked for her to try and hasten him to speak. “Samuel needs to go carefully with her. If he rushes, and accepts what she initially will offer him, he’ll lose the greatest reward in the end.” “What’s the reward? Is she for Sam?” Mariana held her breath. He turned dark eyes in her direction and the look in their swirling depths made her breath catch in her throat, before he smiled gently at her. “Just make sure you allow Samuel to go in your place, and caution him. It’ll all work out as it was meant to. Have faith.” He laughed when she pulled a face at him. “Okay, thank you, old sage one, I will duly do as instructed. Now do you wanna know what’s going on in my world?” “That’s what I love about you. That irreverence for your elders,” he laughed. “Yes, please tell me what’s going on in your world.” He lightly tapped the brim of her hat. Although she laughingly accepted his suggestions, they both knew that she carefully listened to him and as usual, would take his words to heart. She would speak with Sam. The afternoon was spent in pleasant conversation, and if she thought too carefully on his earlier comment that he loved her, she remembered that he’d been saying the same thing to her from the time she was a child. From the first time that he’d entered her dreams.
Chapter One “Maya, could you please hand me that g-string? No, not the red one, the black see-thru one! How tacky would that be to have a red lace thong with a black sheer bra?” “Arlinda Nyoni, what difference does it make which color it is? I don’t see a red one anyway! Who’s going to see it? And if they did would they really care that the two didn’t match?” Maya grumbled as she half-heartedly fished around the small bin for the requested undergarment. Arlinda peeked from behind the mannequin she was currently dressing to steal a glance at her irritable friend. She didn’t want to laugh at her but Maya had turned into a serious grump the farther she advanced in her pregnancy. At six months pregnant, Maya’s general ticked-off-at-the-world disposition had grown in direct proportion to her growing belly. Maya had recently gotten married and within weeks she’d hesitantly shared the news with Arlinda that she and her husband Mark were expecting. Weeks ago, Maya’s obstetrician had informed her friend that she was pregnant with twins. Maya’s husband had been overjoyed but Arlinda could tell Maya was still trying to adjust to the fact that she was going to be a mother, much less the mother of two. Because of Maya’s abusive childhood background, she’d unconsciously closed herself off to the idea of having children. With her husband’s love and support, she’d begun to shake off those old beliefs. And it didn’t hurt that Mark loved Maya to distraction. Arlinda stifled an inward sigh of envy. She loved Maya as the sister she had never had and although the two of them had different upbringings, they still shared a lot of similarities. Arlinda’s childhood had been loving and nurturing, unlike Maya’s harsher beginnings. Both were the product of a racial mixture. Maya’s mother had been white and her father black. Her parents had died in a car accident when Maya was a child, leaving her in the care of her abusive foster mother. Arlinda’s mother was Puerto Rican and her father was African. Although she’d grown up with both parents, it had been difficult as a child for her to shrug off the meanness of others. Her family had moved from Puerto Rico to New York, and she’d eventually learned to deal with the names and ugly treatment she’d received by using humor as her shield. Everyone liked the happy girl. The woman who was always up for a party and took life lightly. The one who never shared her true feelings. She didn’t envy Maya for the sake of envy. But she was honest enough with herself to admit she envied her because she’d found that perfect man. If such an animal existed. She’d found her soul mate, a man who’d been able to look beyond the shield to discover a woman worth fighting for. Arlinda didn’t think she’d ever find that man for herself. Besides, it was just so much easier to play the flirt role. Therefore when the relationship soured she had little or no emotional investment. She’d leave the whole ‘happily ever after’ to Maya and Mark. “Here, damn it, take these!” Maya interrupted her dour thoughts and flung the g-string at her slingshot style. “Maya, chica, you are so out of control! What am I going to do with you?” she asked as the panties landed on top of her head. Maya’s eyes widened and seconds later giggles erupted. “Arlinda, I am really sorry! I have no idea what’s come over me lately, I promise!” she said, hiccupping around her laughter before promptly breaking down into tears. “Oh lord, here we go again,” Arlinda mumbled under her breath. She caught the demonic look that entered her friend’s eyes at her observation. Obviously she’d heard what she’d said. Arlinda noticed that along with the other side effects of pregnancy such as overall evilness and whims of crying jags for no apparent reason, there seemed to be an unnatural increase in auditory ability. She hastily got to her feet and removed the pincushion from her wrist. She grabbed the dangling thong off of her head to toss on the floral loveseat next to the mannequin. She walked over to Maya and sat down next to her on one of the tall, leather-backed stools. “Es no problema, chica! And I’m sorry, sweetie. I know you’re a … bit … emotional. It comes with the territory. Is everything going okay?” she asked, as she tucked a wayward curl behind Maya’s ear. “Yes. Everything is fine, Arlinda.” Maya sighed as she sniffed, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “You were right. That seems to be the way it’s all going for me lately. Laughing one minute and crying the next! I’m driving Mark insane, I think. He’s liable to leave me any minute if I keep up the crazed behavior,” she hiccupped. “Sure, Maya! It would take an act of God for that man to go anywhere away from you for any extended period of time. And, girl, even then I could see your man going toe-to-toe with the Almighty! Honey, he’s not going anywhere.” She laughed as she patted her friend on top of her head. “I don’t know, Arlinda, last week he spent an awful lot of time with Jordan. He claimed the two of them had work to do on a case, but I wasn’t buying it. I think he just wanted to get away from me!” She sighed. Arlinda attempted a parody of a smile but really felt like crying. Mark and Jordan were detectives and also partners. Arlinda had dated Jordan and they’d recently broken up. The break-up had been hard and although she knew it was for the best, that they weren’t really meant for each other, it hurt like hell when he’d been the one to suggest they break things off. She had to turn her head away at the threat of the tears she felt pricking her eyes.
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