Burning Up

  Marin's big brown eyes went huge. Then, thank the Red God, her little face screwed up with effort.

  And she vanished.

  Korban's chanting broke off in a startled yelp, and his hands jerked as if losing their hold. He flailed as if trying to recapture the child who'd just magicked herself invisible and squirmed from his grip.

  "Hit the ground, Marin!" Amaris screamed.

  The child instantly appeared, her body drawn into a ball as she lay on the stone floor. The wizard started to swoop down and grab her up again.

  Raniero ran forward, swinging his sword in a furious upward blow. It cleaved through Korban's neck in one clean stroke, and the wizard's head went flying.

  But even as his body fell, the Blood Orb flashed a horrifying crimson. A trail of red light started draining from the wizard's headless body into the globe, which began to pulse brighter.

  Raniero froze in horror. "Red God's Balls! Korban's death has completed the spell!"

  Her heart turning into a solid block of ice, Amaris realized he was right. Though the death of an innocent would have provided more power, any death at all would fuel the spell. In moments, it would activate and rip the barrier apart. And once it fell, the Varil would invade.

  Unless . . .

  "We've got to redirect the spell."

  "It's too complicated--there's no time!"

  "I can do it!" She stared hard at the pattern of swirling energies, reading them, finding the spot where the spell could be warped, turned to a new purpose. Throwing out both hands, she began to chant, sending her magic swirling toward the chink in the spell.

  It was like trying to redirect floodwaters with her bare hands. The spell roared along the channel Korban had constructed, ignoring her efforts to turn it in a new direction. Amaris gritted her teeth and kept trying. She was damned if they'd fall to the Varil after suffering so much, fighting so hard.

  But even as she strained to turn the magic, she knew she simply didn't have enough power.

  Until strong fingers wrapped around her shoulders, and a new stream of magic joined that rolling down her arms.

  Raniero's.

  The vampire joined his will to hers, reinforcing her magic, working to warp the spell into the new shape she willed for it. And slowly, reluctantly, the spell twisted, took on the form she demanded.

  The mystical energies pouring through the Great Barrier began adding to its strength instead of weakening it.

  Somewhere in the distance, Amaris thought she heard reptilian voices howl in rage. Perhaps it was her imagination.

  But it made her grin anyway.

  Even as she smiled, the Blood Orb hit the stones of the battlements and shattered.

  Silence fell.

  It was so quiet, Amaris could hear her own panting along with Raniero's deeper breaths. She felt dizzy, exhausted with blood loss and effort.

  "Ama'is!" Her sister flung her small warm body against Amaris's thighs, almost bowling her over. "Ama'is, you saved me!"

  She dropped to her wobbling knees and wrapped shaking arms around the little girl. "I had help." Amaris met Raniero's eyes, and let her own gratitude show. "I had a lot of help."

  He leaned down and kissed her over the child's head, quick and hard. She smiled at him as he drew away, knowing a promise when she tasted one.

  They limped into the great hall, where the guards and castle folk slept together on thin pallets. At the ring of Raniero's boots on the stone, Korban's warriors jolted awake and rose with a mass growl--only to fall silent in staring astonishment at the sight of their lord's head, swinging by its bloody hair from Raniero's right hand.

  The left held Blue Stripe's decapitated skull by one long ear. Amaris carried Cari'f's head as her own gory trophy, a chilling grin of triumph pasted on her face.

  Together, the lovers strolled to the dais through the stunned crowd, Marin walking solemnly behind them. Amaris's heart was knotted in her throat, but she knew that the castle had to be reclaimed for the king.

  Besides, she was frankly too tired to run from these bastards anyway.

  Raniero dumped his burden on the dais, then flung himself into the lord's chair. Amaris dropped the head she carried next to the other two, then moved to stand behind his chair, secretly bracing herself against it as the room spun around her. Despite the healing spell, she'd lost far too much blood. Marin leaned against his knee and gave the crowd a little smirk that warmed Amaris's heart. Despite everything she'd been through, the child's spirit was intact.

  Raniero's deep voice rang across the stillness of the great hall. "I have a message from your king."

  He gestured a spell, and a huge image appeared in the air over the hall. Ferran's face stared out from it, rage in his golden eyes, a muscle flexing in his handsome cheek. He wore full armor, and he spoke from horseback. "I ride to Tzira Castle with my forces. When I arrive, I shall investigate your lord's crimes. I expect you to give Lord Investigator Raniero your full obedience in the meantime." He paused and swept his gaze over the crowd, which visibly cowered. "Lord Raniero pointed out that many of you were simply following the orders of your lord. He urges me to mercy. We shall see if he is of the same opinion when I arrive."

  The image winked out. Raniero contemplated the pale faces staring at him. "I trust," he said at last, "you will give me your full obedience?"

  Heads nodded rapidly all the length of the room.

  Leaning against the back of his throne, Amaris smiled in tired satisfaction.

  TEN

  Three Weeks Later

  "A Rose and a fief," Raniero said, settling against the pile of silken pillows in the lord's bed. "I never thought to receive such a boon."

  "Well, you did save the kingdom," Amaris pointed out, settling in next to him. "Naturally the king was grateful."

  He gave her a look. "We saved the kingdom."

  "So we did." She leaned into his warm, muscled side, and he wrapped an arm around her.

  King Ferran had decided Tzira Castle was too important to be entrusted to anyone except a man he was utterly sure of. Which meant Raniero, though the king sighed that he was loathe to lose his best investigator.

  It was not a gift Raniero was inclined to turn down.

  Ferran had showered gifts on Amaris, too, in recognition for her efforts to prevent the loss of the kingdom. There'd been gold and jewels and bolts of fine fabric, but more important, he'd given her the pick of his staff. She'd selected a calm, experienced nurse from among them to care for Marin. The woman and Amaris's sister were now abed in the next chamber down the corridor, in an airy room full of the toys the king had presented to his "little heroine."

  Now, for the first time in weeks, Amaris and Raniero were finally alone, without either the king to entertain or Marin to reassure.

  Raniero cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "It strikes me that the king may have made too many assumptions."

  Amaris looked up at him, lifting a brow. "Oh?"

  "Yes." He swallowed. "The fief might have been his to give, but not the Rose. And I would not have you if it's but a matter of duty."

  Amaris stared at him, incredulous. "Duty?"

  He nodded, his eyes serious as he looked down into her face. "I know your sense of honor is strong, but . . ."

  She stretched upward until her mouth met his in a kiss that blazed with all the heat and passion she felt down to her soul. His lips parted under the fierce assault, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth.

  Stroked, licked, tasted.

  When she finally drew back, she saw with satisfaction that Raniero's eyes looked a little dazed. "Did that feel like duty, my lord?"

  He licked his lips. "No. It felt like . . ." He stopped and swallowed.

  "Love." Amaris did not let her eyes drop, though a part of her wanted to flinch at the nakedness of the word.

  But she trusted him. She'd learned out there on the battlements that Raniero was not like those who'd betrayed her. He was a man who could be trusted unto deat
h.

  So she met his eyes and said it again. "I love you, Raniero."

  Light flared in his eyes, bright with relief and passion. "And I love you, Amaris."

  Then his mouth covered hers, and he hauled her into his arms. As Raniero kissed her with starved intensity, his hands began to explore, cupping first one breast, then the other, thumb playing back and forth over the nipple that hardened hungrily under his touch. She kissed him back, a slow mating of tongue and lip and careful nipping teeth, reveling in the taste of him, male and magic.

  "You drove me mad in that cell," he growled against her mouth, "touching me when I couldn't touch you, fucking me half blind while I was chained and helpless."

  "Mmm," she purred, remembering those sweet, wild rides. "As I recall, you were well-revenged by that wicked mouth of yours. That sly tongue touched plenty. I thought I would lose my mind."

  "Serves you right." Chuckling, Raniero danced his fingers down her torso, following the curve of her belly down to the soft nest between her legs. He rumbled a growl as he found her already growing slick and swollen. "You tasted so sweet." White teeth flashed. "In fact, I find myself hungering for more."

  Amaris yelped a giggle as he tumbled her back on the bed and began to work his way down her torso, pausing for a nip here, a suckle there. Her breasts drew him into a passionate detour for a sweet eternity that was far too short, his tongue circling each nipple in turn, drawing wet runes that set her blood ablaze. She squirmed and sighed as he stiffened his tongue to flick and tease, then used his teeth with gentle ruthlessness until she quivered.

  Finally he continued down her body, exploring the rise of her rib cage with kisses, pausing to swirl his tongue into her belly button. She laughed at the cool tickle, threading her hands into his long, dark hair.

  But when he finally settled between her legs, she lost all urge to laugh. The width of his powerful shoulders nudged her thighs apart, and he wrapped his strong arms around her legs as he lay full length down the bed.

  Amaris lifted her head to watch with breathless attention as he tilted his head, considering her sex. His dark eyes flicked up to meet her gaze, and he gave her a wicked white grin.

  The first pass of his tongue between her swollen folds made her quiver in helpless need. He licked again, slow and lazy as a cat cleaning his paws, each creamy stroke sending jolts of pleasure sizzling up her spine. Gasps and whimpers escaped her lips as he tasted her as though she dripped honey, deliberate, maddening, spinning rapture over her like a spell. She could almost see the golden glow of his magic behind her eyelids.

  And still his tongue worked, dancing over her clit, sliding between her folds, thrusting deep into her core. As though that wicked enchantment wasn't enough, he reached up around her thighs to squeeze and tease her nipples, winding the delight tighter and tighter.

  The orgasm stormed out of nowhere, shaking her body, jerking the muscles of her thighs like lute strings. She screamed at the sheer sweet glory blazing through her mind.

  When Amaris could see again, he was braced over her on one hand as he aimed his thick, hungry cock with the other. "Oh, yes!" She drew her legs wide in welcome.

  Raniero entered in a slow, luscious slide, groaning in delight. "Red God's Balls, you're tight," he panted.

  And he felt so deliciously thick, a tunneling pleasure that seemed to reach halfway to her waist. His withdrawal was just as careful, a sweet, silken delight. Dazzled, she looked up at him as he braced his arms to either side of her shoulders, biting his lip as if he fought to control himself. His dark eyes seemed to glow with feral need as he thrust in and out.

  A need for something more than sex. A need she felt just as powerfully.

  Hypnotized by that need, she stared up into his eyes, admiring the flush riding his high cheekbones, the sensual curve of his mouth, the white tips of his fangs showing between his parted lips.

  Raniero picked up the pace, nostrils flaring like a racing stallion's. Each long thrust jolted her closer and closer to explosion. Gasping, she hooked her heels over his thighs and ground upward, meeting him with rolling hips.

  The climax exploded in her core like a blast of magic, primal and savage. As she threw back her head to scream, he bent his arms, lowering himself over her, his black eyes wild and hungry. His lifted upper lip displayed the length of his teeth.

  Knowing what he wanted, what he needed, she angled her head to offer him her throat. "Now, oh, now!"

  The touch of his hot lips and the cool slice of his teeth kicked her climax even higher. Thrusting heavily, he began to drink. She fisted her hands in the silk of his hair, gasping with the feral intensity of her pleasure.

  They lay together in the aftermath, panting, sweat sheening their skin in the moonlight that poured through the window. Amaris stroked his strong back slowly, feeling a sweet contentment she'd never known.

  Until he raised his wrist to his mouth and sliced his fangs across the skin. Blood welled as he met her gaze, an odd vulnerability in his eyes. "Will you drink from me?"

  Amaris blinked at him in dumbfounded surprise. She'd heard of this in the Garden, but she'd never expected a vampire to make such an offer.

  For a vampire to share his blood with his Rose linked them in magic, heart to heart, soul to soul.

  "Oh, yes," Amaris breathed, joy blazing through her like sunlight.

  He tasted like love, and she smiled against his skin, knowing neither of them would ever be alone again.

  SHIFTING SEA

  Virginia Kantra

  This one is for Kristen, to read in a hammock.

  And to my wonderful readers--thank you!

  ONE

  Scotland, 1813

  Major John Harris squinted between his horse's ears, willing himself to ignore the throbbing in his knee and the pounding like hoofbeats in his head.

  He had survived the bloody siege of Ciudad Rodrigo. He would not die of a hangover now that he was home.

  Now that he had a home.

  And all his limbs.

  He had not expected either outcome. He was a man used to dealing with life's harsher realities. But he could not be sorry that life, for once, had frustrated his worst expectations.

  He lifted his face, letting the wind tatter the remnants of his nightmare and blow his hangover out to sea. The air smelled of earth and sea, brush and brine. Neptune jingled his bridle, bobbing his massive head in approval. The rawboned gray had carried Jack unflinchingly on the winter retreat from Corunna and through the long, blistering march to Talavera, but the Peninsular war against Napoleon had left the big horse scarred and past his prime.

  Like his rider, Jack admitted ruefully. At least Neptune seemed to be taking the transition to civilian life in stride.

  Lucky beast.

  In the weeks since his cousin's lawyers had found him in a stinking Lisbon hospital, Jack had learned to walk again without a cane and to sleep again in a room with four walls. But he was as ignorant as the rawest ensign when it came to managing his unexpected inheritance.

  He was a soldier, not a farmer, determined to carry out his duty to the best of his ability, grimly aware that his tenants' lives depended on his decisions as surely as his troops' had. He only hoped his best would be good enough.

  The rutted road meandered over hills as worn as his bones. The land--his land, now--swept in a ragged curve around the harbor, anchored at one end by the peaked roofs and chimneys of Arden Hall and on the other by furrowed cliffs. Fishing boats bobbed in the shining flat water. A bleak, spare church, an unprofitable inn, and a score of small dark houses clung like mussels to the rocks, their inhabitants prickly as barnacles and closemouthed as clams.

  Jack was used to bivouacking in hostile countryside. But Spanish bandits had nothing on these stubborn Scots. Almost a third of his tenants were Highlanders driven west by the Clearances and carrying a grudge against all things English.

  Including their new landlord.

  Jack closed his knees, urging his horse onward, leavin
g the village behind. His thoughts clamored, restless and strident as the seabirds haunting the cliffs. He could hear their plaintive cries slicing the air, the rush of wind drumming in his ears, the waves curling to shore like distant music, like singing.

  Actual singing, he registered in surprise.

  A woman's voice, husky and cool, rising and falling with the breeze, tangling him in lines of music, knotting in his soul.

  He stopped, searching the shore below for the singer. Just beyond the reach of the tide, in a patch of tangled garden and blowing grass, a cottage nestled in the shelter of the rock.

  Jack narrowed his eyes. Who would choose to live beyond the village outskirts, outside the protection of the harbor and neighbors?

  A flash of white at the water's edge caught his gaze, a billow of movement like a sail.

  Not a sail. A woman's skirts, a woman's hair, flowing loose in the wind, shining like seafoam in the sun.

  His breath caught. Her song plucked his heart from his chest. She was all white and gold like an angel in a dream, a vision concocted of loneliness and spray and too much whiskey.

  Neptune snorted, his ironshod hooves slipping on the rock.

  Jack tightened the reins, collecting his horse, recovering his balance. The angelic vision became simply a girl without hat or shawl, singing a song he'd never heard in a language he did not know.

  Who was she?

  One of his tenants, he thought, setting Neptune at the descent. A fisher's wife, a farmer's daughter, a serving girl perhaps. No gentlewoman went bonnet-less and barefoot on the beach.

  At the sound of their approach, the song ceased. The girl turned, pushing back her tumbled hair with one hand. The pose and the wind molded her gown to her body.

  Lust slammed into Jack like a bullet.

  She was tall and lovely, her breasts high and round, her skin as pale as pearl. Her face was almost savage in its beauty, her broad jaw and level brow balanced by a full mouth and strong cheekbones.

  Jack sat like stone, his blood pounding in his head and his groin. Beneath him, Neptune stood like a monument, iron muscles quivering.

  He should say something, Jack thought at last. Reassure her. He was a stranger, after all, and she was alone.