“What are you doing here?” she asked.
Instead of answering, they continued to approach her, or was it stalking? To her disbelief, they pulled their T-shirts over their heads, revealing twin six packs. Still holding on to their tops, they started unbuttoning their jeans.
“This isn’t funny.” She couldn’t speak above a whisper.
“No,” the slightly older man said, “it isn’t. Be patient. You’ll soon understand.”
She wanted to tell them she’d never ever understand what was happening, but that would have to wait because they’d stopped and were removing their socks and shoes. Next came their jeans, drawn down over non-existent bellies and muscled thighs.
“You can’t—” she started.
“We have to.” Instead of explaining, as if there’d ever be an explanation for this, the two made short work of their briefs. They were semi-erect.
“Shit,” she whispered, then covered her face with her hands and turned her back to them. The faint popping sounds behind her made no sense, and their low gasps made her wonder if they were in pain. Any thoughts she might have had of fleeing died. When the sounds stopped, she forced herself to turn around.
Where were the men?
And where had the two magnificent stallions come from?
It couldn’t be! The nearly identical four-legged animals didn’t exist! Couldn’t. The highly arched necks, hard-muscled chests, breeze-tossed manes and long, uplifted tails were her imagination.
Despite the denial running through her, she continued to stare. They weren’t as tall as draft horses, but close. The similarity ended with height comparisons, because, unlike a Percheron or Clydesdale, these creatures were built for speed, not pulling power.
Sunlight caressed the mostly black bodies and played up where black slid into copper on their bellies and flanks. Large, pure-white splotches splayed over their chests. Their ears pointed forward as if listening for any sound she might make.
Red pranced while these two turned their gait into an art form, with high-striking front legs and unbelievably muscled hindquarters. Their nostrils flared; they held their heads high and proud. Long, thick erect penises jutted forward.
“Oh shit. Oh shit.”
The duo stopped, glanced at each other, reared in unison. She stared, uncomprehending, at prime horseflesh balanced on powerful back legs while their front legs stabbed the air. Their heads arched even tighter, making their necks bow and the tendons stand out. She waited for them to bellow like the aroused studs they were, but they remained silent. It was, she crazily concluded, as if they knew how to show themselves off to best advantage.
If only she had her camera with her.
If only this made sense.
Overwhelmed, she hugged her waist for comfort. She closed her eyes. Maybe two seconds passed before she found the courage to open them again.
The stallions were gone, the men back, their lack of expression unnerving as they redressed.
“No.” She began rocking herself. Her mind snagged on the white markings on the horses’ chests. Should have paid closer attention to them. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, she was incapable of fully comprehending what she’d just experienced.
Or imagined she’d experienced.
That was it. She’d had a mind meltdown.
Red still moved about but seemed a little less agitated. Maybe she’d locked in to Terena’s mind glitch, and that was what had upset her. Well, it wasn’t going to happen again.
Realizing she was still hugging herself and rocking, Terena forced her hands to her sides. With each step they took, the approaching men made an even greater impact on her system.
Comanche.
Was that what they were? Damn it, why couldn’t she think? Besides, what did it matter what tribe, if any, they were members of?
The day wasn’t that hot, mid-seventies with a nice breeze, but she was on fire. Praying she’d wake up from this crazy dream while reverently wishing she could stay deep inside it, she swallowed several times to work moisture back into her throat. The duo was no more than ten feet away.
“What do you want?” she asked. And how did you morph into stallions, if you did?
“Where is he?” the taller, slightly older man asked.
Ahote! Get back here. “Who are you talking about?” There was no denying their body heat or the hit-her-over-the-head sensual impact. Time needed to slow down. Hell, it should stop so she stood a chance of taking in everything she was experiencing.
“We saw you embrace him,” the apparently designated speaker said. “Who is he, your lover?”
“No. Of course not.” The speaker’s tone revealed nothing of what he was thinking. Knowing they’d come looking for Ahote—and that they’d been watching her—knocked her even more off balance. But, as overwhelmed as she felt, she wasn’t about to put her cousin at risk if she could help it. “What do you want him for?”
“That’s between him and us.”
Her short nails dug into her palms, but she couldn’t think what to do about the discomfort. Behind her, the lightning-fast Red’s breath huffed in a way peculiar to mares in heat. Oh, shit, what if Red had seen them in stud form?
“Wait a minute. If you’ve been watching us, you must have seen where Ahote went. Why are you talking to me?”
The speaker’s mouth thinned, and he squinted, the gesture highlighting faint lines at the corners of his ebony eyes. God, but he had beautiful eyes, deep and full of layers she couldn’t comprehend.
“You really have no idea why we chose to approach you?” he asked and pointedly looked down at himself.
He had an erection, his hard-on straining his jeans. If she hadn’t been so unnerved and locked on to his features, she would have already noticed what was going on below his waist. When they’d morphed into stallions—what was she thinking!—the two had been ready for sex. Obviously, that hadn’t changed.
Heated moisture pooled inside her. Some leaked out to dampen her panties. “Look, this is crazy,” she said, backing up a little. “I don’t know what the hell this is about, and unless you’re willing to spell it out to my satisfaction, I’m leaving.”
“Not yet.”
At the comment from the until now silent man, the speaker jerked his head in that direction. “It isn’t your turn,” the older, taller one snapped. “I told you—”
“Look,” she interrupted. “I’m not interested in listening to the two of you argue.” I just want to know if you have any idea what I thought I saw a few minutes ago. “You can’t keep me here. One yell from me, and—”
“You won’t.”
At the two words, the indignation she’d been trying to feed evaporated and was replaced by another heat wave. Did the man with the faint crow’s-feet know how sensual his voice was? It came from the depths of his broad chest, the sounds seeping over and into her.
Wishing for a little excitement in your life? Be careful what you wish for…
Necromancing Nim
© 2012 Katriena Knights
Nimuë Taylor thought working for a vampire would be cool. Instead it’s just like any other annoying job, complete with a boss, Colin, who drives her crazy. Other than the daily humdrum routine, nothing much exciting happens.
Until the day Sebastian, Colin’s old friend (read: ex-lover) comes to town, bearing a magical stone that can make any vampire immortal. Really immortal. He doesn’t want to use it, just keep it out of the wrong hands. Trouble is, the wrong hands are getting far too close—and the stone is slowly draining Sebastian’s life force.
When Nim unwittingly comes between the stone and its hunter, she’s bitten. Not by just any vampire, but by one whose bite turns victims into mindless zombies. Healing her involves a ritual that creates a blood bond that’s as passionate as it is dangerous.
For in the fight to keep and destroy the stone of ultimate power, one of them will have to break that bond…and make the ultimate sacrifice.
Warning: This book contains
high levels of sarcasm, swathes of swearing, sex with two hot vampires at once, and a dog that likes to eat coffee grounds.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Necromancing Nim:
It was a good thing the stop had gone well. Sebastian was leaning against the passenger-side window, sound asleep. Dark lashes fanned across his pale cheeks, and I could swear if I looked closely I could see a freckle or two. Vampires didn’t usually get my libido revving, but this one did. Except he didn’t breathe when he was asleep. That was just weird.
He was still asleep when I pulled back into my parking spot in the garage under Sixteenth Street. I poked him in the shoulder.
“Mr. Marcheleto. Wake up.”
He didn’t move. I poked him harder. “Sebastian.”
Still nothing. It occurred to me that there was no reliable way to tell if he was asleep or actually dead. Well, dead dead as opposed to normal vampire-type dead. The thought brought an uncomfortable flash of alarm. Why I was worried, I didn’t know. I didn’t even know the guy. I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Sebastian!”
He opened one eye and peered at me. “No need to shout.”
Embarrassed now, I gathered my composure. “Sorry. You wouldn’t wake up. I thought you might be…” I trailed off.
“Dead?” He snorted. “Of course I’m dead. I’m a vampire.” He shoved a hand through his short but still unruly brown hair. “I take it everything went well?”
“Yes, thank God, since you were snoring in my car.”
“If I was snoring, why did you think I might be dead?”
He had me there. “Because you were snoring figuratively, not literally.” I grabbed my purse and my clipboard. “I thought vamps only slept in the daytime.”
He grimaced. “It’s the burns. They’re trying to heal, and I need the extra rest.”
It made sense, especially since he was so obviously undernourished. “Are you sure you want to just barge in? You’re sort of an escaped convict at the moment.” I really didn’t want to leave him out here in the parking garage, though. He’d probably be safe, but the place creeped me out, and it seemed unwise, not to mention impolite, to leave him there alone.
He nodded. “Just tell Colin I’m here. We’ll go from there.”
I considered. “No.”
“No?”
“I don’t think you should be left alone.” I could tell he was about to protest and waved him quiet, the answer to the dilemma suddenly obvious. I emptied the pockets of my hoodie, pulled it off and handed it to him. “Put this on,” I said. “Use the hood to cover up a little.” He peered skeptically at me, then at the hoodie. “Yeah, yeah, so I’m half your height. You’re skinny. Put it on.”
Still dubious, he slid the hoodie on. I get them big so I can layer—a necessity in Denver’s capricious weather—so it actually almost fit him. He put the hood up, letting it fall over his face.
“Perfect,” I said, ignoring his narrow wrists poking out of the too-short sleeves. “Let’s go.”
I had to admit I was curious as to what might have been the deal between Sebastian and my boss. This was the first time I’d heard of Colin having any friends to speak of, much less friends who would come to him for help in a bind. Not that I knew much about Colin to begin with. He played his personal life pretty close to the vest. I wasn’t even sure he had one. Which was surprising, since he was big and gorgeous and had that commanding, alpha-male air that a lot of women who were not me seemed to like.
Rather than barge in through the front door and the waiting area, I led Sebastian around to the side entrance that opened into the hallway behind my minuscule office space.
“Have a seat in there,” I told him. “Stay low, and I’ll go get Colin.”
He peered into the cramped room. “This is your office?”
“Yeah.” I quirked an eyebrow. “You wanted to comment?”
His mouth twitched. “It’s a good thing you’re tiny.”
Rolling my eyes, I left him there to squeeze his way into a chair. Maybe he and Colin had something in common after all.
In the reception area, Colin was camped out on Kim’s desk again, sitting a little hunched, arms crossed over his wide chest, glaring at the TV. Kim drilled holes in his back with her eyeballs, like she was about to kill him or at the very least turn in her resignation. I couldn’t blame her. I’d had her job once. It hadn’t gone well. Which was why I was in collections now.
I paused just behind her. The reason for Colin’s death glare at the TV became immediately obvious. The news was running a story regarding Sebastian’s escape. They’d upgraded him from the headline tractor at the bottom of the screen to a full-fledged story.
“…the suspect should be considered extremely dangerous,” the newscaster was saying. “If you see anyone matching this description, call local law enforcement immediately. In addition, be on the lookout for Therese Wilkins, five feet eight, brown hair…”
Colin scrunched his brow up even more and gave me a glance. “Back already?”
I reluctantly dragged my attention away from the TV. I’d wanted to hear more about Therese Wilkins, the victim of the Brown Palace murder that wasn’t a murder anymore. “Yeah.” I handed him the clipboard. “I’m done. And we need to talk.”
He nodded curtly, jumped off Kim’s desk and headed for his office.
“My office,” I said. He wheeled and stared at me like I’d spoken something other than English. “My. Office,” I said again, gesturing with my eyebrows toward the room in question.
“Ooo-kay,” he said and followed me. Kim watched us go, and the smile she gave me was one of abject adoration. I guess she was extra happy I’d gotten his ass off her desk. Personally, I was surprised he’d decided to take orders from me.
I led the way into the office, probably acting far more suspicious than necessary. Nobody was paying much attention to us, more focused on the clock and how long it was until midnight when they could all grab some lunch. Colin’s air of skeptical superiority held until I pushed open the door; then, just for a millisecond, he wasn’t glaring.
“Sebastian?”
Sebastian, sitting hunched over in the chair behind my desk, jumped as if he’d started to doze off again. Colin moved to him, sliding around desk and chairs with a surprising grace I’d never seen from him before, and gently touched Sebastian’s face, avoiding the angry burns. My eyebrows shot up. That was more than just a casual touch. In fact, it seemed possible they didn’t just know each other but knew each other. Like in the biblical sense. I decided to keep my mouth shut for once, though resisting temptation was so hard it caused actual physical pain.
Sebastian blinked, then opened his eyes as Colin’s touch shifted, his fingers tracing the edges of the raw, red sun marks. They had faded even in the last hour or so but still looked harsh and painful.
Sebastian’s hand rose to touch Colin’s, moving it away from the sores on his face. It was a gentle contact, though, and his fingers lingered. “Colin?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” He drew his hand back. “You okay?”
Sebastian pushed himself up in the chair. “Still alive,” he said, then added with a wry smile, “Or whatever.”
Wicked Wonderland
Lisa Whitefern
It’s a lovely night for a sleigh ride— until something evil takes the reins.
When Nick and Kris, the half-fae sons of human mothers, aren’t using Santa’s sleigh in the off-season to make deliveries for their booming sex toy business, they’re setting off sensual fireworks in the bedroom.
Yet they dream of a feminine third to complete their lives. There’s only one woman they can picture filling that role: Lilly, the girl they both dated in college.
Lilly thought earning extra money stripping was a good plan, until she’s left battered, bruised, and stuffed in a back-alley trash can. He rescuers turn out to be the dark, brooding dom and the golden-haired sub whose faces—and shockingly entwined bodies—are still the stuff of her most searing fantasies.
While she’s more than willing to take them up on their offer of one perfect night of magic, she questions whether anyone can break into Nick and Kris’s powerful bond. But there’s someone who’s been waiting for this moment all Lilly’s life. An evil psychopath who holds the secrets of her past—unless Nick and Kris can unravel them in time to save her from a fate worse than death.
Warning: Explicit ménage a trois, hot m/f/m scenes, hot male/male scenes, a ruthless stalker who torments the heroine, sex toys, sex on roof tops, spankings, BDSM, Dark Fae, birdmen, orphans, strippers, centaurs, a violent battle between good and evil creatures on board a ship, true love, and sex in Santa’s sleigh.
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They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Wicked Wonderland
Copyright © 2012 by Lisa Whitefern
ISBN: 978-1-61921-213-8
Edited by Linda Ingmanson
Cover by Valerie Tibbs
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com
Lisa Whitefern, Wicked Wonderland
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