Passion Unbound 1: Wild Knights Tawny Taylor Copyright ©2011 Tawny Taylor Smashwords Edition This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. And thus it was from the beginning of time. Two knights. One bride. They whispered their story to The Chosen, a human endowed with the gift of Hearing… The Chosen wrote the story and released it into the human world. The bait was set. The spell was cast. And then they waited… -- from the Ierd Kimeno, the sacred text of the Twelfth Knight Brotherhood
*** Secretary Maggie Dunning loves her romance novels. Her favorite -- Conquered by the Knight, the story of two dominant, sexy shapeshifters, Xander and Bastien. To be possessed by two powerful Masters? Heavy, happy, lust-filled sigh! But that’s just fantasy. It could never happen in real life… right? Little did she know that a paper cut and a few muttered words would make all her fantasies come to life, including the hunky Xander and Bastien. One minute she’s cozy in bed sleeping, the next she’s dragged into a world she’d thought only existed in her imagination, to face her most secret desires… and her worst fears. Bastien and Xander have their own challenges to face -- a crime to investigate and a dangerous threat to the Twelfth Night Brotherhood to uncover. But they won’t let that stop them from seizing their fascinating new bride and introducing her to the ecstasy of complete surrender. Chapter 1 Bastien’s gaze was smoldering, his thickly muscled body rigid, ready -- to take. To conquer. She shuddered as her second Master, Xander, crowded her from behind, capturing her wrists in one huge fist. He pressed his hulking frame against her back and forced her arms up over her head. To be possessed by two powerful, dominant men. It was her most secret fantasy, a dream that was about to become reality… Maggie Dunning sighed, tucked a sticky note in her book to keep her page, and dropped the worn, dog-eared paperback into her desk drawer. She’d read Conquered by the Knight at least ten times since she’d bought it a couple months ago, and yet she couldn’t resist coming back to it again and again. The story so profoundly touched her that she missed the characters the minute she closed the book. If only she could find a real guy like either of the book’s drool-worthy heroes, Bastien or Xander. She’d dated enough men to know the strong, heroic type was a rare breed, indeed. Most definitely endangered in northeast Michigan. But oh how amazing it would be to have such dominating, attentive and caring lovers. Where were they hiding? In Michigan’s upper peninsula, perhaps? Where the landscape was still wild, the climate as unpredictable as the tough men who lived there? Hmmmm… maybe she’d head north for her next vacation. If she took a vacation next year. Her head a million miles away, or rather a little more than five hundred, she finished up her last bit of typing, addressed some Christmas cards for tomorrow’s mail, filed some paperwork and ran next door to get her boss some dinner -- a Reuben on rye, extra thousand island dressing and a side of onion rings -- death on a plate. Then, another work week finished and another dollar earned, she waved goodbye to the quiet old gentleman with the sparkly eyes. “Have a good weekend.”
A mischievous smile hinting at the troublemaker he’d probably once been, Mr. Holloway returned her wave. Sweet old man. Called himself a life insurance salesman, but he rarely sold much of anything anymore. She knew he just kept her around because he was lonely, and that was fine with her. She loved her job. Humming a slightly off-key rendition of “Sleigh Ride,” she headed out of the diminutive building, sandwiched between the deli and an antique shop, and slipped and slid her way to her car parked behind the building. A constant stream of Christmas music kept her company during the short drive home. Since her husband’s death, this was the time of day she looked forward to most. The world outside her apartment building was quiet and dark. She sat cozy and warm in her living room, a crocheted afghan spread across her lap while she caught up with her favorite reality show and slowly consumed her nuked Lean Cuisine. The need for sustenance addressed, and her daily dose of television administered, it was time to be swept away into the world of her fantasies -- or, more specifically, into Xander and Bastien’s world of erotic domination and submission. Yay! She clapped her hands together and dug into her bag, where she’d stowed her book. Sometime later, after enjoying a particularly stimulating passage, where Xander and Bastien both made love to the heroine -- at the same time! -- she lifted her tired, bleary eyes to check the clock. A little after midnight. How the time flew when she was consumed by a story. She ran her fingers along the top edge of a page as she reached for her lukewarm glass of Diet Coke, accidentally giving herself a paper cut. “Ow, ow, ow! Darn it!” A single fat, scarlet droplet landed smack dab in the middle of the page she’d just read. She immediately tucked the injured digit into her mouth, skimming the last paragraph she’d read. This was what she’d been searching for all her life. Never had she expected to find one lover who knew her so well, let alone two. And not only did they seek to fulfill her physical needs, but her mental and emotional ones as well. They understood her. They cherished her and protected her. Xander and Bastien were her fantasy men come to life… “Oh, to be cherished.” She heaved a sad sigh. Since Jack Dunning’s unexpected death, her life had been wonderful. She had peace. Enough money to keep her in Lean Cuisines. And she was free. Yet she couldn’t help admitting there was something missing -- love. A kind but strong man who adored her and built her up instead of tearing her down. Would she ever meet a guy like that? Or were men like that not only endangered, but gone the way of the dinosaurs? “Where are you, Bastien and Xander? Come, find me, won’t you?” she muttered around a mouthful of throbbing finger. Too tired to read any longer, she closed her book and headed to bed. Tomorrow, after running a few errands, doing a little Christmas shopping for the niece she never saw, she’d have plenty of time to spend with her two favorite men. Maybe it hadn’t always been this way, but life was good. Not perfect, but very, very pleasant. ***
She felt their presence before she was fully awake. Someone, or rather several someones, were in her bedroom. Broken in. Should’ve forked over the extra hundred dollars a month for the apartment with the security system and intercom. What now? Playing possum until she could think of what to do, she made a conscious effort to keep her breathing slow and steady -- no easy task, considering she was petrified. Her heart was beating faster than a hummingbird’s, and a mega-dose of adrenaline was pounding through her veins. What did these guys want? How many were there? She heard at least two sets of footsteps treading softly across the carpet. They were coming closer to her bed. To her. Ack! This couldn’t be good. Her eyes still closed, she tensed her arms and legs and psyched herself up for what promised to be a harrowing escape. She’d never had to run for her life before. Would she make it? She wasn’t exactly athletic. Nor did she know a lick of self defense, outside of the tried and true kick-’em-in-the-balls routine. The footsteps stopped. She guessed there were two intruders, both standing on the same side of the bed. This was both good and bad, since that side also happened to lead to the most direct route out of the room. On the count of three. One, two… Two and a half… Two and three quarters… Two and five eights… Something brushed the side of her face. Three! She snapped open her eyes, log-rolled to the far side of the bed, and landed on the floor with a heavy thud. Her head smacked into the corner of her nightstand. “Ouch! Dammit!” Twinkling stars obscuring her vision, she staggered to her feet and groped her way down the side of her bed. The sound of someone racing toward her, coupled with the slowly clearing image of two enormous males headed her way, inspired her to speed up her progress toward the door. Full speed ahead, she made a desperate dash for freedom. A blow from behind sent her tumbling to the floor but she didn’t let that stop her. Escape. Door. Ohmygod! Panic mounting, she scrabbled on hands and knees, her gaze fixed on her target. Unfortunately, she was stopped dead in her tracks when some two hundred plus pounds of lean, hard male landed on top of her, literally flattening her to the floor. Her nose jammed painfully into the carpet, the musty odor giving rise to an irrational vow to have the carpet steam cleaned if she got out of this situation alive. She wheezed, struggling to refill her oxygen-starved lungs with air, and squirmed, the adrenaline now blasting through her body in massive tidal waves, giving her a strength she hadn’t known she possessed. She fought like a pissed-off wolverine, yet it wasn’t enough. The man on top of her easily overpowered her. Before she could beg for mercy, she was dragged to her feet and forced to face her captor for the first time. Ohhhh…
A strange and completely inappropriate ripple of desire turned her thoughts from the business of escape to the pleasures she might gain by abandoning a few inhibitions. A stunning man. In her bedroom. The possibilities were endless but oh so much fun to imagine. Uh… what the heck was wrong with her? She’d just imagined herself getting naked with this stranger! Oh my God. Both puzzled and intrigued, she rubbed the tender spot on her head while twisting around to see where the other guy was hiding. Gone? There had been two, hadn’t there? She had seen two men. Did she have a closed head injury? Bleeding on the brain? Double vision? She grappled for a reasonable explanation for her confused state, her runaway imagination, and the bizarre urges sweeping through her body. Unsteady, warm, and not nearly as scared as she figured she should be, she turned to face the man who she assumed had knocked her down. Wow. And wow again. Tall. Dark. And dangerous. Yes, that he was. With sharp eyes, angular cheekbones, deep brown wavy hair and lips that inspired erotic fantasies wicked enough to make her blush. He made last month’s Playgirl centerfold look like regurgitated dog meat. Frightened and befuddled, she staggered backward. Her knees buckled, and someone caught her from behind, pinning her arms against her back and supporting her with a pair of seriously strong hands. Okay, there had been two intruders. She hadn’t been seeing things. So where’d Number Two been hiding? The man looming before her sure was big, possessed a presence that left her mouth dry. She tried to speak but all that came out was a little yelp. Number Two tugged her backward until her arms were smooshed between her body and his. More heat whooshed through her, making her simultaneously sweat and shiver. She supposed if a girl had to be attacked in her bedroom, in the middle of the night, by strange men, it could be worse. She hadn’t been hurt. Her assailant was easy on the eyes. And so far no one was whipping out knives or guns. “There is nothing to fear. We will not hurt you,” Attacker Number One said in a deep, bedroom voice. Yet another pulse of desire pounded through her system. She twisted her wrists in a half-assed attempt at breaking free. Her wrist brushed against a very noticeable bulge. The fact that Number Two had a hard-on should’ve frozen her blood to ice. But quite the contrary, it was spiking her body temperature to near lethal levels. Ironic, but she’d seen this scenario in a book once, and she’d immediately dismissed the heroine as too-stupid-to-live because she hadn’t busted out the Kung-fu moves and kicked some kidnapper ass. But now she was here, and they were there. And Attacker Number One was looking at her like he was about to eat her alive -- in a very good way -- she could see where that heroine was coming from. It wasn’t every day a girl had a man who looked like a god giving her a second look, let alone an I-have-verynaughty-plans-for-you look.
This scene sure didn’t inspire her to inflict damage to his dangly parts. Quite the contrary, a few bits of her anatomy decided it was party time. Krumping and breakdancing ensued. Her blood rushed to her groin. And her tongue swelled to fill her entire mouth… or so it seemed. In all reality, she just stood there, tongue-tied and pathetically drooling at the good looking guy who’d decided to pay her an impromptu nocturnal visit. Was he going to say something? Anything? Why was he here? What did he want with her? A thought struck her. Mr. Studly could’ve broken into the wrong apartment. There was the blonde chick she loved to hate, the one with the world’s most perfect tits. Blonde Chick lived in the next apartment. Surely that was the kind of girl a guy who looked this scrumptious would want to visit at two in the morning. Life was so unfair! With cold reality slapping her in the face, the ability to communicate finally returned to her, and she managed to mutter, “I’m guessing you’re looking for apartment Three-A?” Studly’s eyes never left hers. “No.” His tongue swept across his lower lip, and she wondered what it might feel like to have that mouth slanted over top of hers. Naturally, she didn’t expect something so shocking, so impossible, to ever happen. She wouldn’t even dream it. That was, until Mr. Studly gave her the shock of her life by sauntering up to her, capturing her upper arms in his fists, and dragging her forward until there wasn’t but a whisper between her soft curves and his hard bulk. She gave a little “eep” of surprise before going brain dead. Uhhhhh… He was tipping his head to one side? His gaze was focusing on her mouth! He was going to… kiss her? Ohmygod, ohmygod… Oh. My. God! Had she died and gone to heaven? Was the man with the soft, yummy lips an angel? If so, she’d clearly been a very, very good girl. Must’ve been those countless Sundays spent in Catechism as a kid. Who would’ve thought singing some songs and reading a few bible stories would earn her a heavenly reward like this? His grip on her upper arms tightened to the point of distraction. Yet she couldn’t even think of complaining. His mouth was so gentle, so absolutely delish, she could have cared less what the rest of him was doing. His tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and being an accommodating type of girl, she welcomed it inside, where it stroked and teased and tormented hers. She was beside herself with wanton lust in a single heartbeat. It had, after all, been a long, long time since she’d been kissed. And never kissed so well. As Mr. Amazing Lips broke the kiss, her knees threatened to buckle again. In fact, they did. The world around her started spinning round and round, and she closed her eyes to shut out the dizzying sight. Before she could question why all this was happening, she found herself the meat in a studly-man sandwich, the two pieces of bread supporting her wobbly body while she weathered the dizzy spell.
And then it was over. And the sensation of big, burly bodies pressing possessively against her much smaller and softer one was gone. Awwww, man. It had been only a dream. A very vivid one, but a dream nevertheless. Perhaps her boss was right, she had been reading too many romance novels? Nahhhh. That was just silly. A chill swept up her chest and goose bumps prickled the skin of her arms and shoulders. Had she been sleepwalking? Again? She blinked open her eyes, expecting to find herself lying on her living room couch, or even out in the hallway. Uh. Oh. Where was she? Stone walls? Stone floor? A tiny glassless window… Oh God, she was naked! Confused and panicking, she hugged herself, a pathetic -- and most definitely failing -- attempt at hiding her most embarrassingly naked parts, and sprinted for the heavy wooden door on the other side of the tiny room. Only one thought registered in her head -- must go home! The door groaned open, the rusty hinges creaking. She staggered out into the corridor, dark, narrow, and terrifying. Which way? Right? Left? Both ends of the hallway seemed to be swallowed up in heavy, black shadows. She couldn’t see where it ended. Where it began. She couldn’t see much of anything. Again, where was she? And why was she naked? The damp walls of hewn stone and musty odor of stale air reminded her of a tunnel. Or a cave. Or even the bowels of a castle. How the heck had she gotten here? This made no sense. Suddenly feeling woozy, she staggered back into the room. It reminded her of an ancient dungeon or prison cell, dreary and sparsely furnished. She dropped onto the rickety wooden cot sitting along one wall. Fear made her cold and hot at the same time. Her face heated while shivers quaked up her spine. Stop panicking! Think. She forced herself to take a couple of slow, deep breaths. Okay. Someone had brought her here. That same someone would come and explain what was going on… sooner or later. Right? Should she sit here and wait? Or go out and search for answers? She was naked. Did she really want anyone seeing her like this? She glanced down at her pasty thighs, the lumpy skin spreading out from her hips. Her flabby stomach. Oh God, no. It was too shameful to let anyone see her nude, even her doctor. She’d go with Plan A, sit and wait. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all this. Or maybe someone had made a mistake. There were no dungeons in Michigan. No castles. No caves or tunnels. And it wasn’t like she’d been hurt, outside of a bruised ego at being stripped of her clothes. No use panicking prematurely when there was no immediate danger to be seen. Arms wrapped around herself to try to ward off the chill, she settled in for what she hoped wouldn’t be a long wait. But then the distant echo of a woman’s scream made her instantly doubt the wisdom of Plan A. She set Plan B into motion at the second hair-splitting shriek.
Chapter 2 Plan B, run like hell, was working for Maggie pretty well for the first thirty seconds or so. Until she saw Mr. Perfect Kisser striding toward her, a determined scowl giving his handsome face a cruel edge. Pretty sure he was not there to throw her a welcome party, she did a one-eighty and headed in the opposite direction. She had yet to figure out where she was going, but at the moment, she didn’t care. All she knew was that someone, some woman who had probably also woken up to find herself in this dark and frightening place, had just belted out a screech of terror. Or pain. Or both. There was no way she was going to sit around and wait for the same thing -whatever might have inspired that scream -- to happen to her too. Something was very wrong here. Wrong with this place. Wrong with the man behind her… who wasn’t really chasing her, more following at a casual stroll. Sure he was beyond sexy, but he had to be bent. Missing a few screws. A few cards shy of a full deck. And a half dozen or so other clichés. He’d kidnapped her! Why? How? What had happened in her room? The kiss. That had to be it. He’d slipped her a drug when he’d kissed her. Maybe he’d pushed a capsule into her mouth. Or spit some kind of liquid. Or injected something. That’s why she’d gotten so dizzy. She’d probably passed out. Who knew how long she’d been unconscious? Gosh, he could’ve smuggled her out of the state, or even the country. Maybe he’d sold her to some Arab guy in the desert, to become part of a harem… or maybe he was a vampire and he’d taken her to his castle in Romania? Or she could’ve been stolen by aliens and taken as a sex slave on another planet? If she was really open-minded, all of those possibilities were believable. Heck, she’d read at least a dozen novels about those very scenarios the last few months, including Bastien and Xander’s story. They’d kidnapped their bride and taken her to their world in an alternate dimension. Of course, she knew those were just stories. Fiction. That kind of thing didn’t happen in real life… right? Right! As she rounded a corner at the end of the hallway, she realized why her kidnapper had not bothered to run. Dead end. Trapped. Did she bother even trying to fight off the man slowly prowling closer, dark eyes glittering, muscles bunching and rippling? She was no match for him. His body was obscenely powerful. She wasn’t particularly clever either, not devious enough to trick him into releasing her. Not to mention, she had no idea where she was. No car. No money. How would she get home?
Placating the man and biding time was probably the wisest move. Although the memory of that terror-filled scream made her doubt her decision from the moment it was made. Really, what other choice did she have, though? How she wished she’d taken a self-defense class! Shaking, both from the cold sweat pouring from her skin, and from terror, she watched him warily, trying to read his face, his eyes, his posture. Strange, none of them seemed to be saying the same thing. Talk about sending mixed signals. His expression was stern, like he was ticked off. His posture tight, like he was prepared for battle. But his eyes… she couldn’t precisely interpret what she saw in them, but she felt calmer, reassured, as she looked into them. “There is no escape. Come.” He motioned back in the direction from which she’d run, then, obviously under the assumption she’d follow him, he started back down the corridor. Hey! Come? What was up with that? What did he think she was? A dog? Fetch. Sit. Lie down. If that was what he was thinking, he’d have a surprise coming. She stood in place, arms crossed, hip thrust out, and watched him retreat. A girl who pretty much saw the good in every situation and was rarely ever riled, Maggie didn’t get upset or insulted easily. But the way he’d talked to her just then. So cold and distant. And the attitude he’d shown, how he’d assumed she’d just merrily skip back down the hallway because he’d barked a command at her like she was an animal… She didn’t take that kind of treatment anymore, oh no, she did not. Someone had better start talking. Quickly. Or… or something dramatic and very bad was going to happen. Who was she kidding? The kidnapping, cold-talking jerk hadn’t bothered to check and see if she was following. He’d simply walked away. To somewhere down there. In the dark. Why didn’t he turn on the fricking lights? Cursing the cheapskate who might not think twice about flying to another country to kidnap an innocent woman but was too cheap to turn on a few lights, Maggie grumbled her way down the hall until she reached the open door and her room-slash-prison-cell. He stood inside, looking expectedly at the doorway, as she strolled in. Wary, she checked his eyes. Did she still see a touch of humanity there? Or were they empty and cold? No, that was definitely humanity. Warmth. Kindness? Patience? She heaved a sigh of relief and shuffled past him. “Look, I have no idea what’s going on or what I’m doing here, or even where here is, but I think you owe me --” “We owe you nothing,” he stated flatly. “Uh…” His rude, abrupt response -- so like Jack -- threw her off kilter for a moment. She wasn’t used to people talking to her like she wasn’t worthy of their time anymore. For the most part, thanks to her friendly, easy-going nature, even strangers treated her pretty well. What was with this guy? Please tell me I haven’t been kidnapped by another Jack. “Give me my clothes.” More silence.
She narrowed her eyes, simultaneously sending him a threatening vibe and taking a good, long look at him. His garments fit him perfectly -- something a guy built like that wouldn’t get from clothes bought off the rack. The slacks, shirt and sweater were obviously expensive. Custom tailored? His hands -- strong but also manicured -- were most definitely lacking any calluses, which meant the muscles she had so admired earlier had to come from pumping iron, versus hard, physical work. Her conclusion -- he was rich and used to wielding power. He had an air of authority about him she couldn’t help but respect. Even though his rude and unjust treatment was making her angrier by the second. “You will get clothes if I determine you need them,” he stated. “What? What!” Now, she was getting seriously pissed. “First, that’s just… wrong! Even ax murderers in prison get clothes. Second, I’m freezing. And third, it’s humiliating standing here buck naked with you looking at me like… that…” Her words got stuck behind an enormous boulder that had somehow rammed itself in her throat. Eyes burning, she swallowed several times. No, she was not going to cry! No, no, no! She hated how easily she cried. Crying was weak. But all this brought back terrible memories. His expression softened slightly. Gaze diverted, he huffed a heavy sigh, raked the fingers of both hands through his hair and mumbled something under his breath. A handful of blinks dispersed the tears gathering in her eyes. She hugged herself harder, and dug deep inside, drawing upon the well of strength she’d built up over the past few months. “You will become accustomed to our ways with time.” What exactly did he mean by that? An assumption sort of came with that statement, the conclusion that she’d be around long enough to become “accustomed to their ways.” That simply wasn’t possible. She’d lose everything she’d worked so hard to accomplish. No. Making this place her permanent home was definitely not an option. “I don’t want to stay here.” “You have no choice.” There was no apology in his voice. No regret. And no invitation to argue. He motioned to the hallway. “As I said before, there is no escape, no route back to your world.” Her world? This was getting weirder by the minute. “If this isn’t my ‘world’, what is it? Where am I?” “You are in Alyria, the Realm of the Twelfth Knight Brotherhood.” A blaze of heat shot up her spine. Goose flesh spread across her back and shoulders. She knew that place. But it wasn’t possible for her to travel to Alyria. Alyria wasn’t a real city. It came from her favorite book, Bastien and Xander’s story. While she struggled to make sense of a situation that made absolutely no sense, he reached into his pocket. Stepping closer, he turned his fist over and unfurled his fingers. On his flattened hand lay a stunning choker. About an inch thick, it was fashioned from diagonally criss-crossed wires, white gold, she guessed. And at the center of each cross, was a single diamond. From the bottom center hung a pendant with an enormous red tiger eye. She knew that collar. It too was from the book, Captured by the Knight. Although, it was far more beautiful in real life than it had been in her imagination.
Still struggling to grasp what all of these similarities meant, she stood as still as possible while her captor, who had yet to tell her his name, bent closer, reaching around her neck to fasten the choker. His fingers brushed her nape as he secured it, eliciting a tremor -- despite her confusion. His breath tickled her ear, giving rise to a second shudder. He pressed a kiss to the crook of her shoulder and she gasped. “You belong to us.” He stared into her eyes as he murmured the words, lifting a hand to cup her cheek. “Who are you?” She studied his face, noticing every detail. The mole next to his right eye. The cleft in his chin. The line of his jaw. She knew the answer before he spoke it, even though the man she’d pictured in her head and the one gracing the book’s cover had looked nothing like the one standing before her now. Bastien? Was it possible? Had she somehow been pulled into her favorite book? That absolutely insane possibility did explain one thing -- why she’d reacted the way she had to him, despite the way he’d treated her. The Twelfth Knights’ bodies produced a chemical -- something like a pheromone -- that ignited their mate’s libido and eased her fear. A bride of the Twelfth Knights could no more resist the pheromone’s effect than she could stop adrenaline from raising her heart rate and dilating her pupils. So she wasn’t too-stupid-to-live. Ha! But how exactly could a real person be pulled into a book? Magic? Magic didn’t exist. And even if it was possible, why? Most importantly, if the impossible had happened, was there any way to go home? Any way to reverse the spell that had brought her here? She wasn’t ready to live her fantasy. In her head, it was cool. But… but she’d been quite content with her real life. She liked her job, her boss, her apartment. Sure, her love life could have used a little boost, but whose couldn’t? And no, her life had never been full of action and intrigue, the kind of life she’d once pictured herself having. Didn’t matter. She was happy because she was free. Fantasy, or more specifically the escape she sought through her books, was just a diversion from the day-to-day. She didn’t need more than that. “I am your Master,” he said, interrupting the storm of thoughts raging in her head. “I am Bastien Lennox.” He then went about proving beyond any reasonable doubt that Bastien Lennox, the hero from her favorite romance novel, was as real as any man she’d ever met. And that, despite all scientific arguments against -- including that conservation of matter law she’d learned in high school chemistry class -- it was entirely possible for a two hundred and fifty-ish pound man to physically change into a six hundred fifty-ish pound beast. *** “What are you doing here?” Arion Calder asked Xander Kendrick, his superior, as he strode into the room. “You have a newly acquired bride, you lucky bastard, and yet you’re here with us?” “I heard the rumors. Is it true?” Ignoring Arion’s jibe, Xander dropped into a chair and switched on one of the monitors, anxious to read the report. His job as the head of security for Alyria, and most importantly, protector of its secrets, was one he took seriously. He had no choice. Should their existence be revealed to the humans, the life they had known for centuries would cease.
“It’s no more serious than normal.” Arion shrugged nonchalantly as he switched channels on his monitor, switching from a view of a human city roadway to that of an Alyrian building. “Something was published in one of their newspapers. But the paper in question isn’t known for publishing verifiable fact.” “Doesn’t matter. That’s the third article in six months. Never before have we seen that kind of exposure in the human world.” His mind on the threat to their safety, his fingers typed his security password, giving him access to even their most highly protected files. “Who is the author? Were all three articles written by the same person, was it Cheryl something? Has anyone discovered her source?” “We have been following the situation closely, but have yet to discover where she’s getting her information.” “How many details has she revealed?” He punched up the last article on file and started skimming. This was bad. Very bad. She cited the names of several Twelfth Knights and had a rough description of the portal, as well as a list of the last three brides to have been claimed by the Brotherhood. How had she learned so much? Their computer systems, while far more advanced than the humans’, could not access all systems and data on the humans’ Internet. The humans’ antiquated programming created incompatibility issues Xander had not bothered to address before because, until now, he’d been able to do his job with the information he could access. Someone had found a way, however, to take advantage of this vulnerability. He guessed it was someone on this side of the portal. It could very well be someone in his department. His gaze swept the room. On this shift, there was Arion, a friend since they’d been cubs, and two others, Cy Parnell and Galen Radcliff. Due to the highly sensitive nature of their work, the security staff was intentionally kept small, making it less likely for information to fall into the wrong hands. He’d personally conducted the interviews and background checks on all three men who worked this shift. He hadn’t found a single blemish on any of their records. Not even going back several generations. Second shift, however, had been hired by his predecessor. He had no concrete reason to suspect the leak was one of them, but since he was confident in his ability to trust the men he’d hired, it made the most sense. What didn’t make sense was the motivation. Who would want to risk the end of the Brotherhood and why? The human world was nothing compared to theirs. It wasn’t like whoever was responsible would wish to endure that kind of barbaric existence. The diseases that ran rampant among the humans were enough to make the average Twelfth Knight shudder with horror. On top of the many diseases, it was filthy, polluted beyond hope. The earth. The water. The air. By bringing their brides to Alyria, they were showing great mercy. In the human world, at best a woman might hope to live to see one hundred winter solstices. In Alyria, they lived ten times as long. And aged ten times slower. There had yet to be a bride who didn’t eventually come to appreciate the kindness their clean and disease-free world showed to them, and the length of time their beauty remained.
There was a price to pay to protect their world. But pay it, they would. Gladly. The results made it worthwhile. His mind still puzzling over the motivation anyone would have for putting the future of the Brotherhood, and thus Alyria, in peril, Xander set to work at the tedious task of writing the code that would sometime soon -- or so he hoped -- enable him free access to the human Internet. He feared there wasn’t enough time to complete the task before the humans would discover the truth about the Twelfth Knights, cease publishing their stories, thereby cutting them off from their world forever. Or, alternately, rush into their world when the portal opened next, bringing with them disease, pollution and crime. In the meantime, he had to trust that Bastien would oversee the initial training of their new bride. Such a pleasant task, as he understood it. A shame he couldn’t be there too.
Chapter 3 Holy shit! That’s a real fucking tiger. A huge tiger. With enormous -- and very sharp -- teeth. Long claws… and Bastien’s wicked-cool eyes? A scream wedged in her throat, Maggie staggered backward. Reading about men who turned into animals, or even watching Van Helsing and Harry Potter movies a bazillion times, hadn’t prepared her for the shock of witnessing an actual, real, in-the-flesh man morph into a beast. Oh. My. God. She blinked. Then blinked again. Was she hallucinating? Or could it be some kind of trick? The tiger’s lip pulled into a feline snarl. A low warning rumble froze her in place. No, that couldn’t possibly be an illusion. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Terror’s icy fingers crept up her spine, making her quake. The fierce predator prowled closer, closer, his nose in the air. She heard him inhaling, sniffing the air like a beast that had caught a whiff of some succulent treat. His eyes focused on her. Eek. She was the treat! If only she had a raw steak right now. Or a garbage bag full of catnip. She’d give a few nonessential body parts to have either right now. She cursed the fact that she’d never owned a pet. What was the rule with cats? Look them in the eye? Or avoid it? Think, girl, think! Those teeth were mighty sharp. A bite would hurt something fierce. She was a wimp when it came to pain, the reason why she’d never gotten her ears pierced. Those fangs made needles look like tiny splinters. Her knees rubbery, her feet heavy, she slowly backed up a few more steps. Of course, being a hunter by nature, the animal wasted no time closing the distance between them again. He stood so close, his breath feathered over her abdomen. She looked longingly across the room.
The door was clear over there. If she made a run for it, she’d never make it before Bastien the tiger gobbled her up. He’d probably have her gone in a couple bites. Why didn’t he change back to a man? Was he waiting for her to do something? Say something? What had happened in the book? She was too terrified to remember. Bastien stretched a front paw forward, softly brushing it against her thigh. Out of sheer instinct, she jerked backward, slamming her spine into the wall. Blasé about her reaction, the powerful feline withdrew his paw, flopped onto the floor at her feet and proceeded to give himself a tongue bath. A low purr rumbled through the room’s heavy air as he worked. His soft fur brushed against her knee when he curled his body to give his hind end some attention. The tip of his long tail curled and uncurled. Unable to do anything but stand pinned to the wall and shake, she watched and waited. Oh so slowly, over the course of minutes or hours -- she had no concept of time -her terror faded. Evidently, slightly curvy homo sapiens were not on Bastien the tiger’s menu. Instead of ripping her apart with those long claws and teeth, he sat at her feet, the model of feline grace and beauty, and tended to more mundane things, like grooming his magnificent coat and cleaning his ears. She even managed to find the guts to reach down and touch the tip of an ear. Soft. He stopped licking his leg and lifted his gaze to hers. And in a blink, he was a man again. A naked man, who looked hungrier than the beast, his eyes devouring her from chest to thigh and back up again. Resuming her ramrod posture, she pressed her back into the wall and whispered, “Bastien?” *** Bastien had heard the other knights talk, had known to expect his bride to be frightened and resistant. Some brides were more fearful and subdued by nature, others more independent and headstrong, fighting their Masters like wild beasts. His bride seemed to possess a little of both -- the submission he expected and the fire he desired. But what he hadn’t expected or been prepared to deal with was the overwhelming hunger he felt for her. Her scent, sweet and musky, ignited a burning ache inside his chest the instant he had changed into his tiger form. The pain increased a hundredfold when he’d shifted back. Take her now. That’s what his every muscle and nerve insisted. He would not, could not. How cruel was the law, to put him in this position. In the room with the woman who made his blood boil -- the only one who had fired his passions so intensely -- and yet deny him the relief his body demanded. Standing now, looking down at her beautiful, heart-shaped face, he cursed the law and Xander, who had insisted he make the initial steps toward the claiming without him. “Y-you’re real?” She staggered toward the cot, staring up at his face. Her teeth were chattering, yet a strength shone in her eyes. “Wow.” He had to admit, his regard for his new bride was growing quickly. She not only had accepted the truth about her Master and his kind -- something that took some brides several days to accomplish -- but seemed to be somewhat fascinated by it. While he had caught the tangy scent of her fear when he’d taken his feline form, she hadn’t screamed in terror and run from him. Perhaps he wouldn’t be forced to endure the pain of his hunger for too long.
He nodded, unable to keep from smiling. “Most definitely real.” “I can hardly believe it.” Full lips parted slightly, she shook her head. “All of it, Alyria, you… the tiger. This is the book I read? Over and over? Will the whole story come true, exactly as I read it?” “I can’t say, since I do not know yet how the story progresses. It’s complicated, how the magic works.” “Oh.” Her arms still semi-shielding certain parts of her anatomy from his feasting eyes, she puzzled over what he’d said. She started pacing, her gaze on the floor. “How confusing. Hmmm… from what I remember, the heroine was kidnapped and woke up in a dark place…” She lifted her eyes in a sweeping glance that curved around the room in a wide arc. “Yes. I don’t know why I hadn’t recognized it right away.” Her soft blue-grey gaze found his face again. “And you. I should’ve recognized you immediately too.” A warm pink tinted her cheeks. Her gaze dropped like a lead weight and an adorable crease crinkled between her eyebrows. At the vulnerability he read in her body language, the heat in his blood inched up a few hundred degrees, from simmer to boiling. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He forced his hands behind his back and clasped them together. Sweet like honey and more intoxicating than the finest wine. That’s how she would taste. And her cries of pleasure would be more melodic and moving than the most stirring music he had ever heard. Her hair, skin, would be more pleasing, softer and more luxurious than the rarest silks. A rare treasure, she was. They had indeed been blessed by the goddess in a bride. “So, uh,” she stammered, still staring at the floor, “will there be a claiming?” “Most definitely,” he answered, not able to disguise the raw, unbridled hunger in his voice. She shuddered. “And there are…” an audible gulp cut her sentence in half, “… two Masters? Xander is my second?” “Yes.” Her lips drew into a tight line, and she slowly raised her chin. “Well, then where is he? He should have been here with you now, for my…” another gulp, “… erm… training.” “He had another, more pressing matter to attend to.” “Then he’s really the head of the security agency or whatever it’s called?” “Yes.” “And you’re probably a little uncomfortable right now? ’Cause in the book, the bride creates some kind of chemical reaction in her Masters… just like they do in her…” Her gaze slowly dropped to his groin. Her eyes widened and her lips rounded into an O of surprise. “I am most definitely uncomfortable. Which is why we will now begin your training.” He closed the distance between them in two lengthy strides, caught her wrists in his fists and swept her arms up until her hands were clasped together over her head. At the contact of his hands to her skin, the fever wracking his body cranked up another notch. The weight in his testicles increased to nearly blinding intensity. Yet he could not back away from her and break the connection. Instead, surrendering to the call
of the beast within him, he forced her back until she was flattened between the wall and his body. He swallowed a roar of frustration, battled the instinct to take his mate, and squeezed his eyes shut. Her scent. He couldn’t get enough. Closer. He kicked her feet apart and wedged his legs between hers, making sure there was no break in the contact between his burning body and her soft and feminine perfection, not from the floor to the tops of their heads. A soft whimper slipped between her lips, the sound nearly driving him mad. How could he wait when his body was betraying him? He ground his pelvis against her, creating a delicious friction between her softly curving abdomen and his rigid cock. It would be so much better for them both if he was clothed. Easier to resist the temptation of those honey-scented lips. He stilled, afraid to move, knowing he would never be able to resist the compulsion blasting through his body in relentless waves if he didn’t. As soon as he had gathered up some self-control, he tipped his head to nuzzle her neck. The lingering aroma of lilac wafted to his nose, released when he combed his fingers through her hair. He tasted her skin, salty-sweet. Delicious. More. He nibbled his way up to her ear, encouraged by her little gasps and moans. “How many times did you read our story?” he asked, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “Did you read it only once? Or many times?” She tested his grip on her wrists, slightly twisting them. “M-more than I can count right now.” “That pleases me.” He tightened his hold and stopped devouring her neck long enough to level a warning glare. “However, I warn you, you must not move -- not even turn your head -- without permission. This is for both our safety.” “Yes, M-Master.” Her instant acquiescence earned her a single stroke between her legs. She accepted her reward with a groan and shudder. “Yes, your submission will be rewarded.” He mapped the line of her collarbone with an index finger. “We will soon see what else you learned in your reading.” “I didn’t expect… ahhhh…” Her breasts were absolutely perfect. Full. Heavy. Natural. Tipped with a pair of the most luscious nipples he’d ever seen. Small nipples, the perfect shade of soft pink. He had to taste them. It wasn’t a question of wanting. It was a question of perishing if he didn’t. He flicked his tongue over one pink tip then blew a soft gust to harden it to a tight point. His heart hammered against his breastbone. The air blasted from his lungs in a whoosh. Eyes closed, she rocked her hips back then forward, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest. He instantly withdrew from her, grappling with the nearly overpowering lust pounding, hot and steady, to his groin. Control. This first time with a bride was both an exercise in discovery and a test of control. Both for Master and mate. His self-control was definitely failing.
He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing. Once he’d recovered his ability to speak, he lifted his eyelids. She was still standing in place, but she’d lowered her hands and was staring at him quizzically. Her chest rose and fell quickly, making those glorious orbs bounce slightly with each inhalation. He stared, unable to stop himself. His throat went dry. Finally, he shook away the lust. He would get through this first session without fucking her. If it meant he’d have to leave before they were finished, to seek out relief in another way, so be it. Now that he thought about it, he had been cautioned by another knight to take care of that issue before he went to his new bride. Wise words he had not heeded. More the fool, he. “Why? Why’d you stop?” she whispered. Once again, her arms were wrapped protectively around her body, shielding her breasts from his view. “I told you, you must not move. And yet you refuse to listen.” He motioned at her with a nod. “Your arms. Where do they belong?” “Well, you --” Her lips thinned as she snapped them shut. A spark of anger flared in her eyes. She lifted her chin. He narrowed his gaze and turned his back to her, an appropriate punishment for her willfulness. If he had to leave her here for the night, so be it. He wasn’t a patient man, but he sensed she was very close to accepting her position as his mate and submissive. No woman who was experiencing her first relationship as a submissive was going to slip into the role without facing an occasional challenge, nor without testing her new Master’s position from time-to-time. Her world had taught her to be strong and independent. It had been a matter of her survival. To unlearn something so ingrained -- a frame of mind she didn’t even think about it, that shaped her every reaction -- would take time. Who would’ve thought the training of his bride would be so damn painful? For them both? *** Alone. Again. But now Maggie was horny, on top of confused and frustrated and scared. Sure, Bastien had cleared up a few things. She now knew where she was and who he was. And she had a rough idea of what she could expect from him -- some very wicked pleasure delivered by a gentle yet powerful man. Yet, there was still a horde of questions left to be answered. Like why she’d been sucked into a book. And how would she go home? And what would the reality of Xander be like? Would he be as gorgeous, dominant and heroic as she’d imagined? She fingered the choker, mapping the location of each sparkling gem. Yesterday, she’d been a self-sufficient girl with a job and an apartment and a life that was predictable and ordinary but also very nice. And now… predictable and ordinary would hardly describe this new life. A flare of heat blazed up her chest, followed by a pang of homesickness. That so-called training session had made her so aroused, she could hardly keep herself upright. The vulnerability of her position coupled with the knowledge of his
expectations had made it all the more erotic, thrilling. That same powerlessness also made his withdrawal that much more painful. She couldn’t help moving her arms, or questioning his reasons for stopping. It wasn’t like she’d done this kind of thing before. Didn’t help that she’d never been so swept away by passion, so consumed by the need for a man’s touch. She wanted him so bad, her teeth ached. Why had he stopped? She still didn’t understand his reason. Although she did know why he’d left the room. She was being punished for giving him the mean-eyes. Imagine that. She hadn’t been so much as reprimanded since Jack had died. Until today. But who could blame her for getting ticked off? Darn it, she’d been frustrated. It was easy to fall into old habits. Especially since this whole submission-slash-domination thing was so new to her. What did he expect from someone with a past like hers? Perfection from the very beginning? That was plain stupid. Would he stay away long? It annoyed her, how smartly it stung when he’d left. She felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Like it or not, there was a powerful connection between them, one that defied logic in its intensity. They’d met a few hours ago, exchanged even fewer words, and swapped a little spit, and she was practically in a clinical depression. She padded barefooted to the door and pulled it open, peering down the dark hallway. She heard no screams now. In fact, she heard no sounds whatsoever. But she did note that there were other doors dotting both sides of the hall. Were there other women in those rooms, like in the book? Oh wait, maybe there hadn’t been other women? Strange. She couldn’t remember anymore. The details of the book seemed to be fading from her memory, like a dream. Would she eventually forget everything? Should she write it all down, just in case? She glanced around the sparse room. Of course, there was no paper and pencil handy. Oh well. She’d just have to take her chances and trust her memory. Now what? Should she pay a visit to her neighbors, if there were any to be found? After all, Bastien had not demanded she stay in her prison cell. He hadn’t locked the door. Left to her own devices, he had to expect she’d get out and wander a bit. As the old saying went, misery loves company. She had to assume that any woman in her position would also be naked and confused and scared, just like she was. As long as the other ladies weren’t six feet tall with a body fat content in the low teens, she supposed she could handle being naked. Sure beat sitting in this crap-hole, feeling alone and rejected and miserable. She headed right, thinking the scream she’d heard earlier might have come from that direction. As she made her way down to the first door, a whisper from behind caught her attention. “This way.” It was a male’s voice. Didn’t sound like Bastien, but it might be Xander. If it was, why was he hiding? Not sure what to expect, she wheeled around to face whoever was lurking in the shadows behind her.
Chapter 4 His prey was on the move again, so close Xander could taste the sharp tang of its terror in the air. A scuffle in the dirt drew his attention. There. Behind the tree. In feline form, he pricked his ears and crouched lower, relying on the tall grasses for camouflage. Ahh, the thrill of the chase. It was his only relief from the frustration of his work. For a short time he could lose himself in the feral side of his nature, the predator. The patter of paws on the ground signaled his quarry approached. His muscles coiled, preparing for the strike. Soon, he would kill. Soon, he would eat, satisfying his need for sustenance. And then he would find his bride and partake in an entirely different kind of chase. It hadn’t been fair to any of them, his suggestion that Bastien complete the training without him. He had denied himself, Bastien, and their bride long enough. *** At first, Maggie was petrified of the masked man. If the guy wasn’t positively evil, or trying to hide his identity for some other nefarious reason, why cover his face? But when he uttered the words, “I want to help you go home,” she was reluctantly prepared to put aside her knee-jerk reaction. “My identity cannot be revealed. This is the reason for the mask,” he explained as soon as they were safely inside one of the rooms neighboring her own. He motioned toward the cot, indicating she should sit. Too nervous to even think about sitting still, she chose to remain standing. “The portal between our world and yours is protected by a magical barrier that only a bride and her Masters can disable,” her masked companion stated. “And then only if she has summoned her Masters of her own free will.” “Which means I ‘summoned’ Xander and Bastien somehow? I wanted them to come to me?” She instantly recalled the paper cut and saying something about them finding her. Of course, when she’d mumbled those words, she’d assumed she was talking to fictional characters, not real people. Not in a bazillion years had she expected they’d come to life and haul her away to some alternate world on the other side of a magical portal. “I remember now.” “Excellent. This is a good sign. The longer you remain in Alyria, the quicker the memory of your world and everything in it will fade. Do you still recall the details of your Masters’ story? The book you read?” She searched her mind, reaching for the descriptions and plot twists she’d enjoyed over and over, the fictional characters she’d met and fallen in love with. Some of the details had indeed grown hazy. “I remember some things, only a few. I’m forgetting a lot. Quickly.” He nodded. “You have very little time left. Once all your memories are gone, there is no hope of escape. We’ll have to work quickly.” His dark eyed gaze pierced hers. “You do want to escape, don’t you?”
She was tempted to blurt a quick answer but resisted. Yes, she missed her life. With the memory of the Xander and Bastien’s story fading fast, she was now facing a lot of unknowns. What would happen to her if she stayed with them? What kind of danger would she be forced to face? Yet, another part of her wanted to take a chance, to explore a side of herself she hadn’t fully accepted yet. A side that not only enjoyed the dark danger her Masters promised her, but craved it. If she went home, would she remember her visit to Xander and Bastien’s world? Would she regret going back? Would the predictable life she’d been so content to live before suddenly seem empty and dull? “I’m not sure. I mean… yes, I miss my home and my job. My boss, and friends in the book club. Can I think about it for a while?” “You don’t have much time. You will lose your memories fairly quickly. And what remains will vanish completely once your Masters complete the claiming.” “Which means?” “You have no more than twenty hours to decide.” Such a short time to make such an important decision. “How will I find you?” “I will come to you. There is much to do, if you wish to return to your world. Do not deliberate too long.” He turned to the door and pulled it open. “You should go now. Your Masters will be searching for you.” Her mind swimming, she followed the masked man to the room’s exit. How would she make a choice? If only she could recall the plot of the story. Beyond the first couple of chapters, it was pretty much lost to her now. What hazards had Xander and Bastien faced? What risks had their bride met? Oh, ack! It was gone. She hesitated before passing through the doorway. “Why are you helping me?” Silence. “If there is time later, I may tell you.” He disappeared into the heavy shadows exactly one blink before she heard Bastien murmur her name behind her. The brush of his warm breath across one shoulder elicited a shudder. Had he heard anything? Seen anything? Did he know she was considering escape? If so, would he lock her in her room to make it impossible? Her back and shoulders tight, her eyelids squeezed shut, she slowly turned to face him. She’d know the moment their eyes met, no doubt. If she found anger in their depths, then he knew. Mentally bracing herself, she lifted her eyelids. Relief. She saw no rage. Quite the opposite, what she saw made her hot and cold at the same time -- raw, desperate desire. She could lose herself in his desire. It would be so easy. A part of her wanted exactly that. Craved it with frightening, overwhelming force. She could practically feel her former life and world slipping through her fingers, like sand. Not ready to let it go, she staggered backward. Distance would allow her to cling to what little memories she had left. Instinct told her as much. “It is time for you to meet your second Master.” Xander.
A flare of anticipation shot up her spine. She no longer remembered how he’d been described in the book, whether he was tall or short, thick or thin, blond-haired or dark. Nor could she remember what animal form he took when he hunted. She only remembered the air of feral danger and power he’d given off. And she remembered how sexy she’d found that mysterious edge. Darkly erotic. Within moments, she would meet the second of her fantasy-men-come-to-life. Her heartbeat instantly sped up. Hot blood pounded through her chest. Her knees grew wobbly and soft. “This way.” Bastien led her through a labyrinth of identical halls, lit periodically by burning torches affixed to the walls. Otherwise, the maze of twisty-turny passageways was inky black, forcing Maggie to rely on Bastien’s feline night vision to guide her. She clung to his hand, treading carefully, her palms sweaty, dampness gathering on her brow. Finally, they emerged from the blackness, stepping into an enormous room with a glass-domed ceiling. Millions of stars twinkled in the moonless sky above. The floors were also black, the stone tile cold, slick and unyielding under her unshod feet. The walls were a crisp white, completely devoid of any windows, artwork or signs. It reminded her somewhat of an airport terminal, though lacking the gift and coffee shops, the crush of people, and the constant hum of voices. The room was empty and silent, save the clop, clop of Bastien’s booted footfalls. Around a corner, and then they were traveling through a series of glass-enclosed tunnels, the dark outside closing in on them from both sides and above. She wondered if the air outside was breathable or toxic. If she’d ever smell the scent of freshly-mown grass or spring flowers. At the end of the bazillionth tunnel, Bastien halted. “It may take a while for your body to adjust to the differences between our outside environment and yours. Our atmosphere contains a different concentration of gasses. You may feel lightheaded, or dizzy. I’ll help you.” He pushed open the door, and she braced herself for the gust of frigid air she’d expected would slap her in the face. Instead, warm, fragrant air caressed her skin and the heady scent of flowers, trees and rich soil filled her nostrils. A wave of exhilaration charged through her system, making her feel young and alive and oh so wonderful. But in the next instant, as she tipped her head to look up at the cloudless star-speckled sky, a funny twinge in her head left her reeling, like she’d just stepped onto an out-of-control carnival ride. Staggering from the tilting of the ground beneath her, she reached for Bastien’s arm to steady herself. Regrettably, his strong and steady presence beside her wasn’t enough to keep her on her feet. After misjudging the location of the dewy grass beneath her foot, she twisted her ankle and nearly tumbled to the ground. Bastien’s strong hands caught her around her waist and in the next instant, she was cradled in his arms and bouncing against his bulk. Warm and snuggly. Ahhhh. This was the only way to travel. He carried her over a rolling hill toward a large stone building nestled between towering trees. Warm yellow light in the windows beckoned them, welcoming them into what turned out to be a cozy and warm interior. Was this her new home? This beautiful place, with the gleaming tiled floors, polished wood trim and sparkling candelabras hanging from snow-white ceilings? It looked like a picture out of House and Gardens. Stunning.
Made her already spinning head whirl a little faster. Bastien gently set her on her feet, and with his help, she managed to wobble her way up the sweeping staircase to the second floor. She saw him then. Standing at a set of white doors. Her breath caught in her throat. “Xander,” she murmured with awe. She had seen pictures of many a devastatingly handsome man. Models and actors with perfectly formed features and bodies that promised erotic pleasures beyond any woman’s darkest fantasies. He put every one of them to shame. Bastien was absolutely gorgeous, much better looking than any man she’d met in real life. But Xander, dear God, there were no words to describe him. Because he was undressed, with the exception of a pair of loose fitting pants, she was privy to an eyeful of male perfection. His body was huge, powerfully built. Deeply tanned, hairless skin stretched over rippling muscles. A cascade of tawny waves tumbled from his head over broad shoulders. His sharp, dark-eyed gaze swept up her form, from foot to scalp then settled at chest level. Feral, dark and dangerous. Those were the words that leapt to her mind as she indulged in a long, lazy once-over. He swept his tongue across his bottom lip and her knees threatened to give out. Bastien released her hand. Woozy and trembling, she dropped to her knees at Xander’s bare feet and lowered her gaze. She did so not because she was trying to play the role of submissive, but out of necessity. Shaking and breathless, she needed to catch her breath and steady herself. For whatever reason, she couldn’t seem to do either when she was standing up, watching him gobble her up with his eyes. She felt him reach for her even before he touched her. It was as if a little charge of electricity leapt between his fingertips and her arm. That tiny zap morphed into a huge buzz the instant he made contact. Staggering to her feet at his coaxing, she tried to remember why these men affected her so powerfully. She had known earlier, but now… it was a mystery. Never had she reacted to a man the way she had to Bastien and Xander. Whether it was simply a come-hither glance or an innocent touch, she was rendered instantly breathless, her pussy slick and hot. Was it magic of some kind? She couldn’t remember what the heroine in the book had experienced. Now flanked on both sides by the most gorgeous men this side of paradise, she walked into the enormous master bedroom. Decadent and luxurious. Those two words pretty much summed up her thoughts on the room. The carpet beneath her feet felt like animal fur. It was so soft and thick. The bed was easily the size of two California kings positioned side-by-side. Posts towered from each corner, supporting a framework of wood swathed in velvets and silks. The bed itself was piled with pure white animal furs and pillows. Beyond the bed, a sex swing was suspended from the ceiling. Next to that stood a few other pieces of bondage furniture. She recognized them from somewhere. Unexpectedly, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in several hours. Embarrassed, she wrapped an arm around her stomach, hoping it would muffle any future growls, and looked askance at Bastien. Bastien and Xander swapped glances and then Bastien left the room.
Alone. With Xander. A half-naked Xander, at that. She was both thrilled and petrified. Although she sensed he didn’t want to hurt her, she couldn’t help feeling overpowered and vulnerable. What would he expect from her? Would she fail? Would he punish her? Would he whip her? Yikes! She was so not into pain! She wasn’t too proud to admit she was a wimp. He motioned to the bed and she sat, hands in her lap, eyes raised to his face. His feet set shoulder width apart, hands behind his back, he looked down at her with those mesmerizing eyes. She couldn’t remember what kind of animal form Xander took in the book, but she did recall that he, like Bastien, shifted forms. In his human form, he reminded her of a lion. Majestic. Powerful. With the commanding presence of a king. Yes, that was it. A lion. Or had it been a tiger, like Bastien? “You are afraid, little one?” His voice was a low-pitched rumble, as sensual as the rest of him. “A little,” she confessed, figuring there was no sense in lying. “Bastien tells me your first training went well. Do you disagree?” Did she? “No, not really. Although I’m new to this whole submission thing. I’m not really sure what’s expected. Plus, sometimes I get a little… annoyed -- I guess that would be the word -- when things are put to me as commands, rather than requests.” “You will grow accustomed to our ways,” he said flatly, his expression and voice lacking emotion. “We cannot expect perfection at this point, as long as you treat us with due respect.” A miserable, awkward silence followed, giving her ample opportunity to think and wonder and worry. Was he just going to stand there forever and stare at her? God, she hoped not. He was so gorgeous, absolutely perfect, and she was so imperfect. How could he stand looking at her like that? She wanted to hide herself from him. More than she wanted to eat. Or breathe. But every time she started to lift her arms to shield herself, he gave her a warning scowl. She satisfied her urge by clamping her knees tightly together and tucking her arms against her sides as snugly as possible. “Can I ask a question?” she hedged. “You may.” “How long must I stay here with you?” “As long as you live,” was his matter-of-fact answer. “You did summon us. If you hadn’t, the portal wouldn’t have opened.” “Sssssure…” She’d summoned them? How was that again? She scrabbled for the fading memories of those final moments she’d spent at home, before she’d fallen asleep. “But for some reason, I’m thinking I didn’t expect to be stolen away from my home, my job, my life. Taken hostage.” His body stiffened. “You are not a prisoner,” he snapped. “You are our bride, a much revered position.” Oops. Had she bruised his ego? Insulted his hospitality? Well, sheesh! What did he expect? He was treating her like a prisoner. He hadn’t even given her clothes to wear. He prowled closer. His gaze went on a visual tour of her body again, this time winding down to her toes before moving back up to her face. “Part your legs.”
A gasp slipped past her lips, even as a flood of warmth rushed to the juncture of her thighs. Part her legs? And show this stranger her most delicate parts? She had some pride. She wasn’t ready to do that, yet. Almost, but not quite. Unfortunately, judging by his angry glare, her Master didn’t seem to understand her sense of pride. Exactly how did he intend to force her to comply? Home. She was ready to go home now.
Chapter 5 When Maggie didn’t move immediately to comply with Xander’s command, his mouth pulled into a tight line. “Must I repeat myself?” he growled. Tears of confusion burned her eyes while bursts of erotic heat pulsed through her body. She wanted this man, even though he was a stranger -- a big, sexy, powerful and intimidating stranger. She wanted him to touch her with those long tapered fingers. To taste her with those perfectly-formed lips. To explore every inch of her body with that hard-eyed gaze. She didn’t understand why she ached for those things, only knew the agony was there, throbbing and sharp and desperate. Slowly, her eyes fixed on his, she consciously loosened the clenched muscles of her thighs and pulled her legs apart. He didn’t break the connection between their gazes to look down. A surprise. What male could resist the sight of a wet pussy? Especially when they’d specifically asked the owner of said pussy to open her legs for him? His nostrils flared slightly as he audibly inhaled. His eyelids lowered, partially shading his eyes. “Your scent…” His parted lips glistened as he swept his tongue across them. “Honey.” He stepped closer and sniffed again. The air crackled between them, charged with what had to be a million volts of electricity. So freaking intense, it made lightning look like miniscule zaps of static. He extended an arm, his hand reaching for her shoulder. He’d touch her in three, two, one second… Ohhhhh. Home still sounded good. But… later. Waiting a little while wouldn’t hurt. Warmth gathered between her legs, creating a strange sensation where cool air caressed swollen, heated flesh. His flattened palm grazed over the swell of her shoulder, following the line of her right arm to the bed. His fingers twined between hers, palm pressed to the back of her hand. Moving closer yet, he did the same thing with his other hand. If she’d ever felt small and vulnerable before, it was nothing compared to now. Even bent at the waist, Xander towered over her. His chest was so wide and thickly muscled she couldn’t help staring. Real men were built like that? Like a god? Who knew? Pictures and movies just didn’t do guys like Xander justice. In real life, they were so much… larger. And impressive. Yes, most definitely impressive.
Her mouth went dry. All the fluid in her body was gathering in one place, one hot and throbbing place. So near. And yet she ached for him to come closer. What would he do next? Would he kiss her (God, she hoped so!)? Or wedge his thighs between her knees, slowly force her onto her back and press that scrumptious body against hers (she wouldn’t complain a bit!)? Or… Oh, Mama! He was going to kiss her. His head tipped, eyelids at half-mast, he drew nearer until his breath warmed her lips. She dug her fingertips into the bedding and tensed her body, expecting his kiss to launch her to the moon. His lips were soft but far from feminine. Moist but not disgustingly so. And they were magic. The kiss started out excruciatingly soft. His mouth swept over hers, a fraction of a second of contact. A fraction of a second of pure agony. Then he did it again. And again. Soft, sweet bliss. His breathing sped up. Hers did too. The sound of their combined gasps echoed in her ears, stirring up a barrage of impulses she wasn’t ready to acknowledge yet. She concentrated on the kiss, which was slowly growing more intimate. Finally, he claimed her mouth fully. One of his hands pressed possessively at the back of her head. His tongue swept into her mouth, bold and domineering. It stroked and took and conquered. The impulses blazing through her mind grew more urgent until she was clawing at the blankets, stomach bunched into a tight ball, pussy burning to be filled. When he broke the kiss, her head was spinning. Once the whirling stopped, she realized Bastien had returned with a tray of food. She’d forgotten how starving she’d been. A ghost of a smile on his face, Xander helped her to her feet, steadying her as she staggered to the table in one corner of the room. She sat and took in the sight of a plate full of steaming food. Thankfully, they left her alone for a bit. The private time allowed her to gather up her scattered wits. Not to mention, an audience watching her eat had always made her self-conscious. Still, even as hungry as she’d been, she found she couldn’t eat nearly as much as she thought. Physical hunger sated at last, she was now ready for whatever Bastien and Xander, her most delightful Masters, were ready to dish out, oh yes she was. Her formerly shaky knees were now firmed up. Her once irregular pulse was back to a steady beat. And her previously hazy, muddled head was once again crystal clear. She pushed up from the table and smiled a thank you to them both. She wasn’t sold on the idea of becoming a permanent resident of whatever this place was called -Alyria, was it? But she was kind of intrigued by the whole idea of being trained as a submissive. These guys weren’t normal run-of-the-mill kind of men. They were far sexier, a lot more mysterious and tons more intriguing than any man she’d ever hoped to meet in real life. Why not allow herself a little taste of the pleasures their dark, hungry gazes and powerful bodies promised? After all, she’d spent the last umpteen years fantasizing about some of this stuff, even before she’d married Jack. He’d been disgusted the one time she’d confessed her darkest fantasies, claiming no normal man would want to do those
things with her. If what he said was true, this might be her only chance to actually experience it for real. Really uncomfortable, unsure of herself, she clenched her hands behind her back and stood before her Masters. Was there some sort of code word she needed to use? Or pose she should take? The reading she had done on the subject had been so limited, she had more questions than answers. Bastien seemed to read her body language. He motioned to the floor then stepped up to gently guide her into position on her knees. Her upper legs were straight, keeping her bottom up off her ankles. Her arms remained pressed to her sides, her hands clasped together behind her butt. Her back arched, which made her breasts jut out. “This is the proper posture you should take when greeting your Masters for a session.” Looking pleased, he stepped back. “A bride is not a slave. There is a difference.” There was? Xander, whose eyes were feasting upon her breasts, stepped closer, tracing the line of her jaw with an index finger. “A slave is the property of her Master. She has no rights, no voice, no will of her own. In contrast, a bride submits freely to her Masters. She is permitted to voice her opinions, speak her mind and make her needs known. She finds pleasure in the surrender of control, but only in sex. This is what we expect of you, our bride.” “I understand.” She was relieved they weren’t asking her to kneel, beg for food or ask for permission to speak every word. That was so not her. Yet, surrendering in sex was most definitely appealing to her. Bastien circled around her back. “During our sessions, you will do as we say, or you will be punished.” He patted her fanny, a gentle indicator that she’d let it drop a couple inches. She straightened up. “Punishment will always take the form of withdrawal. We will leave you, as I did earlier, and the session will be over. You will not receive release.” An apt form of punishment, and one that could prove extremely frustrating, she imagined. Xander worked himself out of his pants, a sight that made her tongue swell in her mouth and drool gather in a huge puddle beneath it. “As our bride, you will receive our devotion. We will provide for your every need -- food, shelter, protection and affection. You have no reason to fear us.” Unclothed, his cock thick and hard, he stood within arm’s reach. “Touch your nipples. I want to see them hard.” While she complied with Xander’s command, Bastien -- still behind her -- ran teasing, tickling touches down her spine, over her buttocks and across the soles of her feet. Between the erotic tension buzzing through her body and the goose bumps pricking her skin, she found herself trembling within seconds. Waves of icy cold broke between flushes of heat, like the quivery heat of a fever. Hungry to add another layer of sensation, she pinched her nipples hard then rolled them between her fingers. His gaze fixed on her breasts, Xander fisted his cock and pumped, once, twice, three times. She couldn’t help staring. His body was so magnificent, so perfectly proportioned. Arms, shoulders, waist. Hips, legs, cock.
The skin of her back warmed as Bastien moved closer, the muscles running up her back clenching with anticipation. His touches became more intimate. He explored the cleft of her buttocks then wrapped his arms around her sides and whispered in her ear, “Remain completely still.” He cupped her breasts, supporting their weight while she gulped mouthfuls of thin, oxygen-depleted air. Bastien teased and tormented her breasts while Xander teased and tormented the rest of her. He neared enough for her to get an up close and personal look at that glorious cock of his, yet shot her a warning glare when she started lifting her hands to touch him. “Don’t move,” Bastien warned again, his breath hot in her ear, the silky heat of his skin brushing against her fanny. “Until the claiming, there are limits to what intimacies we can share.” Now she understood Xander’s tightly drawn expression. She too was desperate for release, and they’d only begun what her Masters had called a “session.” If none of them were permitted an orgasm, how long would they be able to endure the torture? Didn’t it make sense to stop now, before they were all ready to trade their souls for what had been denied them? She wanted to ask what the rules were, since it was hardly fair to require her to abide by them without a clear understanding of what was expected. Then again, she supposed it was simple. They would guide her, and as long as she submitted, they would go no further than permitted. Her body, which had always been the kind to react more acutely to the forbidden, warmed up even more, just at the thought that she would be treading along a very fine line between the acceptable and the prohibited. Danger. Surrender. Mystery. All of them influenced her libido as powerfully as the pheromones her Masters’ bodies were pumping into the air. Oh, the agony. Oh, the wicked pleasure. Xander finally pressed the head of his cock against her lips. At last! Inhaling deeply, dragging in the addictive odor of man, fresh air and feral hunger, she flicked her tongue over the tip, licking away the droplet of semen that had collected there. He tasted as delicious as he smelled. She glanced up, looking for an assurance that she could use her hands. He responded with a nod. The glitter of hunger in his heavily-lidded eyes made her shudder. Cupping his testicles with one hand, she closed her other fist around the base of his cock. A low groan encouraged her as she used hand and mouth, teeth and tongue, to please and torment her Master. Bastien was doing his best to drive her crazy. He nibbled and licked her neck and ear, nipped her shoulders, pinched and pulled her nipples and then, as if that wasn’t enough, resorted to fucking her with two fingers. They plunged in and out of her wet pussy in time to Xander’s thrusts in and out of her mouth. Her spine had stiffened. Her mind clouded. Her muscles bunched into tight, trembling masses. Just as she was about to either fall over or cry out for mercy, both her Masters withdrew from her. She whimpered. So close. She’d been on the brink of orgasm. The tingling had erupted in her belly. Such a cruel game they played. She hated it.
“This is so unfair!” “This way.” Xander helped her to her feet. Unsteady and soft-kneed, she staggered to the sex swing. Her Masters positioned her in the swing, arms overhead, legs parted, secured at the knee and ankle. The position was both supremely comfortable and wildly unnerving. She was completely vulnerable and exposed. Even her most private parts. And her Masters weren’t even trying to disguise the fact that they were enjoying the sight of her like this. Xander stood on her left, Bastien on her right. “This session, we will focus on your body.” Xander turned to a nearby door and opened it, revealing a closet full of sex toys. She’d never seen so many gadgets and gizmos, some curious, some bizarre. And a few, scary. “What amplifies your pleasure. What diminishes it. Some brides find freedom in being bound, a peace and calm they can’t otherwise achieve. Some look to pain and the flood of endorphins it produces. It liberates them. Energizes them. It makes them high, and sometimes intensifies their body’s reaction to sexual stimulation, to fucking.” He came closer, a thick dildo in his fist. “What is it for you? What are you searching for when you submit, Maggie?” She thought about it for a minute, really pondered it. And she realized she’d never taken the time to put her needs into words, to even try to understand what she was looking for. Why did she want to be dominated? Why did she feel a need to be in a position of powerlessness? Why was that erotic to her? “I guess it excites me, that little hint of danger intensifies my reaction. But not pain. Hurting distracts me.” “Very well.” He reached for a tube of lubricant, meanwhile motioning to Bastien with a tip of his head. She swiveled her head, catching Bastien’s response. He turned, and opening a second door on the opposite wall, removed a leather blindfold from a second closet. Her heart thumped fast and heavy in her chest, and her pussy clenched, wet and hungry, as he secured the mask over her eyes. Sight gone. Hands tied. Legs too. She could breathe. She could speak. But otherwise, she was at Xander and Bastien’s mercy. And what a wonderful place to be. They ran soft tickly feathers over her body, giving her chills, then followed that with warm oil and hard hands. Breasts, stomach, legs, clit. They stroked and rubbed, until her stomach was rhythmically convulsing, tipping her hips forward and back in time to the waves of heat rippling through her body. Sightless, she didn’t know where the next touch would come from. Didn’t know if it would be hard or soft, teasing and languorous or hard and sharp. With each surprise, her muscles tightened, a rush of warm heat washed down her torso, and the promise of a powerful orgasm drew nearer. A lifetime later, the ultimate pleasure came when they fucked her with the dildo, slow at first, then faster, harder, just like her body demanded, until she was shaking and every nerve in her body had ignited into flame. “Come. Now,” one of her Masters demanded. Her orgasm blazed through her body like an atomic explosion. She cried out into the silence, tears streaming down her cheeks, hands balled into tight fists.
They knew how to draw out her orgasm, to keep it going and going. Thrusts and caresses prolonged the pleasure. Pulse after pulse of sheer bliss pounded through her until she was too tired to endure any more. Bastien removed the mask. Xander helped her from the sex swing. Together, they led her to the bed and laid with her, holding her, soothing her with husky whispers and murmured promises until she drifted into a deep sleep. With a great big smile on her face. Yep, deciding to put off going home for a few minutes sure had been a good move.
Chapter 6 Bastien studied the room, his trained eyes searching for something, anything, that might indicate why someone had reportedly broken into the building he now stood inside, the home of a guy he’d known for years, Slade Ruiz. Strange. Despite a thorough search, he’d found no signs of forced entry, nothing that hinted there’d been a crime committed at all. He took another look at the floor by the front door, the door frame and jamb. “You say nothing was stolen?” he asked for the third time, after reporting in to the precinct on his radio. “Not that I could find,” Slade answered. “I’ve checked every room in the house.” “What makes you think there’s been a break-in then?” More or less convinced there was nothing here to pursue, he turned to Slade, standing next to him. “Some things were moved. Like this.” Slade walked to the opposite side of the room, indicating the door of an entertainment armoire. “I always keep these closed.” “But nothing was taken?” He jotted a couple notes down then tucked his palm tablet computer into his shirt pocket. The armoire’s doors were clean, no visible damage. The audio and visual equipment looked like it hadn’t been touched. Even the slight coating of dust on top of the video disk player had remained undisturbed. He pulled a business card from his pocket. “Sorry, but without evidence of a crime, there’s nothing I can do.” He passed his card to Slade. “Not a problem. I just wanted to report it, you know, in case something came up later.” Slade dropped the card on a nearby table and followed Bastien to the door. Doorknob in his fist, and one foot outside, Bastien nodded. “Sure. Call me if you do find something missing.” “Thanks.” Bastien called a Code-4 and headed back to his car, parked in the street, in front of the house. What a weird case. Slade Ruiz wasn’t the kind to make a false report. Bastien believed there’d been someone in the house. But what could he do? Even though he was as convinced as Slade that someone had been in the house, he had nothing to go on.
Calls like that didn’t happen very often, the kind that made no sense and left him with a nagging weight in his gut. What the hell had the perp been up to? *** Xander stared at the solid blue computer screen in disgust. A fucking virus! His computer had caught a virus from that damn human Internet. Fuck and double fuck! The human world was a toxic mess, but their Internet made even the most polluted parts look like paradise. Despite superior protection against online invasion, he’d still managed to get his computer infected. Obviously, that was the price he’d pay for accessing parts of the web he hadn’t been able to visit before. But now, thanks to some viral code written by a punk who’d probably barely made it into puberty, he was going to lose precious time. Once he and Bastien had completed the claiming of their bride, another pair of knights was scheduled to access the portal. If they were fortunate, they could be entering the human’s world within the next forty-eight hours. He had to be prepared to protect them, as well as Alyria and the portal -- their lifeline to the human world -- within that timeframe. Would he be ready? Did he dare let them go hunting if he wasn’t, knowing there might be someone on the other side, waiting for them? Someone besides their bride? Only once before had Alyria faced an invasion by humans. It had taken several dozen human generations to erase all traces of the war between their worlds from the humans’ collective memory. And even longer to clean up the damage they’d done to Alyria’s economy and ecology. To think they’d be facing that danger again. With their need for human brides, Alyria would always be vulnerable. Ironically, to sever the connection to the human world would mean the end of theirs. Then again, to delay the claiming might seem an easy solution. Until he and Bastien had sealed the claim to their bride, the portal remained locked to other knights. No problem. Right? Wrong. A chemical change in the human bride’s body didn’t make that possible. Unfortunately, no Twelfth Knight bride had ever survived longer than thirty-six hours in Alyria without being claimed. He couldn’t stomach risking his bride’s life, although his vow to protect the Brotherhood at all cost left him with no other choice. For this reason, he had vowed he wouldn’t set foot out of his office until his computer was restored and he had at least assured his fellow knights’ safety. Duty had to come first, no matter the price. *** “The claiming must take place within twenty-four hours,” a voice cut through the thick haze that had slowly seeped into Maggie’s head and carried her away to a restless sleep full of bizarre dreams. Sweat slicked her skin, yet she shivered with a toothchattering chill. Fever? Was she sick? She blinked open her eyes. The room was dark. She sensed someone was in the room with her but couldn’t see him. “If your Masters don’t claim you, or you do not return to your world in the next twenty-four hours, you will die.”
“Say what?” That news woke her up all right. She hiked herself up to a sitting position with trembling arms and tucked the covers around her quaking form. “What’s wrong with me?” She recognized the voice speaking to her. It was the masked man. He’d found her, as he’d promised. “Our environment contains trace amounts of a gas that is not present in yours. It enters your system as you breathe and is spread by your bloodstream. But your body is unable to process the chemical, and slowly it gathers, a poison, until it eventually causes major organ failure. Your liver, kidneys, heart. Eventually, as larger concentrations collect in your brain, you start having seizures…” She pressed her flattened hands to her temples to ease the odd twitches of pain that had just started. “I feel awful. I need to go home.” Blinking, she scanned the room. Where had Bastien and Xander gone? Why had they left her alone? Did they know she’d be sick? “I’m still working on a way to get you home. Ironically, the portal remains locked to anyone but your Masters until your claiming has been completed. But once your claiming is complete, you cannot return to your home. It’s a catch-22.” “Wait, you said I couldn’t go home because of something about my memories…? Right?” “That… and your leaving Alyria once you’ve been claimed would lead to certain death.” “A minor problem,” she joked, although frankly, there was nothing to laugh about. She felt worse than the one time she’d had the flu, spent two days sleeping on her couch, too weak to walk the (seeming) miles from her living room to her bed. She sighed. Oddly, she missed Xander and Bastien, even though normally when she was ill, all she wanted was to be left alone, to suffer in private misery. Being sick was oh so humiliating. “But when you came to me before, you promised to help me.” “I said I wanted to help you. I never promised I could.” “So, you don’t know how to help me escape?” Great. Just her luck. She’d scored herself a newbie-savior who didn’t know what the heck he was doing. The twinges in her temples amplified. “Do you have any good news to share with me? Because I could use some right now.” “Ummm. The good news is I think I’ve found a way to activate the portal.” “Yeah? So why are we sitting around here?” Moving slowly, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and lowered herself to her feet. Ohh, she felt woozy. And yikes, the room was as cold as a fricking meat locker. Blanket wrapped toga style, she gripped the edge of the bed and searched the dark room. “Where are you? I need a little help. How about switching on a light?” “Sure.” There was a humming sound and then a soft glow illuminated the room. She found Mr. Mask standing next to the door and motioned to him. “Do you see some clothes around here? I really don’t want to wander around naked anymore. I’m freezing.” Teeth chattering, she lifted a corner of her toga up over her shoulder. Mask shook his head. “We can’t go to the portal yet. You must be accompanied by both of your Masters. Since you were the last to pass through, the portal will only open for you and your Masters… At least, I think it still will. There is no record of a bride and Masters passing back through the portal after more than a handful of hours. It
was never meant to allow brides to traverse back and forth between worlds like a revolving door.” He sounded so doubtful she wondered if it was worth the trouble to even try. She had no idea where this magical portal was. She had no idea where her Masters were. And she had no idea how she’d get her Masters to take her there. “You must locate your Masters and convince them to take you to the portal.” Like she didn’t see that coming. “Me? What about some help?” He shook his head. “I can’t.” “Can’t or won’t? FYI, I can barely stand. I have no clothes. I have no means of transportation. I don’t know my way around. Do you really think I stand a snowball’s chance in Hades of finding Xander and Bastien?” Worn out from standing, she slumped onto the bed. All she wanted to do was assume a horizontal position, close her eyes, and let her strange dreams carry her away again. “You’re absolutely no help. Go away. I’m too sick to deal with this right now.” She flopped onto her side and kicked her legs up. The blanket wrapped around her, like dough around a cocktail weenie, she rolled onto her back. Ahhh. Warmth. “Hey, I’m trying here. I can’t do everything for you,” Mask said, sounding injured. “If you don’t want to go home, then the hell with it. I’ll leave you alone and you can stay here and be a plaything for your Masters for the rest of your life…” “Yeah, well, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” she snapped, getting annoyed. If he wouldn’t help her, what the hell? Why not leave her alone? What kind of psycho tempts a girl with promises of escape and then more or less snatches her hope away at his first chance? Meanie. “Do you really think you’d be content to live the rest of your life like this? Fucking. Eating. Sleeping. That’s it. That’s all you’d do, day after day. Fuck. Eat. Sleep…” “Well.” She thought about it for a second. Her job had never been a thrill ride, but it hadn’t been dreary either. On the other hand, a future with the sex gods wasn’t looking all that bad. “… where you’d never again have a reason to step out of the house. No stress. No challenge. No responsibilities…” On second thought, she liked having a reason to wake up every morning, as much as she’d enjoyed her nightly escape into her books. “Your life’s focus would be pleasing your Masters…” And her boss, Mr. Holloway. Who’d drive him to the doctor for his monthly appointments and make sure he took his heart medicine? He wasn’t a blood relative, but he was the closest she had to one anymore. He needed her. Then again, he had a son who lived in Pennsylvania. He’d mentioned someday moving in with him and retiring. “… All you’d be expected to do is look pretty, serve your Masters as they wished, and then wait for the next time they had need for you…” “Sounds dreamy,” she said flatly. Gosh, after her husband’s death, she’d viewed her job as part-time-nurse-slash-secretary as both a necessity as well as a wonderful gift. Who’d have thought she’d find the possibility of luxury and nonstop kinky sex with two living gods empty?
“… You could perhaps find something to do with all that extra time, like, I don’t know. Brush up on your counting skills…” “Counting skills?” Was he kidding? She slid him a questioning look and received a nod as an answer. “Brides do not work outside the home. A bride’s one and only purpose is to serve her Masters’ sexual needs. All other functions are handled by other servants, hired to clean, tend to any children that might come along later.” “That won’t be so bad, if I can have some books.” “You won’t find a single romance novel in Alyria.” A chill pricked her nape. “You’re kidding me. No books?” “There is a reason for that. It’s complicated --” It was Jack all over again. Books were evil, polluted a woman’s mind. Gave a woman unrealistic expectations about men, sex. “What about movies?” “Nope.” Shit. “Television?” “No.” Fuck. “Radio?” He shook his head. Double fuck. Shades of her marriage, the dark time. “Bad poetry?” He gave her a blank look at that one. Okay, so much like her dead husband -- may he burn in hell for all eternity -- her new Masters expected her to sit, stare at the walls and wait to be summoned? Why? Didn’t they realize a happy, contented woman wasn’t a threat to their manhood? Besides, didn’t keeping half the population of Alyria out of the workforce cause problems with their economy? How did they manage? Who did their filing? Fed their documents into the shredder? Answered their phones? Was there no one who had a need for a good secretary with exceptional communication skills and experience with Microsoft Office in this strange place? Or did they subscribe to the Jack Dunning philosophy on controlling women? Keep them on a short leash so they can’t move, breathe, think without your knowing it. “What about other brides? I hate gossip circles, but even sitting in a room of clucking chickens beats being lonely and bored to death --” “It’s our custom that you will remain at home for the first five years.” She gasped. “Five years?” “Again, there is a reason for this. We don’t have time to discuss Alyria’s long and somewhat unpleasant history. Just understand that this is the way it will be. They will mate with you every day. Sate their hunger and then leave.” “Mate? It sounds so… icky.” Her heart sank. There was no way she could live like some kind of animal again, a dog breeder’s choice bitch. She’d rather die first. Without a job, a hobby, something, she’d lose herself, who she was. Who she’d fought to become. She’d only begun her journey. She wasn’t ready to give up. Relying entirely on her two kidnappers to provide for every penny, stitch of clothing and meal wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t allow herself to fall back into such a vulnerable and powerless position. Not when she’d fought for the right to make her own decisions, to live her life as she wanted.
Since her husband’s death, her new life might not have been perfect, but for the first time she’d had a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, not to mention freedom. She did adore having the choice to do what she wanted, when she wanted. Oy, despite her fantasies, being a sex toy for a couple of men with to-die-for bods and sex drives to match wasn’t her thing. Resolved, she pushed herself back into a sitting position and scooted off the bed, dragging her toga with her. On legs no sturdier than half-molten marshmallows, she tottered toward the door. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve driven home your point. I give. You’re right. I wouldn’t be happy being a living blowup doll. I’d be miserable.” Exhausted, she sagged against the wall next to the door. “Maybe I’d never have another worry about paying my bills. It looks like Xander and Bastien live pretty good. They fed me well, and treated me…” Her cheeks flamed at the memory of their treatment. “… really good, even if they have this thing about making me run around naked all the time. Sooner or later, they’d have to give me clothes. I couldn’t possibly be expected to go in public nude, but that’s beside the point.” “Brides are never clothed.” “Well, that’s just wrong. I mean, ewww! Naked butts on public buses? Park benches? Theater seats? That’s not even sanitary.” “As I stated, there would be no reason for you to leave your home. At least not in the first five years. Your every need would be met, without your leaving home.” “I’d be a… prisoner.” Again. She heaved a heavy sigh. “Will you at least tell me where I’m supposed to find them? Where I’m supposed to go?” “I have a map.” He produced a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “Yay!” For the first time since she’d woken, she felt a glimmer of hope. She snatched the map out of his hand. “But you’ll have to lose the covering.” “Huh?” she asked, studying the confusing lines on the paper. Was she reading it upside down? “The covering on your body. As I said, brides remain unclothed, no matter where they are. If anyone sees you like this, they’ll know you’re new, and likely unclaimed. I don’t want to scare you, but it’s not exactly safe for unclaimed brides to be out wandering about.” “Screw that. You can accompany me.” She flicked her wrist, making the paper snap in the air. “I have no idea what this is. Which way does it go? What the heck is this?” She pointed at a string of meaningless symbols at the top. “It’s not even written in English. How am I supposed to figure it out? Huh?” “Well… I just can’t go with you… If anyone sees me --” “We’ll simply have to be careful. Come on. You want to help me get home, then for crissakes, help me!” She snagged his elbow and yanked him through the doorway. What kind of rescuer was this guy, giving a girl a useless map she can’t read and then telling her she’s on her own? He was going to have to do better than that. “Hold up.” Her uncooperative savior jerked his arm loose and, grinning, pointed at her blanket-clad body. “You can’t go out like that. Remember? Brides go nude, at all times.”
Chapter 7 Maggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d stepped foot in public without at least a tank top and mid-thigh length skirt or shorts on. She never went to the beach -- her body was not exactly bathing suit perfect. Even at home, in the middle of August, she covered the curvier parts of herself. With the exception of the shower, she was never unclothed. And this guy expected her to sashay down a public street in her birthday suit? Wasn’t going to happen. No way! Her face flamed. Her temples throbbed. “If you wish to return home, this is the only way.” She felt too yucky to argue. “Who made it a rule that women have to run around this place naked? I want to know that. Obviously, it was a man. Couldn’t have been a woman.” “Our society is roughly ninety percent male, and all our lawmakers are men.” “No surprise there. I say you could use a woman’s voice in your government.” “Are you volunteering to be that voice?” “Hell no. I’m going home. Remember?” “Are you?” He looked meaningfully at the blanket she clutched in her whiteknuckled fists like a lifeline. “I don’t wish you to take this the wrong way, but there isn’t a man in our world who won’t find you captivating. Every inch of you.” “Is every man on this planet -- world -- whatever blind?” His gaze traveled down her covered body then back up. “Nope. We just like our women soft and curvy and feminine. Like you.” As if her face wasn’t hot enough, now it was scorching. “Shut up. I don’t believe you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, even though his compliment made her feel a little giddy. After being told for years she was fat and ugly, his words were like food for her soul. In the past twelve to fifteen hours, she’d had three men tell her she was beautiful. Three. That was more than in her entire life. “Fine. If I have to lose the blanket, I’ll do it. But I have to tell you, I don’t like this. Not even a little.” “Excellent. There is one problem, though, with me accompanying you.” “Oh no, you’re not dishing me some lame excuse when I just agreed to go out in public completely naked.” “I’m wearing this mask for a reason.” “So?” “So, I can’t go out in public like this. I’ll attract attention to myself, and to you.” “Then ditch it.” “I’ll be recognized. And that’ll ruin my chances for helping other brides in the future.” “But I can’t find Xander and Bastien by myself. This map is worthless; I have no idea where I am --” Silence. Mask shook his head, turned and stared at the wall. “Okay. I’ll follow you. Without the mask.”
“Hell no. You are not going to spend the next hour -- minute -- whatever, staring at my butt. Some things are just… unacceptable.” “Fine. You can follow me. I promise not to look at your butt if you promise not to look at my face.” “Deal.” “Deal.” They shook on their completely insane agreement and then, with Mask’s back turned toward her, he stripped off the mask, and she dropped the blanket. The indignities a girl had to face in this bizarre world to gain her freedom! *** Was that…? Impossible! Xander craned his neck, leaning far to the right in his chair. He could’ve sworn he just saw his new bride prancing down the walkway outside, gathering admiring stares from dozens of passing knights. His window was a narrow strip of a substance that allowed natural light into the office while limiting his view of the outside, which was normally no problem. But at the moment, he found the inhibiting size annoying. No. Couldn’t be Maggie. She wouldn’t have the courage to leave home, and she didn’t know her way around. It would be impossible for her to find her way here. He forced himself to return to the frustrating task of debugging his computer. He’d been at it for hours, but hadn’t made much headway yet. The virus that had attacked his machine had been extremely virulent, rewriting thousands of lines of code. He figured it would take him a full twenty-four hours to mop up the mess. Twenty-four hours that should be spent chasing the person responsible for exposing the knights to the humans. Twenty-four hours he wished could be spent with his new bride. If only he’d thought to take the time to prepare another computer, he’d at least have a backup to turn to and his suffering would be briefer. Not to mention, his bride’s life wouldn’t be at risk. Nothing he could do about his lack of planning now. He had completed work on one line of code when an unexpected visitor, breathless and wild-eyed, burst into his office. Dammit, he had no time for interruptions! “She’s gone! Maggie.” Bastien rushed to his desk, planted his hands on the top and sputtered, “Vanished!” “No.” Xander felt his brows draw together. His gaze shot to the window then bounced back to Bastien. “I thought I caught a glimpse of her a few minutes ago, but figured I was mistaken --” “Where?” Following the line of Xander’s ping-ponging gaze, Bastien strode to the window. “You saw her?” “Outside. I thought it might be her. But I’m not sure. I caught only a glance. Of the back of a woman. With the same color hair… and curvy ass… yeah, it was her. How’d she find her way here?” He bound from his chair at the precise moment Bastien lunged for the door. Bastien made it through the doorway first. With Xander on his heels, Bastien zigged and zagged around Xander’s startled coworkers. He stopped so suddenly as they rounded a corner, that Xander bounced off his back, the recoil sending him staggering into someone else behind him. “Maggie!” Bastien shouted.
Both furious and relieved, Xander charged forward, a bull seeing red. He rounded Bastien, who he saw had a firm hold of their wandering bride, and drilled her with the fierce glower. He took a hold of her other arm and together, they hauled her back to his office. After the door was closed, he let loose with a blast of expletives, lost in the volume of Bastien’s booming voice delivering more of the same, punctuated by the occasional question, such as, “How did you find us?” and “Why didn’t you wait for us at home?” On the receiving end of both of her Masters’ verbal assault, she looked small and remorseful as she stared, silent and forlorn, down at her clenched hands. Instantly the fire of his rage was doused. What the hell were they doing? They had only themselves to blame. Maggie didn’t know how dangerous it was to wander Alyria by herself. They hadn’t told her. They’d simply left, both of them, to attend to their respective obligations, leaving their unclaimed bride alone. Of course, she’d set about wandering. In her world, it was perfectly acceptable for a woman to go in public unaccompanied. He traded remorseful scowls with Bastien. The room went silent, except the sniffling of one teary-eyed bride. “We owe you an apology.” Xander reached forward, expecting, by the sudden glitter of anger in her eyes, to receive a hefty dose of what he and Bastien had just dished out. Instead, there was silence. Agonizing silence. Searing heat swept through his system, the effects of Maggie’s unique and utterly addictive pheromone. If she didn’t leave soon, he’d be completing the claiming right there, in his office. He’d be powerless to resist the urge. And then the next pair of knights to enter the portal would be in danger. Silently, he struggled to battle the temptation to kiss those trembling lips, to sculpt the perfect curves of her body with his hands and bury his cock deep in her slick passage. He stole a glance at Bastien. Oh yeah, he was losing it too. Bastien’s face was drawn into a mask of tense, restrained hunger. Damn it all, if that virus hadn’t attacked his computer, none of them would be suffering like this. “Xander,” Bastien muttered, an instant before he pulled their bride into an embrace, tipping his head to nuzzle her neck. Her body turned as Bastien manipulated it, providing Xander with a clear view of her round ass. The soft, sweet sound of her whimper nearly knocked him to his knees as a wave of pleasure coursed through his body. That ass. Soft and round. Perfect. Trembling with mounting need he struggled to contain, he moved closer, cupping the silky flesh in his palms. The heat radiating from her skin seeped into his blood. Ecstasy. He sank to his knees, dragging in gulp after gulp of musky-scented air. He could think of nothing but tasting her, drinking her sweet honey as it pulsed from her swollen flesh. He eased her feet apart, and positioned himself between them. Oh yes. Heaven. But before he had his first taste, Bastien moved to a nearby chair, taking her with him. Sitting, he coaxed her to lean over him, dangling a full breast over his mouth.
Bent at the waist, her feet once again planted wide apart, her position allowed Xander free access to her ass and pussy. While Bastien feasted on Alyria’s most perfect nipples, Xander feasted on Alyria’s most perfect pussy. He drank her sweet juices, ever hungry for more. His tongue danced over her clit. At the sound of a broken sigh, he thrust two fingers into her slit then withdrew them, dragging her cream back toward her anus. Soon, his cock would be pistoning in and out of that hot canal. But not soon enough. His cock burned. His balls ached. He wanted to claim his bride. He prayed to the goddess for the strength to endure the torture. Only to have what remained of his will beaten down by the desperate cry of his bride as she trembled over top of him. “Please. No more,” she begged. Her legs were shaking. Her skin puckered, covered with gooseflesh. Muttering a curse, he unzipped his pants and circled his erection with his damp fingers. They couldn’t afford to give her what she wanted. Hell, they couldn’t afford for him to take the time to give her even a handful of minutes of pleasure. The safety of Alyria had to be his primary focus, over everything else. If he was going to have any hope of saving her life, he had to stop this now. Oh hell! He pulled in a deep Maggie-scented breath. Goddess have mercy. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He ducked and forced himself to crawl backward, out from underneath her. “Xander?” Bastien promptly took over, cupping a hand over her sex and sliding a finger between her folds. She sighed and shuddered, which was quite a sight from his vantage, on his knees a couple feet away. He closed out the sight of his bride’s full buttocks and shapely legs, turned and went back to work, while Bastien continued to worship Maggie’s body as he wished he could. His office was filled with her soft cries and whimpers, punctuated by the taptapping of his computer’s keyboard as he worked. *** What the fuck was up with Xander? If it wasn’t for the fact that Bastien was driving her insane with the most skillful mouth, tongue, teeth and hands to be seen in this galaxy, she’d have been highly insulted. What man walked away from a woman who was naked, dripping wet and begging to be fucked? Fortunately for her, Bastien seemed to be inspired to make up for Xander’s shortfall. He stopped his ever-so-effective tormenting long enough to swap places with her. She lounged on the chair, her bottom on the very edge of the seat, her legs spread wide. And he knelt before her, her knees hooked over his shoulders and his head buried between her thighs. What that man could do with his tongue. “Oh, God!” she chanted, over and over. His tongue flicked over her clit, applying exactly the right amount of pressure she needed, while his fingers fucked her slowly. His knuckles scraped the sensitive upper wall of her vagina, increasing her pleasure. She kept her eyelids half-open so she could watch Bastien eat her while she played with her nipples, and Xander squirm in his chair as he pecked at the keyboard with his index fingers. He shot an occasional glance her way. His face grew redder every time he did, which only spiked her already soaring body temperature. He was watching. Mmmmm.
She’d never imagined herself an exhibitionist, but she had to admit the idea of Xander watching her being eaten was driving her absolutely crazy. What if someone else came into the room? Eeeeeehhhh… ooooohhhhh! A blast of heat rocketed through her body. Her eyelids too heavy to hold up any longer, they dropped down to shut her off from the world outside, cocooning her in a swirling world of wildly intense, pulsing sensations. The sound of her breathing and the soft smacking of Bastien’s perfect-wonderfulabsolutely-scrumptious lips echoed in her ears. The musky scent of her own arousal burned in her nose. And tingles rippled through her body, igniting every nerve from her head to the soles of her feet. She wanted a thick cock. She needed a thick cock. Pumping in and out of her pussy. Bastien’s fingers were beyond wonderful, and his mouth… even more amazing. But she burned with the need to be fucked. Slow, fast, soft, hard. Any and every way imaginable. Right about the time she was ready to scream her frustration to everyone in earshot, the pounding of heavy footsteps toward her inspired her to open her eyes. “Fucking hell! I can’t stand this.” Xander! Yay! He stood behind Bastien, his lips drawn into a thin line. The muscles of his neck were tight ropes, his jaw clenched so tightly, he hardly looked like himself. He leaned over Bastien and closed his hot mouth over her right breast, suckling so hard, she bucked her hips back. “Oh God, yes! Fuck me.” Her plea was followed by the sound of frenzied movement, cloth rustling, zippers zinging, men grunting. Xander took her hands in his and led her from the chair to his desk. He cleared the surface with one swoop of his thick arm then gently lowered her onto her back. “We cannot claim her,” he growled. “Okay,” Bastien said, sounding as breathless as she felt. He stood at her side, hands exploring every inch of her body. Xander circled around to the end of the desk, lifted her legs and teased her slit with the head of his cock. “Yes, yes, yes!” Blown away by the frenzy of sensations pummeling her system, she gripped the edge of the desk with her hands and held her breath. The next moment, the air exploded from her lungs in a scream of pleasure when he plunged inside, seating himself fully. He was big, hard, perfect. And he knew the exact angle, the precise rhythm her body craved. Bastien stood beside her, one fist gliding up and down his cock, the fingers of the other hand dancing over her clit. Xander’s cock pounded in and out of her tight pussy, stroking, possessing, taking. She spread her legs wider and clenched her inner muscles, welcoming the intensified sensations the position gave her. Sweat streamed down her temples and gathered between her breasts. She gulped in shallow gasps of air between cries of bliss. Having been driven to the very cusp of climax before Xander had entered her, her body quickly reached orgasm. The prickly heat swept through her body, drawing out a heavy sigh. She arched her back as her every nerve ignited and every muscle pulsed.
But just as she felt the telltale sensation of Xander’s cock swelling with cum, he pulled out. He groaned as his semen spurted onto her breasts and stomach in short, rhythmic bursts. A split second later, Bastien added his cum to Xander’s. She wasn’t even fully recovered when they cleaned her up and helped her off the desk. While she sat in the chair, trying to gather up the strength to go through with what she knew would be close to impossible, the duo of sex gods huddled together, talking in hushed tones.
Chapter 8 It really was a shame she couldn’t have both the Dynamic Duo -- such an apt label for her lovers -- and the meaningful, rewarding life that came with freedom. Because if it were possible, she’d consider staying in this strange world, regardless of its quirks. To say she’d never had such amazing sex… it was the world’s biggest understatement. They made her feel, want, imagine things she’d never before. Sex with two men. Two impossibly gorgeous men. Oh. My. God. Beyond mind-blowing. But most importantly, they made her feel sexy. They didn’t ridicule. They not only accepted her as she was, but they seemed to appreciate her as she was. Physically. Sexually. In every way. It really pissed her off that she had to walk away from this, from them. Life was so unfair! She wanted her cake, pie and ice cream too. She was still tingling all over, giddy and satisfied. But it was time to get going, before she lost her nerve, or before those wicked pheromones the Dynamic Duo produced kick-started her libido again. Pheromones sucked. Since she’d been a little distracted, she hadn’t been able to think of a good lie to convince her Masters to take her to the portal. Didn’t help that she was the world’s worst liar ever. And an even lamer manipulator. Time was running out and she was getting panicky. Since Xander had made love to her, the few memories of her former life she’d managed to hang onto had grown even more shadowy and vague. Although she knew in her gut that she’d been content, and had enjoyed her work, she couldn’t remember a single detail anymore -- what her job had been, who her friends had been, where she’d lived. For some reason, all she could think about was freedom. Why? She hoped something would spark her memories when she returned. If not, she’d be lost and confused. How would she find her way home? Would she know her home when she saw it? “Will you take me to the portal?” “No.” Standing beside his desk, his brows slanted, Xander regarded her with a troubled look. “Why would you want to see the portal?” She caught him swapping worried looks with Bastien as he pulled on his clothes. God, he was gorgeous. Almost made her forget what she was trying to accomplish. “I was curious to see what a magical portal looks like.” Two blank faces stared at her.
Okay, so they weren’t buying that explanation. It was lame. Who could blame them? She was going to have to do better. For some reason self-reliance, personal fulfillment. Freedom. Those were all that mattered. Think, think, think! Since bringing her to Alyria, the Dynamic Duo had put on this tough act. But when push came to shove, they’d proven themselves to be big softies -- far more concerned with her feelings than worried about properly “training” her as a submissive. She hated to use their good-heartedness to her advantage, but what else did she have? “It’ll help me put some closure on my former life. Please,” she added, making sure her voice sounded as desperate as she could make it, “this means a lot to me.” The Duo traded looks again. Xander’s expression was more strained; Bastien’s more obliging. Sensing she was making some headway, at least with Bastien, she forged on. “You expect me to accept a whole new life, one foreign to me -- confusing, a little scary. Total subservience? No clothes. No job. No independence. You’ve got to be fair.” She stood, took Bastien’s hands in hers and tipped her head to meet his gaze. “It’s human nature. I need to say goodbye to what I knew before I can even think of accepting this new life, this new role. You didn’t give me that chance when you kidnapped me.” Please say yes. Please! “Xander?” She turned her attention to him. “I know you care about me. I know you want what’s best.” A muscle in his jaw ticked but he didn’t command her to silence like she knew he could -- and probably wanted to. “But you have to realize you’re asking for a lot,” she pushed. “I’m giving up everything. I just want to say goodbye.” It twitched again. He sighed. His gaze slid to Bastien then back to her again. “No bride has returned to the portal, yet they’ve all come to accept their new life. Every bride…” He launched into this long and confusing explanation of why he couldn’t allow her to see the portal. Meanwhile, as he rambled on, she sank into a deep pit of despair. He had made his decision. The answer was no. She was going to live as a prisoner, held captive against her will, unable to make decisions for herself any longer. Even decide what she was going to eat. What clothes she’d wear. Where she’d go. No, no, no! “I’m not ‘every bride’,” she snapped, eyes burning. “I’m me.” Bastien gently tightened his grip on her fingertips. “Your memories should have faded --” “Well, they haven’t,” she lied. “I’m homesick and scared, and you’re being completely unreasonable. What would you do if someone hauled you off and informed you that you’d no longer be able to see the people you loved, return to your job, or ever again enjoy the things that made you happy? I like to work. To face obstacles and overcome them. To accomplish something for myself. Those things make life worth living.” Blinking at the tears gathering in her eyes, she continued, “I never realized how much I need to not only be loved and cared for, but also grow and push myself. Fantasy is terrific. It gives a girl a break from the everyday. But fantasy everyday, all day is just… monotony.”
“You will come to accept your life here.” Xander’s voice was soothing, the hand he pressed to the small of her back even more so. Yet she refused to let it douse the fury raging through her system. This was it. If she lost this battle, she’d lose the war. She’d remain in Alyria forever, her former life -- all thirty-something years -- stolen from her. They’d vanish completely, as if they’d never happened. As if she’d come from nowhere. A woman with no past. “I have to see the portal. I’ll never accept this life if I don’t.” Silence. Heavy. Tense. She struggled with the temptation to fill the void. A part of her wondered if something more could be said, something that would make Xander and Bastien understand where she was coming from. But another part of her felt she’d said all she needed to. Finally, Xander broke the silence. “I have something very important to do right now. Something that can’t wait. We’ll discuss this later.” She was both mature enough to accept the fact that asking Xander to drop everything and haul her to the portal might be more than a little inconvenient… and frustrated enough not to care. Her memories were not just slipping away anymore, but rocketing away. The ticking clock was racing. No, if she waited even an hour, there would be no reason to go. She’d no longer know the former life she was trying to return to. “Isn’t there any way?” she pleaded. “I can take her,” Bastien offered. “Hmmm,” was Xander’s response. This was not what she needed. Mask had said both her Masters had to be present. Already, she could see what was coming. Since she’d arrived in Alyria, Xander had let Bastien do all the caretaking, while he pitched in when it was convenient. Bastien had come to her first, when she woke up in the dungeon. Bastien had brought her food. And now it was Bastien who would satisfy her need for closure. Maybe she had no intention of sticking this situation out, but she couldn’t let Xander get away with that again. Even if it hadn’t been necessary for him to be there to make the portal work. “No,” she said before Xander had a chance to back out. “I want you both with me. It’s important. Xander, you’ve left Bastien to do most of the work when it comes to me. When are you going to start doing your share?” His eyebrows dipped. His face turned the deep cranberry shade of a beet. “Do you dare say such a thing to me, just as I was about to oblige your request?” Was he fuming! But she wasn’t going to back down. She couldn’t afford to. “Were you? Or were you going to make Bastien handle it?” His mouth opened then snapped shut. “Respect is earned, Master. Regardless of a man’s title, he still must earn the respect of his followers, his employees, his soldiers, and… most importantly those he loves.” “You don’t appreciate what pressure I’m facing now.” She tipped her chin and glared at him. “And neither do you.”
“Xander, if we must go, I say we do so quickly,” Bastien reasoned -- the man had quite the head on his shoulders. “I’m beginning to believe more time will be lost by arguing --” “There will be no arguing,” Xander interrupted. “I’ll command her to silence.” Ha! Let him try! “And you will lose my respect and trust,” she ground out. Xander clenched his fists, charged across the room, then turned and mapped the same path to his desk. Silent, furious, he stomped back and forth twice before muttering, “Very well.” And with that, they were off. One step closer to freedom. *** The portal was nothing like she’d expected. In her mind’s eye, she’d visualized something like those airport security pass-through thingies -- the ones that sounded off alarms if a girl was foolish enough to wear button-fly jeans. She’d expected something that looked technical, with blinking lights and metal gadgets and gizmos. Instead, the portal looked like a giant mirror with distorted glass. Or a movie screen displaying a film out of focus. The dark image was blurred as she stepped up to it. “This is it?” She glanced to either side, looking for some kind of switch or button to activate it. Where were the dials, keyboard? How would it know where to send her? Could she end up traveling to the wrong place? “How’s it work? There aren’t any controls. And I can’t see anything in the big screen thingy. Does it need an adjustment?” Beside her, Xander explained, “The bride activates the portal by summoning her Masters. Her voice, or rather her words, opens it. Then her Masters pass through the portal and bring her back. Later, after the claiming, the portal becomes tuned into the next bride’s location.” “So, until you two claim me, the portal will remain open to my house?” On her other side, Bastien nodded. “Yes.” “Can I see?” She stared into the deepening haze in the portal’s surface. It was growing foggier, darker, rather than clearer. “Why does it look like that?” “Your memories are fading, and with it the image in the portal and its connection to your world.” Xander caught her arm and jerked, forcing her to look at him. “You lied. Why?” A huge lump formed in her throat. “Lied about what?” “Your memories are vanishing. The portal would be clear if they weren’t.” “I lied… because I’m scared,” she shot back. “Tell me, if you were slowly losing touch with who you were and what you’d done for thirty years, wouldn’t you be freaking out a little?” The pounding echo of her racing heartbeat thumped in her ears. She watched, tense. What would he do? He closed his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair. A bloated minute later, when he opened his eyes, she was relieved to see the fire blazing in their depths had cooled. He palmed her cheek and brushed his thumb over her mouth. “There is a way to see your home. But it is dangerous and we cannot leave the portal open for any longer than a second.” “A second’s all I’ll need. What do you need me to do?”
She wondered if he could hear her wildly pounding heart. It was banging against her breastbone so hard it had to be visible. She was afraid, excited, sad, elated, caught up in a muddle of conflicting emotions. Bastien placed one of her hands in his flattened palm. “You need our story, which remains beside the portal until your claiming. And a drop of your blood.” Blood? Pain. Oh, ack! Freedom. That was all that mattered. She chanced a glance at Xander. “Don’t suppose there’s another way?” “No. This is dangerous. I’m not sure… are you certain it’s so important to you?” She nodded. “Yes. It is.” “Very well,” Bastien said, dropping onto all fours. Xander followed suit and before she knew it, she was shaking in her non-existent boots between two enormous felines with the sharpest teeth and claws she’d ever seen. Bastien had shifted forms for her once before, but now they were together, tiger and lion, and she was cornered, and they looked really hungry. How exactly had they intended to gather the blood they needed? With those huge teeth? Yikes! They’d get more than a drop or two if they bit her. More like a pint or two. But what was the point of opening the portal if it meant she’d be too dead to see anything? No, they couldn’t be planning on chomping her to bits. Of course, her head was ready and willing to accept that bit of logic. The rest of her wasn’t as easily convinced. She inched backward, wedging herself into a tight spot behind a wooden column, just in case she was wrong. Nothing to do but wait. Did they possess the minds of men when they were in their animal form? Or did they only know the instinct of the beast they’d become? What ruled their actions? Feral impulses? Or conscious thought? Why had they shifted? Although they snarled, and Xander-the-lion let loose with a roar that had to be heard for miles -- not to mention almost make her lose control of her bladder -- she slowly came to believe they were not going to eat her up. For, as much as she’d like to think she’d found herself a safe hiding place, they could’ve easily gotten to her if they’d wanted to. As if to prove that point, Bastien, the most beautiful tiger she’d ever seen up close -- the only tiger she’d seen up close -- pawed at her thigh. A razor-like claw pierced her skin. “Ouch!” she shrieked, a reaction delayed by shock, disbelief. Pressing a hand to stem the bleeding, she sidled backward, all too aware of the two sets of predatory feline eyes trained on her. They’d smelled blood! Oh no. She back-stepped around the portal, spying a book sitting on some kind of stone pedestal. Xander had mentioned a book, hadn’t he? And words? Yes. She scooped it up, flipped it over to read the title, Conquered by the Knight. That sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. She was too petrified of the enormous snarling cats in front of her to take her time figuring out why. She did wonder why they hadn’t changed back to men yet.
She inched around the back of the portal, the felines stalking behind her, and stopped directly in front of the mirror-like surface. This time, as she looked, the haze began to clear. A strange sensation, a tingly feeling, made her peer down at the book she held clutched to her breasts. It was vibrating, and a faint light seemed to be glowing from the pages inside. She flipped it open and read the words aloud at the bottom of the first page, “Where are you, Bastien and Xander? Come, find me, won’t you?” The sharp crack of thunder sent her reeling backward, her ears ringing. The book fell to the floor with a thud just as her eyes caught sight of an image that looked both foreign and painfully familiar. Home? Without thinking, she squeezed her eyes closed and dove through the opening.
Chapter 9 Maggie hit the floor with a painful thud then something extremely heavy, and hard, and most definitely masculine landed on top of her, flattening her face-down on the floor. Home. Yay! Wheeze. She might not be breathing at the moment, but at least her worst fears hadn’t come true. She remembered everything -- ugly past, better present. Job, home, boss. Hopes. Thank goodness! Now, if only she could take one lousy breath. She was still trying to re-inflate her oxygen-starved lungs when she was forced over onto her back. One scarlet-faced, wild-eyed Xander sat on top of her, knees supporting most of his weight, hands pinning hers to the floor on either side of her shoulders. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled through gritted teeth. Trying to breathe? But before she could answer, two more men -- one in mid-shift from tiger to man and another she did not recognize -- came flying through her bedroom wall. Uh oh! Bastien somersaulted across the floor, sprung to his feet and shouted, “Xander! Then he lunged at the other guy, who was racing toward the door. “Shit! No!” Xander leapt to his feet and, while she inched herself into a safe spot between the bed and the wall, sprinted after the intruder, obviously desperate to stop him from escaping her bedroom. To her surprise, even though the Dynamic Duo outnumbered the other guy, speed won over bulk. Out he went, through her bedroom door, down the short hallway to her living room. Xander and Bastien followed, hot on his heels, but she guessed when they returned a few minutes later -- without him -- they’d been unable to catch him. Oh boy. Gauging from the enraged look in their squinty eyes, they were blaming all this on her. That was unfair. Somewhat.
Maybe she had done something risky by trying to escape, but how was she to know some guy would take advantage of the open portal by crossing through when he shouldn’t have? She’d never expected that. Xander stomped toward her, his jaw set so tightly, the muscles in his neck stuck out in ropey chords. It had been several years since she’d seen a man so furious. It was intimidating, and his anger made her regret what had happened. But, unlike the last man who’d glared at her like that, she wasn’t scared of Xander. “You have no idea what you’ve done,” he growled. “No. But… you don’t think I was trying to cause trouble, do you? Because all I wanted was to come home.” He snapped, “That you’ve managed. And then some.” He caught one of her arms in his fist and gave it a slight tug before releasing it and stalking toward the door. He raked his fingers through his hair. “Now none of us can return to Alyria until Kieran is caught. Which means the portal is vulnerable.” Oh, ack. More confusing portal rules? Would she never understand how this stuff worked? She watched Xander’s retreating back then turned to Bastien. “I don’t understand. Why should it matter?” “Only under very specific circumstances can the portal be locked if a Twelfth Knight remains on this side,” explained Bastien, who seemed to be maintaining his temper a little better than Xander. “The portal’s magic works under certain conditions and not others. It was designed to keep your world safe. Alyria, on the other hand, is more vulnerable --” “Okayyy.” “Which means an entire army of humans could invade Alyria, and we can’t do a goddamn thing to stop them,” Xander added, as he returned to the room. “Oh gosh. Sorry.” She meant it. She really, really did. Even if she didn’t fully understand how the portal worked. Humans could pass through? But Alyrians couldn’t? Or did Xander mean they’d have to stay to catch Kieran? The bizarre connection between her and the Dynamic Duo made her keenly aware of their emotions, to the point of feeling them. Not only was she feeling crappy for letting some guy mess things up, but also worried and scared for Xander and Bastien’s safety, and for the future of their world. Their very nice and clean world. That whole women can’t work, wear clothes or leave their homes alone thing aside, Alyria did seem to be a nice place to live. It just wasn’t paradise for her because of her past. She’d fought so hard to get where she was. She couldn’t simply throw it all away for a couple of guys, no matter who they were. Xander helped her to her feet then released her hand and crossed his arms over his chest. Bastien stood next to him, looking a little less furious but far from gleeful. Now what? A big part of her, specifically the bit that was getting an internal thrashing from her conscience, wanted to do anything she could to make things right again. Regardless of the fact that she’d never intended on putting Alyria in jeopardy, her hasty and illplanned act had indeed put a great many people in danger. She wasn’t even crystal clear on how, exactly, humans posed a threat, but she was intuitive enough to know they did. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to ask for any specifics at the moment.
The other part -- a much smaller part -- wanted to defend her actions and send Xander and Bastien off to chase down the fugitive on their own. There was a lot they didn’t know about her. Things she couldn’t talk about again. She simply couldn’t stay in Alyria. They wouldn’t understand. Besides, how much help could she be? Well, she supposed for one, she knew her way around. And she had a car. When she’d been in Alyria, she’d needed someone to help her find her way… A certain person flashed through her head. Oh. My. Gosh! The guy who’d jumped through the portal. She’d been too distracted and out of sorts earlier to realize how familiar he’d looked. When she’d been in Alyria, he’d made sure she’d never seen his face. But having followed her masked savior for twenty minutes as she walked to Xander’s office, she’d gotten a good, long look at the back of his head and body. The escapee was none other than Mask. He’d used her. And she’d been stupid enough to let him. As if she hadn’t been feeling guilty before! That was it. She had to help Xander and Bastien, however she could. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where he might be headed?” she asked, meekly. “No. Do you?” Xander was looking a little less angry and a tad more desperate. He stood with a shoulder slumped against the wall, staring out the window. “No.” Her mind set, a course chosen, she headed for the dresser. “But I’d be glad to help if I can.” Bra, panties, a knit pullover. She tossed the garments on the bed then went to the closet for her favorite pair of jeans. With two scowling hunks watching, she pulled on her clothes. “Let me explain something to you two. Maybe women run around naked in Alyria, but in this world, being unclothed in public will get a girl thrown in jail, if not molested. Not to mention frostbite of the delicate parts sucks. Don’t ask me how I know that.” She pointed at the winter wonderland outside her window. It was early morning and the sunlight glittered off the enormous icicles hanging from the gutter. Bastien shuffled closer to the window. “Your world is white.” “And very cold.” She stepped into a pair of ankle-high boots. “But only for about four months out of the year, if we’re lucky.” A cardigan sweater and ski coat topped off her outfit. She turned a critical eye to the Dynamic Duo. “Hmmm. You two are a little underdressed. You’re going to freeze your butts off if you go out like that.” Talk about a turn of events. In Alyria, Bastien and Xander had been the ones to do all the caretaking. They’d provided her with food, shelter, her every need. Now that they were in her world, it was her turn. Unfortunately, she wasn’t as prepared as they had been. One look in her closet told her she’d have a heck of a time dressing her boys for the weather. Both sporting short sleeved shirts -- that fit their bulky selves to perfection -- and snug pants, they’d get cold in a hurry in December’s frigid temperatures. A trip to the nearest department store was in order. Pronto. But first, she needed to check something. She went to her television, switched it on, and flipped to the Weather Channel. She’d been kidnapped on a Friday night, the week before Christmas. According to the weather station, it was Saturday. Morning. Evidently, she’d returned only a few hours -- if even that -- after she’d left. This was good.
She led the grousing Dynamic Duo through her apartment. Xander complained nonstop about the length of time it was taking her to prepare to leave. He had no idea what he was saying. It had taken her five minutes. What woman was ready to face the public in five minutes -- hair combed, makeup applied? Puh-leez. Bastien asked a lot of questions about the things they passed as they headed through the kitchen and into the living room. “That’s a refrigerator. Microwave. Television. If we get a chance later, I’ll show you how they work.” A deaf ear to Xander’s grumbling, her mind working at full speed, she caught up her purse and keys on her way out the front door. “A word of warning before we go outside --” “No more delays. Another minute and we’ll never catch him.” Xander rushed ahead of her as they stepped off the building’s porch, immediately slipped on a patch of ice covering the walk, and fell on his ass. “Ouch! Dammit.” “Sorry, dearest, but I tried to warn you.” Shaking her head, she offered one redfaced Xander a hand up. She hated to admit the fact that she was enjoying the shift in power, immensely. Too much. Even so, as she looked up into his gorgeous eyes, the thought of him getting all dominating and bossy was making her toasty warm again. Clearly, it didn’t matter where they were. Those pheromones were still as powerful as always. He brushed the snow off his ass. She resisted the urge to help. Then after sliding a half-smile at her, he set off on foot, trailing a set of small animal footprints in the snow. “Here, looks like he went this way.” “He did?” She stooped down to take a look at the tracks. “Oh, he shifted?” Four paws, four toes on each. “What is he? A dog?” “In this world, he’d be called a timber wolf. And he has the advantage, since his animal form blends in easier with local species than mine and Xander’s.” Bastien hurried past her, falling into step beside Xander. “This way.” He motioned toward the creek, which sat at the bottom of a fairly steep ditch. The guys slipped and skidded down to the frozen creek and stopped, looking up and down the winding streambed. A girl who valued her safety, Maggie opted to watch their progress from up above. She was surprised to see them handling the cold so well. It was probably their determination to catch their quarry that kept them going. At just over twenty degrees Fahrenheit, it had to be a good fifty-five degrees colder than what they were accustomed to. Looks like they’ve lost the trail. Both grim, they scrabbled back up the bank. Xander nearly went careening back down when he hit a slick patch at the top. “Bastard followed the creek so we couldn’t track him.” “Hmmm.” Up close, Maggie could see the cold had taken its toll. Both Bastien and Xander were shivering, their skin reddening from wind burn. “What now?” Bastien shook his head. “Doubt we’ll catch him on foot now.” “If that’s the case, how about getting warmed up while we plan our next move?” she suggested. “I’m thinking that’s a good plan,” Bastien said, his teeth chattering. They headed back to her place, spent about ten minutes thawing out -- which was thoroughly enjoyable since it involved getting cozy under her down comforter -- and then
she proposed going about their search in a little more orderly manner. First, she had to get her Dynamic Duo properly suited up for the weather. As it turned out, neither Bastien nor Xander were particularly patient shoppers, not that she could fault them. First priority was hunting down their renegade knight. Buying clothes didn’t even register on their Important-Things-To-Do list. But buy clothes they did (or rather she did), and upon returning to Maggie’s apartment building, Xander was off again, searching for Kieran on foot. For some reason beyond her understanding, he was convinced their escapee hadn’t gone far. This time, Maggie opted to stay home where she could be warm and dry. Xander insisted he would be okay on his own, and she trusted his judgment. He was, after all, a big boy, and his sense of direction beyond question. Bastien reluctantly agreed to stay with her to guard the portal. As it turned out, she was extremely grateful he had. Because about a half hour after Xander left, as she sat cozy on the living room couch watching Tivo’d episodes of American Idol, things really started getting ugly. Now, she had an appreciation for how much danger she’d brought to Alyria and all its inhabitants -- Bastien and Xander included. Could she just die now? She jumped to her feet and raced to the door to secure the deadbolt. “Uh… Bastien!”
Chapter 10 It wasn’t Kieran’s return that alarmed her. It was the cops out front who had her worried. What the hell? “Aw, damn!” Bastien shouted, pulling her along as he raced toward the bedroom. “What the hell does that bastard think he’s doing?” “I have no idea. Evidently, he’s looking for some press.” She searched her bedroom for something useful, not that she had any clue what that might be. How did a girl hide a mystical portal to an alternate dimension? Could she disguise it somehow? At the moment, it looked like a cloudy mirrored panel on her wall. Maybe she could hang something over it. Then again, what good would that do? If Kieran pulled the curtain aside, it was there to be seen. Bastien looked as stumped as she felt. “If we could get Kieran and Xander back here, together, we could all travel back through. The portal will be closed once we’ve all returned, but it won’t lock out this location until your claiming is complete.” “And what if I refuse?” He gave her one of those you-don’t-really-need-to-ask looks. “Great. Fabulous. Absolutely freaking wonderful!” She plopped on her bed and dropped her head into her hands.
Thanks to one stupid knight who was evidently after a little glory -- or whatever -she was facing an impossible decision. Her life as she knew it, her job, her home, her freedom for a future of empty -- but pleasurable -- submission. She could smack Kieran right now. Kick him in the balls and inflict some serious damage to his dangly bits. In fact, that was a really good idea. She’d do that as soon as he was within range. “It won’t be that bad.” Bastien sounded injured, not to mention breathless. Her eyes were closed, but she could hear the pounding of his feet on the floor as he hurried from one side of the room to the other. “Your pleasure will always come first.” “Yeah. That’s just fine. It’s the whole no-job, no-freedom, no-independence thing I’m having a hard time swallowing. No offense, but not every girl wants to be swept off her feet and locked in a tower, no matter how pretty said tower might be, or how sexy her guards are either.” He dropped on his knees in front of her and gently gathered her hands into his. “There’s no other way to protect Alyria. I wish there was. And even if we can find Xander -- I have no idea where he went -- we’re still up for some trouble the next time the portal opens.” She glanced at the book, sitting on her nightstand. “What about the book? What if we destroyed it? Will it at least close the portal from here?” “I don’t know.” “The book…” Had the story she’d read changed since she’d gone to Alyria? What about the ending? She pulled her hands free and crawled across the bed. “I’m wondering…” “Good thinking!” Bastien jumped to his feet at the sharp echo of something hard striking the front door. She jumped at the second bang. “Ack!” “I’m going to have to sneak out and find Xander.” Her hands trembled as she flipped pages, making her drop the book twice before she found the last chapter. “There’s only one door.” She skimmed the first few sentences. Oh, something was different. “True. But there are plenty of windows.” She glanced up, finding Bastien, stripped nude, standing next to her bedroom window. He had the shades drawn up and the window wide open. “Tell me you aren’t going to change into a tiger and run around my apartment complex. Someone’ll shoot you or throw you in the zoo.” “It’s the only way to get out of here.” “What’ll I do if they get in?” “I’ll be right back. I doubt Xander went far, but if I can’t find him, I’ll come right back. Promise.” With that, and a sweet brush of his mouth over hers, he shifted and leapt through the open window. She leaned out, watching him land with feline grace in the snow and disappear. Alone. With an army of cops outside. The pounding was growing more urgent, separated by bouts of silence and a male voice shouting her name. Making sure to stay out of sight, she ran through the living room to check the door. So far the bolt was holding. Then again, she doubted it had truly been tested yet.
What to do? Stay silent, and wait for them to bash in the door? Or let them know she was here and safe, and see if she could hold them off? She was safe. They couldn’t claim to be rescuing her if she said she was okay. And she had rights. They couldn’t come busting in if she’d done nothing illegal. That was the law. This was the United States of America. The book clutched to her chest, she shouted in a sing-songy voice, “Who’s there?” “Police, open up.” “Police?” she echoed. “I didn’t call the police.” “Open the door.” She peered through the peephole. “No. How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” A very authentic-looking badge appeared in front of the peephole. “Open the door.” “Yeah, well, everything is fine. I didn’t call the police and I don’t need rescuing. What do you want?” “We just want to talk to you, make sure you’re okay.” “I’m fine. I swear. What makes you think I’m not?” She glanced out the window. When she caught sight of a policeman staring at her through the window, she waved him away, motioning around the empty room. What did they think was going on? The knocking on her front door resumed. “Miss Dunning? I need you to open the door. Miss Dunning!” She looked outside again. There were several police and fire vehicles parked out front. Fuck. She wasn’t going to talk her way out of a search. Not a chance. Having no clue what to do next, she sat in a chair beside the front door and, blurting responses to the man outside, started skimming the final chapter of Xander and Bastien’s book again. It began where they’d returned to her home, precisely chronicling the events that had occurred up to this point. Cool! Maybe it would be as simple as reading the story and doing what it said. After all, everyone knew romances always ended with a happily-ever-after, whatever that might be for the characters. The shouting stopped. Silence. That couldn’t be good. She frantically tried to concentrate on the words on the page but it was really hard, knowing that most likely within seconds a crowd would come barreling through the door, guns pointed at her. Read! Concentrate! Shit, shit, shit! There was no other way. She would lose Bastien and Xander forever, but at least the portal would be secured for now. She ran to the kitchen, threw the book in the sink, wadded several newspapers around it, and lit the match. Her heart ached as she watched the flame slowly work its way down the strip of cardboard. Could she do it? Could she sacrifice her life for the welfare of Alyria and the Twelfth Knights? Would she die if the book burned up? Oh hell! Did she have any choice? At least they’d all be safe. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
A shot rang through the silence. Time’s up. She leapt to her feet, and after scooping up a handful of newspapers, raced to the kitchen. She dropped the book in the sink, balled up the papers and then fumbled through the drawer for the matches. Her hands trembled as she struck the match. She hesitated for a second, the wavering flame dancing in front of her. This could very well be the end of her life, or at least the end of her life with Xander and Bastien. Her heart hurt. Her belly twisted into a tight knot. Eyes burning, she released the match, whispering one word, “Freedom.” A split second later, about the time she expected to drop dead from magic, the rending of wood signaled the arrival of her unwelcome guests. Heavy footsteps pounded through the living room. A couple armed men rounded the corner and leveled their weapons on her. One of them pointed at the smoke billowing from the sink. “Fire!” Instinctively, Maggie dropped to the floor. A cop leapt over her and cranked on the water, dousing the flame, then caught her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. “This way, Miss Dunning.” So much for her fears of instantaneous death. Screaming her objections at the top of her lungs, she dug in her heels, fighting the cop’s effort to remove her from her home. “You have no right! I’ve done nothing wrong! What do you think you’re doing? Get your hands off me! Ouch! You’re hurting me!” But she knew enough to recognize when the battle had been lost. Defeated, and scared, she threw up the virtual white flag and surrendered, allowing the cop to escort her outside, her eyes searching the crowd for Xander, Bastien or even Kieran. Where were they? Had the fire sent them back to Alyria? Was the portal closed? Suddenly lacking the strength to remain standing, she sank to the snow-covered ground and hid her face in her hands. She was so caught up in tangled and confusing emotions, she barely noticed when someone draped a heavy wool blanket over her shoulders. All around her, chaos continued, while she sat alone, blindly staring at the snow. She’d thought all this time, since Jack had died, she’d put it behind her -- the pain of her past. That she’d taken a hold of her life, that Jack couldn’t hurt her anymore. But now, sitting there, her insides aching, she knew she’d been fooling herself. Even six feet below, he could hurt her. Or more specifically, the fears and insecurities he’d branded into her soul had hurt her. By making it impossible for her to accept a life in Alyria. Would she ever completely heal? She swept her gaze across the crowd, not expecting to see her Masters. Once the book had started burning, she’d sensed a separation from them. They were gone, and she missed them, the way they looked at her, touched her, the way she felt when she was with them. If only things could have been different. If only she’d had more time. Or their world hadn’t demanded her complete submission. She simply wasn’t capable of that yet. As she feared, the life she’d been so contented with seemed bleak and empty to her now. Knowing the joy that came from having two wonderful, powerful, sexy and amazing men love her -- oh yes, she had no doubt they loved her -- meant the loss was absolute agony.
She closed her eyes. Years ago, there’d been only one way to deal with pain this excruciating. Cut herself off from it, from all emotion. She visualized the pain, a whirling ball of sapphire flame. And then she imagined herself retreating into the secret place, dark and safe, her sanctuary where the flames couldn’t reach her. “Why couldn’t you stay here with me? In this world?” she muttered aloud. “Let me learn to love and trust at my own pace?” “Excuse me, Miss Dunning?” a familiar voice whispered. The blue ball flared, searing her insides. Xander? She opened her eyes and she swallowed a sob, pressing her hands over her mouth. Xander. Bastien. They were both dressed in firemen’s uniforms. Both smiling. “It’s safe to return to your home now.” Bastien helped her to her feet. She briefly wondered if they remembered her, or whether they’d forgotten everything when the book burned. But then Xander pulled the mask off his face and leaned closer. “This is your story now. Your happily-ever-after.” She wrapped her arms around the waists of her Dynamic Duo and, tears flowing freely, thanked them. For although they hadn’t said a word about Kieran or Alyria, she had no doubt they’d faced a difficult choice as well, a decision that had most likely forced them to sacrifice something important. “Just tell me Alyria is okay. That nothing is going to happen to your world.” “Hey,” Bastien said, his eyes glittering as he swept her into a tight embrace. “It wouldn’t be a happily-ever-after if it wasn’t.” “Kieran’s back where he should be. Bastien ‘borrowed’ these uniforms. Because we were dressed like the others, no one stopped to question us. We escorted Kieran back through the portal and finished destroying the book. The danger’s over. For now. Then again,” Xander added, pressing into her from behind, “Who’s to say what’s going to happen when it opens for the next bride. We have at least a few weeks before the next full moon. Bastien and I have some work to do -- to make sure the next pair of knights who pass through the portal are safe. But we don’t have to get started until tomorrow. So, how about we go take advantage of the free time?” “What about the claiming?” Her knees buckling, she let Xander sweep her into his arms. She hooked an arm around his neck. Safe. Cherished. Adored. By two powerful yet kind and gentle lovers. Xander carted her past the police cars, fire trucks and curious onlookers, into the building. “There’s no need to complete the claiming here, in your world. Only in Alyria. And we’ll only go back if you decide you want to.” Once inside her cozy little apartment, her sanctuary, the Dynamic Duo fixed the door, then proceeded to show her precisely how happily-ever-after they intended to make the rest of her life, in Michigan or Alyria. Tomorrow, she decided, she’d head to the bookstore to buy another copy of their story, Conquered by the Knight. She had an inkling how this story was going to end, but she couldn’t wait to read it and find out if she was right. Turn the page for some great bonus content, including a sneak preview of WRATH’S EMBRACE, the first book in Tawny’s popular Masters of Sin series and DARKEST FIRE, the first book in Tawny’s new Black Gryffon series.
An Excerpt From: WRATH’S EMBRACE Copyright © TAWNY TAYLOR, 2009 All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc. She was perfect. Their Gina. His Gina. Soft and submissive. And yet strong. The goddess had been more than kind to bring such a beautiful woman into their lives. A blessing. Their blessing. Now that she was here, and he had touched her, Magus couldn’t stand the thought of being away from her. Not for a minute, let alone an hour or a day. The fact that she subdued the beast within him was only part of the reason why he hungered for her so badly. She was simply too delectable, standing like this, submitting to his will, letting him touch her, explore her, discover all the wonderful surprises her body held for him. Her face was that of an angel’s. Pretty, in a very sweet way. But her body was made for sin.
With every miniscule glance, she sent simmering blood pounding through his chest. With every tremble and sigh, she sent that heat churning harder, faster. Magus’ hands burned with the need to explore every inch of her body. His lips and tongue with the need to taste her. His nose with the need to draw in that glorious scent, of woman’s sweet arousal. Even now, when they’d barely touched her, that smell hung heavy in the air. Intoxicating. Addictive. “Safe.” Magus bent to nuzzle the crook of her neck, and she eased her head to the side to allow him access. “Safe,” she repeated, her small voice quavering slightly. “Yes.” He inhaled. Ah, heaven. She smelled so delectable, fresh and delicious like ripe berries dipped in honey. Unable to stop himself, he pulled her tightly against him, releasing her hands so there wouldn’t be anything between his body and hers. Her soft derriere, barely covered by that scrap of worn material, pillowed his lengthening cock. His tongue darted out, flicking over her skin, welcoming the first taste. Delicious. He wanted more. He took more. More tastes. More flicks, nips. Sucks. Meanwhile, his hand slipped lower, down over her mound to the hot juncture of her thighs. When Cyr groaned, the pounding heat in Magus’ body flared. Nearly blind with need now, he caught the front of Cyr’s clothing and yanked until Gina was trapped between them. He lifted his head, staring at Cyr’s mouth, and pleaded, “Kiss me now.” Cyr obliged, slanting his mouth over Magus’, tongue slipping inside. Magus’ mouth filled with Cyr’s decadent flavor, a taste he craved constantly. Magus moaned into their joined mouths and stroked his tongue along Cyr’s, losing himself in the pleasure of the kiss, this wonderful moment. For the first time in hundreds of years, there was no anger. No rage to taint the pleasure. Only need. Desire. Profound wanting. Between them, Gina whimpered. He rubbed her pussy through her damp shorts and rocked his hips back and forth, desperate to grind away the ache pounding down the length of his cock. If only he could strip away her clothes right now and sink into her slick depth. He knew it would be incredible. Better than it had ever been. Soon, he told himself. Not yet. The wait would be worth every second of agony he had endured over the centuries. “I need you,” Cyr murmured, echoing Magus’ need. “Me too. But I don’t want to leave,” Magus answered. ***** Turn the page for a special sneak preview of DARKEST FIRE, the first book in Tawny Taylor’s new Black Gryffon series. Available March 29, 2011
An Excerpt From: DARKEST FIRE Copyright © TAWNY TAYLOR, 2010 All Rights Reserved, Kensington Publishing Corp. Chapter 1 Sin in stilettos hunted him. In Drago Alexandre’s lifetime, lust had worn many masks--fair and sweet, dark and exotic, male, and female--but whatever form it took, it always, without fail, seized its prey. There was no escape. Yet, like the quail in Drako’s favorite sutta, The Hawk, Drako knew he would eventually break free from the predator’s grip...and shatter its heart. Tonight, the hunting ground was one Drako’s favorite haunts and lust was a redhead, in an itty bitty fuck-me dress, her mile-long legs bared to there, her full tits a sigh away from tumbling out of her dress, and a dozen erotic promises glittering in her eyes. She didn’t know it yet, but the hunter would soon be the hunted. Drako acknowledged her with a hard, piercing stare. In response, lush lips pursed in a seductive pout. Yes, he’d have this one. But on his terms. Let the games begin. Eyes on the prize, expression guarded to keep her guessing, Drako tipped his beer back, pulling a mouthful of bitter ale from the bottle. As he swallowed, the heavy bass of the music thrummed through his body, pounding along nerves pulled tight with erotic need. Red and blue lights blinked on and off, casting everybody in the nightclub, male and female, in an alternating crimson and deep indigo glow.
Her gaze shifted. His body tightened. Oh, yeah. He liked this place. A lot. He slowly swept the crowded room again with his eyes. Writhing, sweaty bodies, mostly female, packed the small dance floor. Groups of people crowded around tables, the flickering red tips of their burning cigarettes dancing in the shadows. “I’ve got the redhead,” he announced. “That’s just as well.” His brother, Talen, set his empty glass on the bar’s polished top and shoved his fingers through his spiked, platinum hair. “I’m not in the mood for this tonight.” “Not in the mood? Are you kidding me? Look around, baby brother.” Sitting on the other side of Drako, Malek, shot Talen a bewildered glance. About a dozen women gaped as his shaggy blond surfer-punk waves danced on a breeze. Drako slid his quarry a heated glance then twisted to flag down the bartender. “Yeah, well, if you spent half as much time working as you do playing, Malek, we’d–” “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before, big brother.” Malek ordered another beer for Drako then clapped him on the shoulder. “But like I say, life is short. You gotta live while you can.” He slipped from the stool, peeled off a twenty and handed it to the bartender. “Do either of you have a bad feeling about tomorrow’s meeting with the old man...?” Malek stood a little taller, tipped up his chin. “Ohhhh, yes. Talk to you later.” Not waiting for them to answer his earlier question, he headed toward the nearest flock of admirers. “I think I’m calling it a night.” Talen said, watching Malek gather a small herd of women around him. “Okay, bro. See you at home.” Drako checked his redhead again. She was still sitting at the table with her friend, but she was looking a little less certain of herself now. One hand was wrapped around a wineglass, the other nervously tugged at a lock of hair. That was better. An aggressive woman did nothing for him. Letting the corners of his mouth curl slightly, he lifted his fresh beer to his mouth and waited for their gazes to meet again. Uh huh. Much, much better. He held her gaze and everyone and everything else in the crowded bar seemed to slowly drift away, until nobody but his redhead existed to him. Electricity sizzled between their bodies, like heat lightning arcing between storm clouds. Her tongue darted out, swept across her plump lip then slipped back inside. She set her glass down and, breaking eye contact, leaned over to her friend sitting next to her. They both glanced his way. The friend smiled and nodded, and then the pair of them stood. Their arms linked at the elbow, their gazes flitting back and forth between him and the back of the bar, they hurried in the opposite direction, toward the bathroom. That was an interesting reaction. Nothing like what he’d expected. Was she playing him? Were they both? Mmmm. Both. Maybe he’d have two women tonight. Two was always better than one.
He dropped a fifty on the bar. And with his beer clutched in one fist, he walked around the far side of the room, taking the scenic route to the dark corridor at the rear. He’d catch them out there, where it was quieter, more intimate. His timing was perfect. Just as he rounded the corner, they clacked out of the bathroom on a breeze of sweetly-perfumed air. They halted instantly, eyes widening, one pair a soft grey-blue, the other a deep brown. Up close, the redhead lost a little of her charm. It was her friend who demanded his attention now. Her features were different, her almond-shaped eyes tipped up at the outer corners, the un-creased eyelids hinting at her Asian ancestry. Her full lips were plump and freshly coated in shimmering gloss. Her carefully applied makeup emphasized a set of picture-perfect cheekbones, and her slightly mussed hairstyle lengthened a slender neck, a tumble of silky blue-black waves cascading over her shoulders. He’d seen her before. Where? “Hi,” the redhead said, her voice a deep and sultry siren’s call. He turned toward her again, catching, once more, the sensual promise glimmering in her cool blue gaze. Despite the invitation he read on her face–-or maybe because of it–-he found himself tiring of her already. His attention snapped back to the quiet woman next to him. An old David Bowie song echoed in his head, China Girl. “I know this is the world’s worst line, but don’t I know you from somewhere?” “I’m not sure.” His China Girl stared at the tattoo on his neck, following the curved line up to his jaw. “I think I recognize the tattoo.” “My brothers and I have the identical design, a griffin. It’s kind of a family thing. Our mother did the work.” “Your mother? How interesting.” The redhead inched closer to get a better look, or so he assumed. “It’s very sexy. I’m not crazy about tattoos, at least not most of the ones I’ve seen. This one’s very different. All black, and grey and sorta...what’s the word I’m looking for?” “Celtic?” The brunette offered. That brunette was spot on. Their mother had been one hundred percent Irish. There could never be any doubt, with her mane of copper colored hair and freckles. And the design she’d created for her three sons was as Irish as her maiden name, O’Sullivan. The redhead scowled. “No, that’s not it. I mean, yeah, it is Celtic, but that’s not what I’m trying to say. Men with tattoos are a little...dangerous.” “Wicked.” Something darkened the brunette’s expression. “Yes, wicked.” The redhead’s white teeth sank into her lower lip. “That’s a good word.” Yeah, that was a good word. He was feeling a little wicked something going on. And he could tell at least one woman was feeling it too. “Can I buy you ladies a drink?” “Actually,” The brunette shot the redhead a nervous glance, “we were getting ready to leave–” “But one more drink wouldn’t hurt,” the redhead finished, slanting a smile his way. “Thank you. By the way, my name’s Andi and this is Rin.” “Good to meet you, Andi and Rin. I’m Drako. Let’s go see if we can find a table.” He motioned for them to precede him out of the dark corridor. He followed them back
into the crowded heat of the bar. As they shuffled and wound their way through the throng, his gaze meandered down the back of Rin’s body, from the bouncing curls that tumbled down her back to a nicely-rounded ass hugged in a snug black skirt. When she stopped to let a couple pass by, he leaned over her shoulder and whispered, “Maybe we can figure out where we’ve seen each other before.” A delicate fragrance drifted to his nose. Jasmine. It was refreshing, compared to the cloying blend of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne hanging heavy in the air and making his nose burn. “Sure. Maybe.” She hurried around a couple clawing at each other like bears in heat. He smiled at her expression as she shuffled past them, her lips parting, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Damn this was a hot place, in more ways than one. It sure put him in the mood to fuck, with all the gyrating bodies and hard, thumping music. A song he recognized started playing, a slow, sexy number, and taking advantage of the moment, he caught Rin’s slender wrist. She glanced over her shoulder. “Dance with me.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, just tugged her gently until her body was flush with his. He looped one arm around her back, splaying his fingers over the base of her spine. He felt her stiffen against him then relax. She was petite, the top of her head hitting his chest at about nipple level. He liked how small and fragile she felt in his arms, how her little body fit against his. And how she worked those hips of hers. Damn. Sparks of erotic hunger zapped and sizzled through his body with every sway. He tucked his leg between hers and rocked his hips from side to side, melting at the feeling of her hips working perfectly with his. Her feminine curves conformed to his hard angles as she pressed tighter against him. He cupped her chin and lifted, coaxing her to look at him, to let him see that beautiful face, to maybe taste her lush mouth. A second female body crowded against him from behind. A woman’s hands glided down his tight thighs. Breasts flattened against his back. Within a second, his prick was hard enough to bust through brick, his balls tight, his blood burning like acid. Rin’s eyes lifted to his, and her lips parted in a natural pout, so different from the practiced expression her friend had donned for him. That was it; he had to kiss her. He tipped his head, his entire body tight and hard and ready. But just before his mouth claimed hers, she lurched away. He opened his eyes to catch the redhead slipping into her place as the music changed. He twisted to find his delicate Rin, but she’d disappeared into the crowd. “She’s my friend,” Andi shouted over the music as she undulated against him. “I won’t say anything bad about her. But she’s just not into this. She’s so shy. Sorry.” She smoothed her hands up his torso. He was sorry too. There was something about her. A quiet sensuality that didn’t need to be forced. He hadn’t been that intrigued by a woman in a long time. “No need to apologize for her.” “I’m guessing you like your women a little less aggressive?” “Yeah.”
“Got it.” Her expression softened. “If you want to be the predator, I can be the prey. Let’s play.” Giggling, Andi slipped out of his arms and dashed into the crowd. Now this was getting interesting. Rin all but forgotten, he set out to hunt down his redheaded quarry in the black fuck-me dress. Hunter. Prey. It looked like both of them would get what they were after tonight. ***** About Tawny Taylor Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor’s life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip -- a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide -- or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn’t travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She’s not even built like a runway model. She’s just your run-of-the-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife. That’s why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn’t need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some… zip. Her heroines might resemble herself, or her next door neighbor (sorry, Sue), but they are sure to be memorable (she hopes!). And her heroes -- inspired by movie stars, her favorite television actors or her husband -- are fully capable of delivering one hot happily-ever-after after another. Combined, the characters and plots she weaves bring countless hours of enjoyment to Tawny… and she hopes to readers too! In the end, that’s all the matters to Tawny, bringing a little bit of zip to someone else’s life. You can email Tawny at
[email protected] or visit her website at www.tawnytaylor.com
Tawny Taylor Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor’s life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip -- a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide -- or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn’t travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She’s not even built like a runway model. She’s just your run-of-the-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife. That’s why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn’t need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some… zip. Her heroines might resemble herself, or her next door neighbor (sorry Sue), but they are sure to be memorable (she hopes!). And her heroes--inspired by movie stars, her favorite television actors or her husband--are fully capable of delivering one hot happilyever-after after another. Combined, the characters and plots she weaves bring countless hours of enjoyment to Tawny… and she hopes to readers too!
In the end, that’s all the matters to Tawny, bringing a little bit of zip to someone else’s life. To see what Tawny’s up to you can always check out her website at www.tawnytaylor.com. And she loves hearing from readers!! Drop her a note anytime!
[email protected] 
