Outer Banks (28 page)

“Uh, yeah.” I appreciated the change of subject.

“I think I would like Texas.” She smiled at me sweetly. Hinting. Hoping.

“Emery, all I have is a tiny house and a garage business. I can't buy you a second house in the mountains, and a third by the beach.”

“I don't really care for the beach anymore,” she said. “The salty air doesn't do it for me.”

“You don't belong with me, Em.”

“Isn't that for me to decide? Who do you think I belong with?” she asked, genuinely curious. She crossed her arms in front of her in a way that told me I was not going to win this argument. “No, wait, let me get this straight. When we were nearly a different species that was okay with you, you could accept me then, but now
social status
makes us incompatible?” Her brows were creased again. “I don't need anyone to take care of me, Dillon. What I need is someone to love me unconditionally. And you do.”

A smile began to creep across my face. “Are you not going to take no for an answer?”

“Do I ever?”

I shook my head in happy defeat.

“Emery, I love you.” I stepped closer and put my hand on her cheek. “I love you so much. I'm sorry. I should have stayed and fought for you.”

“You didn't need to fight for me, Dillon. There was no one but you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, I took Emery in my arms and kissed her—holding her the way I wish I had been able to every single day since I'd left the cabin.

“IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou,” I muttered against her lips. “I'm going to tell you every day until I die.”

She wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me closer as I clenched my fingers in her soft, shiny hair. “About damn time.”

Emery and I found each other during humanity's darkest hour—not from what the invaders had done to our species, but what we had almost done to ourselves.

We had survived.

We would make it through anything.

About the Author

One very early morning, Anson Barber woke up with a conversation going on in her head. It wasn't so much a dream as being forced awake by her imagination. Unable to go back to sleep, she gave in, went to the computer, and began writing. Years later it still hasn't stopped.

Anson lives near Hershey, Pennsylvania. Her contemporary romances include paranormal, sci-fi, fantasy, and mystery suspense. She enjoys candy immensely, as well as long motorcycle rides, running and reading.

Visit her at
www.ansonbarber.com

Or on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/Anson.Barber3

Twitter
@AnsonBarber

They want to save the world — starting with each other.

A Hero for the Empire

© 2014 Christina Westcott

The Dragon's Bidding, Book 1

Commander Kimber FitzWarren is running on borrowed time. The cybernetic augmentations that give her superhuman strength and speed have also shortened her life. The success of her next mission is imperative, not only to save her Empire, but because this operation could be her last.

She and a cabal of other idealistic officers are plotting to topple the corrupt Imperial government. The key to placing missing military legend Arianne Ransahov on the throne lies with the one man who can find her, mercenary Wolf Youngblood.

Having just survived an Imperial assassination attempt, Wolf is understandably on edge when Fitz shows up in his bedroom at 0-dark-30. Except she isn't there to kill him, but to plead for his help. Help he's reluctant to give—until another assassin pushes the issue.

Pursued by Imperial forces, left with no one to depend on but each other, a bond begins to form that even their secrets can't destroy. But before they can explore what's left of their future, they have to survive the mission.

Warning: Space is no place to go it alone. We recommend taking along a telepathic cat, an immortal mercenary, and a cybernetically augmented Imperial SpecOps agent. You never know what kind of trouble you'll run into…

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Hero for the Empire:

By the time Youngblood contacted her, the nightly thunderstorm pounded Ishtok Base, so her guards conducted her through the maze of tunnels beneath the quadrangle to join him at the Officers' Club.

He sat at a rear table, the wall at his back, and looked up from his dessert, gesturing for her to join him. “What would you like, Commander?”

She wrenched the chair back from the table and dropped into it. “First, I want my spike…”

“I mean, what do you want to drink? A beer? A piece of cake, perhaps?”

“A beer's fine, but…”

He ignored her and waved over a waiter.

The dissonance of music and laughter, counterpointed by the clink of glasses, felt familiar to Fitz. No one partied as hard as soldiers. Living on the edge of death did that to a person, even, apparently, cats. Jumper faced a pair of scowling soldiers across a gametable and reached to pull the pot to his side. What did merc cats spend their winnings on—catnip shots?

“This could be an O-club on any Imperial installation,” she said. “I didn't expect a mercenary company…”

“To behave like humans? We don't spend all our time between contracts getting drunk, belching and farting.”

“There is this general perception of mercenaries.”

“Is that the same one that says all augies are soulless killing machines?”

She winced. “Touché.”

After the waiter delivered their drinks, Fitz picked up her chair and slid it around to sit next to Youngblood. She smiled at his sharp look. “I don't like sitting with my back to a roomful of armed strangers.”

Beneath his uniform, he wore a tight black turtle neck that looked like a powersuit's armorcloth underwear. She reached toward it. “Is that…?”

His hand clamped around hers before she realized he'd moved.

“I wasn't going to throttle you, just wanted to see if that was…”

“Body armor? Of course, someone is trying to kill me.”

His grip slackened, but he didn't release her fingers. She studied his face, finding no trace of the morning's coldness in his eyes. Under his intense gaze, she shifted in her chair. “Can I have my hand back?”

He released her fingers, returning his attention to his dessert. They sat in a strained silence for some time before he extracted a small silver box from his pocket.

“Perhaps your story does check out,” he said. “You were appointed Triumvir Kiernan's Shadow ten years ago and since then, you've won the Distinguished Service Star, the Dragon's Choice—with two clusters—and the Harriman Cross. Rather impressive. I can understand why Kiernan fought so hard to keep you on his staff when all the augies were recalled to DIS headquarters.”

“How the hell did you get that information?”

“I know a very talented hacker.” He pushed the datachip case across the table. “These contain all the information I could gather on Baldark—the system coordinates and the location of Deva-Lorza's research station. Ari spent a lot of time there as a child, so I suggest that would be an excellent place to start your search.”

“But what if she's moved on? It's not like I can go to the nearest computer terminal and look up her address. It's a class three pre-industrial culture. For Yig's sake, they're still using sticks and edged weapons.” Fitz finally gave voice to her deepest worry. “She might not even still be alive.”

Youngblood smiled. “Trust me, she's alive.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I just know.” He stared at his plate, pushing the last few crumps of cake around.

“That still doesn't help me locate her.”

“All you need to do is ping the locater beacon on her spike.”

“Ari Ransahov doesn't have a spike.”

“Yes, she does.” A smug smile twisted his lips.

“CyberOps didn't come into being until 836. Ransahov had been missing almost a decade by that time.”

“Nevertheless, they'd already begun experimentation.” He stopped to take a drag on his beer. “You did know she lost an eye?”

“Of course, racing flyers when she was a teen. I read all three of her biographies.”

Youngblood snorted. “I guess that sounds better than losing it in drunken brawl at Padraic's Tavern. She had a standard ocular prosthesis, but when it malfunctioned, she elected to get a few enhancements. Telescopic, infrared and night vision, along with an implanted transceiver. No physical enhancements like you have, of course, and only her closest friends knew. Ari liked the advantage it gave her. It added to her mystique of having preternatural abilities. I've included the ID number and frequency. All you'll have to do is set up a search grid from orbit and wait for a hit. Shouldn't take long, since it will be the only technology on the planet.”

He picked up the tiny datachip case and tucked it into her shirt pocket. “Plus, you'll have the added advantage of not having to put up with me on the trip.”

Fitz always worked solo, with only the disembodied voice of her ship's avatar accompanying her. The option he offered was the best possible outcome. So why wasn't she happy? The
Elizabeth Angstrom
's crew quarters were too small for a couple who didn't have a personal relationship. The two of them would be at each other's throats for the entire voyage. Or in each other's beds.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

“Youngblood, she knows you. There's a better chance she'll listen to you instead of someone she's never met.”

“I have faith in your powers of persuasion, FitzWarren.” He stood, signaling the meeting's end. “Why don't you stay here tonight? You might want to take advantage of our hospitality. You won't find many hot showers or soft beds on Baldark, and the cuisine there leaves something to be desired. You can depart in the morning.”

She followed him outside, her organic eyes slow to adjust to the lower light levels in the corridor.

“Are you going to walk back to headquarters?”

“Of course, why shouldn't I?” He gestured for her to follow.

“That body armor won't help you if an assassin goes for a head shot.” She reached up and tapped her finger on his forehead.

He pushed her hand away. “FitzWarren, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. I don't need your help.”

Maybe he did. He didn't seem to be taking this assassination attempt seriously, but she had the information she needed and would be leaving tomorrow. It wouldn't matter anymore, would it?
Except that it did matter, dammit
.
It mattered a lot. When had she lost her objectivity about this man?

They reached the HQ building without incident. When the lift arrived at the third floor, the door whisked open to reveal an empty corridor.

“What? No guards?” Fitz felt the brush of his hand on the small of her back as she preceded him out of the elevator.

“Do I need to post guards?”

“I might try to escape.”

“I don't think so.”

She stopped in front of her door. “What if I slipped out and snuck into some place…secret or private?”

“Then I'd just have to restrain you like I did last time.” Amusement gleamed in his eyes.

Fitz shifted her weight, to ease the stiffness in her legs, and a sharp jolt of pain lanced through her knees. She staggered.

He studied her. “Your legs are bothering you.”

“Yeah, and I can't access my pharmacopeia's pain killers without my spike.”

He didn't take the hint.

“You've been augmented quite a few years.”

“Twenty-three, but you know that. You read my file.”

“The operational life expectancy of an augie is about twenty-five years.”

“Trying to figure out how long I have left? Two years.” She held up a pair of fingers and wiggled them. “So you can understand why it's so important to get things right on this mission. It might be my last, and I'd have a better chance of pulling it off if you came with me.”

“I've told you, the rules won't allow that. A mercenary can't do anything without a contract.”

“It's always about the rules with you, isn't it? Is this against the rules?” An edgy spark quickened her pulse and sent her up on her toes to claim his mouth.

His only answer was to deepen the kiss, threading his hands through her hair to press her closer.

His hunger for one woman will make him a traitor to his world.

Unending Desire

© 2011 Tina Donahue

Outlawed Realm, Book 1

From a portal in his lab on E2, one of the five dimensions of Earth, quantum physicist Nikoli Zorr gazes on everything forbidden to him. Passion. Desire. The exquisite pleasure of running his hands over the lush curves of a young woman he should have stopped watching weeks ago.

His duty is to close the portals that keep the monsters out of E2—and never interfere with the inevitable fate of those on the other side. Yet he can't bring himself to abandon the woman who has captured his soul.

Psychologist Regina Page is trying to keep her mind on her client, and off the mysterious, unbearable sexual cravings that consume her when she's alone in her bedroom. The next moment she's attacked by vampires, then swept into another realm by a stranger whose touch awakens that same raw desire. Whose eyes are already filled with farewell.

Yet beneath their undeniable carnal lust, something else stirs. The beginnings of illicit love. The unexpected need to protect
him
. Even if it means risking body, blood and soul to defeat the merciless horde…for a future that was never meant to be.

Warning: Contains a repressed scientist who likes to look, and the woman who delights in unleashing his inner caveman. And sex hot enough burn a hole in all three dimensions…and maybe create a whole new one.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Unending Desire:

Nikoli glanced at Regina's hand, chiding himself for having followed her here, for wanting to be near her before Sazaar arrived. A foolhardy act that wouldn't change anything. It wasn't as though he could tell Regina what to expect. A horror she wouldn't believe until it unfolded before her.

Fearful of behaving inappropriately, of running her off and losing his only chance to be this close, Nikoli lifted his hand. After weeks of fantasizing about touching her, he cautioned himself to temper his reaction.

The warning did little good.

Longing he'd never experienced stole his breath as he clasped her exquisitely soft fingers, his thumb stroking hers.

Lids sliding down, Regina parted her lips on a quiet sigh. Color rose to her cheeks, the same as it had this morning in her bath when he'd watched her, hungering to touch and taste every inch of her flesh. To smell it. A pleasure unknown in his dimension.

On E2, sterile air replaced all fragrances, a matter deemed necessary to keep the populace disease-free. Here, the scent of food, drink and muggy rain bombarded Nikoli. Even so, it wasn't enough to keep him from catching Regina's fragrance. Light and faintly sweet, it reminded him of what her people called vanilla and peaches.

Blood rushed to his groin, pooling in his cock. Another word from her realm. A language Nikoli had learned over the years as he'd monitored the spontaneously occurring portals, never realizing he'd someday cross through one he had created into a dimension more electrifying than he could have ever imagined.

Time passed more swiftly here than it did on his plane. As people moved about, their bodies seemed to blur. The vibrant colors dazzled when compared to his realm's somber hues, making Nikoli slightly dizzy, the same as touching her.

“Regina,” he repeated, enjoying the sound of her name. He glanced at her fiery red hair, gold earrings—the color of stars on his side—soft gray sweater and black pants.

Gently, she squeezed his hand, her expression soft with arousal. “And you are?”

There was no need to lie. Tonight would be their only time together. Tomorrow, Regina would be safe, and he would surely be dead. Even if he escaped harm from Sazaar, Andris and the others, death awaited him on his return to E2. Fear or sorrow should have overwhelmed Nikoli. Instead, gratitude for this small slice of time, this moment of unrestricted joy, quickened his answer. “Nikoli Zorr.”

Regina moved her lips as though testing his name. Her resultant smile said she liked it. “Nikoli.” Her iris's green tint was darker now, lushly verdant in the room's scant light. She studied his features. “It sounds Russian. Were you born there?”

Prepared for her questions, he continued to lie. “My parents emigrated from a small isolated village in Romania. They brought me over when I was twelve. I'm afraid our accent is quite unique.”

“It fits you,” she said. “Do you work here?” She glimpsed at his shoulders. “Are you on your way home?”

“Sir?”

Nikoli glanced over at the young woman who had waited on him. She regarded Regina's hand in his, then flashed him a hungry smile.

Unmoved by her seduction, growing cautious, he said, “Yes?”

“You forgot your change.” She rested a series of bills and circular coins near his cup, then regarded him, her expression expectant.

Nikoli wasn't certain how to respond. Of the currency he'd stolen, he hadn't known how much to offer for the drink. Overwhelmed at seeing Regina, at being close enough to hear her speak, he'd watched her hand over a bill for her order but hadn't noticed if she'd received anything back.

“Thank you,” he said.

Brows drawn together, the girl glanced at the bills.

Nikoli sensed she wanted them back. Why, he didn't know. Taking a chance, he slid the one on top toward her to see what would happen.

“Thank
you,”
she said, pocketing it. Ponytail swinging, she hurried back to her station.

“Wow. You're a good tipper,” Regina said, arching one brow.

Nikoli wasn't certain what she meant. His only answer was the truth. “I wanted her to leave.” He smiled. “It was the only way I knew to get rid of her.”

Regina laughed.

The carefree, tinkling sound stroked Nikoli's soul. With great care, he squeezed her fingers.

Regina's expression grew distracted, her smile fading as she glanced at their hands, her fingers hugging his. Not caring if he acted recklessly, Nikoli held on to her for a few seconds more.

After he released her, Regina wrapped her fingers around her cup. She asked again, “Do you work in this building?”

“On the third floor,” he offered, lying easily, giving her the name of one of the companies he'd passed on the way down here.

Nodding, Regina captured a bit of the drink's whipped cream on her fingertip, then brought it to her mouth, licking it off.

The back of his neck tingled.

“Do you own the company?” she asked.

His attention remained on her mouth, the promise of its wet heat beyond her plump bottom lip. He imagined his tongue stroking her lips, parting them, seeking entrance. Once claimed, he pictured Regina offering even more of herself. On her knees, she'd take his cock into her velvety palms, lifting it to her mouth, drawing it inside, providing shelter, elation, completion. Sounding distracted, he said, “Yes.”

“What business are you in, Nikoli?”

The shameless images in his mind evaporated with her question. Stalling for an answer, his knowledge of this realm, he peeled off the white circular cover on the top of his cup and placed it to the side. A word popped in his mind, one he'd seen quite a few times on this plane. “Consulting.”

“On what?”

His pulse pounded. He thought back to things he'd seen here. “Computer software designs.”

Regina's quick nod told Nikoli he hadn't said anything strange.

She smiled. “My system could certainly use some expert help. Carly's always complaining about how we need to move my accounting and other files into the twenty-first century. Sad to say, I've let her whine without really doing anything to fix the problem. I figured she could just live with it since she's my only employee, kind of a combination bookkeeper-receptionist-secretary. But hey, if you know software, maybe you can give me a couple of tips on what I need to do.”

Sweat trickled down Nikoli's back. He had no idea what to suggest. The systems on this side were centuries behind the advancements on his. “Of course, but I generally work with large firms with hundreds of employees.” To take the focus off himself, he asked, “What business are you in, Regina?”

“I'm a psychologist.” She ran her fingertip over the food she'd been eating. Small, delicate flakes fell from it onto the countertop. “I deal with anxiety disorders.”

He offered a nod of encouragement. “I admire anyone who helps others with their problems. Your work must be very rewarding.”

Appreciation for his comment radiated from her. “I certainly try to help all that I can. Unfortunately, I'm not always successful.”

He thought of Sazaar and was careful to keep himself from sounding worried. “It's understandable that some can't be helped.”

Regina offered a rueful smile. “I'll have to remember that when I'm feeling badly about a failure. Now that I know you work here, perhaps I can ask you for a pep talk from time to time.”

He spoke without thinking. “A pep talk?”

“A word of support,” she amended.

“Of course.” With his full attention on her, he spoke from the heart, offering a future they didn't have. “Always.”

A soft heat emanated from her, the kind a woman on this side showed when she wanted a man. “Are you on your way home, Nikoli?”

Surprised at her question, not knowing why she asked, he shook his head.

She glanced at his coat, confusion sparking in her expression as though she'd expected him to leave.

“There's a matter I have to attend to,” he said, being deliberately vague, “but I still have work to do and planned to return shortly.”

Naked pleasure shone on her face.

It pleased him as nothing else ever had. “Are you going home?” he asked.

“I have one last patient in a few minutes.” She nibbled on the edge of her food, then returned it to the white square it had rested on—what her people called a napkin. Brushing crumbs from the side of her mouth, she said, “The appointment will be over in an hour. If you don't have to work past seven fifteen or so, would you care to have dinner with me?” She lowered her hand to the table, waiting for his answer.

His mouth had already gone dry. Her words rang in his mind.

I have one last patient.

Sazaar. For weeks, he'd watched his mate arrive at Regina's office, then struggle to disclose her abominable secrets. Thus far, Sazaar hadn't revealed anything about Andris and the others. Tonight, she would. Nikoli sensed it. Feared it.

Once Regina learned what no human was meant to know, Sazaar would destroy her. She'd have no other choice.