MOONLIGHT MONSTERS & MAGIC
A Paranormal Romance
Sexy Shorts Collection
Everleigh Allen
Zara M Baily
Emma Brady
Lucinda Cox
Linda G. Hill
Allegra Johnson
Elizabeth Langley
Belle Langtree
Chele MacCabe
Taylor Morgan
Sera Taíno
Tabetha Waite
Emmaline Warden
EOT Publications
Copyright
MOONLIGHT, MONSTERS & MAGIC, A Paranormal Romance Sexy Shorts Collection
Copyright 2018 by EOT Publications. All stories within are copyright of their respective authors. All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from the authors except for a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The authors acknowledge the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
WARNING DISCLAIMER: This Collection is suited for Adults 18+ only. Stories contain sexual situations and adult language. All characters depicted are of legal age.
Publisher: EOT Publications
Editors: Penlight Editing and Gray Plume Editorial Services
Cover design: MerryBookRound
Table of Contents
MOONLIGHT MONSTERS & MAGIC
Copyright
Table of Contents
Introduction
DIWATA
LOVE OUT OF THE ASHES
HONEY AND HER GRUMPY BEAR
SWAN SONG
HEART OF STONE
THE SECRETS OF HICKORY HOLLOW
LEAVING LIMBO
THE DOCTOR AND THE WOLF
WHITE
FORTUNE FAVORS THE FELINE
MISS CARLISLE
SAVING FAITH
PIXIE
Acknowledgments
Introduction
What is it about autumn and paranormal romance? As our nights grow longer and our days colder, our bodies seek rest. When we rest, we reflect. When we reflect, we often delve into the depths of our psyches that society hasn’t allowed us to explore openly. Paranormal romance gives us permission to be scared or courageous, to rage against inequalities or revel in kindness. It also lets us dream: of magic, of fated mates, of harsh realities that disappear, and of love that surpasses all hate. In a nutshell, it gives us hope. That’s why I’ll always recommend romance novels, especially paranormal romance novels.
This collection of short stories has been published by the same team that brought you Shamrocks, Shillelaghs, and Shenanigans. Here, we have shifters, curses, lovers, magical creatures, witches, goddesses, and angels. No vampires though—not this time. Our authors have crossed all boundaries of time to bring you stories that will delight you, scare you, make you cry, and give you hope.
I want to thank all the authors who contributed their stories, and I wish them many years of successful writing. Thank you to our publisher, Maida Malby, whose love of romance is infectious—I wish I had her library. Thank you to my co-editors: Linda Hill of Penlight Editing, and Raine Lam. I couldn’t have done this without you. Your support and late-night GIFs are everything.
Most of all, thank you, dear readers. Happy reading.
Milly Bellegris
Gray Plume Editorial Services
www.grayplumeediting.com
DIWATA
Zara M Baily
With his life at stake, Comandante Julio Gomez arrives in the Philippines, hoping to reverse a century-old curse that a mountain nymph placed on his ancestor. Julio doesn’t expect to meet the woman from his troubled dreams.
A woman whose fate is intrinsically linked with his. For in her hands lies his salvation ...
Or his eternal damnation.
(m/f; heat level: smoking)
DIWATA
Chapter One
The mist came out of nowhere. Thin and wispy in the beginning, the condensation soon turned into fog, shrouding the forest known as Bundok Lambana—Nymph’s Mountain. One moment it was high noon, a split-second later it turned to dusk. Blind to everything but the arms-length of space in front of him, Julio stood still. He summoned his military training to take over, heightening his other senses. For the moment, he didn’t perceive any danger.
Alongside the haze came quiet. No wind. No tinkling of the stream he’d been following for the past hour. It wasn’t raining, though moisture sluiced over his face, dampening his day’s growth of beard and raising goosebumps on his arms. He tried to regulate his breathing, but his heartbeat started to race. She’s coming.
The strong fragrance of sampaguita wafted through the air before the gray mantle parted and there she stood, an apparition forming out of vapor before his eyes. Long, abundant hair he could only liken to the sky on a moonless night framed a heart-shaped face. Silky clothing floated around a shapely body, hiding and at once hinting at the generous curves underneath. The rise and fall of her chest as she breathed were his only indication that she was flesh and blood. A woman. An incredibly desirable one.
With her presence, the forest came to life. A wild hog snorted, frogs croaked, and the nearby spring gurgled as water began to flow again. Dark clouds moved to reveal the moon, low in the sky, shining full and bright. It illuminated her skin, as brown as the ground on which he stood. Big black eyes regarded him seriously.
Her voice, when she spoke, was hushed, but he heard it clearly. “You’re here. I’ve been waiting for you.” She beckoned with a delicate hand. “Come.”
Without a second thought, Julio followed her floating figure until she came to a stop at the bank of the stream. A waterfall cascaded over a high cliff before them.
Her back to him, the nymph swept the airy garment off her body. His pulse, already rapid with her anticipated arrival, hammered within his ribs. He willed her to turn, even though he enjoyed looking at her round backside. She obliged, as if reading his mind. Grace imbued every motion as she moved her head, her shoulders, and her chest around. His gaze lingered on her breasts; his mouth watered at the beauty of female flesh, displayed for his enjoyment. By the time she fully faced him, his erection throbbed within his pants.
A small smile playing about her lips, she looked him up and down. With a wave of her hand, a gust of wind removed his shirt from his torso. Another puff, and his pants fell off his hips. A third left him naked. His cock stood proudly, pointing straight at her.
“Come closer. Lie down with me,” she said, moving to kneel by his feet, her dress a white blanket over the short grass.
Although more used to giving orders than following them, Julio did as he was told. A mix of awe and desire rendered him mute, acquiescent to her every demand. That this fantastic being appeared to want him as much as he did her, dazzled his mind. He lay on his back and she rose above him, positioning her opening above his hardness.
“What you’ve desired for more than a hundred years, I give you tonight,” she chanted as her softness engulfed his rigid manhood.
He groaned at the liquid heat of her where they joined. Raising his hips, he met her, stroke for stroke.
“Moments of bliss, quicksilver pleasure ...” she whispered close to his mouth, her move
ments gaining speed.
He writhed on the ground, nearing completion; his flesh swelled as her narrow channel squeezed him, milked him. Grunts and growls left his throat, the animal in him unleashed by her sorcery.
“This flare of passion is all you will have. Take it now, for it will be your last.” In a flash of lightning, she vanished.
Shuddering, he released his seed into the air until he was spent. He couldn’t control it. He was too far gone.
¿Que mierda pasó? What just happened? Breathing heavily, he sat up to scan the forest for any sign of the enchantress.
“You seek me. Here I am,” a voice rang out from beside the waterfall. The lady of Mount Lambana was again draped in the white material they lay on just a few minutes ago. Her face serious, lips thinned, this wasn’t the same woman who’d wrung the climax from him.
Julio jumped to his feet and entered the stream, not bothering to don his clothes.
“Maria, yo soy—”
She raised an imperious hand. “I know why you came, Spaniard. Prove your worth to erase the past. Until then, the curse holds fast.” Thunder boomed before she disappeared again.
Bile filled his throat. He tasted the bitterness of it in his mouth. Defeat bowed his head, encased his feet in concrete.
He had to move. The offensive smell of sulfur pervaded the air. It came from what was minutes ago a waterfall. Thick smoke billowed from the same direction. His legs, which were cold when he came into the stream previously filled with water, now burned. Dense mud bubbled beneath him as it sucked him down. Helpless, he gave in to his fate.
He was going to die.
She had killed him.
“Diculpame, madre. I failed.” Julio uttered his final despairing words before the boiling mud swallowed him whole.
~~ * * * ~~
Julio bolted upright in his rented bed, drenched in sweat. Alive, unburned. He leaned back on the headboard and sighed. “Bienvenido a las Filipinas.” Welcome to the land of my death.
Chapter Two
“Good morning, Señor Gomez. Your guide is here,” the hotel receptionist informed Julio the second he answered the phone with a terse, “Hola.” He had given her the instruction to call him when he was on his way up to his room after having breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant.
Julio didn’t expect the Filipino historical expert he hired to guide him to the peak of Mount Lambana to arrive early. The people of his country’s former colony had a reputation for tardiness. It was a reassuring sign that the university instructor didn’t practice the mañana habit, a dubious inheritance from the Spanish conquistadors.
“I’ll be down shortly. Muchas gracias.”
Unable to return to sleep after his nightmare, Julio had exercised in his room, then he’d packed for his day trip to the highest peak of the famous mountain in this university town in Laguna. He was ready.
He shouldered his backpack and took the stairs two at a time, eager to start his day, intending to climb Peak 2 before noon. The last thing he wanted was to replicate the scenario in his dream by going later in the day.
Julio reached the first floor and scanned the lobby for somebody who matched the picture he’d received a week ago, of Dr. Jose Manlapaz. The additional descriptions of black hair, black eyes, and brown skin fit all the men in the room, but none of them was his guide.
Puzzled, he approached the front desk. “Perdón, señorita ... Excuse me, miss. You told me my guide is here. Can you please point out Dr. Manlapaz to me?”
“Huh? Professor Manlapaz, the expert on Maria Lambana? She’s right behind you.” Humor sparkled in the girl’s eyes as she pursed her lips and jerked her chin toward the direction of his back.
She? Eyebrows drawn together, he turned to confront the woman he did not hire to be his guide.
He paled, reeling at the sight of Dr. Manlapaz.
Lustrous black hair tied in a high ponytail. Big black eyes framed by square eyeglasses. Light brown skin, the color of the soil before a rain shower made it wet and turned it to clay.
Before it turned into mud.
Before it killed him.
Before she killed him.
The black hair, black eyes, and brown skin he sought belonged to a woman who looked exactly like the enchantress from his nightmare.
“Maria,” he rasped out.
“Please call me Dian, Comandante Gomez. Maria is my great-grandmother,” she said, holding out a delicate hand in greeting.
Julio shook it, responding to her in Spanish. The jolt of their first contact nearly made him jump. He dropped her hand as if it burned him. Her sharp intake of breath and wide eyes indicated a corresponding response.
A question from the receptionist distracted her, giving him a chance to observe Dr. Dian Manlapaz. He looked down, but not too far. She was only a head shorter than him, a further similarity with the enchantress. But the firm handshake was all too human, and one of the reasons he didn’t run away. Another was the dimple on her right cheek. The lady of the forest hadn’t had that dent; her face had been flawless.
The woman in front of him had a mole above her upper lip. Creases at the side of her eyes and mouth showed her inclination to laughter and the luminous glow of her skin proved she enjoyed spending time outdoors. Her clothing, like his, was appropriate for the weather and the hike ahead: she wore a loose sweat-wicking shirt, cargo pants, and sturdy shoes. She held a baseball cap loosely in her left hand.
Gracias a Dios, she wasn’t barefoot. Wasn’t nearly naked. As long as he kept his polla in his pants, he’d probably live another day. Maybe.
When his gaze returned to her face, he found an eyebrow raised. His lips curved. “Lo siento, Dian, for staring too long. I only wanted to make sure you were a different person from the one I initially thought you were. Please, call me Julio.” He gestured with his hand for her to precede him. “Shall we go?” Past time they got going. Even at seven in the morning, the sun was already high, and the temperature neared thirty degrees Celsius.
Dian nodded, tucking her ponytail inside the cap she held before stepping out into the bright sunshine.
Julio faltered in his step. When she raised her arms, the shirt tightened over her chest, outlining her curves and shaping her ample breasts into two mouthwatering handfuls. Smart and sexy. His kind of woman.
Mierda! I’m in trouble, he thought, following her out.
Chapter Three
Dian glanced at the taciturn man walking beside her on the narrow path. Comandante Gomez was more attractive than she’d expected. His erect posture and proud bearing declared his military occupation. Not to mention the fit body his loose clothing couldn’t hide. His brief touch had sent a sizzling sensation up her arm straight to her nipples. When he spoke, his accent just about melted her panties. Moisture filled her mouth when he said, “Mucho gusto,” to her introduction. She spoke Spanish fluently, but she doubted her words evoked the intense awareness his did in her.
She had been nervous about meeting him, she’d thought he’d be angry about the change of guides. He wasn’t. But then, they hadn’t spoken about it. Yet.
Clearing her throat, she turned to him. “Julio, I apologize for the switch. My father broke an ankle while playing basketball with his friends last night. By the time he told me to take over, it was past midnight and I didn’t want to disturb your rest. I know long flights can be exhausting.”
He muttered under his breath before shaking his head and flashing a tight smile at her—a mere show of teeth. “Está bien. I would have welcomed your call. In fact, if you had waited until three in the morning to call, you would have saved my life.”
Dian stumbled at his words. She’d have fallen if he hadn’t reached out a hand to steady her. When he inclined his head and moved aside to let other hikers to pass, she followed.
“What do you mean?” Heart beating in her throat, she waited for the answer she already knew.
“Last night, in my dreams, I died.”
He was wrong. She wouldn
’t have saved him. “In your dreams, I killed you.”
His eyes, as gray as the clouds before it rained, widened at her blunt statement. “A nymph who resembles you. The lady of the forest.”
So that was what had caused the long scrutiny. He’d catalogued the differences. “Maria Lambana,” she whispered. “I was named after her. Maria Dian.”
“You dream, too?”
“Every night since you called my father.”
“Did you tell him?”
“I didn’t have to. Ama already knew. He also knows who you are and why you’re here. My father is a direct descendant of Pedro Santos. On the day of my birth, an old lady came to our house. She told him I am destined to either free someone from a curse or cause their death.”
“Did she say when it will happen?”
“Yes. Do you know?”
“Si, from my dreams. Today. Víspera de Todos los Santos.”
“October 31st. Exactly one hundred twenty years since your ancestor Comandante Antonio Gomez was cursed by Maria Lambana.”
They stood staring at each other, the heavy weight of knowledge between them. Dian broke contact first. “Let’s go. The peak is still an hour’s hike from here.”
Silence hung over them as they walked; their steps took on an urgency that wasn’t there when they began the trek. The path to the summit was clear and well-trodden. He could have gone alone, but she knew why he needed her.
Her father hadn’t really broken an ankle, and even if he had, he was the town albularyo—the medicine man. He could heal himself.
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