Dragon Moon

by Unknown

  “I know,” Kenna answered. “But how could they do it?”

  “We could feel that they were up to something, but we didn’t know what it was. We tried to stop them, but we couldn’t do it.” She gulped. “They were prepared to die to accomplish their goal.”

  Kenna started running to the mouth of the cave. As soon as she saw the men who had tried to kill her, she gasped. They were all lying on the ground, their faces contorted in pain, their bodies unmoving.

  She dragged in a breath and let it out. “I guess that was Vandar’s final plan to get me, if all else failed.”

  “Yeah, like the talisman,” Talon answered. He reached for her again and clasped her to him, and she swayed in his arms as the extent of Vandar’s hatred sank in.

  Finally, she said, “We still have to get the rest of the slaves out of the cave.”

  “But you don’t have to do it personally,” Griffin answered. “I’ll have my men go in there.”

  Talon looked glad to hear the suggestion.

  But Kenna felt her chest tighten. “The slaves will think they’re Vandar’s soldiers.”

  “Not for long,” Talon muttered. Unable to leave it at that, he bent toward her and added, “Do you think you could stay out of danger for a little while? For me?”

  Catching the deep emotion in his voice, she took a moment to steady herself. “Yes. For you.”

  “Then let’s go home.”

  “Home?” She gave him a long look. “You mean, to your world?”

  His gaze stayed fixed on her. “I hope you want to go there with me.”

  “Gods, yes.” She swallowed. “But I’d like my parents to know I’m okay.”

  “We can send a messenger to Breezewood,” Griffin said. “Then, when the situation here has settled down, you can visit them in person.”

  “I’d be very grateful. Thank you so much,” Kenna said. “My father is Becker. He has a boot and sandal shop very close to the city gate. You don’t mind sending someone?”

  “Of course not. And when you come back, I suggest going through at the portal near Logan and Rinna’s house. If you travel to Sun Acres together, that will be safer. Then we can send you with a party to Breezewood.”

  “Thank you,” Kenna replied, overwhelmed at the way these people were willing to help her.

  As she looked around, she saw that everybody was finally starting to relax. And Talon looked eager to leave.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Very ready,” she answered. Finally, it was sinking in that she was free to do what she wanted.

  The Marshalls spent a few more minutes discussing the cleanup operation with Griffin, who was obviously an excellent administrator.

  Talon glanced toward the small cave that hid the portal. “Can we get back through?”

  “Rinna, Olivia, and Antonia already took the seal off,” Griffin answered.

  Kenna kicked up the blackened ground with one foot. “He could have sealed it from the other side, too,” she murmured. “Why did he let me back in?”

  Talon’s jaw tightened. “Arrogance, I assume. He was sure he could deal with a mere mortal like you. He was wrong.”

  “He could have dealt with me.” Kenna looked around at the people who had come through with her and the ones from her world who had joined them. “All of you made the difference. Thank you so much.”

  “He was a threat to all of us,” Ross answered, then added, “Ramsay Gallagher went back to our world while you were in the cave.”

  “This place disturbs him,” Kenna said. “He doesn’t like to think that he could have become like Vandar.” She looked at Talon, but he only gave her a small nod.

  “Renata explained that he’s the same being,” Griffin said. “That he was also in your universe where he’d lived for centuries.”

  “Yes. It’s a weird concept,” Kenna answered.

  They made plans to get together in the next month. After the men shook hands and the women embraced, the Marshalls and their mates started back to the portal.

  Once again, Kenna opened it, this time feeling a sense of wonder that she was leaving this place as a free woman.

  AFTER stepping through, Talon took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m always glad to get back from a trip.” He laughed. “Never more than today.”

  “Yeah,” Ross agreed.

  They all started down the hill to the lodge, but they had only covered a small part of the distance when Talon heard sounds coming from the forest.

  “Christ, now what?” he muttered.

  They all tensed when two police officers stepped into view.

  “Stop right there,” one of them called out.

  “What’s going on?” Ross asked in a low voice.

  “It’s the two cops who interviewed me about the money Mitch Sutton stole,” Talon said, also speaking so his voice wouldn’t carry. Kenna moved closer to him, and he knew a confrontation with the authorities was the last thing she wanted.

  “Let me handle this,” he said.

  “Okay,” Ross answered.

  Both officers stepped up to them, giving them a hard look.

  “Where have you been?” the one named Eckert asked.

  Talon didn’t miss a beat. “I’ve been teaching some of my family wilderness camping techniques.”

  The cop gave them all a long look, probably taking in their disheveled appearance. “Oh yeah, where’s your campsite?”

  “We don’t have one. We’ve been foraging and sleeping where we could.”

  “Did you see a guy around here acting suspicious?” Eckert asked. “He’s about five-eight. Dark hair. We didn’t get close enough to see his eye color. Dressed in a dark T-shirt and jeans.”

  “No.”

  “He was poking around the rocks up there in back of you. Then he disappeared. You’re sure you didn’t see him?”

  “Absolutely. We just got here.”

  “And what about a green streak of light in the sky a few nights ago. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No. Maybe it was kids setting off firecrackers?” Talon gestured toward the people with him. “I worked this gang pretty hard, and we’d like to get home and shower.”

  The cops looked at each other, then back at him. “You’ll be here if we need you?”

  “Unless I’m out on a trip.”

  Without waiting for permission, Talon stepped around them. The rest of the group followed.

  Beside him, Kenna breathed out a deep sigh. “Don’t we have to . . . respect them?” she whispered when they were fifty yards away.

  “In this world, they have to respect us.”

  The group walked into the lodge, where they repaired to different bedroom suites to clean up.

  A half hour later, when they were back in the living room, Ross said, “I have a contact who created an ID for Rinna. I can do the same for Kenna, if you want.”

  “I’d appreciate it.” Talon had been wondering how they were going to handle that.

  “I have a camera in my car. Let me take her picture.”

  They took some shots. When Ross showed them to Kenna, she marveled at the likeness.

  But it was clear everyone was anxious to leave. And Talon was anxious to have them out of the way. He had forged a relationship with his family, but it wasn’t something he could deal with on a daily basis.

  After another round of handshaking and hugging, the others finally left.

  Talon and Kenna stood on the porch, watching the last car pull away.

  “Alone at last,” he said, pulling his mate into a close embrace.

  She raised her face toward his. “I couldn’t have escaped from Vandar without you and your family.”

  “And the world would be in danger if you hadn’t told us his plans.” He cleared his throat. “What happened to Gallagher?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t sense him. And not because the life mates did anything to prevent it. I have the feeling he was injured worse than we realized, and he didn’t want
us to know it.”

  “Will he live?”

  “I hope so. But I think he may be . . . damaged.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That he may have lost some of his powers.” She looked up at Talon. “I know you didn’t like my bond with him, but it was only temporary. And it wasn’t . . . intimate in the way . . . we are.”

  “I saw you with him, and I wanted you all to myself.”

  “You have me.” She swallowed hard. “I know you thought I would never trust you.”

  “I didn’t understand what was wrong. Now I realize what you were going through.”

  “And you.”

  He lowered his head to hers for a long, passionate kiss.

  When he moved his lips back a few inches, they both dragged in several breaths.

  Smiling, he trailed his hands down to her ass so that he could press his erection to her middle.

  In answer, she swayed against him, and he gave her a wolfish grin. “You’re going to love playing down at the swimming hole in your birthday suit.”

  “My . . .” She stopped and grinned. “Okay, I get that.”

  “But not in broad daylight, of course.”

  “Nobody can see us inside your circle of pines,” she murmured.

  “That used to be my private space.”

  She looked uncertain. “Do you mind . . .”

  “Actually, I love sharing it with you. That and everything else I have.”

  “The most important thing is sharing yourself,” she whispered.

  “I’ve learned that. From you.”

  Linking his hand with hers, he led her down the steps and toward the private circle, loving this woman. And knowing that the life they would build together would be richer than he could ever have imagined.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from

  SKIN GAME

  BY AVA GRAY

  Available November 2009 from Berkley Sensation!

  KYRA HELD THE guy’s balls in the palm of her hand. Literally.

  Just for a second as she brushed by him, but it was enough. His eyes widened, and she knew he took the touch as a sign he’d get lucky after he won her last hundred bucks. The crumpled bill lay underneath his, weighted by a cube of pool chalk.

  Poor, stupid mark.

  She slid him a slow smile as she racked for their fourth and final contest. His friends stood with beers in their hands, half-smiling in anticipation of a sure thing. In a seedy place like this, they had only an old table with worn felt near the right corner, making it necessary to compensate. That wouldn’t slow her up this game, though.

  Her opponent had years of practice on this particular table. A scruffy, hard-drinking son of a bitch like him had no better skill, nothing else going for him. No, calling himself reigning champ at Suds Beer Factory defined him. She counted on that.

  Spinning her cue stick between her palms, she paused before taking the first shot. “You want to make this interesting?”

  Her voice had often been called throaty. Kyra sounded like she smoked unfiltered Camels and drank too many whiskey sours. In fact, she did neither. That was just one of nature’s cons, more flash for the package to distract people from what lay underneath.

  “Darlin’,” drawled one of the barflies, “it already is.”

  Now somebody would comment on the sweet curve of her ass or the way she filled out her jeans. Kyra managed not to roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. If she ever sunk so low that she needed a boost by picking up a man in a place like this, she hoped somebody would shoot her and put her out of her misery.

  The man she’d been reeling in for the past hour couldn’t resist asking, as she’d known he couldn’t. People were so damn predictable. “What’d you have in mind?”

  “Double or nothing.”

  “You don’t have the cash,” he scoffed.

  Her smile didn’t falter. “No, but I have a fully restored 1971 Mercury Marquis parked outside. It’s nice, fresh powder blue paint. You’d get a good chunk for it.”

  “That’s yours? Big ride for a little thing like you,” her opponent said. Chet, she thought his name was.

  For that comment alone she wanted to smash his nose through his forehead, but he’d feel the hit worse in his wallet. It wasn’t like he used his brain much, after all. Kyra made herself smile as she put her keys on top of the two bills.

  A stocky guy near the bar shook his head, a crop of coarse brown curls bristling from beneath his baseball cap. “Don’t take the lady’s ride. She probably has a gambling problem . . . Don’t know when to quit even when she can’t win.”

  “I never walk away from a bet.” She hadn’t affirmed what he’d said, but these yokels would never notice the difference. “What about you? Scared?” she mocked gently.

  Oh, that would never stand. As a chorus of ooohs arose from his friends, Chet shook his head. “It’s your funeral, lady. You’re on.”

  Finally. She never knew how long a boost would last, so she needed to get this game in the bag, or she really would lose her ride. Since the car was the only thing she owned, that would be catastrophic.

  Kyra broke then, a perfect scatter. The red three slipped into a pocket, deciding whether she’d shoot solids or stripes. Four more shots lined up for her, and she called them in a neutral tone.

  A con could go south pretty fast if she didn’t play it right. Chet might suspect he’d been hustled when she was done, but men seldom started a fight with “a little thing like her.” If they did, they found themselves unpleasantly surprised—after she tapped the toughest among them.

  Bank, carom, and suddenly she’d sunk half the balls on the table. Suds got really quiet and someone muttered, “I call lemonade.”

  “Yep,” another guy said. “She’s torching him.”

  If she hadn’t been worried about the clock running out, she might have stalled a shot and put a ball in jail just to let Chet use his cue, but she needed to wrap things up. She rounded the table, using his own skill against him. Kyra sank the next shot easily, as she knew everything about this game and this particular table. She didn’t bother with showy play; the point was to win, not to impress.

  The bar was dead quiet when she pointed to the far left pocket, called it, and banked the eight ball toward it. She narrowed her eyes as its roll slowed. She hadn’t noticed the faint wear near that pocket as well, but it didn’t matter. Chet had learned to compensate over long years of practice; thus, so had she.

  The black ball sank with a quiet plunk.

  “I believe that’s a dime in all,” she said with a smile. “Cash only.”

  A dime was a thousand bucks. Kyra knew pool hall slang because she’d worked this particular con a lot. Now it just remained to be seen whether he’d pay up politely.

  “You played me,” Chet growled.

  She pretended to misunderstand, opening her eyes wide. “So I did. I won, too.”

  This was the moment of truth. Most guys wouldn’t take a swing at her, no matter how mad they were. She’d run across some real sons of bitches in her travels, though. So Kyra braced herself.

  “Pay the lady,” came a low, rough voice from the back of the bar. “Unless you want people to call you a welsher.”

  With a muttered curse, Chet handed back all the money he’d won, plus a few hundred more. Kyra smiled, then claimed her keys and the last two bills beneath the chalk cube. She thumbed the white rabbit’s foot on her key chain, as she did after every successful con. Superstition had its place.

  “Table’s all yours, boys. Thanks for the fun!”

  Before the mood could turn from puzzled to hostile, she grabbed her denim bag and headed out. It was best to hop into the Marquis and hustle down the road. Nobody prevented her from pushing past the front door and into the humid kiss of Louisiana twilight. Wild jasmine growing on a broken-down fence scented the air.

  Kyra cast a look back at the timber road house. Places like this made up her bread and butter. So many suckers, so little time. She
loved the euphoria of getting away clean.

  Then she heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel behind her.

  Shit, she thought. I knew it was too good to be true.

  She picked up the pace to no avail. A hand on her arm spun her around, and she found herself craning her head back to see who had ahold of her. At five foot four, she was neither petite nor average, and he topped her by a foot. More interesting, he hadn’t been involved in the game.