Fleeting Passions: Forbidden Passions, Book 3

by Crystal Jordan

  “Spare tire, Cyn. Put it on and get the hell to Vegas.” Popping my trunk, I—What the hell?—Where were the jack and tire iron? I had forgotten to check for them in this car when I bought it from the used car dealership last week. Now that I needed ’em, they were nowhere to be found. Fan-damn-tastic. Time to call in reinforcements.

  I opened the passenger door and fished around for my cell phone. Please, please, please let me have cell phone service. I was in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, not daring to look. My breath whooshed out when I saw I had full bars. I pulled in a deep breath while I dialed my roadside assistance number. The number was programmed into my phone, just in case. You never knew when a Rambo-wannabe jackrabbit would hang on to your bumper and use his last breath to shred your tire. Fucking bunny.

  I punched in all the appropriate numbers and listened to a recorded voice tell me to call 911 if it was a life threatening emergency. Well, duh. “Hello? I have a flat tire, and I need someone to come put on my spare—”

  The woman dispatcher’s professionally concerned voice cut me off. “Okay, ma’am. Are you in a safe area?”

  I looked around at the miles and miles of dirt. “I’m kind of in the middle of nowhere, but I guess I’m safe.”

  “Good. Now where are you exactly?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m eastbound on I-15 about a hundred miles west of Las Vegas. I don’t see a call box or any mile markers.”

  “So, you’re east of Las Vegas—”

  “No, I’m west of Vegas going east toward Vegas.” I rolled my eyes.

  “What city did you just pass?”

  Did I just speak English? I swear I’d told this woman I had no idea where I was. I was worried about Desi, not about where I might pop a tire. “I’m not sure. I know I’m about a hundred miles west of Vegas.”

  “All right, ma’am. We’ll dispatch someone, and they should be there in about twenty to thirty minutes.”

  “Thank you!” I could be with Desi soon, then. I shivered as the cold desert night air hit my bare shoulders and legs. Hurrying back to the driver’s side, I slid into my seat.

  Twenty minutes later, my phone rang. Oh, good. Must be the tow truck driver.

  “Hello?”

  An older female voice responded, “Hi, Ms. Trent. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to dispatch anyone until we know your location. Can you tell me exactly where you are?”

  I blinked. “Um. I already told the last lady I talked to.”

  “Can you tell me again?”

  Okay, stay calm. I’d only been on the side of the road for about half an hour. Everything was fine. “Sure. I’m not one hundred percent sure of where I am, but I’m eastbound on I-15 about a hundred miles west of Las Vegas.”

  “Are there any mile makers nearby?”

  “No.” And I sure as hell wouldn’t wander around in the frigid ass desert to look for one.

  She was silent for a long moment. “Um. All right, ma’am. We’ll dispatch someone, and they should be there in about twenty to thirty minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” I sighed and dropped the phone on my lap.

  Twenty minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  A pleasant male voice answered. “Hi, Ms. Trent. I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to dispatch anyone until we know your location. Can you tell me exactly where you are?”

  Her destiny—destroy the world. Whether she wants to or not.

  Calling the Wild

  © 2009 Lila Dubois

  Moira doesn’t know who’s hunting her, but she knows why. In her youth she unleashed a deadly force that killed everything within range—a strange power she has vowed never to use again.

  Needing protection, she risks a bit of the old magic to call for backup. She gets more than she asks for. A lot more. A proud, sexually magnetic, enraged centaur who’s far from a quiet, obedient servant.

  Kiron at first tries to intimidate the witch into freeing him, but she possesses more backbone than the average human. When she’s attacked again, he realizes she’s not a real witch. In fact, she’s not even human. And the sparks flying between them have nothing to do with the magical shackles that bind them together.

  Curiosity grows to admiration, then to a love that in the end may not be enough to protect her. Moira’s enemies are closing in, intending to harness her power to restore a dark kingdom that has lain dormant for a thousand years.

  There’s only one, heart-wrenching way out—give herself over to the full extent of her powers hoping that her true destiny lies with Kiron, and not in fulfilling a prophecy of death…

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Calling the Wild:

  Kiron traced his fingers over the cut. “Who did this?”

  “I did. I let it happen.”

  “Why?”

  “I needed information and paid in blood.”

  “That is dangerous.”

  “Everything about my life is dangerous.”

  Kiron bent low to examine her, his thumb tracing over line of the cut. Within the confines of her corset, Moira’s nipple beaded.

  “We need to leave,” she whispered.

  Though it was true that they needed to get away from the club, Moira was using it as an excuse. Away from the pulsing lights and music, what they’d done seemed like a terrible idea. She didn’t know enough about centaurs to know if it has meant anything to him. She had some vague memories from Greek art and archaeology classes that the centaurs were known for their lust. Lust for drink, lust for battle and lust for women. If that meant that what had happened inside meant nothing to him, she would deal with it. What would be a problem, would be if she let what happened mean too much to her.

  “Open the back,” he said, stepping away from her. Her breast felt cold without his fingers.

  “Why? You can ride in the cab.”

  “I will not wear this weak human form any longer.” He stood back and spread his arms, lips pulled back in a sneer. Moira looked him over. He was tall as a human, over six feet. His upper body had the same muscular build, and his legs were thickly muscled also. She knew they were, because she could see the muscle definition in his thighs through his pants. Speaking of his pants… Moira looked him up and down.

  The hilarity of her mythical centaur dressed in black PVC pants and a poet shirt hit Moira.

  “Where did you get that outfit?” she asked on a giggle.

  “I watched a man come out of the club wearing this and replicated it. He also had on a long red coat, but it was too hot so I discarded it.”

  “Too bad about the coat. I would have paid good money to see you in it.”

  “I look stupid.”

  “No, I’m sure all the other badass centaurs wear frilly shirts.”

  “Are you laughing at me, witch?”

  “Laugh or cry, those are the options.”

  White sparks spilled over him, growing until he was concealed by a waterfall of white. The sparks dimmed and cleared, the few stragglers blown away by the breeze that danced through the parking lot.

  Kiron stood before her, a centaur once more. He even had the sword on his back.

  “Where did the sword go when you changed?”

  “I brought it into me, made it a piece of me.”

  “You can do that? How?”

  “I will show you when we get back to that messy place.”

  Moira swallowed her questions about his magic and moved to the back of the truck to open the door and pull down the ramp. Looking around nervously, she waited until the lot was clear and then waved him in.

  Kiron thundered up the ramp, the ring of his hooves on the metal ramp as loud as gunshots. Wincing, Moira slid the ramp into place and grabbed the door.

  Kiron had finished turning around, though this time she had no sympathy for his cramped posture as she knew he could make himself more comfortable.

  “Food,” he said unexpectedly.

  “What about it?” Moira jumped on the bumpe
r to grab the door.

  “I do not know how often humans need to eat, but I am hungry.”

  “Oh, right. Do you like burgers? Do you know what they are?”

  “Yes, I do like burgers. Order me four.”

  “Four burgers. Check.”

  Moira closed the other door and bolted it in place, before racing to the front of the van and hauling herself up into the cabin.

  With a final look at the club, she put the van in gear and pulled away.

  This time, the creature under the basement is real. And dead sexy.

  Phantom Desires

  © 2009 Bianca D’Arc

  Brotherhood of Blood, Book 3

  Computer expert Carly is tired, burned out and ready to downgrade her hectic lifestyle to something simpler. Her solution—pull up stakes and move to an old farm house in the middle of Wyoming. Her new house is full of old-time charm, and it comes with an unexpected surprise. Dmitri Belakov.

  Dmitri, a Master Vampire, had an agreement with the former owners of the house to let him live peacefully beneath it in his hidden lair. Now there’s a new owner, and he may have to risk revealing his presence to negotiate a new contract. He moves cautiously because if she won’t deal, he’ll have to kill her once she knows his secret. Carly’s mind is unusually hard to influence, but he makes inroads when she is asleep.

  Their shared dreams are more erotic than he ever expected, firing a hunger within him to know her feel and taste in the flesh. But doing so risks far too much. Even if Carly can’t deny the attraction arcing between them, loving him will force her to make a choice. An eternity in darkness with him—or life in the sun without him.

  This book has been previously published and has been substantially revised and expanded from its original release.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Phantom Desires:

  On Friday night, after sleeping undisturbed for a week, a vivid dream once again assailed her. She was in a bedroom filled with lit candles, the spicy aroma of scented wax wafting sensually throughout the room. A strange man leaned over her naked body, caressing her with his eyes, followed by his strong, masculine hands.

  “Bella, your skin is like warm satin.” His words whispered over her, thick with an accent she couldn’t place.

  The stranger was handsome. Perhaps the most handsome man she had ever seen, but she knew this more from impressions than any real vision of his face. It was nighttime in the dream and shadows from the tiny flickering flames played about his angular features like a lover’s touch.

  He had a foreign air about him, from the cut of his shadowy hair to the thickness of his accented whisper. He watched her with a fiery hunger, and he was one with the darkness. Strangely, he seemed to know her, though she’d never seen him before in her life. She would have remembered him. Of that she was sure.

  “Carmelita Valandro, you are a siren sent to tempt me.” His whispers worked their way down her spine as his breath licked over her skin. He knew her full name. Nobody called her that anymore. How did he know?

  “Your body is ripe and womanly, made to take mine.” He praised her as his fingers delved between her legs, touching, torturing with pleasure. His lips moved down her body with leisurely deliberation, his teeth dragging at her skin, making her shiver with excitement. Slowly he repositioned her limbs, settling like a master between her legs, gazing his fill at her swollen folds as his hands drew nearer to her core, spreading her open for his touch.

  His fingers were blunt tipped, long and thick. One speared into her, drawing a cry from her lips in the dream. She was ready for him and the feeling of his possession was like nothing she’d ever felt before. He knew her body and just how to play it. Like a master violinist with a Stradivarius.

  He added another finger, twisting his hand like a corkscrew, using the blunt tips to arouse places within her she hadn’t known existed. She whimpered in the dream, wanting more. He chuckled—a dark sound in the haze of the dreamplane.

  “So responsive.” His voice dripped with approval and made her even hotter. “I’m going to enjoy fucking you, Carmelita.”

  His harsh words made her jump. Dirty talk had never been this exciting, but this stranger made her want…so much.

  “I will fuck you until you scream, little one. Then I will drink of you and fill you with my seed.”

  She could picture it as his fingers danced within her, stoking an intense fire in her body. She wanted it. She wanted to be possessed—fucked, as he so crudely put it—by this man, this shadow in the night.

  “But first I want to taste you. I bet you’re as sweet as cream and twice as addictive.” His face loomed closer out of the darkness. A devilish smile graced his masculine lips and a sparkle twinkled in his dark eyes as he removed his fingers. She wanted to protest, but he moved closer, stilling her with his strong hands.

  Leaning forward into the V of her legs, he gave her the most intimate kiss of all. His hot tongue slid inside her, a warm, wet invasion. Nothing had ever felt so good before. She convulsed in the dream and in reality with a gasping cry.

  Shocked to wakefulness by a burst of pleasure so intense she’d never experienced anything like it in real life, Carly remembered the moment his tongue had touched her. The shock of it still coursed through her. It was familiar, yet as foreign as he was.

  The feel of that unprecedented dream haunted her all day as she went about her chores, shopping, cleaning and putting the old farmhouse to rights. It puzzled her, excited her and heated her blood. But it made no sense.

  Carly had been fondled by men before. She’d dated more than a few men in her life, but she had never once felt the instant flame of response her dream man had elicited. The echoes of the dream made her feel empty and that bothered her. Those few moments of dreamtime made her ache with longing for something she doubted she would ever find in the real world.

  And it was just pitiful that the most exciting her love life had been lately were some vivid dreams. She was fast approaching spinsterhood, with no social life to speak of, but a very healthy bank balance due to her own hard work. She’d needed a change and moving out here to the middle of nowhere was the first step.

  She could write the custom code for her computer software anywhere, so why not the wilds of Wyoming? She had a contract with one of the colleges near Laramie and a sturdy SUV to get her there when it snowed. She’d bought the old farmhouse on a whim, but it suited her.

  She had her work and lots of quiet and open spaces in which to do it. She had her friends too. Earlier this year, she’d gone to Lissa’s wedding in California. Her old college friend had found a hunk of a man who owned a vineyard and together they seemed happier than anyone had a right to be. The old study group had stayed close all these years and she spoke on the phone with Kelly and Lissa often, now that Kelly had gone to work for Lissa and her new husband at their vineyard.

  Work kept Carly busy, even on this isolated job. Once a week or so, she would meet with staff at the college. She also had to go down to the campus more frequently to test, observe and fix any glitches that came up. It was a challenging job and one she enjoyed.

  Up until a few months ago, she would have been overseeing several of these installations at once. Now she was delegating the other installations and overseeing just this one, which was the most complex her little company had on the table.

  Professor Dmitri Belakov watched the small woman race from her car. The sky had darkened sufficiently but still held that just-after-sunset glow he loved. Dmitri had checked the installation schedule and knew tonight the young computer programmer would be performing a key part of the installation process that would take her most of the night. It was his perfect opportunity.

  First, he would teach his evening course in history, then casually drop by the administration building where his office was located. It was also where the sexy woman would be working, probably until dawn. He would meet her then.

  She would never know he had been watching her in her new home for weeks, bidin
g his time for the opportunity to meet her legitimately and put her under his spell. If such a thing was possible. This woman seemed to be immune from his more subtle abilities to an almost alarming degree. She had even caught him as he watched her sleep that first night. It was all he could do to overpower her strong mind and lull her back into a dreamless sleep.

  She also had the disturbing ability to see him in her dreams. Several times, he had found his consciousness seduced into her dream. Each time, he was able to extricate himself only after some difficulty, leaving her none the wiser.

  Except that one time.

  In that particularly hot dream they had shared, he’d pushed her too far. He had wanted so badly to taste her—even if it was only in a dream. He’d brought her to a screaming orgasm with surprisingly little effort. The wave of pleasure had jolted her out of the dream before he could pull back and mask his presence. She had seen him that night, without a doubt.

  But she was so sweet. He wanted to taste her in truth and perhaps he would, but first he had to work on seducing her mind.

  Fleeting Passions

  Crystal Jordan

  Love is the only thing she can’t escape…

  Forbidden Passions, Book 3

  Ecstatic that she’s found a place to hide—and a job—at Refuge Resort, Cleo Nemean toasts her escape a few too many times and ends up having a one-night stand with a seriously hot leopard shifter. The catch? It’s Adrian Leonidas, her new boss…and they accidentally mark each other as mates.

  Nothing could be worse than losing her hard-won freedom. Until her werebear ex, Trevor, tracks her down. His obsession has already cost one life. Determined to never again be the cause of another death—especially Adrian’s—she flees the safety of the refuge. And her new mate’s protection.