by Siobhan Muir
Every joint ached and she had saddle sores from riding, but the bath had helped loosen them. Her hips complained about such treatment and she admitted it had been much too long since they’d had such exercise. That just means I need to have more sex. Sex with Brandon.
Her thoughts returned to him as she dressed in her dirty clothes. I definitely want more time with him. Since there wasn’t much likelihood of getting home the same way she came, she suspected she’d get her wish.
His generous care in the bath and after warmed her heart as she tied the sash around her surcoat over her dark undershirt. She didn’t have a brush to get the tangles out of her hair, but she braided it to keep it out of her eyes. She hoped she looked sufficiently female as she wrapped the cloth of her turban around her head and gathered up her small saddlebag. She liked Brandon, his intelligence and humor. And his laugh is frickin’ sexy. They’d had some scary moments, and some not-so-nice moments, but she respected the man for his abilities.
So we’re friends with benefits.
To be brutally honest, she didn’t know him well, but she liked what he’d shown her. Spending more time traveling with Brandon wouldn’t be a bad thing, especially here in Torhaine, or wherever they’d go next. And I want to show him my loving abilities.
Iliana scanned the room and wondered at the honesty of the staff at the inn. Grimacing, she dragged all of the heavy saddlebags of treasure into the wardrobe. Hopefully out of sight means out of mind. But Brandon might panic when his bags appeared to be missing. She initially looked for a piece of paper to leave him a note, but decided he might not be able to read it anyway. We speak a similar language, but writing is a whole different critter. Her stomach growled and she mulled the notion over in her mind, but rationalized she’d be back before he could worry long.
She made sure nothing looked like it had been left behind, tucked her belt pouch into her front pocket, and slung her saddlebag over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. She had the coins from Reichart’s people. I hope they can buy me a new wardrobe.
Iliana slipped through the inn’s common room and breathed a sigh of relief when she avoided the suspicious innkeeper’s scrutiny. The sooner she bought more suitable clothing the better her stay would be. The oppressive heat had let up with the progress of the sun across the sky and the streets filled with evening shoppers.
She perused the marketplace for clothes to differentiate her from the Knalish while still providing enough cover from the desert sun. The vendors eyed her with mistrust at first, but when she showed genuine interest in their wares, they jumped at the chance to delight her. She found a golden linen shirt and a creamy off-white surcoat embroidered with gold thread for a few coins from a chubby man with a handlebar mustache. I probably paid too much, but they’re worth the coin.
Another vendor sold tan and brown harem pants, loose-fitting in the legs for riding, but gathered at the ankles to keep them from flapping. Satisfied with her purchases, she tucked them in her saddlebag and wandered away from the wharf toward the eastern portion of the city. Hunger gnawed at her belly and she bought a meat pie, her mouth watering at the scents of curry and saffron.
Iliana paused just outside the gates as the setting sun painted the sands a deep salmon pink. A breeze danced on the sand, swirling it in a miniature dust devil. The sun on her back felt good, but not as good as knowing she’d survived the Karobis and all it threw at her. She smirked and brushed the crumbs from the meat pie off her hands.
You tried to kill me, but I managed to live through your gauntlet. It didn’t mean it wouldn’t get her at a later time, but she’d won this round. I don’t plan on traveling your sands again for a while.
She dropped the saddlebag at her feet and watched the dust devil dance in the fading sunlight. The changing colors made her smile and settled her soul. She might not know this world as well as the other, but for now she’d grabbed a measure of peace.
The breeze stiffened and the dust devil whirled closer to where she stood. The sounds of the city behind her faded a little as grains of sand stung her cheeks. Iliana squinted and blinked to keep the sand out of her eyes, but the wind strengthened. She brought her hands up to protect her eyes from the flying grains and staggered backward a few steps as the wind pushed against her.
At last, the wind died and the dust devil skittered away across the sunset-lit sands. She shook her head and snorted. Nice try, Karobis. I’m not that easily shaken.
She sighed and reached down for the saddlebag. When she couldn’t find it, she swung around, searching the sandy expanse. Her boot caught in the thick sand and she tumbled to her knees, scratching the exposed skin.
Exposed skin? She dropped her gaze to her body and froze. Instead of her black surcoat over matching harem pants and knee-high boots, she wore her wicking shorts, sweat-stained tanktop, and hiking boots over wool socks.
“What the hell?”
Iliana climbed to her feet, looking for anything to explain the drastic change in attire. She almost tripped over her nylon backpack resting in the sand and she gaped at it. Where the hell did that come from? Unease crawled up her throat and she swung her gaze to take in her environment.
The sun sank behind a range of mountains a few miles away, the blue shadows encroaching on her toes. The city of Ros Torach had disappeared and a parking lot full of cars and SUVs stretched out in front of her. Her own Jeep Cherokee sat parked not fifteen yards from where she stood and a large sign with the words “White Sands National Monument” rose out of the ground beside a split-rail fence marking a trailhead.
“Oh no.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists to make sure she wasn’t imagining the change. When she opened them again, the view remained the same, and her shoulders drooped. I’m back home.
Everything was gone. Brandon, Aristotle, Ros Torach, and the Karobis Desert. Somehow she’d stepped back across a dimensional doorway and returned to her own world.
“It’s where I’m supposed to be and what I know best.” The words echoed in the evening breeze, but they didn’t fill her with relief or joy. She dropped to her butt in the sand and draped her arms over her knees, shaking her head. She’d returned to the world she understood. This is good, right? She grimaced as Brandon’s face filled her mind’s eye and her heart ached a little. She’d kind of been hoping to stay with him. God, I hope Brandon doesn’t think I ran out and left him to his own devices. She had no way to tell him she’d simply gone back to her world, and she hadn’t left him a note.
A warm breeze with a hint of cool brought the scents of desert and hot oil from someone’s vehicle. Normal scents, things she’d experienced in her world. Unlike crossing dimensions.
She looked down at her backpack and sighed as her stomach sank. What if I imagined it all? Her heart growled at her mind for suggesting such a thing. It was real and I know it. But all the hard evidence around her supported fantasy.
Hey, at least I can now get to my commitments down in Australia. Perhaps the crew of the new movie she’d been contracted to make with Taggart Crowe still waited on her. I’m only a few days late.
But she didn’t want Taggart. I want Brandon and Aristotle.
The thought surprised her and the ache in her heart grew. She shook her head and clambered to her feet, stretching out her back as the breeze cooled more with the sinking sun. Fever dream or not, I’m not likely to see them again. Sorrow burrowed into her chest.
Iliana exhaled and pressed a hand to her gut as her stomach roiled. What’s wrong with me? She shook her head and dug through her backpack for her car keys. She found her cell phone and a water bottle with stale water in it. She threw her pack over her shoulders, ignoring her injured arm as she shuffled through the sand toward her car.
She stopped at the door of her Jeep and leaned her head against the warm metal. It’s good to be home. The words were the right ones, but her gut didn’t echo the sentiment. Part of her wanted to open her eyes and find she’d made a mistake. She wanted to turn around and see
Aristotle standing with one hind leg crooked up and resting. But when she looked to the west beyond the roof of her vehicle, more cars and blacktop met her gaze.
Iliana unlocked the door and climbed into the warm seat. She threw her pack in the back and started the Jeep. The AC blasted warm air in her face and she turned it off. She switched on the radio and rolled down the window, letting the night air cool the Jeep.
Her head spun for a moment and she leaned back against the headrest, her gaze sliding up through the sunroof. The stars come out in the velvety dark as if the world hadn’t shifted. She recognized the Big Dipper and Orion, stars she knew from growing up. This is where I belong and my own world. It still didn’t feel completely right. But it’s not what I really want.
She turned on her lights as she threw the jeep into gear. The tires crunched on the gravel as she pulled out of the parking lot and sped up the road toward the highway entrance. The NPR announcer reported the date of Sunday, May twenty first at six thirty in the evening.
Iliana blinked. Wait, May twenty-first? Her ever-practical mind reminded her she had just enough time to make the twelve hour drive to her apartment in Hollywood, pack and catch a taxi to the airport to catch her late morning flight to Sydney, Australia. Her mind went back over all the sunrises she’d seen. Eight days should have passed. Maybe it was a fever dream.
She shook her head. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. She tried to be happy she’d gotten back to her Jeep in time, but her gut still cramped with the assertion something was wrong. No, I’m fine. I’m home.
The blacktop stretched into the eternity of twilight and she switched the radio to a music station. Iliana straightened her shoulders for the long drive and set her mind ahead, ignoring the feeling she’d lost something important.
THE END
About Siobhan Muir
Siobhan Muir lives in Cheyenne, Wyoming, with her husband, two daughters, and a vegetarian cat she swears is a shape-shifter, though he’s never shifted when she can see him. When not writing, she can be found looking down a microscope at fossil fox teeth, pursuing her other love, paleontology. An avid reader of science fiction/fantasy, her husband gave her a paranormal romance for Christmas one year, and she was hooked for good.
In previous lives, Siobhan has been an actor at the Colorado Renaissance Festival, a field geologist in the Aleutian Islands, and restored inter-planetary imagery at the USGS. She’s hiked to the top of Mount St. Helens and to the bottom of Meteor Crater.
Siobhan writes kick-ass adventure with hot sex for men and women to enjoy. She believes in happily ever after, redemption, and communication, all of which you will find in her paranormal romance stories.
Connect with Siobhan online at:
http://siobhanmuir.com
http://www.facebook.com/siobhan.muir.35
http://www.tsu.co/SiobhanMuir
http://twitter.com/SiobhanMuir
http://siobhanmuir.blogspot.com
http://pinterest.com/siobhanmuir.35
Other Books by Siobhan Muir
Her Devoted Vampire (from Evernight Publishing)
Queen Bitch of the Callowwood Pack (from Siren Publishing)
Not a Dragon’s Standard Virgin (from Siren Publishing)
Cloudburst Colorado Series
A Hell Hound’s Fire (from Three Lakes Books)
The Beltane Witch (from Three Lakes Books)
Christmas I.C.E. Magic (Happy Holidays from the Crescent Moon Lodge Anthology)
Cloudburst Ice Magic (from Three Lakes Books)
Bad Boys of Beta Squad Series
Bronco’s Rough Ride (from Three Lakes Books)
The Navy’s Ghost (from Three Lakes Books)
Rifts Series
Take the Reins (from Three Lakes Books)
A Centaur’s Solstice Wish (from Three Lakes Books)
Coming Soon
Second Chance Succubus
The Ivory Road Serial: Outback Dreams
Order of the Dragon (Warbler Peninsula #1)
Excerpt
Read on for an Excerpt of The Ivory Road: Outback Dreams, Book 2 in the Ivory Road Serial, coming soon from Siobhan Muir…
An antique oak desk and a matching chair stood beneath the window facing west, but the light cast an amber rectangle on the large bed beside the entrance door. Iliana’s suitcases had been left in front of a large ornate wardrobe set on the other side of the door next to the northern window. She rose, an irrational hope there might be a doorway back to the other dimension through the wardrobe sparking her motion, and had the wide doors open before she could stop herself.
Don’t be silly. Such doorways don’t exist.
Except she’d had some sort of experience with magical doorways. Yeah, if it wasn’t all a heatstroke dream. She knocked on the walls inside the wardrobe just to be safe, but no secret doors opened. She knelt to her suitcases and unpacked her clothes into the wardrobe before undressing for bed.
Her mind strayed to another moment where she’d undressed for Brandon Crowe, her dream lover and companion. He seemed so real. Everything had seemed real, but when she found herself at the park entrance next to her jeep, only four days later, she knew she’d imagined it all. I think.
Iliana groaned as grief threatened to spill out of her eyes. No. No more crying tonight. She took a few gulping breaths as someone knocked on her door. She squared her shoulders and opened the door.
“Here you go, love. Hearty chicken and rice with green beans.” Elle gave her a narrow look. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Iliana forced as smile as she took the tray. “Yes, just exhausted. It’s a long trip to get here and I didn’t sleep much the night before. Teach me to stay up late before a trip.”
Elle chuckled. “Not as young as you used to be, eh?”
Iliana snorted. “No. Apparently I slowed down when I turned thirty.”
“Yeah, that’s the way of it. Just take your time with your meal, and leave the dirties out by the door. I’ll have someone come for them.”
“Thank you. I’ll be more lively tomorrow, I promise.”
“No worries. Have a good rest.” Elle let herself out and Iliana sat down at the desk to enjoy her meal.
The chicken was tender, but she didn’t taste much of it. She let her gaze drift out the window to watch the wranglers bring in the horses for feeding. Looked like a bunch of mountain men driving a herd of brumbies. A group of kangaroos hopped across the field behind them, pausing to watch the humans work for a moment or two.
Don’t see that every day. Kind of like stepping across a dimensional boundary. It was a once-in-a-lifetime event.
Except, Aussies saw kangaroos all the time and she’d stepped across dimensions twice in one week. At least, she thought she did. She groaned as she shoved her plate away from her, her meal half-eaten. Ugh, I don’t know what’s real anymore.
She threw herself out of her chair, grabbed the woolen blanket on the back of the rocking chair, and settled herself on the hope chest near the window. She turned her head toward the stormy sky and let the tears fall. No matter what reality claimed, she’d had a helluva experience with Brandon Crowe. Aristotle had been as real to her as Martin the bag boy and the blue-eyed chauffeur.
Iliana sighed and closed her eyes, letting her tears slid down her face. She’d deal with it in the morning. Her sobs quieted after a while and she drifted into a doze. The house creaked around her as the wind picked up outside and she thought she heard voices. Bits of conversation, muffled by distance and doors, hit her awareness.
“Don’t worry, Crowe. I’ll go look for Iliana. I’m sure she didn’t mean to go.” The voice sounded like Aristotle’s smooth tenor. As if a horse can have human tones.
“Where could she be?” Brandon’s baritone rumbled through her, warming her chest with familiarity and longing.
I’m here, Brandon. I didn’t mean to leave you.
“And you’re sure she took nothing beyond one bag?” Frustration filled Brandon’s v
oice.
“Yes, master. Walked out alone as plain as day.”
Iliana wanted to jump up and down, wave frantically, or scream to get his attention, but she couldn’t reach him. His face filled her mind’s eyes full of bewilderment and worry. I’m here, Brandon. I swear.
He swung around, looking into the distance. The world beyond swirled out of her sight, but the tension mantling his shoulders pulled at her chest and made her whimper.
“Iliana!”
She jerked awake and sat up, clutching the woolen blanket to her chest as her heart thundered under her hands. The sun had set, but the sky retained some of the sun’s evening light. Motion outside her window made her turn her head. Another range rover parked in the driveway outside the house and the driver got out to unload someone’s bags.
Iliana almost turned away until the passenger stepped into the light from the porch. She gasped and pressed her hands to the window. “Brandon.”
The man looked up straight at her as if he’d heard her exhalation and her breath froze in her throat. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt under an Aussie duster raincoat, and a wide brimmed hat sat on his head. He appeared clean-shaven and wore his hair cropped close to his head. The driver handed him an umbrella and he was lost from her view.
Iliana sat back and blinked a few times, trying to get her breathing under control. Not Brandon. That has to be Taggart Crowe, coworker. Costar. Not Brandon.
She turned her gaze and scanned her room, remembering where she sat and why she’d come. I’m in Australia to make a movie and Brandon Crowe is a figment of my overactive imagination. As much as she wanted Brandon to be real, she had to deal with what sat in front of her. He existed in her dreams and imagination, but reality was a completely different beast.
She sighed and rose, dumping the blanket on the window seat. She took her time getting undressed and ready for bed. Elle’s voice drifted through the door from the hallway with someone else’s deeper response, but she tuned them out as she switched off the light.
