By reading this, you are stating that you are 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.


SECRETS VOLUME 14
Trade Paperback


Copyright © Angela Knight, Alexa Aames, Jennifer Barlowe, Leigh Wynfield, 2005
All Rights Reserved, Red Sage Publishing, Inc.

AILIS AND THE BEAST BY JENNIFER BARLOWE EXCERPT

Standing in front of him, Ailis felt full of anticipation in a way she’d never imagined. He lifted her wet hair so that it fell on top of the cloak of leaves. He was much taller than she, the top of her head only barely coming to his chin. He lowered his face to just over her hair and breathed in, his breath stirring the strands at the top of her scalp. He drank in the smell of her, then stepped around her so that he stood at her back, his hands lightly on either of her shoulders. He spoke near her right ear.
“What do you see?” he asked. She looked at the cave wall in front of her. Wavering line drawings of men fled from a dark, threatening smear that reached for them with spiky hands. In the next scene, one of the man-drawings approached the dark thing with a torch held aloft. The image after that showed the man still with his torch, but the darkness had been transformed into a glowing orb with rays like the sun reaching all around. As she turned her head, looked above, below, and around the cavern, she saw the same scene acted out again and again in different styles. In some of the images, it was clearly a woman who carried the torch. In others she could see embraces between a woman and a Beast, or a woman and a man. She saw the seasons turn in the drawings, saw fallow fields grow fertile, and again and again, darkness transformed.
“I see us,” she said. “Everywhere.” She was so warm she was beginning to sweat. As though he’d read her thoughts, the cloak dropped away from her shoulders, leaving her bare. Even with the garment gone, his own warmth still blazed behind her like the sun on the wall in front of her. His sex nudged against her buttocks, and his chest pressed against her back as he stepped closer to her.”

NIGHT HEAT BY LEIGH WYNFIELD EXCERPT

Rip’s gaze drifted to the Healer’s honey-blond hair, which was swept up into a messy ponytail. Loose pieces framed a strong face with sumptuous lips and deep blue-green eyes. Not beautiful, but pretty enough to be a problem.
Like himself, the men and women who followed him had committed crimes against the Inter-world Council, civil disobedience such as writing opposition literature and protesting policy too vigorously for the Council’s taste, but life in prison had turned them hard. Since the planet had been abandoned, they’d been reduced to doing anything they could to stay alive. Even he had killed and would, he suspected, kill again -- a far cry from organizing the protest rallies that had put him here. And while there were women enough to go around now that half his men were sick, the Healer was tasty enough to draw attention.
His request for her help put her under his personal protection. The thought pleased him on some level, and he allowed his body to move half a step closer to hers.
When she glided away, he caught her arm. Her gaze jerked to his and he felt again the surprisingly strong attraction between them he’d noticed outside the tunnels where the few remaining administration personnel had barricaded themselves. He’d never even seen her before today, so how could he feel this way?
He’d gone without a woman for two years now, and he was probably just feeling the effects of it. He should take someone to bed. Soon. Maybe the Healer. He brushed her lips with his gaze, watching the flare of surprise cruise through her eyes. Something told him she would be different from the others he’d bedded. Soft, sexy, passionate. Right.
He yanked his thoughts out of his pants. His men needed him now. “Stay close to me, or I won’t be able to protect you.” He held her with the intense stare he sometimes used with his men. The one that said don’t-screw-with-me.
She raised an eyebrow, but nodded. Not backing down.

SOUL KISSES BY ANGELA KNIGHT EXCERT

Prologue

Beth Chase leaned close to the canvas to add a dot of gold highlight to one painted brown eye. Stepping back, she tilted her head and studied the portrait she’d been working on for the past two weeks.
Her sister sat in a spill of white lace and seed pearls, her tall, handsome groom standing behind her in a dark and elegant suit. Valerie’s big gray eyes glowed with happiness, and Cade looked downright besotted as he gazed down at her.
Beth decided she’d caught both likenesses pretty well. Except ... the painting still needed something.
An idea struck, inspiring a wicked grin. She dropped her brush in the jar of turpentine and chose a sable one that was even finer. Humming under her breath, Beth leaned forward and added a tiny, delicate shape between the groom’s painted lips – the barest hint of a fang. Not enough for a casual observer to notice, but her brother-in-law would spot it immediately.
Cade McKinnon, former Texas Ranger turned vampire, would probably laugh his ass off. What better gift for the couple’s fifth wedding anniversary?
Her portable phone rang from amid the litter of paint tubes and brushes on her art table, jolting Beth from her artistic haze. She gave the phone a wary glance and picked up, hoping it wasn’t Joaquin Ramirez again. She really wasn’t up to another creepy conversation. She really needed to get caller ID. “Hello?”
“What’s wrong?” Val’s creamy Atlanta drawl rang with instant alarm.
Beth winced. She’d set off her sister’s Mommy alarm. “Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that–I know that tone. Something’s bothering you.”
Oh, hell, might as well come clean. Besides, she might need the help. “I’ve got an ex-boyfriend who’s pushing a little hard.”
“Are you saying you’re being stalked?” Val’s voice took on that God-help-anybody-who-threatens-my-baby-sister tone. “What’s going on? What’s he been doing?”
Now Beth was beginning to feel like an idiot. “Look, it’s not that big a deal, really. I broke it off with this guy, and he’s not happy about it. I can handle it.”    
The line clicked as Cade picked up the other phone. “You want me to come to Atlanta and have a word with him?”
It was a tempting thought. Five minutes with Cade and his psychic powers, and Joaquin would forget he even knew Beth. On the other hand, she hated the idea of turning to her vampire relatives to solve her problems. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself.”
“We didn’t say you couldn’t, babe,” Val said. “But back when I was a reporter...”
“...You wrote a story about a stalker who ended up killing his ex.” No matter what the topic of conversation, Val had usually written a story about it.
“Not a story – more like ten or fifteen. Stalkers are nothing to screw around with.”
“Look, Beth, just humor us,” Cade said. “Tell us about this guy.”
Well, Joaquin had gotten a little scary lately. “Not much to tell.” Brooding, she rubbed at a spot of wet Cadmium Red on her jeans. “I met him at my gallery showing last month. He seemed charming enough at first – all, good looking, had this kind of Antonio Banderas thing going...”
“Let me guess – he’s married,” Val said.
“I wish. He might be easier to get rid of. Anyway, after we went out a few times, I started to suspect there was something nasty under all that charm.” Needing to move, she began to pace her studio restlessly. “So a couple of days ago, I told him to get lost.”
“Good,” Val said. “When you get a psychic impression that strong, you need to listen to it.”
Beth frowned. She’d never been comfortable with the idea she might share her sister’s mental abilities. “I don’t know that I’d call it a psychic impression, but he definitely freaked me out.”
“Are you sure this guy isn’t a vampire?” Cade was beginning to sound worried.
“Joaquin?”  Oh, now there was a nasty thought. She shook her head. “Can’t be. We went out five or six times, and he never gave any indication he was anything more than just a guy. A son of a bitch, but not supernatural.”
“If he is a vampire, who knows what kind of game he’s playing?” Cade said. “You’re Kith, Beth. That makes you damn rare. There are vamps that’d go to any length to get their hands on a Kith female.” Few people could survive being infected by the virus that caused vampirism. Vamps called those who could the Kith, as in “kith and kin.”   
By transforming a Kith, a master vampire could enslave him and use the new vamp’s psychic powers to strengthen his own. Ugly as that enslavement could be for a man, a woman would suffer an even worse fate. Some vampires had very ugly tastes indeed, and would like nothing better than torturing a woman whose vampire powers could heal any injury. The possibility of falling victim to someone like that was terrifying. She’d come far too close to it once before, when she’d been kidnapped by Cade’s vampire sire, Edward Ridgemont.
“Boy, that’s a disgusting thought,” Beth said, grimacing. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him during the day. That might be coincidence, though.”
“Or it might not.” There was a long, chilly pause. “I think I should come to Atlanta.”
She sighed. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea. I...” The doorbell rang, cutting her off. “Hold on a minute, there’s somebody at the door.”
“Beth...”
Carrying the phone, Beth walked out of her studio and down the hall to the apartment’s front door. Automatically, she checked the peephole. “Oh, hell.”
It was Ramirez, tall and elegant in a charcoal Seville Row suit, his gleaming dark hair flawlessly styled. Her heart began to pound. Could Cade be right? Was he a vampire? Licking her lips, she automatically checked the deadbolt. It was locked. That was something, anyway. “Joaquin, go away or I’m calling the cops,” she called through the closed door. “I’ve told you I’m not interested.”
“The problem is, my dove,” he purred back in that thick Castilian accent, “I am.”
“Too bad.” Lifting the phone with a hand that shook, she turned to move away. “I’ve got to call the cops. Joaquin is at the...”
The door exploded inward with a crash. With a startled yelp, Beth whirled as Ramirez shouldered through its splintered remains. “Are you nuts?” She backed away, wondering nervously if he’d broken with vampire strength. “Get the hell out!”
“I don’t think so, my dove.” He looked more cruel than handsome now, his hawkish face stark with hunger and feral anticipation. When he smiled, her blood chilled. He had fangs. Well, that answered that question.
Beth whirled to run, but Ramirez grabbed her before she could take another step. His grip sent pain lancing through her arms. She dropped the phone and went for his eyes with her nails. He hit her, a stunning backhand slap that sent her staggering back to trip over the coffee table. She fell, hitting the floor in a bruising tumble. Blackness crowded in.
The last thing she heard was Cade roaring her name over Val’s frantic questions. “Beth? Beth, what’s happening? Be...!”

TEMPTATION IN TIME BY ALEXA AAMES EXCERPT

Ariana purred softly. She was being stroked just where she needed it most. She stretched, spreading her legs.
She wanted his mouth. He had such delicious, sensual lips.
He smiled, and his eyes, black as kohl, glinted with passion. “Ariana.”
She woke with a start and sat up. Fear stabbed her heart.  She was alone in her bed, but his touch had felt so real. She shivered. Was he getting closer? She pushed aside her panic, and, for a moment, the memory of his fingers caressing her sex, thrusting inside her came back. Her belly contracted with a throb of lust. She drew in a frustrated breath and exhaled audibly.
She climbed from the bed, marched over to the walnut dresser, and pulled out a pair of sweats. She yanked them on over her damp panties, thinking about the owner of the dark eyes and sensual lips…Marcus. They’d only met once, but he’d made an indelible impression on her. Sorcerers didn’t come any sexier—or more infamous—than Marcus; he would be difficult for anyone to forget. She, on the other hand, probably wouldn’t have made much of an impression on him if she hadn’t vanished after stealing a kiss and, with it, some of his magical power.
It was hard to hide from him now. Even as far as she’d traveled, he could reach the landscape of her dreams. The slightest sexual arousal seemed to draw him to her subconscious like moth to flame, which was why she avoided the intimacy she craved, tried to suppress the passion he stirred. Even now, when the dream had faded, his molten power pulsed through her, linking them, his invisible presence still nearly palpable.
It had been seven years since she’d stolen that kiss. He’d already been dangerous. Just how powerful was he now? She shuddered to imagine.
Celibacy was the only way to stay concealed. Unfortunately, celibacy left a lot to be desired.
***
Ariana swayed her hips to the reggae beat that thrummed through her coffee shop as she stirred a couple drops of coconut extract into the oversized black cup. “The Witch’s Brew” was printed on the mug in pearly white letters.
“Here you go,” Ariana said, smiling at the customer.
The customer winked at her and dropped a dollar into the tip jar without missing a beat in the conversation he was having on his cell phone.
Simon, owner of the reggae music and the longest, neatest dread locks in Ohio, danced out into the middle of the floor. He sashayed behind the counter, twirling her around. She laughed as the customers hooted with approval at the sight of her dancing with the Jamaican.
“Good news, boss lady,” Simon said, after spinning her in another twirl.
“What’s that?”
“Dr. Bob called from St. Luke’s Hospital. He said to tell ya, leetle Angela is in remission.”
“That’s wonderful.” Ariana said, beaming. Modern medicine was truly a marvel. Of course, a healing kiss never hurt either. As she danced, she glanced over at the calendar. She’d wait at least three weeks before she visited St. Luke’s pediatric oncology ward again. This week, she’d volunteer at the Columbia burn unit. She’d heard on the news about a firefighter who’d been badly burned. The report had said he wasn’t doing well, but she knew he still had a chance to recover. She would see to that. She puckered her lips and kissed the air. Life could be wonderful.
***
Ariana awoke twisted in her sheets and gasping for breath. She was wearing gray terrycloth short-shorts into which her fingers had apparently found their way. Damned erotic dreams. What was she supposed to do about them? Tie up her hands before she went to bed?
“Ariana.”
Her breath caught in her throat. The whisper in her head had sounded far too real. She sat up, shaking off her unease. She would make herself a cup of chamomile tea and think about what to do. Maybe she could wear mittens to sleep.
She turned on the light and climbed from bed. Sighing slightly in annoyance, she pulled down the ribbed tank top that had ridden up during her nighttime exploits. She padded across the beige carpet, watching her feet as she made her way to the kitchen.
Then she saw them and froze. Black boots. Men’s boots encasing a man’s calves. Her heart began to hammer a protest in her chest.
Her gaze rolled up his body, muscular thighs in black tights gave way to a hard naked torso where two scars slashed their way up from his navel to his left nipple. A cloak the color of midnight hung from his broad shoulders and met with black wavy hair.
She knew whose face it would be, but she hesitated for a moment before looking. Dread and dizziness surrounded her. Let it be a dream. Nay, a nightmare.
His mouth was curved into a slight sneer. “Hello, little thief. It has been a very long time.”
She reeled backward, turning from him. There was nowhere really to run to, but her body sprung toward even a momentary escape. He caught her shoulders, and she fell back against him. The shock of being pressed against his hard, hot body was compounded when he slid an arm around her torso and his hand cupped her breast. She gasped a protest, but he ignored it. He squeezed firmly and ran his thumb over her nipple, which pebbled into a firm bead at the erotic command of his touch. Her body suddenly felt heavy with need.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly.
“Longer than I have already waited? I think not.” His free arm coiled around her body like a snake.
“What do you intend to do?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“I intend to exact payment, my lady.”
She opened her mouth to speak again, but fell silent at the sound of his deep rumbling voice speaking an ancient language. She didn’t even have time to decipher the words before she felt the air rustle.
The breath was sucked from her lungs as a maelstrom claimed them. She felt her body twisted and pummeled by invisible forces, and her eyes could see nothing but blackness. I’m dying. Please! Help me.

RED SAGE PUBLISHING, INC. © 2005 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED