Night Moves                      

Noai’de, Olivia Lorenz
Lady Suvi is fascinated by wolf-shaman Kari, but when her people are attacked, will Kari
be revealed as beast or man?

Dark Gift, Ravyn Reccio
Erotic dreams bring to life Dianna's deepest, and darkest, desires. Will she give into the haunting man, and accept his immortal gift?

In The Dark, Lil Gibson
What happens when the man conjured up from her imagination—the star of every one of her fantasies—crashes her almost fiancés’ party? Sparks fly…

At The Edge Of Darkness, J H Wear
Can Rodney, a claustrophobic suffering vampire find romance? Rodney wants Irene. Her friend Shelly feels uneasy about him. And meet Sheldon, a whole other mystery.   

EXCERPTS 

Noai’de
by
Olivia Lorenz 

“I’m sorry, my lady.” The apothecary shook his head, his smile tight. “We have only the same herbs and medicines as the last time you enquired.”

“I thought you were expecting fresh supplies soon?” Suvi forced a smile in response, aware of the sympathy in the apothecary’s eyes.

“That’s true, but alas…” He shrugged. “The summer trade has been slow along the King’s West Road these past few months. The skirmishes with the Novgorodians are a burden to everyone. Merchants tread warily in times of war, you know that.”

Suvi nodded. She did know. Her father, Gustav Ahrenberg, served as the jarl of this prosperous market town in the central southern part of Eastland. To keep the town and its people safe, Gustav had ridden out with half of Häbo’s garrison a little more than two months ago on a mission from the King of Sweden. He hadn’t told his wife and daughter where he was headed, but Suvi knew it had something to do with the continuing clashes with the Novgorodians, the mighty dynasts who controlled most of Byzantine Russia from the fluctuating borders of Eastland to the Black Sea.

Eastland had been a reluctant battleground for longer than anyone in Häbo could remember. Absorbed into Sweden’s outlying territories almost two hundred years before she was born, it was a place of emptiness and mystery, a country of vast forests and boggy fenland, where the snow lay cold for much of the year in the northern reaches, and where the sun set only for an hour or two in the summer.

Häbo was situated along the King’s West Road, a trade route that ran between Oslo and Stockholm, across Eastland to Helsingfors and beyond into the Baltic countries and thence across Russia to the Black Sea. Although immensely profitable for all those who traversed the route carrying amber, spices, furs, leather and silver, the fact remained that merchants dislike travelling through an unstable region.

Every resident of Häbo hoped that the jarl and his troops could push back the Novgorodians and secure lasting peace for the region. Suvi hoped for this, too, of course, but more than that, she wanted her father to return home before the lingering sickness took his wife—Suvi’s mother.

Jona Ahrenberg had fallen ill with a summer fever only a few days after the men had marched out. As the weeks passed without word from Gustav, Jona had grown weaker and more dispirited. Suvi took charge of running the manor house and oversaw the numerous small disputes that the townsfolk brought to her.

At first, Jona helped her untangle the complicated ties binding the various merchant guilds, the laws governing itinerant traders, the taxes due to Häbo and the King, and other issues. But as Suvi’s confidence grew in handling the jarl’s affairs, Jona’s health deteriorated, and eventually, Jona took to her bed where she still lay, pale as the winter snow, more dead than alive.

Since then, Suvi came twice every week to the marketplace in search of a remedy for her mother’s sickness. The town apothecary had been able to give her an elixir that seemed to improve Jona’s health for a few days, but that had been three weeks ago; and now to hear that new medicine would be late in coming…

“There’s nothing else you can recommend?” She tried to keep the desperation from her voice. “I’ll try anything. Anything at all.”

The apothecary spread out his hands in a helpless gesture. “I’m sorry, my lady. If I could help, you know I would do it. Have you tried the healer from Tulijoki?”

“Yes.” Suvi closed her eyes briefly at the memory of what the old woman from the neighbouring town had diagnosed. “She said—she said…”

 The apothecary bowed his head. “I’m so sorry, my lady. I will pray for your mother. We are all in God’s hands, as the priests like to remind us. Perhaps He will look kindly on Lady Ahrenberg. Your father is so well-respected hereabouts, I am sure many people must pray for your mother’s recovery…”

“I need something more than prayers,” Suvi said, “but thank you all the same.” She forced a smile to her lips again before she turned away. It would not do to show her unhappiness in front of the townsfolk. Even thought the apothecary had spoken the truth, that the people of Häbo admired the jarl and his family, her grief was something private. Her father had taught her to be strong, to be a leader in times of need, and she knew that the locals looked to her for an example.

If she could continue the pretence that her mother would soon be well, the town would thrive in her father’s absence. If she fell apart, as she sometimes wanted to do, then someone from the merchant’s guilds, or perhaps even the priest, Father Nordmann, would try to wrest control of Häbo from her.

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Dark Gift
by Ravyn Reccio 

Part One
The Claiming 

The full moon gave the newly fallen snow a soft blue cast; the chill air causing her breath to cloud so thickly it was difficult to see. She closed her mouth, breathing through her nose in small dragon-like puffs, fighting to keep in sight the figure just inside the tree line. He was tall, over six foot, wearing a long black duster, a wide-brimmed black hat, and high black leather boots. She never moved a muscle as he sauntered toward her now. Half-lidded, silted red eyes held hers through lightly-tinted sunglasses. His hair, shaggy, long, and black as a raven’s wing, cascaded over his shoulders. A slight smile twisted his thin lips, suggesting just the hint of wickedly overlong canines.

Soft, seductive, his slightly accented voice sounded altogether alluring. “You’ve followed me a long way to just stand there now, Dianna. You think I hold the answers to your desires…Well, maybe I do, but you will never find them out standing out in the snow. Come with me.”

Dianna shivered, not just with the cold. She noticed his breath did not cloud, and the chill seemed not to affect him. Where she hunched over and stumbled, he walked with slow, easy strides. The unfriendly smile altered little, but his alien eyes seemed to warm just a touch behind the tinted glasses. “You’ll never learn anything if you freeze to death, girl. I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re afraid of.” He held out his gloved hand in invitation to her. “Come.”

With one last, delicate shudder, she reached out and took his hand. She expected cold, hard, unyielding flesh, and was met with warmth as the long fingers curled around her hand and gently pulled her closer. She felt her resolve melting away in that warm contact, her eyes recaptured by his, and any lingering willpower dissipated with her inexorable move into his arms.

The stranger wrapped his long duster around her shoulders, holding her close to him, and his warmth soothed her iciness like slipping into a hot bath. She sighed and nearly swooned for the relief of feeling like she was now where she was meant to be. His body against her felt hard muscled and smooth beneath the silk shirt he wore, his hands large and strong where he held her shoulder, trapping her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and he smiled again, this time gentle, soothing, seductive. He hushed her quietly and gathered her up in his arms as though she were a child, and carried her through the snowy night. She was lulled by his soft tones and comforting warmth, and slept with her head against his chest…despite her entranced state she noticed that her paramour had no heartbeat…

* * * *

She awoke languidly, a soft voice calling her up from her deep lethargy. The voice called out her name. “Dianna.”

She opened her eyes to see the stone-walled chamber, lit by a fire in a large fireplace and long black taper candles in brass sconces along the tapestry-covered walls.

 A tall cheval mirror stood off to one side, dusty from lack of use, though beautiful, antiquely ornate. The door looked heavy, oaken and the hinges were of thick cast-iron in a very old style she had not seen except in history books. A narrow window overlooked a moonlit courtyard far below; an English teagarden delicately traced in rosebushes. The bed beneath her was large and soft, covered in deep velvet down comforters and fluffy pillows. Above her rose the canopy, draped in dark burgundy velvet curtains. The immaculate beauty amazed her as her consciousness increased.

Pulling herself up to sitting, she noticed she no longer wore her street clothes. Now clad in a silken black gown exposing her neck, and much of her cleavage, Dianna wondered if a dream could be so real. She gazed around her in amazement and was met again by the stranger’s red eyes, this time uncovered. With a start she attempted to cover herself. He sat casually on a high-backed chair, looking cool, giving her a possessive yet soft grin. He wore only his white silk shirt, opened to the waist and cinched in by his leather pants.

As her gaze raked down to his boots and back up to his free-falling hair, he raised a high arched eyebrow, bemused. “Sleep well, my dear?” he drawled.

Now, fear closed her mouth. The reality of what this man was hit her, out of her trance-like state the panic ruled. She could not speak for the constriction of her throat around her pounding pulse. She backed away across the bed, winding up against the elaborate mahogany headboard, shaking her head and trembling. He cocked his head, looking intrigued, and sat up straighter, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his chin on his long, steepled fingers.

 Her lower lip quivered. The thought of running her fingers through his silken black hair crossed her terrified mind. She tried to fight the thoughts away as she wondered what kissing those pale lips would be like, and shook her head to clear her mind. This was insane! Her life was forfeit! What had she done? Was giving into her unnatural desires worth risking her life all for the sake of wanting to be different and finally loved and wanted by someone, anyone for that matter. Ever since she could remember, he haunted her in her dreams and even come to her during the early hours of the night. Night after night the same question remained unanswered. Why had he chosen to appear only to her?

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In The Dark
by Lil Gibson 
 

In the dark.

Always in the dark, he came to her. Lately it seemed she remained in the dark; hardly recognizing herself, or how events could have brought her to this juncture. Even her dream job as V.P. of Sales and Marketing at Haniford’s Handles had lost its appeal.

When she spoke to her friends of him, her dream lover, they laughed and blamed it on pre-wedding jitters. The fact that she’d turned down Tom’s proposal for the fourth time didn’t seem to faze anyone but Tanya. Even her parents pressed for the match. They wanted her to marry into a family that could support them in the way they wanted to become accustomed. And Tom’s parents, Bill and Gloria Haniford, saw Tanya’s hardworking diligence and scrupulous reliability as a steadying influence. Their charming, irresponsible son needed help to mature, and take his job of CEO more seriously. Instead he used it as an excuse to co-ordinate and launch a never ending string of four martini lunches, partying with clients past, present and future. Bill and Gloria had even gone so far as offering her a partnership in their company when she wed their son.

Everyone would come out a winner. Only she didn’t want to. And what was wrong with this picture when she preferred her imaginary lover over the reality of Tom? Handsome and charismatic, he was considered a marvelous catch and the two of them shared an easy camaraderie and a relaxed business relationship. Only she didn’t feel right in his arms. He was simply wrong. Wrong for her. She had to tell him, make him understand.

Not like the one who visited her in deep night, playing her body like a finely tuned instrument—doing things to her that made her scream her completion. Teaching her intimacy that she hadn’t imagined could occur between a man and a woman. Each morning she awakened completely naked and bonelessly replete; divest of her panties and tee-shirt, her sheet tangled around her thighs. And the dreams were becoming worse…or better…and occurring with greater frequency, more vivid in detail. She could almost see his face, taste his skin, become lost in the dark chocolate promise of his eyes.

And then she’d have to wake up and face another day without him.

Sighing, Tanya climbed out of bed making a mental note to dress for that night’s company function. Bill and Gloria were celebrating the tenth year of Haniford’s Handles at the country club and since Tanya held a position of prominence, her attendance was mandatory. While she dressed and made herself up, she kept looking longingly at her bed; wanting the day to be over so she could fall into his arms, once again.

* * * *

The festive party, now in full swing was loud and boisterous. Tom remained by her side doing his best to charm and cajole, hoping to change her mind about the two of them. “Tom, you can have any unattached woman in the room and probably a few who aren’t, why are you being so utterly single-minded about us? I mean we have a good time and get along but there is no spark, and don’t say you haven’t noticed.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets with a wry grin, Tom looked boyishly chagrined. “I’m afraid you caught me out, darlin’. You see, our wedding present was to be a sixty foot yacht I’ve had my eye on…”

“You bounder,” Tanya laughed, smacking him playfully of the arm. “Now it makes sense. Hmm, maybe if you marry someone else they’ll still come through. Or even better, convince them you are utterly brokenhearted by my refusal and need a diversion in order to heal.”

“Excellent strategy,” Tom agreed, smiling. “Who’s the guy over there? He’s been staring daggers at you for the last five minutes.”

Tanya caught a shadow out of the corner of her eye and started after it in awe. He moved just like her imaginary lover. She followed him through a door leading to the veranda.

“It’s you,” she blurted, avidly taking in the stark planes of his face, his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and powerful, almost overpowering, countenance. Too late, she realized her blunder. With his continued, stony silence, Tanya decided she’d fallen down another wrong rabbit hole—countless many, in her experience, thanks to a vivid imagination. Embarrassed beyond redemption, she looked around at their deserted surroundings.

“You came out here to be alone and I have disturbed you. I – It’s a case of mistaken identity. Please excuse me.”

Still silent, he raised an amused eyebrow. Tanya turned to flee only to be stopped short by an arm across the exit. She took a couple of calming breaths before facing him.

“What makes you think I’m the wrong male?” The cadence of his question caressed her from the inside, out.

Tanya gaped at the familiar, accented sound of his voice. It matched the one in her dreams. Deep, smoldering, exotic. She gave herself a mental shake; time for a reality check…and escape. But before she could duck under his arm, he locked her in his embrace and took her flying into the night, high enough to catch the stars.  

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At The Edge Of Darkness
by   J H Wear

 Prelude
Boston, New England 
March 2, 1841 

Rose-Marie brushed back the limp, damp hair clinging to his forehead, then gently stroked his cheek as he lay on the small bed.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be long now. Just try to relax, I’ll be here to take good care of you.”

He turned his head towards her, his eyes barely open. His vision seemed unfocused and incomplete. It didn't really matter. His memory of her was good enough. Dark red hair that framed her lovely face, golden eyes that seemed to radiate with their own light, and the pale skin that followed the delightful curves of her body. He remembered all of her and hated every part.

“Leave me! I would rather die than to be cursed with you or your life!” His voice came out in a whisper, rather than the shout he intended.

She blinked for a moment, and then smiled knowingly. “You say that now. But you’re not in the right frame of mind. Soon you’ll understand, when we’re together. You once told me that you loved me. I believed you then and I still think you love me even if you deny it. You’re fortunate that I’m willing to take the time to teach you, and to care for you.” With her fingertips she traced a path from his face down his bare chest, resting them a moment on his stomach before repeating the action. She reached down and circled her fingers around his cock, smiling at her dominance over him.

His arms felt too heavy to slap her hands away, and again he cursed his weakness. He tried to speak, but found his mouth too dry, and now the heavy blanket of sleep started to cover him. His eyes shut one last time, and his life ended as he struggled against the darkness.

* * * *

“Water.”

This time she heard him and moved quickly to obtain a cup. She supported his back as he gulped it down.

“More.”

The second cup seemed to quench his thirst, and he fell back on his bed. He felt her hands pulling up the blanket to his shoulders, then quickly dropped back to something resembling sleep.

The next time he stayed awake longer and was able to eat a bit of stew. He still raged at her, calling her names and throwing out threats when she was there to listen. But she tolerated his behavior as something expected, and calmly went about her business of making him stronger.

“Would you like more bread?”

He grabbed the slice from her hand. “Don’t you know I will kill you when I get strong enough?”

She sighed. “It will be a very long time before that happens. And it’s not just the body, but also the mind that has strength.” And then for a moment she bore at him with golden eyes that suspended him in a timeless trap and just as quickly released him. “I know how you feel, because once I felt that way towards my mentor.”

She sat next to him on the small bed and ran her fingertips from his neck down his chest, coming to rest on his knee, pushing the thin cover down as she did so. Though she had released him from her direct mental control, he could still feel the remnants of its power, and couldn’t do anything to stop her from touching him. He was more aware than ever of being naked on the small bed, unable to muster the strength to walk out of the room.

The woman seemed to understand his plight, and moved her hand to his upper leg, massaging his inner thigh gently. She slid her fingers up to his leg and dragged them over his groin before stopping to play with his pubic hair. She sported the look of a modest victory, such as one would use to gloat after winning a chess game. Despite his feelings towards her and his fear of what he was becoming, his own body started to betray him as his loins reacted to her touch. She pulled her hand away and stood up just as he was beginning to exert control on his arms again. Rose-Marie looked down at him, surveying his body, before pulling the blanket over him again.

“I could make you love me again, but I would rather it happens again on its own accord. And it will, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

He said nothing more, fearing  she was right. Who else but she could he have? Who else would care for him? He finished eating the bread. His stomach was full, but the hunger had not subsided. Rose-Marie had asked him if he wanted to feed, and he refused to admit he had the urge to do so. She merely smiled and went out that night to satisfy her own needs.

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