Ellora's Cavemen: Tales from the Temple II (12 page)

She’d been putting in a lot of overtime, busting her rear to get this research and her project to succeed and she must’ve succumbed to her exhaustion before she hit the send button.

Erin shook her head in disbelief. Had it all been a dream? Was Kian just another character in a long, involved dream? But her memories seemed so real. She shivered as she vividly remembered her lover’s scent, the way he felt inside her, and a deep ache filled her heart.

He had to be real
, she insisted in her mind as she grabbed the mouse and clicked through her email inbox, her heart racing. Erin scrolled through several hundred emails, but she didn’t find a single one from Kian.

Maybe what I just experienced in my dreams was a premonition of the future
, she thought as she glanced again at the unsent email to Daniel.

She pulled up all her research files she’d yet to make a secret CD backup for and moved the mouse to highlight them all.

Her curser blinked back at her, winking, waiting for her to make a final decision.

Erin’s heart thudded in her chest as her finger suspended over the delete key. All the hard work, all these years of research, and it all comes to this one pivotal moment.
If
I do this and Kian was real, then I’ll never get to experience his touch, feel him moving inside
me, know his love
. The fleeting, selfish thought crossed her mind for all of two seconds before she dismissed it.

She sighed.
If Kian does exist, he would agree this is the only right thing to do
, she told herself as she let her finger land on the delete key.

68

Dream Walker

Are you sure you want to delete these files
? her computer read as if playing devil’s advocate.

Setting her jaw, she hit the “enter” key.

A wave of relief washed over her when she deleted the files and the unsent email to Daniel. As she started to clean up the Styrofoam coffee cups and toss them in the trash can, a thought struck her:
Trashcan!

She needed to empty the trashcan on her computer, too. Moving her mouse over the “trashcan” icon, she clicked to empty the recycle bin.

Are you sure you want to permanently delete these files?
the computer asked her once more.

Argh! Her computer was mocking her, she thought as she hit the “enter” key with a determined tap.

As soon as she lifted her finger off the key, a bolt of lightning slashed across the empty lab and a vortex opened up right in front of her. Strong wind flew through the room, disturbing papers, whipping her hair around her.

Erin held her hair away from her face and stared in shock at the swirling dark blue void before her. When Kian walked through the portal and held out his hand to her, she literally fell off her stool.

He stood there wearing a black leather vest and black fitted pants with a gold embroidered ceremonial-looking sash around his trim waist. His long black hair flowed down his shoulders, drawing her attention to his thick chest and muscular biceps.

Kian chuckled as he scooped her up in his arms. “At least you’re conscious this time,
m’nara
. You didn’t think I’d leave you behind, did you?”

Happy tears spilled down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight. Pulling way, she met his striking green gaze and said, “But your memory would have been erased when you went back in time and none of this has really happened yet.”

Kian raised an arrogant eyebrow. “Ah, but I didn’t go back the way I came. And as for you thinking something as simple as a space and time continuum could erase my memory of you…” He paused and gave her a stern look. “I think you’ll need to be reminded why you are my mate in all ways.”

He turned and stepped into the vortex saying, “Here on Earth, you were way ahead of your time, Eriana. Come home with me where you belong.”

69

About the author:

Patrice Michelle welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1337 Commerce Drive, Suite 13, Stow OH 44224.

Also by Patrice Michelle:

Harm’s Hunger: Bad in Boots

A Taste For Passion

Cajun Nights

Dragon’s Heart

A Taste For Revenge

ONE NIGHT STAND

J.C. Wilder

One Night Stand

Lucius deVille had the face of an angel and the body of an unrepentant sinner. He was the kind of vampire every woman dreamed of calling ‘Lover’ at least once in her life. He was the proverbial tall, dark and handsome male who was the fantasy of millions of women around the world and to top it all off, he was educated and possessed a wicked sense of humor that had charmed more than one woman out of her panties.

Tonight, Rachel was determined to claim Luc as her own. For the evening, at least.

She slipped through the open doors of the
Chat Noir
, a popular restaurant and jazz club. To the left was the restaurant. Every table was crammed with Halloween revelers dressed in every kind of costume imaginable. A group of over-aged, underdressed cheerleaders hoisted their cocktails in a boisterous salute while the table next to them was filled to overflowing with costumed nuns and empty shot glasses.

To the right was a cramped seating area for patrons who consumed cocktails while they waited for their tables to be vacated. It, too, was crammed to the hilt and Rachel grinned as a naked man sauntered past dressed only in a body condom and an inebriated smile.

God, she loved living in New Orleans.

She threaded her way through the crowd and headed straight for the bar where she knew Luc was most likely to be stationed. She spotted her prey at the end of the bar talking to a redheaded waitress. With his elbow propped on the polished wood, he leaned against the bar and looked to be completely at ease in the midst of the madness going on around him.

Topping out at several inches past six feet, he was a masterpiece of hard-muscled male and barely leashed sensuality. His shoulder-length silky black hair was pulled back from an autocratic face with a narrow strip of black leather. Thick, dark lashes framed his mesmerizing blue eyes and his nose was thin with a slight bump at the bridge betraying the fact that it had been broken at least once during his human life.

His mouth was wide and sensual, bordering on feminine for such a masculine face.

The lean planes of his cheeks and the sharp line of his jaw saved him from being mistaken for anything other than one hundred percent male.

A pointy elbow landed in her ribs and the unprovoked strike jerked her out of her contemplation. She scowled and allowed her lips to draw back from the needle-sharp incisors, knowing any mortal would believe them to be false. Halloween was the one night of the year vampires could flash their fangs and no one would pay them any attention.

Her molester was a drunken human dressed as a gladiator. He gave her a lopsided smile, tripped over his own feet, staggered and fell against his friends who were dressed as he was. He grabbed his crotch and leered at her.

“Hey babe, wanna bite this?”

His friends roared with laughter and then shoved him toward Rachel. She was forced to grab him or risk being knocked to the ground by his substantial weight.

73

J.C. Wilder

Laugh at her, would they?

She snagged his collar and hauled him up until he was on his tiptoes, high enough to gain his attention without anyone else around them noticing. His eyes bulged and his knees knocked against hers as he flailed in an attempt to gain his freedom.

She smiled and flashed her fangs. His human strength was pathetic when compared to her vampiric abilities.

“Not without a rabies shot, little man.” She released him and pushed him toward his laughing friends. It was only a gentle nudge yet it sent him barreling backwards into the others and forced them all back a few steps.

A wide-eyed blond man grabbed her victim by the arm. Giving Rachel an apologetic smile and a bobbing nod, he pulled his spluttering friend into the crowd leaving the others to follow.

Smart man.

Turning away, she moved through the crowd to the bar. When she passed Luc, he was still deep in conversation with the waitress. Rachel’s gaze moved over him and she couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked in his pirate costume.

His feet and calves were encased in knee-high cuffed leather boots while tight black velvet pants covered his muscular thighs and slim hips. A red silk sash was tied around his waist and the jeweled dagger at his hip added a touch of danger. His oversized white shirt was open to mid chest allowing tantalizing glimpses of hard, muscled flesh beneath. The sleeves were long and full and the cuffs were trimmed in white lace. A gold hoop earring glinted in his left ear.

Luc looked good enough to eat.

Rachel snagged the only open bar seat and slid onto it. When she’d moved to New Orleans several months ago, the Chat had been one of her first stops. Known for good food and stellar accommodations for the preternaturals, the
Chat Noir
was a must-see for both residents and tourists.

Like the restaurant, the bar was packed with both mortals and others like her.

Several werecat males were seated at the bar surrounded by a flock of mortal women.

She grinned. The sexual appetites of the werecats were legendary in the preternatural world and she knew several of those beauties would be very happy women in the morning.

A group of young vampires headed for the noisy darkness of the jazz club in the back of the building. No doubt they were looking for some cool jazz and hot blood, though not necessarily in that order.

“Evening, Rachel.” From behind the bar, Tom, the assistant manager of the bar, offered her a wide smile. He was a big, rangy werecat with thick golden hair, dark brown eyes and a quick, easy smile.

74

One Night Stand

“Good to see you, my friend.” She waved her hand to indicate the crowds. “I could barely get in the door tonight.”

“We’re always packed on Halloween.” He reached for a black china mug that was used to serve their vampire guests. “Would you like your usual?”

“No, I think I will…” she smiled, allowing the tips of her fangs to appear. “Kick it up a bit.”

His golden brow rose. “Are you sure, Rach? You aren’t much of a drinker.”

“I’m on a mission this evening, Tom. Besides, I’m feeling a little adventurous.” She tilted her head, enjoying the unfamiliar feel of her long hair against her back. She almost always kept her hair up in either a ponytail or a twist to keep it out of the way. But not tonight.

He winked. “Your outfit tells me that.”

Rachel’s smile increased. She knew the tight black dress looked like it was painted onto her body. Her breasts threatened to spill from the deep V neckline. The high hemline barely covered the lace tops of her thigh-high stockings and. Her feet would be sore later, but the four-inch spiked heels made her feel sexier, more feminine.

She knew the outfit was hot, but Tom wasn’t talking specifically about her clothing.

Her index finger brushed the slim velvet choker that encircled her neck. The strip of red velvet advertised that she was a vampire on the hunt for a man.

She propped her arms on the bar. “I’ve achieved my goal then.”

“In spades, babe.” Tom leaned toward her and spoke in a low tone that only she would hear. “Do you want cat or wolf?”

She’d thought about this long and hard before leaving her cozy home earlier. The blood selection for the evening was an important one, as ingesting werecat or werewolf blood would achieve two very different purposes.

The wolf blood would hype her nervous system and possibly drive her into a frenzy if she ingested too much, while the werecat blood would do the exact opposite.

Werecat blood would remove any inhibitions she had about enticing Luc into a one-night stand.

Her lips brushed Tom’s cheek and she whispered, “Bring on the kitty.”

A rumble of laughter sounded in her ear. “Your wish is my command.”

Tom turned away to take care of her order. She shifted until she had a good view down the length of the bar. Luc had concluded his conversation and now leaned against the wall just several feet away. His alert gaze moved over the crowd and, while his body was still, she sensed he was ready to spring into action should the need arise.

It was just over a month ago when she’d first seen Luc in the flesh. She’d heard of him, of course, as the vampire community was a close-knit bunch for the most part and they loved nothing more than a good gossip. Several years ago, Luc had been involved in a very high-profile affair with a Russian actress that had ended with her suicide and his sudden disappearance from public life.

75

J.C. Wilder

Rumored to be a French Viscount of old, he’d abandoned his self-imposed seclusion to come to New Orleans and lend a hand to Sinjin, the owner of the
Chat Noir
. Recently engaged, Sinjin and his fiancée, Vivian, had left on a long overdue vacation and Luc was keeping an eye on the place while they were away.

From the moment Rachel had seen him, she could barely take her eyes off the vampire. Drawn by his latent sexuality and air of mystery that surrounded him, she’d become a frequent visitor to the Chat, hanging out just to catch a glimpse of him. Not that he’d ever noticed her. What man would look at a mousy CPA when other, more beautiful, women surrounded him night after night?

None.

She smiled and propped her chin on her palm. Tonight would be different. Tonight, Luc couldn’t overlook her, she’d make sure of it.

According to Tom, Sinjin was scheduled to return within the next day or so and, all too soon, Luc would be leaving New Orleans for parts unknown.

Rachel nibbled on her lower lip. Knowing he was leaving and that she’d never spoken to him—not once—nagged at her. She had only one chance left to find out what it felt like to be in this man’s arms and she was going to grab that opportunity with both hands or make a fool of herself trying.

She wasn’t interested in finding the elusive, happily-ever-after relationship that most women dreamed of. She’d thought she’d found it once long ago and, in the end, she’d lost Wyatt anyway. No, she was interested in Mr. Right Now. One night of unrestrained passion, enough to sustain her through the long, lonely, cold nights that lay ahead. Luc was the obvious choice as he was the first man in forty-three years who had interested her enough to bring her out of her self-imposed celibacy.