Fighting Fate: Book 2 of the Warrior Chronicles (37 page)

“Don’t you think it’s about time you tell me what your tattoos mean?”

Jesse took her hand in his, ran his tongue along her lifeline then set her hand on his hip. “This is the phoenix rising up from the ashes. When my mother was killed, my world burned. Then fate brought me a second mother who lifted me from the flames. This reminds me where I’ve been and where I am.”

He saw tears swell in Taryn’s blue-green eyes and he kissed her gently. “Don’t be sad for me. I’m not. Everything from birth to now has made me who and what I am. I am happy now, here with you.”

Taryn’s lips curled in a Mona Lisa smile and Jesse knew with certainty that more true words had never been spoken. He was happy with himself and with her. That frightened, angry little boy no longer lived inside him. The man he was with Taryn had banished that specter, leaving only love and tenderness in its place.

Taryn’s hand moved to the larger kanji on the back of his shoulder. “And this?” She asked, running her tongue over each form. Jesse groaned and rolled so she was straddling him, enjoying her laugh and the way her eyes sparkled with love and naughty sensuality.

“That is Sensei’s favorite saying and my personal motto.” When he didn’t continue, Taryn tried to bite him. “Okay, okay. Stop baring those lovely teeth at me.”

“Then tell me.”

“It says: ‘
Seven times down. Eight times up.’
It means no matter how many times I fall on my ass, I have to get up, dust myself off, and try again.”

She wiggled her eyebrows at him, making him grin. “And such a lovely ass it is.”

“Thank you, milady. May I say that it pales in compassion to your lovely globes.” Taryn moved to hit him, she was so sensitive over what she thought of as more cheek than her due, that he loved to tease her about it. He slapped both hands around her, moving her where he wanted her, feeling her wet heat.

She lowered her mouth and traced the smaller kanji above his heart. “What does this say?”

Jesse sobered. He’d never told another living soul what this tattoo meant to him. “Roughly translated it says:
Without Love there is no Life.

Taryn’s breath caught. She looked at him with those big eyes that never ceased to slay his heart and unblinkingly she guided him into her. When he was well and truly sheathed the woman who owned his heart closed her eyes and uttered one word.

“Amen.”

Epilogue

Merlin planted his acorns with enough room for growth outside Jesse’s topiary garden. Over the years wild roses grew guarding their trunks, offering the wild creatures a place of respite and peace. The oaks grew mighty and produced several generations of their own acorns which became an oak grove.

Years turned to decades, decades to centuries. As Taryn and Jesse’s children grew and their great-grandchildren’s children grew, Merlin kept careful vigil, watching, guiding, keeping the magic in their hearts alive, helping these progeny of The Bringer of the Light bring that light and a little magic into the human world.

Merlin smiled knowing lineal time was but a construct devised by man and did not apply to wizards and Those Who Bring the Light or those, like you, who are charged with sharing it.

Continue reading for a sampling of other works by Leigh Morgan, followed by samples from other local romance writers.

coming soon:

DEFENDING DESTINY

BOOK 3 OF THE DOJO CHRONICLES

by Leigh Morgan

CHAPTER ONE

Daisy P. Mohr-Bennett gazed at her flamboyant purple toenails from the inflatable peacock raft she was reclining in. Just south of her toes was the most gloriously handsome man she’d ever set eyes on. Unfortunately, he was naked and surrounded by girls ten years younger and three bra sizes larger than her. Why did she have to room next to her camera man? At least the pool was private and shared only by the residents of the overpriced suites, which numbered exactly two. Hers, and currently naked Gerry’s. But for herself, her suite was empty. His had a steady stream of women.

Gerry Butler, camera man extraordinaire, and all around man you’d love to wake up with in the morning, shot up from the pool, showing off a chest Chris Helmsworth would be proud of. Gerry was no Thor, but he was a god in his own mind, and in the minds of the Bobbsey triplets he left floating in the pool. He walked to Daisy’s end of the pool and jumped in beside her, splashing her e-reader with chlorinated water. Thank god she’d thought ahead and put it in a ziploc bag before she entered the pool.

“Wanna go somewhere more private?”

Daisy wiped off her reader with the small towel around her neck. “A party of five is three too many for me, Gerry.” Daisy knew Gerry wore his nakedness like armor. He was never serious about any of his sex-capades, which was just one of the reasons she rebuffed his advances. His blatant Bohemian side didn’t bother him, and most of the time it didn’t bother her either, but his nudity was much better kept at a distance.

Gerry paddled her to the edge, set her reader on the closest chaise lounge, then flipped her into the water so quickly she came up sputtering, feeling like she’d swallowed half the pool in the process. As soon as she broke the surface, Gerry had her in his arms, plastered against his slick skin. By necessity, Daisy held onto his neck with one arm as she pulled a mass of heavy wet hair from her eyes.

“There’s only two of us here now, darlin. How about riding the waves awhile with me?” Gerry’s rich voice rumbled through her, making her shiver. He was thick and semi-hard where he brushed her inner thigh, her skimpy bikini bottoms so staid and downright sedate ten seconds ago, provided no barrier to his heat. Heaven help her, her body responded even though her mind had no intention of following through.

Her nipples hardened. Her core started to melt and a groan that sounded a lot more like pleasure than irritation escaped her. She closed her eyes, blocking out Gerry’s pleased grin. When she opened them again the first thing she saw after the blinding white of Gerry’s perfect movie-star teeth was a pair of widely spread oil tanned black engineers boots covered by well frayed pale blue jeans.

She knew those boots. She knew that stance. She knew that disapproving voice.

“Get out of the pool, Daisy.”

She didn’t move. She didn’t look up into what she knew would be disapproving gray eyes.

“Now.” His tone brooked no argument. He sounded like a man who had every right to tell her what to do. That made her wrap her other arm around Gerry’s neck and kiss him like she meant it.

The second her lips touched Gerry’s, she was lifted up and out of the water by incredibly strong hands under her arms and placed unceremoniously on her feet safely away from him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Daisy threw the words at him. He tossed them right back.

“Getting you.”

Daisy stared at the man she hadn’t seen in over a year, feeling a wash of emotion, the strongest of which she didn’t acknowledge. She settled instead for what she hoped was a cool calm she’d grown somewhat adept at faking. He ran his eyes over her slowly, taking in all of her charms. His gaze lingered awhile at the skimpy pieces of fabric that tied at her hips and barely covered her bottom. When he reached her breasts, and the tiny triangles that covered them, showing the contours of her nipples, his nostrils flared and his mouth turned down in an expression that looked like contempt.

How dare he look at me like that?

Daisy’s chin shot up at the same time a towel hit her in the face. “Cover yourself.”

She wiped her face then tossed the towel in the pool. “Nice to see you too, Magnus. How’s the family?”

“Don’t push me, Daisy.”

Gerry pulled himself out of the pool in one fluid motion. He was so full of strength and grace, Daisy had to admire him. He didn’t care if some strange man saw him in his glory.

“What’s the problem, Daiz?” he asked, looking not at her but at Magnus.

The bored look on Magnus’s face, combined with his coiled but relaxed stance, told Daisy if she didn’t do what Magnus wanted, and fast, bad things were going to happen. Gerry was a lot of things, but he didn’t deserve to be Magnus’s punching bag for the evening.

“There’s no problem, Gerry. Magnus is an old…
friend of the family.
”

Gerry turned to look at her, trying to judge if she was telling the truth. Daisy could have kissed him for real for that. Gerry did have a heart and a conscience inside his lothario’s body. She smiled at him, a real smile. “I’ll be fine. Magnus obviously needs to talk to me.”

Magnus turned and walked toward her hotel suite, not bothering to look at her when he said. “I’ll meet you inside. Don’t make me come back out here to get you.”

Daisy stared after him. “Arrogant bastard.” She said, under her breath.

“Who was that?” Gerry asked, looking more inquisitive than judgmental.

“The man I left at the alter ten years ago.”

Gerry laughed and Daisy watched Magnus’s back stiffen. “No wonder he’s pissed.”

Daisy sighed, her shoulders falling with her mood. “You have no idea.”

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SECOND CHANCES

by Leigh Morgan

CHAPTER ONE

There were two of them lounging in his bathtub, immersed in what appeared to be copious amounts of spaghetti. He was going to kill the concierge, or who ever let Bimbo and Bimbet into his suite. The thought that the hotel was going to have a hell of a time getting vats of pasta out of the oversized Jacuzzi assuaged some of his anger, but just some.

Leaning against the door jamb, Ramsey Macleod crossed his arms over his chest and threw both women his trademark grin. He knew it didn’t reach his eyes, it rarely did these days. Bimbo and Bimbet didn’t seem to notice, if they had they’d be halfway down the hall by now given his reputation for trashing hotel rooms when he was unhappy. A reputation that he’d earned ten years ago and had yet to live down.

Ram hit the button on his pager summoning his head of security, so he didn’t need to be the hardass. Stark would take over that role soon enough. He’d learned long ago not to handle any issue himself that Ben Stark could handle for him. Stark was simply better at getting rid of trouble, not to mention more polite.

“I didn’t think you were into sharing, Becca. You never were before.” Ram raised an eyebrow at the raven haired woman he’d dated far too long.

“I had to do something to get your attention. You haven’t been taking my calls.” Her affected sultriness grated, making Ram’s jaw tighten.

“You’ve got my attention now. What was it about ‘have a good life’ you didn’t understand? I thought I made myself pretty clear. I expected our last meeting to be our last meeting. Ever.”

Becca shook her full mane of ink black hair and shot him a wounded expression he knew from experience was totally false. The woman just didn’t do wounded.

“You know you didn’t mean that. Besides, I’ve changed my mind. I think we should get married. I can be faithful, Ram.” She batted her thick eyelashes at him and her tone deepened again. “The two of us were good together. Stunning, even. All the tabloids said so.”

Ram would have laughed, but he was afraid Becca would take it as an invitation to take this farce to the next level, something he didn’t have the stomach or the patience for. Where the hell was Stark?

“This is your idea of being faithful?”

“Of course.” Becca smiled and leaned over to give her blond counterpart an open-mouthed kiss. “I didn’t touch her, at least not before you got here. We were waiting for you.”

Ram just turned and walked away.

Stark let himself in and met Ram’s gaze without a word. Ram nodded toward the bathroom and before he knew it Stark was ushering two starched and toweled women from his room. One befuddled. “Don’t you like girls Ram?” And one irate. “I’ll get you for this Ramsey.” Stark handled them both with respect and the quiet authority he was known for.

Five years ago Ram would have been flattered by Becca’s impromptu appearance. Hell, ten years ago he would have taken a nose dive into that tub and come up with a blond in one hand and brunette in the other. He had done exactly that after his first U.S. tour. Since he was only twenty at the time he didn’t beat himself up about it. That was then. Now he was older and if not wiser, at least he was more discriminating.

Becca had obviously heard about some of his more seedy escapades and tried to recreate a moment he wasn’t exactly sorry he’d experienced, but didn’t want to experience again. She must have been desperate. She didn’t lean toward women in his experience. Plenty of men, but never women.

It was moments like these that had Ram rethinking the path he’d cleared for himself twelve years ago when he’d laid down his first hit. It was a good path then. Now he wanted a real life, with a family that consisted of more than anorexic super models and burned-out roadies.

Ram knew he was whining. He’d gotten everything he thought he’d wanted. Fortune and fame just weren’t all they were cracked up to be. He’d trade both for a wife who loved him for the man he was now, not because of his wealth and fame. The Beatles had sure gotten it right. Money couldn’t buy him love.

Ramsey pulled out his cell and speed dialed his manager. “Frank, find out whoever is responsible for letting Becca into my suite. I want them gone. If you knew about this, pack your bags. Stark will cut you a severance check. Cancel the rest of the tour, Frank. I’m done.”

Ram listened to the sputtering on the other end of the phone with half an ear. He didn’t really care if cancelling the next show trashed the band, he was looking to go solo anyway. This little event just gave him an excuse to disappear for awhile.