More Than a Fantasy (8 page)

“Papa, I won’t be alone. I promise. I’ll be safe and happy, and if you ever need me, I’ll come. But I can’t live in your gilded cage anymore. This life is killing us both.”

He bowed his head.

Mara put her hand on his shoulder. “I promise I’ll be all right.” She hugged him and kissed his cheek, then stepped back and melted away into Tiran’s prismatic embrace.

Together they surged over the sand and out to sea, leaving Thanatos Zander surrounded by his bewildered security guards, tears glistening in his dark eyes.

Tubes of blue paint lay in a semi-circle on the workbench next to Mara’s latest canvas. An arch of ivory sand divided the cerulean sky from the white-capped waves below
,
and the whole scene looked more like a photograph than a painting. Bathed in crystalline rays of light, a man with eyes the color of the sky stood at the edge of the surf, his gaze focused on a point in the distance where the faint outline of a woman’s face seemed to melt into a bank of cumulous clouds.

Mara surveyed her work and decided the scene needed something that she couldn’t see from the back of her
o
ceanside bungalow. Maybe during her usual afternoon stroll along the marina, she’d take a few photographs of the seascape to inspire her.

She glanced at the time. It had been two blissful hours of quiet this afternoon and now it was time to take a walk. She covered her canvas with an oilcloth and wiped her hands on the damp rag that hung from a hook on her easel.

Before she woke the dark-haired toddler sleeping on the couch in the sunroom, she’d have to wash the smell of oil paint from her hands.

As she slipped past him on the way to the kitchen, her baby stirred, stretching his bare toes and blinking sleep
y
eyes at her.

“Mama will be right back, Ty,” she whispered and patted his silky hair as she passed.

When she returned, the boy was fully awake. He grinned and reached up chubby arms to encircle her neck as she bent to lift him off the couch. She took in his powdery scent and the comfort of his sleep-warmed skin as she cradled him against her and rubbed his back.

“Hi!” he said over her shoulder.

“Hi, baby! Ready to go for our walk?” Mara asked.

“No, Mama! See, Daddy?”

Mara laughed. “Yes, Ty. Mama painted Daddy into another of my pictures. Let’s go look.”

She stopped mid-turn. Her heart kicked against her ribs at the sight of the tall, broad-shouldered shape in the doorway that led to the back deck. The man wore jeans and a white shirt, and his eyes were the color of the oceans, the color of Ty’s.

Her knees
nearly buckled
. He hadn’t changed at all from the image in her fantasy, the image she painted as often as she could, whenever she found a way to put him into the seascape fantasy portraits that paid her rent. He was still beautiful and as perfect as he’d been the day he left her on an Aegean beach and returned to his city beneath the sea to face his punishment.

And his son instantly recognized him.

“Hi!” Ty said, waving at their visitor.

“Hello,” Tiran said, a sparkle of moisture in the corners of his eyes. He stepped over the threshold.

Mara walked forward so he could see the face of the beautiful boy he’d given her. “His name is Ty,” she said, and her voice caught. “I was hoping you’d get to meet him one day.”

“I’ve thought of nothing else for two years.”

“How did you find us?”

Tiran smiled at his son and let the boy clutch his large hand in chubby baby fingers. “Poseidon kept tabs on you for me. As soon as I was free to leave the city, I came here. I can never go back.”

“Then you’ll stay here with us, won’t you?” Tears laced Mara’s hopeful laugh.

“I was hoping you would ask.”

“They won’t come to take you away from us, will they?”

“Not this time.” Tiran caressed her face, and she leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill your fantasies that day, Mara. I hope I’ll have a chance to make it up to you.”

She laughed and threw her free arm around his neck, catching both of her men in a desperate hug. “You gave me everything I ever wanted—much more than any fantasy.”

THE END

It looks like human/alien relations are heating up…

HUNTER’S MOON

copyright 2011, Bernadette Gardner

When an inhuman scream silences the night creatures in a Pennsylvania woodland, Alliana Cambridge isn’t afraid. She’s angry. When she goes in search of the source of that tortured sound she expects to find another drunken hunter injured by his own gun.

Instead she finds something indescribable. He’s six feet of sensuous panther-black skin stretched over taut muscle. His green eyes glow with feral intelligence and though she can’t speak his language, Alli knows he’s asking for her help. She watches as his magnificent body heals itself of a vicious gunshot wound and she wonders if he’s come to enslave humans, starting with her.

Of course, she’s probably dreaming. After all, magnificent feline aliens don’t normally roam the woods behind Alli’s home. If he’s still there, in her bed, in the morning...well, she’ll worry about it then.

Enjoy the following excerpt from Bernadette Gardner’s best-selling novella,

HUNTER’S MOON:

Chapter One

The midnight breeze had a cool edge to it that heralded the arrival of autumn. Alliana Cambridge stretched like a cat, luxuriating in the chill that spread over her sweat-soaked skin. She had pushed her body to its limits tonight, and now it was time to rest and enjoy the sweet September air.

Most people told her she was crazy for running so late at night, but she didn’t care. She craved the solitude of the woods during a full moon. The old dirt access road that skirted her property was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Perhaps she was crazy. She had no fear of the denizens of the Pennsylvania forests. It was the inhabitants of the towns and cities she preferred to avoid.

She stretched again, bending backward and forward at the waist to release the tension in her lower back. Silently, she counted down from ten to slow her breathing from a heated pant.

Enough for tonight, she decided. She was already halfway back to the farmhouse. The long walk from here would do her good, allow her to work any remaining kinks out of her muscles. There was no point in exhausting herself.

Alliana’s slim shadow preceded her over the ruts that scored the drought-cracked road. It hadn’t rained in a month, and the tall grass on either side of the road was tinderbox dry. That gave her pause. There was more to fear from a sudden fire than from anything living in the woods. On the up side, the wind that stirred the grass created a silvery whisper as soft as a lover’s caress. The sound soothed her and, for a short time, chased away the insistent worry she lived with.

After a few minutes, Alli found her rhythm, and the walk became a lanky sprint. It was hard to slow down sometimes. All that pent up energy had to go somewhere before she could fall asleep. And with no man around...

Well, she was a damn sight better off alone in that department. End of discussion.

Pick another topic to think about, Alli
.

The light of September’s full moon was so bright, it hurt her eyes when she turned to look. The laughing face of the man up there winked at her, and she winked back before picking up speed once more.

God, she loved moonlight. It made everything look surreal and metallic, as if it were sculpted of platinum.

When the crack of a gunshot broke the silence, Alli tripped. She cursed as she regained her equilibrium, and her heart began to thud.

“Idiots!” She didn’t care that her voice would echo over the rise. The hunters who crawled all over the mountainside were so stupid sometimes. Hunting at night was asinine, but nothing stopped them. There were more accidents every year, and most of them were well deserved. The thought made her feel guilty, but it was how she felt.

Ah, well. She’d mention it to the police chief the next time she ran into him. Ben Walters was a nice enough guy. He’d listen to her complaint, admonish her again for wandering around her own property alone in the dark, and walk away feeling like he’d done his civic duty.

Men.

Troublesome as they were, she could certainly use one for a few hours right about now.

Stop it. Move on. Get over it. Smell that air! What a gorgeous night!

Walking wasn’t going to cut it and neither was a light jog. She picked up the pace in an effort to pound the fever out of her blood. She’d managed five years without a man. She didn’t need one now. There were plenty of other ways to release pent up tension.

Damn!
Listening to gunshots in the distance wasn’t one of them. Nor was hearing the sound that followed the second shot. The scream of pain echoed across the tree-covered slope that rose behind her. It stopped Alliana like a brick wall.

Some fool had gone and gotten himself shot again.
Christ! When will these guys learn that a six-pack and a loaded rifle don’t mix?

She catapulted herself through the garden gate and into the mudroom of the farmhouse and grabbed the flashlight and first aid kit she kept there. Not that a band-aid would do much good if someone was shot, but it was the best she had.

She pivoted back out the door and ran once more along the access road and up the slope toward the dense trees. Instinctively she headed toward the ridge where her property ended. Above it there were several blinds in the woods. That’s where the hunters normally hung out, drinking and cussing until some poor creature wandered close enough for them to wound it. She cursed as she ran. This was the last thing she needed tonight.

Alli squeezed the long, hard shaft of the flashlight a little tighter when she heard the sound. The low moan ended in a growl that sounded faintly inhuman. She had never been shot, but she imagined the pain could make a person sound more like an animal.

Nevertheless, she raised the flashlight like a club as she crossed the board bridge that spanned the creek. The grasses were thick here, and the wind had picked up, making them rustle. The sound was no longer soothing.

Alli stopped and listened to the night to get her bearings. Something moved to her left. The half groan-half growl came again and rooted her to the spot. Her heart slammed into her ribs, and the sweat that trickled between her breasts went ice cold in an instant. Someone was coming through the reeds next to the creek.

Run.

The voice in her head that governed the self-preservation instinct had been silent for a long time. Mute when she needed it most, her subconscious had been nothing more than an impassive bystander while her ex-husband took out his every frustration on her. Three years of marriage had passed and it hadn’t made a sound. When it had finally woken up, it rallied her into such a frenzy that she’d nearly killed him. She’d hit him so hard and so many times that he didn’t get up. But as much as he deserved it, she still regretted letting the voice in her head have so much power.

It was that reason that made her ignore it now.

Run.

Of course that might be the wise thing to do. Go back home, call Ben—he was always on duty at midnight—and tell him what was going on in her woods. But someone was hurt. Drunk stupid bastard or not, she couldn’t let someone bleed to death while she ran like a wimp and cowered in the bedroom closet.

“Who’s there?” She squinted into the dense growth ahead of her. “Are you hurt?”

Alli raised the flashlight high just as a figure stumbled out of the reeds. She fought the urge to scream.

He was over six feet tall, black as midnight and nearly naked. Blood poured across his well-muscled chest, and he let out another of those low, inhuman moans as he advanced on Alli, one clawed hand outstretched. His lips were drawn back against sharp white teeth and his feral eyes blazed a luminous green. He hissed at her once then fell at her feet.

You can find HUNTER’S MOON at Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Hunters-Moon-ebook/dp/B004OL2XII/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1336258945&sr=8-1

As the alter ego of multi-published author Jennifer Colgan, Bernadette Gardner considers herself the darker reflection of a mild-mannered paranormal romance author.

To learn more about Bernadette’s books visit her website:

http://www.bernadettegardner.com
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Jennifer’s website:

http://www.jennifercolgan.com
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