Ellora's Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile I

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

Excerpts from: ELLORA’S CAVEMEN:
JEWELS OF THE NILE I

An Excerpt From: EARTHLY PLEASURE

Security lights dimmed by a low-level fog illuminated the courtyard of the business park. At this hour, the businesses were closed, the windows dark and the parking lots empty. Renee Tremaine tightened her grasp on the palm-sized locater unit and picked up her pace. Following the signal emitted by the warrior’s locater beacon, Renee’s heels beat a lone tattoo on the wet concrete.

She’d answered distress calls before, but tonight she was flying solo. Mouth dry and her heart pounding, Renee hurried through the misty fog.

Somewhere in this maze of two-story buildings, a wounded warrior waited, Earthbound and vulnerable. The greenish glow on the locater unit assured Renee she followed the correct path. She passed a service opening between two buildings and the unit flashed purple, then back to green.

Renee stopped, spun to her left and took three steps. The screen changed to a bright purple. Retrieving a penlight from her jacket pocket, she flicked it on and entered the narrow alley. A foul odor assailed her nostrils seconds before the beam of light flashed over a row of dumpsters.

Something to her left moved. The screen flashed, pulsing a deep purple, quick and steady.

“Turn off the light.”

She started and dropped the penlight. It rolled beneath a dumpster. Gulping the cool, night air, Renee displayed her locater unit in the direction of the deep, male voice.

“I’m Prioress Renee, daughter of Zelda, House of Aasi. I offer sanctuary.”

The warrior rose from his hiding place between two dumpsters and stepped toward her. Like the battle-fit celestial soldiers that had come before him, the warrior loomed over her. Renee craned her neck to look up at him.

“I am Itan, son of Rane, House of Tanzer.”

Warriors seeking sanctuary had spoken of the legendary Tanzers always with reverence and often with awe.

“I am honored to serve the House of Tanzer.”

He raised his locater and touched it briefly to hers. A flash of blue shot between the locaters and sent a shock through her hand and racing up her left arm. Wow, that hadn’t happened before.

Identity established, Renee switched off her unit and dropped it into her coat pocket. She looked around. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. We must leave before my blood scent draws the wraiths.”

An Excerpt From: EROTIC SACRIFICE

Are you ready to be mine?

Bronwyn Steele bowed her head as she heard the Dark Lord’s voice echoing in her mind. “Yes, my lord,” she answered. She could feel him on the outermost edges of her consciousness, seeking entrance, but he didn’t intrude. Yet.

Soon. Very soon.

She felt him leave her presence and shuddered. Soon she would be his.

The pull of magic in the air was palpable. Bronwyn could feel it tingling up and down her spine. Urging her on. Calling to the magic that lurked within her, untapped. Her senses were heightened, keyed up. Or perhaps she was just filled with anticipation.

She turned to the mirror and placed a hand on either side of the antique silver frame as she surveyed the transformation that had taken place. She resembled a bride. Not that she would ever get a chance to be a bride. At thirty-five, Bronwyn was rapidly beginning to lose hope of finding someone special to share her life with. The only man who’d ever appealed to her was Gabriel Trueblood, a local business leader, but he hadn’t so much as glanced her way.

Perhaps that was why she’d volunteered for this sacrifice. She would be joined with the Dark Lord this very night, but it had little to do with love and everything to do with lust and magic.

The Carnal Sacrifice.

Bronwyn continued to examine herself in the mirror. She wore a flowing, white sheer dress. Through it, she could see the shape of her body, the silhouette of her rounded hips, large breasts, the pouting, pink crests of her nipples and the thatch of curly hair between her thighs.

Her eyes looked almost liquid, like a black inkwell. Bottomless. Her long blonde hair had been entwined with ivy for luck. She looked more exotic than she usually did. She brought the four-leaf clover necklace she wore to her mouth and kissed it. She needed all the luck she could get. Usually sequestered behind navy blue suits and boring black shoes, she didn’t really stand out from the crowd, but this night was hers to shine.

Tonight she would be given to the Dark Lord, the local demon leader. Every year he demanded a carnal human sacrifice to be used to keep the fragile peace between humans and demons. It was a ritual the inhabitants of Salem, Massachusetts, had performed for centuries, after the Witch Trials.

An Excerpt From: HOT UNDER THE COLLAR

Was it a sin to go to church and lust after the minister? Emma Leeds wondered. Did it make her more or less guilty, to have only begun attending services because the rumbling baritone timbre of Eric Johns’ voice quaked sensually through her body causing moisture to pool between her legs? God had blessed him with the voice. Surely she couldn’t be held responsible for Divine Intervention. The All-Knowing had known exactly how wet Reverend Johns would make her as she squirmed on the hard pew looking for relief.

Emma darted a glance around the congregation. She’d bet hers wasn’t the only new face seen inside the church doors since his arrival two months ago. And judging from the come-hither looks being sent to the pulpit under the blind eye of the senior minister, Emma couldn’t be the only one wishing to rip the black alb off Reverend Johns’ six-foot-four frame. Perhaps even tie him down with one of those ropes the acolytes wore around their waists.

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of the chapel, baptizing him in indigo, scarlet and amber. Reverend Johns lifted his arm into the air for emphasis and pounded the flat of his other hand on the podium. She shivered at the prospect of him spanking her with the same fevered sting. Her gaze roamed each mahogany curlicue under the multicolored attention of the tall windows. His curls shivered with the force of his delivery. Emma couldn’t help but wonder if they would tremble with silken abandon each time he thrust into her pulsing sheath.

Her cheeks heated with her daring. As though he would find her plump form attractive with the abundance of willing women in his congregation. Did Evangelical ministers even have sex? She tipped her head, considering. Were they like priests who weren’t allowed carnal pleasures? The idea of forbidden pleasures with Reverend Johns made her body tingle deliciously.

Emma sighed. At the rate she was going, she’d be lucky to stand close enough to him to discern his eye color. She hadn’t worked up the nerve yet. That would be the same day she worked up the nerve to sit in the front pew without her panties on and see if he noticed her.

An Excerpt From: INCENSED

Fucking was the last thing on Cori’s mind when she drove to Cyril Stratton’s home on that rainy afternoon. In fact, she was so furious, she believed nothing or no one could change her foul mood. The only thing that might appease her was if Stratton did exactly what she wanted him to.

Yes, sex hadn’t even entered her mind during that fateful drive, but like many non-believers, she had no idea of the darkly sensual pleasures that, by moonrise, would change her entire life.

Cori had never heard of such a ridiculous scam. Even worse, she couldn’t believe her younger sister had actually fallen for it. The very idea of a dating service that matched couples according to incense proved that certain people would do anything to make a buck, even prey on those desperate to find love.

Oh, but as her sister reminded her, it wasn’t really a dating service, but some creep with alleged psychic powers enabling him to bring soul mates together. The entire situation made her sick. This weirdo seemed to have everyone brainwashed, even a local reporter who just last year had tried to prove him a fraud. It seemed he’d satisfied everyone he’d matched up, including the damn reporter.

Well, Cori wasn’t so gullible. She intended to confront the man who had ruined her sister’s life and do everything in her power to get his “soul mate service” shut down.

She gripped the steering wheel tightly and turned sharply down the country road that wound through a heavily wooded section of the small New England town. It figured his business would be located in the boondocks. He must have thought it added to his “mystical” image.

The road seemed to go on forever. Finally the woods thinned to acres of grassland scattered with random houses.

“Does everybody around here own a horse?” She wrinkled her nose, glancing at yet another paddock with two chestnut mares nosing lazily around.

Finally she reached the town square. To her left, a green sign told her she’d found the right street. Bullfrog Circle. At the very end, perched on a hill, stood a tall, narrow house painted gray with black shutters. Her lip curled and she shook her head. It looked like a haunted house, with the twisted trees on either side of it and the black iron fence surrounding it.

The gates stood open and several cars were parked in the circular driveway. On the front lawn, a sign with neatly painted black letters read,

Soul Scents

Clients accepted at owner’s discretion.

Aromatherapy and massage.

Gift shop open to the public.

An Excerpt From: MAKING THE MADAM

Merry Winslow balled her hands into fists and stomped down the dusty planked sidewalk, forgetting every lesson in decorum she’d ever learned at Miss Peabody’s Finishing School or in Homer Winslow’s parlor.

Her aunt’s attorney had taken one look at her black widow’s weeds and decided, without ever taking her true measure, she was completely unsuited to the rough life in Cranston, Colorado.

She’d noted his slow perusal of her beaded lace veil, the gold watch pinned to her bosom, the sheen of her fine bombazine dress and polished leather half boots—and the odious man immediately dismissed her as unworthy.

How could he have decided within two minutes of their meeting when her own husband hadn’t known until his mother pointed out all her faults?

Her posture was straight, her clothing immaculate. Had she somehow given him a clue of her unruly, impulsive nature?

When Mr. Regis’ gaze returned to her obscured face, a small obsequious smile curved beneath his thick reddish-brown moustache.

Before he even opened his mouth, Merry sucked in a deep breath, counting slowly, reaching into the verbal pit of venom Mother Winslow bequeathed her. However, she couldn’t think of a single caustic setdown to put the man in his place.

Instead, she’d listened in silence like she always had to Constance Winslow. As the lawyer counted off all the reasons she ought to take one of the offers he presented, her face heated with outrage until, at last, her lamentable temper claimed her tongue.

What followed hadn’t been pretty. Mr. Regis staggered back into his creaking wooden chair, gaping as she towered over him and unleashed her fury.

Her anger blazed hot and quick and left her feeling strangely cleansed of self-doubt and guilt. Before this journey, she’d sold all her husband’s possessions and her mother-in-law’s family heirlooms—had even given away their photographs as a means of purging their disappointment from her life. Yet she hadn’t felt truly free until this moment.

Poor Mr. Regis received the brunt of her pent-up rage. His mouth opened and closed as he sputtered, his eyes bulging.

His expression reminded her of the little black fish she’d kept in a bowl on a table in her parlor. The only pet she’d been allowed to keep.

The attorney had been so shocked he hadn’t stirred at first when she turned on her heel, flung open his office door and headed south along the street, determined to see the property he’d tried so hard to “protect” her from.

An Excerpt From: THE EMISSARY

Shina slowly brushed her fingers over the scarlet and emerald kimono. Green for her virginity and red for the blood she would shed in losing it. She would wear it only once, at her mizuage ceremony, when she would stand before her first patron, the one who had bid the highest at her virginity auction.

After she had entertained him with music and dance, she would remove the jeweled combs from her hair and take off the mizuage kimono. Then her patron, a man she had yet to meet, would take her virginity, turning her from maiko to geiko, from an apprentice courtesan to a genuine courtesan.

She could hardly wait.

“You might as well put that away, because you won’t get a chance to wear it.”

Shina whirled around. Orino, House Edo’s star courtesan, stood in the doorway to Shina’s room, a scowl twisting her pretty face, her manicured hands fisted on her slender hips.

Shina squeezed her kimono. Leave it to Orino to destroy any shred of hope Shina had for her future. Then, realizing what she was doing, she quickly released the kimono, frantically smoothing out the wrinkles.

Orino entered the room. “Did you hear what I said or have you gone deaf?”

From where she knelt on the floor, Shina looked up into Orino’s sullen face. “I heard.”

“Well? What do you have to say about it?”

Shina carefully put the kimono back into her clothing chest.

“I have nothing to say about it,” she said, although that wasn’t true. She just didn’t feel like arguing with Orino this morning.

“I don’t believe you.”

Orino knelt next to Shina, her sapphire eyes glittering maliciously. “Do you know what Mother told me? The men are so busy with maneuvers at the starport or with duties at the Ministry that it could be weeks, even months, before an auction is held for your virginity. And you know what that means,” she finished with a smirk.