Unnatural Calamities (24 page)

Resisting alien invaders is easy. Protecting her heart is another story…

Taken Unaware

© 2009 Summer Devon

Leah’s plans for the weekend didn’t include dealing with an alien invasion in her kitchen. But there’s something about the wary, vulnerable, refugee half-breed Gabriel that compels her to hide him when the authorities come knocking on her door.

Gabriel has good reason to be suspicious of both humans and his own kind alike. He’s a halfling—half human, half Dar—the product of a breeding program undertaken for one purpose. To use the offspring’s inbred powers to influence humans on a deeply emotional level. So deep, they won’t know until too late that the Dar have gained more than a toehold on Earth.

Raised in subhuman conditions, all Gabriel knows of life is how to endure it. Then Leah opens his eyes to a life richer than any he’s ever known. Suddenly he’s not so sure he wants to be a pawn in the Dar’s non-violent, but no less insidious, plans.

Leah and Gabriel go on the run to seek help from the government, only to discover the invasion’s tentacles have gotten there ahead of them. In the final confrontation, the bond Leah and Gabriel have forged may be more than an emotional haven. It could save her world.

Warning: Contains explicit sex, alien encounters

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Taken Unaware:

“No aliens in the headlines.” Clutching the newspaper and her coffee mug, Leah settled on the sofa next to the cat, Fluke, that ignored her.

She’d already performed her new ritual of checking reliable Internet news sites. Now she shook open the paper and began a search inside. Two weeks later, and still not a word about the rumors she’d heard at the bar. Good. Maybe the two soldiers from the base were just trying to scare her with their stories. The Dar targeting a town in Wisconsin? They’d be smarter to aim for Florida this time of year.

“How about it? You think there’s a cover up?” she asked Fluke. “Time to stock up on milk and toilet paper? Maybe hide in the basement?”

Every few years, tabloids screamed They’re Back! Even those covers with the blurry pictures were enough to send some people rushing for their rifles.

Leah abandoned the search for stories about space invasions and conspiracy theories and turned to the comics. Sipping her coffee, she decided not to move for at least two hours. Pure, lovely laziness in her favorite room.

As if he could read her mind, Fluke stood and shook himself. He batted at her arm with an imperious paw.

She frowned at him over the top of the paper. “Learn to use the box, dammit.”

He jumped from the couch and strolled to the kitchen, meowing the whole way. Leah put down her paper and coffee and followed him.

She opened the door and nudged his backside with her foot. “I’ve ordered a boring birthday, Fluke. I don’t need a present from you so don’t bring me any mice. The last one just about gave me a heart attack.”

He sauntered out into the bright morning air and within a minute discovered something more heart-pounding than a mouse.

One of the massive trucks rumbled up the road. Hide.

Halbrut dived behind the bushes next to the small yellow house.

As the roar of the truck died away, someone in the house opened a door, and almost immediately an animal came trotting over to his hiding place.

A cat.

It stopped dead when it spotted him. The creature’s back humped up and it inched sideways, muttering and then hissing.

Halbrut hunkered lower when he heard footsteps.

“What’ve you got? Not another skunk, Fluke, please, no.” The woman’s voice was too near.

A second later her face appeared over him. Her eyes went wide.

“Oh my Go—” the woman shrieked.

By then he was out of the bushes and on her.

“Hush, please,” Halbrut urged as he grabbed her and covered her mouth. The neighbors wouldn’t see but perhaps they’d hear her. He pinned her back against his chest.

The cat hissed again.

He paused, and with his hand clamped over her face, his other arm wrapped around her arms and slender middle, he couldn’t help remarking, “That’s a strange thing the cat’s do—Ouch.” The woman had stamped down hard on his foot. The boots he’d been issued protected him, but he was startled. Not enough to let go of her.

Any moment the big vehicle would cruise by again, looking for him and the others from his group, no doubt. He wasn’t going to stick around and flag it down.

The door to the yellow house lay wide open so he dragged the struggling woman inside. “Listen,” he murmured in her ear as he pulled her through the door, slamming his elbow on the doorjamb. “I’m sorry you’re scared. But I can’t let you scream, right? I’m, ah, waiting for friends.”

The cat skittered past his legs into the house again.

The woman’s mouth moved against his hand and her warm tongue thrust against the chilled skin of his palm. His body’s response disgusted him. He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

An enraged muffled snort emerged from her. After he slammed the door shut he removed his hand from her face—though he kept a firm grip on her arm to keep her from running off.

She didn’t scream, thank goodness. For a moment she glared at him, breathing hard. Her brow furrowed. “You’re full of bullshit.” Her voice shook but she managed to project an air of anger rather than fear. “What do you mean you’re waiting for friends? Behind my bushes?” With a twist she tried to yank her arm from his grip. Not even close to successful. He’d inherited his sire’s strength.

He motioned at a chair at the small kitchen table. “If I let go of you, will you just sit down? And allow me to explain.”

Still staring at him as if she wished she could kill him with her eyes, she dropped down onto the wooden chair.

He didn’t want to sit. Exhaustion might claim him. So instead he loomed over her, examining her angry face, trying to think of a reasonable explanation. Nothing came to him.

“Well?” She tilted her head and the sunlight through the window caught the high cheekbones, the deep red shades in her dark hair and her green eyes that didn’t contain a hint of familiar gold. Her hand scrubbed at her mouth as if trying to remove some disgusting substance he’d left there with his hand.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said faintly.

“Like what?”

“I’m a raw piece of meat and you’re a wolf.”

He answered without thinking. “I am hungry.”

He’d suspected the phrase was a double entendre—and her shiver confirmed it. “What are you anyway? A Peeping Tom?” She sounded less belligerent now.

“A peeping what?”

She gave a noise that might have been a moan, low, deep and, to his ears, thoroughly arousing. Once again, he remembered he hadn’t had a female in a very long time.

But his simple question about the peeping something had changed her somehow. Now she meekly clasped her fingers together and rested them on the tabletop. Those fingers trembled.

“I guess you don’t have to tell me why you were hiding out front. I don’t need to know.” She spoke hesitantly as if she didn’t want to make him angry. That was probably for the best, having her fear him. That would be the right response, if she knew who he was. Or what he was.

He didn’t want her too terrified, so he sat in a chair near her. “I was actually playing a joke on my friend,” he lied.

She shook her head. And, surprisingly, she leaned close to him. Her heat warmed his chilled body and he could smell her musky, exotic human fragrance.

Just as he decided he liked the scent, she gave another of her odd growls. Her eyes opened wide. “You smell like it. Cinnamon.” Her fair skin went even paler. “God. You’re one of them. Oh. No, no,” she whispered. “But it’s true.”

She jumped up so quickly the chair fell with a thud.

She started for the door.

As she brushed him, Halbrut grabbed her again, pulling at her until she tumbled onto his lap. While he held her tight against him, his arms forming bands around her body, he made idiotic, soothing noises. “It’s fine, no, don’t struggle. It’s fine.” But she was clearly not convinced. She twisted on his lap and her feet flailed hard against his shins. Leaning sideways, she managed to pull her arm from his grasp. With her free hand she clawed at his cheek and the arm he put up to protect his face.

Suddenly her attack stopped. She lifted her hand again only to point at his wrist. Blood oozed from a scratch she’d made. “Red… You can’t be one of them.”

He’d heard strange fiction that the Dar had green ichor in their veins. He examined the blood on his arm and considered lying. He’d tell her that no, he had no connection to Dar, that he was a human vagrant passing through. He could leave with a goodbye and an apology that he’d frightened and inconvenienced her.

He let go of her. But instead of getting up, she shifted sideways on his lap. He didn’t object. Not at all. She hesitantly touched his dark hair and stared hard into his eyes. Her weight on his legs, their locked silent gaze, made him feel more alive than he had in a very long time.

When she breathed out, the soft warm air washed over his face. She gave a quiet whimper. “Jesus. You’ve got the ring of gold in your eyes.”

Ah. He should have pushed her away but he’d done it again. He’d hoped she stared into his eyes because she wanted him. That was twice he’d mistaken her actions. When she’d leaned close to catch his scent and now when their gaze locked. He wished there was some way to turn off his extreme response to her so he could think with his brain.

“What are you?” she whispered.

If any man wants more than a dance with her, they’ll have to get past him…

Brand New Me

© 2010 Meg Benjamin

Konigsberg, Texas, Book 5

Deirdre Brandenburg has an MBA and a dream to become the coffee supplier for Konigsburg’s growing restaurant industry. What she doesn’t have is money, courtesy of her billionaire father’s scheme to make her come home. All she needs is three months until her trust fund kicks in. Until then, she needs a job.

Hiring the new girl next door is a no-brainer for ex-gambler Tom Ames. He’s already succeeded in making his bar, The Faro, a growing tourist draw. Deirdre’s beauty will pull in the locals—particularly every red-blooded male in the Hill Country. As he watches her transform from tentative business wonk to confident, sassy barmaid, he realizes he wants first crack at her heart.

When Big John Brandenburg sends Deirdre’s ex-boyfriend to drag her home, the plan backfires, leaving Tom’s bar in shambles and Deirdre kidnapped by a band of loony Texas secessionists.

Things are looking pretty bleak—except the good people of Konigsburg have no intention of giving Deirdre up, either. Even if it takes every Faro employee, every last Toleffson, and one cranky iguana to give the honky-tonk lovebirds a chance at forever.

Warning: Contains dirty dancing, hot summer sex, a honky-tonk makeover, and one nippy iguana.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Brand New Me:

A large part of the Saturday-night crowd stayed both inside and outside the Faro until the official closing time of two in the morning. Tom and Chico circulated among the remaining diehards, moving them relentlessly toward the door, while Deirdre and the other barmaids cleaned off tables and stacked glasses for Leon to run through the dishwasher. The empty bottles were tossed back into the cardboard cases, ready for recycling. All in all, it looked like a very successful night, at least as far as Deirdre could tell.

Part of her wanted to slip out the door before Tom noticed and head back to her apartment. After that dance, she wasn’t sure what she could say to him. More seriously, she wasn’t sure she could casually walk down the street beside him as if nothing had happened.

Apparently, from his point of view, nothing had. He was still acting the same way he always did, joking with Harry and Chico, listening to Sylvia’s complaints with a certain glazed patience, bagging up the most visible trash so that the restaurant could open at noon tomorrow, even though Leon didn’t come in until Sunday afternoon. For him, it seemed to have been a quick turn around the dance floor and then back to business. Nothing special.

Deirdre, on the other hand, felt as if her world had tipped on its axis. She wasn’t sure how long it would take her to return to an even keel, but she knew she wasn’t there yet. And walking anywhere alone with Tom Ames wasn’t likely to make that equalizing any easier. Finally, she leaned behind the bar and retrieved her purse, hoping she could get to the door while he was stacking chairs.

He was at her side in an instant. “Hang on a minute. I’m almost through.”

She thought about telling him she could walk herself home, as she’d told him every night, hoping this time he’d take her at her word. But she figured it was probably a lost cause. At this point telling him not to bother was more a formality than anything else.

Guts up, Deirdre. Time to put on your big girl panties.

“I’m walking Deirdre home,” he called to Chico, then started toward the door.

She caught a quick look at Sylvia’s face. Her eyes and mouth had narrowed as if she’d just tasted an unripe persimmon.

“Why don’t you or Chico walk Sylvia home?” she asked.

Tom blinked at her, then he shrugged. “She drives to work. I think she lives closer to Johnson City. Chico keeps an eye on the parking lot.”

Deirdre’s face felt warm in the darkness. Geez, shouldn’t she be too old to blush now? “Oh.”

Somewhere in the distance, the muffled roar of a motorcycle rumbled out of town, probably heading off toward one of the campgrounds back in the hills. Other than that, Main seemed more silent than usual, with everything closed down except a distant Stop and Go. Briefly, Deirdre pictured the streets outside her condo in Houston. She didn’t think she’d ever seen them empty, even at two a.m.
Different world, Deirdre.

Tom grinned lazily as they strolled up the street. “Another good night,” he mused, finally.

“Did we have more people than usual, or is that what you expected?”