Slumber Party, Inc. by BJ McCall

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Excerpts from: ELLORA’S CAVEMEN:
SEASONS OF SEDUCTION IV

An Excerpt From: BEST OF BOTH WORLDS

No one took Melissa seriously, not one single person in her entire life. She was the fun, freewheeling, good-time girl. She was the bubbly blonde who never let life get to her. That was what people expected of her and that was what she delivered.

Still, sometimes it hurt that not one of her friends had ever asked about her childhood. No one ever seemed concerned that life as a foster kid from the age of five might not have been a bucket of margarita mix with the tequila included. But James had asked and James seemed to know exactly—

“Oh my god!” Suddenly Melissa’s thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud, piercing blasts, booming sounds that seemed to shake the walls and tilt the ground under her feet. Seconds later, the door to the dressing room was thrown open. Her stage manager stood on the other side, half her face covered in blood.

“Fucking shit.”

“Mary?”

“Fucking crazy fucking shit, I can’t even describe to—”

Another sharp round of blasts cut Mary off mid-sentence and the air behind her was suddenly alight with rays of blue and white light.

“Run, Melissa, out the back door!”

“What’s wrong, are you—”

Melissa turned just in time to see the fifty-something woman thrown forward into the dressing room by what could only be called a massive explosion.

“Mary!”

She dropped her purse and was running hell-bent for leather before she even had time to process the fact that she was wearing high heels. Even in her sneakers, however, she probably wouldn’t have been able to do much to cushion Mary’s fall. The woman was built like a brick shithouse—another of her second foster father’s favorite sayings.

“Oof.” She hit the ground hard, Mary in a heap on top of her, frighteningly limp and alarmingly heavy. As soon as the breath whooshed back into her lungs, Melissa struggled to ease the other woman off her. She had to get to the phone, had to get help.

If the casino was being invaded by terrorists, she had to let someone know. And she had to get medical attention for her stage manager. Mary had been like a mom to her and the other girls in the Decadence show for the past four years. There was no way that she would leave her here unconscious, at the mercy of whoever was causing the explosions in the hallway.

“Mary! Are you— Melissa? What are you doing in here?”

“James, thank god.” Melissa had never been so glad to see someone in her life.

An Excerpt From: DEATH-SPEAKER

Ali stumbled to a halt, staring at the naked man sprawled facedown across her bed. He was huge, frame almost too large for the queen-sized mattress. His skin was a dark, rich brown, like baker’s chocolate. His skull was shaved bald, gleaming in the fitful light of the moon.

She knew him, though she couldn’t say from where.

Ali wrapped her arms tight around her crumpled clothing, frozen in place. The terror that had chased her from the bathroom was fading rapidly as she stared at the dip of his spine, the smooth curve of his ass. He was warm and familiar and safe somehow, and despite everything that had happened to her, Ali found herself relaxing.

He’d never allow the others to hurt her.

This is insane. She glanced at the still-locked door, then at the open window. Snow was drifting through the fluttering curtains to melt against the rough beige carpet. Her heart rate began to slow and she looked back at the unconscious man.

Moonlight played across the muscles along his back and shoulders. It seemed to caress his skin, gathering in the dips and swells and highlighting the two long, vertical scars slicing from shoulder blade to hip. Ali felt her fingertips itching to touch those scars, and the strange markings on her forearms burned at the sight of his nude body. She licked her lips, overwhelmed by a wash of heat.

Ali snapped her attention to the open window at the sudden flutter of wings, heart leaping to her throat. A white owl hovered just outside the window, wings beating steadily as it stared at her with glittering black eyes. Kokba’el, her mind supplied, and Ali opened her mouth to say the word hovering there on the tip of her tongue. She barely stifled a scream when strong, hot fingers encircled her upper arm. She’d never heard him move.

Ali looked down into impossibly black eyes, heat rising through her body at his firm touch. He had an exotically handsome face, lashes long and dark, eyes tilted at the corners. His lips were full, sensual and faintly parted as he lifted a single finger and pressed it to her mouth.

The touch burned deep into her belly. Her nipples pebbled.

He stood slowly, body moving close to hers. He towered above her, head and shoulders taller than her not-insubstantial height. Ali shivered and thought, Run away, call the cops, but she didn’t move, even when his big hands slid down her shoulders to cup her elbows.

“Do not leave here,” he said, accent thick and foreign. She tried to place it, but it sounded like nothing she had ever heard before. Rich and mellow and seductive. Deep as a lion’s rumble.

An Excerpt From: DIVERTED DESTINY

Tain raised his sword and easily blocked Deon’s parry. “Ha! Thought you had me that time.”

“I’m only playing with you.”

“Playing, hell.” Lowering his sword again, he stopped Deon’s thrust. A hard push on Deon’s sword with his own and his assistant stumbled back two steps. “How’s that for playing?”

“Good move, Tain.”

“Well, I’ve had a few more years of practice than you.”

Another lunge, another parry. Tain spun and advanced on Deon. He welcomed the physical activity, the perspiration covering his body, the rapid beat of his heart. He felt alive when he held his sword, when he heard the clang of metal against metal.

Deon had always been a worthy opponent, one who never gave up despite losing most of the time. Today would be no exception. Tain lifted his sword with both hands, determined to win this round.

A fast turn of Deon’s body, a quick twist of his wrists, and Tain’s sword clattered to the floor.

Deon removed his mask. “You’re off today, Tain.”

Tain looked at his sword lying on the ceramic floor. He wasn’t sure how his assistant had managed to flip it right out of his hands. “Apparently.”

“You need to feed.”

“I’m all right.”

“Don’t try to bullshit me.” He gestured at Tain’s sword. “I can’t do that when you’re one hundred percent. You haven’t fed in almost two weeks. That’s crazy.”

Tain dropped his mask on the floor by his sword. He opened the refrigerator next to the bar and tossed Deon a bottle of water. “I can go weeks without feeding. You know that.”

“But you don’t have to. You can go into town and have a woman any time you want to. Why do you make yourself wait so long?”

Tain removed a bottle of water for himself. Twisting off the cap, he emptied half the bottle with one drink. “I get tired of it, Deon. The games, the coy looks, women pretending they don’t want me when I can smell their desire from twenty feet away.” Crossing to the sectional couch, he sank down in a corner of the soft leather. “I make her come and draw strength from her orgasm. But I wish there could be more.”

Deon sat on the opposite end of the couch. “You’ve been looking for a mate for a long time with no luck.”

Tain sighed heavily. “A woman with the Basharr gene is so rare. I’ve searched for centuries. I could search for another century and not find her.”

“You aren’t giving up.”

“No, I will never give up, but I have to be realistic. I’ve been alone for eight hundred years. The odds are high that I’ll continue to be alone.”

An Excerpt From: SILK

The short trip to her transport allowed Lisin to observe the prisoner. A good-looking badass with a hard, muscled body, Adon would make a fortune as a companion. His dark brown hair fell beyond his broad shoulders, halfway down his tapered back. His waist was slim, his ass firm and his legs long. Far too tempted to touch his inviting flesh, Lisin circled the platform and faced her prisoner.

His eyes were like shards of silver, pale and so penetrating Lisin felt as if her feet were frozen to the spot. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. She moistened her dry lips. How could evil reside within so much perfection? Cefr Max held the worst of the worst, yet Adon had a face worlds would worship.

She could swear his nostrils quivered. How long had it been since he’d filled his lungs with fresh air and the warmth of the sun had touched his skin?

Despite his incarceration, he appeared fit and healthy. The cock dangling between his legs was certainly impressive. She lifted her hand just as Narris hit the brakes.

When the conveyance shuddered to a halt, Lisin reluctantly turned away from Adon.

Lisin activated the transport’s cargo door with the remote control attached to her uniform belt. A loading ramp slid from the transport bay. With slow precision, Narris guided the prisoner platform up the ramp and into the bay. Lisin opened the door to a security cell specially built for Adon.

What was so special about this prisoner that TST would refit a transport? Someone wanted Adon enough to spend an enormous amount of money to get him.

Blaster in hand, the assistant released the platform’s force field. “Prisoner Adon, step down. Do not turn around. Walk into the cell.”

The prisoner lifted his hands from the T-bar, stepped off the platform and entered the solid-walled cell. Shoulders straight and feet slightly parted, the prisoner stood with his back to her. Again, the perfection of his sculpted body touched Lisin in places she wanted to ignore. She reminded herself that Adon wasn’t a companion but a convict.

Lisin pressed her palm to a lock and the thick door sealed with an audible hiss.

Narris holstered his weapon and yanked off his helmet. Sweat trickled down the assistant’s temples.

He guided the prisoner’s platform off the transport and onto the conveyance, turned and gave her a thumbs-up. Before retracting the loading ramp, Lisin removed her helmet and called out. She dare not voice her suspicions.

“Why the helmet?”

The assistant cocked his head slightly. “TST didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“He’s a mindbender. Take care, Captain Silk.”

“Fuck!” Lisin slammed her palm against the ramp’s activation control. No wonder the offered bonus was large enough to purchase a propulsion cycle.

An Excerpt From: TASTE OF HONEY

“How about a dance, cowboy?”

The come-on in that silky voice would tempt a saint, and God knew Jake Manning wasn’t hittin’ the Pearly Gates any time soon. When the scent of expensive perfume drifted over the stink of beer, whiskey and stale smoke, his body stirred against his will. He’d ducked in here to nurse a draft and a heart that had been stomped into a million pieces. The last thing he needed was a sweet-smellin’ woman.

But he couldn’t stop from lifting his gaze off the condensation on his mug, and glancing over his shoulder. Sleek blonde hair. An even sleeker body molded by a tight-fitting tank top and painted-on jeans. The damn high-heeled boots she wore probably cost more than he made in a month. He turned away and chugged his beer, hoping to rinse away the bitter taste of lessons learned the hard way.

The band slid from an upbeat twang to a slow drawl, bringing a few couples out onto the dance floor. Jake pushed away the image of that high-class body pressed up against his. He sure as hell didn’t need that.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and it sizzled like a branding iron. “Dance with me.” Her breath brushed his neck as she tempted him again.

He shifted on the barstool to glare at her. “Lady, why are you pickin’ on me?”

Her smoky gray eyes raked over him, starting with his beat-up cowboy hat and heating him all the way down his faded Wranglers to his scuffed-up boots. Her slick red lips slowly spread into a smile. “You look like you’d be a good dancer.”

Dancer? Did she think he was some wet-behind-the-ears cowpoke? Jake shook his head. “Find some other sucker.”

“Come on,” she said in a voice as slow and sweet as the honey his mama liked to put in her tea. Her hand slid off his shoulder and stroked its way down his arm until she laced her fingers with his. “It’s just one dance.”

Aw hell. Jake pushed back his Stetson as he stepped off the barstool and then followed her onto the dance floor. He’d never been able to resist a taste of honey.

An Excerpt From: WINTER DRAGON

The sting of the arrowhead was barely noticeable to the blue dragon. It plunged into his side, little more than a pinprick, as he raced to get home before the full force of winter arrived.

It was only when the magic began to spread, when he dipped precariously low and nearly caught himself on a tree stripped of its leaves, that he realized something was wrong. By then it was too late.

The claws that could sunder a human into pieces or haul a seta-beast’s carcass to his lair for a feast were numb, useless against the arrow. His wings would soon follow.

Beneath him was familiar territory, a neutral valley that served as a flight-way for all dragons. In front of him and to the right were the imposing cliffs marking the outer boundary of the land the blue dragons laid claim to. In front and to the left was territory claimed by scarlet dragons.

Though it would cost a great chunk of his hoard to get help from the scarlet dragons, he knew there was little choice. The distance to the lair-city he called home was too great and he was rapidly losing the ability to fly.

The dragon lifted his head and stretched out his neck, intending to trumpet his request for assistance. But his vocal cords were frozen, rendered as useless as his sharp talons.

A treetop scraped his belly. Fear skittered through him though he refused to let it form an icy knot in his belly.

His knowledge was vast. It was his true hoard, the thing he valued far more than the gold and gems lining the floor of his private lair. And unlike the majority of his kind, whose interests tended to be limited to the dragon world and the pursuit of treasure, he was a being who thrived on studying everything of the world around him—including elves and humans.

Whether it was a human sorcerer or an elf, whoever had sent the spell arrow into his side would have a tracking spell attached to it and would soon arrive to claim their prize. He would use his knowledge to evade their snare.

The dragon silently grunted as the needles of a pine tree rained down on his wing after striking the branch. He made the decision to land and barely reached a small clearing before he lost all ability to fly.

Cold seeped into him immediately. With the last of his will and strength, the dragon whose most private, self-given fifth name was Aizik, forced the change, gave up the dragon’s form for a human one.

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