Weaving Words

by Knox, Kim

  He stopped. The lamps hanging from hooks outside the stalls washed him with clear, golden light. He looked like his painting, fearsome, bleak, starkly handsome, but there was something in his gaze. Vara had to believe it was a trick cast by the flickering light. “Can you remember your name?”

  What was his game? “You called me Vara.”

  His gaze dropped to the floor and for a moment his shoulders sagged. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  Tarou straightened and the bleakness in his face chilled her. “The king has ordered us to leave. He’s been generous. But the order is that we must remain together. I had thought that wouldn’t be such a hardship, but now…” He winced and rubbed his hands together. “Shall we go, lady?”

  The dagger clattered to the floor and Vara couldn’t move. She stared and tried to believe her own instinct. There, in his face…that wince. “Kaede?”

  Tarou blinked. “Yes?”

  Vara laughed and fell back against the cold wall. Her body started to shake and she couldn’t stop laughing, laughing until the surge of emotion had tears blurring her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and tried to regain some control. Warm hands slid over her arms, drawing her to him, and she clung to the strange body that Kaede now inhabited.

  He smelled of leather, spices and something so familiar that her heart ached. She swallowed, her throat tight and then let out a slow sigh. “You smell like you,” she murmured.

  “Vara…” He pressed his lips to her forehead and the touch seared her soul. “I thought you were gone.”

  Her fingers found the tear in his tunic where the dull blade had struck. She could have killed him. Heat bloomed in her chest and she pressed her body hard against him.

  “It’s all right, Vara. I’m still alive. Just remind me never to get on your bad side.”

  She snorted, pulling back to stare up at him. The shock of seeing Tarou’s face, and of seeing his face smiling, jolted her down to her toes.

  He rubbed at his jaw. “Yes, odd, isn’t it. I saw me and…”

  Horror and disgust tore through Vara, burning her gut. She staggered back. “What the hell was that?”

  The sly smile suited his face and Vara wanted to smack him for his surge of smugness, which twisted through her. “I’m still a witch, Vara. We’re still tied.”

  She forced her mind to focus. “Can this day get anymore confusing? Is anybody still sitting in the flesh they were born in?” She rubbed at the back of her neck. “What happened, Kaede? I was supposed to be…well…you.”

  “I don’t know. I performed the ritual, followed every Word.” There was more, but he cut them out of his thoughts. Vara could feel it, that and the first sharp spike of remembered pain. His hand framed her jaw and the unfamiliar sword calluses prickled her skin. “I think Annaliese played us all from the very beginning. She wanted me bonded with the woman she put in her body.”

  Vara thought back to her obscure conversation with the new king. “Yes. And more.”

  “More?”

  “I’ll tell you when we’re safely away from here.” She looked up at his face and saw that Tarou didn’t live there anymore. There was a softness to his dark gaze that spoke of nothing but Kaede. “What happened to Tarou?”

  “I don’t know that either.” He smiled and the spark of his satisfaction lit her heart. “But this is Annaliese. I’m sure it was something suitable.”

  Vara matched his smile, stood on her toes and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth. “You’re taller.” Her hand snaked down his chest, lower, until she cupped him. She squeezed. “Oh, and bigger.”

  “Vara…”

  His low growl heated her flesh and she grinned at him. “What? I can’t play with my new toy?”

  “Later.” He took her arm and pulled her towards the stable doors. “We survived. Let’s not overstay our welcome.”

  Servants scattered as he pushed open the stable doors. The carriage stood ready, two coachmen already in place.

  “You,” he jabbed a finger at the nearest servant, a young boy, who cowered from him, “get my lady her travelling cloak.”

  The boy shot off into the lodge. Other servants scrambled to open the carriage door and pull down the steps. Vara found herself handed inside and made herself comfortable. Tarou…Kaede…she was still having trouble with fixing exactly who he was in her brain…sat beside her. “Nice impression,” she murmured.

  Kaede gave her a wry smile. “Thank you.”

  Breathless, the boy burst back into the courtyard. He was almost lost under a mound of fur cloaks. “My lord,” he tried to bow as others took his burden from him and passed the cloaks into the carriage. “I didn’t know which one, so I brought them all.”

  “Thank you.”

  The boy blinked and Kaede pulled the carriage door shut. He let out a slow breath and helped her rearrange the wolf fur around her shoulders and across her chest. “Still dressing me?”

  “Undressing you is more fun.”

  Vara smirked at him. “One for you,” she said, throwing a fox-fur cloak across his lap. “So,” she sank back into the deep leather, softened and warmed by fur, “where are we heading?”

  Kaede banged on the roof and the carriage jerked forward. “North.”

  “Suits me. Though can we keep away from the mountains? I don’t want to tangle with a certain clan of wolf-men.” She sighed and pulled the furs tight around her body. “Time to leave all our pasts behind.”

  “Yes, we should.” He gave a final look to the lodge and with it the family who had owned his for over a thousand years. Relief settled in his soul. He found Vara’s hand sliding through the fur to hold his and he returned her strong grip. His mother was avenged and he, he was free.

  He reached up to pull down the hide blind and a light caught his eye through the carriage window.

  A figure stood at the window of Tarou’s study, golden light shrouding him. The young king’s new crown glittered. He lifted a hand in farewell and Kaede was certain he saw a smile lurking.

  “The king…” he murmured.

  Vara leaned over to stare up at the window. Kaede felt her unease, her suspicion. “We both know who that is.”

  “Yes.”

  He saluted the king, pulled down the blind and settled back into the warmth of the furs. Vara’s arm snaked around his waist as she wormed her way closer to his side. He placed a kiss on her hair and she sighed.

  Kaede closed his eyes.

  Yes, they were all free.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Kim Knox, please visit www.kim-knox.co.uk. Send an email to kim@kim-knox.co.uk or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Kim! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/daughtersofcirce/

  Look for these titles by Kim Knox

  Now Available:

  Nimue’s Price

  To Summon a Demon

  7% and Rising

  Buying Mackenzie’s Baby (as Kim Rees)

  Past Lies (as Kim Rees)

  Love is mightier than the sword…

  Dunmore Rising

  © 2008 Gia Dawn

  Demons of Dunmore, book 4.

  Sir Graham Dunmore is looking forward to competing in his first summer tournament—until he gets saddled with babysitting a prince in disguise, three fairy-godmothers he would much rather see fly back to where they came from, and a woman for a squire. Gone for years, Jiliana is now back in Westmyre, older, colder, with a lethal fighting skill that leaves him both impressed and intrigued.

  Jili doesn’t recognize this sleek, well-trained man as the awkward friend from her youth. But seeing Graham again brings back painful memories of a brutal past. One that forces her to live a life of tight control, lest one slip unleash a deadly monster capable of hurting everyone in her path.

  Yet as Graham patiently teaches her the arts of love, Jili has a glimmer of hope that she can finally control the killer that lurks inside her—until a ninja assassin begins to stalk the tournament.


  With a heavy heart, she realizes Graham is going to need every skill she possesses to protect the prince—the very skills that could tear them apart forever.

  Warning: This title contains cranky fairies, a gorgeous hero, and a heroine who just about kicks his ass…plus really sizzling sex told in naughty language.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Dunmore Rising:

  Jiliana trembled when she caught the look of hunger etched across Graham’s face. On another man it would have sent her running for her katana. On another man it would have made her shudder in fear. But Graham’s expression made her want him to wrap her in the strength of his arms and never let her go.

  The temptation was brutal. She couldn’t resist. “If I don’t like it we can stop anytime? You swear?”

  They had played this game before, she remembered with a catch in her heart as she held up her pinkie. Graham encircled it with his own, the huge finger dwarfing hers.

  He nodded solemnly.

  “And I can keep all my clothes on?”

  “Every stitch.”

  She wanted to make some joke, tell some ribald story to break the odd mood that had settled between them, but her mouth would not form the words, her mind refusing to think of anything but how it would feel to have Graham touch her.

  “Done,” she whispered.

  “Done,” Graham repeated. He stretched out beside her on the bed, his head propped on one folded arm, smiling ruefully when she wiped his chest off with a cloth. He studied her for long moments and she grew disconcerted beneath the heavy weight of his gaze.

  As she opened her mouth to protest, he reached out and trailed his fingers across her cheek, letting them linger on the scar that cut across her jaw before tugging on a lock of her hair.

  “Ever been well and truly kissed?” When she shook her head, his grin grew sinful. “Okay then, what an excellent place to start.”

  The tug on her hair grew more insistent, dragging her head toward his. When his mouth connected solidly with hers, Jiliana’s world melted like ice in the sun. The desire she had felt before paled to embers beside the fire that burned inside her now. Graham pulled her beside him, positioning her so that every inch of her body was cradled by every inch of his. His cock swelled against her stomach, giving her a momentary shiver of alarm, but as his lips slid over hers and his hand cupped her chin, she gave herself over to the wonder of it all.

  Until she realized that instead of easing the brutal ache that gripped her body, his kiss was making the agony grow. When she opened her mouth to tell him so in no uncertain terms, he thrust his tongue between her lips, this new invasion wringing a desperate whimper from her throat.

  Jiliana wasn’t stupid, nor had she spent her life locked away in the church. She’d seen people kiss, even watched them couple furtively in dark alleys and shadowed corners, turning away in disgust when her memories pressed too close. But she’d never felt anything that remotely resembled this shock of need that swept up from her stomach. The burn between her legs slammed over her in waves, reaching, waiting, grasping desperately for something she could barely put a name to.

  His tongue teased hers, slid in and back again. Jiliana let her own tongue explore, writhing in a sweep of bliss when Graham sucked it deep into his mouth. They challenged and warred with each other, each strike and parry measured to make the other tremble and shake.

  When he dragged his mouth away, she buried her face in his neck, unwilling to let him see how far she had already fallen. He rolled her over on her back, his breath as harsh and labored as hers. “You learn fast,” he gritted out.

  The pleased sound that bubbled up from her chest ended in a gasp as Graham’s hand closed around her breast. What torture had he devised to torment her with now? When he found her nipple and rolled it gently between his fingers, Jiliana jumped, her cry of need hanging harsh in the air between them.

  “Shhhhhh,” he whispered, pinching harder, making her scream again.

  “Ahhhhhh.” She sucked in her breath as a new madness overtook her. Despite her earlier admonitions, she now wanted to rip off every piece of clothing she wore and feel his skin against hers.

  But he had yet to do the thing he promised. Instead of easing her need, so far he had only driven it higher. The pain shot deep into her body, causing an unfamiliar emptiness.

  “Please, Graham,” she begged, ashamed of the desperation she heard in her tone. “Please.” She ground her hips insistently against his, hoping something would soothe the overwhelming ache.

  One of his hands slid down her stomach to nudge apart her thighs, settling heavy between them. For the briefest instant the old fear rose up, but in the rush of her need, it was quickly forgotten.

  Burrowing his fingers into the folds of her flesh, Graham began to rub a spot that was far more sensitive than the others. “What do they call this in Eastshyre?” he demanded.

  “The g-golden p-p-pearl.” Jiliana’s cries grew louder as he pressed the knot between his fingers, teasing the tender spot until she thought the pain would never end. Deep inside her body the emptiness cried out, the long years of aloneness demanding to be filled. She wiggled against Graham’s hand, praying his touch would soothe her soon.

  She was reaching for something…some place she’d never imagined, and she could feel herself creeping closer to the edge, tottering on the brink, ready to fall, ready to float, but she could not fling herself over the line to the bliss that waited in the other side.

  “Jili.” Graham’s voice was concerned as he drew back to look at her. “’Tis all right to let go. I promise to catch you.” He deepened the pressure between her legs, his fingers finding her cunt and nudging just a bit inside, as far as the material of her hakama would allow.

  Jiliana knew what she wanted. What she had to have to make her pleasure complete. Graham inside her…his fingers parting her body, filling her, taking her. She pulled his face to hers. “This is not enough,” she whimpered against his mouth.

  Graham captured her lips in another kiss as he bent her knee and draped her leg over his. He slid his hand inside one leg of her hakama, the feel of his skin against hers driving her hunger even higher.

  “Is this what you need?” he demanded.

  She nodded, mutely. His hand slid higher, coming to rest just beside the juncture of her thigh. “And this?”

  She nodded again, unable to speak, wanting nothing more than to feel his mouth hard on hers and his fingers thrust inside her. Despite all her earlier cautions and despite her earlier hesitation, she wanted—needed—to feel Graham reach high into her body, soothing the space that waited so ready for his touch.

  “Inside me,” she said. “I want to feel you—” Her words ended in a whimper as Graham nudged a thick finger into her body.

  Ttue love is better than infatuation.

  To Fat and Back

  © 2008 Beverly Rae

  Carrie Flannagan dreams of Michael the Magnificent, the office hunk. He can have his pick of women, and his pick isn’t Carrie, the office chubby. He’s only got eyes for her best friend, Shiloh of the slender, smokin’ hot body.

  When Carrie accidentally-on-purpose breaks Michael’s arm, a self-professed sorceress with a secret agenda of her own gives him a pill to magically heal the bones. That little pill also has an accidental-on-purpose side effect—one that makes him balloon to over three hundred pounds. To Carrie’s surprise and delight, he turns to her for emotional comfort. But those new layers of fat on his body reveal a side of him that wasn’t part of her fantasy.

  Billy Whitman will put up with almost anything to be near to Carrie, even if she sees him only as a blend-into-the-background, dependable friend. Even if it means putting up with her fantasies about Michael, and being the clean-up man as Michael’s life falls apart.

  For now, he’s willing to bide his time, hoping she will someday see the light—the light of love in his eyes.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for To Fat and Back:

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmig
od.” Carrie rushed to Nate as others helped him stand up. Although obviously shaken, he didn’t seem to have any major injuries as the others helped him along the hall toward the elevator.

  Spinning away from Nate, Carrie leaned over the railing and stared at Michael’s crumpled body on the landing below her. Already people rushed to him, offering him their help. What have I done? Why in the world did I do such a horrendous thing? The authorities should lock me away forever. Ohmigod, I’m such a bad, bad person.

  Firm hands gripped her shoulders as she was jostled out of the way of the curious onlookers. “Carrie? Carrie, answer me. Are you all right?”

  At first she thought she couldn’t take her eyes off the prone Michael, as if God had already punished her by making her incapable of movement. But a hard shake, along with a body moving to block her view of her victim, broke her trance and she lifted her gaze to see Billy’s concerned face searching hers. “W-what?”

  He edged closer and tried again. “Carrie Bear, are you all right? You seemed almost comatose.”

  When she tried to shift position to see Michael again, he adjusted with her and kept her from looking. “Let me go. I have to get to him. I have to say I’m sorry. I have to—”

  “No, Carrie. You don’t. I won’t let you.”

  He didn’t understand. How could he? He had no way of knowing what an abominable monster she was. She hadn’t known until a minute ago. “You don’t understand, Billy. I have to. I’m the one—”

  He brought his nose within a centimeter of hers, and whispered hard and low. “I understand. I do. I saw everything.”

  Why does he keep interrupting me? Wait! He saw me? Shame ripped through her and she couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Ohmigod. Then you know what I did. You know how terrible I am.”

  “I know what happened because, yes, I saw it all. Michael wasn’t paying attention and he tripped over his own big feet. Or Nate’s. Either way, it wasn’t your fault.”