Secret Fantasies

by Elizabeth Lapthorne

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Secret Fantasies

  ISBN # 9781419908996

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Secret Fantasies Copyright© 2007 Elizabeth Lapthorne.

  Edited by Sue-Ellen Gower.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication: January 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  S – ENSUOUS

  E – ROTIC

  X - TREME

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated S-ensuous.

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Montague Vampires:

  Secret Fantasies

  Elizabeth Lapthorne

  Lovingly dedicated to my baby brother—told you I’d make you super important.

  This one is also for Candie—I will happily flash a pub full of bikers with you any day, darling (even if we didn’t bet on having the pics to prove it).

  Keep smiling, babe. Life isn’t that bad, now is it?

  Chapter One

  An ordinary lodging in the middle of the city

  Phoebe woke suddenly from her deep sleep, her eyes snapping wide open in the darkness of her sleeping chamber. She blinked a few times, trying hard but unable to picture or recall anything at all about the dream she’d been having.

  After a moment or two of struggling to bring back details of the decadent fantasy, she turned onto her other side, admitting defeat. Her expensive bed and luxurious sheets rustled softly as her body moved around, searching for a more comfortable position.

  Phoebe sighed and shivered in the cold, and pulled the coverings up closer around her chin. The chill was not from the climate-controlled room, but more from the almost overwhelming sense of being alone.

  The darkness of the night surrounded her so she could no longer keep up her façade. Phoebe felt all her repressed loneliness come crashing down around her. It had been months since she had shared her large bed with another person, relaxed and felt the warmth of a large male body sliding next to her.

  Phoebe took a deep breath, held it, counted, and then slowly released it again. She forced her mind to focus on more pleasant thoughts than the hollow darkness of her room and bed. She felt her body begin to relax as fuzzy, half-formed memories flitted across her mind, of past lovers, of past sexual encounters.

  Back then, when she constantly entertained a string of lovers to keep the loneliness and chill of the long nights away, she hadn’t even noticed these dark, solitary hours pass her by.

  Phoebe made a face into her pillow as she realized those days had almost certainly passed. The evenings of having one man after another parade through her bedroom and her life but never her heart, had been a number of years ago. She gave up on having such a string of men when she realized and finally admitted to herself she felt just as cold and alone after the sex with these men as she did right now.

  Refusing to dwell on her single state, Phoebe let her mind wander once again.

  She was now considered past her prime for a merc at age thirty-four. She felt a pang inside her chest when she realized a small part of her sadness could well be due to the realization that soon she would have to find a new work path to follow, that the sense of purpose and excitement her current job gave her would need to be replaced with something else.

  Phoebe chuckled quietly. She would far rather keep her mind and body hectic and busy, trying to keep her ship and crew safe and traveling in the merc world than being maudlin, angsting over no one special person in her life. As her thoughts turned to her frustrations, Phoebe knew sleep would not come again for her this night.

  With that conclusion, she sighed and ran a well-toned, slim arm out under the covers, stretched it across the wide expanse of the silky-soft ancient Egyptian cotton sheets.

  The other half of the bed felt chilled, depressing her even further.

  Phoebe turned herself over yet again, pulled the sheets and coverings closer to her, wrapping them around her body.

  It’s not as if finding a new career is a new thing for you, she tried to perk herself up with a small internal pep talk. At the tender age of twelve, as an orphan and struggling to find a livable existence, she had begun modeling. She found this highly amusing, as her youthful body had flourished to perfection almost overnight at the alarming age of eleven.

  Tall, leggy and slim, she had enjoyed working with a variety of people and a wide diversity of destinations and campaigns. The young Phoebe had positively loved the attention and adoration showered over her, the exotic destinations, the richness of clothing and food. Everything had seemed not only a dream come true but an exciting adventure at the same time.

  More importantly, she had reveled and grown and flowered under the adulation and care of the photographers and the firsthand experience of the galactic world.

  By the age of twenty-two, Phoebe had done everything from the July Miss Galactic, the most prestigious pinup centerfold position throughout the galaxy, to modeling clothes and doing holo-ads.

  And yet she remained grounded and intelligent enough to know in a year or three some new, bright young thing would come crashing through the ranks and “upset” her perfect setup.

  Secretly intrigued by the stories of the mercenaries and other spying Forces throughout the galaxy, Phoebe had planned ahead, asked the right questions and smiled sweetly at the right people. She had trained hard, honed her body, and discreetly, carefully, begun to look for new employment.

  Exactly as she had predicted, within the year a petite but voluptuous twelve-year-old started nosing her way in, slowly taking over more and more shoots.

  Seeing the road she currently traveled about to take a sharp turn for the worse, Phoebe had taken a good look around her, known it was time to move on to her next phase of life, and quit, much to the surprise of almost everyone. She had moved on with barely a backward glance, but true gratitude in her heart for all she had learned of the galaxy and the business world.

  With her striking looks and razor-sharp mind, she’d been snapped up and poached by a branch of the Mercenaries Force. They had responded positively almost six months prior to her joining them, practically salivating at the opportunity to use her, a well-known face with a fully legitimate entrée into many of the elitist places.

  With Phoebe opening so many previously shut doors, she would have been welcome for that talent alone, but she found she’d been almost born for the subterfuge and information-gathering game.

  She enjoyed working with the elite branch, a half step betw
een the regular Force and the Mercenary Empires. She’d trained in arms, and once again enjoyed not only the physical and mental challenge, but found herself surprisingly good at charming her way through almost any situation.

  The adrenaline rush when she escaped, her mission complete, was better than any drug many of her modeling contemporaries had ever tried, unsuccessfully, to tempt her with.

  Phoebe found herself startled and more than just a little proud by just how quickly she became proficient in the use and recognition of most weapons known to the civilized galaxies. More importantly, she learned and soaked up the political movements and environment like a sponge.

  She was a natural.

  Phoebe sighed and ran a hand though her hair as she sat up in bed. She loved her work, loved her job in the mercenary world, yet more and more frequently now she wished she could share that with someone special, loath as she was to admit such a weakness.

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, and her mind now too busy to deal with any meditation, Phoebe switched on her bedside lamp. The holo-clock automatically rose and declared it only three a.m. Cursing, she climbed out of bed and pulled on some well-worn sweats.

  Maybe if she ran around the block a few times she could clear the cobwebs from her mind, then take a warm, relaxing shower, and still try to grab a few more hours sleep before heading in to start her day.

  She loved the merc world so much she hadn’t even entertained the idea of possibly training for something new, yet now she was fully awake and her senses weren’t fuzzy with sleep she could feel the sense of change in the air.

  Phoebe had learned through the hard school of life experience how to keep all her mental and physical senses razor sharp and alert. It had kept her safe and alert more than a few times in her world. Now, she could practically taste a change in her life bearing down on her, she almost felt as if she could reach out and touch it.

  Maybe this recognition of change was where her melancholy had sprung from. It truly was quite out of character for her to mope around in the middle of the night, or let her deep feeling of loneliness, which truthfully was not that new or different, overrule her usually optimistic and busy reality.

  Phoebe knew from experience within the next few months something else would crop up, some twist or turn in her life would open a new door, and she needed to be ready to make a call and decide whether to jump through it or not.

  Surprisingly for someone who’d been pretty much alone from childhood, she felt no fear with the insecurity of the future. Phoebe knew without a doubt she had nothing to lose either way, yet the restless energy pervading the air made her want to physically reach out and grab the upcoming decision and shake it into immediate action.

  She hated not being in charge of her own fate, hated this itchy, restless feeling that woke her up at odd hours and refused to leave.

  Lacing up her trainers, Phoebe set the door to autopalmlock, so she wouldn’t need to carry anything with her, and headed out into the streets.

  Calmly, determined to clear her mind, Phoebe performed a few cursory stretches to warm up and then set off across the street in a random direction. She started at a slow pace, not wanting to injure any of her muscles by starting too fast and pushing herself too much.

  As she cruised past well-known stores and businesses, Phoebe enjoyed the surreal feel of the early morning. Even in the darkness of the night, the stores and all other residences were locked securely down and seemed vacant. She breathed deeply as she felt her body warm to life and the blood begin to pump through her system.

  In the merc world, this was the time the subterfuge came to a head, when most everyone else was either asleep, or too drunk to care what occurred. Phoebe regulated her breaths as she wondered what it was fate had in store for her. She frowned, deep in thought, as her imagination tried to second-guess fate.

  She felt her brow lighten and a sigh of relief escape her as she recognized some of her feelings. How could she have missed it? Out here in the inky blackness of the very early morning, the chill, fresh wind rushing past her as her feet began to quicken and eat up the ground, she felt that itchy sensation, of something just around the corner.

  Phoebe sped up her pace a small amount. She breathed more deeply and let her lungs expand with the crystal clear, fresh air.

  Phoebe had never had the inclination to be tested to see if she were truly psychic. A certain level of “awareness”, while not the norm, was nowadays easily accepted and not considered noteworthy.

  Phoebe knew she had slightly sharper senses, deeper intuition and the canny ability to piece thoughts and concepts together. It had helped her immeasurably though her life. Yet she had never wanted to be labeled, especially not publicly for any government record, as out-and-out psychic.

  So she never tried to delve too deeply into categorizing herself or any of her talent. No red flags appeared next to her name because she was unusually pretty, or unusually clever, and so she hated the thought of being branded or labeled simply because she was unusually instinctive.

  Besides, when she struggled too hard to force or coerce her talent—like second-guessing the lottery numbers, usually the intuitive thoughts and feelings disappeared entirely. Even so, nothing seemed to dim the certainty she felt that change was approaching her life, much as she had when she swapped life paths last time. It would also help explain her odd reminiscing, the restless night’s sleep and the strange feelings of self-pity.

  Her senses, her intuition had cottoned on to the fact change was in the air around her, and had been subtly trying to ready her.

  Phoebe nodded to herself. This was exactly what she needed to sort herself out. She slid into an easy pace as she tried to sort herself out a little further.

  Maybe she should try out for the regular policing Force? Phoebe tasted the thought in her mind, rolled it around her head trying to see how it settled inside her mind and soul.

  After a brief moment, she rejected the notion. The Force had far too much rigid hierarchy structure and paperwork to suit her. She had pretty much been her own boss since the start of her teens. Their bureaucracy, red tape and rules were far too stringent and their points of view on most matters far too narrow to sit well with her.

  After being her own person for almost all of her life, Phoebe knew that although many mercs retired onto the Force, that was simply not an option for her.

  Besides, not only would she likely never make anything of herself there, chances were she wouldn’t even make it past the psych-compatibility testing procedure. She was far too independent, too free in her thinking to be considered compatible for the Force. It was why she had always thought to be a merc and work in their world in the first place.

  Rejecting that notion, Phoebe went back to enjoying the utter solitude of the middle of the night. She ran randomly, paying next to no attention where she went. She knew the city well, having lived there on and off for over ten years, and even at this odd hour, had almost no fear of getting lost or something happening as long as she kept away from the more dangerous areas.

  Changing her mind on her destination on a whim, she rounded a street corner and headed out toward the recpark and the lake. The recpark always soothed her, and the almost full moon seemed to beckon to her. Running a few laps around the peaceful recpark and lake would be good for her, and maybe she could figure out her next few moves.

  Chortling to herself, she picked up her speed and continued the long run to the recpark. She decided to follow the two-mile round track, maybe even twice, and then walk the mile back to her lodgings as a cool down.

  Shaking her head at how she couldn’t even enjoy a simple middle-of-the-night run without trying to organize herself, she smiled to herself and continued on her way.

  As she entered the recpark, the tiny dots of light shone through the thick blanket of trees. The tiny pinpricks of light appeared almost magical to Phoebe and made her feel protected, at peace with the world and herself.

  The more she r
an the more she felt as if she were being guided, as if something higher than her conscious self had a gentle hand in this night’s activity.

  It was as she came into view of the lake that she saw him.

  He stood leaning against a tree near one of the recpark lights. The first thing she noticed about him was how tall he was. His hair seemed slightly shaggy, dark brown in the inky blackness of the night and roughly cropped with shining blond highlights.

  He must have heard her approach, as he turned in her direction, and she slowed, and then stopped running, gasping softly for breath.

  He had the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen. Having been in the modeling world for over five years, and on its edges for another twelve or so, Phoebe had seen far more than her fair share of stunning eyes and drop-dead-gorgeous men.

  He was as handsome as a model, yet he didn’t carry himself in that particular way—he didn’t have the aura of self-knowledge and arrogance every male model she’d ever seen cloaked themselves with.

  To the contrary, the beautiful man appeared as stunned as she, his eyes opened wide with surprise.

  For what felt like forever, yet could hardly have been a minute or two at most, they both stood stock-still and simply looked at each other.

  And then Phoebe realized this was the turn she had been waiting for. It had been over six months since her last lover, and even he had barely lasted more than a month. She’d been feeling restless, edgy. Phoebe smiled in amusement.

  It wasn’t her career which was on the point of turning around. It was her sexual life that was about to be revamped. It felt way too early to work out if he was “The One”, but she would be an utter fool to not take note of her own sharpened instincts, and the luscious perfection of this man in front of her.

  Phoebe smiled widely and ran a hand through her blonde ponytail.