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  FORSAKEN TALISMAN

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, May 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-792-1

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) HTML

  FORSAKEN TALISMAN © 2004 ASHLEIGH RAINE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

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

  Edited by Briana St. James.

  Cover art by Jason Stoddard.

  Forsaken Talisman

  Ashleigh Raine

  Dedication

  For Alex and Jason, because they understand—or at least respect—the voices in our heads.

  For Bree, because she hasn’t killed us yet.

  For Kendra, because she let us use her name and physical likeness. She’s really not the bitch we made her out to be. Love you, Kendra.

  For Tracey. You know why. You’ll always have his heart…and ours.

  For our guys. Our inspirations. Since you walked into our lives, everything has become real.

  Prologue

  “I’m not Mariah. I’m not Mariah.”

  The words had become her mantra, the only grasp on control she had left. The only thing she knew about herself was who she wasn’t.

  Not even a flicker of who she had been remained.

  She knew she was female—large breasts made that obvious—and she guessed she was young by her appearance, but looking in the mirror didn’t bring any flashes of insight into who she’d been before. Tangled, limp, light brown hair fell halfway down her back. She had light blue eyes, but captivity had added darker blue circles under them. Pale white skin…she didn’t know if she was normally so pale, or if it was the lack of sunlight creating that illusion. Nothing looked familiar…just a stranger’s face peering back at her questioningly. She thought she might have been considered pretty once, but imprisonment had drained that spark from her features. Now she just looked tired, confused and scared. At least that was one thing she shared with her mirror’s reflection.

  The cement floor was cold, her white cotton nightgown too thin to protect her from the chill. She preferred the frigid cement over the neatly made bed because the floor kept her awake and aware, enabling her to fight this thing that was trying to take over, to change her into someone else.

  She rocked back and forth, forehead resting on her knees as she continued her mantra. The clank-clank of the manacle binding her to the bed reminded her that there was no escape. That her whole world had narrowed down to this tiny room. At times, the fear was overwhelming, but she held on because she wouldn’t let this be the end. She had been someone once, and she’d be that person again.

  “I’m not Mariah. I’m not Mariah. I’m not Mariah.”

  A shadow blocked her light, giving her brief warning of his arrival before a cold hand descended on her head, patting her almost lovingly. She flinched. Damn it! Ignore him! Don’t let him win!

  She spoke, this time louder. “I’m not Mariah. I’m not Mariah. I’m not Mariah.”

  He continued untangling the strands of her hair, murmuring soothing words under his breath. She was so tired and for once his touch felt inviting and calming. As she found herself relaxing into his unexpected gentleness, a spark of the familiar, a memory of someone from her past, slammed into her conscious. Someone else’s hand, caressing her hair, warm gold-specked brown eyes sparkling with laughter, teeth flashing white as he smiled. A friend? A lover? It didn’t matter, he was part of who she really was.

  Stomach clenching as the memory of what she’d lost quickly faded, she lashed out. The bastard touching her now had taken her away from that life. Whether good or bad it had been hers, and now she didn’t even have that.

  She threw herself backward, away from his grasp. Glaring up into dark eyes that didn’t reflect light or a soul, she screamed her mantra at him. “I AM NOT MARIAH! I AM NOT MARIAH!”

  He smiled, the coldness emanating from him so much colder than the floor. He wore his usual black from head to toe, the only color a slash of red across the chest, mimicking the blood of his she’d like to spill. Moving closer, he knelt next to her and smoothed his hand down her face. She cringed.

  Gripping her hair, he wound the long strands around his hand and pulled, hard, forcing her to look up to him. The pain caused tears to well up in her eyes, which she quickly tried to blink away. She hissed the words at him. “I’m not Mariah.”

  His grin widened. “No, my little spitfire, you’re not. Not yet. But you will be. You will be.”

  Smashing his mouth to hers, the painful assault began.

  She screamed as a bright light invaded her mind, forcing images, memories, thoughts not her own deep inside.

  She screamed as her soul went deeper into hiding, retreating to the furthest reaches of her mind.

  She screamed as her last hold on everything that she knew to be true slipped away.

  And she kept screaming as he left the room, whistling a waltz, a slight dance to his step.

  Chapter One

  Something wasn’t right. As the minutes unraveled, Dusty became certain tonight was not going to be as perfect as he’d previously thought. Too many things could go wrong. Initially, it had looked like everything was going to be just fine, but then one plaguing question came to mind.

  Where the hell was his tux?

  Dusty wracked his brain, trying to figure out where he had left the tuxedo once he’d picked it up from the cleaners. After spending such a long time in his closet, it had collected so much dust, he knew he couldn’t wear it like it was. So when he’d heard he would be working the charity ball with his friends, he had pulled it out of his closet to have it cleaned. But where the hell had it gone after that? Did he get in a demon brawl on the way home from the cleaners? C’mon Dusty, think! There’s no time to get another one.

  Never mind, he remembered he’d put it in Marlin’s closet figuring if it was with Marlin’s tux he wouldn’t lose it. But where the hell were his shoes?

  “Dusty! Yes! Faster! Yes!” Jeneane moaned and writhed as Dusty’s cock plunged and retreated. Her pussy was so wet and tight. She was the best fuck he’d had outside of Polgara. The only downside was that while she was always willing, she was always the same. Harder, faster, yes, Dusty! He heard the same cries every night, every day and every morning. Whenever they rendezvoused at her third floor apartment. Her neighbors had started recognizing him as the apparent legend they heard fucking through the walls. He’d turned down a few college girls in the building simply because he liked what he had with Jeneane. It was simple. She didn’t want a relationship, just a good hard fuck. And that he could certainly serve up at any time.

  “Oh, Dusty…” Her voice trailed off as she climaxed. He’d heard that cry so often, he knew what came next. She disengaged from him, pushed him onto his back and slid down his body as she tugged off the condom. She was amazingly agile at applying and removing condoms to the point where he hardly even noticed it anymore—he’d lost count of how many different shaped condoms she’d tried out on him.

  But condoms weren’t the only things she was agile with. Jeneane had a quite talented tongue. It teased and licked and twisted around his cock as he thrust against her masterful workings. Her reddish blonde hair caressed his thighs and tickled his balls, adding to the sensual torment.

  But what the hell did he do with his dress shoes? At the last formal event, he wore
a pair of Converse All-Stars and the guys got all upset. What did he know about style? They felt good, and the ladies hadn’t seemed to mind. They giggled, but he danced with all of them. He was never the one for fashion. That was Marlin and Ryan. Well hell, even Jake and Stephan were more into clothes than he was. Maybe his shoes were in Marlin’s closet, too.

  “Dusty…” Her breath was so ragged. She looked like a porn star as she trapped his cock between her large breasts and continued to work on him. “Are you gonna come…by…tonight?”

  His hips gyrated to her rhythm. He knew she was getting ready to jump on him again. Everything she did always felt good. But what Dusty wanted was spectacular. He wanted the earth to move. He wanted to be able to lay with a woman without having to fuck her right away. He wanted something deeper. To connect with her. Actually, at this particular moment, he mostly just wanted to come, but Jeneane had asked him a question.

  “I have to go to this charity ball thing, and I know you hate them so—”

  “Yes! Uh-huh. Oh yeah! I totally hate those things. Oh yes! You’re gonna come over after it, though, right? Yes!” It never took much to get her off. Sure his hands and tongue were on whatever he could reach, but he wasn’t doing as much as usual to get her off. Dusty, why do you bother? She’s a great lay, but that’s not what you really want, is it?

  “I have to…umm…help clean up afterward. Oh, damn you feel so good! Oh yeah. And I don’t know when I’ll get out.” He had to come up with a better excuse than that. But all of the blood from his brain was in his erect cock. He couldn’t hold a decent conversation during sex unless it was really important, like who should do the work or what felt better. Dammit. Where the hell are those dress shoes? There’s only about four more hours until I have to get ready.

  “Oh! Dusty!” He knew she was about to polish off another one. She was insatiable. “If you change your mind, come on over. Sandy and Jack are coming over tonight for a little party of our own.” Jeneane let out a long, low moan. “I’d love to make it a four way…”

  She licked her way up his chest before she straddled him. Somehow, amidst all the unbridled sex, she’d landed another condom in position. Sliding her cunt down him slowly, she leaned over and tongued his ear. He grabbed her ass and helped her on her journey. He knew she would keep going until he came. During their first week of fucking, he’d had to use a bit of restraint to make it last literally all night, but after the first couple months, it got easier. Now, though, he was beginning to wonder if he could come at all. What was this world coming to?

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight. Thanks for the invite.” Jeneane had tried several times to get him into a group fuck, but once a naked hairy guy entered the room, Dusty lost all interest. He shook off that memory before he lost interest right now.

  He flipped Jeneane over and, using thrust after powerful thrust, built her up so high that he figured when she orgasmed, she’d pass out.

  She screamed in ecstasy.

  It worked.

  She lay there with her eyes closed and a grin on her face as she took in deep gulps of air. It had been awhile since he’d gotten her that high. Although last time, they’d both passed out.

  “Let’s take a shower. You gotta get ready for work,” he whispered in her ear in between little kisses.

  “What time is it? You rocked my world so hard.” She started to roll out of bed as she looked at the clock. “Oh shit! I’m late!” Jumping up, she threw on some clothes then grabbed her hairbrush and a partially used travel size mouthwash as she headed out the door. “Call me later or whatever! Bye!”

  “Yeah. See ya.” Dusty started to run his fingers through his hair, but it was too bedraggled. He lifted an arm and sniffed. Oh yeah, in definite need of that shower. Between patrolling yesterday evening, and fucking all night long, he’d worked up quite a sweat.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, looking down at his still erect cock. Perhaps the cold water would calm it down. Getting off used to be so easy. Damn it. Maybe I need to find another willing female. Yeah. One who wants more than just my cock. He smiled as he got into the shower.

  “That’s right! They’re in the box on the shelf in my closet!” Dusty continued to scrub. Perhaps in his penguin suit, he could dance his way into a lady’s heart.

  * * * * *

  “Harder…Stephan…harder!” Mariah panted.

  “Are you sure, honey? I don’t wanna hurt the baby.” Stephan tried to catch his breath.

  “You’re not going to hurt the baby, I promise. I need this. Give me all you got. C’mon, harder! You know you want to. Pretend I’ve been a bad girl.”

  Stephan laughed. “You’re always a bad girl, that’s what I love about you.”

  Mariah stuck her tongue out at him and Stephan lunged for her. She ducked his attack and rolled on the floor, jumping to her feet still facing him. She grinned and her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Told you I’m a quick learner.”

  Stephan looked at Mariah, her cheeks flushed and hair tussled around her. She was amazingly radiant, the magic in his life. And she carried his child. The love he felt for her knew no bounds. He’d almost lost her once, and the fight with the Dread Lords was far from over. He needed to keep her safe and she needed to realize her limits. “It’s not that easy on the streets. You’re not invincible. Fiero can heal wounds, but he can’t raise the dead. Remember that…I’d rather you ran away than tried to fight, okay?” In one quick swipe he grabbed Mariah around the waist, turned and pulled her down on top of him as he landed on the mats covering the floor. “Because it only takes one unexpected move for you to be taken from me forever…and I couldn’t live like that.”

  Mariah pressed her mouth to his, and he drank of her essence. Every kiss, every moment with her was more than he’d ever expected. She began to remove his jeans—one happy side effect of the pregnancy was that she was an insatiable nymphomaniac—and no, that wasn’t redundant. He was tired, but so damn happy. Although he couldn’t have her right now, not yet.

  He reached out and covered her hands with his, stopping her from removing his pants. Mariah broke the kiss and looked at him questioningly, her mouth swollen and irresistible. “What? It’s okay. I locked the door. No one’s going to barge in on us this time.” Mariah grinned. “Although, the look on Dusty’s face when he walked in on us last week was priceless. He couldn’t figure out if he wanted to stay and join us, or if he should run away before you kicked his ass. I think the running away only happened because you threatened to kill him immediately if he looked any harder at me. You know, he still hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since then.” Mariah laughed. “No one’s going to interrupt us this time. I promise.”

  She slid down his body, her breasts teasing against him the entire way down. Her hands brushed against his achingly hard cock as she worked on removing his jeans again. His heart raced, but not just because he knew what she planned on doing to him. He had plans of his own. He smiled up at her but spoke commandingly. “Stand up.”

  “Stand up?” She arched her eyebrow. “Hmmm…what do you have in mind? Do you want me to dance for you?” Rolling back onto her feet, she stood up gracefully.

  He shook his head. “Just stand there and let me look at you.”

  She waited, eyeing him expectantly. “Is this some sort of test to see how long I can last before I jump you? Not fair. You know we both want it.”

  His hands were sweating…his hands never sweated. He got up off his ass and knelt on one knee in front of Mariah, wiping his hands on his jeans to remove the errant moisture. His right hand slipped into his pants pocket and extracted the small box he’d placed there earlier, keeping it hidden in the palm of his hand. He looked up into her teasing eyes. “Yes, I do want it. But I don’t just want it now…I want it forever. Always and forever.”

  “I know, silly. I do too. But now would be a really nice place to start.”

  He grinned at her, figuring that she could hear his heart beating its way ou
t of his chest. “I agree. Now would be a nice place to start. So—” With shaking hands he held the ring box out to her, “—Mariah Andrea DeSilva, will you marry me?”

  Mariah’s eyes widened, her knees slowly gave way and she sank to the ground next to him. “Yes…yes.” Tears filled her eyes as she gazed into his. His heart continued its frantic pace as he removed the ring from the box and slowly slid it onto her finger. She looked down at the ring and gasped. “Oh, God. It’s beautiful. It’s an infinity sign. Oh my God…” As she slowly rolled her hand back and forth catching the light, the alternating emerald and diamond pattern sparkled.

  Stephan looked at his woman, his fiancée. “This is forever. We are forever. Always and forever. I will always love you and our children.” He placed his hands over her slightly rounded stomach. “I love you.”

  Tears glistened on her face. Stephan reached up to wipe them all away. He cupped her cheek and she nestled against his hand, closing her eyes. She whispered, “I love you, too. So much.”

  Moving his right hand to her other cheek, he brought his face to hers. His lips met hers, softly this time. Between kisses he whispered, “Always—”

  “And forever.” Mariah pulled him on top of her as she lay back on the floor. Her eyes gleamed. “Make love to me as your fiancée now, for the first time.”

  Stephan lowered his mouth to hers, loving her lips, her tongue. God, this woman completed him. His hands busied themselves removing her pants. He couldn’t wait any longer.

  The door slammed open behind them and Stephan and Mariah turned as one toward the unwelcome visitor. Dusty let out a muffled groan and did a quick about face. “Dammit. In the training room, too? Do you two ever do anything but—”

  Stephan growled. “Dusty, you better have a damn good reason—”