Clip From Ramses Rule!

“Stand up.” She did, but only by using his shoulders to brace herself. Once up, he ripped the pants the rest of the way off then put them under her as she sat back down. “Now you won’t bleed all over the place. Drink.” She took another, and surprisingly the pain was starting to lessen up. “Okay, you about ready?”

“What choice do I have?”

He stood up with the bowl in hand and straddled the settee. He put the bowl between them but was still very close. Ramses then pushed her back so she was lying sideways with her cut facing him.

“Keep drinking it,” he said while threading the needle.

And she did, watching his every move. It fascinated her to see him be able to put a wet string into that needle with such big hands and thick fingers.

“So why is your room still grand and the rest of the house isn’t?” He asked, moving the towel. She didn’t take her eyes off the needle and hissed when it went into her skin.

Before answering him she took another drink, this one much larger. “He—he didn’t want me to sell my stuff.” On a groan she turned her head away, unable to watch him as he inserted the needle and pulled the open flesh closed. Besides that, it hurt like hell.

The bowl went down to the floor and she turned her head, saying nothing as he moved even closer and used his other hand to help pinch the skin. That had her moaning out in pain, which in turn got her to take another drink.

“This is going to take some time,” he said. “So might as well answer the question.”

“We sold, or he sold things to keep the place going. The servants we have now stayed just because of loyalty.” The more he worked, the harder it became to think and talk. When she took yet another drink, this time she downed more than the last, ignoring the burn. Sweat beaded on her face and the urge to cry out strengthened the longer he went; it became one hell of a fight.

“You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head before answering him. “No.” and before she knew it, tears had fallen.

Ramses stopped, reached up, and brushed the tears away. “It’ll be okay.” She nodded and he went back to work.

Instead of drinking more, which had her feeling very lightheaded, she began to pant through the pain, through the stick of the needle and pull of the string. She went quiet, just stared at him and watched his face as he worked.

So intense, so focused on the job at hand that he didn’t seem to notice her staring. It had been a very long time since she just looked at him without him really noticing.

Sheba remembered the day that her heart seemed to fall for him. She had just turned thirteen, hadn’t said a thing to Hesat. For so long Sheba kept her mouth shut and eyes off of him, just because of her sister. Once Hesat figured it out she had to show Sheba that all men would pick her first. Didn’t matter if Hesat was interested or not. If she wanted something, or better yet, if Sheba wanted something, then Hesat would make sure to get it first.

“You’re staring at me,” Ramses said, still working on her side and apparently seeming like he was only focused on it.

“You know she wasn’t really interested in you back then, right?” Sheba closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out with a loud sigh. “You got me tipsy, didn’t you?”

“That does tend to happen when you drink that much.”

“She did it because of me,” she groaned, looking up at the ceiling.

“Did what?”

“Went after you.

“What are you talking about Sheba?” he exhaled as if irritated or something.

“Hesat.” Saying her name had him pausing, his eyes looking at her face. She couldn’t help it and smiled. “You have always had pretty eyes, you know that?” he cocked his head, but said nothing. “Are you going to use this to your advantage?”

“What you mean?”

“My father can’t know about this.”

“Ah,” that had him nodding and going right back to work. “Well then, I guess you are in my pocket huh?”

“I don’t want to be in your pocket,” she breathed out, closing her eyes.

“What do you want to be then?”

“Are you almost done?”

“Yes. Now answer my question.”

“What was the question?” he paused again, looking up at her.

With a smile, he leaned down and she watched as he bit the string. “Done. Don’t move.” Ramses got up, took the stuff with him and headed for the bathing room. She heard some water, and then he came back with another rag in hand.

“You can’t tell him,” she breathed out, closing her eyes when he began to clean up her side with cool water. “Please.”

“Yeah, and, why shouldn’t I?”

“Ramses, please,” she groaned.

“Sign the contract in the morning.” That statement had her still. “I’ll keep this and the fact that you’ve been going out at night swimming alone from him, but only if you agree.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Yes, it is,” he gave her a big smile, and then tossed the rag to the pile with the other bloody things of hers.

Sheba pushed his hands away and started to get up, only to sway and go right back down. Ramses caught her, and in fact pulled her onto his lap, holding her close.

SEVERINE!

Severine stood in the open door all in black leather with a long coat on, hood up over her head and even black gloves with the fingers gone. She held the doors open, cool blue eyes scanned the room. They stopped at Bryon who could only stare back at her mesmerized. Seeing her in the flesh did things to him that he wished like hell didn’t affect him.  He still saw the pain in those eyes, but also saw a new determination in them also. She was after something and he would place money down that he knew what it was.

The videos he saw of her did not justice to the women that stood there now. She had long legs, narrow waist, and breasts that could fill his hands nicely. He couldn’t clearly see her face, but he had a good idea from what he saw as to what she looked like. He knew she has an oval face that belonged to an angel yet turned into the devil. Not that he could blame her for it.

She moved her eyes from him and they landed on the very man he got told about that could get him information that the Nations worked damn at keeping from the worlds. Only Bryon watched her walk down the steps into the bar and right over the man in the corner. Right before sitting down she glanced over her shoulder, those eyes locking with his again.

What they talked about, he could only guess. The manner in which the conversation seemed to be taking a turn for had Bryon finishing his drink quickly, then moving away from the bar for a better angel in the place. He watched everyone around and saw something strange or more like fishy from the bar tender. She kept looking over at the same table, the table that Severine sat at, then her eyes would move to the entrance of the bar. If he had to take a huge guess, then Bryon would say she just called in Severine’s arrival. Bet a nice little bounty is now out which is going to make his job a bit harder now.

Then the shit started to hit the fan.

Severine stood up, grabbing the guy she had been talking to by the front of his jacket. She pulled him to his feet and the guards of the Nations instantly came through the doors. Bryon stood and readied himself for a fight.

She stilled, looked over at the guards quickly coming inside with weapons drawn then she hit the guy she had been talking to hard enough for him to go down. Swinging around guns turned up in both of her hands. She aimed and started shooting at the men that walked into the bar.

Instant chaos and disorder broke out. Women began screaming and other guys that were sitting and drinking stood up to join in the fight. With so much going on at once, Bryon lost sight of Severine. A rouge shot flew by his head causing him to bring his own gun out and firing back.

He dodged to the right, shooting without really aiming at anything. Taking hold of a table he tipped it over and hid behind him. Bullets pelted off the wood. He shot back but didn’t really hit anything or anyone. Without really meaning to, Bryon ended up drawn into the gun fight, his attention no longer on where or what Severine might be doing at the moment. The main focus for now is not getting shot by these stupid pricks that couldn’t seem to aim for shit. And why in hell are they here to begin with? As far as Bryon knew the Nations was keeping all of this tight lipped. Guess that is out the door.

From the corner of his eye he saw that guy she was talking to crawl towards the back of the bar. With his head down, he stood up and dashed behind the counter, then a door opened and closed. The chicken shit is making a run for it.

Bryon was about to turn back to the fighting and scane the room as best as he could to find her, when from the corner of his eye again he caught moment heading to the back of the bar. This time it was her. With the guards busy shooting it out with the regular bar customers, no one noticed her leave, but him. He shot once more then on his own hands and knees followed. Behind the bar hiding was the same girl he talked to just a short time ago.

“Smart move calling them in,” he said to her.

“I didn’t know,” she cried out.

“Well what the hell did you think was going to happen? They’d walk in and say please put your hands up and come with us?” shaking his head he went through the back door then stood up.

An old kitchen was in the back of the bar. Bryon walked past stoves that looked like they hadn’t been used in years. To the very back he went and out the door into an ally. He put his gun away, turned right and found himself on the main street. Quickly he looked left and right with a small amount of hope that he might see her or even that guy for that matter. As luck would have it he saw them both running down the sidewalk, in and out of people. Her chasing him.

Bryon went after them both. He ran down the sidewalk, also moving in and out of the thickness of people. One lady almost knocked him over by not moving out of the way. Her curses he heard the rest of the way down the block.

To the left they went, and then he heard the loud bang of a gun go off. People screamed and moved away fast. By the time Bryon got to the scene men from the Nations were already there, taking over.

Working to catch his breath, he looked around the crowed. He tried to find her, but with the thickness of people he just couldn’t really see any faces clearly. Moving away from the scene, he looked at the buildings and tried to think if he was her where would she go. He knew that she would want to stay close enough to see things, yet hidden at the same time.

Turning in a circle, checking everything out, he finally spotted a place and if his eyes weren’t fucking with him, he thinks he saw her head around the corner also. He wasn’t sure if she saw him looking in her direction or not, so he worked to act natural and made his way through the people and across the street to the ally hidden by a tall building.

Alert, but not bringing his weapon out, Bryon walked down the alley slowly, his eyes on everything, his senses on high alert. About halfway down the alley the distinct sound of a gun cocking halted his steps. When he felt the end of it press to the back of his head, Bryon raised his arms up in the air to show her he was unarmed.

“Why you following me?” she demeaned.

“The Nations sent me.”

“Then you’re a dead man.”

“So I’ve heard,” he slowly turned around in order to face her. The first real look at her face stole his breath and maybe a bit of his heart as well. Beauty didn’t do her justice really, but exhausted did. She had dark circles under her eyes, telling him that she’s been running on fumes for the past few days. Even with their training they still had to get sleep after so many hours awake. “You’re about to drop. I’m only here to help.”

“Bullshit,” she pressed the gun harder into the side of his head. “You want the bounty, just the other assholes out there.”

“If I wanted the damn bounty, then I could’ve shot you back in the bar when you came in.” that statement he saw a change in her eyes. “Look, I don’t give a shit about why the Nations want you back or why you left. Hell, I don’t trust them any more than you do, but if you keep going then they’re going to get their hands back on you. How long has it been since you’ve really slept or eaten anything?”

“None of your fucking business.”

Bryon slapped the gun from his head, grabbed hold of it and twisted it from her grip, then took both of her arms, swung her around and slammed her up against the wall of one of the buildings. Before she could reacted he had her own gun up against her forehead.

“Have I made my point now?” he asked. “I shouldn’t have been able to do that Severine.”

“You know my name?” she frowned. “Though I was only a number to you guys.”

Bryon uncocked the gun, let it drop in his hand and handed it back to her butt end first. “I’m not here to take you in or hurt you. I just want to help.”

“Why?” she took the gun back and it hung to her side.

“Because I’m just as tired of the control the Nations have on us all. I use to be like you once, and because of that they think they still have control over me. I saw in your eyes the same thing I saw in my own years ago.”

“And what’s that?”

“Life.” 

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It's time for Keegan!

Shaking her head, she drifted through the crowd. A drowsy sensation hit, making her wonder for a second if she shouldn’t sit down. The fruit slipped from her fingers, every muscle in her body relaxing at the same time. To completely confuse her, her clit started to throb in a slow cadence. Stopping, she touched her forehead. What was happening? Her nipples pressed against the top she wore and throbbed in need. Hell, everything on her screamed to be touched.

With the prickling sensation of someone watching her, she looked around for the cause. Her gaze locked with a man on the other side of the gazebo. His cobalt blue eyes stood out from the rest. Obviously yet to be transformed, at a guess she didn’t think he stood more than about five-five in height, and his hair, in one shade of light brown, barely touched his shoulders. The way he stared caused a shiver, hypnotizing her with his eyes. What was he doing to her?

In one hand he held a piece of the same fruit she had been eating. In the other he held a drink. His stare never wavered as he popped the last piece into his mouth and tipped the cup to his full lips to wash the bite down.

The breeze picked up, blowing open his unbuttoned shirt. For a guy who had yet to change, his chest looked powerful to her, enough for her to know, from what she’d been told about runts, he would be huge once he did.

The breeze blew right in her face carrying with it a scent of freshness to make her lightheaded. Another wave of dizziness, almost a drugged sensation hit, mixed with a strange impression of tiny fingers touching her body. The pounding need grew stronger inside her, pooling between her legs, frightening and thrilling her. She wanted to stay and run at the same time. The stranger still staring didn’t help. No, he moved toward her. Son of a bitch! She could almost feel his body heat.

Panicked, Zhora turned away as he moved toward her. She pushed her way out of the crowd in an overwhelming urge to get away from things going on in her body she didn’t understand.

She didn’t get far.

He caught her, the one staring at her. Grabbed by the arm, she swung around, and lips covered hers. She was kissed and kissed deep. The impulse to run disappeared. She had no control over her body, couldn’t stop her arms from going up around his neck or stop her eyes from closing. Zhora didn’t mind either. She enjoyed the kiss, even kissed him back.

Boy, did he have a skill with his mouth.

His lips moved over hers. His tongue teased her lips until she opened for his tongue to slip inside. God, he tasted good. Too fucking good. He tasted of fresh air after a big storm. Zhora wanted to crawl into him, to get closer to enjoy his touch more than mere kissing satisfied.

He walked her backward, and she went willingly. The feelings, the emotions hitting her too overpowering to fight had she wanted to. Zhora had to have more, needed more, craved more. She touched his chest, skimming both hands up and down smooth muscles. Up to his shoulders, she pushed the shirt off, not understanding why she had the compulsive need to.

Never this way, she wasn’t the kind of girl to kiss a stranger, to strip him, or make out, yet she was doing all of those things. The urge to feel his skin against hers drove her while the outside world melted away in a haze until only the two of them existed.

Something wasn’t right, one part of her mind told her at the same time everything felt damn right. This wasn’t her, yet she didn’t stop. She wanted his hands on her, his mouth on her body, and he seemed to need her as badly as she needed him. The voice telling her it was wrong grew weaker.

The kiss ended. He turned her around, pushed her hair aside, and put those hot fucking lips on her shoulder. Zhora leaning back against his chest and almost melted in the arms encircling her. Arms over her shoulders, her hands found his head and fisted into his hair as his hands stroked her, starting at her bare belly moving up. Breathing hard, almost to a point of not being able to breathe at all, she couldn’t resist rubbing back against him. Relinquishing her hold of his hair, she moaned when his hand went down her bare leg and his lips traveled down her back.

come and get keegan

CHRISTMAS IS COMING.......AND THE TOY SOLDIER IS READY

She lit the candle, and saw more, forming a circle around the room and she proceeded to light every single one. There had to be over a hundred candles.

Nothing. No furniture, no decorations, nothing else in the room, but for something large hidden under a sheet that might’ve been white at one time. There also was a fireplace with more candles on the mantel. Clair went over, lit them, and saw the only decoration in the room—a large, oval mirror positioned over the fireplace.

Turning around she faced the sheet. With a hard yank, it came off and she frowned. A large toy soldier that, if smaller, would be a nutcracker, stood in the center of the room facing the fireplace.

It was the strangest thing she ever saw. In fact, Clair never saw a nutcracker this big in her life. They were always small.

A cold draft hit her and Clair had the sudden urge to start the fire. The chill seemed to penetrate the whole house.

She filled the fireplace with logs, found some paper, and matches, and began to work at it. It was weird how the thing didn’t seem to want to light at first. Almost as if, something might be preventing the flame from catching.

“Come on,” she mumbled, striking another match. This time it caught.

A gust of blue flame ignited, shot out, and knocked Clair backwards onto the hard floor. The single flame seemed to burst out of the fireplace, moved around the room, snaked around the soldier. She watched it, fascinated by the way it moved, eventually returning to the fireplace and lighting the wood and newspaper she’d stuff inside the hearth.

It crackled, burned, and heated the room nicely. Clair slowly got back up to her feet, not taking her eyes off the fire.

“Maybe I’ve had too much to drink with my medicine,” she said to herself, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Or maybe the damn tumor is finally starting to fuck with me now.”

Her eye caught the mirror, and her breath left in a rush. Standing behind her, she saw a man—a naked man, watching her as she watched him.

In complete panic mode, she turned only there wasn’t a man just the toy soldier, but the soldier felt as if it was watching her. She could actually feel his eyes upon her, and it was a bit nerve racking. She hated being watched.

“What the hell is going on with me?” Her hand shook as she reached out to touch the goy soldier. Right before she touched it a hand shot out, grabbing hers, the wooden arm and hand crumbling to the floor at her feet. She screamed.

The man she’d seen in the mirror showed from inside the toy soldier. He held onto her wrist as the rest of the soldier crumbled, revealing his entire body. He took a step forward and left the shell of the toy behind as he came to life. Then the wooden shell simply fell apart around his feet and crumbled into nothing more than wood.

She went down to her knees in shock.

“Clair Meloni,” he said once he was fully out of the tin soldier’s frame, the pieces everywhere around him, his voice so thick, and so deep, it made her shiver.

His body was a brick of muscle, not an inch of fat upon him. The hair upon his head screamed sex appeal. Long blond locks streaked with black, touched his shoulders. Big blue eyes looked down at her, long sexy lashes touched his face, his lips full and sensuous He looked like some mythical God—a very naked one, standing before her!

His deep, rumbling voice murmured, “It’s time.”

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