Dark and Light (A Kindred Tales Duet)

Getting up at the crack of dawn every day and fighting her way through Tampa rush hour traffic to go make tortillas for way less money than she deserved was taking its toll on her. She deserved to have time to play with her grandkids and sit in the sun and just enjoy herself. And since Raze had made it clear that her mother was more than welcome to live with them, that was what they were going to do.

“So you’re moving lock stock and barrel?” Rochelle asked. “The animals too?”

“Of course!” Luci exclaimed. “I can’t leave my fur babies. But they’re all going to have to learn how to get along with the three kittens Raze rescued.” She grinned. “I imagine it’s going to be chaos for a while, but we’ll sort it out eventually.”

“Well, I wish you the best of luck, girl.” Rochelle pulled her into a hug. “I’m so glad things worked out for you. But I’m going to miss you around here!”

“I’ll miss you, too.” Luci was sad to leave her friend. “But I promise I’ll come back down to visit.”

“You do that,” Rochelle told her. “And if your man has any hot Kindred friends, send one my way!”

Luci laughed.

“I’ll see what I can do!”

She gave Rochelle one last hug and went to give her notice. She hated to leave her job on Earth, but her new life aboard the Mother Ship was calling and she couldn’t wait to start it.

The End

So much for the lighter side of Kindred love. Let's see how you like the Dark…

Dark

Captured by the Kru'ell One

Dedicated to Angel Margaret

Prologue

He has the face of a beautiful thug.

A nose that’s been broken more than once…black hair shaved close to his scalp…full, sensuous lips that twist easily into a cruel smile. His body is big and hard and muscular. But it’s his eyes that make Alli shiver.

They’re black—pitch black, midnight black—the color of a sinner’s soul. But when he tilts his head, they shine silver in the darkness—a mirror glow like a cat’s.

She doesn’t have to ask to know he can see in the dark—to know he can see her, no matter how she tries to stay hidden in the shadows of this strange place.

Where is she, anyway? Alli doesn’t know. She finds herself here more and more often, always in her dreams.

Dreams! That’s right—I’m dreaming.

She looks down at her left wrist where she tied the red ribbon before she went to bed. The book on lucid dreaming recommended this technique. When you look down at your wrist in the dream and see there’s no ribbon there, you know it’s not real. And once you know that, you can start to take control of the dream—twist it to your own devices or even just end it.

There is no ribbon on her wrist. Alli breathes a sigh of relief. She looks at the man, half hidden in the shadows, his mirror eyes gleaming as he appraises her. He’s like a man looking at a sleek sports car, she thinks—an expensive, beautiful toy he wants to own.

No man has ever looked at her like that, with that hungry lust, that acquisitive greed—especially now that she’s past the age of forty. Oh, she exercises regularly, but she’s still plumper than she’d like to be—too wide in the hips, too big in the ass. Though at least her naturally red hair is still as fiery as it ever was. No grays for Alli, though she feels her age in other ways. She—

Focus! she commands herself. It’s a dream—get out of it. You can do it—you can take control.

“You’re not real,” she says to the man. “You’re just a dream—all of this…” She makes a sweeping gesture, indicating the hall of shadows where they face each other endlessly, every night. “All of this is just a dream.”

The corners of his sensuous lips turn up in amusement. He doesn’t speak—he never speaks. Instead he takes a step towards her and then another and another until suddenly he’s looming over her.

Alli has to tilt her head up to see him now. Dream or no dream, her heart is thundering in her chest. She can feel the heat of his big body radiating against her own, can smell the wild, dark spice of his caramel-colored skin.

“You’re not real,” she says again, but the words come out in a frightened whisper. “Not real—just a dream. Not real!”

For the first time, he speaks.

“Oh, I’m real all right, Allisandra,” he says. His voice is harsh—deep and gravelly, yet oddly gentle. He reaches out to stroke her hair, carding his fingers through the long strands tenderly. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs.

His touch makes Alli shiver and goosebumps break out all over her bare flesh. For she is naked, she suddenly realizes. Naked and alone in the hall of shadows with this man—if he even is a man. Maybe he’s a demon—a fallen angel sent to take her soul.