BRIANNA'S PROPHECY by Tianna Xander

BRIANNA'S PARADISE by Tianna Xander

Niklas Voortag, High King of Terrna lives his life for his people. His own needs are unimportant. Driven by the words of an ancient prophecy, he searches far and wide for the woman who can save his world. Now that he's found her, can she also save his heart?

Kidnapped from her world and everything she knows, Brianna O'Neill finds that she is The One bound to save an entire world. A trip through space, an acquaintance with a faery and an ancient sorcerer was never at the top of her list. Now she must come to terms with the fact that she is the only one with the power to thwart an evil plan.

This book was previously published under the title Prophecy. It has been revised, edited and republished.

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~Excerpt~

A slight movement in the corner startled her and she shivered with fear. Swallowing thickly, she tried to talk around the giant lump in her throat. “Is someone there?” She sat up, pulled the sheet up to her chest and squinted into the darkness, trying to see around the shadowy shapes she knew was her furniture. The sound of breathing from the corner made her heart pound faster.

Brianna’s hands fisted in her sheets, she hadn’t been this frightened in her own bedroom for years. The old fears and insecurities rose up, bound her to the bed, making it nearly impossible to move. She was torn between running and pulling the covers up over her head like a frightened child.

She inhaled sharply when a person stepped from the shadows, even opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Reaching for her throat, she wanted to claw at the slim column and force it to comply. She tried again, still nothing.

Is this another dream? The intruder stepped fully into the moonlight and she could see him, or her, very clearly now. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be human. It was tall and thin, with long silver hair and long pointy ears. Brianna resisted the urge to giggle. Hysterics were not an option. She needed to keep her wits about her.

“I would appreciate it if you did not think of me as an it or as a female.” The creature straightened. “I am Larin of the Fey. Messenger of Morgaine.”

“Huh?” Brianna sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Now that she knew she wasn’t looking at a specter, whoever it was, had to be human. Fear came bounding back. She cast furtive glances around the room, hoping to find something she could use as a weapon. What the hell, if she was going to die anyway, she was going to go out with a bang. Maybe literally. “First of all, how did you know what I was thinking? Two, how did you get in here, and three, just who in the hell are you?” Brianna waggled three fingers, glaring at him. She didn’t give a crap if he was gay. She just wanted him out of her house.

He sighed. “I am most certainly not gay. Not in the manner you mean at any rate.” He hedged. “I am gay, meaning that I am happy.” He smiled and spread his arms wide, his hands palms up.

Like that was supposed to clear things up? Brianna slid backward across her bed to put more space between them. Turning her back, she dropped the sheet, grabbed her robe and put it on. Maybe he was a weirdo surgically altered to look strange. One who needed to make the acquaintance of the guys who wore the white coats?

She held trembling hands in front of her, in what she hoped resembled a placating manner. “I’m glad that you’re happy being gay,” she smiled. “Really I am. I just don’t know what it has to do with me or why you’re in my house.” She blinked and eyed the telephone, wondering if she would be able to dial nine-one-one before he could take it from her and make her eat it.

Larin closed his eyes, running a long slender finger up and down the most perfect nose Brianna had ever seen. He smiled and opened his eyes. They had the most devilish twinkle.

“I am pleased you like my nose, madam, but it is far from perfect.” He leaned back and sighed. “Ah. Now, my Queen, she is another story. She is perfection.”

“Will you stop that?” Brianna shook a finger at him. “Just stay out of my head! You weren’t invited.” She glared at him, furious, her eyes becoming slits. “How do you do that anyway?”

“Do what?” Larin asked, feigning wide-eyed innocence. The glacial blue of his eyes was prismatic, reflecting what little light there was back at her.

“Ack!” Brianna threw her hands in the air. She was never going to get a straight answer from him. The creep was more slippery than a politician.

His silvery white brows drew down in a fierce scowl. “I beg your pardon!”

“If you don’t like my thoughts, stay out of my head.” She said with a smirk. There! That got him. What in the world did the guy want anyway? And why aren’t you scared out of your wits because he just popped into your house? The strange thing was that she really wasn’t scared of him. She felt more like sticking her tongue out at him than running for her life.

Biting her lip, she eyed the phone and frowned. Why should she care if he’s gay? That was his business, not hers.

“I am Larin of the Fey! F.E.Y. You know, the faeries.” He all but screamed the last.

Brianna tilted her head to the side and looked on with interest. He wasn’t quite so beautiful when his face turned purple like that. His eyes did strange things, too, almost glowing orange, then suddenly changing back to the brilliant blue they’d been before his tantrum.

“Faeries do not have tantrums!” He stomped his foot. Then, when he realized what he’d done, he looked toward the ceiling and rolled his eyes.

She stifled the urge to giggle. This would be hilarious if she could be certain he wasn’t an axe murderer.

“I cannot abide your fear any longer,” he growled. “Rules or no rules, watch this.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared. Then poof! He was back again.

Brianna nearly fainted. If she’d been standing, she certainly would have fallen. “Wha—”

Larin sighed again and shook his head.

She was getting so tired of that. He acted like he thought she was stupid or something.

“How can you call yourself a witch and not believe in faeries?” He scowled again.

Brianna watched him with interest. If he hadn’t had that eerie glowing eye thing going again, it would have been comical. He was just too pretty to make those faces.

“Males. Are. Not. Pretty.” He emphasized each word.

She made a face. Well, two could play at that game. “Stay. Out. Of. My. Head,” she huffed. This yelling match was going absolutely nowhere.

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FORBIDDEN: THE REVOLOUTION by Samantha Sommersby

FORBIDDEN: THE CLAIM - Book 3 in Samantha Sommersby's Forbidden Series

Twenty-five years ago Dell Renfield's father started a revolution, and Dell plans to finish it. Sorcerer, vampire, secret weapon, he's spent a lifetime training for his fate. The one distraction he isn't equipped for? Special Agent Alexandria Sanchez. A woman he desires above all others - and a woman he dare not get close to.

Alex's love life is already cursed. She doesn't need the added complication of a sexy new partner. Especially one who's touch is literally magic. Posing as his lover for the sake of their investigation is pure hell - and pure heaven. Now if she can just get him to quit casting spells long enough to prove she's capable. And keep her hands to herself in the process.

As they infiltrate a dangerous culture, temptation becomes too much to resist. And their torrid affair triggers an epic battle for power that could forever alter the future for them...and their kind.

This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.

Product Warnings - This book contains spectacular magical ass-kickings, copious amounts of blistering sex, one super-sexy, gun-toting heroine, and a very delicious, very powerful sorcerer...who sometimes sports fangs.

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Excerpt from Forbidden: The Revolution

Copyright © 2009 Samantha Sommersby
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


If I were to be totally honest I’d tell you that the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I was in trouble. What’s worse, I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do to save myself.

There she was, standing on top of what was to become my desk, hanging a sign on the wall above it that said “Welcome Dell”. She was wearing brown patent-leather high-heeled shoes and was reaching up on tiptoe. The calves of her shapely legs were flexed, well toned, and they acted like a homing beacon—sending a signal that went straight to my cock.

I’d never before confused work with anything personal. So why was I here now? Two words. My father.

Like most men in their mid-twenties, I’m determined to make it on my own. I want to lead my life the way I want, choose my own career path, make my own decisions. But I’m not like most men. I’m a vampire. Does my boss know? Hell, no. But I can guarantee you someone at the branch knows, someone high up, or else dear old Dad wouldn’t have been able to pull these strings. And now I’m stuck. There’s no way I can turn down this assignment without causing undue attention to myself.

She stepped back to admire her handiwork, the heels of her shoes resting precariously at the edge of the desk. She stood there for a minute, her hands on her hips and her full lips pursed into a delicious pout that told me she wasn’t quite satisfied.

A long strand of her brown hair had escaped what had once been a neat chignon. As she lifted her arm to tuck it back into place my phone rang.

She turned quickly in my direction, too quickly, throwing her arms out in an attempt to regain her own balance. But she was too late and falling too fast. Like the chivalrous guy I am, I was there to catch her. For one long, endless moment we silently stared into one another’s eyes. Hers were a brilliant green, amazingly inviting and surrounded by thick, dark lashes. It was like falling into springtime.

She blinked, slowly.

I glanced up at the sign.

“You the welcome wagon?” I asked her.

She reached down and fingered the badge clipped to my collar, lifting up the edge and turning it toward her so she could read it.

“Agent Renfield,” she said. “You’ve got some fast reflexes there. I’m Alex, your new partner. I think it’s safe to put me down now.”

“Right.”

The instant Alexandria Sanchez’s feet touched the floor, my cell phone went off again. I didn’t have to check to see who it was, the ring tone told me. Dad was nothing if not persistent.

“Excuse me,” I told Alex before slipping out of the office.

“How the hell did you pull this off?” I growled into the phone.

“Pull what off?” my father replied innocently. He knew damned well what I was referring to.

“Come on, Dad. Don’t bullshit me. I told you I didn’t want to get involved,” I reminded him.

“Out of our entire network of operatives, you make the most sense. All it took was getting you a transfer from Chicago to L.A. It would have been far more complicated if we had to get someone into the Agency to begin with and start from scratch. You’re a natural for this assignment, Dell. We’re pretty sure it’s her. We’ll do a DNA check, get the confirmation, then—”

“I’m not one of your operatives,” I hissed.

As if being a vampire wasn’t enough to have to overcome, I also had the legacy of being the son of Byron Renfield. Not that anyone outside of his inner circle would know. According to clan folklore Byron was the youngest of the Dominie, an elite group of vampires empowered by Cain, our prophet. The Dominie were supposedly destined to lead us all into redemption. They were holy men, they didn’t mate, and they certainly didn’t have kids. None of the good “practicing” vampires did, though those were becoming fewer and fewer with each passing year. It was a trend my father, as the leader of a quietly subversive revolution, had been working toward my entire life.

Dad was succeeding, too. Gradually, little by little, he was changing the social and economic structure within the vampire world. My father was a brilliant strategist and the smartest man I knew. I had no doubt that within my lifetime his goal to mainstream our race, to integrate us into the human world, would be realized. It wasn’t his goal I disagreed with, it was his methods. They were simply taking too long. I wanted to be a part of the real world now. That’s why I left home. Not because I didn’t believe in what he was doing. I did believe in it. It made sense, his carefully crafted plan. But it required patience and that wasn’t one of my virtues. I wanted to taste it now…real freedom.

I imagined him pacing back and forth, wearing down the carpet in his neat and tidy office.

“No, you’re not,” he acknowledged. “You’re not one of my operatives. But you understand how important this is, Dell. This is personal.”

I rubbed my eyes, still gritty from lack of sleep and jetlag. I sighed heavily into my phone, hoping to somehow convey, across the miles, the depth of my frustration. It’s a fine art, supporting my father’s ideals and yet staying out of the fray. He has a way about him, a way that inspires people, a way that makes them want to do the right thing, the noble thing, the selfless thing, even me.

“She’s prettier in person.”

“Keep it professional,” he warned me.

“Says the man who just reminded me this was personal for him.”

“Point taken.”

Score one for me.

“Have you made contact with her?” he asked.

“Yeah. And we already have our first assignment. I just picked up the file. It’s an undercover operation, her first. We could be gone a while.”

“Can you delay?” my father asked. “You know if it’s her we’ll want you to bring her in. If you can overnight the sample to the lab in Manchester, we could have the results in a couple days.”

I smiled. “Dad, first I have to get a sample. Look, I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but we have a job to do. And it’s a job I take seriously. I’ll get you your sample, but it’s not my number one priority right now. Sophie’s been missing for over twenty-five years. How many times does this make that you thought you’d found her?”

“Seven,” he replied without hesitation. “But—”

“I know; Jennifer has a feeling about her.”

“Don’t be dismissive of Jennifer’s feelings. She’s the most reliable intuitive I’ve ever come across. When you met this Alexandria, did you sense anything?”

“Like what?” I asked, glancing, furtively down at my crotch.

“Sometimes the Chosen possess a stronger pull. They can be more…deeply arousing.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-five. I find anything with tits deeply arousing.”

“Good to know,” I heard Alex say.

I closed my eyes and silently prayed I’d started hallucinating.

Alex coughed.

Damn!

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and braced myself for humiliation before turning around. She was leaning casually against the doorjamb, her long legs crossed at the ankles, her arms folded over her stomach, stretching the silk fabric of her cream-colored blouse and further accentuating the fullness of her breasts.

I didn’t bother to say goodbye to Dad. I just hung up.

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