Realms of the Raven

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Anna
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved

Still. Dark. Silent.

Slowly the nothingness began to recede.

She floated in a chilly sea of mist, surrounded by shades of grey, her movements slow and sleepy. Peaceful and calm, her body embraced by the fog even as her mind began to wake.

Anna.

She contemplated the name as she drifted. It felt right, it felt natural. Surely that was her own name. It had to be.

My name is Anna.

The acknowledgement seemed to open a floodgate – memories assaulted her. An invasion of visions, sounds, even tastes and smells overwhelmed her. Her mind writhed from the onslaught, helpless in the grip of the experiences it relived.

Noooooooooooooooooo.

Her silent scream faded off as she descended again into the misty silence, unable to process the bombardment.


***

Anna McInnes. She was Anna McInnes.

This time she knew who she was and the memories were still present but she no longer felt as if they were attacking her. She could picture her own face and body. She remembered her parents and that they were both dead, gone for many years.

Where am I? What happened?

She remembered leaving her house to go to her friend, Jo’s. She'd climbed into her car and started it, then began the short drive. But she didn't remember arriving. What did that mean? Where was she now?

She couldn’t see anything. Anna tried to touch her face to make sure her eyes were open but her body didn’t seem to respond to her demands. Only silence and drifting sensations met her efforts.

Determined, she pushed her fears aside and willed herself to move, to control her body.

Nothing.

I have to move. I have to know I’m okay.

She focused every bit of her will on moving just her fingers. Just one finger. Surely she could do that. Finally, as if a tightly stretched barrier burst, she felt her right hand move at the same time a wave of excruciating pain swept over her, throwing her back into her grey silence.


***

“What the hell are you doing?”

Anna’s eyes shot open at the shouted words. She was laying on a damp, cold surface that was so hard it felt like she was laying on a rock. Her head swimming, she tried to push herself upright only to realize she was so weak she could barely manage it.

“Well, Miss, what are you doing here? Do you have no respect?” The voice was closer now. “Are you on drugs?”

Anna managed to rise to her knees on the flat surface. She wrapped her arms around herself, cold and shivering now. Looking down, she realized she was wearing a dress she didn’t recognize. A thin flowery fabric in a style she never wore. Where the hell had that come from?

It seemed like she couldn't focus her eyes. Everything seemed to waver and shimmer. It was so bad she would swear she could see through her own body, impossible as that was. But the stone slab she was on seemed solid enough.

Lifting her head, she saw a stone wall in front of her with words engraved on it. Reading them, she almost fell over again when she realized what the words meant.

Anna Marie McInnes – Beloved Sister and Friend.

Lightning
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved.

She will die young and without knowing true love. As the storm embraces her, the kiss of lightning will be her death, yet she will be endlessly drawn to her killer.

“Look Mom, I need to concentrate on driving. I’ll call you when the storm has passed to let you know I’m okay.” Even her mother wouldn’t argue with that excuse.

“Okay, Joann. Please be careful. Stay away from the storm. I can’t bear to lose you now.” A hint of tears was obvious in her mother’s voice. Jo knew the pain of her father’s death still hadn’t eased for either of them, even in the three years since he lost his battle with cancer. Her mother was terrified of losing her only child as well.

She hung up the phone and found herself stopping at another light. Only five miles to her house. She certainly should be able to make it in time – she hoped.

The obscure prophecy of her Romani grandmother hung over her head since she was born. All through Jo’s life her mother sought to prevent the curse – for it was really more curse than prophecy – from coming true. Any hint of a thunder storm and her mother would demand that she lock herself in the large guest bathroom, the only room in her childhood home that had no windows.

Jo hated that room. It always made her feel as if she were being suffocated. She tried to avoid it as long as possible, often having to be forced into it by her mother as the storms were breaking.

But the older she got, the more she absorbed her mother’s fears. She didn’t want to die.

Jo pulled up into a line of cars waiting at a stop sign. While she waited for her turn, she found herself watching the storm clouds writhe and twist in the sky. The horizon seemed alive with movement.

A glance in the rearview mirror at the sky behind her instead revealed her own face. Her curly brown hair always reacted badly to humidity and was now a bit frizzy, despite the expensive hair care products she lavished on it. Her face was so pale that the light makeup she had on didn’t disguise its pallor and her hazel eyes appeared huge. She looked frantic. She felt frantic.

When she’d realized the storm was coming in a lot earlier than predicted, she’d told her co-workers that she was suddenly feeling ill and had to leave the meeting early. She could tell by the knowing smirks they exchanged that they were condescendingly amused by their only female programmer’s fear of storms.

But they were wrong. Jo wasn’t afraid of storms. She was drawn to them in an almost irresistible attraction. The only thing that kept her inside in her safe room was the damned prophecy. An avowed disbeliever, she was still afraid that it might be true and had no desire to die.

Finally through the long line at the stop sign, Jo turned down the main road into the area her isolated house was located just as raindrops began to fall. She felt vaguely sick as the rain grew heavier and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

At last she pulled into her own driveway. If she could just get into the house before the power was released. Before the lighting or thunder started. “Home. I’m home.”

She shut off the car and readied her keys, locating the one to her front door. A deep breath and she grabbed her purse and opened the car door, ready to race for the house.

As she slammed the car door shut, she felt it the raw power and presence of the storm surround her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she tried to force herself toward the house but instead stood frozen in awe, unable to move.

The sharp smell of ozone finally broke her free of her paralysis and she ran across her lawn toward the house. But before she could reach the door, she was lifted and thrown backwards through the air.

A small part of her realized she could no longer feel her heart beat as before the blackness enveloped her.

Season's Greetings
(c) 2007 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved.

Steve stared at the pictures covering his mother’s refrigerator. This time of year brought out all her love of friends and family and every new picture she received was proudly added to the display. Christmas was his mother’s favorite holiday and his father always tried to make sure it was perfect for her.

He smiled and gave an ironic little snort. The holidays always seemed so bittersweet now. He loved his family and spending time with them, but he missed Alan. Though they’d been partners and lovers for almost five years, neither one of them had really come out to their families. Thus they ended up spending the holidays apart and fending off the hints and occasional attempts at blind dates set up by well-meaning relatives.

He was sick and tired of the charade. This year he swore he was going to tell his parents, come hell or high water. The night after Christmas, after his nieces and nephews had gone to bed. That way no one’s Christmas would be ruined.

Trying not to imagine the possible reactions, Steve pulled open the refrigerator door and snuck a few pieces of his mother’s almond roca from the tin inside.

“Ummmmm.” He groaned in pleasure as he nibbled off little bits until it was gone and he licked the chocolate from his fingertips. Oh hell, that was a mistake. Alan loved to nibble on his fingers and he could picture just how much his sweet-toothed love would have enjoyed the chocolate coated digits.

The house was deserted but he’d seen the note from his father that they were out picking someone up at the airport and then nabbing his sister’s family from the local snowboarding slopes but would be back soon.

Finally he heard the slamming of car doors and excited voices. The front door burst open and his sister’s kids spewed into the entry, shedding snow gear and yelling competitive trash talk at each other in between laughing at their own mistakes. Must have been a good day on the hill.

“Uncle Steve!” His niece caught sight of him first and raced over to throw herself into his lap. The others followed suit until he was covered in four cold, wet kids, all trying to hug and kiss him at once.

“Kids! Get back here and get your wet clothes off!” Tammy’s voice was warm and full of humor.

The kids obediently struggled off him, one of them narrowly missing kneeing him in the balls. Once free, he headed toward the entry, only to be intercepted by his mother. Steve pulled his mother close in a huge hug, his heart in his throat. This year would change everything. Would he ever have a “normal” family gathering again?

“I’m glad you made it. It was starting to snow pretty hard.” His mother’s voice was muffled as her face was still squished against him. A firm shove from her, and he finally let her go.

“You have to come see my favorite photo Christmas card, Stevie. I just got it and it was so special I waited to put it up until I could share it with you.”

“Umm, okay.” He obediently followed her tiny figure back into the kitchen. From the top of the fridge she pulled down an envelope and opened it to pull out one of those long photo cards. But this one looked suspiciously familiar. When she flipped it over, his jaw dropped.

It was the card he and Alan had sent to their friends. The one with them in a very clearly non-platonic embrace in front of their own tree.

Holy shit. Who sent that to her?

Ignoring his silence, his mother carefully made a prominent place for it on the appliance door and turned back to him. “I love you, Steve. Without reservation. I’m so glad you found someone you love to spend your life with. But I wish you would have told me yourself instead of forcing me to give poor Alan the third degree and put him on the spot by telling him I’d guessed you were gay years ago. Just understand you don’t have to pretend with us anymore, ever.”

His eyes stung with tears. Tears of relief, gratitude and love. He still couldn’t force a single word out.

Then warm arms wrapped around his waist from behind and Alan’s beautiful bass voice whispered in his ear. “Season’s Greetings, my love.”

Sheryl at Ecataromance says this about Del Fantasma: Texas Tea (in part):

Del Fantasma: Texas Tea by Maura Anderson is a riveting tale of the supernatural and also of paranormal creatures. Having read the previous books from the Del Fantasma series this one slots in very nicely amongst them all. I really enjoyed the quirky nature of Texas, and the knowledge that in some way Lara would change his life. I also loved Lara, because she not only fulfilled a promise that had taken years to complete but also because she recognized Texas for his true self and also as her partner, not as a monster or something to be afraid of. Maura Anderson has captured the essence of a love that crosses the boundaries of both paranormal and human while giving us readers a great book to read and one lovers of shape shifters and mystical creatures will fall in love with.

You can read the whole review on the Ecataromance Sensual Blog!

Mandy at Rogues and Romance says (in part):

Gift of the Holly King is a phenomenal fantasy that gave ME a new fantasy! Maura Anderson not only captivated me by her wonderfully non-complicated but intense plot, but with her ability to make her characters feel real enough to touch. The reader can easily identify and sympathize with Kayleigh, and it’s not hard at all to lust after the Holly King! The connection between the two is absolutely electric, and when they come together, look out for sparks!

Babes in Toyland II really blew me away with it’s fun, smart, sexy, and imaginative stories. Every single one of those stories were ones I enjoyed reading immensely, and the folks at Aspen Mountain should get a big round of applause for choosing the perfect blend of fantastic stories for this anthology. Not only did I find Babes in Toyland II a definite keeper, but I found a ton of new authors that I loved. This is one I will certainly be reading again- at Christmas and all throughout the year.

Check out what Mandy has to say at Rogues and Romance's Blog.

Labels: Gift of the Holly King, Reviews

Breathe
(c) 2007 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved.

“He’s a stubborn one, Dragoness. Well know for topping from the bottom and willing to risk any pound of flesh, but never his emotions. Never his heart.”

The familiar voice of Gerald’s hostess, Nicole, was only slightly muffled by the supple leather hood laced over Jared’s head. The hood was his own request and the smell of the high quality leather was almost soothing, a sign to his raging libido that it might soon have at least a bit of release.

The thick leather cuffs clasped his hands behind his back, a short chain connecting them to the cuffs around his ankles. His hard cock was fastened in a leather harness but this time Nicole had gotten creative and connected his nipple rings and Prince Albert piercing with chains barely long enough to allow him to sit upright.

He could take it. He could take anything he needed to.

So he sat proudly erect, legs spread and shoulders back, ignoring the tension on his piercings. The hood’s eye covers prevented him from seeing but he didn’t care. Instead he saw the curvy and compact body of Nikita Garden, the tiny tornado he’d faced and lost to – again – in court last week.

Unlike his co-workers, he wasn’t afraid of her. But he spent every moment in her presence with a hard on, his blood hot with the thrill of the battle and the respect he had for his opponent. A heady mix, indeed. Especially when he had yet to find a Mistress he couldn’t manipulate or win over.

He heard the door close without a word from this “Dragoness” and wondered if Nicole had scared her off, then he heard the tap of heels on the highly polished wooden floor and the snick of the privacy lock.

The sound of steps approached until he knew she was only a few feet away. Then she circled him. The light breeze she generated seemed to caress his skin, raising goose bumps and hardening his tautly pulled nipples.

Around again. Still she said nothing. Who was this woman Gerald had set him up with?

A few steps and he could feel the warmth of her body next to him. The seductive scent of amber and vanilla teased his nostrils and he breathed it deeply into him. Not the subtle flowery smell of a woman who was unsure of herself.

He had to fight to keep his head facing straight ahead.

She stepped behind him, moving slowly. Suddenly he felt the erotic, spine-tingling sensation of her hot breath caressing the sensitive nape of his neck. The feeling seemed to send an electric jolt down his spine to his cock.

Unpredictably, erratically, Dragoness touched different parts of his ever-more sensitive body with just the head of her breath. When she blew a long breath across the head of his rock-hard cock, he lost control and moaned out loud.

He’d never been this turned on before. And from so little.

As if waiting for that concession, footsteps walked toward where he knew the refreshment bar was. A clink of ice. The sound of water flowing. After a moment or two more, he heard the steps approach again.

She was in front of him. The entire surface of his skin tingled with that knowledge. A gentle hand reached out and removed the chains from his piercings, careful not to touch him more than absolutely necessary, despite his subtle attempts to force her to.

Nothing. No touches, no movement. She can’t have gotten up, could she? What the hell? What kind of Mistress would just walk away. He was popular with the club’s patrons – the Dommes saw his size and aggression as a trophy they could display on a leash if they could just tame him. But he stayed unattached, not content with playing the role.

Was he alone?

Jared shifted slightly, hoping to not betray his concern if Dragoness was still there. For his efforts, an ice-cold hand grasped his cock, nearly causing him to fall over in shock. Out of his control, his hips flexed oh-so-slightly forward as the small, cold fingers stroked his cock from base to tip, then just as abruptly released him.

“Mistress, please.” Jared moaned the plea.

As if that was the signal she waited for, his chin was cupped in a cold hand and another peeled off the eye coverings of his hood. He froze at what he saw.

“Good evening, Jared.” Nikita’s sea green eyes stared back into his own.

Labels: Friday Flash