I was about to write a blog on the new, just-released special edition DVD of Cinderella. Cinderella, the harmless little fairy tale that may have done more damage to the female psyche than any other in history. :shock:

So, I’m writing my little notes, when I suddenly get that funny feeling. You know the one–the one where you feel like somebody’s watching you, but you know there’s nobody else in the room? :poof:
So when he spoke, yes, I confess–keyboard hit glass of ice water, and damn near got my chocolate bar as I almost jumped out of my skin.

“I hear you’ve been writing again.” The deep, rich tones of the familiar voice poured over me. “I hear you’ve written a story about a friend of mine.”

A moment passes before I can speak. Although I know he can be as quiet as death on a still summer night, he manages to surprise me sometimes. “Gabriel.”

“Hello, Raine.”

I relax into the breathlessness I always feel around him. He’s filling the chair before me, sporting his dark glasses and thin cigar, and his long, black coat falls away from his hard body like a cape. “It’s good to see you, Manning. You look…damn, you look good.”

“Back atcha.” He holds the cigar between his teeth, lightly rubbing the bare shadow of a beard with the back of his fingers–the day’s growth that’s there, I’m sure, because he knows I like it there. “Gray sends his regards.”

Even I, knowing them both well, am slightly stunned. “You know Grayson?”

“Sure. We met…let me think…about 600 years ago. Give or take a century.”

If he weren’t so damned charming, I’d be scared witless by now. “I–I didn’t know you two were…”

“You get a kick out of writing about these ‘forbidden’ subjects, don’t you?” He removed the cigar, pointing it at me and giving me that rakish half-grin that makes the bones in your body melt. I wait, watching. He’s been drawing in smoke for three minutes, but none of it comes out when he speaks. “I like a woman who’s not afraid to take chances. But you be careful, ya hear? Wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you.”

“Happen to me? You don’t think Gray would–”

“No, no. Grayson’s a fine, old-school gentleman, even if he is…well, you know.”

“A werewolf?“

“Yeah, well, we all have our issues.” He laughs. “But he’s like me in that he LOVES women. Especially HUMAN women. He loves the smell of them, the way they move, the way the air in a room becomes all light and silky when they enter, the way they react when you touch their–”

“I get the idea, Gabriel.” I can’t seem to resist grinning. “And of course your ‘friendship’ had nothing to do with the werewolves’ moonlight orgies, or their fondness for gruff, uninhibited sex?”

“You know me too well.” He laughs again, rising to tower over me, and my computer screen inexplicably goes dark. “I’m just here to remind you that Gray can be dangerous when threatened, just as I can. I know you enjoy writing your stories, but there are the other wolves, the ones you touch on in your new book, and other ‘friends’ of mine who would rather stay…shall we say, ‘in the dark’?”

Gabriel curls a forefinger beneath my chin, lifting my face to his. “You be careful, Raine.” He kisses my forehead before giving me a devilish smile. “And sleep well.”

My computer screen flares to life, blinding me for a moment. And by the time I can see again, the Incubus is gone.

The silly little Cinderella blog I was working on is staring at me, and I quickly erase it. Seems pretty irrelevant at the moment.

But the room feels as hot as a furnace, and I’ve got this peculiar urge to hit the sack early tonight.

And I’ve got a pretty good idea what I’ll be dreaming about…