by JL Madore
Nothing out of the ordinary.
In the distance, a chipmunk shrieks as something startles it on the forest floor. What has me so on edge?
I push through the trees. Twigs lash at my muscled forequarters as I trot toward the village, a fresh kill hanging from my mouth. A shiver of anticipation races up my paws from the earth and quivers through my body. It is an indescribable blend of excitement, resolve, and fae magic.
A storm is brewing.
And it’s calling me.
Hawk
“And a rogue group on the western coast is being investigated by human law enforcement. A large money exchange was traced back to a robbery of a gun depository. Preliminary reports from the intel team put the offenders squarely in our camp. How would you like to proceed?... Mr. Barron, sir?”
I pull my attention from the view of the cityscape out my forty-fourth-floor boardroom window, scan the expectant faces of my Fae Concealment executive team, and meet the inquisitive gaze of Jayne, my personal assistant, and self-appointed fiancée.
“Are you with us, darling?”
I smile at the eight men sitting around the table and close the sitrep folder on the table before me. “Thank you, gentlemen. We’ll finish this another time. Proceed as you see fit.”
Jayne stiffens as my executive team scrambles to take their leave. She knows better than to question me.
As the room clears, I move to the glass wall. What is this sensation burning inside me? After unbuttoning my cuffs, I roll my sleeves to just below my tattoos. Then, I loosen the Windsor knot of my tie. My wildling senses are firing, beckoning me to strip down and take to the air.
Why? What calls me?
“You’re so tense,” Jayne says, running her hands down the back of my tailored, Tom Ford shirt.
I adjust my stance to ease the pinch of my boxers beneath my slacks. Why am I so aroused? I close myself off to the fire growing center-mass in my chest. I am the master of my actions and won’t be drawn in by animal instinct alone. Still, it’s a fight. Nothing like this has taken hold of me before.
Jayne’s gaze narrows in the reflection of the glass. “Are you rethinking our engagement?”
I chuff. “How can I rethink something I gave no thought to in the first place?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re in a mood.”
I won’t marry Jayne. She likes to pretend that when she suggested it, and I didn’t answer, it signaled consent.
No. The proposition simply warranted no response.
As a ferruginous hawk, the largest and most deadly species of hawk on the planet, I am a bird of prey, a predator who refuses to be caged.
Clipping my wings would kill me.
I give the horizon one last aching look and turn. The drape of fabric at the front of my slacks hides nothing, and Jayne notices immediately. Her body reacts on a primal level: the widening of her pupils, the slight intake of breath, the stroke of her tongue to gloss those full, painted lips.
She craves what I offer—as women do.
Power. Charisma. The promise of breathtakingly hot sex with no boundaries. She will deny it to the end of days, but the woman is submissive to her heated core.
That’s how I like them—loyal, willing, and hungry to please. And, in my current state of primal demand, I need my PA to personally assist me with a cock as thick and hard as the marble Corinthian columns in the outer foyer.
I run a hand down her blouse and frown.
The closer I draw to her, the less interested I become. That is new. I am hard and hungry but know down to my razor-tipped talons that Jayne isn’t the one to quench this sexual hunger. Interesting.
Not being one to spend time on a dead issue, I sidestep her, round the boardroom table, and stuff my laptop into my bag. Slinging my suit jacket over my arm, I cover the party in my pants and head for the door. “Call Lukas. Have him gas up the Navigator and bring it around to the lobby entrance.”
“What? You’re leaving? It’s two in the afternoon. The Monster Rights Conference is in less than two weeks. What about the fae land contracts? And the internal innovations announcement?”
As founder and CEO of the biggest fae security corporation on the planet, there hasn’t been a day in over a decade that I haven’t worked until well after dark. Not today. I’ll never get any work done with my body and mind at war as they are. Filled with an anticipation, I don’t understand, I set my sights on figuring out what’s affecting me.
My heart pounds with what I can only describe as an insatiable need, and I want to sate it. “Clear my calendar for the week. It seems I have a personal matter to attend to.”
CHAPTER TWO
Calli
I wake nauseous, with a muddy heaviness in my head and silky softness against my cheek. The two sensations don’t mix. How many mornings have I stirred to consciousness, wondering where I was and what happened the night before? I open my eyes, and the brilliance of morning light spears into my skull, forcing me to close them tight again and regroup.
Wetting my dry lips, I fall back on my black-out-Betty party days. Living on my own since fifteen, I indulged in poor decision making and bad behavior enough that waking up like this isn’t an all-together foreign event.
Well behaved women rarely make history, right?
Like Riley always says… said. Past tense.
A happy childhood makes for a boring adult.
I rub the ache in my chest. Boring isn’t a word that could ever be used to describe my BFF. Riley lived life on fire and was snuffed out way too soon.
As the fog hanging over my brain starts to burn off, I focus on the here and now—which is—where and when?
I draw a deep breath and a memory flickers through my mind. I was driving NASCAR fast… Sonny and the Sovereign Sons caught up to me. Riiiight, the power pole.
The echo of bones cracking and crunching in my head brings me fully back to the present. I lift my hands, amazed I can move. Not only move, but without any residual pain. The shift of my legs under the heavy wool blanket makes me startlingly aware that I am naked.
I bolt upright. My head throbs with a blood-rush, and I squint at the fancy bedroom. I’m lying on a mahogany sleigh bed with a swath of golden light casting its warmth through a French-door walkout. The décor of the room is elegant, with gold damask flowers covering the walls, brocade curtains, and a floor-to-ceiling beveled mirror in a heavy gilded frame. The reflective surface faces the glass doors and the illusion it creates, expands the space beyond its actual huge dimensions.
Swanky. Waaay nicer than any place I’ve ever slept—or stepped foot in—legally at least. I rub a hand over my face and stare out the French doors to a backyard that looks like a botanical garden. None of this rings any bells.
Well… other than alarm bells.
“How did I end up here?” Not on my own steam. I remember that much. “And why am I naked?”
I grip the edge of the blanket and look down at myself. An overwhelming rush of heat whooshes through my body as I take stock. It doesn’t look or feel like anyone did anything vile while I took a stroll through unconsciousness.
That eliminates Sonny and the Sons having me. But knowing them, they wouldn’t pass up a chance to make a buck. Those assholes have their dirty dicks in everything, guns, drugs, illegal gambling, human trafficking… Shit.
Did they sell me to some twisted, moneybags perv?
Where the hell are my clothes?
The last thing I remember is crashing out of my car and dying. Okay, so maybe I’m dead. That makes as much sense as anything else.
Muscles tense, I gather the blanket around my shoulders and hop off the bed. Testing my balance for a second or two, I confirm I’m steady and then head toward the dresser. A swatch of familiar green canvas makes my heart flutter.
My purse.
I give it a quick inventory. Everything seems to be here: wallet, twenty-seven dollars, phone, condoms, and the little scrap of paper tucked in my tampon carrier with a Texas add
ress scratched down on it.
Booyah! The first piece of the puzzle slips back into place. “Take from me and I’ll take from you, assholes.”
Drawn into the dark recesses of my mind, I revisit the battered image of Riley’s body when I found her in that alley. No way will other women suffer at the hands of these monsters. Not while breath still fills my lungs.
I can’t wait to see the look on Sonny’s face when I sucker-punch him in the sac and he realizes he’s lost everything… and that I’m the one who toppled his world.
With Riley’s fate fresh in my head, I shake off my car crash ordeal and try not to look at things too closely. Somehow, I am up and about. She died. I lived. Sonny and his goons will pay for taking the only thing I had in life.
The clothes lain out for me still have sales tags on them. Okay, so likely not dead. If this is the afterlife, I doubt LuLu Lemon makes yoga pants for the Pearly Gates Mall.
Or maybe they do. That would be heavenly.
Tossing the wool blanket, I finger through the outfit and by-pass the underpants, because, ew, I’m not wearing undies some stranger bought for me. That’s creepy.
I do, however, pull on the pants and a cotton t-shirt.
Whoever purchased these has an eye for a woman’s size because they fit perfectly, though I despise pastels.
I am more endless night than sweet delight.
After a quick trip to the loo, I tie the snapped ends of my purse strap into a knot, sling it over my head, and stuff the address of Razor’s family property back into my tampon carrier.
Light glints off the back of a silver brush and comb set laid out on the dresser and I consider the value of what they might be worth. I scoop them up, toss them into my purse, and zip things up.
Smart or stupid, choices matter. With no idea where I am or who has me, I may need to barter or trade for a favor.
Raised male voices in the rooms below have me padding toward the closed door. My fairy clothes-mother didn’t leave me any footwear, so barefoot is my new reality.
The volume of the argument downstairs bolsters and muffled shouts overlap. Maybe they’re arguing over who gets the first go at me. I’m not interested in what’s being said, but I am thankful for the heated commotion.
All the better to mask me taking my leave.
I half expect the French doors to be locked, but no. This little bird is free to fly the coup. Padding across the stone terrace, I peer over the iron rail and gauge the two-story drop to the lush grass below. No problem. I’ve snuck in and out of enough windows that this is cake.
A knock at the bedroom door behind me brings my hesitation to an end. “Calliope? I hear you’re awake. My name is Jaxx. May I come in?”
I grip the rail, kick my feet over, and vault into the air. Warm wind rushes past me as my cells burst to life. A good jump always triggers a surge of exhilaration. It’s a rush. As I near the impact of the manicured lawn, I relax, roll, and rise to my feet in what is without a doubt the most graceful move I’ve ever managed.
Hubba-wha? Where did that come from?
The perfectly trimmed grass feels like plush velvet on the bottoms of my feet. I push off and pick the closest point of cover. A man yells behind me, but adrenaline kicks in, and I’m not stopping to ask directions.
“Calliope!” he calls. “Hold up.”
For one split-second, I wonder how he knows my name. Then, I remember the ID in my purse. I don’t look back. If this was a standard roadside rescue, I would’ve woken up in a hospital, not naked in a mansion.
Something is waaay wrong.
I blow past the rose garden and round a gazebo. The sound of distant traffic spurs my hope. If I make it to the road and flag someone down, I’ll—
A massive wolf cuts in front of me and halts my escape. It races past in a silver and chocolate blur, then prowls back around to stand in my way. Head down, shoulders rigid, it stares at me through dark, brown eyes.
Every hair on my body prickles upright.
Holy-crapamoly. I freeze and hold out my hand. Yeah, like that’ll keep the beast from killing me. Where the hell did he come from? Heart hammering, I ease a slow step backward and scan to my right.
A grizzly bear lumbers close, its massive form only twenty feet away. It shakes its boxy head, thick brown fur ruffling beneath his broad shoulders. His big, black nose twitches as he sniffs the air and grunts, looking annoyed.
Heat builds in my chest.
Left then. My head swivels to my other side to assess my chance of escape. A golden jaguar sits silent as death, pegging me with an eerie turquoise stare. His head drops low, its shoulders tense and strung with coiled muscle.
What is happening?
My gaze flips left and right, a pounding in my temples making everything fuzzy. I know better than to turn my back on predatorial animals, but I am surrounded. When the flap of powerful wings sounds directly behind me, I spin toward the house I just escaped from.
A massive bird lets off a piercing screech and drops from the sky. As its talons stretch toward the grass, its form shifts, and a man touches down in its place.
What. The. Hell?
As the birdman straightens, I catch a glorious glimpse of tattoos and his manliness before clothes appear, and he is covered in slick black slacks, and a blue button-down rolled to his elbows. He’s handsome without an ounce of pretty, and ruggedly masculine. “Calliope,” he says, his voice hard and sharp. “Stop and let us explain.”
The dominance of his voice resonates inside me. His tone is commanding and arrogant. It demands submission and I struggle to fight it and stay focused.
I look around. The bear flashes into a beautiful brunette beast of a man in cargo pants and a muscle shirt. He is beyond buff, with well-built shoulders and a brawny chest that fills out his towering frame. “There’s no need to run, beautiful.”
The wolf straightens and transforms into a young man with the rich copper skin and ebony hair of an indigenous American. He is shorter than the other three but wiry and fit. Wearing a denim shirt, ripped jeans, glasses, and a wide leather choker around his throat, he takes my breath away. “No one here will harm you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”
That only leaves—I turn to the jaguar.
The blond hottie that materializes before me is sexy beyond my wildest: tanned, golden skin, with bright turquoise eyes, and a glorious ruggedness that Chris Hemsworth would envy. Packaged in tight black jeans and a supple, linen shirt that hangs open at the front and swaths to his hip, I have a glorious view of the prettiest sculptured abs I’ve ever seen.
Damn. Riley would squee if she saw him—well, them.
I’m struck stupid. I’ve cozied up to a few perfect specimens during my wild and rebellious adventures, but these four put them all to shame. Four stunningly gorgeous men.
And they’re mine.
I blink, wondering where that bizarre wave of possession came from? Before I sort out the cyclone of heated emotions swirling inside me, the hottie blond guy raises his palms and smiles. “Calliope, I’m Jaxx. I get that you’re confused, but if you come on back to the house, we’ll get things sorted.”
Sorted? I’ve been kidnapped by Magic Mike and his troop of sexy shifter strippers. How do you sort that out? Play it cool. I can’t escape four of them. I have to play nice until I see my chance to escape.
“Calli,” I say, checking that the others aren’t moving in while I’m distracted. A breeze comes up and I rake my fingers through my hair and out of my face. “I go by Calli. Who are you? Why am I here?”
“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside?” asks the young native guy. He has a gentle voice and a striking kindness in his warm, brown eyes. I find him utterly disarming and raise my guard. Yeah, no. Less than three minutes ago, he had four legs and fangs.
“No. Out here is fine.”
Jaxx nods. “Three days ago, I found you in a ditch on the side of the road. Do you remember being in a wreck?”
I drop my chin, my m
uscles tensed to run if an opening presents itself. These guys seem to sense my intentions because they remain hyper-focused and coiled to spring.
“Great,” Jaxx says, his Texas drawl as sexy as his smile. “So, when I found you, the impact of the accident had done a number on you. I checked your pulse, and you were VSA—vital signs absent. You were dead.”
Yeah, I sorta remember that.
“Then, to my mind-blowin’ surprise, your body burst into a fiery ball of flame, and you resurrected. When the fire died down, the breaks in your bones had healed up, and the blood and trauma from the accident were gone. You were reborn.”
I snort a laugh and wonder how they’re keeping straight faces. Are they new? Am I supposed to believe this?
“Your skin was still hot as Hades in July,” Jaxx continues. “I wrapped you in a fire blanket and got you out of there. I figured this was a better place for you, since the exposure of the unnatural is the last thing we need, considering...”
I read his expectant gaze, but I’ve got nothing. “Considering what?”
Jaxx frowns. “Considering you’re a phoenix.”
Okeydokey, time to go. My chest is so tight I can barely breathe. A breeze picks up and the sweet scent of honeysuckle drifts around me. It carries with it the unmistakable smell of an expensive cologne, irritation, concern, and manly musk. Whoa, my mind stumbles on that. How can I pick all that out of a breath of fresh air? I must have hit my head. “I’m just a girl who drove too fast and poled her car.”
“And died,” Jaxx adds. He gives me a tight smile, which I might believe is sympathetic if not for him being a jaguar-man holding me hostage.
“Uh-huh. And you guys are what, my welcoming committee to a kinky five-way in the afterlife? I don’t think so.”
His brow tightens. “That’s not what this is about.”
I read the guilty faces staring at me and a shiver of sexual awareness tingles over my skin. Their wanton gazes are subtle, but their seductive urges sing to my core. My heart races. My mouth waters. As tempting as no-strings sexual carousing with four sexy strangers seems, life doesn’t work like that.
