Seduced by Silver
Gwen Campbell
When Meadow accompanies her boyfriend home for a weekend, she expects to try to rekindle their romance. Instead, she meets his father Keefe—mature, sexy and Alpha enough to claim her as his own.
And claim her he does. The heat that flares between them quickly turns to something more and their passionate joining leads to a deeper connection. But Meadow’s father is Keefe’s biggest business rival, and Meadow’s a daddy’s girl through and through—and her daddy’s not going to like this.
Reader Advisory: While the world in this book has the traditional werewolf pack structures, social statuses and hot, animalistic sex, the characters aren’t shapeshifters.
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Seduced by Silver
ISBN 9781419925580
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Seduced by Silver Copyright © 2010 Gwen Campbell
Edited by Meghan Conrad
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book Publication February 2010
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Seduced by Silver
Gwen Campbell
Dedication
In loving memory of Bonnie and her determination to wring every ounce of joy out of every second of her life.
Chapter One
“I wonder if my father would congratulate me on my networking skills or just pitch a fit?” Meadow Quinlan laughed as her boyfriend and classmate, Killian Rand, opened a massive glass-and-metal door for her and walked her into the lobby of his father’s office building.
Killian smiled down at Meadow and gently laid his hand on her back, gingerly touching her hair. It was a gesture that now irked her, but she understood why Killian did it and she didn’t reprimand him. One of the first things, Killian said, that had attracted him to her was her hair. Meadow had beautiful hair—long, down to her waist. It was dark blonde, shot through with red, gold and bronze, straight and heavy like her father’s. But it wasn’t her hair that Killian was stroking, even clinging to, not anymore. It hadn’t been for months now. No, her hair was just an excuse. More and more, Meadow sensed a need in Killian when they were together. He needed the reassurance of her acceptance of his touch.
“Well if it isn’t our young Master Rand! And not so young anymore, either.” The man in the dark suit behind the security desk stood and held out his hand. He was in his mid-forties, with an open friendly face, salt-and-pepper hair—what was left of it, that is—and a large, scarred hand that took Killian’s in a firm, familiar handshake. He stepped out from behind the desk. Standing about a foot apart, he and Killian dipped their heads and smelled each other.
Eupanorian society was a social hierarchy. They lived and worked in packs and everyone had a distinct and comfortable place in that pack. Meadow watched the man with polite interest. He was rawboned and heavily muscled. Her father employed men like him. He was probably a former miner. One whose mine, if Killian’s father ran his business like her father ran his, had been bought out by Mr. Rand in the early years, and he’d been kept on staff to incorporate his experience and strengths into the pack. The guard might look like a huggable teddy bear, albeit one with bulging neck muscles, but Meadow felt instinctively he was the kind of man you wanted beside you when the fighting got ugly and you were glad he wasn’t on the other guy’s side.
The guard in the tailored suit stepped back from Killian and looked down at her. She felt his eyes on her and held her ground. It wasn’t to prove a point, or because his gaze was insolent, which it wasn’t. It was because standing her ground was as much a part of Meadow’s makeup as her hair color and the shape of her nose.
He approached her and tipped his head to the side, sniffing her first, and was rewarded with a quick, sharp growl that carried up into the open-tiered foyer. It bounced off the glass roof eight stories overhead before shooting back down and making the air around them tremble. The sound Meadow made was entirely instinctive. It was her way of telling him that she was a strong female used to sniffing others before they sniffed her. She’d never met anyone who was stronger than her. On her level, certainly, but never stronger, male or female. The man’s head snapped back and Meadow’s growl switched off just as quickly. He’d overstepped, she’d reprimanded him. It was over and not a big deal. With a dawning look of approval, the big man held himself still as Meadow asserted herself as the socially dominant one, tipped her head toward him and sniffed first.
He was, as she’d assumed, in his mid-forties, almost halfway through his life cycle. He was healthy except he didn’t drink enough water during the day. Male, obviously, and mated. She could smell a woman’s pheromones blended in with his, blended like they’d been that way a long time. The barest scent of a female infant clung to him. He and his wife likely had grandchildren.
Meadow’s assessment of the man took about two seconds. Then she let him sniff her.
He looked at her first and she saw his eyes leave her bright green ones and glance down at her body.
Meadow was tallish, five-six, strong and well proportioned with long, runner’s legs. They were still coltish because she was, after all, only twenty. He bent, sniffed near her neck then straightened. He smiled politely and turned to Killian for a more formal introduction.
“Meadow, I’d like to introduce you to Sheffield. My father’s head of security. Sheffield’s been with the company since before I was born.”
Meadow held out her hand and it was enveloped in warm roughness. Brown eyes gazed down at her with open approval.
“Mister Rand said Killian would be home this weekend for a visit and mentioned he’d be bringing his girlfriend. He didn’t tell me what a beautiful young lady you were. Congratulations, Killian.” Sheffield turned back to Meadow’s boyfriend and smiled broadly. “I think you’ve found a real keeper here.”
Meadow smiled and murmured thanks for the compliment. Sheffield led them over to the security desk where they signed in. The guard was still smiling and asking Killian how school was going when he glanced down at Meadow’s signature. His brows furrowed and he stopped talking.
“Quinlan?” he asked dryly and lifted his eyes to hers.
“Yes,” Meadow affirmed with amusement.
Sheffield looked her over coolly for a moment, again taking in the color of her hair, the shape of her nose. “Marcus Quinlan?”
Meadow nodded and this time her amusement was unmistakable. “He’s my father.”
“Hmmph. Should have guessed. You look like him. Although on him, it’s ugly.”
“Yes, well, my mother’s beautiful.”
Meadow flipped her hair back with aplomb, then laughed at herself.
Sheffield just grinned and his brown eyes twinkled. He said he was very glad to meet her and buzzed them through to the main atrium.
Meadow and Killian climbed the arched stairs together. They were both twenty, near the end of their third year of second-schooling and business administration majors. Their first meeting as freshmen, almost three years ago, had been strained.
Meadow glanced around the impressive glass and stone atrium approvingly. Her father and Killian’s had started out as dirt claimers. They’d had next to nothing, but knew a bit about geology, had strong backs and a lot of courage. Like so many others they staked claims in the barren north when they were young. They’d found silver, loads of it, and they’d had the will and the savvy to stick with their mines, working them by hand in the early years, and built up empires in the process.
Knowing how alike her and Killian’s fathers were didn’t ease Meadow’s unease. She was about to meet her father’s chief rival.
Chapter Two
Keefe Rand snapped off the intercom, smiled and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. His assistant had just announced Killian’s arrival and Keefe was looking forward to spending the long weekend with his son.
And looking forward to meeting his son’s girlfriend. Killian had never brought a girl home before. He was twenty now. He’d start getting serious about women instead of seeing them as just friends, pack mates or casual sexual partners.
While he waited, Keefe ran his large, scarred hand over the silver sculpture on his desk. Crafted by a master artisan over three hundred years ago, the piece reminded him what he valued most—a dedication to hard work and love of family and community. He stroked the main figure’s alien head. It depicted one of The Others, as his people had referred to them. Travelers rejected by their own people because of a sickness unleashed by war, who’d hoped to find a new home on Eupanoria. Because both species had been born of the process they’d called evolution, The Others had hoped Eupanorian DNA would lend their descendents strength to fight the sickness. Barely an industrial society at the time, Eupanorian science was too primitive to help The Others, but they’d accepted the travelers, learned much from them and by the third generation, gave what comfort and friendship they could to the remaining Others when they died. The descendants of the original Others never gave up hope. They never stopped fighting. They never stopped loving their mates, friends and the native Eupanorians.
The replica of a human male on Keefe’s desk reminded him of their proud, doomed legacy.
Looking at the door, the loneliness he kept hidden from his pack jarred him. His son, the only living member of Keefe’s family, was on the other side. He couldn’t wait to have Killian back home. And Killian had brought a woman with him. Finally, a sign his son was ready to mate and fill Keefe’s empty home with grandchildren.
Keefe himself had mated at the unusually young age of seventeen. But Keefe was Alpha. He’d felt it early, once he’d hit puberty. He’d quit school and staked his own mining claim at sixteen. His only regret was that his Delphinia had died after they’d been married just three years. They’d found the cancer during her second pregnancy. His wife might have lived if she’d terminated the pregnancy and immediately started treatment, but she’d already felt the baby move and Delphinia valued life above all things. In the end, neither she nor the baby had survived.
Keefe tugged on his custom-tailored jacket like a man more used to shirtsleeves than suits and stepped away from his desk, eager to welcome his only son.
“Now you remember, Killian,” Keefe heard his assistant’s voice outside just before the door opened. “You promised to drop by our place Saturday afternoon. I’ll mix us a big pitcher of margaritas and I’ll tell your young lady what an annoying kid you used to be.”
“Sounds like a lot of fun.” Keefe grinned. Jenny, Keefe’s assistant, was now sixty and had been with his company forever. The daughter of miners and mated to one besides, she’d taken Killian under her maternal wing after Delphinia’s death, taking care of him like one of her own cubs. Jenny was the only real mother Killian had ever known.
“Oh, it will be,” Jenny promised tartly. “Especially if I add a lot of tequila.”
The door opened and Keefe felt his mouth open into a wide, effusive smile when he looked at his son for the first time in three months. “Damn, you look good, Killian. School’s agreeing with you.” He held out his arms and his son walked into them.
They hugged each other briefly then stepped back. Keefe sniffed first, Killian second.
Meadow got her first look at one of her father’s chief rivals. His photo in the Rand Mining Concilium’s glossy annual reports didn’t do him justice. He had dark brown hair, like Killian, and a full, nicely shaped mouth, but that’s where the resemblance ended. True, they were both tall, six-two, but Killian was lightly muscled with slim hips. A swimmer’s body, Meadow always complimented him.
His father was just…bigger. Thick, broad shoulders and big hands that were scarred and calloused, a chest that filled out his pressed, tailored shirt, tapered hips and a flat belly. A body, Meadow thought with wry amusement, that wasn’t unlike her father’s. A miner’s body. One that had seen plenty of manual labor and hadn’t been artificially sculpted in a gym. Although her own father was a couple of inches shorter, about ten years older and was growing a bit thicker in the middle.
Keefe Rand was handsome like his son but his face was mature. It was hard sculpted lines where Killian’s was still softened by boyishness.
When he finally lifted his affection-filled eyes off his son and looked over Killian’s shoulder at her, Meadow realized it wasn’t a trick of the light streaming through the oversized windows that made those eyes seem so dark. Keefe Rand’s eyes were black. They were deep and intelligent and she could imagine a woman drowning in them. It was a wonder a hot, rich guy like him had managed to remain unmated for so many years. Especially if he was as nice and funny as his son was. Mentally, she counted off the thirty-something single women in her father’s pack, wondering if she could set him up with any of them.
Power emanated from Killian’s father like heat from the sun. It was in the positioning of his body, the way he stood, owning the space around him, the set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin. She’d known men like him, had grown up with them. She wondered if he’d ever met a female equal because he was about to.
She stepped up to him authoritatively and waited for the fireworks to explode.
They each immediately tilted their heads to sniff first. Keefe growled a half second before Meadow. They were staccato, rising growls, starting in the mid-range then his got deeper. Hers rose about two tones in pitch, then they both got loud.
Vocal range was one of the key identifiers of social status on Eupanoria. The weakest could snarl and growl, but quietly. They just weren’t physically capable of sustaining warning sounds at any volume. The strongest could roar and after about one second of accelerating growling, both Keefe and Meadow roared.
It was a sound that shook the room and made the keyboard on Keefe’s desk skitter over the polished wood. A sound that made Killian’s head jerk back, along with the rest of him.
“What the hell?” Jenny yelped on the other side of the door an instant after both Keefe and Meadow stopped.
The corner of Keefe’s mouth rose slowly. He’d never heard anything like that from a woman before, and his body reacted as quickly and as instinctively as his vocal cords had—his cock started to get hard.
He slammed the lid down on his arousal with brutal pragmatism. “I like this girl already,” he said quietly and, for the first time since sexual maturity, Keefe Rand let a woman sniff him at the same time as he sniffed her.
Keefe was Alpha and Alphas were rare. They led just by stepping into a room. Their presence and personalities were larger than life. Alphas were the strongest and confident about it. The good ones were just as calm as the lowest-
ranking members of the pack; the bad ones were volatile, savage and could ruin lives and kill entire packs.
Keefe and Meadow moved around each other slowly in a greeting ritual between equals that had been ancient when their ancestors were young, learning each other’s age, health and confidence. Keefe could smell his son on the girl and he approved. He caught a faint whiff of blood from her last menses and knew this was an unusually fertile woman. If she mated with his son, she would give Keefe many strong grandchildren. Keefe looked at her as well—the brightness in her clear green eyes, the curve of her downy cheek, the length of her legs. They smelled each other longer than usual in the way of Alphas feeling out each other’s strengths. If they’d been naked, which was often the case, especially during the summer or before a pack run, he’d would have bent down behind her and smelled her sex to get a full picture of this powerful woman’s health and status. Keefe knew that he’d let her sniff him as well. There were maybe a handful of people on the planet he’d ever met who were powerful enough that he’d let them sniff his genitals. This girl was one of them.
Their faces tipped toward one another and they moved their noses over each other’s scent glands. Keefe especially liked the shape of the girl’s. The two darkened, slightly raised ridges, extending from the end of her eyebrows and disappearing beneath her pale hair were beautifully formed. They dipped their heads at the same time. Keefe ran his ridges over the girl’s, she ran hers over his. Then they stepped apart and smiled politely.
Killian’s shoulders went down and he cleared his throat. “Um, Meadow, this is my dad, Keefe Rand. Dad, this is Meadow. Quinlan,” he added, almost as an afterthought, and wasn’t surprised when one of his father’s dark brows shot up.
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