Savage Prince_An Anti-Heroes Collection Novel

by Meghan March

  It’s the last coherent thought I have as my fingers tighten around the edge of the desk. My head begs to thrash from side to side but is pinned in place by his hand.

  He’s taking me. Owning me. Dominating me. Leaving me no choice but to take the fucking he’s delivering.

  And I love it.

  Another orgasm builds and threatens to shatter my grip, and when he changes his pattern, my body is thrown into a new level of chaos.

  Thrust after thrust, I can’t even understand the babbling words spilling from my lips.

  I can’t stop coming. These aren’t multiples . . . they’re continuous, and I’m a writhing, moaning body without any coherent thought beyond—don’t stop.

  He doesn’t. My control shatters along with my grip.

  The blood pounding through my head deafens me, but not enough to miss his roar of ecstasy just before he thrusts slow and shallow.

  “Fuck!” He releases my hair to grip both my hips, pulling them back against him hard as he finally stills.

  For long moments, I wait for my heart to burst because it can’t handle the beating, but finally, it slows.

  This is a moment I’m not prepared for. I don’t know what to say. What to do. What to think. How to justify this aberration in my carefully plotted life.

  What the hell did I do?

  The intensity of the moment fractures as he steps away, the thick length of his cock pulling out of my body. I wait for two long seconds before I flip my skirt down and push off the desk. I have to get out of here.

  A quick look over my shoulder shows me that his back is turned as he walks toward a door I didn’t notice. My logical thoughts are momentarily derailed as my gaze locks on the flex of his perfectly formed ass. Jesus Christ, how is that fair?

  It doesn’t matter. I have to go. This never should have happened.

  I tear my eyes off his ass, grab my bag, snag my pumps, and bolt for the door barefoot. He doesn’t notice my escape until I yank it open.

  “What the—” His deep voice cuts off when I slam the door shut behind me and race for the stairs.

  Run. Hurry. Hurry.

  I trip down the steps, nearly causing myself to tumble down them headfirst, but I grip the railing and keep going. The man at the next level looks up at my panicked exit, but the blood is pounding too loudly in my ears for me to hear what he says.

  I don’t know if I’m expecting some kind of emergency siren to sound, like I’m an intruder who must be stopped, but nothing does. I reach the front door without breaking an ankle.

  “Keys. I need my keys. And my car. Now. Hurry. It’s an emergency.”

  The man straightens with a jerk and nods before opening the door and giving an instruction into what must be a microphone attached to his collar.

  I shove my feet into my heels, then stumble down the last set of steps to the curved driveway, chancing a glance over my shoulder.

  Is he going to chase me?

  Do I want him to?

  I can’t afford to let myself answer that last question as I hustle down to the valet stand.

  I keep checking over my shoulder, expecting the door to burst open any moment, but it doesn’t. My Bronco rumbles around the corner and the valet hops out.

  I practically clobber him in my rush to get inside. Trembling, I slam the door in his face and floor it.

  What the hell did I do?

  Chapter 3

  Temperance

  The question haunts me all the way home, still echoing in my head when I find a spot on the street in the French Quarter and throw the Bronco into park. My confusion dogs my heels as I walk toward the old iron gate that separates me from the passageway that connects to the courtyard outside my tiny second-floor apartment.

  His perfect body and tattoos are flashing through my mind as my heels click on the brick. My heart still thuds in uneven beats, and I wonder if it’s possible to have permanent heart palpitations from the best sex of your life.

  Small price to pay, I think before quashing the thought.

  But I can’t ignore the fact I can still feel him between my legs.

  Why did I do it? Why didn’t I run? It’s not like he wove a spell on me and hypnotized me with his dick.

  That didn’t happen until a bit later. A half whimper, half chuckle escapes from my lips as I reach the courtyard.

  “That you, Temperance?”

  My gaze searches the darkness, interrupted only by the Chinese lanterns and fairy lights hanging from the trees and the watery blue light coming from the splash pool, until it lands on the red dragon emblazoned on the back of a black silk kimono, topped by a fluffy white head of hair.

  Shit. My landlady.

  “I’m so sorry to disturb you, Harriet. I’ll just—”

  She spins around, spry for her advanced age. “Oh, girl, you’ve got sex hair. At least that makes one of us.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut in humiliation. “I . . . uh . . . got—”

  “Done up right by a real man, I’d say. About damn time, girl. I was starting to think you were a lost cause of all work and no play. Almost wondered if I’d have to find a new tenant to get some entertainment around here.”

  I blink twice as she shuffles toward me, fluffy pink marabou slippers on her feet. “You were going to kick me out because I work too much?”

  I knew my landlady was a little nutty, but I didn’t realize she was downright crazy.

  “It would’ve been a last resort. I was going to send you a male stripper first. Girl, you need some fun in your life, and you do nothing but go between here and work. Boring as hell.”

  Her point is finally sinking in, but part of me is still in shock. “I’m boring?”

  “Of course you are. I swear, you go out of your way to stay that way too. But not tonight. Tonight, you look like you got dicked down by a real man.” She takes a seat at the outdoor patio table and reaches for a bottle of wine. “Here’s a glass. Now, sit down and consider part of your rent spilling the juicy details.”

  Dumbstruck, I close the distance between us and take a seat at the table. “It’s nothing. I swear.”

  “Girl, you’re practically walking bowlegged. I’ve been around the block plenty of times. You won’t shock me.”

  I reach for the glass of wine and take a long drink. Good Lord, I needed this.

  “I shouldn’t even be admitting what I did tonight.”

  Harriet’s aged eyes practically light up as she grins. “Those are the best stories. Come now, I’ll take it to the grave.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “I think I accidentally went to a sex club.”

  Harriet’s wineglass clinks the metal of the table. “I knew this was going to be good. How do you accidentally go to a sex club?”

  I tell her about the note that came to the office, and rushing to meet the appointment, assuming I was there to sell whiskey . . . and end with the part about running from the room.

  Harriet claps with childlike excitement. “There’s hope for you yet, Temperance. When are you going back?”

  I’m stunned at her reaction. I didn’t exactly expect her to judge, but I sure didn’t think she’d cheer me on.

  “Never. I can’t. That’s not me. I’m not . . .”

  “Interesting? Sexually adventurous? Up to be manhandled regularly by a real man?”

  “I don’t even know his name!”

  Harriet waves off my concern. “If I had a nickel for every man whose name I didn’t know, I’d be even richer than I am now. You can’t take life so seriously. You’ll never make it out alive. Now, you go upstairs, take the rest of this bottle of wine, and get tipsy enough to forget all the shouldn’ts and can’ts. If you need me to do some stalking to find this guy, just let me know. I have connections.”

  I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of connections Harriet, an elderly artist who has lived in New Orleans for decades, could possibly have, but I wouldn’t put anything past her.

  If she told me she was besties with the Qu
een of England, I wouldn’t be all that surprised.

  I reach for the bottle, intending to pour her another glass, but she stops me.

  “Don’t worry, I have a second one chilling. Go run along and drink. If you want to skinny-dip later, you’re more than welcome. I’ll be in my studio until dawn.”

  A sharp pang of envy lances through me at the thought of spending time in a studio, creating something from nothing.

  One more thing I shouldn’t be thinking about.

  I don’t have room in my life for that either anymore.

  I grab the bottle of wine by the neck and give her a smile. “Good night, Harriet.”

  “Bonne nuit, Temperance.”

  Chapter 4

  Temperance

  I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Friday night, and not just because I can feel him with my every step. No other experience in my life comes remotely close.

  And I have absolutely no idea who he is or how to get in contact with him.

  That’s probably a good thing. Right?

  He’s still on my mind when I walk into the distillery on Monday morning. As soon as I turn the key, the heat, humidity, and scents wash over me. This is familiar. Sane. Not impulsive and crazy.

  I’ve made a career for myself. A name for myself. Within these walls, I have respect, and no one questions that I deserve it. I’m not some girl from the bayou, running wild and trying to survive despite the shitty hand life dealt me.

  As my heels click on the old concrete floor, I remind myself that even though whiskey isn’t my passion, this is the right path for me. It doesn’t matter that I spend more time here than I do in my own apartment. This job is a privilege that I’m doing my best to prove I deserve.

  Going off the deep end and letting my wild side come back to life isn’t going to help me prove a damn thing except I’ve lost my mind. I have to put him out of my head.

  No more club.

  No more beautiful tattooed man.

  No more getting off track.

  I turn the handle of my office door and freeze when I see the lamp on my desk already lit, and thick-soled leather boots resting on my calendar.

  What the hell? My hand automatically reaches for the gun in my purse.

  “Shoot me, and you’re gonna be the one to patch me up.”

  My brother’s distinctive voice halts my movements in a way nothing else could.

  “What the hell are you doing here? Get your damn boots off my desk. You can’t be here.”

  I can’t even imagine how the hell Rafe got inside. My boss’s husband has this place locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Or maybe the Tower of London. After all, Keira is his crown jewel.

  Rafe’s boots stay exactly where they are. “I can’t come ask my little sister if she’s lost her goddamn mind? Because that’s the only reason I can come up with for you to be at Haven.”

  “Haven?” The word comes off my tongue as though it’s foreign.

  He slides his boots off my desk, leaving traces of mud on my calendar that make me itch to slap him silly.

  I’ve worked too damn hard to not leave a mess everywhere I go, but Rafe is a different story. He’ll never be anything but a bayou boy, and he doesn’t see a damn thing wrong with it. Hell, he’s proud of the fact.

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, girl.”

  I glance down at my watch. “I don’t have time to pretend. I have a meeting with my boss starting in an hour, and I have two hours of work to get done to prep for it.”

  “Then maybe you should’ve worked this weekend instead of spending time at a sex club.”

  My mouth drops open as shock ricochets through my system. “Are you having me watched?”

  He shrugs. “I ain’t got time to babysit you, Tempe, regardless of how much you apparently need it.”

  “Who told you?”

  Rafe eyes me. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you’ve lost your damn mind. I don’t care how high-and-mighty you think you are these days, there are some places you don’t belong, and Haven is one of them. There are some bad motherfuckers that go there to get their kink on, and I’m not talking about people like us. I’m talking about the rich and powerful kind who would chew you up and toss you out with the trash.”

  His warning hits me hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “And you shouldn’t. Ever. Stay away from that place and anyone you see coming or going outta there.”

  I plant my hands on my hips. “And how do you know so much about this place?”

  “Don’t matter, but the fact that I do should warn you off even more.”

  I roll my eyes because I’ve gotten this lecture a dozen times. My brother definitely falls under the category of bad motherfucker. He doesn’t live on the right side of the law on his best day. I’m not sure he ever has. One more reason why having him in my office is less than ideal, regardless of the fact my boss’s husband is the wrong side of the law.

  “I’m not talking about this with you. So, if that’s all the reason you have to be here, feel free to see yourself out the way you came in.”

  Rafe hauls himself out of my chair and stomps across the room. “Tempe, you’re better than that shit. Better than those people. You’ve got a life here. A respectable one that you’ve busted your ass for, because God knows, you’ve lorded it over me plenty. You want to lose everything? Then keep associating with the people at Haven.”

  I meet his dark brown eyes, eyes that mirror mine. “I don’t need you telling me what to do anymore. I’m doing just fine on my own.”

  His jaw tenses like he wants to strangle me. I recognize the look and ignore it. After a few long seconds of a staring contest, he lets out a sigh.

  “Look, you’re all I got left. You expect me not to worry about my baby sister, then you’re fucking crazy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He snorts. “You’re not fine, Tempe. You ain’t been fine in a long while. But I ain’t got time to fix that right now. I gotta go. I got a job. A big one.”

  Rafe never speaks to me about work, so for him to bring it up, especially here, means this isn’t just a big job, it’s a big job. A chill works its way up my spine because I know Rafe’s line of work isn’t the kind where you’re guaranteed to make it home safe and sound.

  “Where? What?”

  He tilts his head to the right. “You know better than to ask that kind of shit.”

  “How long? When will you be back?”

  He reaches out and flips the end of my hair. “You know I won’t miss your birthday, so before then sometime.”

  The uneasiness building inside me subsides a bit. “You’re sure?”

  His hand claps around on my shoulder. “Damn sure. But you gotta promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  “Trust your gut. If something seems off, tell Mount. Don’t hesitate. He’ll know what to do.”

  A chill snakes down my spine like someone just walked over my grave. Maybe because Rafe has never told me to go to anyone else for help. Ever.

  “Rafe . . .”

  “It’ll be okay. We’re always okay, aren’t we?” He yanks me in for a hard hug. “Don’t go reminiscing about your wild-child days either. You got an itch to scratch, go out on a date with a banker or a lawyer or something. Stay the fuck away from Haven.”

  I squeeze him hard. “Don’t tell me what to do. Just come back safe.”

  “Always do.”

  He releases me and I watch him walk out of my office, my unease climbing with his every step.

  Lord, keep him safe. He’s all I’ve got left.

  Chapter 5

  Temperance

  “Knock, knock.” I rap on the wooden doorjamb of my boss’s office fifty-eight minutes later, injecting a cheerful note into my voice.

  Keira, my blindingly gorgeous redhead of a boss, smiles when she sees me. “Hey, Temperance. I was just about to order breakfast. You want your usual?”

  I don
’t turn down food. Maybe it’s because I went to bed with my stomach growling too many times as a kid, or maybe because I’m perpetually hungry. Either way, my answer is a foregone conclusion.

  “Absolutely.”

  Keira’s lips, slicked red, curve into a smile, and for a second, I’m reminded of the masked woman Friday night. The woman I watched . . .

  I need to block that out and pretend it never happened, but the vivid memories make it nearly impossible.

  Thankfully, Keira doesn’t notice my hesitation, because she’s already on the phone to place our typical breakfast order.

  I settle into a guest chair in front of her desk with my notebook on my lap. It’s full of checklists and final details that we have to run through before the big fundraiser Seven Sinners is hosting on Thursday night for Mary’s House, a local women’s shelter.

  After our successful Mardi Gras party for the Voodoo Kings football team, word spread that Seven Sinners is the perfect place to hold high-profile events that need extra panache. Now we’re up to our eyeballs in requests, and my job, which was already busy, has taken over my life completely, leaving no time for anything else.

  That’s why it didn’t even occur to me to question meeting a potential customer on a Friday night. Even though I should dig to the bottom of how the hell the mix-up occurred, I’m far too embarrassed to admit what I did.

  Over and done with.

  Never to be thought of again.

  Except in the dark of my room late at night.

  This event-planning aspect of my job wasn’t exactly what I signed up for, but it’s not like I was going to say no to Keira. She’s a great boss, and being promoted to COO of Seven Sinners is more than I ever expected when I hired on as an office assistant.

  When Keira hangs up, she smiles at me again. “So, what do we need to tackle first?”

  “Donors will begin dropping off auction pieces today. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just keep them all in my office so there’s no chance of them getting misplaced or damaged.” To myself, I add, especially because my brother won’t be popping in for any more visits for a bit. The same feeling of unease creeps through me, but I push it away.