by T. S. Ryder
Sloan shrugged. “I got hungry. I sent her home to avoid having her for a midnight snack.”
In the process of buttoning his pants, Michael froze. “You didn’t choose to snack on any campers by any chance?”
A wicked grin spread across Sloan’s face, and he remained silent.
“Sloan,” Michael growled.
Sloan chuckled. “Relax, no humans were harmed. Okay, I’ll admit it, I followed you to make sure no one witnessed your little night flight.”
“Thanks, but I’m always careful. You’re the reckless one, remember?”
Sloan’s eyes narrowed. “Screw you, Michael. I’ve managed to keep what we are a secret just as well as you have.” He huffed. “You’ve had your fun, and I’ve had mine. Let’s go home, shall we? I need some shut eye before practice tomorrow.”
“Yeah, let’s go,” Michael agreed.
Both men strolled casually through the Colorado woods, at ease in the night. The area was their usual nightly playground. They could hunt smaller animals with a low risk of discovery.
***
“Mr. Carrington, don’t you think it’s time for me to start getting more serious assignments? No, that won’t work.” Clearing her throat, Rachel Forbes tried again. “Mr. Carrington, I have been with this paper for one year. It’s time I started getting more serious assignments. No, I demand that I get more serious assignments.” Rachel stared at herself in the mirror, putting on her fiercest expression.
She let out a groan. Who was she kidding? There was no way she could walk into her boss’s office and make demands. She didn’t have the balls. Her shoulders sagged in defeat.
“I’m going to be stuck writing the damn advice column forever,” she grumbled. Scowling at herself in the mirror, she huffed. She didn’t work her ass off for the four years of her journalism degree to write the advice column. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“I’m going to do it,” she declared. Luckily, no one else was in the ladies room to witness her talking to herself. She straightened her jacket and flipped her shoulder length black hair. Turning, she marched to the door and yanked it open.
Rachel walked at a brisk pace down the corridor to her boss’s office. The closer she got to Mr. Carrington’s office, the more her courage seeped away. By the time she reached his door, self-doubt had presented itself completely.
“Damn it,” she hissed, walking past the door. She headed to her office, cursing herself for being a coward. Rachel plopped down in her chair to stare at her computer. “Well, I guess the advice column isn’t too bad.”
“You need to get out of the habit of talking to yourself, Ray.”
Rachel glanced up with a smile at the sound of the familiar voice. “Hey, Oliver. Now that you’re here I don’t need to talk to myself. Sit, talk to me, save me from myself.”
Oliver James took a seat in front of her desk and crossed his legs. He flicked back the lock of burgundy hair that had fallen over his eye. “What are you bummed about this time?”
“My entire life,” Rachel replied dismally.
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.”
Rachel sighed. “I’m serious, Oliver. My life isn’t where I thought it would be.”
Oliver gave her a sympathetic look. He leaned forward. “Tell Aunty Oliver about it, honey.”
Rachel’s brows shot up in amusement. He always told her he was born the wrong gender. She sighed and commenced the whining. “I want to be free of this damn cubicle and the advice column. I didn’t get my degree to give sex advice to desperate housewives, for goodness sake. I can’t even get my own love life together. I don’t have a boyfriend, yet I’m giving relationship advice.” She sat back in her chair and huffed.
Oliver shook his head. “Well, complaining about work and your love life isn’t going to help. It’s up to you to take action. Get your cute ass up, march into that old fart’s office and request a change. As for the boyfriend part, you need to put yourself out there.” He paused. “If I didn’t swing the other way, I would totally do you, sweet thing. That chocolate skin of yours and those big brown eyes are everything.”
Rachel snickered. “You always manage to cheer me up, Oliver. You’re awesome. What would I do without you?”
“Crash and burn,” he drawled, studying his well-manicured nails.
“You’re probably right,” she murmured. “You’re also right about me going to Mr. Carrington. Even if I get turned down flat, at least I tried. Right?”
Oliver nodded solemnly. “Right you are, sister.”
Rachel hesitated for a few seconds, nibbling her lower lip. Carpe diem. She pushed her chair back and got up. “I’m doing it this time.”
“That’s my girl. Go,” Oliver cheered on.
Rachel found herself in front of her boss’s door for the second time that morning. She knocked quickly, before she could chicken out again.
“Who is it?” The gruff, raspy voice called.
“Er, Rachel.”
“Come in.” She pushed the door open and stepped in with a gulp. Henry Carrington looked up. “Ah, Forbes. Just the person I wanted to see. Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair in front of his desk.
Rachel’s brows elevated. “Um, o-okay. Thanks.” Had she done something wrong? Oh no, I’m going to get fired. She tried to calm her nerves and keep her composure.
Mr. Carrington pinned her with shrewd blue eyes. “It’s time for you to move on from the advice column, Forbes. You would like to write more serious pieces, wouldn’t you?”
Her eyes widened a fraction. She nearly looked upward with a smile. It seemed the big guy upstairs was doing her a favor. “Um, yes.”
“Good. I’ve got something for you.”
Well, that was easy. Okay, maybe my life doesn’t suck that much, after all. If her luck held up for the rest of the day, maybe she would find a man by tonight. “Fantastic. Is it an interview with a public figure? Will I be covering the opening of the new school?” She couldn’t wait to hear what it was.
Mr. Carrington smiled slightly. “None of the above. You’ll be doing an article on Michael Pryce.”
She stared at him blankly. “Er, okay. I’m not familiar with him.” Was it someone she was supposed to know? She felt daft all of a sudden.
“He is an up and coming NFL star, Forbes. Don’t you keep up with sports? He plays for the Broncos.”
Rachel’s heart dropped. Sports? What the hell did she know about the field? The only sport she took part in was walking to her kitchen to get snacks. “B-but I- are you sure I’m the right person for the job? Maybe something in politics would suit me better.”
Mr. Carrington huffed. “Look, Forbes, I don’t have time for the debate. The usual sports writer is on vacation, and I have no one else to do it. You’re my last resort. Either you take it or get back to your office to give some ladies advice.”
The last resort? Well, don’t you know how to make a girl feel special? Jerk. Mr. Carrington continued, “What will it be, Forbes? You know, filling in for the sports column could mean a better post for you here in the future. Prove your versatility and the advice column will be a thing of the past. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
Of course it was what she wanted. There was no way she could refuse now, not with the promise of a promotion. She forced out a smile. “Yes, I’ll write the best darn piece about Michael-er- the football guy. Sports is great. I just love the MFL.”
“NFL.”
“That’s what I meant.”
“Good, you can head down to the stadium tomorrow. Mr. Pryce will be expecting you.”
Rachel smiled, got up and backed out of the office. “Alright. Thank you, sir.” Once on the other side of the door, her smile dropped along with her spirit. “The freaking sports column?” She strolled back to her office, no cubicle. Could she pull off a sports piece? She had no idea. But she had to make it fantastic so her skills could finally be recognized. If doing one measly article on a sports star was what it took to
rise to the top, she sure as hell was going to pull it off.
Chapter Two
Michael stepped out of the shower and slung a towel around his hips. As he rounded the corner he nearly ran into his coach. “Pryce! Good job today.”
“Thanks, coach.”
“I’ve been watching you, kid. You play like a man possessed, the best damn quarterback I’ve seen in a while. The fans are watching you too. Your name is on everyone’s tongue. Have you noticed?”
“Uh, I guess.” No, he hadn’t.
“We’re going to take advantage now and make you the face of the team, kid, starting with getting you in the paper. Everyone wants to know who Michael Pryce is.”
Michael eyed Coach Reynolds with masked annoyance. He didn’t want to be recognized. All he wanted was to blow off steam playing a game he loved. If people knew the real him, he would no doubt be chained up in a lab to be prodded and studied. “I’m not interested in the notoriety, coach. There are plenty of other men on the team who deserve such recognition.”
Coach Reynolds scowled. “No doubt there are, but a reporter from the Denver Post is already on the way to interview you. Embrace the recognition, kid. Many would kill to be in your position.” He nodded and walked off before Michael could protest any further.
Michael let out a sigh. Great. He was going to be saddled with some annoying, inquisitive reporter. Maybe Sloan was right. Maybe they should pack up and move to another town. They had been in Denver long enough, much longer than they usually spent in one place. But he’d had the brilliant idea of getting into sports, and two years later they were still in Colorado and playing in the NFL no less! Maybe joining a team and interacting with people wasn’t such a great idea, after all.
He walked into the locker room and plopped down on a bench. It was hard for him and Sloan to just disappear this time around. They were a part of something that had gained them recognition.
“Why so glum, superstar?” Sloan asked. He was leaning casually against a set of lockers as his friend walked in. As usual, Michael was sulking about something. Sloan shook his head. After centuries running around the world with his best friend, he couldn’t get the man to lighten up.
Michael glanced around the locker room. He lowered his voice in case any of their teammates were in hearing distance. “Coach just told me that a reporter is coming to interview me.”
Sloan’s lips spread into a wicked grin. “Awesome, invite him over to our place. We can make a meal out of him tonight.” Michael’s brows furrowed and he shot Sloan a disapproving look. Sloan chuckled. He loved pissing Michael off. “Kidding.”
He straightened. “What’s the big deal, Mikey? It’s just an interview. You’ll answer a few questions and take a picture. Relax for once in your life, man. Anyway, I have to get going. I have plans with a delectable little brunette.” Sloan’s eyes ran over Michael’s bare torso. “If you hurry home, we can share her,” he drawled. He winked and sauntered out of the room.
Michael stared at Sloan’s retreating form. His friend’s suggestion caused a stir in his groin. The thought of sharing yet another woman was quite appealing. It was too bad he had to stay put and wait for the damn reporter.
The sudden commotion in the room pulled him from his thoughts. He could hear a few of his teammates whistling. He leaned forward to peer around a row of lockers. His eyes widened at the sight of the woman stood in the doorway. Sweet mother of God. Who was she? The woman wore a dress that hugged her generous curves like a second skin. She turned to Jake, one of his teammates, and asked him something.
With his enhanced hearing, Michael heard every word. “Good afternoon. Is Michael Pryce here?” Her tone was soft and melodious, music to his ear. Would her moans be as sweet if he had her pinned beneath him, plunging into her softness? He blinked twice, bringing his thoughts out of the gutter. She was here to see him. Perhaps she was the reporter he was supposed to be expecting. He had assumed that the interviewer would be a stuffy man, but the fact that she was a delicious-looking woman made the prospect of an interview suddenly more appealing.
The voluptuous woman turned in his direction and sauntered toward him. He assessed her to be about five feet nine inches tall, but he took off about four inches without her ‘come fuck me’ heels. His gaze moved upward, taking in full breasts and the face of an angel. As she drew closer he could see that her mocha skin was flawless, her lips were red and sensuously plump, and her honey brown eyes were almond shaped. Her raven black hair was caught in a high bun, accentuating her long, graceful neck. A Nubian goddess, he thought.
She made eye contact with him and smiled nervously. “Hi, are you Michael Pryce?”
I’ll be anyone you want me to be, baby. He stood up. “I am.”
***
Rachel shoved her embarrassment at walking through a male locker room filled with sweaty, muscular football players aside as soon as she set eyes on the man in front of her. For any other woman it would be a sex paradise, but not her. She was way too shy. Her dismay had mounted when she asked for Michael Pryce and was shown into the locker room. She’d had to walk past a bunch of half-naked men who whistled and threw sexual comments at her. The comments thrown her way could make a prostitute blush.
This was Michael Pryce? Her eyes ran over him from head to toe. God, he was beautiful, every hard, toned, bronze inch of him. She gulped, realizing that all he was wearing was a towel slung loosely on his narrow hips. One wrong move and his covering would slip to the floor. She found herself hoping that the towel would fall. She pursed her lips and quickly brought her gaze back to his face. Sea green eyes studied her intently. His chiseled jaw gave him a masculine, alpha male edge and his sexy lips were curved into a knowing grin. He knew she was checking him out. Kill me now.
She cleared her throat lightly. “I’m Rachel Forbes. I’m here to do your interview. I’m sure you knew I was coming.”
“Rachel Forbes,” he drawled in a deep, silky voice, making her toes curl in her stilettos. “Yes, I was expecting you.”
She gave him another once over, her mouth drying. “Perhaps this is a bad time. I can wait outside until you get dressed.”
Michael’s lips lifted along with his shoulders. “I’m not shy. Are you?”
“Um, I think it would be better if you were…clothed.” There was no way she could form any straight thoughts with such a magnificent male specimen in front of her.
He chuckled. “If you think so, Miss Forbes. It is Miss, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
He gave her another sexy grin, his green eyes sparkling. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Rachel nodded and took a step back. “Great.” She turned, biting her lip hard, and took off towards the door. She gritted her teeth as the whistling and shouts of ‘hey sexy, you want to do a piece on me?’ commenced. Ugh, oversexed athletes. She let out a breath and leaned against the wall. Michael Pryce had gotten her hot and bothered. It had to be because she was seriously sex deprived. She needed to get laid, preferably with Michael. No, no no. I can’t think about having sex with my subject. Besides, it wasn’t like he was interested in her, or ever would be. He probably had tall, slim, leggy women gracing his arm and bed every night.
Minutes later, Michael walked through the door. He let out an aggravated sigh and shoved his phone into his pocket. He would have to postpone his interview with Miss Forbes. Sloan had called moments ago, telling him that someone had broken into their house but nothing had been taken. It was no random break in. He knew who was behind it.
Michael spotted Rachel leaning against a wall. He couldn’t help giving her another once over. “Miss Forbes.”
She turned to him and smiled. “Please, just Rachel.”
His lips curved. “Rachel. I have some bad news. I can’t do the interview right now. I just got an urgent call.”
She frowned. “Oh. I hope everything is alright.”
“It will be. How about you come to my place, later?” He didn’t know why he blurted that ou
t. He should have told her to come back tomorrow. Inviting Rachel to his place was asking for trouble.
Rachel blinked. His place? As in alone in his house? That didn’t sound like a good idea. But she had to get the interview and write the article. The rest of her career depended on it. “Alright, just give me your address and the time.”
He rattled off his address and told her to drop by around 7:00. He would have things settled by then. “See you later, Rachel.”
“Okay. Hey, wait. Here’s my phone number just in case.” She slipped him a piece of paper and watched him walk away. What a fine human specimen.
Chapter Three
Sloan paced the kitchen of the huge two story house. His fists clenched and unclenched several times as anger radiated through him. He should have gone with Michael to confront the house guest they received earlier, but Michael had insisted on going alone. Apparently, Sloan was too much of a hot head and would most likely aggravate the situation.
Damn right he would. All he wanted to do was rip someone’s head off, or better yet shift into his dragon form and make toast out of someone with his fire breathing ability. And the person who he wanted to hurt so badly was one of their own. Ronan. Damn the bastard. The dragon shifter was unhinged and that made him dangerous. He wanted to create a dragon shifter uprising because he had some deranged vision of a world run by dragon shifters. All shifters were wary of Ronan. He was a threat to them all.
Ronan has been following Michael and Sloan for decades, trying to convince the two shifters to join forces with him. They were among the few oldest and most pure-blooded dragon shifters and would be generals in Ronan’s army. They, of course, wanted nothing to do with the man. Both men wished to live peaceful, semi-normal lives among humans. They thought Ronan had given up since they hadn’t heard from him in three years, but it seemed the evil scoundrel was back.
Sloan let out a frustrated growl and moved to the counter to uncap the bottle of vodka resting there. So much for playing ball and bedding women, he thought. Worrying about Ronan certainly put a damper on the fun. Taking a long swig from the liquor bottle, he sat down on a stool. He might as well get drunk until Michael returned with news.
