Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart
Page 35
Scooting back, Aaron rolled clear just as the loud pop of two handguns echoed in the ancient chamber they were in. He looked back to see the jag lying still, his head and chest oozing blood.
A low, tired groan caught his attention. Reya.
On unsteady feet, Aaron eased around the dead jag’s body to Reya’s side just as she stood up. Even in the dim light of the torch-lit shelter, she was beautiful. Scratches, wobbly furred legs and all.
"Uh, Aaron," Austin queried, gun still raised. "That’s a fucking jaguar. Step away, little brother."
"Real slow…" Anthony finished the sentence.
"It’s okay. She’s a friendly jaguar. Saved my ass more than once from this cat you just shot." Aaron sank to his knees and buried his face into the neck of the most beautiful creature any of them had ever seen this close up. In pain, but apparently all right, she licked his hand as he ruffled the thick hair behind her ears.
"Oh god, Reya. I was so afraid I’d lost you this time. I love you so much, I don’t know what I would have done. This is the last time you’re out of my sight, I swear," he whispered fervently into her ear.
So unique, even if she weren’t a shifter. Beautiful, strong, capable and fearless. What more could a man want? Well, actually he did want something more. And now was as good a time as any to try to get it.
For her ears only, Aaron said, "You never gave me an answer to my question. Will you marry me, sweetheart?"
Ducking her head under his hand, astonished gasps sounded from the amazed men standing near the entrance as she purred loudly. He would take that as a yes.
Looking up, laughter bubbled up out of his chest at Anthony and Austin’s astonished expressions. What a Kodak moment! Pretty sure he’d never seen that look on either of their faces in his entire life, Aaron chuckled then winced as the punctures in his neck pulsed. He’d forgotten all about the bite from the dead cat. But he’d worry about that later. Right now was for family.
"Can your new brothers pet you, sweetheart?"
The large black jaguar flopped to the ground, laid her head in Aaron’s lap and licked her paws. Nobody moved. After a moment, her large gray eyes turned on the two James brothers, standing with their mouths hanging clear down to their knees. With a muted roar and a little encouragement from Aaron, they too kneeled on the dirt-packed floor to touch the silky fur of a regal black jaguar.
* * *
While his brothers dragged the lifeless body of the rogue male out to the main trail, Aaron sent Reya home under the noses of Anthony, Austin and the search parties. An hour later, a radio transmission flashed through from the ranger station. Reya had been found. She’d been attacked by a rogue jaguar but managed to make it back to the station.
Way to go, sweetheart, he thought, impressed with her ability to sneak past a whole pack of humans walking around in the pitch black of the jungle with night-vision goggles. And she must have hauled ass to make it back so fast. Hell, he wouldn’t mind being a shifter!
Aaron radioed back that the rogue had been killed. But where was Marc?
Later, as Dr. Matons saw to her injuries, Aaron swore she was never getting out of his sight again. Reya explained Marc’s whereabouts and his temper hit a new high as he tried to control the murderous urge to go back to where they’d left the body and kill him all over again.
Marc was a shifter—a two-faced, lying, killing, woman-stealing shifter. And now a dead shifter. When the bastard died, he’d remained in his animal form. Without the life-energy to fuel the change, his carcass would give away no secrets. Aaron’s beautiful Reya, and those like her, would keep their secrets and remain safe and undiscovered for yet a while longer.
Epilogue
Enjoying the cool ocean breeze at the rear of the brand spanking new high-class fitness center, Aaron stood on the private pier built just for Reya and marveled at the radiance beaming across the face of his new wife. The breeze whipped her black curls around her head and the sun kissed her cocoa skin. His eyes drifted lower, admiring the sparkling white bikini hugging her curves. The woman made his mouth water.
"Hey, you two!" came a high-pitched, but sweet, call from the wide balcony above. "Don’t stay under too long, children. Our plane is leaving in less than two hours."
"Yes, ma’am," Aaron called up to an older woman, the spitting image of Reya in thirty years. Aunt Sulu. After Reya refused to get married without her only family present, Anthony and Austin had taken it upon themselves to surprise their new sister-in-law. In truth, she had them all wrapped around her finger. It didn’t matter which finger, the pinky or the thumb, they were all well and truly caught up over her.
They’d sent a jet for Aunt Sulu and flew her all the way to Belize to attend their wedding then talked her into staying for a month to get to know Reya’s husband and his doting brothers who were, as Aunt Sulu put it, "good-looking with muscles as big as melons and sweet as old-fashioned pecan pie".
Waving to the short, little dark-skinned woman with graying locs down to her waist, Aaron took Reya’s hand as they walked to the end of the pier.
"I still can’t get over your love of water," he grinned, pulling her into his arms. "I thought kitty cats didn’t like water?"
"Actually, most big cats are very good swimmers."
"Your skin looks so yummy when it’s wet. Can I have a taste?" he teased.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifted her lush lips for his kiss and purred. God, he loved when she purred deep in her throat like that. It made him think of being deep in her throat.
After a quick peck on the neck, she pulled her scuba mask down and fell backward with a splash into the azure blue ocean.
Aaron was right on her tail. Literally.
# # #
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About T. J. Michaels
TJ is a USA Today and NY Times bestselling author, and her books have won multiple awards in several romance genres, including paranormal, fantasy, sci-fi and urban fantasy romance. Writing like a madman, TJ hasn’t lost steam. Her mind? Yep, that’s gone, but steam there is a-plenty. A true Taurus, TJ isn’t slowing down and she’s definitely too stubborn to stop when she sees the fence! No matter the genre TJ is penning, her favorite thing to do is build worlds. To take you somewhere extraordinary. To transport you to a place where you can close your eyes and slip into your fantasy…
Other Books by T. J. Michaels
Carinian’s Seeker, Vampire Council of Ethics Book One
Serati’s Flame, Vampire Council of Ethics Book Two
Hatsept Heat, Vampire Council of Ethics Book Three
Seeker's Solace, Vampire Council of Ethics Book Four
Silk Road, Seals of Destiny
Spirit of the Pryde, A Pryde Ranch Shifter Story
Niah's Pride, A Pryde Ranch Shifter Story
Jaguar’s Rule
Forever December
Egyptian Voyage
On the Prowl
Entwined Hearts
Shards of Ecstasy
Caramel Kisses
Death and Roses
Anthologies
Mastered: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender
Doing it the Hard Way
Feral Fascination
Wild Winter
Excerpts
If you would like to read more T. J. Michaels stori
es, she recommends His Obsession Next Door. An excerpt is included below.
Carinian’s Seeker
Vampire Council of Ethics, Book 1
T.J. Michaels
Beautiful genius, Carinian Derrickson, wants to live long enough to date a man from the future generations of spacemen and starships. She's not crazy, she just refuses to die young of some dreaded disease, like all the rest of her family. Her research into gene therapy has shown her the way—she’s going to emulate traits only before seen in fiction. Vampire fiction. Only…the beings that shouldn’t exist are very real indeed.
Unknown to her, there's a bad boy vampire in the lab next door with a goal quite the opposite of hers. If he has his way, he'll bring the Vampire Council of Ethics (V.C.O.E.) to its knees.
Jon Bixler is a Seeker for the Council—an assassin and undercover operative in a world of humans. Bix must get close enough to this rogue to find out exactly how he plans to dismantle the Council. And Carinian is just the ticket. But when he meets her, all his vampire common sense flies out the window. What’s he going to do now that the woman has put herself in danger by secretly trying to do the impossible?
Bix and Carin can’t deny the combustion of love and lust between them. They accept their mating. But can they stay alive long enough to enjoy it?
Excerpt
Before he could close the door to his unexceptional hotel room, his cell phone rang. He knew it wasn’t Carin calling him back. The special ring tone identified the caller as a member of V.C.O.E.—the Vampire Council of Ethics.
He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it carelessly over the only chair in the room, and then sat on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes before answering. A silky sweet voice reminiscent of smooth jazz music floated across the line to him. The voice was deep for a woman, but sensual. It fit her perfectly. Too bad Bix couldn’t stand the bitch.
"Have you acquired the target?"
Bix ground his back teeth on a deep breath and ignored the implied insult. God, he didn’t feel like doing this right now.
"You will not question me, Natasha. I’m more than capable of doing my job. In fact," he said for probably the fiftieth time, "I’ve been dressing without my mother’s aid for quite a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive, actually."
"Now, now, Jon. You’re getting testy in your old age," Natasha purred. "As the V.C.O.E. Liaison for the Western territories, I’m just doing my job. You know that, don’t you, lover?"
Lover? Would she ever give up? Resting his elbows on his knees, he stretched his neck from side to side and forced his body to relax. When he tuned back in to the voice on the cell phone it was droning on about some boring piece of nothing or another. He took charge of the conversation with his annoying Liaison and brought it back to business.
"I have acquired the target, Natasha. You may report to the Council that she is scheduled to fly back to San Diego tomorrow, just as they arranged," he drawled in the most bored voice he’d ever heard himself speak. "I’ll be sure to contact you as soon as Dr. Derrickson leads me to Sidheon."
"Dr. Derrickson, is it? Surely you’ve gotten past the formality of last names with her, Jon," Natasha said cattily.
Bix didn’t bother to answer. He put the phone on speaker mode and tossed it on the bed. His pants hit the floor, followed by his shirt and underwear. Naked, he ducked into the small bathroom and turned on the shower.
While the water warmed, he strolled to the closet and pulled out his only set of clean clothes for tomorrow. The dirty laundry was stuffed inside a duffel bag and tossed next to the door for easy retrieval before his jaunt to the airport in the morning. After a lengthy silence, a hard, angry female voice crackled over the phone line. Natasha. Hell, he’d almost forgotten she was there.
"The temporary house in San Diego is all set up, Jon. Alaan will pick you up at the airport and assist you as needed."
Bix called over his shoulder with a distracted, "Fine," glad his best friend would work this case with him. Excellent. He ducked into the bathroom again and flipped on the faucet over the small sink. "What about the territory leaders in California? They know I’m coming?"
"All taken care of. I don’t have any additional intel other than what I sent you yesterday before you flew to Colorado. If anything else comes up, I’ll try to get it to you before you board your plane to San Diego tomorrow."
"Yep," he mumbled his response around his toothbrush.
"Good luck, Jon. I look forward to seeing you when you report back to headquarters."
"It may be a while," Bix mumbled, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "If there’s nothing else, Natasha, good night."
"Good night, lover."
Bix clicked off the speakerphone and snapped the unit shut. It landed on top of his bag at the door as he headed for the shower. His hand settled on his left shoulder, digging into the muscles there. Odd. It was tight, sore and pulsing. He hadn’t worked his shoulders this week at all, but the pain was acute.
The bathroom filled with a fog of soothing steam. He stepped into the tub and yanked the shower curtain closed. The strong, hot spray of water pulsed over the muscles of his back and thighs as he searched inside himself for the source of his discomfort. His keen senses dipped below his skin, into his veins and slid along and through his muscles. When he searched the connective tissues of his throbbing shoulder there was nothing unusual. But if it was perfectly fine, why the hell was it so sore?
He shut off the shower and headed to bed. Under the cool sheets and scratchy blankets, his thoughts settled on a beautiful woman with dark brown eyes and skin, and a body to die for. A body he wished he could cuddle up to right now.
His fingers had itched all through dinner to bury themselves in her thick, curly hair to see if it was a soft as it looked. The short-sleeved tee she wore let him look his fill at smooth-as-velvet skin over sleek muscle. His thoughts strayed to the elegant curve of her neck. Keen ears had picked up the strong pulse beating there as they’d talked and laughed over their meal. He imagined the same beat now. Strong. Steady. His cock swelled and pulsed in time with the imagined thump of her heart.
Hell, it was going to be a long night.
# # #
Handcuffed to the Sheikh
Teresa Morgan
The last thing Maxine Foss ever expected was to be handcuffed to a sexy, but crazy, guy who claims he's an Arabian prince... and is determined to seduce her. Best. Abduction. Ever.
Copyright 2014 Teresa Morgan
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Epilogue
About The Author
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Chapter One
If she hadn't been so bone-deep jetlagged, Max Foss might have paid more attention to the ominous profile on the other side of her front door. She might have reasoned that it was pretty late for a natural gas scam artist to prowl around her Newark, Delaware neighborhood, looking for someone to fall for the old "I can save you so much money if you'll just give me your credit card number" trick.
As it was, she was too exhausted to realize how stupid it was to open her door to a stranger so late at night—even if the stranger had a clipboard. She'd just come home to find the contents of her fridge seemed to have aged months in the week she'd been at a five star all inclusive in the Dominican Republic. All her plants had died... not just died, but mummified. She'd never had a green thumb, but she'd tried so hard to keep this batch alive. It wasn't fair to a bunch of plants that didn't have much of a chance under her care in the first place. Dust swirled up out of the carpet whenever she took a step, sending her into sneezing spasms. She'd won the ticket in a radio contest and had gone away to relax. Now all she could see was the work ahead of her.
Her irritation and her overdeveloped sense of justice sent her crashing down the stairs to her sunken foyer as soon as the bell rang, determine
d to take a chunk out of anyone who tried to take advantage of her or her friends who lived in the neighborhood.
As soon as she had the door open, and he turned to face her, caution came crashing back. The guy lounging against the door frame like he owned it had sixty pounds on her, and all that was solid muscle. He also wore a fierce expression, as if she'd pissed him off just by opening the door. The way he looked down at her without lowering his set jaw spoke of a controlled rage that made her stomach clench.
All of this was probably good, since he also radiated a mysterious sexuality that might just have gotten a credit card out of her if those sensual Michelangelo lips hadn't been turned down at the corners. And those eyes. If they had contained a shred of decency in them instead of angry fire, would have been as tempting as any dark chocolate truffle.
Some instinct made her grab at the throat of her hoodie and zip it up another couple inches.
His hand tightened on the clipboard as his smoky, narrow-eyed gaze scraped over her body, bunching as if trying to make a fist. That was all it took to set her temper ablaze. Unreasoning fury sparked behind her eyes.
"Nobody wants you here." She lifted her nose in the air. "Take your con game someplace else."
"Con. Game," he repeated, a not-quite-British accent tingeing his deep caramel voice. Disbelief and rage dripped from those two words.
She slammed the door on him. Or at least meant to. Really meant to. But the clipboard was in the way, jammed in the doorframe. Then, without warning, he was inside, filling up her little foyer. His big form was just inches away, and coming closer.
An instant of shock passed over her. Had that just happened? He'd forced his way inside? He paused, seeming almost as stunned as her.
"Well, that was easy," he said, sounding confused.
Her surprise broke, replaced by terror. Oh God, this was a nightmare. A surge of adrenaline sent her scrambling up the stairs... Her phone was on the table. Could she keep him off until she dialed 911? Probably not. What else could she do? Her heart thudded an insane beat as she raced up the steps.