“They were three assholes trying to drag a poor girl into an alley. What did you expect me to call them?” Stefanie tugged off her hood and shook out her hair. Her heart was pounding, but in a good way. Bouncing on her feet, she unzipped her shirt and let the chilly air wash over her.
“Well, I usually don’t say anything. The less the people remember about you the better.”
“Those bastards better remember my fists in their faces and never try hurting anyone again.” She had laughed when James first suggested they go out together and do the superhero thing. She laughed the second and third time too. Finally, after a few weeks of his begging, she gave in. Carmine was still recovering from the nightmare that ended with an explosion in the city’s downtown center. Crime was still high, and after a gang tried to mug a woman the previous evening, she decided helping clean up the city might be a good idea.
“I think I like this superhero gig.” She remembered the bastards’ faces when she came at them. “A lot.”
“How’s your leg?” James asked.
“Fine. Stop fussing. It’s been over six weeks.” A month and a half since she’d seen her sister, and Starr had tended to her wounds. Their reunion had been tempered by Stefanie’s injuries and Starr’s pregnancy, but things were getting better. Her niece was born and holding that beautiful little baby brought new life into a fractured family. She smiled just thinking about it. “Let’s go back down and find some more troublemakers.”
“That’s not how it works. We watch and wait.” James perched on the edge of the building. “Ever vigilant.”
“Are these the rules of superheroes?” Stefanie rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s go for a run.”
James peered over his shoulder at her. “I thought you wanted to be a vigilante?”
“I want to do something. Helping people or running. Not sitting here on the roof in the cold.” She’d spent far too long lying around while she recovered. At least she’d been able to help Scott, enrolling him in a rehab program. He was halfway through and doing excellently. Now that he was well and she didn’t have to worry about Wyatt finding her, she wanted to thoroughly enjoy her freedom.
“You need to contain your energy and focus.” James put on his best Zen master face. Or was it a Yoda thing? He still hadn’t managed to convince her to watch the Star Wars movies. Any which way, he was immensely cute.
Grabbing his shirt, she yanked him off the ledge and pulled him to her. Her nose nudged up against his. “I need to get out all this energy somehow. One way or another, you’re going to accommodate me.”
“I’ve been accommodating you two or three times a day.” He smirked. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Neither am I.” Stefanie grinned and kissed him. The heat between them had grown over the past month and a half. She couldn’t get enough of him. She was aroused just thinking about having her way with him again.
His arm locked around her, and he caressed her cheek. The scent of him filled her. Mask it as he might, she could still pick it up. It was as familiar now as her own. He was turned on, but there was more in his eyes than simple lust.
“I love you.”
Those whispered words swept the world from under her feet. The wind no longer touched her. The sounds of the city vanished. It was all James.
His muscles tensed, and she recognized panic growing in his expression. How long had she stood there and stared at him in awe?
“I love you too.” She pressed her mouth tenderly to his and ran a hand through his hair. Then she kissed him harder, tongue twining around his. When she broke the kiss, she smiled. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Poor me.” James chuckled and slipped his hands up under her shirt. Cold as it was, his hands were warm against her skin. “Want to go back to your apartment?”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.” She trailed kisses down to his neck, nipping him as she dipped a hand down to the front of his pants to stroke him. He made a groaning sound that was wanton and protesting at the same time.
“But … we’re on a roof … and it’s cold.” James gasped as she teased his bulge.
“I’m sure we could keep each other warm.” She kissed up to his ear and toyed with his lobe. He melted against her. She wrapped one leg around his upper thigh. “There’s a sturdy brick wall right there.”
James hooked his hands under her rear and lifted her, carrying her over to the neighboring building and pushing her up against the wall. Both of them went for her pants, laughing as they fumbled with them.
If this was one of the perks of being a superhero, Stefanie was going to make sure they did this more often. James wasn’t only her Beta, but her mate. There was only the two of them, but they were the most powerful pack she had ever encountered. And the most complete.
THE END
Welcome to the tenants of the 13th Floor!
THE 13TH FLOOR SERIES by Christine Rains
An Excerpt from 1303 – The Dragonslayer
CHAPTER 1
Xan missed the shot.
Screams rang out as chaos erupted on the neighboring building’s terrace. Men and women in the finest designer suits pushed each other to the floor to get to safety. They flipped tables and sprang over chairs. Cameras flashed as reporters snapped photos of the assassination attempt.
Attempt. Xan had been a boy the last time he’d missed a target.
Governor Randall Whittaker stood statue still. His bodyguards who had tried to pull him down and away placed themselves in front of him, but Xan could still see the Governor’s face through his scope: hard and cheek twitching where a thin red line marred him.
An inch off. Even from a distance of three blocks, Xan shouldn’t have been off that much.
The Governor’s gaze locked onto Xan. His target’s eyes narrowed as he bared his teeth.
Xan pushed his rifle away, but remained crouched on the rooftop. The bastard had seen him.
He’d remained too long at the site. Unscrewing the scope on his long arm, he grabbed his black briefcase and jammed it in. He ran to the door with the case under one arm, dismantling the rifle. The door was left propped open with a soda can he’d set there. He pushed it outwards with his foot and sprinted down eight flights of stairs.
His weapon was in pieces and tucked away in a hidden compartment of his briefcase before Xan reached the third floor. Straightening his tie, he exited the stairwell and walked down the hall between the offices. Just another lawyer working late and heading home for the night.
In the elevator, Xan took in a deep breath and let it out with a slow hiss. He’d missed. How was that even possible? The Governor couldn’t have known he was there. Xan had gone early in the day, scouted the place, and gotten his free souvenir at the door. A silly copper coin with Whittaker’s face and slogan. It’d taken nearly a year of planning to find the right moment. This moment. And he’d failed.
The Governor would expect another attempt now. He’d be waiting. And how far could the old bastard see? If he’d seen Xan’s face, there would be little chance Xan would get within a ten-mile radius of him again.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. A bright flash of light caused spots to dance in front of his eyes.
Xan zipped out, snatching the source of the light.
“Hey, buster! Get your hands off my camera!”
The woman, trying to wrangle the camera from his grasp, was tall and all legs. Muscled calves led to dimpled knees and slender thighs. The blue skirt was too short, but at least her heels were a sensible height.
“Let go! The cops will be here any second.”
Xan’s gaze raked up to her face. Long with high cheekbones, fierce brown eyes, and hair that swooped over her forehead. Gorgeous and angry.
No time to admire her. He needed to be as far away from the city as possible.
“You haven’t had time to call the police.” To draw attention away from other personal details, he clipped his voice with a slight Texan accent. “I only wis
h to delete the picture you took, not destroy your property.”
“I can take pictures of whatever I want.” She snapped back, still unable to free her camera.
“No, you can’t. It’s a violation of my privacy.”
“Freedom of the press.” She removed a lanyard with a badge attached from within her jacket. A media pass for the Governor’s charity event. Lois King. He raised a brow, and she tucked her badge away. “Make one comment on my name and I’ll kick you in the shin. Now give me my camera!”
“Miss King,” he said with an edge to his words. “Freedom of the press is all well and good in public places and where they are invited. This is a private building. I didn’t ask you here. And I’m certain no one else is working tonight. How did you manage to get past security in the lobby?”
“Never you mind.” Lois flushed and continued to tug at her camera. “Let go, you brute. You’re going to break it.”
“I’m not going to break it.” Xan yanked it out of her hands and swiftly tapped the buttons to find and delete his photo. “As I said, I only wanted to delete my picture. There. You may have your camera. Exit the way you came in and have a good night.”
He turned away from her. Lovely legs she may have, but she was a parasite. The press drained the life from people.
There was a snap and flash. Xan gritted his teeth.
“Please tell me you didn’t take another picture, Miss King.” He stopped, glancing over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye at her. “I’m in a bit of a rush. I need to beat the traffic.” And the loop he programmed into the building’s security cameras so they’d never know he was there. “Something more newsworthy is happening at the Hilton up the street. Shouldn’t you be there?”
“If you’re referring to the Governor’s fundraiser, then yes, I was there, but there will be several boring photos of the rich rubbing elbows with the powerful. I’d left early when I heard about the assassination attempt on my, uh, radio. So I thought about which building might give an assassin a clear shot.” Lois straightened up and slung her camera around her neck. “Why am I explaining myself to you? You’re just some stuffy egotis—”
Lois went silent. As a predator himself, Xan could feel when hungry eyes were upon him. Parasite she might be, but they were still hunters.
Damn.
“You’re him.” She breathed out, excited laughter bubbling up. “You’re him!” She snapped more photos. “Look at you, tall, blond, and muscled. No lawyer working until this time at night looks like you. Black suit and big briefcase. God, you’re like the stereotypical hit man! Do you guys have some sort of dress code or something?”
No more complications. Xan dropped his briefcase and strode forward. There had been no fear on her face until he reached out to snatch her arm. A brave woman he could respect, but she should’ve taken her photo and run. A smart woman had a better chance at survival.
Lois started to scream, but he slapped a hand over her mouth lest security hear and wrapped the other arm around her neck. She was a fighter. Kicking and clawing. Even a few attempts at basic self-defense.
But he was a warrior by birth. Trained from the time he was two.
Not only had she taken his picture, but she’d seen him. The fake accent wouldn’t distract a woman like her from his face. No one could be allowed to remember him. His calling required anonymity. Best way to make certain of it would be to kill her.
When Lois fell unconscious, Xan picked up his briefcase before lifting her into his arms. His gaze dropped to her legs as they dangled. Her skirt rode up a bit, and he tore his eyes away. No distractions.
One job was botched, but another had to be done. His stomach twisted at the thought. Maybe he could convince her to keep her silence. If he gave her some information on the Governor, she could have her big story.
Xan took the stairs down into the garage and hurried to his car. But what sort of story would compel her to give up revealing who tried to murder the Governor? He knew plenty of dirty secrets about Whittaker. Secret investments, taste for underground fights, and the maidens. Nearly two dozen girls had gone missing from the last decade alone.
An assassin was still bigger news.
Putting down his briefcase, Xan opened the passenger door and gently placed Lois into the seat. He buckled her in, careful not to let his hands linger.
The truth would rock the world, though. Could he convince her of it?
Shutting the door, he pursed his lips. Lois didn’t look so tough as she lay there limply. She was a woman like any other.
No. Who was he kidding? He’d seen the fire in her eyes. No little story would do for her.
But a dragon, there was nothing little about that. And as a dragonslayer, he was the only one who could prove to her that Randall Whittaker was a nightmare out of legend.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, a huge thank you to my brilliant critique partners, Cherie Reich and TF Walsh. Two down, four more to go!
Thank you so much to my beta readers, Colette Chmiel, Clare Dugmore, and M. Pepper Langlinais. You’ve helped make this story shine.
Much love to my readers. I’ve gotten such great feedback from you. Every comment and review is priceless to me.
Finally, thank you to my husband, Keith. Not only are you my best friend, but you’re a fellow geek. I’m grateful you don’t wear argyle. I love your geeky T-shirts more!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christine Rains is a writer, blogger, and geek mom. She lives in southern Indiana with her husband and son. Their cozy little house is stuffed full of books and games. Christine has four degrees which help nothing with motherhood but make her a great Jeopardy player. When she’s not writing or reading, she’s having adventures with her son or watching cheesy movies on the Syfy Channel. She’s a member of S.C.I.F.I. She has eighteen short stories and four novellas published.
The Alpha is the second book in the 13th Floor series. The third installment, 1303 - The Dragonslayer, will be available on February 13, 2013.
Website: http://christinerains.net/
Blog: http://christinerains-writer.blogspot.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/CRainsWriter
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorchristinerains
Email: [email protected]
Table of Contents
OTHER BOOKS BY CHRISTINE RAINS
DEDICATION
TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
EPILOGUE
Welcome to the tenants of the 13th Floor!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
1302 The Alpha (The 13th Floor) Page 7
