by I. T. Lucas
True, he could’ve ordered takeout, but there was also the issue of his bed being messy, and probably not quite fresh smelling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d changed the linens. Not that they were all the way into the gross category, but Bridget deserved better.
He’d thought about buying her a present in D.C. but eventually had given up on the idea. First of all, Bridget was loaded, just like all other clan members, and what Andrew defined as a reasonably-priced gift, she might consider trash. Secondly, he had no idea what to buy for a woman in general and for this one in particular. Dr. Bridget’s tastes gravitated toward the practical.
Except, she had a thing for red.
Damn, just thinking about those spiky red heels of hers was enough to get him hard. But it wasn’t as if he could buy her shoes. And even if he were one of those guys who could guess a woman’s shoe size, hers were probably the kind that cost over a thousand bucks—not something he could afford on his government salary.
So yeah, the only things he felt confident buying for a woman were chocolates and flowers.
But at least he wasn’t as clueless as Bhathian, who didn’t even know how to behave around one, or what to say.
The guy had been terrified of going to see the long-lost daughter Andrew had found for him. So much so that he’d asked Andrew to accompany him to her coffee shop, just so they could sit there, pretending to be customers. It hadn’t been a good feeling to bail on the guy, but Andrew had had no choice. Her place had been closed on the evening he’d delivered the news of her existence, and the next day he’d been told to pack up a suitcase and hop on a plane to Washington.
The trip had been a total waste of time. He’d spent two fucking weeks in Homeland Security headquarters—stuck in boring meetings, listening to bureaucrats who believed they knew best how to devise a plan of action that could’ve been condensed into five paragraphs on one yellow-pad page. Actually, it was exactly what he’d brought back.
One fucking page.
They could’ve bloody emailed him. Anyway, no one had listened to what he’d had to say.
Fuck, he hoped Bhathian hadn’t waited for him to go see the girl—correction, woman; earlier this year the guy’s daughter had turned thirty.
An hour later, Andrew knocked on Bridget’s door. Luckily, no one had hitched a ride with him on the elevator that had taken him from the clan’s private parking level up to her floor. And by no one he meant Bhathian.
He planned to call the guy after his reunion with Bridget.
Andrew and the doctor had a lot of steam to release. The entire time he’d been away, he’d been preserving his energy for the insatiable immortal.
Today, he would show her staying power.
She opened the door, wearing a long white T-shirt, spiky red heels, and nothing else. “Andrew, you have no idea how happy I am to see you,” she purred.
“Not as happy as I am.” He lifted her up for a kiss, kicking the door closed behind him. She wrapped her legs around his hips.
Bridget was naked under that semi-sheer thing, every curve and shade of her generous breasts and aroused nipples clearly visible, and the bedroom was too far away.
Turning around, he pinned her against the nearest wall. “I can’t wait,” he groaned, holding her up with one hand and going for his belt buckle with the other.
“Let me.” She pushed his hand away and opened things up for him. Freeing his shaft, she guided it into her moist heat. Bridget was drenched. He hesitated, but only for a split second, before ramming inside her with one powerful thrust.
On a groan, her head hit the wall behind her.
With the wall holding part of her weight and her thighs locked in a tight grip around his hips, he needed only one hand on her ass to keep going, and he put the other one to good use, pushing her shirt up and palming a breast.
Bridget did one better, pulling the thing over her head and tossing it on the floor. Now, she was completely bare save for the shoes.
They could stay on.
Damn, this was so fucking hot.
Thumbing one perky nipple, he pinched and tugged, taking turns and giving each the same loving attention.
Bridget’s hands shot into his short hair, and she gripped his skull, bringing his head closer for a hungry kiss. As their tongues and teeth dueled, her sharp incisors were winning, and as she bit down on his lower lip, she drew blood.
Feisty immortal.
He brought his hand down on her butt with a loud slap, then gripped both cheeks and begun pounding with gusto.
“Yes! Oh, dear fates, yes!” Bridget seemed oblivious to the fact that she was being banged into the wall with such force that the plaster was cracking, and small particles of paint were flying in the air.
If she were mortal, she would’ve bruised badly.
Liberated by her resilience, Andrew kept going hard.
It was so fucking good to feel vital, strong, male. But as he neared his completion, Andrew had the passing thought that as amazing as this was, something was still missing.
“Now,” Bridget hissed.
He obeyed her command, synchronizing his climax with hers and coming hard inside her—his shaft milked by the convulsing muscles in her sheath gripping him harder than any fist.
“God, Bridget…” He fumbled for words as he lowered her.
Her thighs trembled a little, but as her feet touched the floor, she was steady. “Come to bed.” She bent and pulled his pants up but left them unzipped. “I don’t want you to trip on the way. I still have a use for you.” She winked and walked away.
To his relief, he saw that although her back was slightly reddened, the skin looked intact. But as she sauntered ahead of him, he noticed that one of her curvy butt cheeks still bore a faint outline of his handprint. That one, he didn’t mind. Not at all.
In fact, he felt his shaft give a twitch. Good, the abstinence was paying off. Tonight, he would be able to last, hopefully for as long as it would take to satisfy the lustful immortal.
Two hours later, a Victoria’s Secret lineup naked parade wouldn’t have gotten a rise out of him. And if tongues could get sprains, his would’ve been sporting a brace.
The merry tune Bridget was whistling in the kitchen was like a slap to his manhood. She was going to kill him, pleasurably, but he’d be dead nonetheless.
Andrew closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. One didn’t need an immortal’s superior nose to smell the thick scent of sex on the bedding, and if he had an ounce of energy left in him, he would’ve gotten all domestic and taken them off for her.
Still naked, Bridget sauntered into the bedroom with a loaded tray and placed it on the side table. “Sit up. I’m going to nourish you. You look pale.”
“I wonder why?” he said as he propped himself up on the pillows and took the coffee mug she’d handed him.
“Poor baby. Too much for you?”
Now, that was mean.
“Not at all. Give me an hour and I’m back up.” Not if my life depended on it…
“Aha. Sure. Whatever you say.” She handed him a pastry.
As he chewed, he was reminded of the call he still owed Bhathian. It would have to wait until he could move.
“This is good. Where did you get it?”
“I was on Fairfax earlier today, and the smells lured me into this new bakery, I don’t remember the name, but it’s on the box if you want to write it down. I bought an assortment to try it out, but I’m afraid this is the only one left.” She smiled sheepishly.
“Oh, yeah? Who ate all the rest?”
“I did.”
“How many?”
“Eleven. There were twelve in the box.”
And here he’d thought that Bridget only ate veggies. With an appetite like this for baked goods, it was a miracle she wasn’t fat.
He appraised her lean midsection. “Where do you pack it all?”
“Breasts and butt.” She patted the aforementioned parts.
“Then by all means,
eat more. I love your curves.”
A sad shadow clouded her eyes, but only momentarily. She shook it off so fast Andrew wasn’t sure if it had really been there or if he’d just imagined it.
She grinned. “You and the construction workers renovating that old office building on Olive. Every time I pass by, they whistle and comment.”
“Want me to beat them up for you?”
She laughed. “Why on earth would I want that?”
“Some women find it offensive.” He shrugged.
“I don’t mind the whistling, but the comments they think I can’t hear…”
“My offer is still on the table.”
She leaned and kissed his cheek. “You’re so sweet.”
“What is it with immortal females and calling me sweet? Even my own mother never called me that.”
She kissed him again, on the lips this time. “What’s the matter? Your machismo got hurt?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes.”
Bridget refilled his coffee mug and handed him a piece of an apple as a peace offering.
“Can you stay the night?”
And prove himself a liar when even three hours later he would remain as limp as a noodle? No way. “I wish I could, but I got to talk to Bhathian. There is something I promised him to do, and I didn’t have a chance because of that damn useless conference my boss sent me on with barely any notice.”
“You could come back later…I’m flying out to Baltimore tomorrow…”
“I thought Julian’s graduation was next week.”
“It is, but I wanted to spend some time with him, and he made plans with his roommates for a road trip after the graduation.”
Damn, he hated to disappoint her, but he hated the prospect of staying even more. His suitcase was still in his car because he’d come here straight from the airport, and tomorrow was another long workday. He needed to go home.
Andrew pulled her into his arms and kissed her lips gently. “I’m sorry, but I just have to go home and unpack, check what alien life forms are growing in my fridge…” He tried for humor, and it worked.
She smiled. “Fascinating, save some samples for me.”
“I promise to save something better than disgusting growth for you to play with.”
“And what might that be?”
“Life force? Energy?” He made a face.
Bridget laughed. “After another ten days of nada, you’ll need it.”
“I know.”
Chapter 2: Sebastian
Standing on top of the old monastery’s newly added third-floor balcony, Sebastian leaned over the railing and glared at the cars parked outside. A damned parking lot was one more thing Sebastian realized he had neglected to plan for his new base of operation in the picturesque Ojai.
The front of the building looked like a junkyard, and during daytime it was even worse.
From his balcony, he should be gazing at a grassy lawn and flowerbeds, not a bunch of used cars scattered on top of packed dirt.
A paved circular driveway and a fountain with a statue at its center, surrounded by rose bushes, would have made the place look grand.
But hiring workers now that the warriors were all in residence was problematic. Training would have to be suspended, and the guys would have to make themselves scarce.
The men hardly matched what one would expect of those visiting a restful spiritual retreat.
There was no helping the cars, though, the men needed vehicles to transport themselves to and from the clubs they were now scoping nightly in search of male clan members. Tom and Robert had gone shopping, and in a few days had managed to fill the lot with a bunch of used cars. Sebastian would’ve preferred to go into a dealership and lease a fleet, but Tom had insisted that buying from private owners was more discreet.
All in all, they now had twenty-nine vehicles at their disposal.
One was a big truck, for just in case, and the rest an assortment of minivans and SUVs. While the troops shared the used cars at a ratio of three to one, Sebastian had insisted that he and his two assistants each had their own brand new vehicle.
For obvious reasons, all had darkened windows.
The cars were serving dual purposes. The obvious one was transportation, but also, when needed, the back seats could be folded to provide a place for a quick fuck.
With his basement brothel low occupancy rate, his troop’s needs had to be satisfied off base.
Over the last two weeks, Sebastian had been able to find only five girls for his brothel. Not enough to take care of seventy-five immortal warriors, two assistants, and one sadist. But there was only so much he could do in a day, and snagging the right females required investigative work that took time.
Most hadn’t been the right fit.
Which reminded him that there was another issue he hadn’t accounted for. Human females required sunlight and fresh air to stay healthy and in a good mood. Thralling was not enough to counteract the underlying depression the lack of natural light and tiny jail rooms were causing.
He’d come to the conclusion that he couldn’t keep them cooped up in the basement twenty-four hours a day.
On Pleasure Island, the women enjoyed several swimming pools, above-ground bars and restaurants, and the beautiful, tropical ocean. It was a gross oversight on his part to not realize the importance of those amenities.
Sebastian should have known that the exalted leader of The Devout Order Of Mordth, Lord Navuh, never did anything without a good reason. If Navuh had chosen to provide his whores with outdoor recreation, it had been only because it was crucial for the women’s health and their ability to provide the exceptional services his secret island was known for.
Sebastian pulled out his phone and selected Robert’s number. “Grab Tom and meet me outside.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Robert was a lost cause. Jogging down the stairs, he glanced at the spacious recreation room. The men were done with their chores for the day, and several were taking a break playing pool or watching a movie before going to their rooms to get ready for the nightly club patrols.
There had been a lot of grumbling about the domestic chores they’d been assigned, but he had no intention of getting more humans on the premises to perform the cooking and housekeeping duties. Perhaps once the basement rooms were all filled, he would divert his attention to finding at least a decent cook. He was sick of the barbecued steaks and hamburgers the men were taking turns preparing.
Other than that, the lazy fuckers could keep on doing laundry, sweeping floors, and cleaning toilets. It wasn’t as if they had that much to do during the day. Five hours of training was enough to keep them in shape, and the rest of their work was done at night.
Outside, the mountain air was crisp and cool, and other than the rumbling voices of the men inside, he could hear only the chirping of crickets and the hooting of the occasional owl. Even the coyotes didn’t dare go anywhere near the compound.
“You wanted to see us, boss?” Tom said from behind him.
“Yes, I want to do something about the grounds.” He waved his hand at the vehicles. In the weak moonlight, their colors were faded, all looking like different shades of gray and black. “I don’t want to see this out of my window.”
Robert glanced around at the gentle hills surrounding the former monastery. “This is the only flat area.”
The problem with subordinates who were good at taking orders was that they didn’t think independently, you had to chew everything for them.
“What do you have in mind?” Tom asked.
“I want the parking lot to be moved over there.” Sebastian pointed to the side of the building. “And I want a circular driveway with a fountain in the center. The rest of the grounds need planting; grass, flowers, trees, the works.” Sebastian began walking. “Come with me.” He motioned for them to follow.
At some point, the back of the property had had grassy lawns wit
h gravel paths meandering through them, but now there was nothing besides overgrown weeds and construction debris that hadn’t been taken care of yet.
“I’m thinking of putting in a swimming pool over there, and an outdoor bar with shaded trellises on that side. We’ll need to bring in large, mature trees to create a green canopy around the whole thing. Girls lounging in bikinis are not exactly what one expects to find in an ‘Interfaith Spiritual Retreat’.”
Robert looked intrigued.
“And how do you suggest we do it?” Tom asked.
“That’s what I need to figure out. If it were only planting, I would’ve had the men do it, but for the pool and hardscaping we need a contractor with heavy equipment.”
Robert crossed his arms over his chest and started pacing back and forth. “Curfew,” he uttered a few moments later. “We need to coordinate several contractors with large crews to come and be done in a few hours. We’ll have the men on lockdown in the house while the construction is going on.”
“What about the cars?” Tom asked.
“We park them in a line on the side of the road, one behind the other.”
Sebastian clapped Robert’s back. “Great idea, Robert. We could tell the contractors that there are guests in the retreat and work needs to be confined to a predetermined number of hours a day. This will also explain the cars.”
The guy, who was tall to begin with, seemed to grow a few inches. “Thank you, Sebastian,” he said without stuttering or mumbling for the first time.
Clap, clap, clap. “Finally,” Tom said.
Click here to Find out what happens next!
Book 7 in The Children of the Gods Series
Dark Warrior Mine
Is available on Amazon
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