by Meg Ripley
“There’s a truck over there,” Stephanie said. “Hurry.”
Everything became a blur as Sera raced at Seth’s side, hurrying towards their salvation. Seth pushed her into the front seat and Stephanie took the wheel, crowing triumphantly when she located the keys in the visor. Sera allowed herself one last look at the cabin as they sped away. She saw a shadow moving near the doorway, and she found herself hoping it was Aiza’s. She stared until she couldn’t see it anymore, until the cabin fell away from sight, swallowed by the moonless night.
10
Sera called her boss and told her that she would not be returning to work. Her boss begged her to reconsider, asked her if a raise would make her change her mind at all, and finally said with a sigh, “If you ever want to come back, you know where to find us.” She called her landlord next and advised him she would not be renewing her monthly lease, and to keep the security deposit to cover any funds he was entitled to. She called her parents and didn’t tell them anything important—she didn’t mention Aiza, or the Wolf Brotherhood, or even Seth and the baby. She merely stated that she liked it in the northwest, and she would give them a call once she was settled.
After that, she spent a lot of time simply sitting quietly and thinking. Her guilt over her sister’s demise was unquantifiable, even though she knew logically that it was none of her fault. Aiza had been an adult who made her own choices, and yet Sera couldn’t help but think that her sister would still be alive if only she had gone home. If only she had listened to the sheriff when he warned her to let it go. If only she had listened to Seth when he warned her there were not people she wanted to be involved with.
The events in the cabin didn’t make the news. No police came knocking on their door to demand an explanation for all the bodies, and though Seth upped security and warned his entire pack to be on the lookout for Brotherhood members, there was no sign of the biker gang.
“Won’t they want revenge or something?” Sera asked.
“They likely want all of this to go away,” Seth said. “We’ll continue to be cautious, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”
But Sera disagreed. They had a lot to worry about. She was growing bigger by the day, and it was only the reality of her child that kept her grounded to earth, kept her eating, kept her sleeping, kept her sane.
“What do you think happened?” she asked Seth one night.
“I think Aiza stole money or drugs or guns from the Brotherhood. Or maybe Dwight did and she was his accomplice. Maybe she even took the fall for it and that’s why they went through all the effort to fake her death.”
“Did you kill her?”
“I don’t know.” Though the words were inconclusive, she knew they were honest.
“I hope she’s still out there. I hope…”
“I know. Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For putting your life at risk to save mine.”
Sera snorted. “I nearly killed us all with that stunt. I should have stayed home and sat tight, like you said.”
“Maybe. But you know what? Nobody’s ever loved me enough to risk their life for me. You thought I was mad at you, but I wasn’t.”
“You weren’t mad?” Sera asked.
“Of course not.” He kissed the back of her neck and she felt herself relax against the heat of his mouth. “I mean, I wasn’t happy that you would blindly stumble into a dangerous situation, but...I felt better when you were there. I feel good knowing you have my back.”
“I’ll always have your back,” Sera said. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” His hand went to her stomach. “And I love this little pup. When will you let me make it official?”
“Official? Are you asking me to marry you?”
“I am. I can’t imagine my life without you, Sera.” He paused for a moment, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Well, what do you think?”
“I think…” Sera took a deep breath. “I think I’d love to be your wife.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“It’s a definite yes.”
“Perfect. Just tell me what you want and it’s yours,” Seth said. “Your dream wedding.”
“My dream wedding?” She could never have her dream wedding, because her dream wedding would include her entire family, but with this man, she’d have the wedding that she never dreamed was possible. And with him at her side, she would have the foundation for a new family. A close family full of love and support and kindness. A family like she never knew before. A pack. “Just as long as I have you, all my dreams will come true.”
As she said the words, she realized how true they were. For as much as she lost, she’d gained the world.
THE END
Part V
Mated By The Dragon Boss
Mated By The Dragon Boss
April Bancroft never thought she would find love, and she certainly didn’t think it would be in the form of Mads Durkheim—her boss and one of the world’s biggest media moguls. It’s totally unlike her, but she can’t resist his charm, his looks, or the heat of his body when they touch. A part of her hopes that a business trip to Los Angeles might turn their relationship into something more than strictly professional—but high in the Hollywood Hills, she’s introduced to a world that she could never even dream of.
Mads Durkheim has been alive and alone for a very, very long time. One of the last of the dragons, he believes he will never find the woman meant for him—until voluptuous April walks into his office. He can’t put his finger on exactly why, but she soothes the fire raging inside of him. He wants nothing more than to keep her close and safe, but mortals are never safe when they meddle in the affairs of dragons.
When April is caught in the crossfire of dirty business and ancient feuds, will their bond be enough to save her?
1
“Ms. Bancroft, why are you always so cold?”
April looked up from the ever-changing constellation of dates and appointments and blinked at her boss, Mads Durkheim. “What? I’m not cold.”
“How many layers are you wearing?”
“Three.”
“Does that include the blanket?”
She looked down at the afghan her grandmother had knitted for her over twenty years ago. It was the perfect size for her lap and she took it everywhere with her. It might be strange for a grown woman to have a security blanket, but she was, in fact, always cold.
“No. I sit under that vent, and it’s always on.”
He held his hand up to the vent. “It feels fine to me. Here, feel how warm I am.” He turned, swinging his bare arm in front of her face so she could touch him, as instructed. She registered the heat—against her cold fingers he felt like a living fire—but that wasn’t all she noticed. His smooth skin covered thick muscle, and the tendons twitched under her brief touch. She pulled her hand away quickly.
“You’re very…” She swallowed the rasp out of her voice. “Warm.”
“And your fingers are like ice! You really are cold, aren’t you? Here, let me show you something.”
He leaned over her to reach for the computer mouse, minimizing her screen and double clicking on another icon. Misty, the woman who had trained her to be Mads’ personal assistant, had warned that that program accessed the climate control for the entire building. “Never touch that,” she’d said. “He’s very particular.”
“Look, just drag this here. Then you can adjust the temperature.” He demonstrated by raising it from 67 degrees to a more toasty and tolerable 78. “Better?”
Better? How could she even begin to notice when the scent of his skin was filling her head? Her boss was a very attractive man—a fact she had done her best to ignore in the eight weeks since he hired her as his personal assistant—and he smelled very, very good. He wasn’t quite touching her back, but she could still feel the heat coming from his body, and if she leaned back just a little—less than an inch—she would feel the solid muscle
of his chest.
“Well?”
She glanced upward to meet his golden-green eyes and had to look away just as quickly. “Much better, thank you. But won’t it be too hot for you?”
“No, my office is set to my personal preference.” He straightened and the heat disappeared—much to her disappointment. “Reschedule all my meetings for the next three days.”
“Reschedule…?”
“Yes, I’m going to Los Angeles.”
April frowned and checked the calendar. “On business?”
“Yes, and you’ll be accompanying me. We’ll be flying out tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll be forwarding the itinerary. Make sure to pack a cocktail dress. We’ll be going to at least one event.”
A cocktail dress? She didn’t even own a dress, much less one for an event in Los Angeles. Her mind raced for an excuse—any excuse—to get her out of the affair, if not the whole trip, but she came up with nothing. There was nothing holding her in town, and she couldn’t explain to him that girls her size didn’t have cocktail dresses lying around. At least he paid her well enough to go buy one.
“And April?”
“Yes?”
“One more thing.” He leaned in close—so close that she could see the strands of golden-blond hair in his beard and eyebrows—and flared his nostrils. “What is that scent?”
“Scent?”
“What are you wearing? I was thinking of buying a new scent for my.... mother.”
“It’s just my body wash. Or maybe the orange I had for breakfast?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Well, it’s an intoxicating combination.” He straightened again, and she hoped he didn’t notice the sudden flush on her cheeks or the way her pulse quickened. Her body betrayed her every time he stood within touching distance. Apparently, she needed more than eight weeks to get that under control. “I’m going to the club, I’ll be back this afternoon.”
“Would you like me to forward your messages?”
“Only if it’s urgent.”
She didn’t release her breath until the door closed behind him. Turning her attention back to the calendar, she tried to forget the texture of his skin, the smell of sandalwood and pine that always surrounded him, the color of his eyes—green with the brightest flecks of gold. She tried to forget everything except the task at hand—the impossible task at hand. Mads was a very busy man, and his schedule was a careful balancing act without surprise meetings taking them out of town.
The thought of going out of town made her stomach flutter. He’d warned her at the beginning of her interview that the job would require frequent travel. She’d quickly assured him that travel would not be a problem—she didn’t even have a plant in her small apartment. But this was the first trip since he hired her. How long would they be gone? What should she pack? Where were they going? Would they be alone together?
“That doesn’t matter,” she muttered, squaring her shoulders. She had a job to do. Three days of meetings were not going to reschedule themselves.
2
It wasn’t just the smell of her body wash or her breakfast fruit that clung to Mads and drove him a little bit crazy, no matter how much distance he put between himself and his pretty assistant. The first time their hands touched, a chill went down his spine and he actually quivered. In that moment, he knew two things for sure—one: he would absolutely hire her, and two: he absolutely had no business hiring her.
She wasn’t even the most qualified applicant. A recent graduate from a tiny state school out in the middle of nowhere with no previous office or administrative experience, she showed up with a bright smile and a recommendation from his previous assistant, Marie. He had to look up the school to verify it was an accredited university and not just something she made up for her resume. But her references had been effusive, her grades perfect, and she looked him in the eye with a boldness that he hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Maybe even in centuries.
Inviting her touch was not the best idea. Her soft fingers cooled the fire constantly burning beneath his skin, bringing him a moment of peace that the ubiquitous air conditioning never produced. She soothed him and then it was over, and he was left with nothing but a deep longing. Where else could she touch him? What other relief could she bring him?
He shook his head. No, no, no. He wasn’t going to think about that, wasn’t going to allow those images—as delightful as they were—to fill his head. He had too many other things on his plate to be distracted by personal pleasure. Like Charles and Savannah Maelstrom, owners of the most powerful media conglomerate in the nation and the assholes trying to negotiate a hostile takeover of his own media interests. He only owned a handful of cable channels and three newspapers, but he wanted to keep them.
The trip to California would be tedious at best. They’d throw him a party and try to find a way to buy him, though their billions meant nothing to him and they owned nothing he coveted. Strictly speaking, April did not need to accompany him, but just being near her brought him a sense of peace. And he would need all the help he could get if he had to spend a long weekend with Savannah Maelstrom. The fact that the world hadn’t yet figured out her secret was a miracle to him.
It took him nearly thirty minutes to reach the club, and he resented every single second he spent confined in the car; if only he could stretch his wings, he would have been there in less than five. He would have soared over the skyscrapers and all of these little ants, scurrying around in their little ant lives, ignorant of their own insignificance. How terrified they would be to catch a glimpse of his immense power.
What would April do if she could see him? If he shed his human suit and allowed her a glimpse of his true self, would she run from him? Or would she take a step closer? Would she place her fingers on his brow? Would she place a kiss on his inhuman lips? Would she fear him or would she understand that she would never have anything to fear from him?
And how long would he be able to pretend that he didn’t long to show her?
3
April had imagined the cocktail party as a smallish event full of boring business talk. Why else would he want her to accompany him, if not to take notes and keep track of who said what? But once they arrived, she realized there was nothing small about the party, and there would be no business discussed that evening. For the briefest of moments, April considered that maybe he simply meant her to be his date, but that hope was dashed when the most gorgeous woman she had ever seen attached herself to Mads’ arm.
“Darling, it’s so good to see you again.” Her long red hair glowed under the chandeliers and her skin had the beautiful golden hue of the California sun.
“Savannah, dear, it’s been too long.”
“You haven’t called on me in, well, eons!”
“I know, dear, and I have been remiss. But business—”
She playfully hit his chest. “Oh, poo on your business. I don’t want to hear another word of it. That’s all Charles can talk about these days, and I’ll tell you, it’s perfectly boring.”
Mads chuckled good-naturedly and gestured at April. “This is April Bancroft, my personal assistant. April, this is Savannah Maelstrom.”
“Maelstrom? As in Maelstrom Media Group?”
Savannah laughed. “Of course, darling.”
“She is the queen of the empire. And a delectable one at that.” He bent low and kissed her hand, prompting a giggle from her.
“Oh, you old flirt.” Her eyes flickered over April and dismissed her just as quickly. “Have you met Angelica Preston, darling? She’s come in all the way from Europe.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure. Angelica?”
“Yes, you know, Miles Preston’s daughter? Come, she was dancing just a moment ago.”
And just like that, he was gone. April tried to track him through the crowd, but quickly lost sight of him and was unable to find him again, even when she checked the dance floor. She did spot the open bar and made
a beeline to the only friendly face in the crowd—the smiling bartender. She ordered a champagne and turned to survey the party, feeling more comfortable with a glass in her hand.
When they arrived in the town car Mads had hired, she assumed they were at a hotel. A very large, opulent hotel. An impression that didn’t change once inside—the sweeping stairs, the enormous chandeliers, the fine marble, the gold leaf accents, and the plush, leather furniture were all things she’d only seen in hotels. Well, pictures of hotels. She’d never been so out of place, and she was certain everybody there knew she didn’t belong.
April looked down at her dress, inwardly cringing at the sight of her breasts and the swell of her belly encased in shiny, emerald green. It was not her favorite color, but what could she do? There was not an abundance of pretty dresses in her size 28. This one fit her well and covered enough of her breasts that she didn’t feel like she looked cheap. In fact, for a brief moment at the hotel, she actually felt surge of pride at the sight of her reflection. She’d had her hair, makeup, and nails done at the hotel’s spa—on Mads’ insistence and his dime—and the dress did look good on her. Mads’ smile when he saw her only reinforced her sense of pride. He had looked genuinely taken aback by her, and he’d offered her his arm, and it had all felt very real.
But now, she knew for a fact that she looked cheap. Who else here was wearing off the rack clothes?
God, why did he bring me here at all?
