“Don’t let go of me,” Quinn whispered. “Don’t ever let go of me.”
“Love…never. I will never let you go. You are my life,” I rasped in her ear. I set her down and took her face in my rough hands. She soaked in the brilliance of my green eyes as I soaked in the beauty of hers. I kissed her. “Are you okay?”
“I just needed to see you one last time.”
“I’m right here.” I was trying to be reassuring, even when I completely doubted myself. My heart would ache for Quinn every second I wasn’t with her. The scavenging trip would be brutal on both of us.
After I kissed the top of her head, I pulled away. “Love, we have to go. Trust me and hear me when I say this: I will be back. I will walk through the flames of hell for you.”
Shattered Lives: Awakened Desires
Kindle Edition
Copyright © 2014 by Rissa Blakeley. All rights reserved.
Published by Rissa Blakeley.
Cover Art & Design by Cover-It Designs
Edited by Kim's Editing Services
Vector Artwork by Gert Erasmus Photo Editing
Photography by Photos by Brandie
Cover Model: Dominic Varg 'Reaper' Dasinger
E-Book Layout & Design by Ryan Fitzgerald
The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead, or undead is entirely coincidental.
Except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of critical analysis or review, no part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted via any means (electronic, mechanical, or otherwise) without express, written permission from the author.
All artwork used in the Shattered Lives series cannot be reproduced without written permission from the author, the cover art designer from Cover-It Designs, and vector artist from Gert Erasmus Photo Editing except in the case of author-approved promotions, critical articles, and reviews.
Due to the dynamic nature of the Internet, website links contained within this book may be outdated and/or no longer valid.
Edition: October 2014
Table of Contents
Awakened Desires
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Fractured Hearts (Teaser)
About the Author
To my family, friends, readers, and militia members,
First, I would like to thank all of you for your continued support. It means the world to me to have such a great support system and following. I work with some amazing people, and I appreciate every last one of you and all that you do for me.
Now, I feel I owe you an explanation about Awakened Desires before you begin the journey. While most of you are dying to know what happens between Henry and Gunther, along with Claire, you’re going to have to wait because Gunther decided that his story needed to be told. You see, he insisted that you all had an unjust opinion of him, and he wanted to straighten some things out. At first, he threatened violence, but after a little heart-to-heart, he calmed down enough to tell me his story. No worries, though. You will learn what happens to Henry, Gunther, and Claire later on in this book.
Awakened Desires began as part of Broken Dreams. Essentially, it was another third person point of view. When I was completely frustrated with the whole thing, I spoke to another established author and she said two points of view were plenty. I struggled for a while and decided to pull the Broken Dreams manuscript apart. I cannot even begin to tell you how much time that took.
Originally, his story started at chapter sixteen, but Gunther demanded more attention. He wanted everyone to know the good, the bad, and the really ugly parts of his life. So grab your beverage of choice, a snack, maybe a few tissues, and dive into his journey. I hope you find it as interesting as I did.
Enjoy,
Rissa Blakeley
P.S. I am not responsible for damaged electronics, should you choose to throw them.
P.P.S. I am not responsible for your water bill from the amount of cold showers you will need to take.
Awakened Desires
Shattered Lives, Book 2
Chapter 1
-October 2014-
Atlanta, Georgia
After being in New York for a bloody eternity and after hitting the market, I arrived back at my flat in Atlanta, Georgia. As per instructions from Roger, I was hunting down that Captain Cock-up, Liam Daniels. Or, as he prefers, Henry Daniels.
When he moved to the States, we found out through Sophie Jackson, another recruit and his former whore, that he changed his name to Henry without consulting us first…us being his four bosses: Roger, Drew, Kellan, and myself. It was rather nice having Sophie around. She was very useful. Every time Cock-up would phone her, she would report back to Roger. She didn’t really have a choice, but that’s not the point.
I wasn’t about to acknowledge his preferred name because he wanted to lock Liam up in a neat little package. No fucking way—not my problem.
Anyway, I knew he would bugger up the mission somehow. I still couldn’t believe we all agreed to place the program in his hands. It was a stupid decision and probably the largest mistake we made.
I plopped my achy, tired arse down on my favorite black leather sofa, kicking my size thirteens up on the coffee table. I was still in my suit, but I was too fucking knackered to change. I’ll do it in a few, needing a moment to reflect and just chill the fuck out.
I laid back with my hands behind my head, allowing my vast, nagging body to sink into the back cushion. The pain in my chest was ebbing, but I was certain that, at some point, I would drop dead of a massive coronary. Might as well, knowing what was coming.
The trip took far too long for my own liking, but it brought a whole new meaning to fun. I had received a call from Roger saying that Captain Cock-up was not doing his job. Big shocker right there. He instructed me to take the jaunt to New York and take care of matters. I couldn’t help but have a big cheeky grin on my face. I was relatively sure that I succeeded every step of the way.
-August 2014-
New York, New York
When I touched down at JFK, my body buzzed with excitement. Bloody hell, I was ready. My usual confident self knew that I would get the job done in just a couple days. Roger’s instructions were to threaten Captain Cock-up within an inch of his life into doing his job and if he still refused, I was to do it myself. No fucking problem. I wasn’t about to disobey orders, even if Roger was across
the ocean. I was looking forward to threatening Cock-up—the balls up, arsehole.
Before I left for New York, I went online and checked out some hotels, finding one that was luxurious enough, but not too uptight. I was far from toff, and I didn’t want to be around people who were. I was a little rough around the edges with some serious cash in the bank, allowing me to enjoy nice things. In no way did that make me part of the upper classes, but it was nice pretending to be a proper gentleman.
When the cabbie pulled up to the entrance, I was taken aback by the beauty of the exterior of the hotel. It was very clean-cut and had simple styling with floor-to-ceiling exterior windows. Exactly my kind of place. I was a sucker for that kind of modern styling.
A porter was waiting to grab my bags. Nice lad. We headed inside and I was blown away, but not by the hotel. I didn’t even notice the inside. The female at the reception desk drew me in and took my breath away. I knew then that I was going to fuck her senseless at some point during my New York adventure. Sooner rather than later. I was ready for some good old-fashioned, hard fucking.
As I was checking in, I eyed the twenty-something vixen that was running my black invite-only credit card. She twisted me all up inside. Her hair was fiery red, and the way she bit down on her pink-tinted bottom lip while she waited for the computer made a rush of blood hit places it shouldn’t in public. I shifted while standing there, hoping no one noticed.
Finally, when she realized I was staring at her—“ogling” would be the technical word—she looked up at me through her thick, blackened lashes. Bloody hell. Her soft, baby blue eyes were exquisite. Her curves were delicious. I threw her my “I’m going to fuck your brains out” half-smile. Pick it up, little vixen.
Pick…it…the…fuck…up.
“So…” She looked at my credit card. Her eyes flicked to my perfect face and her lashes fluttered. “Mr. Erikkson. What brings you here to this…mind-blowing city?” Her perfect pouty lips slightly puckered and parted. Tease. She knew precisely what she was doing.
“I have some business to attend to,” I drawled.
She softly smiled. “I love your accent, by the way. Always been a fan of the UK.” Then she swallowed. I watched her tongue slip out and lick her lips as she did so. “Should I be expecting a significant other to pop in? I need to log in another occupant if there will be someone else staying with us.” Watch it vixen, I thought. Curiosity can kill the cat…or fox, in this case.
“Thanks, and that would be a negative on the significant other. I’m…unattached.” I rubbed my lips with my thumb and forefinger. I saw her looking at my Omega watch. Then her eyes lingered around my face, soaking in my chemical-laden eyes. She checked out my clothes, noting my obvious love for the finer things. And then, of course, she lost her breath with my implied solid male prowess. I was a fucking machine, and I was going to show her how it was done.
She had been drawn to me like a moth to a flame. Yeah, I had her. There was just something about her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I needed to have her. I needed to dive into her deepest parts and show her some proper technique.
She handed me the paperwork to sign, then the room keycard. Her slender hand dragged across mine as she pulled away. I may have been an old man in my forties, but I have been told that I look much younger. I had yet to lose my touch, and there had never been a single complaint about my skills. Well, a few, but those were compliments, in my opinion.
“Well, thank you for choosing to stay at The Reede’s, Mr. Erikkson. I certainly hope your stay here is…remarkable.” I looked at her name tag, trying not to notice those pink pretties winking right at me. Fuck me. I wanted to nibble on them. Focus, you tosser!
“Well, Carly, I do expect it will be.” I know the deep vibration in my voice made her insides come alive. I saw her little buds firm up even more through her thin white uniform shirt; plus, she shifted her weight a couple times. I imagine she was wearing some stellar lacy panties, and they were probably saturated by now.
I started to walk toward the bank of elevators, carefully concealing my throbbing John Thomas under my leather jacket. The porter was patiently waiting at the doors with my luggage. Turning back on my heel, I asked, “Six o’clock for dinner?”
“Sounds perfect.” She smiled, looked down, and started shuffling papers around. Chalk one up for the old man.
“Meet me here then.” I wasn’t asking. I was telling her and that’s how it would work. It was my way or no way at all.
She looked up at me again. “Will do.” I half-smirked and continued to the bank of elevators.
In shock, Carly stood for a few seconds, watching Gunther walk to the elevators, before one of her co-workers snapped their fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Carly.”
She jumped and clutched her chest. “Huh? What?”
“Who was that? He’s smoking. A little too old for me, but daaamn!” Jessica’s words made Carly want to gouge her eyes out and stomp on them. She didn’t want anyone else to look at him that way, especially Jessica.
When they started working with one another, they grew to be best friends, but they were polar opposites. Carly was prim and proper; Jessica was the girl out until all hours of the night, coming into work hung over and chatting about the men she took home. No matter what happened the night before, Jessica always looked put together. Carly hated having those kinds of discussions with her staff.
“That was Mr. Erikkson.” She straightened herself up in almost a presumptuous manner. “He just checked in as a guest.”
“I get that Carly. I so fucking get that.” She sounded like she wanted him, but that wasn’t going to happen on Carly’s watch. That man was hers for the taking.
“He asked me out for dinner tonight.” Carly’s grin was devious, yet understated.
“Shut the fuck up.” Jessica’s jaw dropped. “Are you going out with him?” She was surprised that Carly would. She had guests hit on her before, but she always said no. Her father, the hotel owner, would have snatched her bald-headed if he found out that she was involved with a patron.
Carly leaned in close to Jessica and said, “Hell, yeah. Jesus. Did you see him? But, please, don’t say anything.” Carly worried what would happen if her father found out. “Let’s keep this on the down low, please.”
“What on the down low?” Jessica winked.
“Thank you.” Carly’s shoulders fell in relief. “He said to meet him here at six. I’m so nervous. This is out of my character.”
“I know, you wild woman! You better get moving. It’s five forty-five!” Jessica pointed at the clock on the wall.
“Shit!” Instant panic set in. Carly turned in all directions, not knowing where to go or what to do. Grabbing her shoulders, Jessica shook her out of her tizzy.
“You still have that blue dress hanging in your office from the cocktail party we had here last weekend for the city council?”
“Yes! Thank you!”
“You can thank me later. You get him, girl!” Again, Jessica winked at her.
Carly made a mad dash back to her office to change out of her uniform. She washed up in record time, making sure to hit all the important areas, reapplied her make-up, and tussled her thick, red locks. After a quick spritz of her favorite perfume, she called her driver to come pick Gunther and her up. Luckily, Jackson wasn’t that far away. He had just dropped her father off at a charity pre-event meeting in an office building five blocks down.
Carly made a mad dash back out to the desk. “How do I look?” She was panting as she skidded to a stop behind the desk.
“Girl…if you don’t get laid tonight, you never will.”
“Don’t say that!” She slapped Jessica in the arm, causing her to laugh. Then the elevator chimed. “Oh god. I bet that’s him.” After smoothing her dress with her damp palms, she ran her hands through her hair one last time.
“Shhh. Don’t be nervous. He’s just a god.”
“I know.” Carly took a few deep breaths, trying
to calm herself down. She headed toward the center of the front lobby to wait.
“Have fun!” Jessica shouted as Carly walked away from the front desk. She worked hard to look casual as she headed to the doors, reminding herself to breathe.
I entered my room. It was as luxurious as the pictures showed online, which came as a surprise. Instructing the porter to leave my luggage at the door, I gave him a healthy tip, and thanked him as I closed the door. My training kicking while I unpacked my stuff, neatly putting my clothing away in the drawers. Leaving my gun in the case, I put it away in the safe. I grabbed my shaving kit and headed to the bathroom to wash off my travel funk.
I turned on the shower. All maftin and steamy—just the way I liked it. A bit like how I believed the night would unfold. Standing in the spray from the six shower heads, I thought about what may transpire over the course of the evening. Luckily, my J.T. decided to behave himself for a few minutes, but it wouldn’t last. I wasn’t in the mood to pull one out.
Before I was to start my mission, I wanted to have one night to myself. Quickly, I washed up with my usual spicy body wash. Once I toweled off, I headed back into the bedroom to get dressed, stopping in front of the mirror to admire my physique.
I had worked hard my entire life to be built. I wasn’t a knob head, but I had a decent amount of muscle. Running my hand over the scars on my chest, made me shudder. Not wanting to think about the scars, I turned around and headed for my clothes. It was my night, not Roger’s. I wasn’t going allow him to take control of my evening.
I should have told twenty-something what to wear. Hoping she would dress up, I pulled on my favorite bespoke Thom Sweeney gray houndstooth trousers before putting on a white pinstripe shirt. The red-and-black tribal tattoo that ran around my bicep over my chest and down my side really showed through the shirt. Oh, well. I would just have to keep my jacket on until we got to somewhere private because I was that confident about how the evening would end.
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