ENTICED
A HOLLOWAY PACK MINI
J.A. BELFIELD
ALSO BY J.A. BELFIELD
INSTINCT
ETERNAL
DARKNESS & LIGHT
BLUE MOON
RESONANCE
CAGED
UNNATURAL
PRAISE FOR ENTICED
“A lip-biting, thigh-crossing good read! [...]Ethan and sex—need I say more?” ~ Keri Lake, author of the Sons of Wrath series
“Ethan is super sizzling in this mini novella.” ~ Sandra, JeanzBookReadNReview
“If you've been looking for a HOT read, there is definitely some steam going on here!” ~ Wendy, Goodreads member
“Oh holy hawtness!! [...] Ethan is more than HAWT and Shelley just went up a few notches in my book!!” ~ Maghon, Happy Tails and Tales
ENTICED
Published by J.A. Belfield
www.jabelfield.com
Copyright © 2015 Julie Anne Belfield
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events, locations, or any other element is entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Aimee Laine.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For The Hollerers.
Without you, this story wouldn't exist.
NOTE TO READER
Dear Reader,
First of all, thank you so much for picking up Enticed to read. If you're new to my writing, I can only hope you fall in love with Ethan Holloway as much as fans of the series have. If you're a Holloway Pack fan, then you 100% have my street team, The Hollerers, to thank for this little side story coming to fruition—in particular, you should totally thank author Keri Lake, who has some serious heat for Ethan and nagged me to even consider writing it in the first place, and then egged on the other Hollerers to nag at me, too.
For anyone unaware, this is a step up on the heat level ladder, when compared to the main Holloway Pack titles. I wanted to give Ethan a fitting birthday, expose him a little, show his more demanding and his more tender side. I have no apology for doing this, because I'm not sorry—in the slightest.
Read on. I hope you enjoy.
J.
ENTICED
From the opposite side of the table, Kyle waved his coffee mug toward me. “To Ethan. And another year done and dusted.” Trouble spilled from his hazel eyes, beneath the auburn eyebrows he wiggled. “Soon you’ll be as old as the old men.”
“He already is,” Dad muttered from behind his laptop screen, where he scoured the classifieds for land sales. “As old as me when I was that age.”
Kyle grinned. “See?” He’d bombed over with Brook to join us for breakfast, to ‘celebrate my big day’. Like it was something spectacular to behold that the clock had ticked past midnight of the day before to announce me a year older, when, in reality, I was less than twenty four hours older than when I’d been thirty five.
Even Brook smiled, her exotic eyes warming to a bright gold, offset by the dark oak strands of hair trailing low over her shoulders. “Any plans?” she asked in that reserved way of hers, and Dad lifted his gaze.
Over by the cooker, Mum sent us a sideways glance, her chestnut bob bouncing a little. A few feet along from her, Sean sat on the countertop, waiting for the bacon to fry, his mess of dark hair sticking up like it’d been rampaging all night. Not all that different to how I’d probably looked myself since getting up—in every way possible, seeing as both he and I had grabbed most of Dad’s appearance genes from the nugget he’d contributed toward our creation.
“No plans as yet,” I said in answer—which was the truth—and Brook’s smile widened, like she knew something I didn’t.
In the past, we’d celebrated birthdays pretty much as we celebrated the freedom of every weekend—by fooling around outside enough to burn off excess energy, eating stupid amounts of food even for us, and falling asleep in a heap until someone decided they were aching too much to stay put. Birthdays had also always been something shared with the pack alone. Over the last couple of years, though, the pack had grown—both in size and acceptance criteria—and it seemed weird having what would’ve once been considered ‘outsiders’ wanting to be a part of that.
I eyed Brook from across the wood of the oak tabletop. First time I’d ever had a cat come give me birthday greetings.
My mind shifted to Gabe. First time I’d had a surrogate teenage son to call me at first light and wake me with a duet of happy birthday from him and his young mate, too.
First time, really, I’d had a female of my own to spend time with for the event, even.
Not that Shelley and I’d discussed anything about my birthday. Not that we’d made plans. In fact … had I even mentioned it to her? I couldn’t remember. Was just another day, after all.
“Okay, food’s up,” Mum said, swinging the frying pan across to a plate set on the counter, and slapping at Sean’s hand with the spatula when he snuck it out for some. “Birthday boy gets first rasher.”
Rolling his eyes, Sean hopped down to his feet. I knew the instant Jem stepped into the room behind me by the way his gaze sharp-focused to my right, followed by a blast of warmth softening his expression.
Lia, their daughter, had taken to sleeping in a little later, and Jem took full advantage of that. Which made her often the last one up at weekends—sometimes during the week, too. Not that I blamed her after the few weeks of teething Lia went through. Not a damn one of us had enough sleep with all the wailing. Curse of enhanced hearing, I guessed.
“Hey.” Jem’s warm breath hit my shoulder, and her arm folded over my chest from behind, her familiar musk drifting toward my nostrils. “Happy birthday, tough guy.”
Something tapped against my chin, and I peered down at a long-necked bottle of golden liquid. “Talisker Storm?” I asked, reading the label, as Sean worked a puffy-faced Lia from Jem’s clutches.
“You haven’t tried this one before.” Straightening, she flicked her blonde wisps over her shoulder, detangling her fingers when they got caught. “Besides, I’ve kind of killed the cheesy T-shirt angle already.” She had, too—half a dozen of her ‘gifts’ sat in my bedroom drawers. “So I had to find a new obsession to kill for a while.”
I nodded, touched by the fact she’d bother to notice my tastes. “Nice.”
As I stuck it on the sideboard behind me for later, the usual bustle of breakfast commenced: Mum hauling all the plates of bacon, eggs, toast, mushrooms, and hash browns across to the table, Jem settling into her seat beside me, Lia still rubbing her little fists into her eye sockets as Sean tucked her onto his lap at his place beside Jem, and Dad folding down his screen and paying attention as even Kyle and Brook drew their chairs in a little closer. In another moment, we all had plates and cutlery slid beneath our noses, and pretty much all conversation ceased as the more important task of eating took its place.
Just as Mum had ordered, nobody touched anything before I’d scooped up what I wanted—and I smiled at them through every damn item I dished. I’d ploughed my way through everything bar remnants of hash brown and a strip of bacon when the metallic groan of the front gates sounded out.
I tilted my head as I chewed, tracking the low rumble of an engine, and recognised the tone as Dan’s ex-HiLux. Shelley and I’
d bought the pickup from Dan a couple of weeks back, when he’d made noise about trading it in for a new set of wheels, though he’d shocked us all when he showed up with a bike as his new ride.
At the dual slamming of truck doors from the driveway, I smiled. Gabe’s arrival likely meant Shelley's too.
I didn’t bother turning when the front door swung open and two sets of footsteps hit the tiles of the hallway. Instead, I inhaled—frowning when the scents I grabbed had zero to do with my female.
A hand clamped down on my shoulder and shook a little. “Happy birthday, old man.”
I mustered a smile for Gabe. “Less of the old,” I said, as he rounded my seat, with Mia—not Shelley—in tow.
“Oh, I dunno. You got some grey coming, you know.” Mia’d never been shy since the first time I met her. “Gonna have to start thinking about dyeing those soon.” Her long ebony hair slid over her shoulder as she leaned in and nabbed a piece of toast off the table. “Whatcha got planned?” she asked around chewing.
I shrugged, my brain still half expecting Shelley to come through the door in some kind of delayed reaction.
“Well, you can start by opening these uber cool pressies we got you,” Mia said, snatching a packet I’d barely registered out of Gabe’s hands. “You’ll love them. I helped Gabe pick them out.”
I faux groaned. Neither of them had hit their twenties yet—who the hell knew what they’d come up with. “Do I really want to see?”
“Yep.” Grinning, she slapped a thin square-shaped parcel on the table next to my plate.
I stared. At the parcel. Well, at the packaging. It was lilac. With fairies on it—fairies with flower heads for hats and toadstools for seats and ladybirds for companions. “You pick out the paper, too?”
“I like fairies,” she said, grabbing another slice of toast.
Ignoring the stifled chuckles from the pack, the snort from Jem, and the untamed smiles from both Brook and Mum, I peeled back the stuck-down flaps of paper and peeked inside to find white fabric. “Is it safe to delve deeper?” I asked.
Pausing in her chewing, Mia shot out a muffled, “Wimp.”
“Be nice,” Gabe said, drawing her toward him with a hand slipped around her waist. “It’s his birthday.” He tucked her back against his chest and stared overtop of her head, and I pulled the gift from its bindings and shook it out to reveal a T-shirt.
Jem barked out a laugh beside me, while I could only stare at the T-shirt. More so at the design: 'WOOF!' In big letters. Right across the front.
“Classic,” Jem said.
I turned to her, ignoring the jiggle of Sean’s shoulders next to her, as he did a crap job of hiding his laughter in the crook of Lia’s neck. “Is this your doing?”
She held up her hands, grinning. “Hey, don’t look at me. Though, you’ve got to admit, it’s pretty cool."
I grunted. No way I’d admit that.
“Try it on,” Mia said.
I think I may have grimaced. “What—now?”
“Well, you can’t have your other pressie until you do.”
I sliced my gaze across to her and Gabe, and noticed, for the first time, the second package he held.
He peered back at me through the pale blond curls hanging low over his brow, the apology in his bright blue eyes warring with the manic twitching at the corner of his lips. “This one’s better,” he said. “Promise.”
Grumbling beneath my breath, I shrugged out of the grey Umbro shirt I'd shucked on that morning, and worked the gift over my head, before poking my arms through the sleeve holes. I held out my arms and glanced round at the others. “Well?”
Across the table, Kyle snorted, as Brook smiled and said, “Perfect.”
Nodding like I agreed, I wiggled my fingers at Gabe, knowing the sooner I had it over with, the sooner Mia’d leave me alone. “Okay, gimme.”
The second gift was box-shaped and clunked when he leaned in and set it down on the table. Not wasting any more time, I tore the paper from the end and slid out a metal box with a clasp on and a little plastic handle. A brown angry-looking cartoon wolf, with six teeth pointing out either side of its long snout and wearing green dungarees, had been printed onto the lid.
My eyebrow arched up.
“Your own lunchbox,” Mum said from her seat next to Dad. “Very cute.”
I turned my eyebrow on her, but all it got me in return was an amused glint in the chocolate eyes she’d passed onto me and Sean.
“Open it up,” Gabe said, before I even had the chance to reach for the clasp.
It gave a quiet snap as I tugged it free, and I grinned on lifting the lid, beneath which I found around a dozen Snickers bars staring back at me. “Now, this is more like it.”
Gabe chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
Clipping the latch back into place, I averted my gaze. “So, is your mum coming over today?” I said, finally voicing the question I’d been wanting to ask since he’d stepped into the kitchen.
“Damn.” He snapped straight and wove around Mia, his hand swinging from behind him. “Nearly forgot. She asked me to give you this.”
The envelope he handed over was creased and bent a little, like he’d pulled it from his back pocket.
I studied it. Nothing special. Just a bog standard, gift-card issue envelope, with my name on the front in Shelley’s handwriting.
And pink—as if to drive the nail of a delivered-by-someone-else birthday card home with more thwack.
The quiet that took over the room told me everyone else likely watched me while I stared at the envelope. Sighing at its lack of personality, I turned it over, but paused at the back flap.
There, letters had been neatly printed in Shelley’s hand: FOR YOUR EYES ONLY.
I probably narrowed my gaze at it a bit too long before glancing up and finding every set of eyes pinned my way. Yeah, wasn’t sharing whatever was inside with them, for damn sure. Clearing my throat, I waved the envelope and scraped back my chair. “I’ll be in my room,” I told them and, not waiting to see what they thought of that, bolted for the stairs.
Once on the landing, I strode along to the second door on the left and pushed inside my bedroom. Coffee shades coloured the walls around the decent-sized window that overlooked the back garden and, more importantly, the forest, but only the envelope—or what might be inside it—held my attention.
Sinking down onto the edge of my bed, I worked a finger under the flap and took out a regular old birthday card with a chimp on the front and a simple ‘Happy Birthday’ printed across its top in bulky orange letters. Nothing romantic. No hearts. No confessed feelings. No nouns pronouncing who the recipient might be to the sender.
Though, what could she get one with, anyway? To my boyfriend? My face screwed up at that title. My mate? Somehow, I doubted they did those at Hallmark.
Even so, I found myself opening it, like some part of me hoped she had more to say with her own words than with those fabricated by some anonymous message maker.
Four envelopes marked 1, 2, 3, and 4 had been tucked inside.
Moving those out of the way revealed more of Shelley’s neat handwriting across the inner fold of the greeting card. A cryptic note of: ‘What? Did you think this was it?’
I frowned, my eyes scanning downward to another little note.
‘Pssst, in case you can’t figure it out, the envelopes are number-ordered for a reason. Open them. You know you want to.’
“What the hell’s got into you, Shel?” I muttered, though my lips twitched even as I set down the card and three of the envelopes, and ripped at the flap of number one.
No card sat inside it. No note. Just a tiny black rag of … I grabbed it between my two fingers and slid it out. Lace?
Lifting it to my nose, I sniffed. A faint whiff of Shelley lingered on its surface, but otherwise, it just had that new fabric smell I’d have expected from the stiffness of the strip.
Setting it aside, I lifted number two, tore through the stuck-down flap, and
peered inside.
A couple of glossy photos peeked back, and I withdrew them. Stared at the first one. Tried to figure out what the hell the pinkish-but-not-pink, creamy looking whatever the shot seemed to be of. I shuffled out another from behind it—same thing. Kind of. Except the second one had a couple of ridges.
Only when looking at the third did I notice the faint porous-like indentations, the delicate downy-looking hairs, and realised it was a close-up of … “Skin? Lace … and skin?”
Despite my narrow-eyed frown, my lips curved. Shelley was definitely—definitely—up to something.
And experience warned it would be something really bad.
Or something painfully good.
I picked up number three, my gaze flitting back to the flesh shots as I tore through the envelope and pulled out a postcard. On it was written a single word: ‘Sniff’.
Bringing it closer to my nose, I inhaled, and the second I did, my lids drooped at the lush dose of Shelley I’d sucked in. Not just Shelley, though. Not just her behind the counter of her little bookshop odour. Or her doing Mum duties smell. Or even her visiting for Sunday dinner subtleness she always arrived with.
Nope, the scent that hit me was one hundred percent 'Shelley the Female', and had my grip tightening around the rectangle of card, and my senses craving another blast, even while my mind already chased after what might be in the final envelope to top it off.
Snatching up number four, I ripped it open and yanked out a folded piece of card.
Once more, Shelley’s handwriting stared up at me, but with some kind of instruction:
I’m at a place that’s a step up from 2D in a backward sort of way.
Enticed Page 1
