by Tess Oliver
Maximus
Boys of Wynter #2
Tess Oliver
MAXIMUS
Cover Photographer: Rolf Gillespie (Irish Wolf Photography)
Cover Model: Christian Jonsson
Copyright © 2017 by Tess Oliver
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Boys of Wynter
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-one
22. Twenty-two
23. Twenty-three
24. Twenty-four
25. Twenty-five
26. Twenty-six
27. Twenty-seven
28. Twenty-eight
29. Twenty-nine
30. Thirty
31. Thirty-one
32. Thirty-two
33. Thirty-three
34. Thirty-four
35. Thirty-five
36. Thirty-six
About the Author
Boys of Wynter
For thousands of years, Boys of Wynter have guarded the mortal world against the wraiths and demons who lurk aimlessly in the desolate shadows outside the underworld. The Boys have a reputation and they didn't earn that unsavory notoriety by being gentlemen.
Maximus is Book 2 of Tess Oliver’s new paranormal romance series Boys of Wynter. Don’t miss Book 1—Stryker—Now Available.
This series is not your typical paranormal—it’s darker, wilder and sexier.
One
Maximus
"You call that a spanking?" Kay got up to her knees, swung around and pinched my nipple hard. She followed it with a stinging palm slap on my chest.
"Ouch, fuck." I grabbed hold of her slim wrist and squeezed it just hard enough to let her know I was pissed.
A sane woman would have shrunk back from my glower, especially if she was naked and defenseless in the middle of my bed. But then Kay was hardly sane or defenseless as the long scratches on my back and the bite mark on my shoulder proved without debate. Kay had only recently joined the Wynter Fare, the group of women who, by day, worked at highly respectable jobs and led productive lives, but who, by night, liked to have a little fun, or more accurately, a lot of fucking fun . . . literally and with the Boys of Wynter. The Wynter Fare were the best part of our job. After a long shift in Wynter, chasing down all the slimy vermin of the underworld to keep them from causing chaos in the mortal world, we were always greeted with open arms, parted lips and hot, wet pussies just waiting for a good time. That was the Wynter Fare. And it was hardly a one-sided relationship because if there was one thing Boys of Wynter knew how to do, it was to satisfy the Wynter Fare's craving for fun.
Kay seemed to be an exception though. Some of the women liked it a little rough or kinky and some just wanted to be caressed and made love to. I was up for any of that. But Kay took rough and kinky to a whole new level, and I wasn't interested.
Kay's rose shaped lips curled up in a wicked smile. "See, now that's the face you should have when you're spanking me. Like you're mad as hell and you're going to let me feel your anger on my naked ass."
I released her wrist. She spun back around and landed squarely on her hands and knees in the center of my tangled sheets.
"I've got to get ready for work." I climbed off the bed.
Kay twisted angrily around. "What? Fuck you." Her laugh grew more irritating each time I heard it. "You don't work. Riding in a fucking motorcycle club isn't work." Wynter Fare knew everything about us. They knew that we spent our time off surfing, drinking whiskey and fucking beautiful women. They knew that Flint, Stryker, Wilder and I always had each others' backs and that we were tighter than brothers. They knew what kind of motorcycles we liked to ride and they knew how to prick tease us into raving madmen. But they had no idea that when we rode off on our motorcycles, we were not heading off onto the open highway to wreak havoc on other outlaw clubs or to take part in some sketchy drug deal. They had no idea that when we rode off we were heading straight to a place that made the world of outlaw motorcycle clubs look like a kid's amusement park.
And they could never know.
The shower turned off in the bathroom. A minute later, Mirra stepped out with a towel around her curves. Mirra and I had been long time play friends. She was my favorite Wynter Fare, and I was her Boy of choice. But we'd never formed more than a friendship, a friendship that included amazing sex. She was a high-powered executive in a tech company and smarter than anyone I knew.
Kay made a show of climbing off the bed and stomping across the room. Her bow shaped lips had creased to a nearly straight line. Her long fingernails curled my direction for another pinch, and again, I grabbed her wrist. This time I gave the petite bones not just a squeeze but a slight twist. Her eyes rounded in fear.
"Ah ha, see that's the look, the look that proves you're not as tough as you think. You've been biting and scratching and—" I pointed to a huge red hickie on my pec. "And latching onto me like a fucking barnacle on the hull of a ship, and I've taken it all good naturedly because I would never hurt a woman. Ever. But you pull this shit on the wrong man, sweetheart, and you will be sorry. You're messing with a fire that is one day going to spiral out of control like flames in dry brush."
Her small nose flared, and she yanked her hand free of my grasp. "I don't need you or your fucking lecture. You are boring as hell and, frankly, you're just not that good in bed. I'm heading back to the Seven Sins to wait for those riders who showed up last night, the Masters of Mayhem. They said they'd be back tonight. They look like way more fun." She sashayed to the bathroom and slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the bedroom windows.
Mirra's head shook in dismay as she pulled on her panties.
I pointed to the bathroom door. "You need to lose that addition to the Wynter Fare. She's a few marbles short of sane."
Mirra searched around for her bra. I grabbed it up from the end of the bed and tossed it to her. She came closer so I could hear her whisper. "We've already had a secret group meeting about it. No one wants her to stay."
"Who are the Masters of Mayhem? Or is she just making them up?"
Mirra looked at me with wide brown eyes. "You don't know them? I thought you all knew each other."
"I've never heard of them. Were they at the Seven Sins?"
"Well, they never got closer than the parking lot, but they circled it enough times to irritate the hell out of Jemma. She walked out with a loaded rifle and told them she'd call the cops if they didn't leave. You know Jemma. Not much gets her into a rage, but she looked shaken. Her knuckles turned white from holding onto that rifle so hard."
"Where was Rafferty and his pack—crew?" The four Boys of Wynter who traded off shifts with us spent their free time at the Seven Sins, the local bar in our coastal town of Cliffmoor. The Seven Sins was a cool, old hole in the wall with great music, cheap liquor and, most importantly, it was where the Wynter Fare hung out on their down time. Jemma, the owner, was a fallen angel who had been banished from the angel's realm for having a love affair with
the man she had been assigned to guard. She knew what we did for a living and how we'd ended up in our jobs, but she never let on to the mortals who frequented her bar. Mostly because she was now a mortal too and giving up the secrets of any worlds, good or bad, that existed outside the human world always came with a severe punishment, namely death.
"How many riders were there?"
Mirra pulled her shirt over her head and combed her fingers through her wavy brown hair. "I'm not sure. I figured if Jemma didn't trust them enough to let them into the Seven Sins then I wasn't about to go out and start a chat with them. But when I glanced through the front window, I think I saw five, all wearing cuts with red skulls."
"What did they look like?"
Mirra sat down to buckle the straps on her high heels. "Big and mean."
I stood over her. "Big and mean? That could be the description for a bristly cactus or an angry bear."
Mirra laughed as she peered up at me. "What should I say? That one had a charming crescent shaped dimple and the other an infectious laugh? I only caught a glimpse of five beastly looking guys, all nearly as big as you, with their hands draped over the handlebars. And you know Jemma's parking lot is dark and crisscrossed with shadows." She hopped up off the bed and reached up to wipe some lipstick off the side of my face. "Coral pink is a terrible shade for you." She kissed me lightly. "I've got to go."
"Yeah, me too. It's nearly midnight." I walked over to the dresser to pull out my buckskin pants. The women thought we wore buckskin as some sort of fashion statement for the Wynter MC, but they were the most practical type of pants for riding horseback through the dank, vaporous landscape of Wynter. "Are you heading back to the Sins?"
"Nope, I'm heading home to my comfy bed and my two spoiled cats. I've got to get some sleep. And I've still got to pack."
I stopped at the bathroom door and pounded on it. "Hurry up. I've got to shower."
"Ooh, can I join you?" Kay called back through the door, her voice suddenly sweet and cheery.
"Nope. Just do your thing and get out." I raised a brow at Mirra and pointed at the blood red hickey on my chest before motioning to the bathroom door with my thumb. "Seriously, she is unstable."
"That's why I stay on my own side of the man when she's the third partner."
"What are you packing for?"
Mirra's shoulders dropped. "Seriously? You never listen, Maximus. I told you I'm going on a yacht outing near Greece with Charles Upton, the movie director."
"An outing on a yacht? Should I be jealous?"
Mirra's smile was worth a million dollars. Fuck. Some guy with a yacht and a snob-ass name was going to own that seven digit smile, and it wasn't going to be me. She walked over and rubbed against my naked body. "You should be. I think this might be the guy I've been waiting for."
It shouldn't have stung to hear her words but it did. Maybe I wasn't a hundred percent heartless after all. We'd had a great time making fun of Stryker, now that he'd fallen head over heels, batshit nuts over Willow, an incredible half-angel, half-nymph healer who was every bit worth going batshit nuts over. Maybe I had some of that mushy side too. But I always knew Mirra wasn't meant for me. We were from two different worlds. Literally. That annoying fact kept me from even thinking about ending up with someone like Mirra with her priceless smile and her cravings for great sex.
"In fact," Mirra said hesitantly and I knew what was coming next. "I probably won't be hanging out at the Seven Sins too much anymore. I need to start thinking about a serious relationship."
"Well, shit, Mir-Mir, you're sending me off to work with a heart that's thudding like a broken drum." I placed her hand on my chest. "Look what you just did."
That high dollar smile returned and she kissed me. "Actually, it's nice to know that I broke through that steel hard exterior. You take care, Max. Don't get yourself killed."
I nodded and found it hard to look right into her eyes, knowing I was going to be deprived of those glossy brown orbs and some asshole with a big shiny boat was going to be looking at them instead. If I'd been a regular part of the human world, if my father hadn't traded his firstborn off for money and power, I'd be part of Mirra's world and I would have her wrapped around my pinky just the way she had me wrapped around hers. But we could never be.
"Stay safe and happy, Mirra, and if that Upitty guy—"
"Upton," she corrected with a wry smile.
"Whatever, if he ever does anything to hurt you, you come to me. Got it?"
Mirra smiled as she turned to leave, but I took hold of her chin and turned her face up to mine. "I'm serious, Mirra. If anyone mistreats you, I want to know about it."
She hugged her arms around me. "Oh, I'm going to miss you, Max." Having her wrapped around me instantly brought my cock to life. My newly awoken erection pushed against her.
Her giggle was muffled by my shoulder. "And I'm really going to miss that cock of yours. In fact, I should be pissed as hell at you."
I leaned back to look at her. "Why is that?"
"Do you know how fucking high the bar has been set after two years of uninhibited sex with you?"
It was hard to hold back a cocky grin. "Huh, take that, yacht man. You might have the big boat, but I've got big where it counts."
Kay started singing in the shower. It was as irritating a sound as her laugh. My shoulders rose up around my ears.
Mirra patted my arm. "Well then, my giant personal sex toy, stay safe and happy and good luck getting that petite little pain in the ass, who loves ass pain, out of your house."
Two
Maximus
Flint, Stryker, Wilder and I rode through the forest on the outside edge of Cliffmoor. The lights of the town and the salty breeze from the coast faded away as we reached the location where time and dimension crisscrossed at an intersection of the worlds. Most beings stayed in one world or the other, but my pack mates and I always had a foot on each side of the intersection. Some people had to suffer working in a hot, noisy factory or a stuffy office building after a long commute. Some people had to suffer working for a shithole of a boss. We had to work in a place that was so fetid and soiled with death and decay sometimes it was hard to wash the stench off. And I was sure we could stand, Feenix, our shithole of a boss, up against any other shithole boss in the mortal world, and Feenix would still rise to the top just like foamy scum on a dirty pond.
Nevertheless, there we all were, the four of us, fresh from a twenty-four hour leave and ready to kick some wraith ass like always. Of course, we had no real choice. The only way out of working for Feenix, leader of the underworld, was to die or to, like Stryker, discover that you weren't supposed to be part of the pack at all. Stryker had had his neck under the executioner's ax for taking out Feenix's brother's eye, but Nessa, the awesome half witch, half mortal who raised us before we were thrown into training, discovered that Stryker had been a stolen baby. The man who had traded his firstborn son's life for power and wealth had stuck Stryker in his son's cradle. Stryker was given the opportunity to leave the Boys of Wynter, leave his pack mates and the love of his life, Willow, to live amongst the humans. Any memories of his former life would have been erased from his mind. But Stryker chose us, or more likely, he chose Willow. But we were all fucking relieved he'd decided to stay. The four of us had grown up together. We'd trained together and we rode together . . . in both worlds.
We slowed the bikes down as the terrain grew rough. I rode up next to Flint. Flint was the brains of the bunch. That didn't mean he wasn't a good warrior inside the underworld. He was just smarter when he hunted.
He pointed at the gnarly hickey on my chest. The flaming geysers and thick, hot steam of Wynter made the temperatures soar. Buckskin pants, gun holsters that crossed our chests and boots were all we wore when we crossed through to the underworld.
"Was that Kay?" He spoke loudly over the roar of our bike engines.
"Yep, she's psycho. I'm officially done with her. Which reminds me, have you ever heard of the Masters o
f Mayhem?"
"Masters of who?" We slowed the bikes to a crawl.
"Masters of Mayhem. Mirra said they are some MC that showed up at the Seven Sins last night, but Jemma wouldn't let them inside."
Flint shook his head. "Never heard of them, but I'm sure Jemma had a good reason to keep them out."
Stryker and Wilder were a good quarter mile ahead of us. The headlights on their bikes flashed like lightning as their front tires pushed through the plasma that separated the forest from Wynter. Wynter was the grimy, smoke-filled corridor between the mortal world and the underworld, the place where the souls of less than savory people headed for their harsh eternity. It was that oily, fetid corridor of Wynter where the beasts that lived and thrived in the underworld liked to linger, hoping for a chance to cross through to the mortal world. Once through, they could cause all kinds of trouble. Which was why we patrolled Wynter. We spent half our time in human form and half in wolf form chasing down the slippery assholes that wanted to escape to the mortal world.
Wilder's red roan stallion, Chino, let out a loud whinny as his motorcycle shifted to horse form. The taillight on Stryker's bike turned into long black strands of hair as Rogue's form took shape. And then they were gone.
I could taste the bitter smoke of Wynter that had seeped out as Stryker and Wilder entered. I needed to get my mind off these Masters of assholery and on to my work. For the next twenty-four hours, hunting wraiths and other slimy wretches like banshees and angry goblins would take all my focus.
