Ridley Cross will stop at nothing to break her family curse—including enslaving an innocent man, EJ Nicolis. He doesn’t deserve it, but regardless of the consequences, she’ll use him as a means to an end. However, the more time she spends with EJ, the line between survival and passion blurs. Can she trust the man she has shamelessly used?
Trapped in a prison of his own flesh and bones, EJ Nicolis will kill the one who placed him there. No matter how much he hungers for her, he will resist her amethyst eyes, her pouty lips, and fiery soul when he wraps his hands around her slender, graceful neck and...
With evil at every turn, the Descendants of Ra are out to rescue their brother EJ—and make her pay—Ridley can’t afford to fall in love. The stakes are higher than her desires.
Greater than her needs.
More important than his life.
Or hers.
Copyright © 2016 Tracy Stephens
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Dedication
To my mother up in heaven.
I miss you much, and I hope you’re proud of me.
To the Ex...Still don’t think I can do this?
Tmonique’s Books
Descendants of Ra series
Entrapped Prequel (coming soon)
Eternity Book 1
Everlasting Book 2
Evermore Book 3
Encore Book 4
Forever Novella Book 4.5
The UnHallowed Series
Only The Fallen (Book 1)
Only One I Want (Book 2)
Only You (Book 3)
Only One I’ll Have (Book 4)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Epilogue
Glossary
Acknowledgments
Author Bio
Chapter One
Day One.
EJ Nicolis sat petrified in a ratty tan BarcaLounger. The planned destruction and death of one person gave him focus and kept him sane. It didn’t matter how fine her ass was in the red tartan mini. Or how her thighs peeked all milk creamy between the slats of the skirt. Or how freaking sexy her candy apple red, patent leather, knee-high Doc Marten’s gleamed in competition with pouty red lips and her amethyst eyes. As soon as he freed himself from his forced servitude, Ridley Cross was a dead woman.
Day Five.
Fury pulsed with every heartbeat coupled with certain madness. The kitchen faucet dripped with the regularity of a metronome. A toilet in a neighboring apartment flushed. A door slammed with determined regularity. A crying baby drowned out the sound of a game show on TV from an apartment upstairs. From every direction, the sounds of life surrounded him, highlighting his isolation. He was virtually a zombie without the undead, cannibalistic tendencies.
A well-nourished cockroach marched with military precision up his leg, over his abs and chest to crawl inside the collar of his sweater. He felt it moving along his skin, crawling between the sparse hairs scattered over his pecs. Silent screams reverberated in his skull as he sat helpless against an inch-long insect. This was his new definition of hell.
If that wasn’t bad enough, always the scent of someone’s breakfast, lunch or dinner teased him at regular intervals. No food or water since his body had been hijacked, yet he wasn’t dying from hunger or thirst and didn’t need to take a piss. Combined, all of the unknown tested his sanity. And he was beginning to fail.
Spending one hundred and twenty hours in the tenement hadn’t been his choice. Nothing had been his choice since meeting Ridley Cross. Her name rang in his head, a curse waiting to be spat once he regained the use of his jaw, tongue, and the rest of his six hundred thirty-nine muscles and two hundred and five bones in his damn body.
Five days had passed since he’d seen her last. Was Ridley dead? Please, God. No. That privilege belonged to him. But if she was…where did that leave him?
Doing an impersonation of Ol’ Abe at the Lincoln Monument, that’s where. Chilled to the marrow of his bones, the thought looped in his brain along with who would be the lucky bastard to find his desiccated body? And how long would it take?
She did this to him—placed his body in some type of suspended animation. Maybe I won’t shrivel into a slab of jerky right away. He would’ve smiled at his own humor if his muscles weren’t frozen.
If he had powers like Roman, Reign, and now Avery, he wouldn’t be in this fucking situation. Spilled milk and useless what ifs were for girls. He didn’t need fancy powers to get out of this stew. He’d find a way. Always did. Always would.
Move. Just a tiny bit. Just a hair…please. Arm, hand, fingers, now he concentrated on his pinky and begged it to rise, curl, twitch, anything to prove he wouldn’t remain this way forever.
He tried to move an inch, a millimeter even. No go. Ridley told him to stay here, and like a good piece of shit, this is where he landed. So, this is where he remained. A goddamned, blasted statue. Thank God, he wasn’t outside. All he needed was a bird to take a dump on him. Oh no, he’d forgotten he was the POS, and birds didn’t shit on shit.
Khuket, the Goddess of Chaos, had rearranged his nervous system and
stolen his free will with Ridley’s help. Panic rose like a flash flood and threatened to swallow him. For the tenth, or maybe the one-hundredth time, he battled the sickening effects. As a mercenary, panic was the one emotion you never allowed a foothold.
Prey panicked.
Predators planned and took advantage of opportunities. It was the first lesson Avery taught him.
The last time EJ saw his brother, Avery was on the roof of the Order. He was caught between Khuket and two glowing obelisks. All three drained the life out of him while EJ watched in silent fury.
Let my brother be alive. If not...Contemplating Avery’s death left a canyon-sized hole in his chest. If not…I will avenge him.
Boundless energy thrummed through his tense muscles. Ready. Waiting. For the first opportunity to strike. He would ask only one question before that eventual end…How? The why didn’t matter. How and the consequences of Ridley’s actions were the only items on his agenda.
EJ had never killed a woman. He’d come close in Afghanistan. Avery had taken the shot that ended the suicide bomber before she completed her mission. That was their last assignment together. Now...
The front door opened and frigid air washed over him. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see who entered, but he knew the signature of the staccato footsteps.
She stepped into his line of sight.
Built for speed, she was svelte with long, sleek legs and sweetly flared hips, dressed in the tartan mini-skirt. Her breasts stretched a red cropped sweater. They were small, no more than a handful. Well…he had big hands. She captured his attention in the same knee-high, candy apple red Docs and creamy thighs.
Candy Cane.
At first glimpse, he’d wanted to unwrap her and lick from the top of her boots to her Cupid’s bow lips. That was his first thought when he saw her at the home of the Order days ago.
Now, he wanted his hands around her slim neck.
Five days ago, her white pixie hair had been matted with blood, her face swollen from a cut cheek and a bruised lip from the tumble they’d taken through the vortex that dumped them on the other side of town. All of her damage had healed before his startled eyes.
Was she immortal? A god like Khuket? A demi-god like Roman and his twin Reign? Strange shit had climbed out of the woodwork since last summer.
EJ backtracked the months until he settled on one defining event—the day Roman, the leader of their family, found his soulmate, Stella Walker. After two thousand years, he had found the only woman he could love. Then everything went to hell. So much for that love conquers all bullshit.
EJ strained to rise and confront the woman who marched into the dingy one bedroom apartment located somewhere in upper Manhattan. His frozen muscles clamped down hard on his bones, causing an unbearable ache in every cell.
Dirt streaked the curve of her cheek and dulled her vibrant platinum hair. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Ridley said without meeting his eyes. Her gaze centered somewhere over his head as her left foot tapped nervously. She ran a hand through her hair, disturbing the spiky ends. “I just needed the entire Book of Eidos translated. Khuket was supposed to do that. Her agenda and my agenda didn’t sync.”
She rambled, but he understood enough. The strategy she’d initiated imploded from her lack of planning, and then exploded. The results: her ass-kicking and his zombification. She walked around him, her boots stomping in a determined rhythm. He tried to follow, but his situation hadn’t changed. Human statue.
“I can’t free you, don’t know how. I think only Khuket can, and I don’t know if she’s alive,” she said from somewhere behind him. “I figure she survived since you’re still under the influence. And if she didn’t, the answer to free you—and save me—may be in the book left at the Order. Luckily, I made copies. Though only a few pages.”
Ridley dropped to her haunches in front of him. She’d never been this close. Her amethyst eyes—violet flecked with silver—so brilliant in her pale face, met his.
“I don’t know why I bother talking to you.” She traced a finger down his cheek. Her lips curled into a frown. She sighed and tapped his temple. “There’s nothing in there. You’re an empty shell.” Her gaze moved lower to his chest. Lower to his abs. Lower…
Her hand dipped into the pocket of her red leather coat and retrieved a photo. EJ couldn’t see the image so he studied the solemn expression on Ridley’s face, happy that something had caused her pain. A choppy sigh eased from her, and unshed tears shimmered in her eyes. Her forehead dropped to his knee, and her shoulder trembled.
Concern was the last thing he expected to feel, but it was there. This wasn’t the woman who’d left him to rot. That woman wouldn’t have tears to shed.
Her chin rose, and she scooted between his knees. “I’m sorry, s-sorry for all of this,” she stuttered, her breath hitching between each word. “Sorry you got caught in the crossfire, but you’re here now, and I need you—your help, your muscle.”
What would bring her this low to seek an enemy for help? And could he use it to his advantage?
She stood, popped her hands on her hips, and widened her stance. “You will help me.” Gone was the contrite person who had just apologized. “Okay, let’s make this official. Look at me,” she demanded.
The order bulldozed his will. His chin tilted and his gaze traveled up her body, past her exposed belly button, the cropped sweater molding to the swell of her breasts. His gaze continued the journey, pausing at the deep hue of her full lips.
“I said, look at me.” Impatience stamped her voice. And a bit of fear.
Good. She should be afraid. Very. Because he was going to kill her. Slowly and with great joy.
He looked past her nose, flaring with each agitated inhale to finally meet her gaze. Brows lowered over her eyes, she expected his complete obedience. And he was powerless to refuse.
“Elroy Jasper, you are my bodyguard.”
He cringed at the sound of his full name and swore additional vengeance.
“You will do what I say, when I say. Protecting me from any injury, any enemy is your primary goal. If you understand, nod.”
He understood plenty. He was now her brick wall, her armor, her bulletproof vest. Up and down, his head moved. Now I’m a damn bobblehead! A string of curses ricocheted inside his head though none left his lips.
“Rise.”
He unfurled from the chair. Seated for so long, his muscles screamed in relief. His joints snapped, crackled, and popped.
Her lovely face glowed with amusement. “You sound like an old man.”
That’s because you made me sit for five fucking days! Rage. Four letters meshed together to denote an emotion. That’s what he should feel. The only thing that made sense. Instead, curiosity had him studying her. What did she need with him? Something illegal?
“Sorry for leaving you here for so long. I move faster without you.”
He’d seen how she moved. There one moment, gone the next. Once he was free, he’d find a way to immobilize her and get some payback.
Where are we going? The words stayed in his head because she hadn’t given him permission to speak.
“Put on your coat and follow me.”
She opened the door, and like an obedient slave, he fell in line behind her, powerless to disobey.
For now.
Chapter Two
Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.
Ridley’s heart hummed along, cognizant of the approaching deadline but unable to do anything to alter the predetermined course of her life. Her doomsday clock inched toward the day she would draw her final breath in two short weeks.
Cursed. Destined for an early death all because her ancestor fell in love and bore a daughter with the wrong god. Ra punished the woman and left the offspring to mourn the parent’s death. If only it ended there.
Restrained energy thrummed through her body as she jogged down the subway stairs and onto a crowded platform. Her muscles twitched, hating the slow pace. She had
no choice with EJ tagging along. Bodyguard. She’d never thought she’d need one. After the fiasco on the roof of the Order, EJ might be the only thing preventing her early demise. It would be foolish to think the members she’d helped enslave would turn the other cheek and forgive.
I wouldn’t.
If the shoe were on the other foot, and after all that had happened, forgiveness would come at the end of a gun.
Maybe if I explained. Yeah, tell them why your life was more important than their freedom.
Then there was Emeline. How to gain her forgiveness?
“I had no choice,” she mumbled and instinctively reached for her most precious possession, her locket with a snippet of hair inside. Her fingers brushed over the bare space between her neck and the swell of her breast. She’d lost it the night of the fight on the rooftop of the Order. With everyone wanting her dead, she couldn’t return and search for it. But God how lost she was without it dangling around her neck.
A subway train screeched to a halt and the doors chimed open. She shuffled inside and leaned against a pole in the middle of the car as the train chugged along. Her treachery was the only way to get the information she’d needed from the Book of Eidos. Remorse settled in her gut. What she’d done to the women of the Order—Don’t think about that! Stay on task.
The subway train sped around a curve. Ridley grabbed onto the pole to keep from bumping into the person nearest to her, not that there was a chance of that happening. At five o’clock in the afternoon, gridlock had a firm hold on rush hour. Shoulder to shoulder, there wasn’t a square inch of space available, except if you were Ridley. The only one crowding her was EJ.
While the rest of the train had people pressed together, breathing in each other’s stench, no one encroached on Ridley’s personal space. Maybe it was the kiss of death sneer on EJ’s grill and not his intimidating six foot six size granting her breathing room. Whatever the reason, she’d take it since his inability to keep up with her caused them to ride the subway instead of zooming along at super speed.
She glanced at her watch. It didn’t tell time, just the days counting down to midnight on New Year’s Eve. She’d be dead one second into the New Year.
Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4) Page 1
