Goal: A Mate (Bachelor Auction #2)

by Selena Illyria

  Table of Contents

  Acclaim for Selena Illyria

  Look for these titles from Selena Illyria

  Copyright Warning

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  ~ About the Author ~

  ~ Also by Selena Illyria ~

  More Romance from Etopia Press

  Acclaim for Selena Illyria

  For Renny's Mate

  “With fun and engaging characters, this was a cute short story.”

  —Gabrielle of You Gotta Read This

  For Seven Sins Inn: Pietro & Callisto

  “[A] definite page turner and one I would recommend to anyone looking for an interesting and sizzling tale.”

  —Fuchsia of Long and Short Reviews

  For Dragons at Midnight

  “Right from the start I was immersed into the wonderful world that this author brings to us and I hope that it is not my last.”

  —Gabrielle of You Gotta Read This

  For Dragons at Samhain

  “I loved seeing that connection. The two men knew just what Carissa needed and were not afraid to give it to her.”

  —Gabrielle of You Gotta Read This

  For Dragon Ugly

  “The sparks fly from the moment they meet and grow into an intense love. Not only did I enjoy meeting Brent and Carissa but the rest of the characters endeared themselves to me as well. I really enjoyed my visit to this world and hope to return again soon.”

  —Gabrielle, The Romance Studio

  Look for these titles from Selena Illyria

  Now Available

  Dragon New Year

  Dragon Ugly

  Dragons at Midnight

  “Dragons at Samhain” Halloween Heat II

  Bachelor Auction

  Mate Not Wanted

  Goal: A Mate

  At Drogan’s Command

  Renny’s Mate

  Seven Sins Inn: Pietro & Callisto

  Fallen Lovers: Roman

  Carnevale and Subterfuge

  Bewitching the Vampire

  Making Demons Purr

  In Print

  “Dragons at Samhain” Halloween Heat II

  Renny’s Mate (Beach Bums Anthology)

  Seven Sins Inn: Pietro & Callisto (Demon Heat Anthology)

  The Dragon New Year Collection

  Goal: A Mate

  Bachelor Auction Book Two

  Selena Illyria

  Copyright Warning

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Published By

  Etopia Press

  136 S. Illinois Ave. Suite 212

  Oak Ridge, TN 37830

  http://www.etopiapress.com

  Goal: A Mate

  Copyright © 2015 by Selena Illyria

  ISBN: 978-1-941692-61-5

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  First Etopia Press electronic publication: February 2015

  Chapter One

  Brandon shifted from one foot to the other as he watched the shifter community’s most eligible bachelors go past the red curtain. The roar of the crowd beyond the velvet partitions filled his ears and soothed his fraying nerves. This is just like a game, he told himself. You’ve been in hostile territory before. He rubbed his hands and took in the people who had already gone before him. One of them was Pierce McKinney, owner of the new Paranormal Sports League. They hadn’t gotten to hockey yet, but he had a meeting with the Englishman later on in the month.

  “Mr. Scott?” Betsey with the clipboard called out.

  He strode forward. “Brandon, please.”

  “Uh-huh. You’re up next. Just walk to the end of the runway, slowly please, and then stop at the end. You’ll have to wait until all the bids are counted before you can return to the waiting area.” Betsey headed away toward the next victim on her list.

  “Brandon, my man, calm down. It’ll be painless. Promise.” His friend and agent, Ryan Fortunato, gripped his shoulders and kneaded the muscles.

  Bursts of fire and pain rushed up and down his arm. Brandon winced and began to move out of Ryan’s hold.

  “It wasn’t so bad.” Ryan gave him a big grin.

  Brandon couldn’t respond. All his attention narrowed down to his the shoulder. It felt as though demons had slipped into his body and started poking the hell out of the muscle. Each press of Ryan’s fingers sent spikes lancing into his arm and down his right side. Sweat misted his brow, his ears burned, and his wolf whined long and loud in his ears.

  “Shoulder,” he growled out. The predator could be heard in that single word, promising hurt and death to anyone he met.

  “Shit! Sorry.” Ryan removed his hands. “Forgot. How is it, mate? What’d the doctor say?”

  Some of the heat subsided and only a dull throb was left. He wiggled his fingers and found some of the feeling in them had faded. Sensation returned in pinpricks, as if the digits had been asleep.

  Ryan’s words returned to him once the ache had subsided. “Doc says I have to do at least two more changes before I’m back to normal. But no more hockey.”

  Sadness turned his heart into stone, a weight in his chest that hurt him with each breath he took. He’d had three months to acclimate to the news, but he was beginning to doubt it would ever truly sink in. Being on the ice was second nature to him. He missed the strategy of getting to the goal, the camaraderie in the locker room before and after the game, seeing Kelly in the stands cheering him on. Heat flooded his body, pushing back even more of the pain, until he could rotate his shoulder without wanting to tear someone’s head off.

  “Good, good. Look I have to grab something to eat. Want anything?”

  Brandon shook his head. If he did put something into his mouth, he’d probably just throw it back up. Butterflies flapped up a tornado in his stomach. Kelly had agreed to bid on him so that he wouldn’t end up with one of those man-hungry society women looking for her next boy toy. But what if she was outbid?

  “Suit yourself.” Ryan slipped away to greet one of his other clients.

  Brandon shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Brandon Scott?” Betsey, guardian of the clipboard, called out.

  Brandon’s looked up and spotted Betsey. He moved toward her, dodging around other participants of the auction.

  “Stand there and wait until the curtains part before you’re announced.”

  Brandon went to his assigned place. Moisture carved a path from his temple to his jaw. He reached up, wip
ed it away, and glanced down at his sleeve. Golden tan powder marred the perfect charcoal gray pinstripe suit jacket. He winced and glanced around. No one was paying him any mind. He rubbed the makeup on his pants. The smear was gone, but now there was a light spot on one of his legs. “Crap.” With furious motion, he patted the spot away. Why the fuck did they have to put this clown makeup on him?

  “Please welcome Brandon Scott to the stages, ladies!” the announcer called through the curtain.

  Shit! He did a quick check and found nothing out of place, then parted the panes of velvet and walked out into a sea of flashing lights. He lifted his arm and tried to shield his eyes.

  “Oh, look at that. He’s shy! Come on. Scream for him! Show him he’s welcome, ladies!”

  Screams and catcalls roared in his ears. A hand took his and jerked him forward. Sweat doused his face as the lights on the runway threatened to sear him.

  “Come on. Now, I’m sure Brandon wishes to be on the ice more than in the heat of the spotlight, but he’s here with us now. This sexy hockey player is thirty years old and loves to work with children and do community work. Oh, and ladies? He loves gardening in the nude!”

  What the fuck? Who gave her that shit to say? Brandon opened his mouth to rebuke her but was cut off by a woman’s shout. “I bid one thousand dollars!”

  Wha—? A thousand smackers? Well, now. Brandon’s blood surged and his confidence perked. He pulled his hand out of the announcer’s grasp and strutted down the walkway.

  “You’re a fucking peacock,” his werewolf growled.

  He ignored the rebuke and continued on until he reached the end. His gaze swept over the crowd until he found Kelly in the crowd. She looked like a luscious dream in a red, strapless dress. The flawless mocha skin of her arms and shoulders was on display. The neckline dipped a little, giving him only a hint of cleavage.

  Brandon’s libido roared to life. A fever wound around his veins, seeping into his body, and his cock thickened and pressed against his pant leg.

  “Well, would you look at that? Lil Brandon has made an appearance,” the announcer said.

  Brandon groaned but continued to focus on Kelly. Her chest moved up and down in enticing ways. Appreciative murmurs hummed around him.

  “Well, we just got a peek of what you could see if you were to check in on him gardening. I see twenty-five hundred dollars from Blanca of the Bitter Almonds pack… And she looks very eager!”

  Kelly licked her bottom lip, causing the red gloss to glisten even more. She raised her arm and shouted, “Three thousand dollars!”

  “Oh, looks like we could get a pack princess fight,” the announcer purred.

  “Four thousand dollars and a night he’ll never forget.” Blanca’s throaty purr could be heard above the rumble of the crowd.

  “Tacky as usual! Five thousand dollars!” Kelly snarled.

  Brandon’s heart hammered in his chest as he waited for Blanca to respond. He sent up a silent prayer that the gods wouldn’t be so cruel as to subject him to a date with Blanca the Boorish. He didn’t take his gaze off of Kelly as his ears prickled and his wolf strained to hear what the announcer would say next.

  “We have five thousand! Any other takers? Blanca?” Pause. “Going once. Twice. Sold to the lady in red!”

  Energy shuddered up and down Brandon’s legs and arms, filling his chest as his heart hammered against his rib cage. Kelly had won it. She’d kept her promise. He wanted to do a fist pump or rush down the steps at the end of the walkway to wrap Kelly up in an embrace. Instead, he allowed the announcer to usher him back behind the curtain. Heart pounding, elation filling his veins, he brushed past the throng of athletes, male models, and other bachelors to the refreshments table. People patted him on the back as he went.

  It had been relatively painless after all. Moisture coated his face and chest. He wiped it away and unbuttoned his shirt a few notches. The material stuck to him at the armpits and pectoral area. He plucked at his shirtfront, letting puffs of air cool him off. His wolf sat sedate and quiet. Now for that date. He’d been planning the ideal outing with Kelly since he’d been a teenager, alone in his room, wanking off to scenarios he thought could never happen in his lifetime. She was pack royalty, and he was a skinny slip of nothing, obsessed with hockey, comic books, and video games, things he was sure would bore the crap out of her and send her running for the hills. He’d been wrong about most of it. They’d had more in common than he could have hoped for.

  A pat on his recovering shoulder jerked out him out of his reverie and landed him straight in the land of discomfort. Anger surged hot and bitter to the forefront of his mind, bathing his vision in red. What kind of motherfucker would dare touch him on so tender a spot?

  Alberto, pack prince of the Ivory Claw pack. His former hockey rival who’d left the sport to take up tennis. The asshole patted him on the shoulder again, setting off a shockwave of pain jittering up and down his arm.

  “Good job, Scott! And a sexy woman to boot. You never know with these things. Was that Kelly Maxwell, pack princess of the Scythe Moon wolves? Nice and curvy, too.” The man’s brown eyes sparkled with mirth and his bright white teeth glimmered in the overhead lights.

  Brandon’s wolf growled. He struggled to ignore the animal and his instinct to beat the shit of the guy. “Yeah. Lucky, I guess,” he gritted out, eyes watering as the ache subsided to a dull throb.

  “Like that chip shot you took in that shootout before you hurt your shoulder?” Something passed through Alberto’s eyes, something that Brandon couldn’t name. He would have almost called it admiration, but that wasn’t like Alberto. The asshole wanted something, he was sure of that.

  Brandon opened his mouth to tell his fellow werewolf where to go.

  Pierce McKinney joined them. “Hey, Brandon, can I talk to you about the meeting later this month? I’ve got a few ideas for the new hockey league.” Pierce nodded his head toward an empty corner of the room and then grabbed Brandon’s wrist.

  Brandon allowed the tiger shifter to pull him away.

  Once they were far enough away, Pierce released him. “Don’t let him get to you. He knows you’re close to Kelly and he’s been sniffing after her since I’ve been in town.”

  Pierce’s pale blue eyes bored into him. Brandon sighed. “You know, don’t you?”

  “Your pheromones are a bit pungent. And besides, your face when she won you…?” Pierce’s eyes sparkled with amusement and a hint of sadness. “Got my own woman issues. Just keep calm, OK? Last thing Kelly wants is to bail your stupid arse out. We’ll talk later about the hockey league, yeah?”

  Brandon had known that Alberto had been hovering in Kelly’s presence, but the man didn’t seem to be making any romantic overtures as far as he’d heard. He wasn’t sure what Alberto’s plan was, nor did he buy his interest in Kelly, but as long as the other wolf stayed out of his way all would be well. He had no desire to be arrested by Lt. Alistair Marshall-Weiss for beating the shit out of Alberto. Instead he headed for the exit.

  No one stopped him, so Brandon kept going until he hit the hallway that led to the entrance of the building. He found Kelly standing with his sister Eireen near a refreshment table. Both held champagne flutes in one hand, their cell phones pressed to their ears.

  Just the sight of Kelly caused Brandon’s tension to ebb away until he was on a warm cloud. Alberto didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He smiled and exhaled as his gaze ate up all five feet four inches of her in her killer red heels. A sexy, intelligent woman with a generous heart. He couldn’t picture his life without her. She was his mate, his soul, his universe. His heart clenched. His wolf rose with a whimper. The shift tried to find traction. His lupine counterpart wanted out to brush up against her, mark her with his scent, fuck her senseless, and most of all, keep her safe.

  Brandon’s gaze brushed over her form, admiring her choice of clothing for the night. The tight red dress highlighted every curve of her voluptuous body. The small dip in the neckline gave h
im a glimpse of cleavage. Her platform pumps with slim heels showed off her toned legs while the hemline kissed the tops of her knees. He wanted to lift the skirt and see what was or wasn’t underneath.

  This auction could have ended with him having to go on a date with Blanca or one of her drones. Talking to those women was like trying to converse with a bag of burned hair.

  Kelly glanced up in his direction, worry on her face. Brandon frowned and glanced over at his sister. Reenie had been excited about bidding on some “prime pack meat” as she put it, but all her exuberance seemed to have bled out of her. Her bright blue eyes, so like his, were stormy, dark, and angry.

  Kelly’s features were scrunched, confused, and worried. She bit her bottom lip and her hand clenched and relaxed as she held her phone.

  What could be wrong? Was it her father, Martin, their alpha? Was it his parents? Did something happen to Jazz or her business? Did some shithead ruin the building? Fearing the worst, Brandon moved closer to hear what was going on.

  “Well, get them there! We needed those uniforms yesterday,” Eireen barked into her cell. She tugged a lock of hair and pressed her lips together. “What do you mean the truck is stuck in Albuquerque? It was supposed to be here by now. We open in a week.” She clenched her teeth and a muscle ticked in her jaw.

  “What—?” Brandon stepped forward. Bile swished around in his stomach and worry fisted his heart.