The Pleasure Project (Jax)

by JAX

  That was when she saw the first shot hit her mate’s body. It was a shoulder shot, entering the front left shoulder and blowing a hefty hole out the back.

  Jenesis would remember very little of what happened next. The sight of her mate being attacked triggered everything Morphate inside of her all at once. Fangs and claws exploded in a fury, as did the vicious lunge of her body. Before Kincaid could even move forward, she was on the second guard, biting his firing arm with all of her strength and ripping at it in a head-shaking motion like a dog with its favorite bone.

  The torsion against the guard’s shoulder ripped his arm free of its socket. The Morphate guard screamed as muscle and sinew detached. He fell to the floor, leaving his arm between her jaws as she shook blood over herself and her mate.

  Paulson saw the way of things and made haste for the door. He was only interested in more backup, and the alarm button was just outside.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” Kincaid snapped, burying his claws into the man’s legs. Once he had hold of the doctor, he hauled him hard toward the cage. He missed the door by a few feet, allowing Paulson to rebound in full Morphate glory.

  “I’m an Alpha in my own right,” he growled. “Did you think I wouldn’t make sure of that?”

  Paulson ripped into Kincaid with vicious swipes of his claws. Hauling all his weight forward instead of back, he made for Kincaid’s throat. What he got for his trouble was a blindsiding headbutt from the left as Kincaid Gregory’s mate made her bid to help and protect him. Paulson raked at her even as he fell to the ground from the power of her charge. He caught her along the side of her face, tearing her from forehead to chin.

  His most recent mistake in a lineup of many. Kincaid was on him in a heartbeat, teeth in his throat, compressing … rending.

  Kincaid left Paulson much the same way Paulson had left him when he’d had him shot through the throat. He didn’t care. He didn’t even feel satisfaction over exacting some form of one-on-one revenge. The price of it had been too high. And he turned instantly to the one who had paid that price.

  Adrenaline and Morphate mutation aside, she’d never been injured so badly before. She’d recoiled in shock. Kin went to her quickly, his arms wrapping tightly around her.

  “I know it hurts, honey,” he soothed softly.

  But just the same he had to force her up on her feet. The hallway was empty beyond the open door, but for how long? He wouldn’t have them doing to her what they had been doing to him for the past few days. He bent to press his lips to hers in an encouraging kiss; then sweeping her blood from his lips with his tongue, he urged her into the hall.

  * * *

  Epilogue

  Kincaid entered his penthouse apartment, the one he had lived in before moving above the labs in an effort to keep a closer eye on everything. The building wasn’t very high, characteristic of all the historic buildings in Dark Philly. But he occupied the top two floors, the rest remaining empty for when Nick, special clients, or visiting Morphates came to town. But this apartment had a beautiful stone terrace, patiently cultivated greenery bringing a bit of living landscape to the spectacular view of the City.

  He found Jenesis there, as usual, her knees pulled up to her chest and a cup of tea resting in her hand as she stared off into nothing. Her face was healing, the raking wound a soft pink and nowhere near as bad as it had been two days ago. In fact, it was almost indiscernible, if not for the darkened pigmentation that came from her insistence on sitting out in the sun. But that, too, would be gone by the next day. He wished he could say the same for the shock and depression she was in.

  But he wasn’t going to push. He’d be the last person to push. So he kept talking to her, as if she were present and attentive.

  “Well, the lab was gutted and Paulson’s gone, as expected,” he said. They’d been in Mexico. It wasn’t easy to rally forces to invade the lab in a speedy manner. His position as a Morphate Alpha held little sway with Mexican authorities. As far as foreign countries were concerned, Morphates were the problem of the Federated States. So he’d had to wait until the Alpha Council could rally a force to send after him. They’d had to go Black Ops because technically Morphates had yet to be given permission to travel outside of the country. Hell, they weren’t even allowed to live outside of the Dark Cities.

  He pushed his testiness about that aside. That wasn’t where his major concern rested at the moment.

  “They torched the place this time.” Much in the way Paulson had destroyed the Philly lab. It had infuriated him to hear about it while being held captive, but seeing the aftermath had hurt. Especially considering there had been loss of human life in the process. Dark Philly didn’t have the fire departments it needed yet. And even though the building had been fitted with the latest in fire prevention, it hadn’t been enough to prevent injury and death from collapse and explosion. The Morphates had all survived, of course. Again, not his main focus.

  “Can I get you something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry for food.”

  He’d been reaching to pluck a dead leaf from a plant in an absent need for occupation, but he froze a moment and then turned quickly to face her. She’d barely said a word to him since their escape. He’d started to wonder if he didn’t have what it took to help her after all. Maybe he ought to get her professional help; something none of them had had the advantage of originally.

  Then her distinction struck him. Suddenly a wash of insecurity crept over him. Just because they’d connected so quickly in the stress of Paulson’s lab didn’t mean she’d want anything to do with him now. Just because his Morphate self wanted no one else but her and had come to grips with that a while ago, that didn’t mean she would feel the same.

  “I …” He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to offer her alternative sources of blood. The dead leaf crumbled in the clench of his fist. “You can use me for that, you know. I won’t … I don’t expect …”

  “Don’t expect or don’t want? After all, I’m not human any longer. I’m the doctor who made you. And now the thing you hate most about yourself as well. I can hardly blame you.”

  He was across the patio and kneeling before her in an instant, her elbows in his hands as he drew her up, the cup she’d held falling to the stone and shattering, tea splashing over his pants.

  “I don’t hate you. I hate nothing about you.”

  “Do you say that because your Morphate makes you? My Morphate says the wildest things to me. I suddenly understand how you separate the two halves of yourself in your mind.” Her eyes went wet as she looked down into his. “How arrogant you must have thought me, lecturing you on how to mesh your two selves, how to find your lost humanity. With this raging inside of you, how could you?”

  “You’re saying that now because you’ve not fed yet.” How had she managed to go nearly five, six days without doing so? he wondered suddenly. When he’d first awakened, there was no stopping him. He’d taken the first female he’d gotten hold of. It’d been that way for almost everyone. “Are you doing this to punish yourself? Or because you know what it will mean once you’ve crossed that point? Feeding won’t change the facts. You are Morphate now, Jenesis. You are part of this clan.”

  “Tailor-made. Lucky you.” She reached to touch her fingertips to his lips and he could smell green tea on them. Sugar. A touch of honey.

  “I’d have been much happier if you’d stayed who you were.” He cursed when he saw the hurt that entered her eyes. “Shit. I mean … I don’t want you to have to go through this. Am I going to lie to you and tell you I’m not glad that I’ll be able to touch you without ripping you to pieces? No, I never wanted to hurt you. I held back every single time I touched you, trying not to hurt you. But I’d rather do anything other than watch you struggle with this. I wish I’d never been so selfish as to think it was a good idea that you put yourself at risk like you did. If I’d been thinking, I’d have considered this possibility. I’d have realized that no one should get within
inches of that maniac. Certainly not someone I—”

  “Certainly not someone you felt should be your mate.”

  He closed his eyes and sighed.

  “You know what? I’ve been a fuckup. I see that so damn clearly now. I wish I could take back at least half the times I acted the ass to you. But please don’t let that keep you from feeding. I’ll …” God, was he able to? “I’ll promise you not to touch you in any other way if that’s what you want. I hope it’s not what you want because I haven’t been able to think straight since the day I first laid eyes on you, and that’s only gotten more intense with time. I understood that before Paulson got hold of you.”

  “Did you? Or is that just a convenient truth?” she wondered as she examined his features closely.

  “Nothing I say will ever make you believe that unless you want to, so I’m not going to argue with you about it. However, I will say … I have a long time to redeem myself, if you see fit to let me.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “That’s true. I could make you pay for your obstinacy for a very long time.”

  “You do recall that I’m Alpha?” he growled in soft warning to her.

  “You do recall that I am Alpha female?” she countered.

  His heart caught tightly, wanting to soar and yet afraid to.

  “You need to feed first,” he tempted her softly.

  And suddenly she flashed ferocious fangs in his face, a hissing growl spitting out of her an instant before she sank them into his neck.

  Clothing disappeared from both their bodies, more torn away than stripped off. When she straddled him to impale herself on him, it was with very little preamble or foreplay. None was needed. The bite itself was a form of foreplay that could not be matched. And the understanding that she now could fit him perfectly inside of herself meant much less to him than the way she was smiling down at him, licking his essence from her lips and touching her fingertips to his face with a fondness that Morphate ferocity on its own would not have allowed room for.

  Or so an outsider might think. The initial feeding and mating was coarse and harsh, but by his third orgasm there was none of that left, and everything tender and human took its place. She was growing tired by then, still not accustomed to her new self and still several days deficient in her nutrition. But that would come in time.

  Everything would come in time.

  Project Seduction

  JENNA McCORMICK

  Dedicated to

  The Sanibel Divas:

  Ladies who know how to have a good time.

  Next round is on me.

  * * *

  1

  The rumble of thunder had Jace transferring his disgusted look from his POS rental vehicle—which had died an untimely death alongside the North Carolina mountain highway—to the heavy black clouds gathering swiftly overhead. Fracking perfect. A fat drop of water landed on his sunglasses. The twenty-second century had yielded plenty of innovation, but unfortunately, a way to control the weather wasn’t part of it. Removing his vintage aviator sunglasses, he cursed the unseasonable storm along with his own pride in renting the sleek hovercar. Since the pricey two-door model didn’t have tires to ground it, waiting inside it to be electrocuted during a lightning storm was a piss-poor option.

  The whole visit to his home state had been a crappy plan. His father and brothers were too busy with the apple crop to talk to him for more than five minutes, and he’d lost count of how many times his mother had crossed herself while shuffling nervously around her kitchen, sending him furtive glances. To say she didn’t approve of his career choice as a pleasure companion was a massive understatement. No doubt she prayed for his immortal soul every single night and twice on Sunday. After five hours—a new record—he’d had enough and hopped in the rental to head back to the airport.

  “And look where that got me.” Thunder clapped again, drawing nearer. He couldn’t use his comm unit to call for help because it, too, would act as a lightning rod. No sense standing next to the big metal conductor. Grabbing his duffel out of the backseat, Jace started hoofing it back the way he’d come.

  The skies opened, sending a deluge of water down on him. Within minutes he was drenched to the skin, shivering against the gusting wind. The black T-shirt and jeans normally so comfortable clung unpleasantly to his skin, and his boots squished with every step.

  Cresting the hill, he squinted into the gloom, looking for shelter of any kind. The rain fell so hard and fast that visibility was obscured more than five meters. Trundling through his memories, he tried to recall exactly what was around here.

  Nothing, unless he counted trees, rocks, and gray squirrels. This far into the Blue Ridge Mountains, towns were fewer and farther between. Most folks probably had the good sense not to be driving around in weather like this.

  The thought had just registered when he saw the headlights coming at him. Jace waved over his head in big motions, hoping to catch the driver’s notice. The lights came closer and then stopped altogether. Running over to the passenger’s side of the vehicle, an ancient pick-up truck, Jace reached for the handle and yanked the door open.

  And stared down the barrel of an energy pistol.

  Dropping his bag in the mud, he held up both hands. “I’m not armed.”

  “As you can see,” a soft feminine voice drawled, “I am. Just so we’re clear.”

  Jace lifted his gaze past the weapon to the woman wielding it. She was a stunner with big blue eyes and wild curly brown hair down to her waist that was tinged with the slightest traces of gray. A few freckles spread across her nose like stardust against her pale skin. Her mouth was set in a firm line, and he gulped as he realized she had what it took to pull that trigger.

  “Please,” he said. “Could you give me a lift? I promise I won’t try anything.”

  Pulling up the weapon, she stowed it in the holster she wore on her hip underneath her flannel jacket. The way she handled the sidearm—with confidence, practicality, and efficiency—mesmerized him.

  He wondered if that was what she’d be like in bed.

  “Well, are you getting in or not?”

  Oh, baby, I’d sure like to get in you. Shoving all lewd thoughts and comments aside, Jace picked up his bag and climbed into the truck.

  “Where’re you headed?” Sliding him a sidelong glance, she depressed the gas pedal.

  “Eventually, New New York.”

  The corner of her mouth kicked up. “ ’Fraid I’m not going quite that far.”

  “Really, if you could recommend a motel or an inn, anywhere I can stay the night so I can call the rental company to ferry me back to the airport once the storm passes.”

  “You can stay at my place,” she informed him.

  Jace blinked. Had she just propositioned him? There was no way for her to know he was a certified pleasure companion, and he certainly hadn’t volunteered the information. Maybe this was a thing with her, trolling the mountains for men to bring home. Not sure how to respond without offending her, he shifted in his seat. “Um … ?”

  Cutting her blue-eyed gaze to him, she grinned. “Don’t look so frightened; you’re not in for a full-fledged cougar attack. I own an inn, the Green Oaks just outside of Boone.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking,” he fibbed. Cougar, huh? He scrutinized her closer. A few fine lines around the corner of her mouth and around her eyes betrayed her age. Laughter lines, he guessed from the way her face creased so naturally into a smile.

  “Liar,” she called him on it. “I was just being a Good Samaritan.”

  “More like a pistol-packing mama.” His gaze dropped to her sidearm.

  She threw back her head and laughed. The deep, throaty chuckle drew him in. He appreciated a woman who could let go and laugh so freely. “Hey, I’m a female traveling alone. I probably wouldn’t have stopped to help you if I didn’t have a little reassurance that I could handle you.” She lovingly stroked the hilt of her sidearm as she spoke.

  Lust stabbed Jace
in the groin as he watched her long, feminine fingers trace over the sleek metal. Though he doubted she’d intended the double entendre, he imagined her “handling him” with such a sweet caress.

  “What’s your name?” she asked, returning both hands to the steering wheel.

  “Jace Donovan,” he answered, still half lost in his fantasy featuring her softness on his rigid flesh.

  Dark eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Of Donovan’s Orchard?”

  Crap, of course she would know his father. Businesses in this area all tended to run in the same social circles. “That’s my family’s place, but I don’t live here anymore.” And never would again.

  “Ah, the prodigal son. Homecoming not all you thought it would be?”

  Jace turned to stare out the window. “It never is.”

  Silence reigned until she stopped the truck. “Sorry, I’m too damn curious for my own good. I’m Evie by the way, Evie Ripley.”

  Maybe it was the fact that she could dismiss his sexuality so easily, or residual wounded pride from his family’s rejection, but looking into Evie’s kind blue eyes, Jace knew before the night was out, he would seduce her.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Evie.”

  Evie sagged against the bedroom wall, trying to reclaim her equilibrium while Jace showered. Even sopping wet from the storm, he was incredibly sexy, with those gray-green bedroom eyes, light brown hair, and roguish chin stubble. And his mouth. Lord have mercy, those full, sensual lips made her remember exactly how long it had been since she last had sex.