by Sara Page
“I am Princess Ameia, daughter of Trivent the current sovereign of Terrea. My people are on their way to aid me. If you are still here when they arrive, they will use lethal force against you.”
Okay, so the last bit was a bit of a bluff but I really need him to think it’s not a good idea to keep messing around with me. If he even does understand me.
He takes a step back, away from the pod, yet his glowing eyes continue to bore into it. I hold my breath, waiting, hoping he’ll decide I’m too much trouble.
Outside, it continues to grow darker and darker. Inside the pod, the temperature feels like it's dropping. I can’t stop shivering. Outside, it must be just as cold yet the naked alien man doesn’t appear to be the least bit affected by it. The seconds tick by until it feels like minutes have passed. My heart is thumping like a drum in my ears. Go, just go, I mentally urge him.
He takes a step towards the pod, I almost cry out with disappointment. Then he seems to think better about it and turns away. I blink, and he disappears into the darkness.
I thought I would be relieved to see him go. I let go of the breath I was holding. But now that he’s gone, I only feel more nervous. Maybe it would have been better if I had just kept him where I could see him…
Continue reading the Ravager Chronicles…
Also by Sean Moriarty - Keeping Lily
Chapter One
Lucifer
“Motherfucker!” Comes out of my mouth in a growl as I shake my hand.
The punch to this piece of shit’s jaw sent tingling sensations up my arm.
Mickey Dalton sputters gibberish out of his busted lips. “I… I… Swear I will pay… just gotta…”
I’m tempted to keep this up, but fuck it. I have bigger fish to fry than this small time fucking gambler.
Looking over the man’s shoulder, I nod to Andrew. “Ensure he fully understands how much he owes. Remove his pinky.”
“Yes, sir.” Andrew nods.
“Wha… No!” Mickey shouts as Andrew heads to the table where he keeps a black bag stowed.
Turning around, I look at Simon, my right-hand man. “Where are we at with the other three files?”
“Two have been collected on, the last I was waiting on your judgment.”
“Marshall Dawson.”
“He has flat out refused to cooperate with any of our attempts to collect. He believes his status is untouchable. He will give us no answer on where he was or what has happened to our money.”
“Is he finally home?” I ask.
“Arrived earlier tonight.”
A metallic snip rings out into the room followed by a high-pitched scream. I turn to see Andrew wiping the blood on the guy’s t-shirt.
Andrew raises his voice only slightly as he grabs the man by the throat. “Stop fucking squealing, asshole. Lucifer doesn’t like hearing pigs fucking about.”
Walking out through the door and into the hall, I look to Simon. “How are the spreadsheets with Bart coming along?”
“Clean, with everything accounted for…”
“Yet, you still have doubts?” I ask him as we walk.
“I do. I just can’t explain why.”
“Keep an eye on him then.”
Simon holds an umbrella over my head as we walk out of the abandoned hotel. The shattered glass door slams shut behind us as he ushers me into the sleek black Mercedes SUV.
Getting comfortable in the backseat, I reach over and pull the file left on the other seat for me. The name Marshall Dawson is neatly typed on the tab.
I let out a quiet sigh to myself. I knew this one was going to come back as a thorn in my side.
Marshall Dawson is a waste of breathable air. The man used the connections he had with my father and another city boss to secure a loan from us. Five million in cash.
Five fucking million dollars with nothing to show for it.
Five fucking million dollars down the drain.
I took this on as a favor to Sean O’Riley. A favor to a now dead and buried man.
Shit like that doesn’t sit well with me. But when I went to the top to seek retribution, I was stonewalled. I was told the man who killed Sean, and all the surrounding issues, have been dealt with.
Fuck that. I want my pound of flesh.
Shaking my head, I open the file. It’s no use going down that train of thought right now. I can pursue it another time if I need to.
I slowly flip through the pages we have on Marshall.
It’s funny how we can put a file together on a person where he is reduced to twenty or so pages. I can see every payment he has made on his mortgage to how many times he has been in the overdraft with his bank.
I look at his legal outstanding debts, and I look at the five-million-dollar debt he now owes to me personally. Anger is slowly creeping through my veins.
Flipping through the pages, I look at his family life. Since he borrowed the money I have had one of my men keeping close tabs on his family. He is married to Lilith Merriweather, aged twenty-seven, and has two children, a boy and a girl. Both children under the age of seven.
I look at the picture of Marshall for a long time as we drive through the late-night rain. The man is closer to my father’s age than mine. How did he marry a woman so young? Money and his slimy charm must have played a large part of it.
I look through the pictures of his family quickly. The children are pretty in a child way. Blonde hair and blue eyes, they must take after their mother. Marshall must have married way out of his league.
My fingers stop as the picture of his wife comes up. Emerald green eyes, sensuous pink lips, high cheekbones, pale flawless skin and long blonde hair. All of those parts on their own would make her remarkable. Even if her face was overall plain just one of her features would stun a person. But together they make something otherworldly.
She is beauty incarnate.
Fingers tracing the lines of her lips, I frown. How the hell did that man marry a woman like this? I flip further through the pictures of her. There aren’t many, but what I do see shows me that she is unlike any other woman I have ever laid eyes on.
She is perfection.
There is a rather candid photo of her putting groceries in the back of her red Volvo station wagon. Her hair is all over the place. Her slender legs are encased in yoga pants, feet in Uggs. Her daughter looks like she is giving her problems as she tries to watch her and still put groceries in the back.
Even this… domesticity calls to me.
There is a glamour shot of some type mixed in and I can see just how haunting those eyes are. They are calling to me, pulling me in to get forever lost. I can feel my hands curling into themselves. She is pulling me from where I sit in the SUV.
“Take me to Marshall’s, James,” I say to my driver.
Looking back at me from the front seat, Simon says, “Now? You don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”
“No. We’re going there now.”
The car makes a few turns as we pull off the freeway and then back on again.
My eyes drift out the window for a moment to look at the rain that has been pelting down on the city all week.
Looking back to the picture, though, I see something I haven’t seen before—a light. Inside I feel an ember flaring to life.
My muscles are going taut with expectation.
I need to see this woman; I need to see if what the pictures show me is true.
Lily
My husband, Marshall, is sleeping beside me, snoring loudly, and I have the strongest urge to smack him.
I want to scream in his pale, pudgy face. I want to tell him to wake the fuck up. I want to ask him why he’s back in my bed.
But I just lay beside him and stare up at the ceiling instead.
It’s time to accept reality.
Our marriage is done.
Dead.
Today was the final nail in the coffin.
First thing in the morning, after I get the kids off to school, I’m going
to meet with a divorce attorney. I can’t go on like this. This is no way to live, this is just…existing.
And I’m sick of it.
After growing up dirt poor, I married Marshall thinking I would finally have financial security. I would always have a roof over my head. I would never go hungry again.
Foolishly, I believed his lust for me would turn to love. That like an arranged marriage, our feelings for each other would grow after time. If we had children, we could make a real go of it.
But this, the lack of love, the lack of care, isn’t worth it. I rather starve than stay in this loveless marriage.
Marshall has been gone for weeks, traveling on business. He’s gone more than he’s home. Ever since our first child, Adam, was born six years ago, he’s been finding more and more reasons to leave us.
There’s always some client on the other coast that needs his help. Or some corporation up north that has to have his expertise or they’re going to lose millions on… something…
It’s funny, even after almost eight years of marriage I still don’t know exactly what his job title or true profession is. Whenever I ask him about it he just brushes me off, doesn’t have time to explain it, or says I wouldn’t understand.
Like I’m some kind of idiot.
If I was an idiot I wouldn’t know about all the women he’s been hooking up with. I know that’s one of the reasons he’s always leaving us. He has a girlfriend in every city.
Yet, he won’t even touch me when I throw myself at him.
I sigh, looking down at the red nightie I bought from Victoria’s Secret and pull the blanket up to cover my breasts.
He won’t even touch me when I’ve taken great pains to dress up for him.
Suddenly my eyes feel swollen and my nose stings. I have to blink back my tears and take a deep breath. Rolling my eyes back up, I focus on the ceiling.
This shouldn’t hurt, dammit. This isn’t a bad thing, this is good.
This is… freedom.
I no longer have to pretend this is a real marriage. No more keeping up appearances on Facebook. No more making excuses for him with my family and friends.
No more trying to explain to the children that daddy is sorry but he had to miss their birthday—again.
This is a fresh start, a new beginning.
I’ve been doing everything on my own for years now. Losing him won’t make much of a difference.
Marshall suddenly grunts loudly and rolls over.
The air turns sour and I resist the urge to gag.
Gah, he is such a pig.
Chapter Two
Lily
I’m not sure what wakes me up. It could have been the light turning on.
Marshall’s loud, “What the fuck?”
Or the soft, menacing voice that says, “Hello, Marshall. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
Even under my warm blanket, that voice sends a chill down my spine and I peel my eyes open, shivering.
At first, the light is too harsh on my eyes and I have to blink several times before the strange man standing in our bedroom comes into focus.
This must be a dream, I convince myself and squeeze my eyes shut. I open them again but I still just can’t believe it.
There’s no way that man is real.
Standing in the center of my bedroom, the man is illuminated by a halo of light coming from the lamp. The light seems to love him, clinging to him. He’s glowing and so alluring, he looks almost angelic.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house? You can’t just come walking in here…” Marshall sputters. His fat fists grab the blanket, yanking it away from me as he pulls it up his hairy chest.
I gasp as the cool air hits my breasts and the sound draws the attention of the angelic stranger. He turns his icy blue gaze on me and I’m utterly stunned as our eyes meet.
With just a look I feel held by him.
Trapped.
Frozen.
Helpless.
He’s so beautiful it hurts to look upon him. The kind of beauty that’s so strong, so deeply felt, it’s like experiencing a piece of music that moves you and staring into the sun at the same time.
Tears prick my eyes and my skin tingles as I break out in gooseflesh.
His face is a composition of features so perfect that now that I’ve glimpsed them I fear all other men will be forever compared to him.
Chiseled cheeks, full, pink lips. A strong jaw and straight nose. Blonde hair so pale it’s nearly snow white and brushed back from his forehead.
It feels like an eternity passes as we stare at each other across my bedroom and then his eyes break away only to slide down, warming as they lock on the pale swells of my breasts.
A flush creeps up my chest. I’m not naked but in this little lacy nightie, I feel like I am.
I grab the blanket and Marshall cries out as I yank it back. He shoots me a dirty look but I give him my coldest glare and practically dare him to try and take it back.
Screw him, no one cares about his hairy man-chest.
The stranger watches our little tug of war, his lips curving with a hint of amusement.
Marshall finally gives up on trying to wrestle the blanket away from me and decides to steal my pillow instead. Covering his chest with my pillow, he hugs it tightly and puffs up as he says, “If you leave now, Lucifer, I’ll forget this incident ever happened.”
Lucifer? Is that the stranger’s name? How strange and morbid. Yet, I swear I’ve heard that name before, on the news or in the paper…
The stranger’s eyes flash and the amusement disappears from his lips. Two dark shadows shimmer behind him and I swallow back a gasp as I realize those two shadows are two other men.
What the hell is going on? Who are these men and why are they in my bedroom? I turn to Marshall and watch him squirm uneasily.
What did Marshall do?
“You’ll forget this ever happened?” Lucifer says coolly and his eyes narrow with menace. “Just like you forgot to pay me back the five million dollars you owe me?”
All the color drains instantly from Marshall’s face and his eyes dart from side to side as if he’s trying to figure out an escape plan. “I already paid that back. You’ll have to talk to Sean if you want your money.”
“Sean’s dead.”
I watch Marshall’s mouth open then close, then open again. He sputters and gasps like a fish out of water, his face starting to turn blue from the lack of oxygen.
I can’t believe Marshall borrowed five million dollars. What would he need with so much money? I know I haven’t seen a penny of it.
“I paid Sean the money,” Marshall finally gets out, and then rushes on to say, “I don’t have five million to pay you…”
Lucifer takes a step towards our bed. “That’s too bad.”
“Wait!” Marshall cries out in panic, the grip of his fingers tearing at the pillow he holds to his chest. “Maybe we can work something out? I could—”
“I’ve had a look at your assets. You have no means to pay me back,” Lucifer says dismissively and takes another step toward the bed.
I look between Lucifer and Marshall and now I’m starting to feel panicked. Lucifer has only taken two steps towards our bed but there’s clear menace in the way he’s moving.
What is he going to do? Are they going to hurt Marshall?
Are they going to hurt me?
Lucifer takes another step and Marshall whimpers. He whimpers.
The sound has my hackles rising and I wonder if there’s something I could do. I glance towards my phone on my nightstand. The moment I don’t think they’re looking at me I’m going to make a grab for it.
But it might be too late for Marshall by then…
I could start screaming, but the only good that will probably do is wake the children.
Marshall is pushing back against the headboard like he believes he could escape through the wall if he tries hard enough. Then he shoots a pleading look towards me.
Marshall’s eyes widen suddenly as if he’s had a revelation.
“You want my life as payment?” he squeaks out.
Lucifer lifts an eyebrow and inclines his head. “Yes. That’s how these things usually go, isn’t it?”
Marshall licks his lips nervously, looks to me then back to Lucifer. “Would you accept another life as payment?”
He’s not about to say what I think he is, is he? No, he wouldn’t. No decent human being…
Lucifer’s upper lip curls with disdain but his voice sounds interested. “What are you proposing?”
Marshall is too cowardly to stop hugging his pillow so he nods his head to me instead. “Take her. Take my wife in my place.”
I’m so shocked, so floored, I suck in a sharp breath that never ends.
“You want me to kill your wife?” Lucifer asks and it feels like all the warmth was just sucked out of the room.
“No, of course not…” Marshall recoils at the murderous look on Lucifer’s face. “Just hold her as a deposit, an insurance, while I get you the five million.”
“You mean a ransom?” Lucifer clarifies.
Marshall nods his head up and down. “Yes, yes, that’s it. A ransom.”
My lungs full of air, I expel it all in a loud, “How could you!” and make a lunge for Marshall.
I’m not an object he owns. He can’t just trade me away to some creepy, beautiful stranger to save his own neck.
Marshall squeaks and scrambles away from me. I end up chasing him until he falls out of bed, landing on his ass.
I grip the edge of the mattress, panting with anger as I watch him scuttle backward until he bumps into Lucifer’s legs.
“As much as I would love to accept your offer,” Lucifer says as he pushes Marshall away with the toe of his shoe. “I’m afraid your wife is not worth the five million you owe me.”
Damn. I blink up at Lucifer, feeling utterly conflicted. On one hand, I don’t want to be given away, but on the other, it stings the ego a bit to hear I’m not worth five million dollars.
I snort though as Marshall goes to his hands and knees, kneeling in front of Lucifer to beg for mercy.
