by Meg Ripley
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Sneak Peek of Stryker’s Desire: Dragons Of Sin City, Book 1 By Meg Ripley
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Hunter’s Desire
Dragons Of Sin City
Meg Ripley
Copyright © 2017 by Meg Ripley
www.redlilypublishing.com
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, with the exception of brief quoted passages left in an online review. This book is a fictional story. All characters, names, and situations are of the author’s creation. Any resemblances to actual situations or to persons who are alive or dead are purely coincidental.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; this copy is not available for resale or to give to another reader aside from any transaction through Amazon’s e-book lending program.
Disclaimer
This book is intended for readers age 18 and over. It contains mature situations and language that may be objectionable to some readers.
Hunter’s Desire is the second installment of the Dragons Of Sin City series. Each story is a standalone and may be read in any order. If you’d like to start with Book 1, however, you may find Stryker’s Desire HERE.
A Personal Note From Meg Ripley
Before you begin reading Hunter’s Desire, I just wanted to let you know how truly grateful I am for your download of this book. Writing has been a lifelong passion for me, and without you amazing readers, I'd have no one to share my crazy ideas with!
As a token of my sincere gratitude, I wanted to let you know that I’ve also included several additional steamy paranormal romance stories in this book as a bonus for you!
Also, are you a huge fan of paranormal romance, but curious about what it would be like to take a hot alien home for the night? Or maybe you have a hankering for a little fun with a rock star? I’d like for you to have a taste of all of the genres my friends and I write at Red Lily, so I’ve hand selected some of my favorite stories for you to check out and I’ve included them in this book as well. Hope you enjoy them!
Many thanks,
Table Of Contents
Hunter’s Desire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
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Sneak Peek of Stryker’s Desire: Dragons Of Sin City, Book 1 By Meg Ripley
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About The Author
Hunter’s Desire
Over the last few centuries, I've grown accustomed to getting exactly what I want.
Women who aren’t swayed by my good looks--or my reputation in bed--tend to be swayed by my eleven-digit bank account.
But not this one.
As a brilliant archaeologist, Claire Thomas has plans of her own for her time here in Sin City, but her tempting blue eyes and gorgeous curves are fueling the fire that blazes within every fiber of my body.
Her pull over me is more than mere physical attraction, though. As much as she tries to hide it, she has a powerful gift--a gift that could put her in mortal danger if it’s discovered by other dragons. Namely, my brother Damon.
I have only two choices: I can betray my family, or I can betray my heart.
But no matter how high I soar above the clouds, this enchanting beauty stays with me.
Chapter 1
The stars had seemed so bright in the dark sky of the North York Moors National Park just a few nights prior, but here, in the heart of Sin City, the lights of the Las Vegas Strip flickered and flashed with such brilliance, that the modest twinkling of those celestial bodies high above could scarcely be seen. It was magnificent, but in the same way the violent wrath of a hurricane inspires awe and wonder.
A shiver rippled down Claire’s spine, not quite in fear, but not so wholly different from it either. She’d been to plenty of big cities, from Glasgow to Alexandria, but this was her first trip to the United States, and this manmade wonder of a city was certainly the most luminous of all the places she’d seen. It seemed to light up every dark corner, leaving no shadows and no place to hide. But that was merely an illusion, was it not? Las Vegas was the epicenter of every wicked pleasure the world had to offer.
Standing at the intersection of Tropicana Avenue and Las Vegas Boulevard, her muscles twitched with the urge to scurry back to the airport. It wasn’t that she was a timid being by any stretch of the word, but a woman with secrets such as hers couldn’t help but feel overly exposed in such brilliant surroundings. Unfortunately, flying off to a dark, little corner of the Earth wasn’t an option.
She’d decided on a whim to catch an early flight, arriving days before she was expected. Now though, she questioned the logic behind spending an unnecessary weekend in the luminescent metropolis. Nevertheless, what was done was done. Besides, with the streets and buildings teeming with people, one woman was unlikely to draw any undue attention.
“You get used to it after a while,” Will Jamieson said good-naturedly in a deep, booming voice that contrasted sharply with his tall, wiry frame as he followed her gaze from one bright sign to the next. “Either that, or you start wearing sunglasses around the clock.”
She laughed, thinking that wasn’t an entirely ridiculous idea.
She’d worked with Will on and off again for the past five years, often ending up in overlapping research projects. He was the only person in the U.S. she knew well, and he also happened to be the assistant in charge of the collection at UNLV. He’d offered to show her around the city when they spoke on the phone last month, but at the moment, the only part of the city she wanted to see was the exit.
Still, he was the whole reason she’d decided to arrive early. He’d been her only friend for years, though they hadn’t spent more than a few days’ time together in the same city. Mostly, they communicated through phone or email. It was safest that way, but it was nice to get together with him outside the professional arena.
Determined then not to make a beeline for the airport, or to hide away in her hotel room, she squared her shoulders and motioned for Will to take the lead. And off they went in a straight line, which brought them to the entrance of one of the most well-known hotels in the city. Another monstrous building, of course, though one lacking the intricate detail of the historic buildings of Armagh or Rome.
Amazed nevertheless, she walked through the glass doors and into the massive lobby, the click of her low heels echoing against the marble floors despite the throng of people milling about. The concierge desk was easy enough to find, and ten minutes later, they were equipped with tickets to the evening’s entertainment: a much-raved about variety show in which they were lucky to snag tickets for, at least according to the concierge.
And it certainly lived up to the concierge’s praise. The acrobatic performance was impressive, a far cry from the traveling circus her uncle had taken her to see as a child. The dancers were truly mesmerizing, moving wit
h so much grace, it appeared as though the laws of gravity didn’t apply to them; that they floated over the glossy surface through every twist and turn.
Even the magician was entertaining. Though the illusionist she’d seen dazzle an audience in Cairo was a uniquely skilled performer, this man—a tall, lean man, despite his fifty years—had a kind of stage presence that captivated the viewer.
It was clear that his act was rising to its pitch when he looked out over the audience. “I’m in need of a volunteer,” he crooned into his microphone.
As he looked over the crowd, she could almost feel the intensity of his gaze as it settled on her. She silently willed him to move on, but it was clear his perusal had ceased as the spotlight centered above her head and he pointed directly to her.
“Would you please come up and help us out, Miss?” he asked expectantly.
Out of a crowd of thousands of people, what were the chances he would have singled her out? Then again, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing to ever happen to her, was it?
She debated slinking down in her seat, but Will was making a concerted effort to push her out of her seat by her elbow.
“Go on, get up there, Claire!” he encouraged with a big, goofy smile on his face. She would have to clarify with Will later that showing her around Las Vegas did not involve showing her the theater stage—particularly not when there were thousands of people in the seats surrounding it.
Avoiding the stares from the people in the seats next to her, she rose graciously and made her way to the stage, vowing never to return to Las Vegas again.
“And now, I’ll need just one more volunteer,” he called out after she’d joined him on stage and introduced her to the audience.
A man in the front row stood up, though the magician hadn’t called upon him. He started toward the stage, his back straight and his head held just a little higher than anyone else’s. She would’ve assumed it was part of the act if it wasn’t for the way the magician’s mouth gaped open for the briefest of moments. The hush that fell over the audience as the man ascended the stairs and crossed the stage confirmed it.
She had no idea who this man was, but evidently, he was well-known to both the performer and the audience. Though on second glance, it was quite possible that the sheer beauty of the man had stunned the audience into silence. He was tall, well over six feet, and he moved with the mesmerizing grace of a lion stalking its prey. The breadth of his chest and shoulders filled out the impeccable suit he wore, and there was no doubt what laid beneath it was sleek, chiseled muscle.
“Allow me to say what an honor it is to have you on our stage, Mr. Hunter,” the magician said eagerly as the man reached the top of the stairs.
The man—presumably, Mr. Hunter—nodded, accepting the praise graciously, as if he were well accustomed to such responses, which in all likelihood he was. He must be someone important to bring an entire arena full of people to an awed hush.
But there was more to him, she recognized as he came closer; something dark and irresistible, and as the performer welcomed the man to shake her hand, she was grateful she’d had the forethought to wear her gloves, having no desire to make contact with the Adonis before her.
The next few moments passed in a blur as she did her best to focus on the instructions the performer gave her, and as little as possible on the co-volunteer standing far closer to her than she would like. But it was almost over; though she didn’t know anything about the act, she could tell by the rising pitch of the performer’s voice and the taught tension of the crowd the conclusion must come soon.
And when it did—the magician having miraculously interchanged her extremities with Mr. Hunter’s, then returning them to their rightful owners—she bowed and left the stage, taking care to keep her distance from the man.
She returned to her seat just long enough to glare at Will and retrieve her purse. She’d had quite enough of strange magic and even stranger men. When the audience’s attention returned to the stage, she slipped out the back and took a deep, steadying breath in the relative quiet of the lobby.
“Miss,” her co-volunteer spoke from disconcertingly close behind her, effectively scattering whatever calm she’d obtained from fleeing the theater. His voice was deep, smooth and sexy; a voice one could listen to indefinitely and never grow tired of hearing.
That ridiculous thought nearly sent her running as fast as she could, but some small part of her wouldn’t let her leave. Urged toward his darkness by that same treacherous part of her, she turned around.
“I was under the impression the act was over, Mr. Hunter,” she said with more nonchalance than she felt.
“It’s Noah. Come; have a drink with me.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a cocky statement, no doubt bred from the confidence that came from his apparent status and wealth.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” she replied quickly before any part of her—small or otherwise—could ring in with its own opinion.
“You can’t? Why not?” The man was stunned.
He was definitely not the type to be told no with any frequency. He was probably accustomed to having women falling into his bed at the snap of his fingers, and here he was thinking she was no different than the others.
“Because I don’t want to have a drink with you,” she replied bluntly.
It went against her breeding to speak so rudely, but he’d irked her, and really, there was no other way to get through to a man like him—a man who was quite clearly used to getting exactly what he wanted.
“That’s a shame.”
The boyish smile he bestowed upon her did strange things to her insides, but she did her best to ignore it. Fortunately, her bluntness seemed to be enough; he returned to the theater without another word.
As the door closed behind him, she remembered the pretty blonde that had been sitting in the seat next to him, her hand intimately on his thigh. The audacity of the man! He’d been in the middle of a date with one woman, and had come following after her in hopes of securing another? Rude or not, she’d been justified in turning him down.
Feeling mollified over her behavior, she left the building. She proceeded to spend the next two days closeted in her hotel room, burying her nose in research. Not that the man had single-handedly driven her into hiding; research was a necessary crux in her field, though she relished it far more than others.
Of course, it probably wasn’t necessary to her work to have spent more than half the time researching Noah Hunter.
She couldn’t help it. Her mind had returned to him over and over again. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about him—beyond his arrogant philandering—but something had riled her deeply. The strange feeling he’d evoked inside her had lingered, though she hadn’t touched him once. It wasn’t anything she’d ever experienced before, and perhaps that was what was most disturbing of all.
What was so different about him? she wondered. No matter how many times she tossed the question about in her head, she came no closer to an answer.
Her research was of little help. For a man in the Las Vegas limelight, it was hard to believe there was little more to be found about him other than his name and recent business accolades. Aside from a lengthy list of all the women who’d been seen on his arm, she could find nothing else. And that meant Noah Hunter was a man with secrets. If there had been any doubt, that should have been enough to keep her mind off him, but it didn’t.
He followed her into sleep, half the time plaguing her with nightmares; the rest, bringing her so close to the brink that she woke up covered in a fine sheet of sweat, aching for him to fill her like he had in her dreams.
Her dreams had never been so vivid.
When her alarm sounded at six-o-clock on Monday morning, she awoke easily, gratefully abandoning the disturbing scene that had been playing out in her slumbering mind. Refusing to give the latest dream another moment’s thought, she rose from bed and got on with her morning routine as quickly as possible.
Once inside the university, Will greeted her at the department’s entrance. “Do I need to ask how your weekend went?” he goaded with a knowing smile on his face. She had a feeling she knew exactly what he was talking about.
“You don’t need to ask because there’s nothing to tell. I spent the weekend in my hotel room.”
His smile grew brighter, though his eyes looked briefly like she’d stung him.
“Alone, Will. I spent the weekend alone—not that it’s any of your business.”
“You had Noah Hunter following on your heels, and you spent the weekend alone? You know I think the world of you, Claire, but are you crazy?”
“I assure you I am perfectly sane. Now, can we focus on why I’m here?”
He stared at her for a moment as if she was a strange, unidentifiable creature, but then he nodded and opened the door that led to the archaeology department.
They exchanged pleasantries on the way to the laboratory, but she was too distracted to engage in anything more. A thrum of nervous energy revved up in her veins, increasing exponentially with every step.
She half-expected to see the atoms of her body come apart in excitation at any moment, bouncing wildly against the confines of the long corridor. It was always like that each time she stood on the brink of discovery. Though she warned herself every time not to hope for too much, she could never heed her own warnings.
