Shaking her head, she rushed from the room and made it down the hallway before Striker was there, taking off his shirt, his gaze upwards. He handed her his shirt. “Cover yerself, lass. I’ll take you to a guest room. You can shower and I’ll get you some clothin’.”
“Thank you,” she said, unable to hold on to her emotions. She wasn’t sure what the heck was wrong with her. Maybe Duke broke her. “Can I see Jimmy after I’m cleaned up?”
“What about yer husband?” he asked. “He’ll nae like you runnin’ after another man.”
“He’s chained up so he can just sit there and deal with it,” she said loudly, knowing Duke would hear her.
“I’m sorry!” he yelled. “I don’t know what I did wrong but I’m sorry for it.”
Striker laughed. “Och, I warned you about redheads.”
“You were right,” Duke returned. “Worth it!”
Mercy tossed her hands in the air. They were unbelievable.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Duke strolled in the direction in the room where Striker said he’d placed Mercy some forty minutes prior. Each Division Headquarters had living quarters attached. Quite often they were needed to house operatives or informants who were from out of the area. He was nearly there when Corbin and another man stepped out and into his path.
Duke did his best to hide his grumble. He knew better than to cause too much of a fuss with the man from London Division Headquarters standing there, but he found it difficult to concentrate when his mate needed him. Striker and Boomer had left him chained for nearly thirty minutes, mocking him before they let him free and insisted he shower, shave and wear something other than a chain to see his wife.
Pressing an even façade to his face, Duke rocked on the balls of his feet, wanting to get to Mercy but realizing he had to play the game. “Colonel Lovett.”
Colonel Ulric Lovett had a lot of weight and power in England and outside of it. He was descended from their line of royal lycans. As the Immortal Ops Team Leader, Lukian Vlakhusha, was to the lycans in the States, Ulric was to those in England. Didn’t matter how alpha you were, you paid your respects.
Ulric inclined his head, his ink-black, wavy, shoulder-length hair falling forward. His blue gaze locked on Duke. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
Duke exhaled, thankful Ulric wasn’t there to send him on another mission just yet. He needed time with his woman. He had to make things right.
Even though he was sure what was wrong.
“I met your mate a little bit ago,” said Ulric. “She asked if I was a testosterone-driven jackass who could turn into a wolf too.”
Rubbing his forehead, Duke sighed, embarrassed to have his superior know about his woman troubles. “Shit. Sorry.”
Ulric laughed. “Don’t be. I found her quite charming. She has information vital to us and I’ve been in contact with General Newman. We’d like to offer her a position within PSI. She would be invaluable in our research and development area—Division B State-side, of course.”
Duke was about to protest. No woman of his would work.
Corbin shook his head, before Duke could argue. “She’s a career woman. Present the option to her. If she wants it, support her decision. If you don’t, I suspect you’ll spend a lot of time in the dog house.”
“Fuck.” Duke growled and then remembered who was near him. He looked at Ulric. “Sorry.”
Ulric waved a hand and laughed. “One day I can only hope I have the same issue.”
“As do we all,” added Corbin. And Duke knew he meant it. “A mate is a glorious thing. Don’t take her for granted and whatever you do, think hard before you open your mouth. You tend to have foot-in-mouth syndrome.”
He was right.
Duke hated when Corbin was right.
They stepped aside and Corbin gave Duke a hard look that spoke volumes. He was sure Duke would screw this up. Problem was, Duke felt the same way. He didn’t want to mess up things with Mercy any more than he had, though he still wasn’t sure what he’d done to set her off.
Didn’t matter.
She was mad and that wouldn’t do.
His baser instincts demanded things be smooth between them—that they have no rifts. He was a difficult man. He knew as much. Living with him wouldn’t be easy but he cared enough about her to do whatever it took to make her happy.
You more than care for her, he thought. You love her. Tell her as much.
He covered the distance to her room and knocked gently, wanting instead to just barge in but holding back. Controlling his alpha side was a must with a woman like Mercy. She’d keep him on his toes for the rest of their long lives. And she would live a long life—pixies were immortal. The powers that be would not pair a mortal with an immortal as life mates. It would be cruel.
Duke knew from the bottom of his feet that his wife was immortal. She was also pissed.
One thing at a time.
He knocked again, wondering if she was dancing around with noise-reducing headphones again. He smiled at the thought.
The door opened and his breath caught, she was there, her hair wet, smelling heavily of soap and wearing only a PSI-issued, oversized t-shirt. She stared up at him, her lips in a soft pout.
“Are you here to talk about all the women you’ve been with in your long life?” she asked.
Wait? That was what she was upset about?
As he thought about his words to her and how they’d probably come off, he realized the error he’d made. He shook his head, standing in the hall, refusing to enter until she welcomed him. His pride was all but gone. He’d do whatever it took to get in her good graces. If that meant begging, he’d do it.
“No,” he said. “I was stupid and that wasn’t what I meant.”
She lifted a brow, saying nothing. She clearly wasn’t about to make this apology easy on him. He couldn’t blame her.
He licked his lower lip, his throat suddenly very dry. “I’m not great with words. Never have been. I’m normally in a bad mood all the time. I hate just about everything.” He paused, meeting her gaze. “But I love you and I’ve never loved anything in all my life.”
A crease formed on her brow. She stood there for what felt like forever, watching him, saying nothing. The silence was nearly deafening between them. Was she trying to give him a heart attack?
His hands began to shake. He’d never be able to handle it if his mate rejected him. “I mean it, Mercy, I love you. And I’m an asshole.”
She snorted and then threw herself at him. He caught her, lifting her in the air, his lips finding hers. He could smell her cream building and knew she was ready for him.
Growling, he kissed her harder, wanting to devour her. He barely managed to get the door shut behind them before he was moving quickly to the bed with her in his arms.
She nipped at his jawline, making it hard for him to focus on not coming in his pants. “Doc,” he pleaded.
“You said you love me.” She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth.
He fought the urge to permit his mouth to shapeshift. “I also said I’m an asshole.”
She laughed. “That part I already knew.”
He grinned and looked down at her. “So, about that anal probing you offered me when you first called PSI.”
“I didn’t offer you anything of the sort. You offered it to me.” She huffed and the laughed harder. “Pig.”
“Wolf,” he corrected.
“I should make you wait for sex until you apologize for that too,” she said playfully.
He gasped. “I’m sorry!”
She smiled wider. “Uh-huh, sure.”
“So, the anal probing?”
She kissed him, moving on him, grinding herself against him. The smallest of musical beeps caught his attention, stopping his progress. He drew back from Mercy slightly, glancing to the side. Another of the handheld tablets she seemed so fond of was there and it was making noise.
She squealed and then leapt out of his arms, leaving him standing
there, his arms empty and his cock hard.
He really hated technology.
She lifted the tablet and keyed in several things. The next Duke knew he was staring at Eadan’s image on the screen. The damn faerie was interrupting sex with Duke’s mate. A low growl emanated from him as he glared in the direction of the entirely too blond male on the screen.
Eadan grinned ear to ear, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “Called Corbin’s phone first. He said you were busy but he gave me Mercy’s contact information.”
“I’ll be sure to thank him,” Duke bit out.
Mercy sat on the edge of the bed and Duke had to move around to her side to keep his sights on Eadan. “Hi, I’m Dr. Mercy Deluca and I’ve just spent the last twenty minutes reading up on you and your Immortal Ops.”
“Did the files mention they were punks?” asked Duke.
Mercy waved a hand at him dismissively before looking to Eadan. “I was told you are Fae.”
Eadan nodded, seeming entirely too pleased with interrupting Duke. This was the thanks Duke got for helping save Eadan’s ass a week ago. He bent, putting himself closer to the view thingy—whatever people called it. “You owed me, faerie.”
Eadan snorted. “All the faerie jokes are coming back to haunt you. Mercy,” he said, his focus on her.
Mercy moved the tablet so she was centered in the small box on the screen. “I’m here. Ignore him. He wants sex. He can have that when I’m done talking to you. If he’s a good boy.”
Eadan roared with laughter and had to take a moment to calm himself before speaking. “Green has your test results in front of us here,” Eadan said, motioning to the tall redheaded male near him. “He says you’re part pixie. He also seems excited to speak with you.”
Mercy waved. “You’re Dr. Thaddeus Green.”
“I am,” said Green. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Deluca. I’ve read some of your publications regarding biometric engineering. I cannot wait for a chance to talk in person with you. Eadan tells me you’ll be back in the States before the week’s end.”
Mercy glanced at Duke, excitement in her eyes. “Will we?”
As much as he wanted inside her, he couldn’t deny her this moment of science geek bliss. He nodded. “Yes, baby, we will be.”
“Oh, can I meet him?”
Duke hid his laugh. “Yes, Doc, you can meet him.”
She dropped the tablet and launched herself at him again. “Thank you!”
Duke glanced down at the tablet and then kicked it under the bed. He wanted his woman, audience be damned.
Epilogue
PSI-Division B Headquarters—USA
Duke pulled his woman into his arms, inhaling her scent, his body thrumming with pleasure. He couldn’t recall a time in his life when he’d been so happy. The men sat around the briefing room table, waiting for Boomer, who was late.
“When do I get to meet Tut?” asked Mercy, now a staff member of PSI. She was head of Research and Development at the division. She loved the job and had only been at it a week.
Corbin cleared his throat. “Malik hates to be called Tut. He’ll be in within a week. He checked in this morning. I, of course, am leaving all this news until he’s present.”
“Oh,” said Mercy, glancing at Striker who had probably told her Malik loved being called Tut. She narrowed her gaze and Duke watched the Scotsman sink lower in his chair. He nearly laughed at the sight of Striker being nervous of Mercy, but then again, Duke held a healthy dose of fear of her.
He’d seen what she could do when someone she loved was as risk.
She still denied it was her doing, but all the men knew the truth. Mercy was powerful and Duke couldn’t have been happier to know as much.
Boomer entered and held up his phone. “Sorry I’m late. One of the wildlife preserves and rehabilitation centers I fund just sent me updates.”
He was big on animal rights and supporting rehabilitation. All the men were, but none to the extent of Boomer. Duke suspected the man had his personal demons and reasons for it all. He didn’t ask.
Mercy shot out of her chair. “News on Lil’ Duke?”
Duke groaned.
Striker laughed.
Corbin even seemed amused.
Nodding, Boomer handed her his phone. “There is a picture of Lil’ Duke.”
Mercy took the phone and looked confused. “He’s wearing a tutu.”
Boomer scratched the back of his head. “Uh, yeah, he likes to play dress up and that is his favorite piece. Couldn’t talk him out of it.”
Sighing, Duke lowered his head as the team began to laugh and look at him. He flipped them off. “Hey, let the monkey wear whatever he wants to wear.”
“He’s not a monkey,” Boomer and Striker said back in unison, glancing at Mercy for her approval.
Kiss asses.
Mercy approached and hugged Duke, her breasts pushing against his cheek, making him forget what he was angry about. “Stop picking on my husband.”
“Sorry,” said Boomer.
“Och, I’m nae the least bit sorry. Will you dress up in pink frilly things too, wolf?”
“Fuck off,” Duke said, pulling his woman onto his lap.
She snorted and then touched her stomach, her laughter fading fast. Her other hand went to her mouth and she paled.
Worry lanced his heart.
The door to the briefing room opened and James appeared, using a cane to help steady himself. He was still far too thin for his frame and wasn’t healing anywhere near the rate he should, but he’d insisted on being reinstated on the team and being given his position as lead physician at the facility. He took one look at Mercy and nodded.
“I was coming to find you to share the news on your current round of tests,” he said. He glanced around the room. “I give it five, maybe ten minutes before they all smell the truth.”
Duke inhaled deeply, wondering what the hell James was talking about. It was then he noticed the scent of his mate had changed. There was something different—new. She smelled even more like him.
Confused, he looked to James.
James smiled widely. “Looks as though you’ll have a new addition in about nine months.”
Mercy gasped. “I’m pregnant?”
James nodded.
Duke paled and had to take several deep breaths. He was going to be a father? It took a moment to realize all eyes were on him. As the news sunk in, he shot up and out of the seat, Mercy held up and in his arms. He lifted her high, excitement racing through him. “Did you hear that?”
She looked a bit green. “Down or I’ll vomit.”
He set her down gingerly. “Did I hurt the baby?”
She groaned. “You shook me up when I’m nauseous. You’re lucky I didn’t get sick on you.”
He laughed. “I hate vomit.”
She smiled weakly.
“But I love you, woman.”
She touched his cheek. “I love you too, man.”
THE END
About the Author, Mandy M. Roth
Mandy M. Roth grew up fascinated by creatures that go bump in the night. From the very beginning, she showed signs of creativity—writing, painting, telling scary stories that left her little brother afraid to come out from under his bed. Combining her creativity with her passion for the paranormal has left her banging on the keyboard into the wee hours of the night.
She’s a self-proclaimed Goonie, loves 80s music and movies and wishes leg warmers would come back into fashion. She also thinks the movie The Breakfast Club should be mandatory viewing for...okay, everyone. When she's not dancing around her office to the sounds of the 80s or writing books, she can be found designing book covers for New York publishers, small presses, and indie authors.
Mandy writes for The Raven Books, Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Harlequin Spice, Pocket Books and Random House/Virgin/Black Lace. Mandy also writes under the pen names Reagan Hawk, Mandy Balde, Rory Michaels and Kennedy Kovit.
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Administrative Control (Immortal Ops) by Mandy M. Roth
As Director of Operations for the Immortal Ops Organization, Colonel Asher Brooks has his hands full. When he’s not trying to keep six alpha males in line, he’s trying to help them defeat the enemy. Brooks isn’t the type to share about his personal life. When given the opportunity to have quality time with the one woman who rocks his world, he takes it, regardless of the cost.
Excerpt from Administrative Control (Immortal Ops)
Colonel Asher Brooks stepped out of the shadows near the old warehouse. The warehouse had been the scene of one hell of a throw-down. Brooks had seen worse.
Much worse.
Truth was, this was hardly a drop in the bucket for him.
The entire area smelled like a mix of death and fish. Neither were great on their own, but combined they were nauseating. He avoided deep breaths as he surveyed the situation.
Act of Mercy (PSI-Ops / Immortal Ops) Page 16
