by Dia Cole
Claiming Her Mates: Book One
Dia Cole
Contents
Summary
1. Havana
2. Havana
3. Mason
4. Havana
5. Liam
6. Havana
7. Gabriel
8. Havana
9. Mason
10. Havana
11. Liam
12. Havana
13. Gabriel
14. Havana
15. Mason
16. Liam
17. Havana
18. Gabriel
19. Havana
20. Mason
21. Havana
Afterword
About the Author
Books By Dia Cole
Excerpt from Heaven Before Hell
Summary
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Thank you
Claiming Her Mates: Book One
All rights reserved.
Published by Black Diamond Press LLC.
Copyright © 2018
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction, electronic sharing, or other unauthorized use of this book is prohibited without the express written permission of the publisher.
Cover Art by Addendum Designs
Edited by Anne-Marie Rutella
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-946975-12-6
Three Lykos shifters swore to protect Havana. But who will protect them from her?
With everyone bailing on my holiday party, I didn’t think the night could get any worse. Then three scorching hot men storm the club and demand I come with them. Thinking they’re cops, I run only to discover the flu vaccine is turning people into monsters.
Now my survival depends on Mason, Gabriel, and Liam. I should be terrified of their glowing eyes and the way they destroy any threat in our path, but all I can think about is claiming the fierce men as my own. All three of them…
One problem.
My ex has threatened to eviscerate any man who touches me. Too bad the deadly Alpha male isn’t here. He’ll rue the day he broke my heart and ordered his three gorgeous friends to rescue me.
For the brothers...
1
Havana
“What do you want for Christmas, you naughty girl?” asked the middle-aged man leering at me. The light from the dusty chandelier reflected off the gold band on his left hand, temporarily blinding me.
He probably told his wife he was working late. Ugh. Years of playing my seductive role prevented me from curling my lip in disdain. Instead, I continued undulating to the beat of the dance music being piped into the small red velvet VIP room.
“Come on, you can tell me,” the man insisted, stroking his Santa-like white beard.
I should’ve been coy with my answer, but the truth sprang from my lips before I could bite back the words. “Someone to share it with.”
The man blinked up at me with blood-shot eyes.
Great, Vana, why don’t you just kill the mood? Trying to salvage the moment, I tossed back my hip-length black hair and winked playfully. “Is that someone you?” With a practiced flick of my fingers, I slowly removed my silver-studded black top and tossed it to the man.
He tried to catch it and missed. The tiny scrap of material slithered to the blood-red carpet as he fixed his gaze on my swaying bare breasts.
“Have you been a bad boy this year?”
“Y-yes,” he stammered. His eyes glazed over as he swayed in his seat.
He must be trashed. Good. A drunk and his money are soon parted. Throwing club rules out the window, I stepped down from the small raised platform I was dancing on and approached his chair. “Then you need to be punished.”
“Yes, Mistress Robin,” he gasped. Unlike most of the club patrons intrigued by my dominatrix persona, this one seemed truly snared by the fantasy. For the right price, I was happy to indulge him.
I cast a furtive glance at the camera nestled at the base of the chandelier. In the past, Max, the club owner, might’ve skinned me alive if he’d caught me doing a little extra on the side. Now he’d only ask for a percentage.
Times were tough for everyone. Strip clubs included. Case in point, this guy managed to secure a private dance from me for a mere seventy bucks, something that would’ve been unheard of before the canine flu hit this past spring. But global pandemics had a way of changing things.
I leaned over the man, my nipples grazing his rumpled tweed vest. “It’ll cost you.”
“I have money.” He reached into his olive dress pants pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet with trembling hands. “How much?”
I arched an eyebrow. “How much do you have?”
He opened his wallet and out fluttered several receipts.
Sadly, it looked like he had only a handful of twenties, but it was better than going home broke. “That works,” I purred. I wouldn’t have sex with him, of course, but men like him weren’t after that anyway. Years ago, my mom explained some men get off as much on pain and humiliation as they did pleasure. Ah, the joys of having a stripper mom. While other kids were learning how to ride bikes, Mom was giving me crash courses in the various ways to seduce men. Big surprise I ended up at the same club where she used to work.
The man swallowed hard, sweat dripping off him as if he was in a sauna. “Take it all.” He pushed his wallet at me.
I found myself staring at a family photo. Gathered in the arms of a heavyset woman were three young children. I couldn’t help glancing between the professor and the photo. Why isn’t he home with them? Hell, if I’d had kids there’s no way I wouldn’t be with them right now. With a pang, I remembered the big amber eyes of the little girl I’d used to nanny for. I miss Mira so much…
Her father’s handsome face flashed in my mind and my throat tightened. It’d been three months since Nathan shattered my heart, but the pain was still fresh. Trying to put my ex out of my mind, I flipped past the photo and found the twenties. Mentally tallying the money, I pulled out the folded bills and slid them into the top of my thigh-high stiletto boot. A genuine smile tugged at the corner of my lips, it was a better haul than I’d anticipated. “Take off your clothes, Dr. Sullivan.”
He gaped at me for a moment.
I tossed his wallet back at him not bothering to explain that I’d seen his Southern Arizona University ID badge inside. “I said, take off your clothes. Now.”
He jumped to his feet. “Yes, Mistress Robin.” He gazed up at me adoringly.
My five-foot-ten height plus my seven-inch stilettos ensured I towered over nearly everyone I encountered, including the professor.
He fumbled with the top buttons of his oxford shirt before realizing he needed to remove his vest first.
“Fold your clothes and place them over there,” I instructed, pointing at the side table that in better days held ice buckets filled with Cristal. Now a bottle of drugstore champagne swam in a plastic tub of melted ice.
He practically tore off his vest and shirt. As he unbuckled his belt, he turned to face me. “I’ve never done this before.”
I made a noncommittal noise. Right. That’s what they all say. Finally noticing his bare torso, I inhaled sharply. What the hell? Black veins covered the man’s flabby arms and a portion of his silver-haired chest. I’d seen some strange-looking tattoos over the years, but nothing like that. Unable to help myself, I asked, “What’s going on there?”
&nb
sp; The man looked down and paled. “My God. Those weren’t there this morning.” He gave me a frantic look as if I had the answers.
I backed up a step studying his bloodshot eyes, pale skin, and sweaty face with new eyes. He’s not just drunk. “You're sick.” And that meant I needed to get as far away from him as possible. I’d never heard of the canine flu causing dark veins like that, but you don’t mess around with a bug that killed a quarter of the world’s population.
He raised his hands. “I’m not. I just got the canine flu vaccine yesterday,” he said, mentioning the coveted shots the CDC had just rolled out. “I-I don’t feel so good.” His knees buckled, and he fell back into his chair.
Shit. “I’ll get help.” Max will know what to do. I turned to grab the curtain.
“No. My wife. She can’t find out…” he gasped sliding to the floor.
Damn. If the guy passed out in my VIP room, I’d never hear the end of it from the other girls. Especially Jess. That nasty redhead would love to get one over on me. She’d been downright venomous since I reported one of her stupid pranks to Max. Who the hell coats the stage steps with baby oil? Seriously. I’d taken a nasty fall and probably fractured my spine, not that I could afford to get my aching back looked at by a doctor.
“Please, don’t call Sharon,” the professor wheezed bringing my focus back to him.
“No one will call your wife. Just relax. I’ll be right back.” I bent down, retrieved my top and tied it back on.
He nodded, flashing me a relieved look.
I blinked. Are more of his veins darkening? Shuddering, I pushed through the heavy velvet curtain door and rushed down a long hallway back into the main club. Immediately I was assaulted by the smell of liquor, cigarette smoke, and the twang of the latest hit country single. On the stage, the new girl, Jade, twirled around the pole in a cowboy hat and crotchless chaps. Poor girl, I thought with a stab of sympathy. Max had wanted me to cover Jess’s country set after she was a no-show for the second time this week, but I’d talked him into having the new girl do it. Good experience and all. Seeing her dance to a sea of empty tables filled me with guilt. No one even watched. Sly, one of the regulars, was already passed out and the group of dark-haired men sitting in the back of the club ignored her.
As if feeling my gaze, one of the heavily tattooed men looked up at me. He gave me a once-over and flashed me a dazzling set of gold teeth. The long-haired man sitting next to him followed his friend’s gaze and leered at me with a predatory intensity that made me glad for the knife hidden in my boot. A girl couldn’t be too careful these days.
I bit back a shiver of fear as the long-haired man beckoned me over. Their gang, the Calaveras, was one of the deadliest in Arizona and I needed their kind of attention like I needed an engineering degree. Ignoring the men and their menacing vibe, I scanned the rest of the near empty club for Max.
He was at the bar, eyes glued to the television along with Donna, the cocktail waitress, and Justin, the gray-haired bartender who looked like he’d been a defensive lineman back in the day. I’d always wondered why he had a television at his bar. I mean who comes to a strip club to watch TV?
Donna looked up as I approached. “Honey, you need to see this. There’s some freaky shit going down.” She ran a hand through her bleach blond hair, knocking aside the felt Santa hat she was wearing.
I shook my head. “Tell me about it. I got a guy covered in black veins about to pass out in the VIP room.”
“What?” Max jerked his bald head up so fast his jowls shook.
“We might need to call an ambulance.” I waited for Max to make an obscene joke, but instead a panicked expression crossed his face.
“You said his veins were black?”
I nodded.
Donna let out a gasp. “The news reporter said to watch out for people with dark veins. Some folks are having bad reactions to the canine flu vaccine. They’re getting sick and…” she lowered her voice, “turning into cannibals.”
I gave her an incredulous look. “What?”
“See for yourself.” She waved at the television hanging above a tower of colorful liquor bottles.
On the screen a flustered news reporter was babbling. “Reports of violent behavior in some of the recently vaccinated are coming in from all across the country.”
The program cut to a clip of dazed-looking people in hospital gowns attacking a young man on the street. The jerky footage must’ve been taken on someone’s cell phone. Whoever was holding the phone kept repeating, “Holy shit,” over and over while the crowd literally tore the screaming man to pieces.
My stomach churned as I watched the deranged crowd gulp down handfuls of the man’s flesh. “That’s horrible. I can’t believe they showed that on television.”
Donna shook her head. “It’s not just happening here. It’s happening all over the world. They rushed the flu vaccine to market without doing the proper tests and now it’s turning people into monsters. Oh, God. And just an hour ago I was cursing the fact that they didn’t have the vaccine available for Gavin.” She let out a sob at the mention of her son who’d died of the flu earlier in the year.
“Don’t cry, muffin,” Max said in a gruff voice. He slung one beefy arm around Donna’s thin shoulder and gave me a hard look. “Get that sick guy out of here. Now.” He used his don’t-argue-with-me voice.
That tone hadn’t worked on me since I’d been ten. “But Max—”
He interrupted me. “I’ll call him a cab. You get him in it. We’re closing early tonight. Donna, go get Sly up. I’ll tell Mr. Diaz and his men that they need to leave.” He looked over at the dark-haired men in back and shuddered. “Let’s hope they don’t kill me,” he muttered under his breath as he headed over to their table.
I’d take the sick professor over throwing deadly gang members out of the club any day. As I turned to walk back to the VIP area, Donna called my name softly.
I spun around to see that the older woman wore an anxious expression on her face.
She smoothed an invisible wrinkle from her short black skirt. “Honey, I’m sorry but Max and I won’t be able to make your Christmas Eve dinner.”
“Oh,” I said, trying not to let my disappointment show. You and everyone else. “That’s too bad.”
“We’re sorry to miss it, it’s just that with everything going on…” She waved weakly at the television set. “And it’s our first Christmas without Gavin.” Her voice hitched.
“I understand.” I reached over and hugged her. I missed that kid something fierce. Pushing the memory of the mischievous little boy out of my mind before I started tearing up too, I looked over at Justin. “You and Sam are still coming, right?”
The big guy shook his head. “Sorry, sweetheart. Sam just wants to do a family thing this year.” He gave me an apologetic smile.
Family thing. Right. “Well, more turkey for me,” I said, hiding my misery with a smile. “Have a good night.”
Donna and Justin waved as I headed back toward the professor. My chest tightened. Bad enough that the anniversary of my mother’s death was Christmas Eve. Now I’d have to endure it alone.
The wail of country music faded as I moved past the stage and through the long, deserted hallway. I stopped at the closed velvet curtain to the room where I’d left the professor. A low moaning sound came from inside. “Dr. Sullivan?” I reached out to pull open the curtain and hesitated. I’d never realized how far from the main club this area was. What if the professor is sick like the people on TV? What if he attacks me?
2
Havana
A large hand clamped down on my shoulder.
A shriek lodged in my throat as I spun around and came face-to-face with two tall, muscular men.
The shorter man, if you could call a man over six feet short, offered me a dazzling, panty-dropping smile. “Sorry to startle you, love.”
The man’s sexy English accent paired with tousled blond hair and ocean-blue eyes had me returning his smile an
d flipping back my hair. “No harm, no foul. How can I help you?”
The other man stepped forward. His six-foot-four height put me at eye level with the black eye patch over his right eye. The patch combined with his five o’clock shadow and collar-length hair gave him a definite bad-boy vibe that made my blood hum.
“We’re here for you,” tall dark and handsome said in a deep voice.
Holy hotness. I’ll stay after hours for these guys. I licked my lips feeling my hormones wake for the first time in months. “If you want to step into a room—” I gestured to the open rooms down the hall “—I’ll be right there.”
Tall dark and handsome frowned. “You misunderstand. Havana, you need to come with us right now.”
The sound of my real name had me staring at the two men in shocked silence for half a second. “Do I know you?” Have I danced for them before? No. I'd definitely remember men this good-looking.
The clean-shaven blond, who looked like a GQ model, shook his head. He wore khakis and a blue polo shirt under his jacket, which matched the stunning hue of his eyes perfectly. “I’m Mason Wheeler and he’s Gabriel Perez.”
I looked over at the dark-haired man whose black clothing and golden complexion almost made me mistake him for one of the Calaveras. But there was no way I would’ve missed his eye patch and smoldering good looks among the gang members.
Why are they here for me? There was only one plausible explanation. “Are you guys cops?”
The two men exchanged a look.
Fucking A. And I didn’t think my night could get any worse. My stomach sank and my mind raced as I tried to think of a reason the cops would want to talk to me. “Is this about the Strip Club Killer?” My throat tightened as I remembered how close I’d come to joining his victims.
“No,” Gabriel said.
Okay. Then what? “Look, I pay my taxes.” Maybe I didn’t always report every tip, but enough.