The Triumvirate's Consort

by Shannon Peters

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  The Triumvirate’s Consort

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-016-0

  ©Copyright Shannon Peters 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2012

  Edited by Laura Hulley

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-melting and a sexometer of 3.

  This story contains 43 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 3 pages.

  THE TRIUMVIRATE’S CONSORT

  Shannon Peters

  Can three warriors convince an uninterested and unwilling betrothed to accept their bond and help lead an alien race?

  Evie Flint is feeling underappreciated in her professional life, and just a tad lonely in her personal life - but getting kidnapped by three gorgeous alien hunks who claim she’s their missing betrothed is not the solution she was looking for.

  Dane, Taz and Cort are surprised by their resistant consort and employ all their powers of persuasion in order to convince their woman to take them as partners. Evie has to decide — can she take them all?

  Dedication

  For the Writers’ Coven—thank you for all your support, advice and TimTams!

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Polo Ralph Lauren: Ralph Lauren Corporation

  Calvin Klein: PVH Corp

  Chapter One

  “He’s still watching you. They’re all still watching you.”

  Evangeline Flint frowned at her girlfriend Melissa. “I don’t care. I’m not here to pick up. I have to be back at work in fifteen minutes.” She sipped from her straw. She was on to her second scotch, and it still wasn’t going to be enough anaesthesia for the coming afternoon’s budget meeting.

  “C’mon, Evie, live a little,” Melissa urged as she put her wine glass on the table. “They’re definitely interested.”

  “How can you tell? They’re all wearing sunglasses.” Inside a pub. On a dark and gloomy afternoon. Go figure. Yet they didn’t look ridiculous. They looked—well, hot.

  “He’s obviously into you. He and his friends have been staring at us—you, for over half an hour.”

  And that’s exactly why she wanted to run back to work. She wasn’t the blonde nympho type that Melissa was, or the hot-man magnet that their other friend, Paris, was. She was Evie. Tall, dark, blend-into-the-background Evie. She made the effort to disappear in a crowd, and, at six foot, she was used to some stares, but only because of her above-average height. She never attracted any other kind of attention, and didn’t know what to do with it when she did. They were looking at her. Staring—at her. Her nipples peaked in her lacy bra. She’d checked the men out, too, but hopefully nowhere near as obviously.

  Evie glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder at the gentlemen at the bar. They stood out like construction workers at a tea party. Three of them, all tall, broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, with expensive sunglasses masking their eyes. The one with the dark hair kept drawing her gaze. She wished she could see him clearly. His curly dark hair brushed the collar of his shirt and should have looked scruffy, but instead it looked rumpled and sexy, begging for a lover’s touch.

  At that moment he looked up from the conversation he was having with his blond companions, and met her gaze. He nodded at her, and Evie blushed as she looked quickly away. Hoo-yeah. He was gorgeous. Like a model from a Polo Ralph Lauren advertisement. No, make that a Calvin Klein advertisement; at least then he’d be near-naked.

  “I have to go, Mel. Baxter wants to do a quarterly review. I shouldn’t be late.”

  “Baxter wants to do you, Evie. Anyone else in the department can look after that report. Why do you think he’s always trying to get you to work back late?”

  Evie shuddered. “No way in hell is there ever going to be anything between me and Baxter.” Her boss was a prick. In his late forties, balding, in need of a diet, a toothbrush and a strong deodorant, he was an unhappy man who enjoyed making others as unhappy as he was. But he also worked on some great regional projects for the logistics company that employed them, and, if she could just manage to last long enough, she’d gain the experience that would allow her to apply for a role in any of the larger overseas offices. She could travel, develop her career, and hopefully even take on a developmental role within the company. She just wanted to be a respected and valued member of a team, and she’d realised she had more ambition than being Baxter’s financial manager.

  First, though, she had to get through this quarterly review. She cast one more wistful glance over her shoulder to the trio at the bar. All three men, good-looking to the last, stared at her intently. If she’d had another double scotch, she might have had the courage to flirt with them. Smile and give them an encouraging wave, maybe—but that was more Melissa’s outgoing nature than her own. Evie needed the guy to make the first move. Which probably explains why I’m home alone so many Saturday nights, she mused.

  She bent over in her seat to grab her handbag, and sneaked another quick peep through her eyelashes. They were all so yummy, though. The one in the middle, the one with the dark hair, kept watching her. Maybe she had had enough scotch, or maybe hanging around Melissa was starting to rub off on her. Either way, she slowly drew her handbag up, sliding it along her leg and past her knee, aware that he was tracking the movement. Something twitched in his expression that she could see even from this distance, something hot and wild. She concentrated on getting up out of her seat without tripping—so maybe it was the scotch. It was a pity, but she couldn’t work on an early Friday afternoon session at the pub with Melissa and retain her job. Not this week, anyway.

  “Are you coming back to the office?” she asked her friend.

  Mel slid a coy glance towards the patrons at the bar. “Actually, I think I might stick around here, for a while. My supervisor is in a meeting for the rest of the afternoon, so nobody is going to miss me.”

  Evie smiled as she shook her head. “Every time I try to play hooky, Baxter always ruins it. You, on the other hand, have a gift for it.”

  Mel twisted in her chair until she was facing the three men at the bar, and crossed her legs, ensuring her skirt rode up to show an ample amount of thigh. “Oh, baby, I intend to play more than just a little hooky.”

  Evie glanced briefly at the men. They were all still there, staring at her. “Well, enjoy,” she murmured wistfully, and left the pub.

  She eyed the dark sky outside with some misgiving. It was only two o�
��clock in the afternoon, but grey storm clouds had gathered, making it seem later than it was. She hoped it wouldn’t start raining before she got back to work.

  It was a seven-minute walk back to the office, so she hurried down the block. Her heels clicked on the sidewalk, and she hoisted her bag over her shoulder. Thunder cracked, and big rain droplets began to fall.

  “Great.” She didn’t have an umbrella. More drops fell. Another crack of thunder, and then the skies opened up and heaped all of the universe’s misery down on to Evie. She started to run. She didn’t want to spend the afternoon in a wet, transparent blouse with Baxter ogling her and trying to seduce her with chronic boredom.

  She paused at the alley that separated the downtown city blocks, and scanned the road. No cars turning. She stepped off the kerb—but her foot didn’t hit the ground.

  A strong arm wrapped around her waist, a big hand clapped over her mouth, and she was swung off her feet and carried into the dark alley.

  Chapter Two

  Evie struggled against her captor. She managed to kick him in the shin, and was satisfied when she heard a grunt.

  “Help me hold her, Taz,” a voice growled near her ear.

  Then there were two pairs of arms clutching her. She was held in a strong grip, with a man’s arm around her torso, and another around her waist, and two warm, muscular bodies bracketing her own. Rain pelted down on all of them, the tall buildings lining the alley providing little protection from the elements. She tried to turn her head, to see her captors.

  The men from the pub.

  She didn’t have time for this. Baxter was probably striding up and down the meeting room now, fuming at her tardiness.

  The dark-haired man from the pub stepped in front of her. He removed his sunglasses.

  Blue.

  His eyes were blue, but not a normal blue. It was like looking into a pool, with mesmerising blends of blue, silver and dark indigo shifting and swirling. Weird, yet beautiful. Evie halted her struggling, captivated by his glimmering eyes. Eyes weren’t supposed to swirl. He slid a soothing hand down the side of her face.

  “Hush, my sweet. We mean you no harm.”

  Evie looked from one side to the other, her head shifting only as much as the hand clasped over her mouth would allow. For some reason, she believed him. She sensed no overt threat from these guys, merely curiosity, and maybe, hopefully, a little attraction. The other men from the bar held her, and had also dispensed with their sunglasses. The one on the right was just a little taller, with blond hair and green eyes that also shifted and wove, in glorious shades of emerald and gold. The one on her left was shorter, and slightly more muscular, with golden-streaked hair and eyes that were warm and gentle, with a variegated blend of gold and topaz.

  Evie couldn’t help staring, looking from one set of beautiful, shimmering eyes to the others. Holy crap. She must have had way too much to drink at lunch. Cold rain puddled in her low heels and ran down her neck. She was drenched. She tried to wriggle away again, only to have the arms clutch her tighter, the bodies huddle closer. And Blue Eyes stepped even closer. She was entirely surrounded by three gorgeous hunks.

  She stopped struggling.

  “Are you Evangeline Flyndaggasson?”

  Evie frowned. Well, darn. Close, but they had the wrong woman. She fought the depression the thought generated. Then she wanted to kick herself. Of course they had the wrong woman. They were three sexy men looking for a particular woman. Not her. She tried to shake her head. Blue Eyes nodded briefly to Green Eyes, who removed his hand from her mouth.

  She licked her dry lips, and swallowed as Blue Eyes tracked the movement. “Um, no. Sorry, there has been some mistake.”

  Blue Eyes frowned. “You’re not Evangeline Flyndaggasson?”

  Evie shook her head. “Close, but no. Evangeline Flint.” She’d never heard of the other tongue-twisting name.

  Blue Eyes flicked a glance to his companions, a slight frown marring his brow. “Do you know a Marabella Rodassion?”

  “Mary Roda,” Evie corrected. “She was my grandmother.”

  Blue Eyes’ frown deepened. “Your grandmother? Where is this Mary Roda now?”

  Evie tried to shift a little, and the men holding her arms relaxed their grip, but only slightly. “Uh, she died.” She cleared her throat. “Who are you guys? What do you want?”

  “When did Marabella die?”

  What did these guys want with her grandmother? She only vaguely remembered the cranky old hag herself, and nobody had ever enquired after her. “She died twenty years ago.”

  Blue Eyes muttered something in a language unfamiliar to Evie. He turned away for a moment, as though to control his reaction to the news. Had they known her grandmother? They didn’t look much older than her own twenty-seven years. Evie certainly hadn’t met them before; she would have remembered. Especially sexy Blue Eyes. He turned back to her.

  “Did she mention us to you?”

  Evie cocked an eyebrow. Her grandmother had yelled at her, had smacked her and beaten her, but had never really sat down and had a chat with her about anything other than how Evie had ruined the old woman’s life. Mary had never actually explained how, though, and Evie had never asked.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she said now, looking up at the man before her. Most men of her acquaintance were shorter than her, and Evie was well versed at minimising her height, at trying to seem smaller than she was. These guys, though, stood tall and proud, and towered over her.

  Blue Eyes’ lips twitched. “I apologise. We should have introduced ourselves. My name is Dane Lorcansson.” He gestured to the man on her right, with the incredible green eyes. “This is Taz Dorrensson.” He indicated the man on her left. “And this is Cort Magnesson. We are your betrothed.”

  Evie blinked. “My what?” she asked, trying to make sense of the words. Betrothed? Wasn’t that some sort of medieval marriage thing? The rest of his words sank in. “We?”

  The one called Taz shifted on the balls of his feet. “Dane, we must confirm, first.” He looked down the alleyway. Everybody on the street end appeared to be focused on getting wherever they had to go as quickly as possible, in order to escape the rain. Nobody seemed interested in the little meeting in the darkened alley. Yet. “We can’t be here for long; we must leave while the portal remains open.”

  “We don’t want to cause a scene,” the one introduced as Cort warned them.

  Evie darted a glance towards the main road. She was being held by three men. Yes, they were gorgeous, and yes, she should feel threatened by the wall of muscle detaining her, but it was just a little exciting. Weird, she corrected herself. Weird and disturbing. She shouldn’t want to be detained. She should want her freedom. The sooner, the better, if Dane’s expression of determination was anything to go by. She had to get out, had to get away.

  She opened her mouth to scream for help, but her cry was stifled by Taz’s large hand again. Dane stepped up to her, so that his body hid hers from the view of any casual passers-by.

  “I apologise, Consort, but we must make sure of your identity before we leave.”

  Evie’s eyes widened. Consort? Leave? Did he mean all of them? Her, as well? While the concept was interesting, and just a little arousing, the realisation that Baxter was still waiting for her, and would probably fire her for not showing up at work, hit her. She started to struggle in earnest.

  Blue Eyes nodded at both of her captors. “Hold her.”

  The arms around her tightened. Dane pressed his body against hers. She was surrounded by a wall of well-toned muscle and heat, despite the cold rivulets of rain coursing down her body, soaking her silk shirt to her like a second skin. Evie hesitated.

  Hot. Muscle. Everywhere. She was stunned at her body’s reaction. Her nipples peaked in her bra, the lace chafing the hard little nubs. Moisture pooled in her panties. Dane’s eyes bore down on hers as he levered his chest away from her, just an inch.

  He raised his hands between them, an
d rested briefly on either side of her ribcage. His hips pressed hard against hers, and she thought, a little abstractedly, that for once here were not one, but three men who were exactly the right height for her, Dane’s hips hitting hers at exactly the right angle. She moaned into the hand covering her mouth, and tried to turn it into a scream. She wasn’t just battling the men surrounding her now; she was struggling against her own body’s betrayal.

  He leaned closer, and his dark head obscured any of the meagre light filtering through the rain clouds and the alley. He raised his hands slowly, sliding them up over her breasts. Her nipples tightened even more under his touch, and she heard him hiss at the contact. She could feel his cock harden and lengthen in his jeans, and the knowledge that he felt as turned on as she did was like throwing a match onto dry tinder. She rubbed herself against the ridge, closing her eyes to the sensation. She wanted more. She wanted something to fill the aching hole in her wet pussy.

  His fingers tightened on the lapels of her silk shirt, and he tugged, ripping the wet fabric open with astonishing ease.

  Evie’s eyes sprang open, and this time she did scream.

  Chapter Three

  What the hell? She bucked against the hands that held her, bringing her legs up to try to kick Dane away from her. The hand over her mouth tightened. Dane pressed closer, a solid intrusion between her legs. Moist heat flooded her knickers.

  “Hurry, Dane,” Taz grunted. He slipped his hand from around her shoulders and down to clutch one breast in an attempt to hold her fast. The touch sent a scorching path of arousal straight to her pussy, and she moaned against the hand that muzzled her. Dane sent her an assessing look before focusing on her bra.