Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart
Page 64
Jamie had almost no energy left inside of him, but he wasn't going to just play dead either. He was not about to put these goddamned shackles on his wrists. He was going to do something, and it was worth the risk of whatever was inside of that gun.
He powered up and fired off a shot, so fast that he was positive he caught Ethan before he could fire.
Ethan's entire body went tight, as if he was in the throes of a bad cramp. His eyes widened with pain, and then he fell over, right beside Jamie.
At first Jamie could hardly believe it, and then he laughed as he stared down into Ethan's unconscious face. "That's what you get," he said, but then realized how thick and heavy his tongue felt inside of his mouth.
Jamie tried to move, tried to get the damned net off of him, but even his fingers fumbled and felt numb. He could hardly move an inch of his body, and all he wanted to do was sleep.
Jamie looked down at the tiny dart that was sticking out of his chest, right above his heart, and he wanted to laugh again, but he was already going under.
For some stupid reason, the first thing Jamie started to dream about, in the hazy way that people dreamed when they were still half awake, was the early morning after his and Ethan's second night together. It was before everything went to shit, when Jamie still got butterflies in his stomach when Ethan had kissed him. That’s what he was softly doing in dawn's light, right before Ethan escorted him to his car, and then gave him his phone number with the request that he call as often as he liked.
Jamie's eyes slid completely shut, despite his best efforts to stay awake, and all he could think about was what would happen to him if Ethan woke up first.
# # #
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About Mandy Rosko
Mandy Rosko lives as a hermit with her scared of everything dog, and she works in Ottawa, Ontario. Every once in a while she peels herself away from writing and Internet surfing to socialize with real people. She loves videogames, Sailor Moon, and her dog.
Other Paranormal Romances by Mandy Rosko
Things in the Night Series
The Vampire's Curse Book 1
The Legend of the Werewolf Book 2
The Dragon and the Wolf M/M Novella
The Shepard's Agony Book 3
Others
The Princess' Dragon Lord
Just One Touch
My Angel Lover, Have Mercy on Me M/M
Mate of the Wolf
Night and Day Book M/M Book 1
The Calm Before the Storm M/M Book 2
All Hell Breaking Loose M/M Book 3
Medieval Romances by Rizzo Rosko
Lady Thief Book 1
Lady Deception Book 2
Excerpts from Mandy Rosko Books
If you would like to read more by Mandy Rosko, she recommends The Princess' Dragon Lord. Here is a short excerpt:
The Princess' Dragon Lord
Mandy Rosko
A dragon's desire will burn for a thousand years...
Timid Diana Winters doesn't get much excitement, until she goes for a hike in the woods and is attacked by the trees.
Like out of a fairytale nightmare they uproot themselves and go on the offensive, and she is chased through the forest before tumbling down a waterfall, only to wake up in the bed of the most gorgeous man she's ever seen, who claims to be a dragon lord, and her husband who killed her a thousand years ago on their wedding day!
Lord Azoth Dracamire vows to never have meant her any harm. Someone put a potion in his goblet on the day of their marriage, and he has paid for it every day since for a thousand years.
Although Diana struggles with the physical pull she feels towards him and Azoth's obvious lust for her, one thing is certain: someone sent those monsters after her in the forest, and they still want her dead. Now she must decide if her new and conflicting emotions towards her husband, a man she doesn't know, are worth risking her life.
Excerpt
Diana awoke to the lingering, warm tingle that came from being kissed. A lot. Her lips and tongue were being caressed, the smooth glide of another tongue inside of her mouth, lovingly licking her deep, made her arch forward for more. Her breasts were being squeezed, her body caressed. The scent of arousal was in the air, thick and musky, which drove her body wild. Hotter and hotter until she could hardly stand it.
Her heart pounded like it was in a race, and her legs and arms, her whole body, trembled from the warm release of pleasure that usually came after making love. It rushed through her and bloomed in a release that made her shudder and moan.
She sank back into her pillows and sighed, catching her breath with a smile on her swollen lips. That had been the most intense sex dream she'd ever had. That had been the most intense orgasm she'd ever had. Too bad she didn't get a lot of either.
Diana released another breathy, satisfied, exhale, and then opened her eyes to look around. Her buzz left her as she took in her surroundings, and the fact that she was on a bed that wasn't hers. It didn't look like something the park had for first-aid either.
She sat up again, ignoring the twitch in her still sensitive sex as her survival instincts kicked in. Uh, where was she?
There was a roughly carved red stone wall all around her. There was no light bulb or fire anywhere that she could see, but the cave that she was in, if it could be called a cave, was as bright and dry and warm as her own living room. Minus all the rock, of course. The domed ceiling stretched high above her. Like, several stories high above her, and it didn't seem to be connected with any of the four stone walls around her.
She'd been in the park, last she could remember. Hadn't the trees just been chasing her? It seemed like a stupid thing to be pondering, but that's what they'd been doing.
She reached behind her head where she remembered bashing it in under the water. There was no bandages covering her hair, only a slight bump. No bigger than a mosquito bite. After falling fifty feet into water and rocks, that shouldn't have been possible. It wasn't possible.
"You have risen."
Diana spun, her eyes wide and heart surging into her throat so fast her head rushed from the adrenaline.
A man, in incredibly large, handsome man, stood between the uneven rock that acted as her doorway. The long curtain that was her door pushed to the side by his outstretched hand, connected to a well muscled arm, as he leaned against the stone frame. He was half naked, wearing only a pair of boots and brown leather pants that were tight on his thick, muscular thighs. That left practically nothing to her imagination as far as how his body looked.
Wide shoulders tapered down to slim hips. He had abs so deep she thought she could climb them like a ladder, and a chest so large it reminded her of a cover model on the old romance novels in the library. His muscles shined bright with a thin layer of sweat, as though he'd just come in from a jog. Long, red-brown hair that nearly matched the stone fell to his bare shoulders in crooked waves.
He. Was. Huge.
His eyes, those big eyes that were the same color as his hair, were half lidded with lust. That musky smell she'd inhaled during her dream was back, and it was making her own body react to him. Her sex swelled and her nipples tightened. A wolfish smile pulled on his full lips. They were puffed out and ever so slightly reddened in the way that happened when someone used their teeth to bite down on them. They looked like he'd been kissed, recently.
"Finally, I have been kept waiting for you, princess. It was difficult with the noise you made."
He spoke with an accent she couldn't place. So strange, but it was so familiar. She must've heard it in a movie sometime before, but she was hardly worried about that right now. Diana's dream came back to her as harshly as a slap to her face.
Her dream, the sexy dream with a sexy someone, had not only been a dream, but a recollection of something she'd done. With him. And she was still in the man's bed.
# # #
Debt Inheritance
Pepper Winters
Jethro Hawk receives Nila as an inheritance present on his twenty-ninth birthday. Her life is his until she’s paid off a debt that’s centuries old. He can do what he likes with her—nothing is out of bounds—she has to obey.
There are no rules. Only payments.
Copyright 2014 Pepper Winters
Table of Contents
Chapter 1—Jethro
Chapter 2—Nila
Chapter 3—Jethro
Chapter 4—Nila
Chapter 5—Jethro
Chapter 6—Nila
Chapter 7—Jethro
Chapter 8—Nila
Chapter 9—Jethro
Chapter 10—Nila
Chapter 11—Jethro
Chapter 12—Nila
Chapter 13—Jethro
Chapter 14—Nila
Chapter 15—Jethro
Chapter 16—Nila
About The Author
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THE WORLD WAS a dangerous place, but I was worse.
The human race left the dark ages behind—technology improved and ruined our lives in equal measure, and the devils in society hid with better camouflage.
As the years rolled by, and we left our barbaric ways behind, people forgot about the shadows lurking in plain sight. Men like me morphed into predators in sheep’s clothing. We preyed on the weak with no apology, and everything landed in our fucking laps. Civilization cloaked us, hiding the animals at heart.
We traded caveman mentality and murder for suits and softly spoken curses. I hid my true temper beneath a veil of decorum. I mastered the art of suave.
People who knew me said I was a gentleman. They called me distinguished, accomplished, and shrewd.
I was all of those things, but none of them. We might live in a civilized world, but rules and laws didn’t apply to me. I was a rule-breaker, curse-maker, life-stealer.
The projection was a farce—but even the worst of us had someone who owned us. Whether family, honour, or duty.
I’d embraced my inner barbarian, yet was governed by a hierarchy and when the Hawk matriarch snapped her fingers, we all came running.
Including my arsehole of a father, Bryan Hawk.
There, in the cigar and cognac laced library, I learned a truth that forever changed my life.
And hers.
My family owned another.
An IOU on their entire existence.
To this day, I didn’t know why, and I didn’t bother asking.
Who gave a shit why a wealthy family called the Weavers were indebted to us? Who gave a damn that they’d royally fucked off my family and earned the wrath of my ancestors?
All I cared about was the news I’d inherited something more than just money, possessions, or titles.
My twenty-ninth birthday gave me a pet. A toy.
A responsibility I didn’t want.
Debts I had to extract from unwilling flesh.
A job to uphold our family honour.
Nila Weaver.
One mistake six hundred years ago put a curse on her entire family.
One mistake sold her life to me in a mountain of unpayable debt.
I inherited her.
I preyed on her.
I owned her life and had the piece of paper to prove it.
Nila Weaver.
Mine.
And my task…
…
…
devour her.
"TOLD YOU THIS collection would be your break, Threads."
I smiled, not taking my eyes off the model prancing down the runway. My stomach churned like an overworked loom with stress and adrenaline.
"Don’t jinx it. There’s still the couture collection to go." I flinched as the model sashayed too much, wobbling in the insanely high heels I’d buckled to her feet.
My cell-phone buzzed in the only place I had available in this dress—my cleavage.
No, no. Not now.
I’d been waiting to hear from him for two days. Lying in bed in the fancy hotel, willing my phone to chime, granting me the intoxicating rush of flirtation. But nothing. Not a peep.
A month of this…what was this? It wasn’t a relationship. Liaison? Nameless courtship? I had no name for the craziness I indulged in. I panted for scraps of communication like a high-school wallflower.
It’s time to end it.
Another message vibrated, shattering my willpower to ignore him with his impeccable timing—as usual.
"You know the couture line will raise the roof. Stop being modest." Vaughn nudged my shoulder with his.
Ignoring my brother and the suddenly heavy cell-phone, I winced as the model flicked her hair pirouetting at the end of the runway, before flouncing away in a whirl of pink silk.
Too much attitude for that dress. I shook my head, stopping the inner monologue that never shut up when it came to models flaunting my creations.
"I don’t know anything anymore. Stop nettling me, V. Let me focus."
Vaughn scowled. "I don’t know why you’re so worried. Cheque books are already open. You’ll see."
Another message arrived, sending my phone into throbbing excitement. Even my phone got excited when he texted.
My heart fluttered. A hot flush covered my body remembering the last sentence I’d received from Kite007. I’d made the mistake of reading it just as I boarded the short flight from England to Spain.
Kite007: I don’t need to know what you look like to get hard—guess where my hand is.
Of course I couldn’t help myself. Because I was a sex-starved woman surrounded by over-protective men.
I replied: I don’t need to hear what you sound like to get wet—guess where my hand wants to be?
I’d never been so blatant. With anyone. The moment I sent it I freaked out, wishing I could unsend.
I’d spent the trip in a confused state of arousal and denial. And never received a reply.
Until now.
I hid my flush, pretending nothing enticing taunted me on my phone. I loved my father and brother—so damn much—but if they knew…the proverbial shit would hit the fan.
"Oh, God." I clutched my heart as another stick-thin model paraded down the catwalk, failing to show off the intricate peacock-blue dress to its advantage. "No one will buy it if they can’t see the potential of the design."
Vaughn sighed. "You worry too much. It’s stunning. Anyone can see that." His dark eyes landed on mine. "Allow a thrill of pride—just once, Threads. It’s going perfectly, and I couldn’t be prouder of you." My twin brother draped his arm over my shoulders, tucking me against him. Considering the word ‘twin’ meant mirror image, Vaughn was taller, better looking, and overall more vibrant than me. He made others envious with his natural beauty, while I made others feel beautiful with dresses sewn with twenty-four carat gold and dyed with exclusive inks costing a small fortune.
I supposed that was my talent: making others feel worthy while he sold products thanks to his allure. Mirror image alright—the direct opposite.
"You’re a model. Why aren’t you showcasing my clothes?"
Vaughn laughed. "My figure doesn’t look good squashed into some sequinned frock. Create some decent clothes for males, then I might stoop and be your headline act."
I thumped his arm. "You know I don’t have the drive to stitch suits and boxer-shorts. I keep telling you to go into business with me and create a men’s line. There’d be no stopping—"
&
nbsp; Vaughn rolled his eyes. "Can’t afford me."
I scowled. "Afford you? I’ve heard a perky pair of boobs and sex will buy your attention for at least a weekend."
He pointed at my small chest with a glint in his eye. "I see no perky pair and…gross, Nila. You’re my sister. Why the hell are we talking about sex? You know we were raised better than that."
I didn’t want to laugh. I didn’t want to lose the wound-up tension from my collection, but Vaughn never failed to earn a lip-twitch.
I sighed, shaking my head. "Sex, shmex. You’d be lucky if I hired your scrawny ass."
He smirked. "Who’re you calling scrawny?" He waved at his tall frame. "My skills are on the other end of the camera. As my track record states." His perfectly straight teeth flashed—daring anyone to deny the truth.
I used to be jealous of his deliciously good looks. My brother was rich brocade while I was boring calico. But now, I was proud. I might be graced with a body requiring embellishment by other means than fate, but I knew the secrets of illusion. I’d spun magic with a sewing machine since I was a little girl, stepping from the shadow of my family’s name, carving a small slice of greatness for myself.
"Well if the show tonight flops, at least you can bail me out with all that cash you’ve earned thanks to your god-like looks."
A laugh barrelled from his mouth, loud but still hidden by the sultry fashion show music. The dark room hid the large crowd but couldn’t disguise the heavy press and body heat of numerous buyers, shoppers, and catalogue procurers.
Vaughn squeezed me tighter. "Nila, I’m warning you. I want a smile. You’ve worked on this for months. Stop being so damn pessimistic and celebrate."
"I can’t celebrate until the last model has shown their garment and not tripped over their arse in a seven thousand dollar dress."
My phone buzzed again.
I froze, cursing my twisting stomach and the fire-bolt to my core. Kite007. The nameless teasing male who had more power over me than any other man. A stupid secret crush. With a stranger no less.
It’s a sad day when I’m emotionally invested in a fantasy. I should never have replied to the incorrectly sent message a month ago. Then I might’ve directed the small energy I had left after working so hard and find a real man. One I could kiss and flirt with in person.