Jethro nodded, jostling our bodies. His fingers unglued from around my mouth and he grabbed my wrist. Every part of me shrank from his overbearing body, throbbing temper, and granite golden eyes, but I forced myself to stand tall.
I growled, "Whatever you do won’t matter. What happened before will never happen again." I would never let my body rule my mind no matter what he did. "You may be able to hurt me but you should know how pathetic it is for a man to hurt a woman. That isn’t power. It’s a weakness!"
He grunted under his breath. "Motherfucking Christ." His temper increased until the large room pulsed with it.
Another wave of vertigo grabbed my brain. But I managed the impossible, fighting through the grey unsteady wave—staying on my feet. I did it.
I fought the imbalance thanks to letting myself unlock so many facets of who I truly was. I stood proud and naked, wearing only dried saliva and bruises.
Jethro jerked me closer, scowling into my eyes. He swallowed his anger until nothing outward showed—no annoyance or amazement—he was as opaque as a black iceberg and just as sharp.
"If you will, Ms. Weaver." Suddenly he let me go, waving toward the double doors behind me. They opened wide as if staff waited on the other side for his command.
When I didn’t move, he snapped, "Now."
My arms wanted to wind around my body. I wanted to hide from his intense gaze, but I fought every instinct, every urge, and elegantly pirouetted on my toes. I left the room as demurely and proudly as possible. Without a backward glance.
The moment the doors slammed behind us, Jethro grabbed my elbow, prowling forward as if the flames of hell craved his soul. I went from walking to jogging to keep up with his pace.
My vision lost its clarity for a moment, fading in and out as another wash of unbalance tried to steal me, but Jethro didn’t give me time to give in. He didn’t give me time to care that he dragged me down a corridor so wide it could’ve been a hall. He didn’t let me inspect the countless weapons—swords, bayonets, crossbows, and knives—or catch the eye of surprised staff.
I breathed hard when we finally crashed through one of the many exterior doors and were welcomed from brooding red corridor to bright early-autumn sun.
Jethro kept walking, not letting me catch my breath.
Dragging me down the four huge steps, I winced as the gravel bit into the soles of my feet. But he didn’t care. He didn’t even notice.
Our feet kicked up pebbles as he headed toward the treeline several metres from the house. I’d never seen this side of the property before. But the grounds were just as expansive and impressive as the other perimeters and just as dangerous.
This was my cage. Leaves and thorns and brambles.
And I’m naked.
The moment gravel was replaced by soft grass below my toes, Jethro tossed me away. I would’ve fallen if I wasn’t malleable and given up fighting his momentum. I stumbled forward, arms soaring outward as if I could suddenly leave the world behind and fly. Fly away. Fly free.
The moment I came to a halt, I spun to face him.
Jethro was right behind me. He fisted my hair, twisting my neck.
I whimpered as he raised my head, higher and higher. My eyes coasted over his crocodile belt, crisp grey shirt, and locked onto a pair of ferocious eyes.
"Tell me. What did you hope to achieve in there?"
He didn’t give me a chance to reply, tugging my hair in a painful jerk. "Did you honestly think before you opened your mouth? If you had stood there and been silent, it would’ve all been over. You earned an afternoon on your own in a hot steam bath. A maid to bring you whatever you wanted to eat." He shook me. "What part of a gift for good behaviour did you not understand?"
"I don’t want your charity," I spat.
He groaned. "It’s not fucking charity if you’ve earned it." Lowering his head, his nose pressed against mine.
I froze, breathing hard.
"You earned it today. You pleased me by letting those men sample you. You surprised me in a good way." The softness of his voice disappeared under a torrent of rage. "But then you fucked it all up by being you. And now…" He trailed off, ideas glowing in his eyes.
Letting me go, I backed away from him, grabbing my hair and quickly twisting it into a loose braid down my back. I hated the thickness, the length. It seemed to invite Jethro to use it anyway he pleased. My scalp had never been so bruised.
The diamond collar sent little rainbows of light bouncing from the sunlight. I would’ve laughed if I wasn’t so tense. I was naked but wearing rainbows—I never would’ve thought to combine magic with fashion.
Ideas for a new design line came thick and fast. I craved a pencil to sketch before they disappeared.
Jethro placed both hands on his hips, watching me silently.
I didn’t move. I didn’t say a word. The fragile ceasefire between us stretched uncomfortably thin. It would either snap and ricochet onto me with terrible pain or fade away like a feather on a breeze.
"I see threats don’t work on you. But perhaps a negotiation might."
Despite myself, curiosity and hope swelled in my heart. "A negotiation?"
"A one shot offer. You win, you’re free. I win, you forget about your old life and give in. You say I’ll never own you. If I win—you willingly give me that right." His lips pulled into a cold smile. "You sign not only the debt agreement but another—one that makes me your master until your last breath is taken. You do that, and I’ll give you this."
"Give me what?" I asked breathlessly.
"A chance at freedom."
My eyes popped wide.
What?
Cocking his head at the forest behind me, he murmured, "You wanted to be free—so go. Run. Go seek your freedom."
I twisted on the spot, looking over my shoulder. The sun dappled patches of leaf-strewn ground, looking like a fairy glen, but then it grew darker and thicker and scarier.
The diamond collar rested heavy and ruinously ominous on my throat. My spine ached from the short time I’d been made to wear it; the coldness still hadn’t adapted to my skin. How could I run with such a deterrent?
How can you not?
It was the one chance I’d hoped for. The one chance I didn’t think I’d get.
Squeezing my eyes, I let Jethro's ultimatum—his negotiation—seep into my brain. If I ran, I might make it. If I ran, I might get what I wanted. But if I lost…
Turning to face him again, the golden-light from the sun cast him with ghostly silhouette, blurring his outline, creating more than just a man. He looked as if he had one foot in this world and one in hell. A fallen angel who still burned with fire—yet it wasn’t purity he burned with but hate.
Jethro raised an eyebrow. "What’s it going to be?"
"I don’t know what you’re offering."
"Yes you do."
I did. I do.
Taking a small step toward me, he said, "You want to break the contract? You want to keep your brother and father safe? Fine. I’m giving you a one-time deal. Run. If you make it to the boundary, you’re free. Your family will never be hunted by the Hawks again. You make it, and this is all over. Every last debt and ounce of history—disappears." His voice licked through the sunshine.
A small sparkle from my earlier orgasm rippled between my legs. "And if I don’t?"
Jethro frowned. "Pardon?"
"If I don’t run…what happens then?"
"You wouldn’t run? After I just offered you what you’ve wanted all along?"
I crossed my wrists over the junction of my thighs, hiding my pussy. "I didn’t say I wanted the chance to run naked through a thousand hectares. I said I wanted this to be over."
Jethro smirked. "It’s not over until it’s over." His eyes fell to my collar, glinting with darkness. "And we both know how it will be over."
Moving closer, he said quietly, "There is no other option here, Ms. Weaver. I’m not giving you the choice to run. I’m telling you to run. You wanted i
t. You got it. One chance to save your family as well as your own life. One chance. You do not want to fuck it up by testing my patience."
My mind stumbled with everything that’d happened. There was no denying chemistry flew between us—but Jethro didn’t respond. He was only interested in the chase. The hunt. The sport.
He stood so close, every time he breathed, his chest almost touched my naked nipples. He didn’t seem to care I was naked or offer clothing for this one and only chance I had at freedom. He would make me run unprotected through a forest full of brambles, predators, and trip-worthy roots.
His arm raised and I clamped every muscle from cringing as he cupped my cheek. His heady scent of woods and leather settled over me. Tracing the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, he bowed his head. "Run, Ms. Weaver. Run. But one thing you should know before you go."
Do not play his games. Do not rise to the bait.
My lips stayed pinched together. I stiffened in his hold.
His mouth tickled the soft skin below my ear. "While you’re running, I’ll be hunting. You not only have to get to the boundary but you have to do it before I catch you."
The tingle and horrible promise of hope evaporated. Cruel. Vicious. Evil.
I’m to be hunted.
There wouldn’t be freedom. There would only be blood. Just like he said in the dining room.
Energy left my limbs. Who was I kidding? I hadn’t eaten since I was stolen. I’d barely had a decent sleep. I existed like a junkie on adrenaline and fear. It was no combination for a long distance run through thickets and bush.
Jethro pulled away, dropping his hands. He smiled. "Your head start begins now, Ms. Weaver. I’d leave if I were you."
Now?
I backpeddled, heart bursting with terror. "How—how long do I have?"
Jethro carefully raised his cuff, looking sedately at the diamond and black watch on his wrist. "I’m a seasoned hunter. I have no doubt I’ll find you. And when I do…what those men did to you will be nothing." Cocking his head, he said, "I think forty-five minutes is rather sporting, don’t you?"
My mind was no longer there. It was leaping and flying over leaves and dodging ancient trunks. Run. Go. Run.
"Make it and you’re no longer mine…."
Freedom taunted me, making me believe I had a chance. A slim, barely non-existent chance—but still a chance. The muscles in my legs reacted, already poised to take off. I had to trust my body. It knew how to flee.
I could make it. If I did, I would no longer be his pet to torture. But if I didn’t….
Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
"And if I don’t?"
Jethro lowered his head, glaring at me beneath his brow. His eyes were tight and dark, glinting with excitement at the upcoming hunt. "Don’t and the debt I’ll make you repay will make you wish you had made it to the boundary." He stepped from the sun’s glare, his teeth sparkling like diamonds. "Now…run."
…
…
I ran.
# # #
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About Pepper Winters
Pepper Winters is a NYT and USA Today International Bestseller. She wears many roles. Some of them include writer, reader, sometimes wife. She loves dark, taboo stories that twist with your head. The more tortured the hero, the better, and she constantly thinks up ways to break and fix her characters. Oh, and sex... her books have sex.
She loves to travel and has an amazing, fabulous hubby who puts up with her love affair with her book boyfriends. She's also honoured to wear the IndieReader Badge for being a Top 10 Indie Bestsellers, best BDSM series voted by the SmutClub, and recently signed a two book deal with Grand Central. Her books are currently being translated into numerous languages and will be in bookstores in the near future.
Other Books by Pepper Winters
Her Dark Romance books include:
Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)
Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)
Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)
Debt Inheritance (Indebted #1)
Her Grey Romance books include:
Destroyed
Upcoming releases are:
First Debt (Indebted Series #2)
Ruin & Rule (Pure Corruption MC)
Je Suis a Toi (Monsters in the Dark Novella)
Trespass & Triumph (Pure Corruption MC Prequel)
Upcoming Sequel to Debt Inheritance
FIRST DEBT, the sequel to DEBT INHERITANCE, will be released in late 2014. Here is a brief description...
First Debt (Indebted #2)
Pepper Winters
"You say I’ll never own you. If I win—you willingly give me that right. You sign not only the debt agreement, but another—one that makes me your master until your last breath is taken. You do that, and I’ll give you this."
Nila Weaver’s family is indebted. Stolen, taken, and bound not by monsters but by an agreement written over six hundred years ago, she has no way out.
She belongs to Jethro as much as she denies it.
Jethro Hawk’s patience is running out. His inheritance gift tests, challenges, and surprises him—and not in good ways. He hasn’t leashed her but he thinks he might’ve found a way to bind her forever.
Debts are mounting. Payment waiting.
# # #
Choosing Riley
S.E. Smith
Things take a turn for the worse when Riley St. Claire is kidnapped by aliens and forced to choose a mate. The problem is, it would have been better, and safer, for the aliens if they had left Riley back on Earth.
Copyright 2014 S. E. Smith
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
About The Author
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Chapter 1
"Choose," the disembodied voice said.
Choose? Choose what? Riley thought, looking around her in disbelief at the rock walls. Choose to get the fuck out of this crazy nightmare? Hell, yeah. Choose to kill the bastards who put me in this miserable spot? Oh, hell yeah. Choose…
Riley jerked when she felt the ice-cold claw poke her in the back for the third time. Looking around, she followed the arm of the creature standing next to her as it pointed down over the edge of a small platform. She really was trying for that nice stage of being totally zoned out, but the damn creatures who kidnapped her twenty days before had an annoying habit of bringing her back to the unfortunate situation she was in.
"Choose," the nearly eight-foot-tall stick figure said again, this time losing some of the disembodied tone.
Riley couldn’t help the li
ttle smirk that lifted the corner of her mouth. She really couldn’t. After the first week of captivity, she had moved from being mind-numbingly terrified to just downright pissed off at life. She figured if she was going to die, she might as well do what she did best: piss everyone off around her. That was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place—her big mouth and smart-ass attitude.
Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have pissed off her boss by telling him what he could do with his wandering hands when he grabbed her ass for the third time that day. Better yet, she shouldn’t have broken his nose, his hand, and more than likely his nuts since he had been screaming more than an octave or two higher than a soprano. Yeah, that probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Especially since his daddy happened to be the local sheriff. She was a bail bondsman, for heaven’s sake. Any freaking idiot should have known better than to mess with her. Her line of work required she know a certain amount of self-defense.
God, she thought. I really should have never taken that job.
When her boss swore she would never leave town alive after she beat the shit out of him, she figured it was time to get the hell out of Righteous, New Mexico. Of course, the fact her boss owned the local bail bond company and had a somewhat lucrative business going with his daddy should have been her first warning that something wasn’t right, she’d thought as she grabbed her purse and a large manila folder full of incriminating evidence against both of them. Finding out that daddy and junior were also running illegal weapons and drugs were definitely her second and third warnings. Of course, the little tidbit of information she had found that morning about the dead guy buried under the storage unit had been the real reason she figured she had made a bad mistake. That information was now safely tucked into the manila folder stuffed in her purse, and it had gone along with her as she left the small town she had been living in for the past six months as fast as her old Ford could drive.
She actually might have had a chance to live a little longer if a series of life’s usual little hiccups hadn’t been blessed upon her. Again. Of course, if the car had been further than one push to the nearest junkyard it would have helped her great nonexistent getaway plans. It would have been better yet if the damn car hadn’t broken down just over the state line on the outskirts of the desert. She knew she should have purchased a new one last month, but she was such a tightwad she wanted to get every last mile out of it. And boy, did she!
Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart Page 83