by Nancy Gideon
“Get your princely (Pah)rump here on the double before I start without you. Don’t bother to pack. I’ve got everything you need. I left you some reading material. Take the sky road . . .”
The sky road?
“A helicopter?”
Turow stared at the sleek, Bell 206 Long Ranger, totally at a loss.
Cale shrugged. “I owed her. She said that’s what she wanted.”
“You bought her a helicopter?”
Steely eyes narrowed. “You don’t think my life is worth that much?”
“No, my king. I mean, yes, of course. But . . . why?”
“To cut down on the commute, I guess.”
“Commute? I’m gone not more than a minute, and everyone’s gone insane.”
Cale just smiled. “I’m sure she’ll fill you in.” He motioned to the contusion on Turow’s face and knuckles. “You want to fill me in on that?”
“Just having some fun with Rico and Colin.”
“You calling a fight fun? Things are sure changing around here. First Sylvia’s rallying the women to circle the wagons around my queen, and now you’re knuckle dusting with those lunk-heads in New Orleans.”
“She’s done what?”
“Ask her yourself.” He gave Row a push toward the chopper. “I have a feeling the fun’s just started. And if you happen to find the time, you can tell me what’s going on with our brothers.”
Turow had to admit, air was a sweet way to travel. The powerful machine shot straight up, and before he could brace himself, swooped down over the icy blue of Lake Tahoe like a fierce bird of prey. The pilot played Vivaldi through the bulky earphones, called him boss and asked if any stops were planned. He replied no, none. Because he was going to the only place he wanted to be.
During the flight, he opened the bag Sylvia had left him, pulling out a nudie magazine. He gave a puzzled frown until he opened it. All the female faces had been covered with photos of hers. Grinning, he leaned back . . . to read the articles, of course.
A brand-new landing pad in the rear parking lot of the High Roller Hotel and Casino was marked off with lights against the rising darkness. A dapperly dressed and grinning Bart met him.
“No luggage?”
“Traveling light.”
Bart grinned wider, waving him into a golf cart as if it was a limo, ferrying him across the lot while chatting about all the positive changes the “Mrs.” had been making. Really classing up the joint, is how he described it. A real head for business, he vowed.
“An independent woman” is what Turow heard.
An uncomfortable feeling wedged in his throat. Pride in her accomplishments warred with a hint of something less noble.
The area by the elevators that he’d painted with various bodily fluids had been done over in sleek stone and copper that caught the glitter from the casino beyond. Bart used one of two keys to unlock the top floor then passed it to Turow with a wink.
“The key to everything a man could want.”
Row didn’t doubt it.
“Have a good evening, Mr. Terriot. If you need anything, a toothbrush, whatever, ring down to the desk.”
“Thank you, Bart. But I think I have everything.”
With another toothy grin, Bart pushed the button for the top floor and stepped back.
After a quiet ride, the door opened to a space more entertainment area than business reception with its floor-to-ceiling fireplace, bar, and cozy conversation areas. He headed for the large double doors he remembered as cordoning off James’s rooms. He couldn’t imagine Sylvia ever wanting to stay here. Until he crossed into an entirely different living space.
Gone were the chic bachelor tones and impersonal dynamics. Everything was new, from slate floors to deep jewel-toned furnishings, pleasing modern art and rich wood, providing an immediate welcome.
So, where was his heart’s desire?
The large room was empty yet filled with her presence. The room that had been James’s office had been converted to an open concept kitchen and dining area on the other side of a see-through fireplace that crackled invitingly. He could envision lounging in front of it with a cold drink and a hot armful on any or every evening.
The simple mantle held three pictures. Wes and Sylvia as children, his grandmother’s disapproving portrait, and a picture of his mother with wind whipping through her hair as she laughed in joyful abandon. He had no idea where Sylvia had found that.
He drew an achy breath.
“Row? Out here!”
The call came from the partially-opened bedroom door. That room he was particularly glad to find remodeled with dark wood, lots of fleecy wool and accents in icy blue. The color of his eyes. He tore his gaze from the huge freestanding bed to an even more inviting sight.
Rocking, bluesy music played—The Rolling Stones’ cover of Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away,” its lyrics boasting that “You’re going to give your love to me” was how it was going to be. He followed the sound to double doors opening onto a large private balcony that overlooked the hilly vineyard. It held a steaming hot-tub, its soft interior lights caressing the tousled head and bare shoulders of his mate. That one graceful slope wore the mark of their bond.
“Nice music.”
“Nice message.” Sylvia turned toward him, her eager smile dropping in concern. “What the hell happened to you?”
He stepped out of his shoes and socks and let his jacket fall at his heels. “Following your orders to give Colin a kiss, with tongue.”
She chuckled. The sound tickled like champagne.
“I’ve been working and playing hard. And so,” he added, “I see, have you. Since when do we have a private air shuttle service?”
“Since I want you here with me as soon as I can possibly get you.” She patted the sleek edge of the tub. “And I want you in here with me as soon as I can possibly get you. Like right now.”
That invitation held his questions at bay long enough for him to strip out of his clothes and climb into the percolating water. Long enough for his hands to find her trim waist and his mouth to claim hers.
After an oxygen-depleting kiss, she rubbed her flushed cheek against his, sighing contentedly.
“It feels like you’ve been gone for months. I’ve missed you every minute.”
“You’ve probably been too busy to even remember me.” He smiled to offset the tug of . . . what? Irritation? No. More than that. Darker than that. It was fear, curling low and buzzing dangerously, like a timber rattler in the coil. “What’s all this?”
“What does it look like?” Her hands slipped beneath the frothy water, trailing down his taunt middle in search of the massive proof that he was happy to see her, too. But his cautious answer was just shy of promising.
“It looks like you’ve made up your mind about what you want,” he answered carefully, trying not to weight his words with blame. “And it’s not to live with me as part of my family. Is that how you want it to be?”
She laughed as if he’d said the most ridiculous thing ever. “I’ve done this for you, for us. You’re the one who wanted everything to be about family.” She stepped her knees up onto the molded seat to straddle his thighs, one arm circling his shoulders while her other hand continued to appreciate his far from waning interest, despite his uncertainty over their situation. “Look out there. What do you see?”
“Grapes?”
“Fertile soil. Crops. Growing in the best climate imaginable. When I harvest them, James and his friends in the north will have no power over our people.”
It hit him like a solid punch. “You found the cure.”
“I did.” She slid her breasts against him and began a subtle rocking. “And it’s taking root right out there. This is what I can do for our family. This is what I can contribute. Once things are progressing here, I can be with you at home. Until then we’re just a quick hop away from each other. You spend what time you can here with me, and I’ll come to you whenever possible. Care of Cale’s gratitude. We can make this w
ork, Row. Please say you believe we can.”
“I’ll believe anything’s possible when you’re bouncing around on me like that.” He sucked a quick breath as she eased down over him like a made-to-order glove, and let it out in a jerky sigh. “Don’t move. Just stay right there forever.”
“That’s a yes?”
“Didn’t I promise that the best is yet to come?”
Their kiss was slow and deep and filled with dreams.
Then she began to move against him like an unstoppable tide. Making good on that promise . . . with interest.
A Sneak Peek from
PRINCE OF POWER
“House of Terriot” Book 2
A ring.
A gift to Abel Conroy from their king, the wide band of polished steel never left his step-father’s finger. It was his most prized possession, a symbol of prestige and loyalty.
Colin Terriot didn’t understand. Why did it lie, tarnished and scorched, in his palm?
Her sudden slap nearly knocked him to his knees. Not because the blow was strong, but because he’d never in his fourteen years felt the brunt of a hand raised in anger by someone he loved. The son of a king, raised in the shadow their clan’s fiercest warrior, no one would dare. Surprise left him defenseless.
“Where were you?” Fury throbbed in his mother’s voice. “Where were you when they were dying?”
He looked up, shocked, teary-eyed, his throat too tight for speech. They’d died? His step-father? His half-brothers? The knowledge crushed him, too huge to absorb for the moment. Then a crystal clear understanding settled in deep and cold.
His protector was dead and his king indifferent. Colin knew everything in his world had changed as he put his palm to the fiery mark on his face.
“W-what happened?” he managed to stammer, struggling not to shrink beneath the rage of the female who’d given him life but little else since then.
Patrice Terriot Conroy turned away as if he was a sight too repellent to endure. “An ambush by those Guedry monsters. They were outnumbered, slaughtered. My mate, my sons, all of them.” She went still, breath heaving from her in a crazed mix of grief and wrath. Then slowly she circled back to him as the cause of her pain. “Where were you when they needed you? If you’d been there, they would still be alive!”
“Or I’d be dead, too.”
He spoke unwisely from a logical well of truth, knowing she wouldn’t be wailing and gnashing over his body if he’d been slain.
When she took another harsh breath, he tensed, prepared this time for the backlash of her temper. But instead of striking him with blows, she chose to wound and whittle away at him with words. And as always, they carved like sharpened blades.
“No. Your glorious king would have never allowed one of his precious Twelve to go into such a dangerous situation without the power his throne to protect them. You he never would have sacrificed if risk was involved.”
Colin writhed inside then tried to explain, not that it would make any difference now. “I asked to go. I wanted to go with them. Father wouldn’t let me. He told me they could handle it, that it was nothing I should bother our king about. I shouldn’t have listened. I should have been with my family.”
“He was not your father! They weren’t your family. Go live with Bram the Beast and his many spawns. They’re your family now. Go! Get out of my sight!”
She gave him a hard push. He stumbled back, blinded by unbearable loss and dismay. “But Momma, this is my home.”
She cut right to his soul with hatred too bitter not to be true. “I was forced to bear you, to raise you, but now no one can force me to have you under my roof another day. My sons are dead and you can’t replace them!”
He fled from those brutal facts, leaving everything that had meaning to him behind, not looking back, knowing he’d never return. Losing all in that moment excerpt the heritage she despised.
He was a prince in the House of Terriot.
It wasn’t until he sat on the crisply made bed in his new quarters within the dormitory for unmated Shifter males that he opened his clenched fist to discover the ring had cut a bloody circle into his palm.
The same way his mother had driven a hole through his heart.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nancy Gideon is the award-winning, bestselling author of 60 romances ranging from historical, regency and series contemporary suspense to paranormal, with a couple of horror screenplays tossed into the mix. She’s also published under the pen names Dana Ransom, Rosalyn West and Lauren Giddings. She works full time as a legal assistant in Central Michigan, and when not at the keyboard, feeds a Netflix addiction along with all things fur, fin and fowl. For more information on the author, her books, or the “House of Terriot” and “By Moonlight” series, visit Nancy online at:
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OTHER BOOKS BY NANCY GIDEON
Books in the “House of Terriot”
Prince of Honor
(Turow and Sylvia)
Prince of Power
(Colin and Mia)
Prince of Fools
(Rico and Amber)
Prince of Dreams
(Kip and Ophelia)
Books in the “By Moonlight” Series
Masked by Moonlight
Chased by Moonlight
Captured by Moonlight
Bound by Moonlight
(Max and Charlotte)
Hunter of Shadows
(Silas and Nica)
Seeker of Shadows
(Jacques and Susanna)
Betrayed by Shadows
(Giles and Brigit)
Prince of Shadows
(Cale and Kendra)
Remembered by Moonlight
(Max and Charlotte)
Unleashed by Shadows
(Cale and Kendra)
“Complex characters, vivid writing and intriguing plot twists keep readers coming back.”
-Publisher’s Weekly