Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males)

by Hawkeye, Lauren

  “I hardly did this for nothing,” Nolan said to Kyler with a sneer. “She has a pussy worth taking. Yeah. Honey sweet.”

  With an ominous whine, her husband pushed to his feet, and Beth whimpered. Don’t hurt Nolan. She turned to Z over at the knotted chain. “Help him,” she whispered. “Please.”

  Z’s silvery gaze met hers. He shook his head.

  He wouldn’t help? What was wrong with him? She tried to yank free, and pain seared her wrists.

  “You touched her.” Kyler’s mouth twisted. “She’s mine. My wife.”

  “Hell, she doesn’t want to be married to a wussy like you. She wants a man.”

  Beth screamed as Kyler launched himself across the room. At the last minute, Sir stepped out of the way, and Kyler staggered to a stop almost at the far right wall.

  “You know how good she sucks cock?” Nolan chuckled, and Beth stared at him in shock. Was he insane?

  Kyler attacked again and hit Nolan in the face.

  Sir grinned. “One more please.” And took another fist against his cheek. He shook his head like a bull shaking off flies, before hitting Kyler, forcing him back a step. Kyler groaned and attacked again. Blocking a fist, Nolan punched Kyler in the ribs where he’d hit him before.

  With a howl of agony, Kyler folded over. Beth saw Nolan inhale, his muscles bunching, and then he hit her husband squarely in the jaw so brutally that Kyler flew backward. The back of his head slammed into the wood stove with a gut-wrenching crack, and he dropped onto the brick hearth.

  Beth heard a roaring in her ears as she stared at the man lying on the floor.

  When Nolan bent over him, then turned away, she tried to warn him that Kyler would jump up and hurt him...to watch out, only she couldn’t seem to find any air.

  The chain holding her jerked, and she moaned and tried to muffle the sound. Don’t wake him up; he’s just sleeping. Nolan came across the room to her, and she shook her head at him. No, watch Kyler. Watch him. Only Sir wasn’t listening.

  As Z lowered her, Nolan held her steady and then lifted her into his arms. His arm hurt her back, and it didn’t really matter. She turned her head to watch Kyler. He would hurt Sir. She had to keep him from hurting Sir.

  “Beth.” Master’s deep voice. “Look at me.” He turned so she couldn’t see Kyler.

  She raised her head and met eyes so black and fierce, she cringed.

  “Easy, sugar. It’ll be all right. The ambulance is almost here.”

  She realized she was whimpering. Sir held her closer, his hard grip reassuring. This wasn’t a dream; he really was here. And she tried to tell him how she felt since he always wanted to know, but once she started, she couldn’t stop whispering one thing, over and over, “You came... You came... You came...”

  He shook his head at her. “Shhh.” He tucked her head against his chest and with Z’s help shifted her so his arm didn’t rub the open areas on her back. Z searched the cabin for the handcuff key.

  Had Kyler gotten up? She tried to look over Nolan’s shoulder, to watch for him. An ambulance appeared outside the broken door. Maybe they’d take her husband away, and Nolan would be safe.

  Z appeared in front of her. “Hold on, little one. Let me get these off.” He unlocked the cuffs, carefully easing the metal out of her mangled flesh and swearing in a voice she’d never heard before.

  When one place hurt too much and she whimpered, Nolan growled low and deep. He scowled at Z. “I want to kill him again.”

  “Get in line.”

  * * * * *

  The world was a muddled place, filled with pain. Sirens. Men’s voices. The sharp smell of antiseptic. Rocking and bouncing that made everything hurt. Humid air. More pain.

  When Beth finally managed to open her eyes, she was surrounded by white curtains. A familiar sight. She was in an emergency room. Left with strangers. She let herself fall back into darkness.

  She roused again at the sound of a low, commanding voice, one that washed the loneliness away.

  A woman’s voice raised in frustration. “I’m sorry, sir, but family only.”

  “I am family.” Sir’s voice came closer. “Beth, which cubby are you in?”

  “Um.” Did they have numbers for white-curtained rooms? “Here. Wherever that is.”

  “But—” the woman sputtered. “Oh, fine. Obviously she wants you with her.”

  A scarred hand pulled back the curtain, and Nolan entered, taking up all the extra room. His gaze took in the blood pressure monitor on her arm, the IV bag dripping fluids into her. “All the essential equipment, I see.”

  She’d felt all alone and helpless, remembering how the paramedics had looked at her with pity. An abused woman covered with scars. No one saw her.

  Until now. Sir leaned over the hospital gurney and looked into her eyes. “You want company, sugar?”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she could only nod.

  “Good answer. You saved yourself a fight.” He leaned an arm on the side rail and picked up her hand, engulfing it within his long fingers. “Did they give you anything for pain?”

  “I told them no.”

  His brows drew together. “And why would that be? You’re hurting.”

  “I... Kyler gave me something to knock me out. And pain medicine makes me fuzzy. I don’t... I can’t handle not being alert right now.”

  He nodded. “Good enough.”

  A doctor came through the curtains, a lean gray-haired man with sharp blue eyes, stethoscope around his neck, flipping through pages on a clipboard. “Mrs. Stanton?”

  She cringed at the sound of that horrible name, and Nolan’s grip tightened. She took a breath. “Yes.”

  He ran through the standard medical questions, ones she was all too familiar with from her frequent emergency room visits. If she’d been too badly hurt for Kyler to fix, he’d take her to the ER, different ones each time to prevent questions. When her scarring got too obvious, one doctor suspected abuse and tried to get her to a shelter. Kyler had pulled strings—his family knew everyone—and she’d not only been released to Kyler, but she’d been punished for arousing the doctor’s concern.

  “All right then, let’s see the damage,” the doctor said now. He helped her sit up, opened her gown, and started peeling off the gauze dressings the medics had applied. She concentrated on staring at Nolan’s hand covering hers. He had a scar there on the knuckle and another on...

  The doctor made a sound. Beth looked up. His lips were pressed so thin, they were white. “Who did this to you?”

  “My husband,” she said.

  The doctor’s gaze settled on Nolan. “You?”

  “No. Her husband’s dead.”

  The doctor looked at the bloody gauze in his gloved hands. “Sure he is. How long’s he been dead?”

  The curtain whipped back. “About an hour.” A heavy man in a dark suit walked to the foot of the bed and flashed a police badge. “That about right, Mrs. Stanton?”

  “I...” How long had she been out? “I don’t know,” she said, feeling helpless.

  “You want to tell me about your day?” He pulled a notepad from his pocket.

  “You want to wait until I sew her up?” the doctor snapped.

  “Actually, I’d like to see the damage before you do that,” the cop said. “The guy at the cabin”—he glanced at his notes—“Zachary Grayson said the husband whipped her. Now that seems a little—”

  The doctor not only stepped back but shoved the cop into his place where he could see her back. “Ah”—the cop cleared his throat—“hell. He sliced you up good, didn’t he?”

  “Breathe, sugar,” Nolan rumbled, his watchful eyes on her.

  She sucked in a breath.

  “While you’re here,” Sir ordered the cop, “look at the older scars too. She ran from him a year ago. He found her again this morning.”

  “Ma’am, I’m sorry,” the cop muttered. “I saw the chains and handcuffs, and I figured some kinky games, not... Jesus, I’ve never seen a
nything like this.” He stepped away from the bed, his ruddy face almost pale. He looked at her. “Anything else besides the whip marks?”

  She swallowed. Why did she feel humiliated when it had been done to her? “There—”

  “Scars around her wrists.” Nolan held up her hand where a bloody gauze dressing circled her wrist. “Those scars are pretty well wiped out by this new damage. Cigarette burns on her left breast, some knife scars on her bottom, old broken right leg, puncture wounds on her hands, and broken fingers.” He rubbed her fingers where shiny white spots marred her tan. “The doc here can probably document all that for you when he examines her.”

  The cop’s face had gone rigid during the recital, but his eyes softened when he looked at her. “How many times did you try to get away?”

  “Just once before last year.” She stared down at her hands. “That was when he smashed my fingers.”

  The doctor sucked in a breath but didn’t speak.

  A muscle twitched in the cop’s cheek as he looked down at his notepad. After a second, he asked, “So today, you have a cut-up back. Anything else?”

  Nolan spoke for her again. “From today, she also has a slice across her stomach from a knife. That’s when Z—Zachary—and I got there and stopped him. I broke the door down. He had a gun, tried to shoot me, and although chained, she managed to kick him from behind.” Nolan gave her such an approving look that she warmed all the way through. “The bullet went into the floor. We fought.” He touched his cheek and chin from where Kyler had hit him. “I hit him, and he fell back against the wood stove.”

  “How do you know Mrs. Stanton here?”

  “She does yard service for Zachary. I was going to hire her for my place and ended up dating her instead.” He kissed her palm then gave her a merciless look. “But you’re still going to have to landscape the place, sugar.”

  She actually managed to smile at him and touch his warm cheek, although her fingers trembled. “I think I owe you that now.”

  “Looks like a pretty clear case of self-defense,” the cop said. “Give me your name and address and all that.”

  Nolan took out his wallet and fished out a card.

  The cop glanced at it. “King Construction? You built the office complex down the street from our station.”

  Nolan nodded.

  The cop studied Nolan for a minute. “You’re military too, aren’t you? Like your buddy, Zachary. A vet?”

  Nolan nodded again.

  “No wonder. Nice work,” the cop said. “And you didn’t hear me say that. I’ll be in contact if I have more questions.” He walked out, shaking his head.

  “Questions. They always have questions, always need more evidence.” The doctor scowled and raised his voice. “Marilee, bring me the camera.”

  The nurse popped in a second later.

  “Stay here as a witness, Marilee,” he said. “Let’s go ahead and document this clearly, just in case there’s any question down the road.” The doctor’s face was grim. He snapped pictures of Beth’s back, then taped up the whip marks and sewed up the ones too deep to butterfly or glue shut. More pictures on her front, and he sewed up the slice across her stomach. His exam was thorough, and he took a picture of every scar, from her hands down to her leg.

  Through it all, Nolan sat quietly, holding her hand, and murmuring when something hurt.

  As the doctor wrapped her wrists with gauze, Master Z walked into the cubicle.

  “What is this, Grand Central Station?” the doctor snapped. “Who the hell are you?”

  Beth actually giggled. “It’s all right. He’s the other one who saved me.”

  “Well, fine then,” the doctor grumbled. He shook hands with Z, then grinned and looked from him to Nolan. “Good job, guys, and I don’t care who hears me say it.”

  Nolan barked a laugh.

  “Now then, I’m releasing you. Come back here or see your doctor if there’s any sign of infection. I’ll give you a prescription for pain—”

  “I don’t want one,” she interrupted. “I won’t take them.”

  “Ah. All right.” He rubbed his chin. “Tylenol or ibuprofen. Avoid aspirin for a couple of days. The nurse will be in to get you unhooked from the IV and give you instructions about the stitches.”

  Shooed out by the nurse, the men waited in the parking lot for her. When the nurse wheeled her out, they helped her into Nolan’s truck.

  “Are you all right, little one?” Z asked as he took the seat belt from her and fastened it.

  Her friend count had been a little low, she thought, but seemed to be rising rapidly. She smiled at him. “I’m very much all right. I feel like I’ve been caught in a blackberry tangle, and someone just cut me free.” Her eyes filled with tears as she whispered, “Thank you so much.”

  He actually grinned. “No problem, although Nolan had all the fun. Now go home and work on healing.” He rubbed his knuckles over her cheek. “You can expect to see Jessica soon.”

  As the truck started, he glanced at Nolan. “Are you taking her to her apartment or—”

  “She’ll be at my house,” Nolan said flatly.

  “Excellent.” Z nodded and closed her door.

  “Nolan...” Beth started. He shouldn’t have to take care of her. “I can go to my—”

  “Don’t bother to argue. We’re both going to have nightmares. You will be in my bed and in my arms when that happens.”

  Nightmares. He was going to have nightmares? Oh, God, he’d killed a man for her. She took his hand. “You killed him. I’m sorry, so, so sorry.”

  He looked at her blankly before snorting. “I don’t have nightmares from killing cockroaches, sugar. But knowing he had you...hearing you scream...seeing you all bloody? Now that’s going to bother me for a long time. And you’re going to have to stay with me till it doesn’t.”

  “All right.” She couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be. It seemed wrong to hope he’d have nightmares for at least three or four days, but—

  He put the truck into gear. “I figure in a year or two, I might be okay.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Standing in his kitchen, Nolan stared at the little sub and managed to keep the growl out of his voice. “You’re what?”

  “I’m moving back into my apartment.” Beth took a step back, then crossed her arms and raised her chin.

  The signs that she was getting back to normal pleased him, but she sure as hell didn’t have to go this far to prove she was feeling better. It had only been a couple of weeks. Reasonable. Be reasonable. “Why the hell would you want to go back there?” He winced at the snap in his voice.

  She bit her lip, then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

  He held her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, remembering how she’d hugged Cullen. Did he look that bad? “Okay, sugar, tell me why.”

  Her arms tightened. “I need to know that I can live on my own. I-I love being here with you, and I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

  “Gutsy rabbit.” He could understand the need. He’d grown up in a family that firmly believed in the “face your fears” technique. But how did a man deal with the need to stand in front of a little rabbit and protect her from those fears?

  “Not all that gutsy. It’s just, well, if I stay with you because I’m scared to be alone, well...that isn’t much of a relationship.”

  She had a point. He wanted to ask her what kind of a relationship she thought they had, but didn’t. After meeting her sick fuck of a husband, he wasn’t about to put any pressure on her. When she was ready to let him know how she felt, she’d tell him. Although it felt like he might be old and gray before that happened.

  He rubbed his cheek in her soft hair and inhaled her strawberry fragrance. He’d have to get her to plant a bed of strawberries so he could mash them against... “You know, I have a lot of kinky things I still want to do to you. You gonna be available?”

  She giggled, a husky chuckling sound that l
ifted his mood. “You’re the Master. All you have to do is tell me to be, right?”

  Wasn’t it a shame it didn’t really work like that. His power over her lasted only as long as they both wanted it to, and no longer. “Well then.” He could feel the healing scabs under her shirt and could feel how tense her muscles were. Going back to a place she’d been attacked couldn’t be easy. Maybe he’d just help her over the first hurdle. “I have a craving to see how loud I can make you scream in a tiny apartment. You have an apartment I can use tonight, sugar?”

  Under his fingers, the long muscles of her back slowly loosened. “You know, I just happen to have one available.” She rubbed her forehead against his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you, Master.”

  * * * * *

  Nolan glanced at the cage in the corner. The male sub looked miserable but in no real physical distress. He strolled past and down to the next station where a Dom was securing his sub in the stockade. Tears already ran down her cheeks although the cane at the Dom’s feet hadn’t been used yet. She’d probably be a screamer.

  Nolan stopped to scan the crowd around the door and the bar. No Beth yet. Where the hell was she?

  A lesbian couple with the sub in saloon girl garb and the Domme in a very risqué sheriff’s outfit walked past, and Nolan eyed the sheriff’s bare legs appreciatively. Old West Night at the Shadowlands was one of his favorite themes; he was Texan, after all.

  He shoved his Stetson back and slowed to check the whipping post that Z had brought out just for tonight. Using a whip in the main room meant roping off extra space to keep from nailing spectators by accident. Dressed in outlaw black, Sam had Deborah tied to the post. Nolan stopped to enjoy for a minute. The old sadist was a real master with that black snake whip of his. Deborah was already up on tiptoes and well on her way to subspace.

  Nolan scanned the room again. No Beth. He’d planned to pick her up, but she’d called to say she was running late, and Z had asked him to monitor the main room. Well, if she got cold feet, he’d just have to go out to her apartment and fetch her. That fucking apartment.