Lance placed Jeremy limp form back upon the floor and advanced on Beth, shoving her forcefully with the bulk of his head.
Suddenly, like a rubber band drawn tight one time too many, she snapped or rather the leash on her inner Dragon did.
In a flurry of action, she thrust her wings from her side and shoved with her hind legs in order to propel herself through the hole Wesley left in the ceiling. She heard Lance roar but ignored him as he flapped her wings and lifted herself higher into the sky.
In looking down at the carnage littering the expansive front lawn, fear rose up and choked her. Swinging her head back and forth, she searched for Wesley’s vibrant red form. Her blood froze in her veins when she finally found him lying on his side amongst a massive number of dead soldiers.
She looked back toward the driveway and noticed dust plumes floating in the distance. Apparently he’d killed enough that the rest retreated. Whether they’d return with reinforcements or not, she couldn’t know. Stilling her wings, she glided to the ground near Wesley and nudged him softly with her snout.
He was still alive; she felt his heartbeat through their connection. But his mind was silent as a grave. She threw back her head and let loose a grief-stricken roar that shook the ground beneath her.
Within seconds, Lance was at her side. He looked at Beth and then the house where her parents were. She understood what he asked. He needed her to choose; save her mate or capture her parents.
As far as her heart was concerned, there was no choice. Leaning down, she gently nudged Wesley’s head.
She understood the enormity of her decision. Her parents would awaken and they would escape or they’d die; their destinies were no longer her concern. The war wasn’t over. It hadn’t even begun. She knew where she belonged and it was at Wesley’s side, defending and protecting their Faction.
Chapter Ten
Beth paced the strange bedroom suite of the Royal Palace deep beneath the Earth’s surface. Lance had managed to get Wesley to the cave about ten miles from the estate. Once inside, he’d shown her the both well-hidden and well-guarded portal to their underground city.
She hated leaving her parents behind and wondered if they survived. If so, she knew her father wouldn’t stop until he’d killed Wesley and she wouldn’t let that happen. She vowed that should she face her father again, she would do whatever was necessary to make him see the error of his ways. Or if that failed, then she’d kill him herself rather than let him hurt her mate.
For the moment, all she knew was that her mate was in bed, being tended by the Faction’s surgeon. She felt him through their connection and she didn’t like the weak pulse coming from his heart.
She couldn’t lose him now, not when she’d just found him. She’d been pledged to him her entire life, but she never thought she’d love him.
A brief knock preceded Lance entering their chambers, his face awash in worry.
“How is he?” he asked softly.
Beth shrugged her shoulders and wiped an errant tear making its way down her cheek.
“He’s weak and lost a lot of blood, the surgeon is sewing his wounds,” she responded. “I can’t lose him,” she added and her voice hitched.
“You won’t,” the surgeon announced as he approached them, wiping his bloodied hands on a towel. “Your mate needs you,” he added and brushed past them. “Lance, grab my bags please and let’s leave the newlyweds to their privacy.”
Lance blushed and nodded curtly before retrieving the doctor’s bags and rushing toward the door himself.
“Wait,” Beth called. “I don’t understand, what am I supposed to do?”
Lance stopped just inside the threshold and turned to face her. He smiled coyly and winked.
“Your mating ceremony isn’t exactly complete,” he announced and pulled the door closed behind him.
Realization dawned and Beth spun to study the unconscious form of her mate. Moving slowly and quietly, she approached the bed and watched the unsteady rise and fall of his chest; his gloriously muscled, smooth chest. Clenching and unclenching her hands several times, she finally decided to hell with tradition and shoved the silk robe from her shoulders, stepping out of the purple pool as soon as it hit the floor.
She climbed up on the bed and moved to straddle Wesley and shrieked in surprise when his large hands moved to grasp her thighs.
“You scared me,” she scolded. “You’re weak and shouldn’t exert yourself.”
Wesley smiled although he’d yet to open his eyes.
“The day I miss my mate ravishing me is the day I die,” he announced weakly. “And I’m not going to die without tasting you first,” he added and shifted so that he pinned her to the bed with his heavy body.
“Your stitches,” she screeched and shoved at him. “You’ll reopen the wound.”
Wesley responded by leaning down and taking her earlobe between his teeth the same time his hand wandered south and penetrated the mound of red curls between her legs. She almost purred at the sensations that racked her body.
“As you so elegantly pointed out, I am weak and I owe you much more than a quick romp in the sack, but I need you so badly I don’t think I can take it slow and easy,” Wesley murmured as he nibbled a path from her ear, down her neck and then back up to her lips. “Are you okay with that?”
Beth threw her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, her heels digging into his gloriously firm ass.
“Take what you need, however you need it,” she answered and gripped his hair tight enough to bring tears to his eyes. “My body is yours for now and forever.”
Wasting no more time, Wesley drove into her like a starving man after water. She raised her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. She clawed at his back with her nails and bit at his neck, suckling the tender flesh with her blunt Human teeth.
When she felt that tidal wave cresting, she knew the end was near, so she allowed her fangs to elongate and punctured the skin directly over his carotid artery, almost smiling when he gasped in response.
“Turn about is fair play,” he panted and punctured her throat in return. They drank from one another until they’d leeched every last remnant of pleasure from one another.
Beth felt Wesley’s strength returning with every beat of her heart. Her blood had returned him to health and vitality.
With his skin flushed a deep scarlet, Wesley rolled onto the bed beside her and pulled her against his side in a bone-crushing embrace.
“What about the war?” Beth asked, although she hated to spoil the moment. It wasn’t as if they were alone on a deserted island. Even though they basked in the afterglow of sharing souls, they were still in grave danger.
“It will still be there in a couple hours,” Wesley mused.
“Did you ever meet Phillip the Peaceful?” Beth asked as the thought suddenly occurred. The way Wesley had spoken of him, with a fondness only a close relationship could boast, she felt sure he had.
Wesley smiled coyly and turned his head to study her.
“Yes,” he answered simply. “So have you.”
But before Beth could ask who he meant, Wesley advanced on her with a ravishing gleam in his eyes and she knew well how they’d spend the next couple hours.
THE END
Epilogue
Henry pulled the old manuscripts and tomes from the book cart and lovingly returned them to the glass case he stored them in. He’d enjoyed enlightening Beth about Phillip the Peaceful’s journey and was pleased when she’d seen the truth and light of His words.
Although the war had begun, all four Factions were now secured with their Crowned and Mated leaders. The rebels didn’t know the battle that awaited them.
Shuffling over to the low burning fire, Henry took a handful of finely ground powder from a pouch hanging from his robe’s belt and sprinkled it carefully across the flames.
“Time to wake up,” he murmured and smiled when the walls and ceilings rumbled in response. As an original Ancient One - th
e last surviving one - Henry knew if the Elementals were to remain in existence, the last Faction would need to make a return. All their kind believed them extinct when all the while they’d remained in stasis, hidden safely away until such time as they were needed.
THE END
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Sneak Peek: Her Fake Fiancé Billionaire Boss
Chapter 1
Everything would be fine. At worst, she would end up laughing and assume he was pulling her leg or at best she would take the offer without another question.
Justin Dunne's workday was coming to an end. Any minute now his assistant Jennifer would be coming to let him know she’s heading home for the day. And when she did, he would conjure up the nerve to ask her what he had wanted to ask her all day. The worst part is that he didn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times he had to rephrase his question. He suddenly felt small in his large office, dreading what he was about to do. But what was the worst that could happen? If she said no, she would just leave and show up to work the next day like nothing happened. Maybe. She could also assume the worst and think this was his way of sexually harassing her.
But if she said yes, his plan would work perfectly.
Would this count as sexual harassment? He contemplated this as he sat at his desk drumming his fingers impatiently on its surface. Irritated he stood up and walked around his desk to sit on the edge, but no pose could erase the sense of doom that lingered on the border of his mind. He took a deep steadying breath and said, “Everything would be fine, just breath, ask her what you want and let the chips fall where they may.”
There was a slight knock on his door, and he quickly moved around to sit behind his desk again, trying his best to look at ease.
“Come in!” he called and cleared his throat. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
With her purse in hand and her coat dangling over her arm, she walked into his office and smiled, and Justin stood up. It was not an out of the ordinary gesture, since he was taught etiquette by his mother from the day he was able to stand. You always stood up in the presence of a lady. But right now, he felt awkward to say the least.
"Mr. Dunne, I’m heading home now, is there anything else you need me to handle before I go?”
He nodded and reached for a pile of files, then motioned for her to sit, “Actually there is…” he started, but his courage hung on a thread over a gaping chasm waiting to swallow it whole.
“Of course,” she said, her smile fading ever so slightly.
He couldn’t blame her, of all the staff; she’s always the one who stayed behind to tie up his loose ends. Over time he had grown so used to it that he had taken her for granted. Sooner or later she was going to get fed up or find the love of her life who will insist she worked her nine to five day and focus on a relationship, or worse a family.
"How have you been?” he asked wanting to kick himself, he never asks her how she is, why start now?
Jennifer looked at him quizzically as she tilted her head, “Is there something wrong?”
Instead of sitting down, he rounded his desk and walked past her and headed for his personal mini-bar. Which, low and behold, thanks to Jennifer, was always stocked with drinks. If he wanted to he could live in his office and not have any reason to leave. He had a closet full of clean work clothes, a bathroom, a bar and a single phone call could have any meal of his choice brought to his office.
"Drink?" he asked, as he poured himself a glass of bourbon.
The bar was near a floor to ceiling window that gave him a magnificent view of the city when he looked out of it; just one of the perks of having a penthouse office. The view was breathtaking but the vertigo-inducing height didn’t help his trepidation right then.
Justin regarded her where she sat with her legs crossed causing her skirt to ride up slightly, it wasn’t not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to catch his eye and distract him without any intention. He was professional but he was not blind. Jennifer's hair was a rich chestnut tone, with lighter brown highlights throughout. She was of average height and even in heals, she was still quite a bit shorter than him. Being on the swimming team in high school and college had given her an athletic build, which emphasized a generous chest that her conservative work blouses did not hide.
Jennifer sat at the desk watching her boss's back as he poured himself a drink.
"No, I'm fine thank you, but what is this about sir?" she asked again. She was sure that she had done everything he expected to the book, and if she had missed anything at all, surely he would follow the proper procedure and let HR handle any enquiries. In fact, he had never appeared so casual and so completely strange all at once. Mr Dunne was always in control, the epitome of sheer class and caliber. Something serious must be on his mind. And she had a sinking feeling it somehow involved her. And that she might possibly find it unpleasant.
With his back turned against her, she took a moment to admire him; it was what every woman in the entire building did when he wasn’t watching. His jacket, vest and tie had been discarded on the leather sofa against the wall, and he had rolled his sleeves up. He had thick, sinewy forearms, which were certainly not built from hours of pencil pushing and corporate meetings. He worked out, once again, no secret. Come to think of it, she knew almost every detail of his life, from his favorite coffee to his preferred restaurant. She knew he had his own private gym and he had his own personal trainer. On that level, he was an open book.
She worried her lip as he turned around, and feigned absolute patience as she waited for him to tell her what this was all about.
"You know about the deal with Pryor?" he said walking slowly past her as he rounded the desk.
"He's the one you want to buy the property from in Midtown," she responded and re-crossed her legs.
"That's right. He's shown additional interest in becoming an investor with us."
"That's fantastic!”
She was excited for him, but not quite sure where the whole cloak and dagger routine was headed. If he wanted a scheduled meeting with Pryor or whatever else, he could easily have asked her to do it in the morning. It wasn't that she didn't take her work seriously but she had a life, and that was in her one bedroom apartment, with her cat Ratchet having a love affair with her favorite TV series. Her workday was over and she couldn't wait to go home and kick her shoes off.
"It is. I'm having him over to my house for dinner to discuss the deal.” He paused, swirling the rich amber liquid around his glass.
She shifted in the chair and set her purse down, "Do you want me to schedule it? Get in contact with him? Send a car over?"
"No, none of that, I actually have a favor to ask you. You see Jennifer... there’s no easy way to say this…”
"What is it?" she asked, mulling over his very strange behavior.
"Well, I invited Mr Pryor for dinner on Friday, to talk about the deal and to introduce him to my fiancée."
He was engaged?! That morsel of information was a surprise. And somewhat deflating, though Jennifer cared not to examine that feeling right now. He never mentioned his fiancée in all her time working as his PA and now out of the blue, he was going to host a dinner and introduce her to a business partner. She clearly underestimated him; he wasn’t just a drab of a boss married to his work. He had a heart. She couldn’t wait to tell the others and watch their hopes and dreams shatter into a billion pieces.
She looked at him curiously and tilted her head, "I’m sorry Mr Dunn, but how does this involve me, do you need me to send a car for her?"
“That’s just the problem,” he said and tossed his drink back.
“I’m confused, you’re hosting a dinner and your fiancée will be attending, how is that a problem? And what is it that you need me to do exactly?”
>
"There is no fiancée," he said and dropped down on his chair, extending his hands behind his head, “There never was.”
Confused hardly covered it. He had no fiancée. This baffled the shit out of her, if he had no fiancée why then make arrangements like that?
"Then who is hosting the dinner with you? You want me to call Pyor and cancel it, or postpone at least?" she asked curiously.
"I’m hoping that it would not come to that, which is where you come in. What I want Jennifer, is for you to host the dinner with me."
Jennifer sat for a moment, searching his face for any mirth. There was none. If anything, the deadpan expression masking his face showed just how serious he was. His stormy blue eyes were filled with an electric charge capable of lighting up New York City. Jennifer panicked, suddenly realizing he was serious. His usually impeccably styled black hair was tousled like he'd been stuck in the ventilation system.
"Excuse me?" she asked tentatively as she clutched her purse in her hands, certain that she had cracked her cellphone screen. But wanting to clarify what he was implying before she jumped to the obviously ridiculous conclusion her brain was insisting on.
He leaned forward, and steepled his fingers together, "I want to introduce you as my fiancée.”
If it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face, she would have burst out laughing. It was an absolute outrageous idea, one that was clearly not well thought through.
"With all due respect sir..." she started.
"I know it’s a tall order, but..."
Jennifer huffed, “No, a tall order is expecting a republican to marry a democrat, or sending an inexperienced journalist to a war-torn country. What you’re asking is completely absurd and inappropriate,” she ranted.
His Takeover: An Enemies to Lovers Romance Page 96