by Josie Hunter
Rosa turned to Robb, and when he focused his attention on her, she felt she might drown in the depths of those blue eyes. That glint of silver sparked in his eyes, and Rosa felt her thong dampen. When was the last time that had happened from a mere glance? She tapped her lip. “I’ve been thinking. Why don’t you take a dance class? Perhaps ballroom dancing? It’s a wonderful way to relieve the stress.”
Robb gave her a sardonic grin. “That’s not how I relieve my stress, Rosa. You know that.”
“And is it working?” she countered. When he simply stared at her with those mesmerizing eyes, she continued. “Maybe you should find a different way. Maybe you should let someone else be in control for a while.”
Robb arched one eyebrow at her, and with that simple gesture, a stab of desire shot through her pussy. Damn, she was playing with fire.
“Really?” Robb said. “Have you ever thought that might be good for yourself? Relinquishing the control? Letting someone else make all the decisions for you? Taking that responsibility away so you can feel nothing but the pleasure?”
Rosa suppressed a little shudder. She slipped her dark glasses down over her eyes and wondered if she could ever give up control. Could she let a man dominate her? She wasn’t sure about that, but she knew getting a man like Robb Jackson to submit to her would be the ultimate satisfaction.
“Are you hiding behind those glasses, Rosie?” Robb teased, tilting his head to look at her with an amused grin.
Damn. She could actually feel herself blushing. What was it about this man that could throw her off-balance so easily? She never let anyone call her Rosie outside of the pride. Even Lucia didn’t call her Rosie, and the woman had practically raised her. She tilted her chin to look up at him and fanned herself lazily. “In case you haven’t noticed, Mr. Jackson, it’s hot as hell out here, and it’s bright.”
“If there’s one thing I know about black mambas, Rosie, it’s that they adore the heat, and they’re at their horniest when it’s hot.”
“That’s two things,” Rosa said breathlessly.
He let his gaze slide down her body in a fiery caress, and then he inhaled deeply and smiled. “Anything you’d care to share with me?”
Rosa lifted her chin higher. “Not a thing.”
Robb chuckled deep in his chest, and it sounded like a purr. Rosa involuntarily squeezed her thighs together as the sound vibrated through her body and came to rest in her pussy, causing it to tighten with need.
Simultaneously, they glanced over at the back of Cougar’s BDSM club, looked back at each other, and laughed.
“I guess we know where our minds are,” Robb said, tossing the remainder of his dripping cone into the nearby trash bin.
“Sí, we appear to be as one mind today.” Rosa stood up from the table and held her beer bottle against her cheek. Even the shock of the cold bottle couldn’t bring her raging hormones under control. She wanted to coil her body around his and feel his body heat melt against hers. Instead, she cocked her hip and gave him her sultriest look. “If you ever need to relax, Tomcat, you know where to find me.”
Robb stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll bring my flogger.”
Rosa shook her head slightly. “I have plenty of my own.”
“Then we’re at a temporary impasse,” Robb said.
Rosa smiled to herself as she walked away. Temporary.
* * * *
As dusk settled over the park, Robb checked in with Bobby. His kid was happy as a snake on a hot rock, currently standing in line for the Tilt-A-Whirl with Cynthia Fauve and Randy Harris, the son of one of his Tomcats. Since Bobby still had ten dollars in his pocket and a ride-all-day wristband on his arm, Robb knew he had a while to relax before they met up for the fireworks. He grabbed a Shiner from the beer tent, followed the honky-tonk music across the park, and found a couple of his men—Tomcat 15 and Tomcat 8—halfway down the midway. Steve Harris, Tomcat 15, lounged against the side of a rather ramshackle gaming stall, his huge frame in danger of toppling the dilapidated wall. His long, dark hair shaded his equally dark eyes, but from his posture, Robb guessed he was halfway between amusement and impatience. Tomcat 8, Marcus Gallagher, a lanky young panther, was throwing darts at balloons with a vengeance.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
Robb ambled up beside Marcus as he was getting ready to throw the fifth dart.
“Hey, crack shot, think that’s fair?”
Marcus stuttered in mid-throw, his wrist wobbling. The dart smacked into the cork backboard. He flung auburn hair off his forehead.
Steve started laughing. “Dang, Marco, when was the last time you missed anything at the end of a sight?”
Without a word, Marcus picked up another dart and tossed it. Unerringly, the dart targeted a big red balloon, and Marcus spun toward Steve before the sound even reached Robb’s ears. Pop!
“I’m working without a sight here,” Marcus grumbled. “And it’s not like I’m taking prizes.”
Steve swept out an arm and smirked in Robb’s direction. “He’d own everything in this stand otherwise.”
“Sure ’nuff,” said the old guy hunkered on a rickety stool behind the counter. He paused in the middle of his whittle, lifted dark gray eyes, and smiled a smile full of tobacco-stained teeth. He ran a hand full of wood shavings through the tufts of hair scattered across his head. “Young’un just likes showin’ off.” He swiped at the piece of wood with a small pocketknife. “Don’t mind much. Most of the kids are off a’ridin’. ’Sides, like the young’un says, he ain’t takin’ no prizes. He’s god-dang good though sure ’nuff.”
Marcus continued hurling darts at the balloons, the staccato sounds of the small explosions filling the area around the stall like bursts from a tiny machine gun.
Robb leaned toward Steve. “What’s got him all riled up?”
“Take a guess,” Steve mumbled.
“I’m right here,” Marcus snarled. Pop!
“Girl most likely,” the old guy muttered.
“He’s right about that.” Steve shoved the cowboy hat back from his forehead and stared off down the midway. “We were talking with Rosa Santos a bit earlier.”
“I see,” Robb said.
“You don’t see shit,” Marcus snarled.
Robb frowned. Another snarl. Damn, the guy was usually in such a good mood, but Robb was sure that, if anyone could put a smile on a man’s face one minute and wipe it off the next, it would be Rosa Santos.
“And?” Robb said. Both men stared at him silently. He lifted his hand. “I assume the conversation didn’t end with ‘Meet me at the club later?’”
“No,” Marcus snapped, “it didn’t.”
Steve glanced at the old man then herded them a few feet away. They were, after all, talking about one of their alpha’s best friends. “I tried to tell him Rosa’s had a busy day. I mean, hell, she’s a member of the royal family around here. Everyone wants a piece of her today.”
Marcus growled and gave him a scary look.
“Calm down, kid. I didn’t mean it that way.”
Marcus stalked back to the stall and scooped up a handful of darts. He fired them all simultaneously. Robb watched as, miraculously, five of the six hit their targets. Maybe it wasn’t so miraculous. Marcus had been their best shot since his hire. Marcus whirled around and marched toward Steve again, and his voice filtered through the air like a promise of danger. “I’ve asked you not to call me kid. I’m twenty-seven fucking years old.”
The old man chuckled. “Still a young’un.”
Marcus shot the old guy a dirty look then saved the rest of his ire for them. If words were nails, he and Steve would have been plugged full of holes and leaking body fluids. “It’s Thursday, isn’t it?” He glared at Steve. “Well, isn’t it?” When Steve nodded, Marcus turned his stare toward Robb. “We always see Rosa on Thursdays.”
Steve took his arm and dragged him away from the stall again. “Yeah, I get that. I’m disappointed too, but even Rosa’s allowed to have a
day off.”
Marcus kicked at a rock with the toe of his cowboy boot. “I suppose.”
“You guys see Rosa every Thursday?” Robb asked, though he wasn’t surprised to find they spent Thursday with Rosa. He’d known she entertained a lot on Thursday, which was why he avoided Thursday at the club like the plague. He shared the club with her a couple evenings a week, but those were generally just a few hours when they occasionally crossed paths. He’d discovered Rosa spent quite a long time there on Thursdays, and it had been getting far too hard to resist knocking on her playroom door. Now he knew why she was there so long. The fact that two of his friends, his employees, had a standing date with his dream girl, though, kind of rankled. He hadn’t even gotten one yet. Not even a platonic one. “Every Thursday?”
Steve shrugged, his black hair sliding across one shoulder. “Yeah. Been seeing her together for six months or so. It happened quite by accident one week, and she seemed excited by the prospect. We kept going together because she’s always up for a bit of one-on-two action. She likes a challenge.”
“I’ll bet,” Robb murmured. He glanced up, his gaze darting between them. “So you both have…what? The hots for her?” Damn, how high school could he get?
“It’s a bit more than that,” Marcus said softly.
Robb tossed his empty beer bottle in the recycle bin and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. He stared toward the old man who had begun replacing balloons on his cork wall. “I see.”
“We’ve seen you looking at her too, boss,” Steve said. “It’s one of the reasons we haven’t made our move.”
Robb snapped his attention toward Tomcat 15. “Your move? Seriously?”
“We’re kind of in love with her, boss,” Marcus said.
“Oh, Marco,” Robb said, shaking his head, “not a good idea. Not a good idea at all. She’s a freaking Domme.”
“She’s more than that,” Steve said, his eyes darker beneath the brim of his hat even in the brilliance of the midway lights.
“I’d have to agree with you there,” Robb said quietly.
He heaved a sigh, wondering how they’d be able to resolve this particular situation. Sure, she was a Domme, and sure, Steve and Marcus were Rosa’s playmates, but even he knew she’d never have a standing appointment with a playmate without a good reason, a really good reason. There was every possibility Rosa had feelings for them as well or was, at the very least, developing feelings. He shouldn’t have been surprised she’d be drawn to two men, two friends. She’d been around the Lucas family all her life. Her best friend, Jillian, had been married to the five men of the Lucas pride before her untimely murder, and Rosa had watched her new best friend, Carly, living in blissful happiness with those same five men. What if his black mamba beauty was looking for a male harem of her own?
Steve and Marcus were discussing their next move with their favorite Domme. Robb cast a glance in their direction. Good friends. Great at their jobs. Steve was a good father, and Robb thought the men were two of the best he’d ever known. He drew in a deep breath.
If Rosa wanted more than one man in her life, if he had to share, would he be willing to do that? Well, the answer to that little quandary was a flat-out yes. He already knew from his time around the Lucas clan that it could work with amazingly positive results for everyone involved.
He released a heavy breath, and both men swiveled toward him at the sound.
“I’ve got a proposition for you.”
“What’s on your mind, boss?” Steve asked.
“Maybe we can all come out of this with what we want.”
Marcus gave him a sidelong glance. “In what way?”
“You want her,” Robb said. “Steve wants her. And I want her.”
Steve laughed. “That’s a whole lot of wanting for one woman.”
“It is,” Robb agreed, “but there’s a whole history of sharing in this town.”
“What about what Rosa wants?” Marcus asked.
“I’m not sure Rosa knows what she wants,” Robb said, “but I’ve got a way we can show her everything she might want. After that, it’ll be her call.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed in confusion, but Steve looked like he understood because he smiled.
“Come on.” Robb nodded toward the refreshment tent. “I’ll buy you a beer, and we’ll talk over my idea.”
“If I need a drink to like your idea,” Marcus said with a smile, “we’ve got a problem. Besides, I’m on duty later.”
“That’s entirely your problem, Marco,” Steve said. “A day like this goes better with beer.” He whacked Robb on the back. “Lead the way, boss. I’m about three beers behind everyone else, and Randy’s with his mother this week. Fill me up and I’ll be putty in your hands.”
The men started toward the beer tent, but they’d taken only a couple steps when the old geezer called out, “Hey, young’un!”
Marcus turned, and a stuffed Stewie Griffin hit him square in the chest. He caught it up and laughed.
“Y’all looked like a Family Guy kind of guy.”
“That I am,” Marcus said. He lifted the toy in salute. “Thanks, old-timer.”
“Sure thing, young’un. Good luck with the girl. Rosa Santos…now there’s a pretty little snake-shifter.” The old man winked, and Marcus’s eyes just about fell out of his head.
“How on earth did he hear all that?”
“Owl-shifter,” Robb said. “I know his son from Clandestine. Now let me tell you what might work…”
* * * *
Talon handed Esteban Santos the small vial his brother had tossed him in the park. Santos held it in his long, dark fingers, staring at it with a reverence that made Talon uneasy. “Why do you need her blood, sir? If you don’t mind my asking, I mean, why not use your own?”
Santos looked at Talon for moment before replying. He placed the small vial carefully into a silver case lined with foam and shut the lid, flipping the locks down on both sides. “I suppose you deserve an answer to that, Talon, since your brother did such a fine job of getting the sample for me so quickly.”
The serpent-shifter seemed to glide to the bar where he poured two shots of tequila and added a touch of lime to each. He handed one to Talon and knocked his own back in one fast swallow. He reached for the bottle again, pouring himself another shot. “When my children were being conceived by their respective mothers, I experimented a bit with their DNA, trying to enhance their inherent powers. As it turned out, my experiments were disappointing. I made beautiful children, of course, but I never quite succeeded in the effects I wanted.”
When Santos fell silent, Talon figured it was time for a question. He’d dealt with the man’s son long enough. He knew most minions existed simply to serve as an audience for their evil geniuses. They had to give their lectures on evildoing to someone. Santos, the arrogant bastard, was one of those motherfuckers. Like son, like father. They were all just real-life comic characters.
“What were you hoping for, sir?”
Santos shot a glance toward him. Santos was happy, and when Santos was happy, Talon was happy. He was apparently toeing the line the expected way. His boss gave him a speculative look.
“What would you be hoping for, Talon?”
Oh, great. Audience participation. He took a moment to think. Don’t screw this up.
“Something to strengthen my family, aid my business dealings, secure my power,” Talon said cautiously.
When Santos’s brow rose, Talon wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Damn, maybe Santos thought he was infallible, that his power was absolute.
“Wonderful answer, Talon.”
He stayed quiet. This wasn’t the time for a resounding, “Thank you, sir!”
Santos fingered the shot glass in his hand. “What else?”
Feeling a bit braver, Talon pulled out all the requirements he could think of concerning absolutism. “Additional strength, stamina, intelligence, charisma, health. And in the case of your family, sir…” Tread c
autiously. Don’t get cocky. “Maybe a more powerful or destructive venom.”
“Ah, Talon, such a wise eagle you are.”
Now was the time. “Thank you, sir,” he said quietly.
It wasn’t really a guess. Talon had known Viper’s poison was deadlier than any other serpent venom out there.
“I watched for mutations in each child but saw nothing at first. I lost access to Rosa when she was an infant, but I did have Juan with me and ran tests on him biannually. When Juan reached puberty, I found something very unusual in his blood.”
This time Talon filled in the slight gap immediately. “What did you find, sir?” he asked, trying very hard to sound mesmerized.
“Puberty stirred some previously inactive anomalies in his genes. Suddenly his profile contained an unusual element, one that translated into a mutation of the gene controlling his venom. This mutation resulted in a very powerful venom, a venom that mutates itself over time. Because of this, there will be no antidote. Before one could be formulated, the venom would have already mutated into another form, much like a deadly virus does as it passes through a population. Such a powerful weapon… Alas, the only source was my poor departed Juan, and now…”
Talon swallowed, reluctant to ask what was on his mind, but he had to know.
“Have you tried genetic experiments on other children, sir?”
“I have,” he said, nodding. “I have tried to repeat the effect in other serpent-shifter children, but it seems to be exclusive to my progeny, though I’ve no idea why.”
“Which is why you need Rosa’s blood.”
“Sí, Talon. I need to find out if my daughter carries the same properties in her blood that Juan did. I believe she does, but I can’t be certain until it’s tested by my biochemists.”
Talon was burning to ask why Santos didn’t just have more children and experiment on them, but something kept his beak shut. It really wasn’t any of his business. Most members of the Santos family were known to be brilliantly insane, sometimes just plain crazy, and he didn’t want to trigger Esteban’s anger. His brother had already found out what the Santos men were capable of, and Talon himself had been on the receiving end of pain more than once with Viper.