by Angel Payne
* * * * *
What a weird but wonderful dream.
The trill of an Irish whistle floated on the breeze, and a choir sang along with it. They sounded incredible, harmonizing perfectly on one of her favorite Celine Dion songs. Even the doves sounded pretty, cooing together as if trying to echo the chorus themselves. Crazy Mrs. Hopper from next door babbled something about them being hungry, and she’d be right back after grabbing some bread crumbs for them…
Mrs. Hopper? Talking to a bunch of doves?
She bolted upright in bed.
Okay, she was awake now. The drool and tear stains on Z’s former pillow were proof of that. But the choir was still singing. And the doves tried to warble with them again.
“What the hell?”
She shoved her hair off her face while shrugging into her robe. While she stumbled into the kitchen, she stubbed her toe. Since three out of the five toes on her right foot now screamed in pain, she determined she was really awake. Yet the music continued. Where was it coming—
“What. The. Hell?”
It was the last thing she stammered before her mouth popped open in shock. Perhaps permanently.
The choir, probably twenty or thirty strong, stood on her front lawn. Their red and gold robes matched the dozen standing candelabra that flanked her front walk, all draped in red satin with their tapers alight. The sidewalk between them was swathed in a plush red runner. Standing in the middle of that runner was someone who vaguely resembled Zeke Hayes.
“Vaguely” was an understatement. The man had slicked back his hair and shaved his scruff. His shoulders looked even more enormous with dual gold epaulets that draped over a fitted crimson jacket with military accents. His legs, encased in black pants, were covered to the knee in black Hessian boots. He looked gorgeous and nervous and sincere, a breathtaking prince right out of a fairy tale, which made her feel five kinds of perverted for wishing she could rip all of it off him and have her way with him right there on the sidewalk.
Wild fantasy aside, her hand shook as she waved at him through the big front window. As he smiled back, a little of the Zsycho smirk appeared. He approached the porch while she opened the front door.
“My queen Rayna.” As soon as he murmured it, the choir faded their voices into soft hums.
Her hand still trembled as he pulled it between both of his. “Errmmm…my king Zeke?”
She wanted to giggle, but his mien became even more solemn. She’d rarely seen this kind of intensity in him outside the Bastille’s dungeons. It made her knees turn to mush…and her pussy turn to fire. Thank God she was wearing a robe. And underwear.
She had no idea what to expect next, but this man taking a knee before her certainly wasn’t it. His pride, forged as a boy in the crucible of the Seattle streets, was the one thing Zeke never relented to anyone. But here he was, bowing his head to kiss the tips of her fingers before he swept the incredible fire of his gaze back up to her.
“You asked if I was willing to change for you, Rayna. For us.” One side of his mouth lifted a little. “But the truth is that I already have. You’ve changed me with your light and your love in my life, and in my heart.” He pulled back to retrieve something from his pocket. Her collar. Though he only pressed it into her palm, the cool caress of the leather brought new tears to her eyes. It felt like Heaven. Better still, it felt like home. “I love you, Rayna. And I need you. Kneeling at my feet as my submissive…standing at my side as my wife.”
She barely suppressed a sob as the choir fell silent. A breeze kicked up down the street, but all the candles stayed amazingly lit. Zeke barely moved. She wasn’t sure he even breathed.
“If she doesn’t say yes, gorgeous, you just bring that scrumptious ass over here.”
Everyone broke out in laughter at Mrs. Hopper’s flirtation. Through her giggles and her tears, Rayna looked down at the hulk who’d transformed into a prince for her. The soldier who’d fought so many of her enemies, including his own demons. And the Dom who’d set her free from her own dark nightmares.
“I think I need to go get dressed,” she finally told him.
Zeke’s brows waggled. “You look just fine to me, honey.”
“Not if I’m going to let you take me shopping, Sir.”
Zeke’s grin split his face apart as he surged to his feet and conquered her mouth in a consuming kiss. Cheers rose up, including Mrs. Hopper’s gleeful screech, as the wings of fifty doves beat the air in celebration. As Zeke kept kissing her, the choir started singing again.
Aerosmith had never sounded so good.
#
DIAMONDS IN THE RAIN
Featuring Ethan Archer & Ava Chestain
CHAPTER ONE
“Hello, Rock.”
Ava Chestain made sure to issue the greeting beneath her breath even though her fiancé, Ethan Archer, was still all the way across their suite at the Ritz-Carlton Half Moon Bay. He wouldn’t be happy to hear her talking to her engagement ring again. And he’d be outright seething, in a not-so-yummy-Dom kind of way, if he learned what she was calling the thing. But she couldn’t help it. The ring had at least twenty clear diamonds arranged in a burst pattern around a four-carat yellow diamond that had been custom-cut for the setting. Ethan had slipped it on her finger just three days ago, proposing to her—for a second time—on the Santa Monica pier at sunset in front of a cheering crowd.
He’d been holding the ring when he did it, rendering Ava more speechless than the first time he’d asked. That was quite a feat, considering that first time had occurred when they were inducting each other into the Mile-High Club on Air Force One. When she’d finally found her voice on the pier and gawked at the ring, Ethan only slung back a smirk and said declared his sunshine could now wear the sun, too.
“Caramba,” she whispered. Sergeant Archer, you’re hell-bent on spoiling me.
If only that musing didn’t tangle the pit of her stomach in abject anxiety.
“You’re talking to your ring again, aren’t you?”
She jumped. Ethan had seemingly teleported across the room and now pressed up behind her. Just her luck; she’d fallen in love with a man who was half ninja. “No,” she retorted. “It’s ignoring me today, anyhow.”
He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head atop her chin. “Do you blame it? Engagement rings get inferiority complexes, too.”
The knot in her gut tightened. Something in his murmur told her he wasn’t referring just to the ring anymore. “Ethan, I—”
“Ssshh. It’s okay. If you don’t like it—”
“No! Ay dios mio, I love it!”
“But…?”
She swallowed hard. His Dom tone, a low cadence of command, had entered the word with undeniable force. Despite his gentle hold, he expected an answer to his hard question.
His really hard question.
It was time to address the giant elephant in the room.
Ava stepped gingerly from him. There was a seat built into the window that allowed for enjoyment of the sweeping cliff and ocean view. Right now, she was just grateful for its presence in helping her trembling knees.
As she lowered to the cushion, she tugged at her lip with her teeth. She doubled the pressure when Ethan settled next to her. She was seriously in trouble. The man took her breath away in normal circumstances. But here, with his eyes nearly matching the sea and his broad chest sheathed in a thick Irish sweater, he was male decadence—and dominance—defined.
He reinforced the point by reaching and curling his hands around her wrists. He used the unconventional hold on purpose, sending an undeniable message. She was in his care now. Everything she said from her heart was safe. But he expected her to spill everything inside it.
After letting her wallow in silence for a minute, he quietly ordered, “Tell me.”
Ugh. This sucked.
“I—” She huffed and stared out toward the sea.
“Ava.” He tightened his hold. “This is me, remember?”
�
��Why don’t I just refuse to talk? Then you can punish me and—”
“Ava.”
She fell into silence when he secured her wrists in one of his hands so he could use the other to yank up her chin. As soon as the force of his cobalt blues hit, her resistance evaporated. Tears stung her eyes and seeped down her cheeks. “Ethan,” she whispered, “I’m not sure I belong here.”
His reaction was everything she expected. A scowl full of hurt and confusion. “What? Why?”
She tried to clear her senses with a breath. “That’s my point.”
“I don’t under—”
“Of course you don’t. Because you’ve probably stayed in this suite fifty times before.”
“Well, it’s better than staying at my parents’ place when I go for visits.” A grimace twisted his face. “Fuck. Talk about a place where you can’t breathe.”
Her brows jumped. “Your parents’ house is swankier than this?”
Resignation took the place of his frown. “Mausoleums are swanky too, baby. Doesn’t mean I’m comfortable in one.”
His intention was to ease her nerves. She knew that and wished she could confirm his success. Instead, her dread ballooned. She squirmed in his hold, suddenly afraid to let him see the enormity of it. As she broke down like an idiot, he released her wrists in order to pull her onto his lap.
“Baby,” he soothed. “Ava, come on. I know you’re nervous, okay? But—”
“Nervous?” she spat. “Why the hell would I be nervous? Just because I’m meeting your polo club parents in a dress I bought in a rush off the rack, at their dinner table that’ll have thirty forks at each place setting, to talk about a wedding that’ll cost more than I make in a year—”
He kissed her into silence. Tugged her face up to look at him again. “All they want to do is meet you,” he murmured. “It’ll be nice, just the four of us. And we’ll probably talk about the weather and sports.” His forehead furrowed. “And, uhhh, Mom’s orchids.”
She sniffed. “I like orchids.”
His smile was dazzling. “There you have it.”
Ava tilted up her chin in a little plea for another kiss. After Ethan obliged, she whispered, “Okay. I’ll try not to embarrass the crap out of you.”
He dug his long fingers into her hair and pulled hard. “There’ll be no more talk like that, woman. You are my queen. You’ll wear my diamonds, you’ll walk at my side, you’ll be amazing, and you’ll never ‘embarrass the crap out of me.’”
She carried those words with her through the next few hours, enjoying a walk with him on the beach before they returned to the suite to prepare for the first dinner she would have with her future in-laws. They warmed her as she showered, pampered, and dressed, even made her smile as she slipped into her dark purple dress, cut in a classic wrap style then finished with her favorite pair of strappy Prada heels. They girded her as Ethan drove up the winding driveway to his parents’ home, which approached mansion status with its ornate, Tudor-style architecture, including a Shakespeare-inspired fountain in front. She held them in her heart as tight as she clutched Ethan’s arm when they approached the door, which was set beneath an archway of white English roses.
He knocked and they waited.
He turned and kissed her, surrounding her in his leather-pepper scent tinged with John Varvatos cologne and the luxurious wool of his black dress sweater. She gripped his silk tie and shirt as he openly adored her with his lips. His groan vibrated through her, thick with his desire. Best of all, his love enveloped her, warm and complete.
Okay, maybe she could do this.
She got to savor the thought for another ten seconds, right to the moment that the door opened, flooding them with light—and the grins from at least fifty unfamiliar faces. In front of them was a woman who looked so much like Ethan Ava had no doubt about her identity. She beheld the beauty of Elle Archer for the first time.
“Surprise!” the woman exclaimed before pressing her lips to Ethan’s cheek. “Happy engagement!”
CHAPTER TWO
Ninety minutes into the party, Ethan still couldn’t figure out if this was the best thing Mom had ever done, or the worst.
He exchanged a glance across the room with Dad, whose sympathetic shrug said he didn’t have the answer, either. Good thing they’d broken out the good scotch. The amber liquid in his glass helped cut the edge in his nerves, though he paced himself with obsessive care. He wanted to be ready to get back in the car any second. Ready to drive Ava out of here if Mom had any more bombshells hiding in her dress’s flowing sleeves.
Shit.
Did it suck major balls that he jumped to suspicions like that about his own mother? That would be a resounding yes. But had history given him every damn reason for the leap? That would be a bigger yes.
Sure, he knew she loved him, but many times—most times—that depended on how far she could control him. When he’d signed up with the Army, she’d treated the decision as the giant folly of his youth, something he’d “grow out of” before coming back to walk the Archer line—a line that would start with her orchestration of his fiancé selection and wedding. If he’d dared to think otherwise, she squelched his hope on the night he called to tell them Ava had accepted his proposal. Instead of asking to meet Ava, she’d muttered something to Dad about contacting her friend at the Atherton paper’s social page so they could compose an announcement that would make the occasion sound “halfway respectable.”
Why couldn’t he shake the suspicion that this was nothing but an extension of that PR campaign?
Fuck.
The word rumbled through his chest, making him realize he’d accidentally let it fly aloud. Fortunately, he had the wall to himself at the moment. He had no illusions the respite would last. It was hard to be the party’s inconspicuous guy when the “Congratulations” loop on all three of the room’s wide screens had your name on it.
Sure enough, a barrel of damn monkeys poured over him the next second. At least that’s what the mix of buddies from his high school and college years felt like, trying to yell over each other as they dragged him outside. Though it was a freezing night thanks to the soggy front spilling over from South San Francisco Bay, all the space heaters were blowing at full force around the glass rock fire pit, which was also cranked on full force. The lights in the black-bottomed pool were on, and the landscape floods were making a valiant effort to impart an impression of the tropics in their fruit punch tones.
During the journey outside, Ava reappeared at his side, bearing the fresh scotch she’d gone to get for him. She managed a sweet smile despite the discomfort clinging to her gaze. As several more girlfriends appeared on the arms of their guys, the expected chings of fingernails on wine glasses began, signaling that the couple of honor had to entertain the crowd with a kiss.
He eagerly jumped on the opportunity.
Even with the crowd surrounding them, he didn’t waste the chance to lock their mouths hard. He didn’t regret the choice. His woman always tasted good but tonight…wow. The wine on her tongue, along with her natural essences of coconut and vanilla, pulled his tongue in deeper, deeper…
“Sheez, Archer. You demo’ing a tonsillectomy tonight?”
The exclamation carried the unmistakable snark of Link Masters, who’d likely trademarked the tone by now. The guy had been one of Atherton High School’s gods, with his café au lait skin, piercing green eyes, and entrepreneurial genius that made him a millionaire before he could legally drink to celebrate. He’d grown up to be a cocky-ass Bay Area big shot, though his arrogance was balanced by his infectious humor, generosity to his staff, and unswerving loyalty as a friend.
The guy could also take the same crap he dealt, which meant Ethan didn’t hesitate to drawl back, “Bite me, Linky Blinky.”
That earned him a round of appreciative groans from all the guys. “Yo, Masters; it’s almost Christmas,” somebody called out. “Think we’ll get a Linky Blinky reprise tonight?”
Ethan smirke
d toward his friend. “I double-dog dare you, man.”
Link held up both hands. “No fucking way. I may own half the big city, but your mom will own me if I run through her party dressed in nothing but battery-operated Christmas lights.”
Ethan chuffed. “Right. Like anyone’s going to see anything.”
“Pssshhh. Better than other people I know, damn near whipping their junk out and doing their woman in the backyard for the crowd’s enjoyment.”
He shared a secret look with Ava. Actually, that had almost happened last week in Seattle. Their scene in the main room at Bastille had gotten so hot, her ass turning such a gorgeous shade of red beneath his floggers, that he’d barely gotten her down from the St. Andrews cross and into a private room before spreading her wide and fucking her until they both collapsed.
That had been a damn good night.
Drawn by the indigo arousal in Ava’s eyes, telling him her thoughts rode the exact same train, he braced her jaw with one hand and dragged her close, claiming her mouth with his again. For an instant, the world spun away. Her little mewl, barely audible except by him, vibrated down his throat and begged him for more. Yeah, more. That sounded so fucking good right now…
“Archer! Shit. Get a room!”
He pulled up, enduring the catcalls as Ava dabbed her lipstick off his jaw. “Have one, actually,” he volleyed to his friend. “And you know, Blinky, that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” He grabbed Ava’s hand and started to rise. “You heard the man, sunshine. Back to the Four Seasons for us. Good night, every—”
As the crowd’s roar of protest cut him off, Link pushed him back down. Parker North and Knox Redding, two of his best gamer buddies, helped. Both of them had women on their arms tonight as well, and that freaked him out. He’d kept up with both guys via in-game message boards through the years, and neither of them had ever mentioned a serious relationship interest. While Amy and Kamlyn seemed nice, he wondered if they’d been picked by his friends or for his friends.