by Julie Kenner
“—by three men—”
“And Brooke was taken captive by twice that many, less than a mile from the Sancti Palais.”
“—in a city full of savages!”
“Saynt.” My laughter vanishes. “That. Is. Enough.”
Moody silence. Then another guttural growl. “I told Court that if anything happened to you…if one hair on your head was hurt—”
“Enough!”
His answering breath is so rough, static invades the line. “Mishella…please,” he finally grates. “Come home, where I can protect you.”
I sigh, but with conviction to match his. “Do Paipanne and Maimanne know you are asking this?”
“Do you know how unfair that question is?”
I give a mixture of grunt and hum, our sibling shorthand for an apology. He is right. My brief call with our parents, just thirty minutes ago, yielded their subdued concern—mostly about whether Cassian would hold his “misfortune” against me or not—but little else. If the decision is solely theirs, I am definitely staying in New York.
As Vy would say: oh, the glorious irony. For the first time in a long time, I want exactly what Mother and Father do.
“But what you are asking is equally unfair, Saynt Austyn Santelle.” I let the rebuke set in before softly going on. “I know it sounds strange, even unbelievable, after what has happened…but please, please try to understand. I…belong here now, Saynt. In New York. With Cassian.”
“Because you signed that fucking contract?”
“Because I have fallen in love with him.”
And it took nearly losing him to realize it.
Another long silence.
As I have expected.
Saynt emerges from the shock with a few sputters—and I brace myself for the string of questions to come after that—but Cassian’s nurse sprints into his room, clawing me with new dread from head to toe. Past the exposed nerves in its wake, I blurt a promise to Saynt that I shall call back, and race in behind her.
“What is it? What is wrong? Is he—”
“Being completely difficult?” The nurse spits it over her shoulder, fighting Cassian for control of his oxygen mask.
“Oh.” My fingers press my laughing lips. Surely I have earned a spot on the woman’s “shit list” because of it, but holding back my exhilaration is a physical and emotional impossibility.
Ridiculous, tenacious, wonderfully alive man.
My man.
“This is New York Presbyterian, not Court Tower, mister.” The nurse forces the plastic dome back over his nose and mouth. “You’ve just had three bullets pulled out of your body, which means I’m the boss for a while—and the boss says this stays on until your oxygen levels are better.”
To my wonder—and, it seems, to hers—Cassian sinks back to the pillow. Gives a terse nod. She returns the action, looking satisfied with his sincerity.
I bite my lip.
I know better.
Sure enough, as soon as her footsteps fade down the hall, he shoves the mask away. His other hand is already full of mine, dragging me as close as his wounds will allow. Not being his immediate family, I have only been given generalities for updates. By the grace of the Creator, the punk in the park was a lousy shot, and none of the bullets hit major organs. The trauma surgery went well—and one look at the magnificence of Cassian Court’s body, even encased in a hospital gown, is testament to his outstanding base health.
Still, the intensity of his grip is enough to pop my stare wide. “Cassian.” I almost add a maternal cluck, despite the non-maternal thoughts inspired simply by his exposed knees. “Save your strength. The nurse is right. Your levels—”
“Will be fine.” His throat sounds coated in twelve layers of rust—though after one second of his gaze, it is clear some are not physically related. “I have my air again.”
Oh.
Him.
I lift the union of our hands. Several tubes take up the space on the back of his, so I turn it over, then press a kiss into his palm. “And I have mine.”
His beautiful lips push together. He swallows heavily. “My mother—”
“Has been called,” I assure. “Hodge handled it. He and Prim are downstairs, waiting for her.” I crunch a little frown. “For some reason, he was listed as your emergency contact.”
“Yeah.” He nods before closing his eyes for a moment. “He can break things to her better than emergency personnel.”
My frown deepens. “Has he had to do this before?”
He lets that fall into a long silence. Keeps his eyes closed the whole time. When he finally looks back up at me, it is with his lagoon-dark eyes—and his not-to-be-brooked intent. “I was awake…for a little while…before you came in. I heard you on the phone…with Saynt.”
His allusion rests between us like a wick just catching fire—beautiful but uncertain. At last I whisper back, “Oh you did, did you?”
His hand lifts. Frames my face. “Did you mean it? Have you fallen in love with me, Ella…despite the secrets, the ghosts, the flying martini glasses, the New York City wildlife…”
I lean over…unable to hold back from sealing my mouth to his now. And yes, even here and even now, I am shocked we do not make the building’s lights flicker with the flare of our attraction. Before his monitors dance too crazily, I pull away—if only by a few inches.
“Living in the wild is just perfect for me, Mr. Court…as long as I live in it with you.”
CASSIAN
Nurse Ratchet is going to have to deal.
Kissing my woman again isn’t negotiable.
Of course…this is more than a kiss.
It’s a seal. The signet of my spirit, my soul, my heart…
Everything she has given back to me.
Everything I thought I’d never have again.
Everything that was robbed from me because of pain and loss and fear, instead of hope and belief and light.
And love.
Yeah…that.
I curl fingers into her hair. Pull her down a little more.
“I’m in love with you too.” As a smile brims her lips and tears edge her eyes, I quickly clarify, “But favori, I’m rusty at this shit. Really rusty. I’m…I’m not going to get everything right.”
She caresses through the stubble along my jaw. “And that is a news flush?”
“Well. It might be a news flash to some—but if you’re patient, I promise…I’m a fast learner. It’ll get better.”
Fuck. So much better. My little sorceress probably doesn’t realize it, but she’s just dangled the biggest carrot for recuperating I could ever have. Dammit, I will get my ass out of this bed—then get cracking on making every one of her dreams come true. There’s an action item list well underway…
One: make love to her for a week straight.
Two: take her to turret two—and include all the details this time.
Three: make love to her for another week straight.
Four: bid on chocolate factories—preferably near libraries.
Five: take her to the newly purchased factory. Collect on preferred calendar status for date night.
“Cassian.” Her sweet, high sigh refocuses me on the here and now—and the temptation of her full lips, now parted in perfect invitation. I lift up…and sweep in. She moans, sighing again. I steal her breath, and give her back my own.
My air…
Our tongues tangle. Taste. Conquer. Surrender.
My love…
But the completion of the moment…is the beating of her heart. Pressed to mine, matching mine…knowing mine so far beyond the flimsy confines of the time we’ve had physically together. She knows me from the depths of fate—from the forever of the destiny that has completely, absolutely, brought us together. The destiny I’m trusting again now…no matter how fucking terrified I am.
But I refuse to live in that fear.
Once more, despite the fear raiding every cell of my body because of it, I choose love.
/> I choose her.
I’m opening the gift.
Thank you for reading! I truly hope you enjoyed the beginning of Cassian and Mishella’s story, because I loved getting to tell it.
More of Cassian and Mishella’s love story is on its way…
Part 2, coming in Pretty Perfect Toy:
Available on August 23, 2016. PURCHASE HERE
Part 3 (final), coming in Bold Beautiful Love:
Available on September 27, 2016. PURCHASE HERE
Discover the Cimarrons of Arcadia:
Book 1: Into His Dark (Evrest and Camellia)
Available Now—PURCHASE HERE
Book 2: Into His Command (Samsyn and Brooke)
Available Now—PURCHASE HERE
Book 3: Into Her Fantasies (Shiraz and Lucy) – Available November 2016
(Pre-order available soon)
Book 4: Into His Sin (Jagger and Jayd) – Available February 2017
Other Books By Angel Payne
THE SECRETS OF STONE SERIES
(With Victoria Blue)
THE WILD BOYS OF SPECIAL FORCES
About Angel Payne
USA Today bestselling romance author Angel Payne has been reading and writing her entire life, though her love for romances began in junior high, when writing with friends on “swap stories” they’d trade between classes. Needless to say, those stories involved lots of angst, groping, drama, and French kissing.
She began getting a paycheck for her writing in her twenties, writing record reviews for a Beverly Hills-based dance music magazine. Some years, various entertainment industry gigs, and a number of years in the hospitality industry later, Angel returned to the thing she loves the most: creating character-based romantic fiction. Along the way, she also graduated with two degrees from Chapman University in Southern California, taking departmental honors for English, before writing five historical romances for Kensington and Bantam/Doubleday/Dell.
Angel found a true home in writing contemporary-based romances that feature high heat and high concepts, focusing on memorable alpha men and the women who tame them. She has numerous book series to her credit, including the Secrets of Stone series (with Victoria Blue), the Kinky Truth, the WILD Boys of Special Forces, and the popular Cimarron Saga, as well as its spin-off, the Temptation Court series.
Angel still lives in Southern California, where she is married to her soulmate and lives on a street that looks like Brigadoon, with their awesome daughter and Lady Claire, the dog with impeccable manners. When not writing, she enjoys reading, pop culture, alt rock, cute shoes, enjoying the outdoors, and being a gym rat.
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The Sentinel
A London Mob Novella
by Michelle St. James
Chapter One
Diana Barrett forced herself not to glance at the time on her computer. Logic told her not more than five minutes had passed since she’d last checked, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. It was worse than she thought.
Three minutes.
She took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders and tried to refocus on the list of wire transfers in front of her. It was always like this when she was meeting Leo, but that didn’t make it any less insane. She’d known him most of her life, since year five at St. Ives Primary when he’d helped her up from a game of tag that turned unexpectedly rough. She could still see him in her mind’s eye, a tall, gangly boy with soulful brown eyes and unkempt hair that fell over his forehead. On the outside, they couldn’t have been more different.
She liked him immediately.
She didn’t remember how they’d come to be friends, but one day she realized that it had been a very long time since she hadn’t sat with Leo at lunch, since he hadn’t been her companion in a game of conkers. Since seeing him hadn’t been the highlight of every day.
And then, all at once it seemed, he wasn’t lanky, awkward Leo anymore. He was tall and broad, with wide shoulders, a deep voice, and a fierce expression of protection wherever Diana was concerned. They were in their final year of high school when she noticed that he’d become a man, but by then it was too late to change the fact that he was her best friend. She went off to university. Leo took a series of entry level jobs that eventually led him to an executive position at Global Media. They spent summers together when she was home from school, falling back into their old patterns of long days on the beach, chowder on the waterfront when the sun went down, hours spent laying under an inky sky strung with stars.
He was a self made man, unlike Diana, who had every advantage, including worldly, attentive parents on the affluent side of middle class. But he was her Leo, and she thought about him every single day. Now they were adults, both with busy schedules that involved a lot of business travel, but still they managed to coordinate schedules to meet in cities all over the world.
And she got nervous every single time.
She dared a glance at the clock and was relieved to find that she’d spent fifteen minutes lost in her memories of Leo. She logged out of her computer — standard protocol at Abbott, a small but wealthy bank known for its discretion— and grabbed her bag, then rose from her chair and headed to the restroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, she tried to tame her wild curls, then gave up and let them have their way. Leo always said he liked her hair, and anyway, there was no help for it; she’d inherited the unruly mop from her mother’s ancestors. She touched up her makeup, grateful for her dark eyelashes and good bone structure. She had her father’s DNA and all its classic English features to thank for that one. She finished with a swipe of sheer berry lip stain, closed her bag, and headed back to her desk. She was halfway down the hall when she spotted Maggie’s open office door.
“You’re alive,” Diana said, poking her head into the plush office.
Maggie Kinsley had been Diana’s mentor since the day she’d plucked Maggie from an internship program during university. She was one of the smartest women Diana had ever known. Chic and formidable, she’d raised her seventeen-year-old son on her own and was the first woman to become a Vice President at Abbott. Diana didn’t know yet if she wanted a career at the bank, but it was nice to know she could have one, and even nicer to know Maggie would be there to guide her along the way, whatever life she chose for herself.
Maggie looked up from her computer with a tired smile. She was as thin as a school girl, with an open face and wide blue eyes. It wasn’t at all difficult to imagine her as an ambitious young woman making her way in the male-dominated banking industry of the 1990s.
“I know,” she said. “It’s ridiculous how busy I’ve been, isn’t it?”
Diana smiled. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks.”
“I suppose so.” She leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes as she took in Diana’s newly freshened appearance. “I take it you’re seeing Leo?”
“I’d ask how you know, but I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that you know everything.”
“Hardly.”
Any other day, the word would have been accompanied by laughter, but there was something resigned and tense in the way she said it now. It drew Diana’s attention to the dark circles under her friend’s eyes, the stern set of her jaw, usually reserved for business rivals.
“You okay, Mags?” Diana was careful about using the nickname at the office. She never wanted to overstep, or to use her friendship with Diana to unfairly further her career. And she definitely didn’t want anyone else in the office to become resentful of their relationship. Bu
t she couldn’t help herself. How long had Maggie looked this tired? Had Diana been so wrapped up in her own life that she hadn’t noticed Maggie needed a week on a tropical beach with an umbrella drink in hand?
“You look like you could use a holiday,” Diana said.
Something faltered on Maggie’s face, and for a split second, Diana thought she might actually confide in her. She didn’t do it often — she was a woman who prided herself on independence in all things — but every now and then she would open up to Diana about Evan, her son, her plans for the future, the loneliness that plagued her so rarely that it passed before she ever found the motivation to do anything about it.
It was gone a moment later, Maggie’s usual cool facade taking the place of the indecision Diana could have sworn she saw a moment before.
“Nonsense,” Maggie said. “There’s too much work for a holiday.”
“That’s what you always say.” Diana didn’t buy the change of subject, but the time wasn’t right for a long conversation about life. She would convince Maggie to go out for drinks soon, come clean about what was bothering her.
“Because it’s always true,” Maggie said. “And I have a birthday supper to cook for Evan this weekend. You will be there, won’t you?”
“With bells on,” Diana said. Evan was an unusually wise, witty kid who was currently number three in his class at Newton Prep. “I haven’t seen him since Christmas.”
“He’ll be happy to see you,” Maggie said, “although I’m beginning to suspect all this talk about me serves only to avoid talking about Leo.”
Diana smiled. “Nothing to say.”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “At least be honest with yourself, my dear. Otherwise you might find thirty years of your life gone by. You might even go home to a cushy flat with no more company than a bottle of wine and a cat.”