Owning Swan

by Blake, Carter

  Owning Swan

  Carter Blake

  Copyright © 2018 by Carter Blake

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The story of becoming beautiful isn't about the ugly duckling becoming a swan; it is about the ugly duckling realizing it was a swan all along.

  Leta Greene

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  More Naughty Beasts & Filthy Princes

  PREVIEW: Saving Red

  PREVIEW: The Nanny and the Beast

  PREVIEW: Thunderstruck

  PREVIEW: Pretend to be Mine

  PREVIEW: Hot Takeover

  About the Author

  Also by Carter Blake

  Chapter 1

  Quinn

  “All I’m saying is, you need to drop the moody shit and go out and have some actual fun,” Derek says.

  As usual, his advice isn’t welcome or helpful, but I nod along anyway because if I protest, he and the rest of my brothers will make me miserable for the rest of the night. I make use of the beer in front of me, and gulp down the contents of my glass in one swallow.

  It’s not that I don’t appreciate their candor or doubt that they want what’s best for me. But as with most things, despite having their hearts in the right place, following their prescribed course of action would only give me grief.

  “Dude, seriously,” Tate says, shooting up from his seat. He gets excited about things and then throws his full weight behind them. “How long has it been since you’ve picked up a girl?”

  “You’re gonna want to sit down before you ask dangerous questions like that,” Killian says. He’s cradling this watered-down whiskey that he gets because he thinks it sets him apart from the rest of us, the simple beer-chugging folk. “I bet it’s been long enough for his hymen to grow back.”

  They all laugh, and I grunt, throwing a look at them that would terrify most men.

  “Oh, Quinnie, come on.” Killian pats me on the back. “Your big brother made a funny. Get that chuckle out now. You know you want to.”

  “If he laughs,” Derek says, “then it’ll be like he agrees with you. And Quinnie is too proud for that.”

  Another round of laughter. This time, they’re giggling like fucking school girls.

  And they question my manhood?

  “And you all wonder why I don’t come out with you more,” I mutter, taking another swig. As it happens, the glass is empty, so I look even more like a jackass.

  Let’s get one thing straight - I’m not a fucking virgin. I just don’t work the same way as the rest of them.

  Here’s the thing about my brothers: they don’t process much more than the basic human needs. They get hungry, thirsty, hot, cold, horny - but that’s about it. And they address those needs when the situation arises, and then they’re back to coasting along. I come out with them at least once a month because they’re all I’ve got. Our DNA is as far as our common ground goes.

  Derek is happily married, though you’d never know from hearing his locker room talk. Tate’s exhausted the town’s dating pool, and now he’s working his way up to the moms of the girls he’s dated - or just slept with, as is the case with most of them. And Killian - well, Killian might be talking this big game, but he keeps giving his phone furtive glances when he thinks none of us are looking. Some chick named Mandy has his undivided attention during those precious seconds.

  But they do have a point. I haven’t been laid in months.

  “Well?” Killian prods. “Aren’t you going to answer? Defend yourself?”

  “Against what, the opinion of a bunch of assholes?” I say, taking his drink. I stand up because Killian’s five-ten stature is nothing to my six-foot-four inches. That gets a rise out of Derek and Tate, who live to see Killian lose his cool.

  Killian is quick to his feet, trying to get his bottom-shelf crap back. “Give that back.”

  “Sit the hell down.” I glare pointedly at his seat. After a few seconds of grandstanding, he does. “Good boy,” I say, taking a mouthful before handing his beverage back to him. It burns in my mouth, as only the cheap liquor Killian favors could.

  “Asshole,” he says. “You drank half of it. You’re paying for the next.”

  “Killian, the owner of this dump is going to start paying you for getting rid of that shit for him.” The bitter aftertaste sticks to my throat, so I look around the table to see whose drink I’ll steal next.

  “I’ve gotta side with Quinnie, that shit is foul,” Derek says. “Quinnie, go get us another pitcher, won’t you?”

  “Get it yourself.” But I’m almost doing just that. They’re all so lazy and entitled that they’ll wait it out - unless the thirst wins out, that is. As I said, they’re all driven by their primal urges.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Tate says, a conspiratorial expression materializing on his face. “We’ll lay off you if you go.”

  “Nah,” Derek says. “Not worth it. I’ll get my own damn beer and keep making Quinn squirm-”

  Tate holds up a hand in Derek’s general direction. His eyes don’t leave me, that same wicked glint clouding them. I can tell that whatever he’s about to say next is going to cost me.

  Damn it, I think. I should’ve just taken care of it before one of them saw and took the opportunity to bait me.

  “I propose that to buy his own freedom and dignity, Quinn has to go get the next round and agree to a bet.” That gets a smirk out of both Derek and Killian. “Let’s see…”

  Shit. We don’t wager bets with each other often, and we avoid Tate’s like the plague. He has a sadistic mind and will lay out something outrageous. He reserves his perverse sense of humor for the punishment if you lose a bet.

  If I say no straightaway, it’ll only encourage Killian and Tate to do worse. If I participate, I’m almost guaranteed to regret it.

  “I know,” Derek says, flashing me a devilish grin. “Quinn here is going to break the virginal streak tonight.”

  Why didn’t I stay in tonight?

  My knee aches and it’d been flaring up for a week. It always does when the weather turns cold suddenly. Or when it’s about to rain. They would’ve accepted that excuse, no problem. If there was one topic my brothers held sacred, it was my injury.

  “We aren’t in high school anymore. My sex life is none of your damn business,” I snap.

  “It is tonight. Unless, of course, you mean to forfeit,” Tate says, grinning. “In which case, we hold the right to dole out punishment as we see fit.”

  “For it to be a forfeit, I would’ve had to agree to the bet in the first place.”

  “Quinn, just give up.” Killian wolfs down the remainder of that disgusting whiskey of his, scrunching his face as it goes down his throat. “We’re doing this for your own good.”

  It’s no use arguing with them. It really isn’t. In the past two years, I’ve stopped fighting things I can’t control. My knee getting in the way of my career. The fact that my brilliant future dulled considerably. The shitty prospects I had in town. The sinking realization that this - my life now - was it.

  I’d continue on this path for another thirty or
forty years and retire if I could afford it, or keep working my dead-end job until I dropped dead.

  It’s easier just to accept things. Besides, maybe there would be a way out of the bet on a technicality or a loophole that wouldn’t make fulfilling it too much of a hassle. Or cost me any more of my self-respect.

  I sigh. “Fine.”

  “Continue, Derek,” Tate says. “Let’s see if your offering is worthy of an official Cooper throwdown.”

  “It’s simple. Quinn here has to find a woman and win her over. Pop her cherry.”

  I slam my fist against the table. “If you keep bringing up that virginity bullshit, I’m outta here.” Where’s the damn beer? If nothing else, they could get on with it so I could get up and get the pitcher.

  “Touchy, touchy,” Killian says. To Derek, he adds, “I like that. Simple. Elegant.”

  “Effective,” Tate says. “And before you look at us like we’re force-feeding Killian’s atrocious whiskey down your throat, remember, we’re your older brothers, and we love you. You can’t even remember what a naked chick looks like. An intervention is necessary.”

  They’re all nodding ahead like a string of pigeons bobbing up and down on a dangling power line.

  “Shit, fine,” I say.

  “Wait, what happens if he doesn’t follow through?” Killian doesn’t know how to keep his cool. Tate is so invested in this that he wouldn’t think to set the losing terms.

  I’m not worried about not succeeding. It’s not the point. But I wanted to ride it out and bullshit my way out of having my brothers sticking their nose into what happens in my bedroom.

  “Good question. Every bet should be balanced and fair. We don’t want to put you down, Quinnie, so if you lose, it won’t be the end of the world.” Tate winks. “Killian, since you insisted on the stakes, your fate is tied to Quinn’s. If he doesn’t seal the deal, you’re banned from ever bringing the mom squad to an outing with any of us.”

  Interesting. On the one hand, if I lose the bet, I will never hear the end of it. But it would almost be worth it to throw the whole thing just to get a pass from seeing Killian grope a cougar.

  Killian groans while Tate gives another Cheshire grin. He’s practically giddy.

  “They’re not moms, they’re-”

  “Sophisticated women,” we finish in unison.

  “Dude, it’s weird. However this ends, we’ve done our job and set at least one of you straight, I can’t think of anything better,” Derek says, high-fiving Tate.

  “But why is it something of mine? This bet is for Quinn. If he loses, why should I pay for it?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Killian, it’s like you don’t remember Quinn snatching all those girls out from under - well, over you in high school,” Tate says, chuckling at his height joke.

  At that, I have to laugh. I can say what I want about Tate, but he’s never a bad time when he’s picking on someone else.

  “Hey, let’s not lose track of what’s important here. Quinn, now you know the terms,” Derek says, and Tate joins in on the background with a horrible attempt at a drumroll. “Do you accept?”

  “That’s it? Sleep with a girl, and you’ll get off my back? Sure.” I nod at the pitcher. “Can I get us another round now?”

  “Of course, that’s not it,” Tate says, enunciating that last word with heavy sarcasm. “Who do you take us for? Noobs? No. You left out the part where it has to be tonight.”

  More pigeon head-bobbing from the three of them.

  “What?” I say. I look around and signal for them to do the same. “There are, like, three chicks in this place, and they’re all-”

  I’m not going to say they’re ugly, because it’s not true and, more importantly, that’s not the point. I didn’t need their help when it came to my sex life, and I didn’t want them to leer if I went over to any girls. It would come across as a prank - which, fair enough, that’s what it is. But this was my burden. I wouldn’t make any of those girls my brothers’ laughingstock.

  “Yeah, they’re not the prettiest,” Tate agreed, after scanning the dive himself. “But beggars can’t be choosers, and unless I see it with my own eyes, I won’t believe you’ve done your part. Since we only see you about once a month…” He shrugs, again with an air of mockery. “It’s tonight, or you go another month living like a priest.”

  “We only want what’s best for you,” Killian repeats. “And as the older members of this family, you should defer to us.”

  I look to Derek for sympathy. This was all his goddamn fault. Why couldn’t he have extended a bet that wouldn’t put me on the spot like this? He’s the oldest, and even if he does enjoy messing with Killian and me, the youngest of the four, I can usually count on him to be reasonable. This time, though, he shakes his head.

  “I don’t even care if you go home with the girl or not,” he says. “I just want to see you put yourself out there. Go live your life. And if you won’t do it on your own, we’ll use our influence to force you to.”

  “You’ll thank us later.” Tate holds out the pitcher. “Go get a good draft and we’ll review your options when you return.”

  I grab the cheap plastic thing from his hand and leave in a huff to the bar. My knee whines with the abrupt movement, yet another reminder that this night is going to tally up as a loss for me.

  The next time I feel hesitant about seeing the three of them, I’ll listen to my gut and avoid it. Let Derek and Tate focus their energies on Killian.

  I wait for Marty to take my order, my back to my brothers. I watch the door, zeroing in on the poster of me from my high school football days. What’s that doing there? It has to be a recent change in decor. Tate would’ve ended whoever had the gall to put that relic up if he’d noticed it, and since he’s a frequent flyer around these parts, it couldn’t have been up for long.

  Suddenly, a gorgeous woman steps inside. She’s tall. Almost as tall as Killian. The first things I notice are her legs, which go on for days. The kind of legs you want wrapped around you. And curvy in all the right places.

  Hot.

  She sees me checking her out. A brief bout of confusion takes over her face before she replaces it with a friendly smile. “Hi, Quinn.”

  It’s not weird for her to know me if she’s a local. I used to be a legend in this little patch of land we called home.

  But the fact that I don’t recognize her when she looks like that and seems to be my age is odd.

  “Hi.” I try to think of something to say that won’t offend her or reveal my shitty memory. “You…look good.”

  She bursts out laughing. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  “Of course I do,” I say. She stares, waiting for me to complete that with some verifiable tidbit. “No, I don’t.”

  “Abigail,” she says, holding out her hand. That’s not usually how girls greet me, but I take it. “Abigail Swan.”

  “And I’m-”

  She takes her hand back. “Quinn Cooper. I know. We went to high school together. Of course, you don’t remember me.” She takes a menu from the counter and waves, ready to retreat.

  Behind me, my merry band of asshole brothers cackle. I turn to see if they’re doing anything that’ll get us kicked out. They’re not.

  They’re staring at us, unable to control their sniggering.

  Abigail stiffens next to me. She glowers at me and then retreats to a dimly lit corner, picks up a menu, and starts reading it.

  Chapter 2

  Abigail

  Not even two days back in town and already I’m reminded of why I left. And there’s no better courier for an affirmation of the status quo than one of the Coopers. Lucky me, winning the jackpot and getting all four of them.

  To be fair, I never had a problem with Quinn. He was in a couple of my classes, but apparently, he doesn’t remember that. Which isn’t surprising, given that we never exchanged more than two words to each other in the four years we studied together. Or I could take it further back, to middl
e school. We did speak once or twice in elementary school, but that was eons ago. I’m not the kind of girl who got his attention back then.

  Or now.

  Nothing’s changed. His brothers certainly haven’t. They made my life a living hell in school. I only got a break during senior year, when all of them except for Quinn had graduated. Tate, in particular, was a piece of work. Just remembering the mean comments he’d tossed my way was enough to make my blood boil.

  I’ll eat and then leave. With any luck, that unfortunate greeting at the door is the extent of my misfortune where the Coopers were concerned.

  It’s hard to concentrate on which of the four greasy spoon items on the menu I’ll choose. I haven’t unpacked my cutlery yet, so I’ll have to eat while I’m here. Unless they pack a mean doggie bag, with all the utensils I’ll need to eat. Which, knowing this place, they don’t.

  Their din hasn’t died down yet. I concentrate on the laminated sheet that passes for a menu in front of me, narrowing my options to a cheeseburger or a salad. A cheeseburger could be messy to eat, especially in a hurry. It would have to be a salad, which I’ll inhale in a minute flat, and then be on my way.

  When I glance up, three of the Cooper brothers are gawking at me and laughing. The other one, Quinn, looks ready to dart out the door. But when he looks over at me, he quickly darts his gaze to another spot in the room.

  What did I do this time?

  Not that the Coopers needed a reason to make me miserable. It seemed to be their nature. But still, just talking to Quinn is enough to rile up the ridicule that floats across the room.

  I glance back at the menu. Anywhere but at the men who are a reminder of why I left this damn town in the first place.