by Cathryn Cade
As the sun set in peach-and-saffron splendor, the Ho’omalu men joined each other on the outer edge of the upper lanai.
Malu’s grandfather, stooped with age, shook his head. “I don’t envy you, my mo’opuna kāne—my grandsons, with the problems Hawaii faces. In my day, we had fewer of these foul drugs. Even you, Homu and Hilo, did not face such lā’au ‘ino.”
His sons and grandsons nodded grimly as they looked down over the mountain. In Kona town below, lights were beginning to twinkle on, and beyond, the sea gleamed silver in the dusk.
“There will always be problems for our island, Kupuna Kāne,” David said. “But we Ho’omalus will always be here, watching over her.”
Daniel stood by his side, shoulder to shoulder.
“Those problems will be back very soon,” he predicted, striking his fist against his hard abdomen. “I can feel it here in my gut, maka’u na’au.”
His grandfather turned to him. “Perhaps soon it will be your time to join the battle,” he said. “I know you are angry that David faced danger without you.”
Daniel bared his teeth in a fierce smile. “Next time, I’ll be waiting,” he rumbled. “Like Ukanipo, the shark god, I’ll strike before they even see me coming.”
From the doorway of the big house, Melia watched the group of men with admiration and awe. From the outside, she realized, even other Hawaiians saw a big, tightly knit family, prosperous and happy, who lived ‘olu’olu in big houses, and who cared fiercely about their traditions and the well-being of their island.
She was one of the few people on the island, and on the earth, who knew that the Ho’omalus were much, much more.
And now she was one of them, in a way. She still wasn’t sure what the future held for her and Malu. They’d known each other only a week, after all. She knew that, as swiftly and unbelievably as it had happened, she loved him, and he loved her. They still had so much to learn about each other, which was supposed to happen before they got pregnant and married, but it seemed, in their case, things would happen on Pele’s time, not their own.
But if there was one thing Melia had realized, it was this—a woman could trust her heart and soul to a man like David Ho’omalu. After all, she’d watched him give his own life for others. Easy-going and calm, he’d kept the knowledge to himself, but she realized now that Malu had to have known that he might die on that heiau, or at least be horribly wounded. And even though Pele had healed him, he’d still gone willingly through the agony of multiple gunshot wounds and falling into the volcano’s terrible fire.
But to preserve the secrecy of the Ho’omalus and to make sure the drugs were truly destroyed, he’d kept everyone else away. He hadn’t reckoned on her trying to save him, had thought she and Keone were well out of the firefight.
He’d sworn he would never again allow her anywhere near trouble. Melia was sure he’d try, and most of the time, she’d let him have his way. But not all the time, because that just wasn’t good for any man, even a hero.
November 27, Kona Old Town
Melia shifted in her chair, comfortably lazy in the sunshine. Stretching her feet out before her, she tilted her big straw hat to shade her face from the sun and smoothed her other hand over her belly, round and taut under her ocean-blue silk sundress. Around her, tourists chatted and ate at their tables on the café lanai while crowds strolled along the sidewalk a few feet away. Behind her, the café stretched into a row of galleries and shops.
She looked down, smiling as the baby moved. As she stroked her belly, she admired the huge ruby on her finger. It sparkled in the sun, along with the diamonds that surrounded it, sending tiny rainbows of light shivering on the tall glass of herb tea at her elbow. “Pele’s Fire”, Malu had named the ring. He’d designed it himself with the help of a local jeweler. Of course Melia had final approval, but she wouldn’t change a thing. Every time she looked at it, she was reminded of his love and of the island’s patroness, watching over them.
“Melia?” The incredulous male voice brought her out of her contented relaxation. She looked up and blinked at the handsome, sunburned man staring at her from the sidewalk, his mouth hanging open slightly.
“Grant.” Her former boyfriend carried a shopping bag and a buxom brunette hanging on his other arm. She looked familiar. Of course the last time Melia had seen her, she’d been naked. “Here on vacation?” Melia asked politely.
“Uh—yeah,” Grant said. “But what are you doing here?”
She smiled at him, enjoying the moment. “I live here now.” When she’d gone home to pack up her things and say good-bye to her coworkers at Greenwood, she’d realized from their avid expressions everyone had heard about Grant’s new girlfriend. They’d been shocked to hear that Melia not only was not heartbroken, but that she was marrying someone else and moving to Hawaii. She was surprised no one had gotten on the phone to make sure Grant knew.
“Oh, cooking at one of the resorts?” he asked, relaxing into a patronizing smile.
“No. I only cook for my family and friends these days,” she said. “Of course, I’m still a professional too. You may have heard my blog won a national award last month for best new cooking blog.”
She could see by the veiled look in his eyes he had indeed heard. Then his gaze dropped to her belly, and widened. “Ah—you’re—you’re—” He broke off inarticulately, his face red.
“Pregnant?” she asked. “Yes, I am. It’s his.”
She indicated Malu, who had emerged from the gallery next to the restaurant and stood behind her chair, his large, warm hand on her shoulder. She could see from the look on Grant’s face that her husband’s expression was probably not warm and friendly.
“My husband, David Ho’omalu,” she said. Grant stepped back, towing his brunette who looked, predictably, slightly stunned. Melia merely smiled, used to the effect her husband had on women, and to his complete lack of interest. She’d had time now to accept the fact that he was crazy about her and her alone.
“Yeah. Nice to see you, Melia,” Grant mumbled. “Bye.” He strode off, the brunette trotting to keep up.
“Have a nice vacation, you two,” Melia called after them. And she meant it. Grant hadn’t chosen the best way to break up with her, but he wasn’t the scum she’d thought him at first, either. She simply hadn’t been the right woman for him, any more than he’d been the right man for her.
Her husband helped her out of her chair, a proprietary arm around her as they walked along the boardwalk in front of the shops.
“Some old friends? You forgot to introduce me,” he said.
She shrugged. “No one you’d want to know, kāne nohea.”
He smiled back at her. “I love it when you talk dirty to me, pua.”
She blinked, saying the words to herself again, and then narrowed her eyes at him. “I called you my handsome husband. That is not dirty talk.”
He looked disappointed. “Oh. I thought you said…” He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“David!” Her eyes widened in shock. He laughed, giving her a hug before urging her on along the sidewalk.
“Come on, pua, let’s go home and I’ll teach you some more.”
She could hardly wait.
About the Author
Cathryn Cade lives in the Pacific Northwest with her tall, handsome husband and a golden retriever named Buddy. She loves to read and write romance, cook with fresh seafood and take long trips to Hawaii. She has been writing romance since she can remember, and is thrilled that she can now include her favorite islands in her stories.
Please visit her at:
www.cathryncade.com
www.twitter.com/CathrynCade
cathryncadesblog.blogspot.com
www.facebook.com/cathryncade.author
www.samhainpublishing.com/authors/cathryn-cade
Look for these titles by Cathryn Cade
Now Available:
Orion
Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bryght
Her Commander
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Prince of Dragons
Deep Indigo
His beast will have her beauty…but only on his terms.
Prince of Dragons
© 2010 Cathryn Cade
Orion, Book 3
Sirena Blaze has left a string of smiling males across the galaxy—but she’s not smiling now. After two attempts to sabotage her ship, it’s time to call for backup. Her warriors deserve the best, and that means recruiting a member of the elite Serpentian guard as co-commander.
One look at Slyde Stone, and Sirena’s smile returns. She sets out to indulge in the sensual delights for which his people are legendary.
Slyde would like nothing more than to bed the famous beauty, but a secret binds the hands that burn to take her. He is a half-dragon shifter, a race thought to be nothing more than a myth. He’s real, and so is the code he must live by—he can mate only once.
Sirena’s fury at Slyde’s refusal knows no bounds—until saboteurs loose a pair of deadly serpents on board the Orion. And the infuriating man has the gall to make a wager. If she finds them first, she can have him. But if he wins, she must agree to be his alone—for life.
Warning: Space cougar on the prowl, a handsome virgin in her sights. Hot love scenes, and even hotter dragon shape-shifting.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Prince of Dragons:
Sirena looked down at the naked male straining beneath her and smiled. She might be a siren, but she led males not to disaster, but to pleasure greater than many of them had ever known. And this one wouldn’t forget her any time soon.
“Ah, gods,” he groaned, his hands clamped on her hips as she rode him with sinuous abandon, letting his cock slide nearly out of her before enveloping it once again. His pleasure-glazed eyes were locked with hers. Sweat soaked his short dark hair and gleamed on his skin, enhancing the play of muscle beneath. “That’s so damn good! You are…unbelievable.”
Since he was approaching his third orgasm, she chose to believe him. She herself was far ahead of that number. She supposed this would be his last effort—human males were lucky to be able to achieve arousal more than twice in such a short time.
She rose and fell on him, closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation of the shaft working inside her, stroking her tight channel. Tipping back her head, she lifted her arms and twined them behind her head, knowing that the motion thrust her breasts out more prominently.
Her com-link beeped a tiny warning in her ear. She ignored it as the pilot surged upward, filling his hands with her breasts and suckling greedily on her nipples.
“Mmm, yes. Like that.” The pleasure began to tighten inside her, and she rode harder, feeling her orgasm begin.
Her com-link beeped again. Protocol demanded that whoever was paging her wait for an answer before opening a holo-vid link. She hoped for their sake they abided by the rules, because any commander who opened a link now was going to get an eyeful.
A hologram sprang up in sharp relief against the shadowed stateroom. It was Slyde Stone, watching her ride the other man. His stance was rigid, jaw clenched, his eyes flaming with such heat she was vaguely surprised her skin didn’t burn.
In the two lunar months they’d been working together, they’d been through a major crisis, trained new guards and improved the quality of security on the Orion. And through it all, the heat of desire hadn’t faded, and he still refused to act on it.
Her gasp of shock caught in her throat and, as their eyes held, it became a soft, escalating moan as she climaxed harder than she had all night, pleasure imploding deep within her pussy and then exploding outward through her body. Her co-commander’s voyeurism was as delicious as the cock inside her.
By the time she finally managed to open her pleasure-drugged eyes, he was gone.
A short time later Sirena stepped outside the pilot’s stateroom and stopped short, startled to see her co-commander of the Serpentian guard walking toward her. Walk—such a colorless word to describe the way he moved. He strode, he prowled like the magnificent male creature he was. His tall, heavily muscled body erect and graceful, his beautifully shaped head held high, he surveyed her with narrowed eyes.
His sculpted jaw was still clenched, his nostrils flared. Pushing back her hair, she eyed him cautiously. Great serpents, he wasn’t embarrassed. He was furious.
Perhaps it would teach him a lesson. He could have been the male groaning with pleasure beneath her.
Her own body hummed with satisfaction. She’d left her latest lover sprawled across the bed in the stateroom behind her. He wouldn’t wake for a long time, but when he did, it would be with a smile. As she recalled some of the things he’d done to her and with her, the corners of her mouth curled up with satisfaction.
If she’d sighed, feeling detached even as he groaned his eternal devotion, that was no one’s business but her own. As was the fact she’d come most deliciously of all with Slyde watching them.
“Commander Stone,” she said now, ignoring the way his narrow gaze made her want to touch her flight suit to see if it smoldered. Even after coming several times in the last hours, she still felt the usual low curl of desire at his nearness. But she’d resolved from the beginning that she wouldn’t hang on his sleeve. That was for dewy-eyed ingénues. Let the great beast tell her what was wrong, if he wished.
Otherwise, she was headed straight for a hot shower-dry.
Slyde berated himself in savage silence. What had he been thinking to confront Sirena here outside her lover’s door? Nothing coherent, that was certain. Since the instant he first saw her, he’d been thinking mostly with his cock.
After he’d refused her in the bar that first night, he’d seen the fighter pilot preen himself before her. Had known how it would end when the fellow swaggered out of the bar after her. And he’d watched the scene repeated several times in the last two months. The lovely, sensual Sirena was a typical Serpentian, sharing her body with any male she chose. And he was nearing the end of his patience. He’d done his best to show her how well they got along as they trained, planned and worked together, had even resorted to showing off in sparring. But still she turned to other men.
Tonight, he’d overridden a prime rule of courtesy on board ship and opened a com-link between them. He bitterly regretted his decision. Because now he had to do more than imagine the things she allowed her lovers to do to her—the things he dreamed of doing to her, with her, himself.
Now he’d seen her. Her lovely body naked, kneeling astride another male, riding him with perfect, sensual grace. Had seen the other man’s hands on the taut swell of her ass, his mouth on the perfect globes of her breasts.
Now he knew her skin was the same silken gold over her entire body, save for the dusky peach of her nipples and the delicate line of auburn that limned her mons. Knew how those scant curls looked soaked with another man’s seed, how the pink lips of her labia stretched taut around another man’s glistening cock as he drove it in and out of her.
Now he knew her soft, escalating moans as she enjoyed her orgasm. And the look in her eyes as she came, because their eyes had locked and he’d been unable to break away, drowning in those emerald depths.
Controlling his anger with a supreme effort, he stopped before her. Her golden cheeks were flushed, emerald eyes sleepy, her auburn mane tousled. Even the collar of her sleek top was crooked, which she would never allow on duty. It was obvious she’d just come from her lover’s arms. Arms that Slyde wanted to rip off and feed to the bastard.
He grimaced as her fragrances mingled with the stench of another male ripped at his sensitive olfactory glands like rotting Pangaean fruit.
She raised an arching brow at him.
“Commander?” she asked in her throaty voice. “Are you well?”
“That’s a question I might ask you,” he answered, his deep voice as rough as mountain stones grating together. “Were the answer not so obvious.”
She straightened, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Merely that
a shower-dry is in order. You reek of your lover’s sweat.”
“Commander Stone. You forget yourself.”
“Forget?” he sneered. “I’m not the one who has lain with too many lovers to remember.”
She drew in a hiss of pure rage, her emerald eyes going molten.
Good—let her have a taste of the frustrated rage he’d been battling since he laid eyes on her and realized that here was the woman of his dreams—his fervid, tormenting dreams—and that she would never be his… unless she agreed to his terms, which she was unlikely to do. Why should she, when she could enjoy any male she chose, for as long as she chose, instead of pledging herself to just one?
“I presume you had an important reason for following me?” she asked with dangerous softness. “And for spying on me?”
“It will wait,” he bit out.
He’d come on this voyage to look for a woman—a far different kind of woman. The kind who’d saved herself for marriage and who was chaste. Instead, he’d taken one look across that hellhole of a bar on Solaria and fallen like a space rock for this beauty, a warrior who could fell a man as easily with a kick or a look—and did both with regularity.
He turned his back on her before she could reply and before he could do what he really wanted: throw her over his shoulder, carry her off to his quarters and toss her in his shower-dry until she’d been through three or more cleaning cycles. And then…imprint his own touch and scent on her, so thoroughly she would never want another.
Slamming through an open hatchway, he raced down one of the many small spiral staircases, not caring where it led as long as it was away from her and what he wanted of her.
How far into darkness will he go to reclaim the light?
Interview with a Gargoyle
© 2011 Jennifer Colgan