Resisting Velocity

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Resisting Velocity Page 18

by Trinity Evans; Xoe Xanders


  “It’s only been a week.”

  “You say that like a week isn’t forever and a half.”

  “Quit being so dramatic. The doctor said two weeks of rest minimum. You’re just lucky that your werewolf abilities took care of the worst of it.”

  The heartfelt moan he gave forced a laugh out of Charlie and she snuggled closer to him, knowing exactly where she could touch to avoid causing him any additional pain. She’d been his caretaker for a week, after all. “I have a surprise for you,” she said.

  “Oh yeah? Does it involve whipped cream and—”

  “Ahem! We came at the just right time, didn’t we?” A shadow arced from the bedroom doorway as Micah, Benji, Parker, and Conner strode through and Charlie smiled and waved them into the room. She glanced at Zane and shook her head, a grin creeping across her face at the tint of pink coloring his cheeks.

  “Nope, now’s perfect. He’s about ready to climb the walls. I’ll leave you guys alone for awhile to catch up on…man things.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “Aw, Charlie you can stay. No one else has any cleavage worth ogling.”

  “Can it, Parker.”

  With that, Charlie sashayed out the door, her smile growing as she heard Parker ask Zane, “Are you sure you can handle her, man? She’s suddenly a firecracker.”

  She planted herself in her throne chair, rescued from her trailer and placed in the corner of Zane’s living room, next to an ample bookshelf. She cracked open a book, but glanced up again when Conner sat down on the far end of the couch.

  “Aren’t you going to visit?”

  “Nah, I came to talk to you. They’ve got music stuff to figure out and I have security stuff to figure out.”

  “Stuff? Such technical terms from you, Conner. I’m proud.”

  “Yeah yeah. Just thought you should know, Lola’s pleading guilty. I saw her earlier this week.” He whistled low. “The girl’s snapped. I don’t know if her wolf’s gone feral and is running the show, but she’s a loose cannon.”

  According to the police, the gun Lola had threatened them with—and the gun whose bullets matched the one that ended Jeremy Meyer’s life—was stolen from one of High Velocity’s ex-members of security, a human named Bud Hopkins. Bud had popped up the night of Lola’s attack and spun a tale ten miles long about how she had seduced him. The police and the press believed him, but when Charlie had told Zane that, he’d laughed. “Seduced my ass. Bud’s lying. I fired the guy during the tour when I couldn’t find you and he didn’t seem to give a damn. He and Lola were probably in cahoots the whole time.”

  But even if that was true, it didn’t really matter. The gun was impounded by the police, Lola was going to jail, and Bud was miles away by now. Parker had slipped him a little hush money to keep him from talking up the press and that was the last they’d heard. Problem solved.

  “Thanks, that eases my mind.”

  Conner blew out a breath. “And I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I failed you and Zane and it could’ve been a disaster. Hell, it was a disaster. I’d completely understand if you wanted your job back.”

  “Whoa, back it up there. How were we supposed to think to do background checks on groupies? We’d be up to our eyes if every fan we let backstage had to give us their criminal history.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Relax. I’ll be with the guys when they go on their next tour and I know they’ll want you there. I’m sure this won’t happen again. We’ve been lucky as hell that the publicity on this mess has been next to nothing. You did the best you could and it turned out fine. We’re alive, right?”

  “You know, boss lady? You’re all right.”

  “Boss lady?”

  “Yep, it’s what we always called you behind your back.” Conner looked a little sheepish at that.

  “Charming.”

  “Take it as a compliment. My last boss had a nickname that’s too shocking to say in front of you. Now, if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to get an early start on my vacation. I’m about ready to kill for a couple months of doing nothing—absolutely nothing at all.”

  “Sure. I’ll tell everyone you said your farewell. We’ll be in touch when we need you.”

  “Great. Be safe. I mean it.” Conner practically bolted from the house and Charlie laughed. She’d felt exactly the same way about midway through the tour—and now she had signed up to be a rock star’s wife. Funny how such a short amount of time could change your mind so much.

  About an hour later, her peace was fractured as the other guys sauntered back into the living room. “Well, Char-babe, we’re off to see the world. Welcome home, freedom!”

  Placing her book face-down on the arm of her chair, she stood and gave Parker a quick hug, grinning at the surprised look that flitted across his face. “So where to, guys?”

  “C’mon now, you don’t get to grill me anymore.”

  “Parker.”

  “Well I don’t know about these tools, but I’m staying local. I need to catch up on my video games and my Youtube. Besides, Elysium is home.” He shrugged.

  Charlie moved to Micah and grasped both of his forearms, squeezing gently. “Be safe. Keep in touch.”

  He stared at her intently for a moment and she met his gaze, not backing down an inch. Then the side of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “You treat him right. I’ll be back in a month or so.”

  “A month?”

  The answering shrug from Micah had Charlie turning to Benji. She hesitated for a moment before wrapping him in a tight hug, a little surprised at the warm return embrace. She moved back from him and brushed dark hair out of his face. “Benj…”

  “It’s okay, Char. I’m headed out to places unseen. I need a little alone time after the hellacious mess that was our tour. The next album isn’t going to write itself, you know.”

  “You could stay around here. Stay at Zane’s place with us?”

  “Nah, you two are nauseating.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You don’t need to say anything, just be happy. I’ll be back before you know it and then we’ll go on a run, just like old times.”

  “Sure.” Charlie fought off the hint of sadness, knowing he’d be back. They’d all be back. These goodbyes weren’t forever. “I’ll miss you guys.”

  Then Zane’s barked from down the hall, “Hey, get your own woman and give me back mine! I’m the one stuck in this bed,” and she rolled her eyes.

  “That’s our cue to run for it. Good luck with him—you’re going to need it,” Benji said, releasing Charlie with a quick kiss to her cheek. He waved at Micah and Parker, urging them towards the door. “We’ll let ourselves out. Bye!”

  Charlie stood there and watched them go, waving one last goodbye before heaving a sigh. She spun on her heel and strode down the hall. In the doorway, she stopped and cut Zane a glare, her hands planted on her hips. “You were rude.”

  “Yeah, well they were taking too long hugging you.”

  “Jealous hen.”

  “Damn straight. Now come give us a kiss, my pretty.”

  Charlie laughed, moving around the bed to take up the same position as before, and she pressed her lips to his in a chaste kiss. “I love you.”

  “Mmm, I love you too. Show me how much?”

  “You know what the doctor said.”

  “Baby, you’ve got to stop resisting temptation. I promise you won’t kill me.”

  “Well…” She paused, contemplating.

  “I dare you.”

  “What are you, twelve?”

  “Nope. I’m your lover, your mate, and if I get my way, soon I’ll be your husband.”

  “So this is happily ever after?”

  His smile was radiant, dazzling, Zane: “Baby, this is just chapter one.”

  ###

  About The Authors

  Trinity Evans is an upbeat, slightly off-color author with a wild imagination and a taste for the eclectic. Born and raised in a small-t
own Americana, she loves the lighter and fluffier side of life with some paranormal spice thrown in. She definitely enjoys the more comical side of relationships. She adores hearing from fans and you can find her at trinityevans.wordpress.com.

  Xoe Xanders is a quirky small-town punk princess whose ideas range from dark and dangerous to light and fluffy. She enjoys writing in the vein of paranormal, fantasy, and soft sci-fi, all of it with a romantic edge. She believes that love is love—no matter what gender, race, or color—and writes both straight and LBGT romance. Wanna stalk her? You can find her site at xoexanders.wordpress.com

  ###

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  ###

  For more sizzling shifter romance, try…

  Bending Steele

  by Sadie Hart

  Chapter One

  Steele slipped down from the icy slope, the wicked glint of a blade wrapped in one hand. The mountains were thick with cats, snow leopards slinking down from the mottled white cliffs. Several were already in human form as they gathered in the valley below, herded together like cattle. Steele held back, watching, waiting.

  She’d been Marked.

  Claimed.

  And that galled her. Curious, she crouched on an overhanging ledge, her small dagger pressed against her calf, one outstretched hand laid bare against the snowy edge. She wanted to see the man who’d staked his claim on her this year. He wouldn’t be the first, but damn it, maybe if she made a big enough example out of this one, he’d be the last.

  She had no interest in finding a mate. She’d seen where that led. More dangerous than any of the ice slick mountains in the Himalayas. Hearts were too easily broken and Steele preferred hers frozen. Protected. Love made people vulnerable, it left them open for hurt and betrayal. She’d seen it once, she wasn’t about to let it happen to her.

  A cold blast of wind ruffled the thick hood of her parka as Steele leaned over the edge. She recognized most of the tribe, but there were few new faces in the people mingling below. Not many stumbled far enough into the mountains as it was, even fewer were attacked. The clan’s numbers varied very little from year to year, the shifter population growing slowly over generations due to offspring. Some, below, had human spouses while others stood paired off with others of their kind, mated. Most with kids had opted to stay home. Her gaze scanned through the crowd, discarding the ones she knew were taken. Her attention shifting to the handfuls of males still looking for mates.

  None of them looked ballsy enough to try her.

  She shifted slightly, one booted foot knocking a clump of snow over the edge. It was Wintersong, the one day a year where most of the tribe gathered. It was the beginning of their mating season. Their fighting season. King-making season too, for anyone who dared to challenge their current monarch.

  As if called by her thoughts, she saw Hexe then. The King stood along the edge of the valley, his thick boots strapped around his calves, his khakis loose around slender hips. The thick white parka he wore nearly blended into the white mound of snow behind him. But it was always his face that caught her attention.

  Sharp edged, with dark black hair that hung loose around the clean cut of his jaw, the firm line of his lips. It was cut in ragged, choppy waves that looked feral, as if he could never be bothered to tame it. As if he never left the mountains.

  Then again, she was one to talk. She wondered what she even looked like. The last time she’d seen a village, let alone a mirror, had been years ago. Preferring the solitude, where the only sounds were the wind howling through the mountaintops and the occasional rumble of an angry avalanche. Hexe took a step into the clearing and the others skirted the wake of their King. Any cat here could challenge him—today only—but Steele didn’t see it happening.

  Hexe fought with a ruthless edge she’d only seen rivaled by herself. He was dark, deadly, and damn near sinful with a blade. He also looked every bit the part of a warrior King, with his sleek toned muscle and easy cat grace. He moved effortlessly, purposefully. No wasted energy.

  But as ruthless as he could be, Steele had seen the softer side of their King. The side that had tried to welcome her further into the tribe. He’d wanted to make her feel at home. Looking at him now, there were no remnants of that wayward smile he’d given her last, before he’d shaken his head and walked away. As if he’d finally, finally understood she wanted to be left alone.

  Steele started to turn back to her search when Hexe’s head lifted a notch, his nostrils widening just slightly. Scenting.

  Fucking bastard. Steele’s grip tightened on her knife.

  It was him.

  Hexe had marked her. But if he thought that just because he was King she’d come sauntering down, he was wrong. And King or not, she’d still fight him. He’d be lucky if she didn’t slit his throat at the end of this and leave the throne up for the taking.

  The Mark burned bright against her chest and Hexe tilted his head, dark eyes skimming the peaks until his gaze landed on her. He was as bound to her now as she was to him, at least for the two weeks she’d be Marked. Icy and wild, his gaze locked with hers. Steele stiffened under the heat that cool stare brought to her belly, and lower. Damn him. Her fingers curled into the snow along the ledge. He was powerful, handsome. The kind of male any female here would want, or should want. If they were anyone but Steele. A smirk tipped his lips. Steele bared her teeth and hissed into the wind.

  She twisted back along the mountainside and slipped into the shadows. She felt the burn of the Mark against her breast again, as clearly as if Hexe was sinking his teeth into her skin, dragging her down. Oh, she was coming. But she’d do it on her own terms.

  Out of sight.

  ***

  Hexe watched her hiss at him from the ledge and then disappear into the shadows framed by the mountain, the swirls of snow and gunmetal gray rock sheltering her from view. She wasn’t happy, but then again, he hadn’t expected Steele to be thrilled with his Mark. As much as she was a member of the tribe, she was a distant one.

  She came to every gathering, but she always lingered on the outskirts, watching but never participating. The few times someone had tried to lure her in or befriend her, they’d been met with an icy rebuttal. Those who had pushed had been threatened with a knife. She was an enigma. Both seeming to want the company of others, and at the same time, denying it. But she’d always been clear about one thing. She didn’t want a mate and rumor had it, she’d gutted the last male who’d tried to claim her.

  He didn’t doubt that she’d try to do the same to him and he knew damn well that his rank wouldn’t save him. Hexe glanced around the gathering as more and more of their kind slipped down from the peaks and met inside the valley. A few cats fought along the edges, angry snarls already beginning to rise. One male raked claws into the hide of another. Blood decorated the snow in splatters.

  But no one stepped out of the crowd to challenge him.

  A few females edged closer, single. A pretty redhead grinned over at him. He’d danced with her last year amongst the cliffs, playing, testing the waters. He’d left her hoping for a Mark and felt a little guilty now. He wasn’t even sure of her name.

  It made him a dick and he knew it.

  But he wasn’t the only unmated male here and unlike those skirting around, laughing and lirting, Hexe knew exactly who he wanted. He’d known it for awhile now. He heard the slightest crunch of snow behind him and grinned. Inclining his head slightly,
he tipped his chin so he could gaze over his shoulder. Steele stood against the rock, her tribal-etched blade in one hand, her other stuffed in the pocket of her parka.

  Hexe flicked his attention briefly to the mountains, the last of his cats now standing on the open ground before him. He gave a low rumbling sound in his throat, like an avalanche building along the range behind him, and silence washed over the tribe—both human and cat alike. He kept one ear trained on the woman behind him, expecting her knife in his back.

  Steele didn’t move. Not yet, at least.

  “Welcome,” Hexe said, a faint smile touching his lips. He doubted it looked friendly.

  One palm extended skyward, he focused on the mountain magick that filled the land around him. Drawing in a deep breath, he pulled it inside him, then on an exhale, he blew it out over his skin. The magick appeared white in the cold air, curling like smoke, and then when it touched his hand it turned blue, floating skyward. The wind took the curl of color and blew it out over his cats.

  Wintersong had begun.

  Hexe took a powerful step towards his tribe, not tense, but prepared. If anyone fought him here and now, he would be ready. “The throne stands for the taking. Anyone?”

  One eyebrow lifted in question, but not a soul in the group stepped forward to challenge him. He turned to Steele, saw the soft smirk on her face, but she made no move for him. Hexe eyed his tribe before him, a few shifters standing ready to resume their earlier battles. Most were here simply to be with the tribe or to find mates, their squabbles nothing more than proving their worth as males.

  With a jerk of his head, Hexe dismissed them and watched the cats turn away, the official introduction done. The Marked females stood out easily, a swirl of blue magick lingering against their parkas. It was a half a beat before someone noticed Steele behind him. The male stumbled, eyes a little wide, and Hexe watched as the man flicked his gaze across the group, as if he was trying to see who had the balls to try her.

 

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