The warm Caribbean air gusted through the open doorway, tinged with salt and cool against her heated skin. Today was her wedding day. She’d dreamed of it as a little girl, but had let those dreams fade in her time with Maxis. Now it was here. Beautiful, set in an exotic paradise, and very, very real.
Her mother clasped Brenna’s hand and squeezed encouragingly. “Your father would be so happy today. I wish…” She clamped her lips tight, and tears welled in her eyes. “He’d be proud. Proud of the man you’ve chosen and everything you’ve done.”
Sorrow clogged Brenna’s throat and left an awkward weight in her stomach. “I miss him, but I’m glad I have you.”
Releasing her hand, Abby wrapped Brenna up in a fierce hug, the two of them swaying slightly in the quiet moment. She kissed Brenna on the forehead and guided her forward. “Let’s go get you married.”
Voices sounded from the beach, Eryx and Ramsay’s rich baritone mingling with Lexi’s sassy banter. Jillian giggled, and Ian’s sharp laugh followed right behind it. Everyone was happy. Finally. They still had a ton of obstacles to figure out, mainly those centered around political and military concerns, but Eryx had proven himself extremely savvy and more than a little persuasive when needed. Without the prophecy hanging over everyone’s head, negotiations had been a cakewalk in comparison. Even the threat of the Black rogues was no longer an issue, an assurance delivered by the Black King himself.
Brenna stepped from the villa’s shelter with her mother by her side, and the chatter stopped. The setting sun warmed her shoulders, and the powder-soft sand tickled her bare feet. Even the wind whipped a little more strongly in greeting, but the only thing her senses processed was the man waiting for her in the center of those gathered.
Her mate.
Barefoot and dressed in the loose silver silk pants and tank reserved for the most formal council events, Ludan stood tall and proud with Eryx at his side. As it always was now, he’d knotted his wavy dark hair high at the back of his head, but loose strands had escaped and whipped around his ice-blue eyes. His warrior torque and cuffs were back in place, the unique design marking him as somo to the malran. While the ivory mark he’d given her was more subtle against her pale skin, her family emblem reflected boldly against his deep tan flesh.
An owl. She still couldn’t believe her mark was one so beautifully detailed or majestic as the wise creature the Creator had given her. His wings stretched tall, nearly reaching Ludan’s shoulders, and clutched in his talons was the prophetic sword twined in ivy. But it was his eyes that moved her more than any other feature. So sage and confident.
Before she knew it, her mother kissed her cheek and placed her hand in Ludan’s. His warmth settled her angsty nerves and enveloped her in a soul deep peace. Relaxing into the moment, she let the minister’s words wash over her, giving her answers when asked and keeping her gaze locked tight to Ludan’s. She was so riveted, so deeply connected to the unspoken love shining in his eyes, she almost missed the minister saying, “You may kiss your bride.”
Ludan’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and that salacious, pleased-with-himself smile she’d grown to love stretched wide. “Now I’ve bound you every way a man can.” He dipped his head and teased her lips with his. “My mate.” Another glide. “My wife.” He settled his mouth firmly against hers and brushed a mental caress across her abdomen. “The mother of my child.”
Shivers danced along her spine, the rich possessiveness of his words mingling with the thrill she experienced every time she thought of the life they’d created.
He pulled her flush against him and plied her lips with his until they parted. His tongue swept inside, branding her with the velvety caress, uncaring of the crowd or the cheers sounding around them.
Brenna surrendered. To his touch. To the safety of his embrace and the glorious hope burning bright in her soul. The past was behind them, the barbs that had once trapped them worn dull and the sting of old wounds now unbreakable scars that strengthened their bond. The future was theirs, full of promise, happiness, and the sweetest liberating love.
Also by Rhenna Morgan
The Eden Series (Contemporary Fantasy Romance)
Unexpected Eden
Healing Eden
Waking Eden
Standalone (Contemporary Romance)
What Janie Wants
Coming soon from Carina Press and Rhenna Morgan
Sometimes the safest place is in the arms of a dangerous man.
ROUGH & TUMBLE
Book one in THE HAVEN BROTHERHOOD SERIES
Vivienne Moore’s determined to ditch the rough lifestyle she grew up in even if it means hiding her desire and passion behind a bland society-acceptable veneer. She craves stability—in her business and her relationships. Unfortunately, her event planning company is in the red, and the man who’s snagged her attention is the poster child for everything she’s desperate to escape.
A self-made man with fingers in all kinds of successful businesses, Jace Kennedy won’t conform to society. Uppity socialites piss him off. Viv looks, walks, and talks like one, but also simmers with secrets—and no woman keeps secrets from Haven’s leader. He’ll have them from her…one way or another.
When Jace dangles a proposition to not only keep Viv’s company on its feet but pave the way to a booming future, Viv will have to decide—play it safe, ditch her dream job, and tuck tail back to corporate America, or tumble with Jace and his wild temptations.
Turn the page for an unedited excerpt of this gritty and oh so sexy contemporary romance!
Chapter 1
Nothing like a New Year’s Eve drunk-sister-search-and-rescue to top off a chaos laden twelve-hour workday. Viv dialed her newest Shinedown single from full blast to almost nothing and whipped her Honda hybrid into a pay-by-the-hour lot in the heart of Dallas’ Deep Ellum. Five freaking weekends in a row Callie had pulled this crap with way too many random SOS calls before her current streak.
At least this place was in a decent part of town. Across the street, men and women dressed in everything from T-shirts and faded jeans to leather riding gear and motorcycle boots milled outside a new bar styled like an old-fashioned pub called The Den. Not one of them looked like they were calling the party quits any time soon.
Viv tucked her purse beneath the seat, stashed her key fob in her pocket, and strode into the humid January night. Her knock-off Jimmy Choos clicked against the aged blacktop, and cool fog misted her cheeks.
Off to one side, an appreciative whistle sounded between low, masculine voices.
She kept her head down, hustled through the dark double doors, and into a cramped black-walled foyer. A crazy-big bouncer with mocha skin and dreads leaned against the doorjamb between her and the main bar, his attention centered on a stunning brunette in a soft pink wife-beater, jeans, and stilettos.
The doors behind her clanged shut.
Pushing to full height, the bouncer warily scanned Viv head to toe. Hard to blame the guy. Outside of health inspectors and liquor licensing agents they probably didn’t get many suits in here, and she’d bet none of them showed in silk shirts.
“ID,” he said.
“I’m not here to stay. I just need to find someone.”
He smirked and crossed his arms. “Can’t break the rules, momma. No ID, no party.”
“I don’t want a party, I want to pick up my sister and then I’m out. She said she’d be up front. About my height, light brown, curly hair, and three sheets to the wind?”
“You must mean Callie,” the brunette said. “She was up here about an hour ago mumbling something about sissy so I’m guessing you’re her.” She leaned into scary bouncer dude’s formidable chest, grinned up at him, and stroked his bicep with an almost absent-minded reverence. “May as well let her in. If you don’t, Trev will spend closing time hearing his waitresses bitch about cleaning up puke.”
Too bad Viv didn’t have someone to bitch to about getting puke detail. Callie sure as heck never listened.
Bouncer dude stared Viv down and slid his mammoth hand far enough south he palmed the brunette’s ass. He jerked his head toward the room beyond the opening. “Make it quick. You might be old enough but the cops have been in three times tonight chomping to bust our balls on any write up they can find.”
Finally, something in her night that didn’t require extra time and trouble. Though if she’d been smart, she’d have tagged her ID before she came in.
“Smart move, chief.” The woman tagged him with a fast but none-too-innocent kiss, winked, and motioned for Viv to follow. “Come on. I’ll show you where she is.”
An even better break. The last search and rescue had taken over thirty minutes in a techno dance bar. She’d finally found Callie passed out under a set of stairs not far from the main speakers, but the ringing in Viv’s ears had lasted for days. At least this time she’d have a tour guide and an extra pair of hands.
The place was as eclectic on the inside as it was out. Rock and movie collectibles hung on exposed brick walls and made the place look like it’d been around for years even though it reeked of new. Every table was packed. Waitresses navigated overflowing trays between the bustling crowd, and Five Finger Death Punch vibrated loud enough conversation was a challenge.
The brunette smiled and semi-yelled over one shoulder never breaking her hip slinging stride. “Nice turnout for an opening week, yeah?”
Well, that explained the new smell. “I don’t do crowds.” At least not this kind. Signing her dad’s Do Not Resuscitate after a barroom brawl had pretty much cured her of smoky, dark, and wild. “It looks like a great place though.”
The woman paused where the bar opened to a whole different area and scanned Viv’s outfit. “From the looks of things, you could use a crowd to loosen up.” She shrugged and motioned toward the rear of the room. “Corner booth. Last I saw your girl she was propped up between two airheads almost as hammered as she was. And don’t mind Ivan. The cops are only hounding the owners, not the customers. My name’s Lily if you need anything.” And then she was gone, sauntering off to a pack of women whooping it up at the opposite end of the club.
So much for an extra set of hands. At least this part of the bar was less crowded, and the scattered sitting areas with every kind of mismatched chair and sofa you could think of made it a whole lot easier to case the place.
She wove her way across the stained black concrete floors toward the randomly decorated booths along the back. Overhead, high-end mini-sparkle lights cast the room in a muted, sexy glow. Great for ambiance, but horrid for picking drunk sisters out of a crowd. Still, Viv loved the look. She’d try the same thing in her own place if it wouldn’t ruin her new townhouse’s tasteful uptown vibe. Funky might be fun but it wouldn’t help with resale.
Laughter and a choking cloud of smoke mushroomed out from the corner booth.
The instant Viv reached the table, the chatter died. Three guys, two girls, and the stench of Acapulco Red—but no sister. “You guys see Callie?”
A lanky man with messy curly blond hair eyed her beneath thirty-pound eyelids and grinned, not even bothering to hide the still smoldering joint. “’Sup.”
The redhead cozied next to him smacked him on the shoulder and glowered. “She’s after Callie, Mac. Not stopping in for a late night chat.” She reached across the table and handed Viv an unpaid bar tab. “She headed off to the bathroom about ten minutes ago, but be sure you take this with you. She stuck me with the bill last night.”
Seventy-eight bucks. A light night for New Year’s Eve, which was a damn good thing considering Viv’s bank balance. She tucked the tab in her pocket. “Which way to the bathroom?”
The girl pointed toward a dark corridor. “Down that hall and on your left.”
Viv strode that direction not bothering with any follow up niceties. Odds were good they wouldn’t even remember her in the morning, let alone five minutes from now.
Inside the hallway, the steady drone of music and laughter plunged to background noise. Two scowling women pranced past her headed back into the bar. One glanced over her shoulder and shook her head at Viv. “May as well head to the one up front. Someone’s in that one and isn’t coming out anytime soon from the sound of things.”
Well, shit. This was going to be fun. She wiggled the knob. “Callie?”
God, she hoped it was her sister in there. Knowing her luck, she was interrupting a New Year’s booty call. Although if that were the case, they were doing it wrong because it was way too quiet. She tried the knob again and knocked on the door. “Callie, it’s Viv. Open up.”
Still no answer.
Oh, to hell with it. She banged on the door and gave it the good old pissed-off-sister yell. “Callie, for the love of God open the damned door. I want to go home.”
A not so promising groan sounded from inside a second before the door marked Office at her right swung wide. A tall Adonis in jeans and a club T-shirt emblazoned with The Den’s edgy logo blocked the doorway. His sky blue eyes were alert in a way that shouldn’t be possible past one in the morning.
Two men filled the space behind him, one shirtless with arms braced on the top of a desk, and another leaning close, studying the shirtless guy’s shoulder. No wait. He wasn’t studying it, he was stitching it, which explained the seriously bloody shirt on the floor.
“Got more bathrooms up front. No need to break down the damned door.” Adonis man ambled toward her, zigzagging his attention between her and the bathroom. “There a problem?”
Dear God in heaven, now that the Adonis had moved out of the way, the shirtless guy was on full mouthwatering display, and he was every book boyfriend and indecent fantasy rolled up into one. A wrestler’s body, not too big and not too lean, but one hundred percent solid. A huge tattoo covered his back, a gnarled and aged tree with a compass worked into the gothic design. And his ass. Oh hell, that ass was worth every torturous hour in front of her tonight. The only thing better than seeing it in seriously faded Levis would be seeing it naked.
“Hey,” Adonis said. “You gonna ogle my brother all night or tell me why you’re banging down one of my doors?”
They were brothers? No way. Adonis was all…well, Adonis. The other guy was tall, dark, and dirty.
Fantasy man peered over his injured shoulder. Shrewd, almost angry eyes lasered on her, just as dark as his near black hair. A chunk of the inky locks had escaped his ponytail and fell over his forehead. His closely cropped beard gave him a sinister and deadly edge that probably kept most people at a distance, but his lips could lull half the women in Texas through hell if it meant they’d get a taste.
Viv shook her head and coughed while her mind clambered its way up from Smuttville. “Um…” Her heart thrummed to the point she thought her head would float off her shoulders, and her tongue was so dry it wouldn’t work right. “I think my sister’s passed out in there. I just want to get her home.”
Adonis knocked on the door and gave the knob a much firmer twist than Viv had. “Zeke, toss me the keys off the desk.”
Before either of the men could move, the lock on the door popped, and the door creaked open a few inches. “Vivie?” Callie’s mascara streaked face flashed a second before the door slipped shut again.
Months of training kicked in, and Viv lurched forward, easing open the door and slipping inside. “I’ve got it now. Give me a minute to get her cleaned up and gather her stuff.”
Adonis blocked the door with his foot. The black, fancy cowboy boots probably cost more than a month’s mortgage payment, which seemed a shame considering it didn’t look like she’d be able to pay her next one. “You sure you don’t need help?”
“Nope.” She snatched a few towels out of the dispenser and wetted them, keeping one eye on Callie where she semi-dozed against the wall. “We’ve done this before. I just need a few minutes and a clear path.”
“All right. My name’s Trevor if you need me. You know where we are if you change your mind.” He eased his foot away,
grinned, and shook his head.
“Oh!” Viv caught the door before it could close all the way and pulled the bar tab out of her pocket. “My sister ran up a tab. Could you hold this at the bar for me and let me pay it after I get her out to the car? I need to grab my purse first.”
He backtracked, eyeballed Callie behind her, and crumpled the receipt. “I’d say you’ve already covered tonight.” He turned for the office. “We’ll call it even.”
Fantasy man was still locked in place and glaring over one shoulder, the power behind his gaze as potent as the crackle and hum after a nearby lightning strike.
She ducked back into the bathroom and locked the door, her heart jack rabbiting right back up to where it had been the first time he’d looked at her. She seriously needed to get a grip on her taste in men. Suits and education were a much safer choice. Manners and meaningful conversation, not bloody T-shirts, smoky bars, and panty-melting grins.
Snatching Callie’s purse off the counter, she let out a serrated breath, shook out the wadded wet towel, and started wiping the black streaks off her sister’s cheek. A man like him wouldn’t be interested in her anyway. At least not the new and improved her. And the odds of them running into each other again in a city like Dallas were slim to none, so she may as well wrangle up her naughty thoughts and keep them in perspective.
On the bright side, she didn’t have to worry about the tab. Plus, she had a fresh new imaginary star for her next late-night rendezvous with BOB.
Don’t miss
ROUGH & TUMBLE by Rhenna Morgan
Available February, 2017 wherever
Carina Press ebooks are sold.
www.CarinaPress.com
Eden's Deliverance (The Eden Series Book 4) Page 32