Unexpected Eden

by Rhenna Morgan

  Books by Rhenna Morgan

  Unexpected Eden

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Unexpected Eden

  Rhenna Morgan

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Copyright

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 by Rhenna Morgan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund- raising, and educational or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager:

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: December 2014

  eISBN-13: 978-1-61650-628-5

  eISBN-10: 1-61650-628-8

  First Print Edition: December 2014

  ISBN-13: 978-1-61650-629-2

  ISBN-10: 1-61650-629-6

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Abegayle and Addison.

  I’ll never fit the soccer mom mold, but I’ll help you chase your dreams the same way you’ve helped me chase mine.

  Chapter 1

  Slow breaths in, slow breaths out. All Lexi had to do was focus on the thump of Rihanna’s latest hit, keep the drinks flowing, and stick to her half of the bar. The mother lode of testosterone on Jerry’s side couldn’t sit there all night. Could he?

  “Don’t suppose you’ve noticed, but there’s a scrumptious not-from-around-here type giving you the eyeball.” Mindy grinned and handed over the latest round of drink orders.

  White t-shirt, killer muscles, and dark chocolate hair halfway down his back? Yeah, she’d noticed. Repeatedly. And every time she went for a visual refill, his silver gaze shocked nerve endings she’d long thought dead.

  “Drop it, Mindy. Guys like that are an occupational hazard and you know it.”

  “Honey, that man is way past hazard. More like Chernobyl.” She leaned into the trendy concrete countertop. The modern pendant lights spotlighted her platinum hair and ample cleavage. One thing about Mindy—she knew how to work her assets. “I’ll bet the fallout’s worth it.”

  “It’s packed tonight. You gonna get those drinks out and stash a few tips, or waste ’em on eye candy?”

  Mindy’s dreamy smile melted and she pulled the loaded cocktail tray close. “All work and no play, huh?” She shook her head and turned for the crowd. “Have fun with that.”

  Well, hell. Another social interaction down the toilet. At twenty-five-years-old, you’d think she could handle a little female bonding in the form of man-ogling. Especially when four of those years had been spent tending bar. But damn it, some things weren’t meant for discussion. Her overactive man-jitters being one of them.

  Crouching to snag a fresh bottle of vodka beneath the counter, she peeked behind her.

  Lips guaranteed to make a girl forget her name curled into a sly smile.

  Busted.

  She spun away too fast and scraped her forehead against the rough edge of the bar. “Son of a fucking, no good piece of shit.” Head down, she counted to three and fought the need to check for witnesses, thankful the music was loud enough to cover her curse. The graceless gawker routine wasn’t normally her deal, but for the last thirty minutes she’d come up woefully short in the finesse department—and it was all the dark-haired man’s fault.

  New bottle ready for action, she faced two middle-aged men dressed like frat boys and settled into her pour-and-bill groove. The routine was a comfort, a stabilizing rhythm to counterbalance the ever-present gaze heavy on her back.

  “Hey, Lex.” Jerry smacked her shoulder and motioned behind him, never breaking stride as he headed for the register. “Tall, dark and handsome wants to see you.”

  She wouldn’t look. Not again. The giggling trio of barely legal blondes fighting their way into ordering range wasn’t nearly as nice on the eyes, but at least they kept her anchored. “Since when did you take up matchmaking?”

  “Since the guy offered me a Benjamin to make sure it was you who took care of him.”

  What? She spun.

  The stranger met her surprised stare head on, his smirk a potent mix of humble and confident. “Sold me down the river, did you?”

  “Damn right.” Jerry winked, shoved a stack of wrinkled bills into the register, and swaggered toward the waiting blondes without so much as a wish for good luck.

  Lexi huffed and took an order from the none-too-shabby twenty-something guy right in front of her on principle. Mystery man could cool his jets for a minute or two. Besides, if his banter matched his looks, she’d need every second she could get to batten down the hatches.

  She filled orders with slow deliberation and an extra bit of bravado, grabbing snippets of recon where she could.

  A vicious looking man sat next to her dark-haired hunk. Lazy raven waves fell to a hard jawline, a tightly trimmed goatee making his harsh face a downright menace. Entirely the wrong selection for wingman material.

  Out of customers and bar space, she faced both men and wiped down of the counter. “What can I get you?” The catchall phrase came out shakier than she wanted, and tried to cover it with an intensive, yet completely unnecessary study of the bottles stocked below the counter.

  “You disliked my tactic.” God help her, the man had a voice to match his face. An easy glide that left a slow burn in its wake. Kind of like fifty-year-old Scotch. “I admit it’s not my style, but I was desperate.”

  Not exactly the approach she’d expected from a hottie, but it did help ease her tension. “There’s not a thing desperate about you and we both know it.”

  He answered with a megawatt smile that damn near knocked her off her feet. Utterly relaxed, he rested muscled forearms on the bar and raised an eyebrow. “Have dinner with me.”

  She shouldn’t be able to hear him in such a crush, let alone register a physical impact, but damned if she wasn’t processing both loud and clear. “I don’t even know you.”

  He offered his hand. Long, strong fingers stretched out, showing calluses along his palm. “Eryx Shantos.”

  Wingman stared straight ahead, his aqua eyes cold enough to freeze a soul.

  “Lexi Merrill.” As their palms met, a rush fired up her arm and down her spine, and she shook as though she’d cozied up to a blow dryer in a bathtub. She ripped her hand away and rubbed the tingling center up and down her jean-clad hip.

  Eryx didn’t so much as blink, his sword-colored gaze glinting with dare and determination.

  Maybe fatigue was taking a toll on her imagination. Or the flu. Or a desperate need to get laid. Gripping the bar for support, she took an order from a cute little brunette trying to avoid a middle-aged, bald guy’s come-on.

  Except for a slow pull off his beer, Wingman stayed stock-still. His angry expression screamed, “Stay the fuck back.”


  “Now you know me,” Eryx said. “Have dinner with me.”

  “I have to work.”

  “Then lunch.”

  “I work then too.” A lame excuse, but true. Two jobs and part-time college didn’t leave a lot of room for being social. Not that socializing ever managed to work in her favor.

  “Breakfast, then.”

  A half-hearted laugh slipped out before she could stop it. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

  “You have nooo idea.” Wingman tipped his longneck for another drink, fingers loose around the dark glass despite his tight voice.

  Eryx shot him a nasty glare.

  “Your friend doesn’t talk much.” Lexi grabbed a few empties and dunked them in a tub of soapy water.

  “His name’s Ludan. And he may not be able to talk at all by the time the night’s over. Depends on if he manages to keep his tongue intact.”

  “Yo! Need a few Bud Lights.” Two college-age men in need of a manners class shoved their way to Ludan’s free side.

  Ludan straightened and pushed the men back a handful of steps with nothing more than a glare.

  No way was she dealing with the fallout from a brawl, even if the young punks could use the lesson. “Stand down and kill the scary badass routine.”

  Ludan faced her, his eyes a shade closer to white than blue. It took a tense breath or two, but the muscles beneath his black t-shirt relaxed and he smirked. He eased down on his barstool and snagged his beer. “Your woman’s got bite, Eryx.”

  She snatched a pair of Buds from the cooler and popped the tops off. “I’m not his woman.”

  “Not yet.” Eryx’s calm retort landed between them—part taunt, part promise. The sheer resoluteness in his expression sent a rush she didn’t dare analyze clear to her toes.

  Better to get down to business and add some distance before she did something she’d regret. “Tell me what you want to drink. I gotta get back to work.”

  “I’ve already told you want I want.”

  Lexi planted a hand on her hip and thanked God he couldn’t see her pounding heart. “A tall order that’s not on the menu.”

  Eryx nodded, a slow, sultry move that intimated a whole lot more than simple agreement. “Some things are worth waiting for.”

  A blast of déjà vu hit and left her stunned. A hot gush of frustration shoved in behind it and spun her back toward her half of the bar. With a thump on Jerry’s arm, she motioned toward Eryx. “He’s all yours. I want the sane side back.”

  She worked her portion of the crowd with single-minded enthusiasm. Worth waiting for. It was just a line. Guys like Eryx were landmines waiting for a trigger.

  A couple nuzzled nose to nose, an out-of-place intimacy amid the harsh lights from the dance floor. Her heart stuttered. Was she bypassing something good? Maybe she should circle back. See if he needed another—

  He was gone, his wingman with him. A gaggle of women, one with a naughty tiara and last-night-of-freedom sash wrapped around her, crowded between the leather and chrome barstools.

  The tiny thread of hope she’d refused to acknowledge snapped in half. She snatched a bag of ice from the back cooler and shook it over the longnecks along the front bin of the bar. She knew better than to wish for things like love. Hell, she hadn’t even done a double take on a guy in more years than she could count. She could get a massage from a team of Chippendales and she probably wouldn’t get excited. What made her think she’d ever find anyone worth laying her heart on the line?

  She turned for the rear register and shoved her disappointment deep. Better to study that topic later—say in about five years. She’d finish out the night, prep for tomorrow like she always did, and be glad she’d avoided the drama.

  Pinpricks raced down her spine and warmth surrounded her. Not the slick and humid dance floor variety, but comforting, infused with leather and sandalwood. Out of place. Delicious.

  Ordinary patrons reflected in the wide mirror before her, faces bright with the glaze of alcohol. Nothing stood out. No danger.

  But she could have sworn warm, rough fingertips grazed her cheek.

  * * * *

  Perched on the high retaining wall at the end of the parking lot, Eryx glared at the streetlight overhead. One flick of his wrist and he could fry the whole damned contraption with an electric pulse. Better on his patience for sure, but not so great for his plans. Smart women like Lexi weren’t usually keen on dark parking lots at two-thirty in the morning.

  Tapping his boot heels against the wall, Ludan cracked his knuckles and scanned their surroundings for the fiftieth time. As Eryx’s somo, Ludan looked out for his wellbeing, but the nasty bastard sometimes took the job too deep into mother hen territory. “We need to go back to Eden. Recharge for a few days and then come make a play for your woman. If the Rebellion catches us here with our energy this low—”

  “The rumors are just that. Rumors.” Eryx shifted on the cold concrete, anything to get the blood flow back into his too-stationary ass. “The Rebellion hasn’t launched an attack worth merit in over seventy years. I bet I couldn’t find five people who’ve seen Maxis in more than that. I’m not cranking my men into a tizzy over hypotheticals.”

  “And the ellan?” Ludan’s cool gaze slid to Eryx. “You gonna keep ignoring them too? The old coots are chomping at the bit to know what’s got you so tied up in the human realm.”

  “Only half of them are old coots. The rest are as young and eager to modernize our race as we are.” If you could call one hundred and fifty-two years old young. From the human perspective, it probably seemed closer to eternity.

  Ludan looked away and gripped the ledge. Better than throwing a punch—which would probably be his preference.

  Hard to blame the guy. Ten years helping Eryx look for the woman who visited his dreams every night would send most people running. Ludan? Loyal to the core and still right here with him. But that didn’t mean he’d give up on his argument. Ten more seconds tops before he chimed in again. Ten. Nine. Eight. Se—

  “You’re the malran. You call the shots.” Ludan crossed his arms. “But even without the Rebellion threat, you’re risking your throne and a death sentence.”

  And there it was. The lecture he’d had coming since he finally tracked a clue from his dreams to Lexi’s workplace. Humans were a no-no. Do business with them? Walk freely in their realm? Tangle in a bout of good, hot, sweaty sex? All fair game. Fill them in on the Myren race or interfere in human destiny? That shit earned you the axe, a mandate passed down by The Great One himself when he’d created Eryx’s people.

  “We’ve been here too long,” Ludan said. “Both our powers are damned near gone. Any attack outside of one-to-one and we’re screwed.”

  The service door kachunked open.

  Eryx shoved off the ledge.

  “Sorry, man.” The bartender he’d bribed ambled toward the mid-size pickup on Eryx’s left with a sympathetic shake of his head. “You’ve got it bad.”

  Eryx leaned against the brick wall, crossed his arms, and notched one boot over his ankle. “You telling me she’s not worth the trouble?”

  The man’s keys jangled against the quiet night and a perky chirp mixed with a flash of headlights. He shrugged and tugged open the driver’s door. “Hard to say. Never met a man who made it through the gauntlet.” He tossed his black duffel bag across to the passenger’s side, shot a man-to-man nod at Ludan then smirked at Eryx. “Good luck.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic. Your dream woman’s the hard-to-get type.” As the truck pulled away, Ludan leapt to the asphalt and planted his hands on his hips. “We’re never getting home.”

  Crickets and the drone of cars on the interstate filled the silence.

  “Would you go back if you were me?” It was an underhanded question. Ludan knew the toll Lexi’s dream visits took on his ability to reason.
How he woke strung out with need, zeroed in on the single purpose of finding his mate. “If you were this close, would you risk losing her?”

  Ludan didn’t exactly hang his head in defeat, but he sure studied the asphalt hard. “No.” He turned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Better not to fuck with The Fates.”

  The door rattled and eased open.

  His skin buzzing, Eryx pushed to full height.

  Ludan sidled further away and switched to telepathy. “You sure you wanna do this? You can’t be sure she’s Myren.”

  “I’ll figure it out. The pictures in her mind were definitely of Eden.”

  Under the unforgiving street lamps, Lexi’s tan skin glowed. Soft-black hair brushed her shoulders and her hips swayed, slow with an unpretentious sexuality. A distracted frown tugged at her lips, her face downcast. She looked up and froze, bits of gravel crunching beneath her fancy shoes. “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “I told you I was willing to wait.” He tried for a lighthearted tone, no easy task. A decade of tracking one irresistible woman did crazy things to a man’s insides.

  She zigzagged a look between Eryx near her red Jeep Wrangler and Ludan a stone’s throw away then glanced at the closed door behind her. She adjusted the purse strap at her shoulder and narrowed her blue-gray eyes. “You’re one step past stalker.”

  He held up his hands. “I swear it’s not like that. I really do want to take you to breakfast.” So he’d gone a little further with his scan of her memories when they’d shaken hands than he should have. She always caught an after-work breakfast with a man who looked to be in his mid to late fifties, and she drove the Wrangler parked behind him.

  “It’s nearly three AM.”

  “And we’re all hungry. Perfect timing.” He lowered his hands and hoped Ludan wasn’t sporting his perma-scowl. Non-threatening wasn’t his strong suit.

  “Smart girls don’t go to breakfast with strangers.” She nodded toward her Jeep. “Let alone get near a vehicle with unknown men nearby.”