by Lily Harlem
Take Me!
Lily Harlem
Megan’s weekend just took a dangerous, sexy turn…
What’s not to love about a girl’s weekend in Dublin? Megan Sanders loves being out on the town and out on the pull with her mates, but unfortunately, she’s attracted the attentions of a man with downright murderous intentions.
Seth Martin knows vampire Samuel Bennington is evil, and only his pack of elite wolf shifters can protect Megan. That is, if they can convince her that she needs their help.
Soon Megan finds herself caught up in a whirlwind of fear and lust. She’s being hunted for her blood, yes, but she’s also crazy about the guy who has sworn to protect her. But which man will win? Will her blood sate Bennington’s hunger, or will Seth remind her why it’s good to be alive, and give her pleasure beyond anything she’s known before?
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement of the copyright of this work.
TAKE ME!
Alphas Unleashed Series
Copyright © 2016 LILY HARLEM
ISBN: 978-1-945193-51-4
All Romance eBooks, LLC Palm Harbor, Florida 34684 www.allromanceebooks.com
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First All Romance eBooks publication: October 2016
Chapter One
“Hey, come on, up here,” Felicity called over her shoulder, “I’ve found the bar.” She trotted up the stairs, her mock-veil, covered in condoms and tiny L-plates, tapping her jeans-clad ass.
Megan followed, a giggle bursting upward. The tour of the Guinness Storehouse in Dublin had been on her to-do list, and now they’d come to the end of the factory tour they got their prize—a pint of the famous Liffey beer.
The rest of the party, all girls, followed. There were twelve of them in total visiting from Liverpool. Their aim was to celebrate Felicity’s last weekend of freedom before she got hitched, and they were having a blast. They’d drunk sparkling wine on the plane, eaten burgers on Grafton Street, and were planning more drinks in Temple Bar before they found their hotel.
Megan pushed into Gravity Bar. It was crowded, people standing shoulder-to-shoulder to get the free drink that came with the entrance ticket.
The rest of the group went around to the left, but Megan saw a space between two men and, voucher in hand, squeezed between the hot bodies.
“Hey, sugar,” the man to her right said in an Irish accent. He grinned at her and looked her up and down.
The woman on his right poked him. “Hey, Conner, stop that.”
Megan ignored him. With her long flame-red hair, porcelain skin and ample chest, she often drew a second glance. Today it didn’t help that she wore a skimpy summer dress that was lemon-yellow and had small orange flowers on it. The neckline was low, but not indecently so, and a small heart-shaped pendant hung just above her cleavage.
“Pint?” asked the barman, ignoring a couple of other people and turning his attention straight to her.
“Yes, please.” She offered him the voucher, accidently nudging the man on her left. As the barman poured her drink, she looked out of the huge glass windows behind him. Dublin sprawled into the distance and, from up here, she could see church spires, the park and the wide, chocolate-brown River Liffey. On the horizon, green hills touched the blue sky and a few wispy clouds flirted with the sun.
“Here you go, darlin’.” The drink was set before her, the base rich and black, the frothy top white and thick.
“Thanks.” She picked it up, her arm once again nudging the guy on her right. “Sorry,” she said.
“That’s quite okay.”
She glanced up at him. Unlike the barman, and almost every other voice she’d heard since arriving here, he didn’t speak with an Irish accent. He was also, like her, very pale, though his hair was as dark as the drink she was now holding. His eyes were the palest gray-blue she’d ever seen but his irises were ringed with black.
For a moment she stared, the way people stared at her, fascinated. He was oddly handsome, his features chiseled, his mouth wide. He wore a black suit and a red cravat and looked out of place, as if he were too smart for this casual bar with its excited tourist visitors.
“I’m Mr. Samuel Bennington,” he said, his vowels plump and carefully enunciated.
“Megan. Megan Sanders.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Sanders.” His eyes flashed, and he poked out his tongue and licked his bottom lip.
Megan felt a shiver go up her spine and the hair on her nape prickled. Although this guy was drop-dead handsome, there was something about him that sparked an alarm in her. Almost as if her instincts sensed something she couldn’t put her finger on. He wasn’t the type of person she wanted to spend time with.
“Hey, Megan, over here!”
She looked in the direction she’d heard her name being shouted. Emma, one of the bridesmaids, was waving frantically.
“Come on, we’ve got a table,” Emma called.
Megan gripped her pint and stepped away from the strange man. “Excuse me. My friends are waiting.”
He reached out and pressed his palm on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t keep them waiting, that wouldn’t be polite.”
“Er, no. It wouldn’t.” His touch was light but also heavy, and cold too. Despite the hot bar, with the sun shining through its windows, his skin was chilled.
She suppressed a shudder and turned away, glad when he released her. A one-night stand with a cute Irish guy might be a bit of fun, but definitely not with a creepy cold guy.
Quickly, she forgot about him. Felicity was entertaining the group with a story of her husband-to-be and a trip to a local sex shop for honeymoon accessories. Megan found herself laughing and sipping her Guinness. She relaxed, enjoying the party atmosphere, and let thoughts of her new single status and her demanding job in a primary school drift into the distance. These two nights in Dublin were something she’d been looking forward to for a long time.
“Anyone want more Guinness?” Emma asked. “We have to buy it now we’ve used the voucher, but…”
“Nah,” Felicity said, standing. “One pint of this treacle is enough for me. I’ll be bloated for a week otherwise and I’ll never get into that white dress. Let’s head to Temple Bar. It’s getting late and I’ve got some cocktails with my name written on them.”
There was a general murmur of agreement.
Megan looked out of the window. The Irish sky was turning pink and lilac, the clouds silvery. Soon it would be twilight. Her attention went to the bar which wasn’t as busy now. Standing there, staring straight at her, was the man with the strange eyes and cold hands. What was his name? Bennington? Yes, that was it, Samuel Bennington.
She gripped the strap of her rucksack a little tighter. His study of her was unnerving. Had he been staring at her this whole time?
“Looks like you have an admirer,” Felicity said, winking at Megan.
“Mmm, not so sure I want that kind of admiration.”
“Oh, come on. You need a rebound to get over that jerk Colin. He’d do.”
“Don’t you think he’s creepy?”
Felicity appeared to think about it for a minute. “No, he’s just different, but sexy different.” She paused. “A bit old-fashioned in that outfit, don’t you think?”
“Mmm…I do.” Megan stood and turned her back on the strange man. She’d be glad to get out of Gravity Bar now and was pleased the general consensus had been to leave.
Once out in the open, she breathed in the cooling air. Emma linked arms with her and they made their way toward the path that ran parallel with the river. If they followed it toward the city center, they’d reach their next destination.
“That was fun,” Emma said, then hiccupped. “My dad would have loved it.”
“Your dad?” Megan laughed.
“Yeah, he’s a Guinness man. Can’t stand the stuff myself.”
“You just drank a whole pint.”
She giggled. “Yep and that’s enough to last me a lifetime. I’m with Felicity, let’s find cocktails.”
“I agree.” Megan glanced over her shoulder. She still had the feeling of being watched by Bennington, but there was no one there. Just cobbled paths and high bricked walls.
She shifted her rucksack—it was heavy and contained everything she needed for the long weekend—and tried to shake the feeling. Sometimes her imagination got carried away. Too many late nights reading scary books about werewolves and vampires her mother always said. Megan couldn’t help it though, she was hooked on stories that featured sexy shifters and hot vamps. Throw in a fabulous romance and she’d be awake into the small hours reading.
“Do you think there are vampires in Dublin?” she asked.
Emma laughed. “No, but then I don’t think there are vampires anywhere in the world. Well, unless you count those movies with Robert what’s-his-face and that sulky girl.”
“What about werewolves and shifters? Do you think they exist?”
“Yeah sure, they hang out with the leprechauns here in Ireland, up in the Wicklow Mountains.” She pointed into the distance, then doubled over with laughter. “They probably feast on those poor leprechauns, gobble them up in one mouthful.”
Megan shook her head and staggered a little as Emma’s giggling tugged them both to the right. “Have you no ability to think out of the box? Believe in the unbelievable?”
“No. You forget, dearest, I’m a scientist. I work in a laboratory. Unless something can be proven, I don’t believe it. It’s the way I’m wired.”
Megan was quiet. She was glad she wasn’t a scientist. Life was much more fun when you had an open mind. When the extraordinary could be the ordinary. Actually, she’d love to meet a vampire or a shifter. She was sure she’d cope with it just fine. At the end of the day, it took all sorts to make the world go round, so why not a few creatures that defied science too?
It took longer than they’d all predicted to reach the Temple Bar district and, when they did, it was properly dark.
Felicity quickly pointed to a bar that had the door flung open to the night and the sound of live music spilling onto the cobbled street. “In there!”
Megan piled in with the group. The guitar music was loud and the place as crowded as the last bar. They split in two, one group of girls to get seats, or at least save standing room, and the other to get drinks.
The air was warm, and Megan found herself jostled as she went to the bar. Emma broke off and wriggled her way through the crowd. Megan went in a different direction, hoping for a little more room at the far end. It soon became clear it was one of those places where personal space just didn’t count. She brushed up against men and women. Bodies butted into her. Her toes were trampled. “Ouch.” She grimaced and tried to sidle away.
Suddenly a cool hand wrapped around her upper arm. She turned. Her heart flipped. It was him. The man from Gravity Bar.
“Miss Sanders,” he said. “I believe you’ll be more comfortable this way.” He tugged her, urging her to move with him.
She had little choice, the squash of people seeming to transport her like a wave.
Within a few seconds she found herself in a quiet corner. Tucked against a wall that had red peeling paper was a tall round table with two free bar stools set beneath it. On the table stood two flutes of what appeared to be sparkling wine.
She glanced around. How come this corner was empty? There was no one in this bit, yet the rest of the bar was such a crush.
“Here,” he said. “I thought this would be more agreeable to you. And I hope you don’t mind, I took the liberty of ordering champagne.”
“Champagne?” She was surprised they even served champagne in a place that had sawdust on the floor.
“Yes. Please sit.”
Megan found herself doing as he’d asked despite the fact he’d created steer-clear alarm bells in her guts earlier.
“Cheers,” he said, tilting his chin and holding up one of the flutes.
“Er, yes, cheers.” She touched the rim of his glass to his. “What are we toasting?”
He smiled, a lazy, almost smug smile that didn’t go to his eyes but stretched his pale lips. “To us, to our night in Dublin and to wonderful drinks.”
“Okay. To Dublin,” she said, then took a sip.
He set his drink back on the table.
Movement to Megan’s left caught her attention. It was Felicity and Emma. They were grinning and giving her the thumbs up sign. They obviously thought she’d pulled herself a hot guy for the night.
Except he wasn’t hot, he was cold.
“It was Mr. Bennington, right?” she asked, looking at her drinking companion again.
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“And where are you from? I’m guessing from your accent not Ireland.”
“No, not Ireland, though I have been here many times over the years. Originally, I’m from London.”
“Ah, I see. Go to a private school, did you?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, you talk all…you know, posh.”
“Do I?” He shrugged and smiled again. “That’s just how I speak.”
“Well, if you were in Liverpool talking like that, the blokes down the pub would kick your ass.” God, why had she said that? It was true, they’d call him a posh toff. Samuel Bennington wouldn’t stand a chance in her neck of the woods.
“Is that right?” he asked, touching his silky cravat.
She kind of shrugged.
“I like to think I can hold my own,” he said.
His gaze dropped to her chest and she touched the heart pendant that sat just below her throat. “Yes, I’m sure,” she said and took another drink.
“Do you like the champagne?” he asked, still looking at her neck.
“It’s lovely, but you shouldn’t have.”
“Why not?”
“It’s expensive and well…I hardly know you.”
“Would you like to get to know me better?”
“Well, I…”
He chuckled and looked at her face again. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Well, I didn’t mean that. I guess you need to tell me more about yourself.” Fuck, why had she ever sat down and accepted the drink? Now she felt obligated to stay for a while. And she really didn’t want to. His gaze was too intense, there was something about him that felt overpowering. As if he’d managed to make everyone else fade into the distance.
She glanced in the direction she’d last seen Emma and Felicity. They were gone, eaten into the mass of people drinking and laughing and enjoying the live music.
“So what do you want to know?” he asked.
“Er…” She looked at him again. “What do you do? You know, for a living.”
“For a living?” He nodded slowly. “I guess you could say I flit between jobs.”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Right now I’m having a drink with one of the most mesmerizing women I have had the good fortune to find in a very long time.” He leaned closer. “You really are very beautiful, you know.”
“Thank you.” Megan had been told that many times over the years. Not least by a photographer who had wanted her to quit her dream to become a primary school teacher and be a model, something that really didn’t appeal to her—far too much fussing about with not enough reward.
“I don’t think you appreciate that, though,” Samuel said.
“What?”
“How much beauty radiates from you both inside and out. It comes off you in waves, pulses in your blood.” He reached forward and rested the tips of his cold fingers against her neck. “Right here it’s perfectly visible.”
Megan held her breath for a moment and was aware of her heart beating and of the pulse in her carotid. She stared into his strange eyes. His pupils were huge, their depths black and hungry.
She pulled back. He was too strange. “I have to go and find my friends. They’ll be worried.”
“Of course. I’ll help you.” He lifted his fingers to his nose as though smelling them after he’d touched her.
“No, it’s fine.” She stood. He was too weird for comfort.
“I insist.” Quick as a flash he was at her side, his palm cupping her elbow. “I do believe they went this way.” He urged her toward the entrance of the bar.
“No, I think they’re…” She glanced at the innards of the bar.
“This way, Miss Sanders.”
Chapter Two
Megan tried to shift from Samuel’s grip but he propelled her effortlessly through the throng of people.
“Emma,” she called over her shoulder. “Felicity.” She tried to spot one of the other girls in the party but to no avail.
Within seconds they were stepping out into the cool night air.
“I really don’t think they came out here.” Megan turned to go back inside.
“Oh, but they did. I saw them. They went this way.” He wrapped his arm around her waist.
“No.” She wriggled and looked about, wishing the street was as busy now as when they’d arrived, but it was near deserted. She pulled her phone from her pocket.
“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” Bennington said.
“What? Get off me.” Now she knew his intentions weren’t honorable. What kind of man said that to a girl in a dark alley?
She stumbled and her phone slipped from her hand. It smashed onto the hard ground and she heard a couple of pieces scatter.
“Hey,” she said, stooping. Damn it. “I need my phone.”
“No.” He dragged her against his hard body and walked quickly, leading her down a completely empty street that contained a host of big bins on wheels and several parked cars.