by Alexa Riley
Back River Quiver
Alexa Riley and Jessa Kane
Contents
Back River Quiver
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Epilogue
Epilogue
Till Death Do Us Trope
Chapter 1
Pound of Flesh
Chapter 1
More from Jessa Kane
Also by Alexa Riley
Stalk the Author
Copyright © 2018 by Author Alexa Riley LLC. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to [email protected]
http://alexariley.com/
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Edited by Aquila Editing
Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations
Back River Quiver
Alexa Riley and Jessa Kane
Morgan is just looking to have a fun spring break until her workaholic mom brings along her new boyfriend. But when she ditches the two of them she ends up lost in a swamp, ankle deep in mud, and facing down a gator the size of Godzilla.
Rixen has been praying for God to send him his angel, his rightful mate who will live with him in the swamp and bear his children. When he finds the strawberry-blonde beauty before him in danger, he doesn’t hesitate to save her. Then claim his reward.
Warning: Okay, so, um, this is amazing terrible. This is so over the top, it’s on top of over the top. This book is on the level of ridiculous that surpasses all our stunts before this. You know what happens when we team up with Jessa Kane…but this is hands down the best/worst we’ve ever done. And we’re so proud we could wrestle a gator. Spoiler: There’s a lot of animal wrestling ahead. Grab your overalls and bug spray, we’re going in the bayou.
Chapter 1
Morgan
Morgan’s flip-flop sank into a sludge and she cringed, once again pulling the cell phone out of her pocket to check for reception. Nothing. Not a single bar to be had. Usually rebelling against her mother was fun—not this time apparently.
She turned in a circle as silently as possible. Surrounded by swampland with no cell phone reception was not exactly the kind of post-graduation summer break she’d been hoping for. When her mother suggested Florida, Morgan had been on board, thrilled for a chance to work on her tan. And…fine. She hadn’t been torn up over the chance to have Mom all to herself for once. Ever since the promotion, she’d been fending for herself, throwing dinners together in between homework and applying for internships. Imagine Morgan’s surprise when they’d landed in Key Largo only to be greeted by her mother’s secret boyfriend.
All this time. Morgan’s mother hadn’t been taking work trips.
She’d been getting action on the sly.
Could anyone blame Morgan for bouncing? She wasn’t about to sit around the hotel watching her mother make eyes at a divorced real estate investor. Her intention was to hitch a ride to Miami and use her fake identification to sneak into a couple clubs. To take her mind off how fast her mother moved on from her father. Unfortunately, she’d taken a wrong turn—or seven—and promptly blown the right front tire of her mother’s rental Chrysler.
Right at the edge of the Everglades.
Morgan trudged forward, telling herself for the tenth time that she would run into the advertised gas station sooner or later. The farther she walked, however, the more she began to suspect the sign was either ancient or the gas station had sunk right into the mud, just like her poor flip-flop. The hotel pool, leering businessmen and a virgin piña colada didn’t sound quite so bad right about now.
In her halter top and shorts, bikini top tied underneath, she couldn’t be dressed any more inappropriately to get lost in a freaking jungle. Morgan turned around and scanned the green, sloping trees, trying to remember which way she’d come. Oh, this was bad. Her sense of direction sucked major ass and now daylight was beginning to fade.
Gathering her courage, she cupped both hands around her mouth. “Um…hello? Out there?”
She yelped as a flock of birds broke from behind a mossy rock and scattered into the densely humid atmosphere. That’s when she started to notice other sounds. Creepy ones. Sounds she never heard while tucked away in her Chicago high-rise home. Not even at her dad’s ranch in California…back when she used to visit him. Divorces were the worst. Especially when your parents use you as a bargaining chip. Or leverage.
Shaking off her dark thoughts, Morgan swiped open the flashlight app on her cell and shined it toward the ground. She only had an hour of daylight left. Best not to disappear farther into the swamp. Instead, she would use the flashlight to follow her footprints in the mud back to her car—and call for roadside assistance. The way she should have done in the first place.
Plan in place, Morgan started at a purposeful clip, refusing to speculate on what kind of decomposed plants and nine-million-year-old mud was making its home between her toes. As soon as she got back to the hotel, she wasn’t coming out of the shower for an hour.
A snap to Morgan’s right brought her to a startled halt. What was that? Unlike the hoots, birdcalls and lapping water she’d been hearing, this sounded closer. It shifted the air. And all the other sounds ceased, like someone had hushed them.
Her blood started to thrum in her wrists and neck, the urge to run strong. So strong. Yet at the same time, her body refused to move. Fear tumbled in her belly.
“Hello?” Morgan croaked.
Another snap. This time, it was followed by the dragging of brush on earth. Low. Low to the ground. Dozens of colorful tourist brochures danced in her head. Alligator farms. Tour the everglades. All of those pamphlets had one thing in common. Slithery, green, prehistoric-looking monsters on the front. Even a city girl knew an alligator was approaching now. Where though? Which way did she need to run to escape it? Beginning to shake, she turned in a slow revolution, the fingers of terror sinking into her muscles, locking them up tight.
Morgan’s cell phone flashlight illuminated something so horrifying, she could barely process it. She expected a regular-sized alligator, but twenty yards away was the most enormous, ugliest beast she’d ever seen in her life. Five times her size, its teeth caught the light and she could already feel them sinking into her throat.
“Oh, no. This is bad.” Morgan backed up a few steps and her heel caught on a rock, plunging her to the damp, spongey ground. Her cell phone dropped, stealing the light along with it—and she screamed, scrambling onto her hands and knees. Two seconds. That was all it took for the alligator to reach her. Pain blasted up her right ankle as sharp teeth grazed her.
Run. Run. Get up and run.
Doing as her brain commanded, there was a large part of Morgan that expected the teeth to sink in again, deeper this time. Expected to be eaten alive. And a sob rose from her throat, knowing her mother would probably never find a body to bury. Oh God. She was going to get dragged into the nasty-ass swamp and chewed up, wasn�
��t she? She should have stayed at the hotel and endured the suck-face between her mom and Too-Tan Dan. Instead she’d been impulsive, just like always. Now she’d die as punishment.
But the jaws never clamped down. Morgan ran a few steps before a yell ripped through the air, sending unseen animals scurrying in every direction and abusing her eardrums. Even with her instincts demanding she flee, she couldn’t help looking back over her shoulder. The scene that greeted her eyes skidded her to a stop.
A…man?
Yeah, a man. A huge one. His size rivaled the alligator—and that insane bulk was being used to wrestle the animal. Successfully. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Morgan actually thought the gator looked scared of the giant. The animal’s little arms flailed as the man flipped it over onto its back, one oversized hand clamping its jaw together so it couldn’t bite.
“No way,” Morgan whispered. “This is better than the Discovery Channel.”
And her ass needed to keep running. Because an alligator was terrifying, but a man that could wrestle one? Even scarier. Not to mention, the man-beast was utterly ripped with muscle—and was shirtless in overalls. Any city girl knew damn well that a shirtless man wearing overalls in a swamp was the beginning to a horror flick. She wasn’t about to be dragged to some shack where skulls of lost travelers lined the rafters and sharp implements dangled over a torture table. Nope. Fuck that noise.
Morgan spun on a heel and booked it, inwardly mourning the loss of her cell phone. She could very well be getting more and most lost, but at least she’d live to fight another day. The pain in her ankle throbbed, but knowing how much worse it could have been, she didn’t dwell.
The sound of footsteps behind Morgan brought the hammer of fear back down with a vengeance. It was the man. Alligators didn’t run—at least she didn’t think so. The footfalls were way too heavy, anyway. Oh God. He was gaining on her. She was fast, but not with a bum ankle. Best to face the threat with cool logic. Maybe she would be the Jamie Lee Curtis of this horror flick and make it out alive.
Morgan stopped and turned, holding her hands out. The man stopped, too, his face buried in the shadows, his acre-wide chest heaving with exertion. Holy shit. Up close, she saw the man was easily six foot seven, covered in chest hair and mud. Maybe even a little of his own blood. Big fists huge at his sides, the veins in his forearms stark in the creeping twilight. Repressed aggression hung on his body, the way heat emanates from a furnace.
If this man wanted, he could force himself on her. With ease.
A cold finger of apprehension trailed down her spine. Crazier things had happened than a weird, no-fatalities encounter in a swamp, though, right? Her only option was to pretend he was a decent human being who had only chased her down to inquire if she’d gotten lost.
Sure.
“L-look. Thank you for saving me back there. Much appreciated, man. Like. Wow.” Morgan paused to swallow the nerves gathering in her throat. “You didn’t happen to grab my cell phone…” Nothing from the man. Just more shuddering of that massive chest. “Okay, no worries. Could you just point me toward the road?”
His right hand rose, one thick finger pointing at her ankle. He grunted.
Oh God. How far had she walked that the locals didn’t even speak English?
“Um. Yeah, it’s fine. Just a scratch. I’ve done worse shaving my legs.”
She trailed off at that final word, berating herself for drawing attention to her legs. Morgan wasn’t stupid. The odds that a man could come across a helpless female in the swamp—no witnesses for miles—wouldn’t take advantage? Very slim. Her pulse started to dive and skip as a result. No, please. He’s too large. He’ll kill me.
Personalize yourself. Hadn’t she learned a single lesson from all those true crime shows? Talk to him. Make him view you as a human.
“My name is Morgan,” she started to ramble. “I’m eighteen. I’m, like, really into photography and making my own soap and…uh. I’ve been taking voice lessons as long as I can remember because my mother is an ex-opera singer and wanted me to follow in her footsteps, but I’m awful. Really all I want to do is listen to biographies on audiobook and play dumb games on my phone. But I’m going to school in the fall and I’ll be studying under one of the best photography professors in the country and…do you understand anything I’m saying?”
He pointed to her ankle again.
“It’s fine, dude.” Frustration at the whole situation crept into her tone. And if she was going to be murdered by a monosyllabic overall-wearing swamp thing, she wasn’t surrendering her pride. “You know you shouldn’t just ignore all the other stuff I said. It was kind of personal.”
The man shifted in his mud-caked boots. “I have a camera,” he rasped in a voice that sounded like burnt cigar ashes. “You can use it.”
Morgan stared. “What?”
Impatience seemed to ripple through him. Impatience at himself? “I’m Rixen.” He stepped into the dull light…and presented the most incredibly intimidating face she’d ever seen. Chiseled angles, a boxed jaw covered in a beard, and drooping eyelids. Damp black hair hung down and clung to his cheeks and forehead. “You’re the angel I asked for.” One hand dropped to the lap of his overalls, where he massaged a ridge of swelling flesh. “Come with me now so I can give thanks.”
Chapter 2
Rixen
Rixen must have done something to please his God. Look at the gift he’d been sent.
Years. He’d waited years for a woman—and although she was more of a girl, clearly his waiting had not been in vain. Because he’d been given the sweetest of all females. Her lack of size made him worry for obvious reasons. His lust was already building to such a fever pitch that maintaining control once he was locked in her tight little body seemed unrealistic. Rixen would, though. The idea of hurting this beautiful creature made him want to howl.
His attention shot to her bleeding ankle and he snarled, the hands at his sides clenched into shaking fists. Her first day in his swamp and she’d already been hurt. If he could go back in time and snap the alligator’s neck all over again, he would do it in a fucking heartbeat.
Soon as he healed Morgan’s injury, no harm would ever come to her again. The swamp would cower when she passed, knowing death would be visited upon anyone who came close.
Rixen took a slow breath, catching the scent of something tropical—coconut oil or tanning lotion—and his blood pumped harder. Heavier. Who was he kidding? Of all the animals in this place, he was the one she should fear the most. The throb in his cock was so severe that already he’d begun to leak great, sticky drops down his thigh. Every ounce that escaped became his enemy. All of the semen in his body was meant to be released inside his gift. Right between her honey-colored thighs. Now. Now.
Patience. You’ve waited this long and she is in pain.
As Rixen approached his female, he forced himself to stop pumping his dick through the denim of his overalls. It was making her nervous, if her chanting “personalize yourself” over and over again was any indication.
“I need to tend your wound, Morgan.” He let his gaze wander over her strawberry-blonde waves, wishing for light so he could determine the color of her eyes. “We will reach our home faster if I carry you.”
“Our home?” She paused in her litany, looking confused. “What did you mean, I’m the angel you asked for?”
“Exactly that. I’ve prayed for you. Every night for decades.” Another hot spurt of seed made a trail through his leg hair. “My two brothers already had their prayers answered, finding wives in town. I…” Embarrassment lanced him in the middle, remembering how vastly different his experiences had been compared to his brothers’. “I have not. Until now.”
“Oh, no. No, no. I’m not her.” Morgan tipped her head back and let out a relieved laugh. “This is one big misunderstanding. I’m just on vacation with my mother in Key Largo. Or I was until she started sucking face with a guy who owns way too much Tommy Bahama. And I blew a tire back on
the road.” She gave him a big smile and reached out to pat his shoulder once. “I’m not wifey, man. Glad we cleared this up.”
“You are…wifey.” The word sounded ridiculous on his tongue and he scowled, a bolt beginning to turn in his stomach. Was it possible his gift didn’t know she’d been sent for him?
If so, how would be convince her?
Unlike his brothers, Rixen held no appeal for women. He’d assumed when his angel arrived, she would be prepared to live with him in the swamp forever. Morgan seemed determined to leave as soon as possible. Was this another test of his strength? His decades of waiting were the first. Perhaps an unwilling mate was the next one? If so, he would conquer it. He would conquer anything for the girl in front of him.
The closer he got to Morgan, the more her beauty enraptured him. Not only due to the fullness of her mouth and the splattering of freckles on her nose. No, her spirit rang out like the church bells he sometimes heard in the distance. Honest and clear. She had been scared of the alligator, but also refused to give in to the fear. Rixen admired that. Admired the determination he’d seen in Morgan to keep running. And even now, she was clearly afraid of Rixen but refused to give an inch of ground. A fierce beauty all his own.
Mine.
God, his hands ached to unfasten her shorts and explore her pussy with his fingers. Would she be as warm and wet as he’d imagined all those lonely nights? What would it take for her to release a flood of pleasure into his waiting palm? He’d been studying books on how to mate ever since he’d woken up with soaked underwear as a teenager. Just waiting for this day. His chance to apply everything he’d learned. Now that Morgan stood in front of him, more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined, his wealth of knowledge didn’t seem like enough. Her perfection demanded the world.