by London Casey
“How do you know she’s not getting married, Mahpiya?”
Rahn sent utter shock resonating down the bond he shared with Mahpiya. He rolled his eyes in frustration as the image of the majestic lioness, lying in a comfortable heap licking her huge paws, faded from behind his eyes without answering his question.
The ship was underway on the three-day sail from Lisbon to the Balearic Islands in the south of Spain. It meant hunting on board until they made port. He didn’t particularly care for it. There weren’t enough dim or dark nooks to hide, which meant there just weren’t as many opportunities to genuinely enjoy stalking his prey.
His breathing quickened at the remembered thought of how the last woman had looked over her shoulder, her body stiff with fear when she’d realized that someone followed her. He’d stalked her for the entire time they’d been in port in Lisbon, all ten days. Each evening she’d walked from the middle of town to a small flat. Each night, her apprehension had grown more and more acute until he’d thought he might be able to reach out and eat a piece of it.
His cock swelled as his mind conjured the wide-eyed dread etched across her lovely features when he’d finally shown himself. He’d known the exact second she realized her life approached its end. Her last gasp, the last thump of her heart had brought with it such a heady rush of adrenaline, accompanied by a high so consuming he felt it down to his shoelaces. And he craved it again, would have it again.
Eden moved quietly through his bedroom to the closet where he gently stroked the black silk he so loved to wear. It never showed the blood and cleaned up nicely.
At sea, there were no pretty little females to follow through the darkness of the night or stalk from dark alleys. No overconfident, swaggering young men to approach in the gathering dark. No matter. There were plenty of people who considered themselves high class, and too good to mate with the men in his harem. It would be easy to keep his skills sharpened on them. He would simply practice on a hand-picked pawn aboard ship. After all, it was the sole reason they were on board, for his pleasure.
“At it again, I hear,” he mumbled to himself with a shake of his head and gently closed the bedroom door at the first screech of his harem mistress’s voice. She was no doubt on the case of one of the men again, scolding in a tone she never, ever used with him. Then again, she may be scolding them all.
“You will say nothing to our master,” her hard voice practically cut the air around her. “I am responsible for all of you and this is not outside the realm of my authority. I will deal with it,” said the lovely Egyptian female who called him “Beloved”. She was indeed responsible for the harem. In spite of her tendency to dominate those she was supposed to care for, she’d said nothing that caused him concern. Eden ignored the conversation. Whatever the issue, let her deal with it.
Dressed in severe black, the only break in the darkness around his body was a crisp, blinding white silk handkerchief expertly tucked into the top pocket of his dinner jacket. Clasping an onyx cufflink onto the sleeve of his black shirt, Eden made his way through the living room and over to his most prized possessions to make sure all was well before he stepped out for the evening.
They were sullen, but otherwise unharmed. Eden picked them up one by one and allowed them to touch his mind, speak to him about their troubles. First was the porcelain, bronze-skinned male he called Shaman. A prized Native American warrior, with a body so perfectly sculpted even he would have been tempted if the man were flesh and blood. He was beautiful, standing at almost twenty-four-inches tall, with perfect porcelain skin and jet black hair down to his solid waist. And as usual, the first thoughts he shared with his master were of how much he resented having to bow to the whims of a temperamental female harem mistress, no matter how exquisite.
After a few assuring words, Eden put Shaman back on the shelf and reached for the next work of perfection.
Celon was a blond-haired Viking if there ever was one. A little shorter than Shaman, he stood at twenty-three inches of porcelain perfection. Dressed in classic Norwegian garb reminiscent of the early ninth century, he sported a wide muscular chest, a narrow waist and thick legs. His expression was one of seduction. His creator must have been a female. Even one painted eyebrow was raised in invitation and one side of his perfect mouth tilted up into a sly smile. He was a predator, plain and simple. Yes, he was Eden’s favorite.
After listening to Celon’s short, clipped complaint about the pharaoh harem mistress, Eden smiled at the man as a final thought slipped into his mind. Celon wanted nothing more than to fuck the harem mistress silly until she gladly got on her knees and begged him to take her. Poetic justice, since that was her favorite position for all ten males in the harem—on their knees before her.
But Eden could not regret her behavior. He needed someone ruthless to keep his stable in line. And what was more ruthless than a female?
Last, he picked up Daven. The dark-skinned male reminded him of the Egyptian kings. More than once, he thought he’d spotted the figure of this doll on one of the tarot cards he studied. Egypt was, after all, in Africa. It would be no surprise to find a man like this exquisite creation as a former ruler of that amazing place. Skin as darkly smooth as his favorite coffee, Daven was a master of temptation, as were all of the men in his collection. Dark brown eyes set under even darker brows practically beckoned females to his bed. If he were standing before him in the flesh Eden might have even considered asking him for advice on securing the female, Chrysalyn.
Tonight Daven was clearly not in the mood to play. And, for once, he didn’t want to fuck the harem mistress. He wanted to beat her senseless. Why? The bitch had again selected a female for elimination that would have made a perfect mate for one in the harem.
His Japanese doll, Saraka, was enraged and distraught. The last woman the harem mistress had instructed Eden to hunt and ultimately destroy should have been Saraka’s mate.
Oh well, nothing to be done about it now. Eden said goodnight to all of his men and lifted the harem mistress from her perch. With her in his arms, he made a beeline for the couch in the massive living room and reached out to the stack of tarot.
What the hell? The Empress upside down again. Pinning his harem mistress with a hard stare, he pushed the words out of his mouth.
“What does this card mean when it’s not upside down?” he asked with an even, calm tone, though apprehension slipped down the backs of his legs.
It represents the woman who is important to you. As a male, it may be a woman you know or will meet who may become your friend, lover or mate. It may also mean that you are entering a time of overflow, abundance and prosperity. Opportunities may very well come upon you from out of nowhere, she replied quietly, carefully.
“Yes, but if all this comes about when the Empress is right side up, then the upside-down card must mean I am headed for trouble,” Eden pressed roughly, unfamiliar with the apprehension twitching around in his gut. And he didn’t like it one bit. He knew only one thing—his Egyptian flower had better tell him what he wanted to hear.
If this card pertained to you, then perhaps what you say is true. However, I do not believe you are selecting this card for yourself, but for a person you have yet to come across. Perhaps this card tells us the future of your next task? she said in a soothing timbre.
“You’d better fucking be right,” he said calmly, kissing her lightly on each brow. With less than two hours before the ship left port, tonight he had to be precise in order to handle his business and get back on board in time.
Easing open her resting place, Eden set her gently on the top shelf of the glass cabinet and asked, “So, who shall it be tonight?” He stroked the top of her glossy head, loving the silky slide of her ethnic braids through his fingers. He paused mid-stroke and pinned her with a level stare. “And no more targeting the females who are meant for the men.”
Her angry sigh echoed in his head, but he knew she would not gainsay him. At least not out loud.
Chapter Thre
e
“Nope, definitely not a morning person,” Rahn moaned to himself. Damn, even floating on water with the sun beaming into his room, warm and bright, he still wanted nothing more than to stuff the pillow over his head and tell the day to go to hell.
Well, no hope for it. He had a case to solve and a woman to protect. And that woman, who had always risen with the chickens, was no doubt up and about. Too bad he couldn’t protect her in bed. Hmmm, then again, she was single again. Just maybe…
Kicking the covers off with a loud huff, Rahn pushed to his feet and stood there a moment. The view through the huge beveled glass window no more than three feet from his bed was incredible. He could see past the private deck and out to sea, where the sun shone down from a clear sky. The light reflected off the dark blue water, causing it to sparkle like the finest London blue topaz gems. And there was nothing else but ocean and more ocean. God, he hated deep water. Anything deeper than a bathtub was out of his comfort zone. If the ship went down on its way through the Mediterranean straits, it would be all he could do to stay afloat long enough to be rescued. And it was going to take three whole days to get to Ibiza? Damn.
Well, at least the ship was large enough that he wouldn’t be constantly bent over the railing feeding the fish every time he had a bite to eat. With a snort, he dragged himself to his private bath.
Already bored, his mind sought for something to think on besides the case that brought him here. But until he checked in with his boss, Geri, for an intel update there was no need to dwell on it.
His thoughts drifted to Chrysalyn and the bomb Mahpiya had dropped on him last night. Chrysalyn was lonely? He still didn’t understand it.
“Mah, come to me,” he whispered around his toothbrush. At least his eyes were open and he was beginning to recall how to focus. Damn, he was tired. Mahpiya eased to the forefront of his mind, the slabs of dense muscle under her tawny coat flexing as she moved. He closed his eyes a second and grinned when the great cat flopped down on her stomach, raised her amber eyes and waited for him to speak.
Glad no one was around, so that he could speak out loud, Rahn jumped right in and said, “I wonder what the hell happened to Chrysalyn, Mah. I mean, the last time I saw her, she was engaged to that asshole, Kevin or Calvin or something like that. What the bloody hell went down? It’s times like this I wish you could pop over to wherever she is and read her mind.”
Shaking his head in wonder, he was still unable to believe the one woman he knew he couldn’t live without was somewhere around this sprawling apartment. And she was available. Heading for the shower, he stopped short at Mahpiya’s next words.
*There is no need for mind reading. Chrysalyn Geyer is your mate.*
Whoa! Back up. Rahn spun around so fast the clear glass door to the huge stall he’d just opened smacked him soundly on the knuckles. Rubbing the now-tender skin, he reached into his mind, demanding an explanation.
“Mah, how the hell can you know that?” When she didn’t immediately reply, he summoned the feline onto this plane so he could look her in the eyes. “Mahpiya, come to me. Right now.”
The sleek African lioness disappeared from behind his eyes and shimmered into her corporeal form right in front of him. Damn, she was huge—four feet tall and almost four-hundred-eighty pounds of raw power. At the top of the food chain, her earthly cousins were the perfect hunters. And Mahpiya was no less formidable. With the ability to speak mind-to-mind with those in her care, Rahn tended to forget how majestically imposing Mahpiya was. He immediately lowered his head and asked her forgiveness for his impertinence. After all, she served him at her pleasure. He was blessed to have such a wise companion.
Stepping into the shower, he dunked his head under the lukewarm flow and exhaled sharply. The scent of his favorite sandalwood soap filled the oversized stall.
“Okay, Mah, what do you mean, Chrysalyn is my mate?” Could it be? Chrysalyn, the woman perfect for him? He should have been shocked, so why wasn’t he? Because Chrysalyn had been everything he’d ever dreamed of in a woman, a real class act. All he’d had to do was pursue her. But noooo, he’d been an idiot and allowed himself to be, uh, distracted by woman who’d chased after him instead. He’d learned later that same woman not only pursued him, but any other cock she could get her hands on. Hell, she had even slept with his best friend. Claimed it was all part of the job as an undercover. Yeah, right.
Obviously, their relationship hadn’t lasted, but by the time he’d pulled his head out of his ass, Chrysalyn had moved on to someone who treated her like she deserved. The two had been engaged to be married and the woman seemed happy enough. So what happened?
He was snapped out of his musings by Mahpiya’s sharp words and sultry voice.
*Get dressed, hoksila. You must be about your business. Your mate awaits you.*
With that, Mahpiya herded him out of the shower and back into his room with an urgency that had him moving double time. Was something wrong? Was Chrysalyn in danger? And where the hell was the woman, anyway? And hadn’t Mah mentioned a spirit guide before?
*If you stop thinking, you can move faster,* Mahpiya growled before swatting him across the backside with a large paw.
“Ouch! Damn it, that hurt,” Rahn yelped, hoping the impending welts didn’t cause him too much discomfort later. A faint sound caught his attention as he fished around for underwear and a pair of sport socks in his dresser drawer. Lifting his eyes toward the quiet splash, Rahn spied an unlikely vision through the glass doors leading out to the deck.
Holy shit! Chrysalyn basked under the early morning sunshine, her body partially hidden by the swirling rush of hot water in the oversized hot tub. Arms spread out to her sides, the swell of her breasts was just visible above the waterline. Her delicious, cinnamon skin gleamed enticingly, wet from the steam and droplets peppering her beautiful body. The leopard-print swimsuit plastered to her curves sent a rush of heat straight to his cock. Her hair was loose and little curls framed her strong jawline as she laid her head back, eyes closed and…puffed? On a cigar?
His cock screamed as he stood there, mute and unable to get a single muscle in his body to move. She was so damned sexy. And here he stood with another chance to have her and he couldn’t draw his eyes away from the window.
Another swat across his buttocks took care of that.
“Okay, already! I’m going, Mah.”
*Excellent,* she purred as her corporeal form shimmered away.
Not like he needed any further encouragement. One peek at the exquisite woman lounging in the tub had his dick stiffer and hotter than a fireplace poker left sitting on top of a burning log.
The next moment found Rahn moving toward the doors with sheer determination in his stride. He headed across the deck and straight toward the hot tub and the succulent woman awaiting him.
The second the hair started dancing on the back of her neck, Chrysalyn’s brows drew together in a fierce frown. Forcing the muscles of her face to relax until she was the epitome of absolute calm, she called to her spirit guide.
Reaching out with her mind, she asked, ‘Adonei, who’s approaching?’
*Do not worry, my charge. There is no danger.*
‘I don’t give a shit if there’s danger. I don’t like people sneaking up on me.’
And who the hell wanted to admit the man was making plenty of noise. The loud snap of the glass doors to his room and the soft flap of his bare feet on the wood deck told her who approached. His fresh masculine scent stole over her, carried on the easy ocean breeze. Oh great! Now her stomach was doing the butterfly samba. What the hell was there to be so giddy about? It was only Rahn, right? It was only the man she should have married three years ago. The man whose smooth tenor English accent sent little strokes of heat up the back of her knees. Whose sexy smile and killer physique made her want to do all sorts of nasty things to him.
The bastard who fell for a horse-humping bitch who wanted nothing more than to prove she could steal him. And he’d fallen fo
r it, the idiot.
*Ease yourself, Chrysalyn. You are screaming in my ear,* Adonei scolded with a deep growl. His annoyed expression was crystal clear in her head, along with the bored roll of his eyes. How an African lion managed to roll his eyes, she would never know. And she was not screaming, damn it!
“Chrysalyn?”
Sitting up, she opened her eyes and watched Rahn approach. Tangy ocean mist drifted up from the wake as the huge ship cut gently through the waves. It tickled her nose. She liked the way it smelled. The sun had risen only an hour before, but the deck was already nicely warmed and comfortable. Add the barely perceptible rocking of the sea and her day was perfect. But the vivid blues painted across the sky, the smell of the sea, the opulence of her private dwelling, all of it paled in comparison to the gloriously naked man coming her way. His stride was long, but easy, kind of reminding her of Adonei when he was hunting some imaginary prey.
The sweet chocolate and coffee smoke of her Kahlua cigar drifted like silken threads of aromatic decadence. The scent of the indulgence she enjoyed every now and again made her think of how long and thick the hand-rolled treat was, which in turn carried her wayward thoughts to other similarly shaped objects that would fit nicely perched between her lips. Aw, hell.
Reaching up, she plucked the fat Kahlua cigar from her lips and set it in the sleek ashtray just off to her left. Sounding as bored as Adonei’s eye-rolling looked, her voice lacked any kind of warmth as she answered his call.
“Yeah, what, Rahn?”
*There is no need to be rude, Chrysalyn.* Adonei again. Didn’t the cat have somewhere to go?
‘Says who? I was perfectly fine out here all by myself. What the hell does he want anyway?’ she grumbled back at her spirit guide, who was becoming more and more a pain in the backside lately with all his male logic.
*He is not a danger to you, woman. However, that black-clothed fellow does concern me.*