by Skye Warren
On my bed there’s a woman.
She doesn’t glance up from the textbook that’s open in front of her. “I thought the dorm rooms at U of I were small, but this is something else.” Then she does look up, and her dark eyes turn wide at the sight of my half-naked body. Or maybe it’s the thickening cock tenting the towel that makes her look wary. It has been two weeks. “There’s barely room to walk around.”
“I thought you were coming tomorrow.”
“Class let out early, and I figured, why spend the night wishing I were here? That was before I knew about the twin-size bed. Seriously, how do you sleep in this thing?”
Affecting a casual manner, I walk over to my dresser. I’m turned away from her when I drop the towel, but I still hear her gasp. “We could grab a room at The Rose and Crown Motel.”
She makes a sound of distaste. “No, thank you.”
I turn and walk toward her. She averts her eyes, but there’s a telltale darkening on her cheeks. My little artist still blushes when she sees a man in the nude. I bend over her, and she leans back. I’m naked and aching for her. She’s fully dressed. It’s the exact opposite of how we were when I cared for her. “Maybe you can give me a bath.”
“You just showered,” she says, half laughing.
“Well then, I’m out of ideas.”
She glances up at me, a little shy, a little knowing. “Are you?”
Sex. That’s what she’s suggesting, and lord knows my cock is ready. I imagine I’ll take her two, maybe three times before I finally have enough control to converse with her. Before that there’s something I need to show her. Something I need to ask. Nervousness tightens my stomach, but I reach over to my side table. It’s not hard, because she’s right—this room is fucking small. It was never meant for two people. Maybe not even one. It won’t matter soon.
I hold out a folded-up packet of papers. “I have one more idea.”
She opens the papers. Those beautiful eyes widen. “What’s this?”
There’s doubt in my throat. Or maybe it’s hope, like Gabriel said once. Maybe it’s love. “Travel. Since neither of us has a place to settle down, we can explore a little first.”
“Oh, my God. Anders.”
That’s not exactly a yes. “I thought… Hell, this might be the wrong idea, but I thought we could go to the Philippines. They need doctors there right now. Even more than the west side, which is saying something. I thought I could do some good there.”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m coming with you.”
“And I thought you could paint. Not all the time. There’d be some traveling. And some… living in tents. It’s not exactly comfortable. But it’s…”
“It’s human. It’s living.”
“Exactly.” It’s dying, too. Less dying, though, if I can help. “Though we could probably visit some regular places, if you want. London and Greece and—”
She throws her arms around my neck, and I stagger back, catching her. Enough talking. Her warmth and her weight, it’s too much for my hard cock to handle. I can only kiss her and touch her. Only reach down to open her jeans. Then I’m inside her, thrusting, fighting, struggling to get deeper. It’s human. That’s the one constant. Not money. Desire to connect, to get closer, to fuse my body to hers. And when I’m all the way there, pulsing deep, feeling her thrash under me, ripple around me, I know that this, this, is finally living.
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THE BISHOP by Skye Warren
A Tanglewood Novella
TAKEN WITH YOU by Carrie Ann Ryan
A Fractured Connections Novella
DRAGON LOST by Donna Grant
A Dark Kings Novella
SEXY LOVE by Carly Phillips
A Sexy Series Novella
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An Arizona Vengeance Novella
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A Charley Davidson Novella
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A Masters and Mercenaries Novella
SACRIFICE OF DARKNESS by Alexandra Ivy
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A Wicked Novella
BEGIN AGAIN by Jennifer Probst
A Stay Novella
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A Slay Series Novella
THE DEAD HEAT OF SUMMER by Heather Graham
A Krewe of Hunters Novella
WILD FIRE by Kristen Ashley
A Chaos Novella
MORE THAN PROTECT YOU by Shayla Black
A More Than Words Novella
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A Stage Dive Novella
CHERISH ME by J. Kenner
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A Stark International Novel
The Pawn
By Skye Warren
Now Available
One-click The Pawn now!
The price of survival…
Gabriel Miller swept into my life like a storm. He tore down my father with cold retribution, leaving him penniless in a hospital bed. I quit my private all-girl’s college to take care of the only family I have left.
There’s one way to save our house, one thing I have left of value.
My virginity.
A forbidden auction…
Gabriel appears at every turn. He seems to take pleasure in watching me fall. Other times he’s the only kindness in a brutal underworld.
Except he’s playing a deeper game than I know. Every move brings us together, every secret rips us apart. And when the final piece is played, only one of us can be left standing.
“Skye Warren’s THE PAWN is a triumph of intrigue, angst, and sensual drama. I was clenching everything. Gabriel and Avery sucked me in from the first few paragraphs and never let go.” – New York Times bestselling author Annabel Joseph
* * * *
Wind whips around my ankles, flapping the bottom of my black trench coat. Beads of moisture form on my eyelashes. In the short walk from the cab to the stoop, my skin has slicked with humidity left by the rain.
Carved vines and ivy leaves decorate the ornate wooden door.
I have some knowledge of antique pieces, but I can’t imagine the price tag on this one—especially exposed to the elements and the whims of vandals. I suppose even criminals know enough to leave the Den alone.
Officially the Den is a gentlemen’s club, the old-world kind with cigars and private invitations. Unofficially it’s a collection of the most powerful men in Tanglewood. Dangerous men. Criminals, even if they wear a suit while breaking the law.
A heavy brass knocker in the shape of a fierce lion warns away any visitors. I’m desperate enough to ignore that warning. My heart thuds in my chest and expands out, pulsing in my fingers, my toes. Blood rushes through my ears, drowning out the whoosh of traffic behind me.
I grasp the thick ring and knock—once, twice.
Part of me fears what will happen to me behind that door. A bigger part of me is afraid the door won’t open at all. I can’t see any cameras set into the concrete enclave, but they have to be watching. Will they recognize me? I’m not sure it would help if they did. Probably best that they see only a desperate girl, because that’s all I am now.
>
The softest scrape comes from the door. Then it opens.
I’m struck by his eyes, a deep amber color—like expensive brandy and almost translucent. My breath catches in my throat, lips frozen against words like please and help. Instinctively I know they won’t work; this isn’t a man given to mercy. The tailored cut of his shirt, its sleeves carelessly rolled up, tells me he’ll extract a price. One I can’t afford to pay.
There should have been a servant, I thought. A butler. Isn’t that what fancy gentlemen’s clubs have? Or maybe some kind of a security guard. Even our house had a housekeeper answer the door—at least, before. Before we fell from grace.
Before my world fell apart.
The man makes no move to speak, to invite me in or turn me away. Instead he stares at me with vague curiosity, with a trace of pity, the way one might watch an animal in the zoo. That might be how the whole world looks to these men, who have more money than God, more power than the president.
That might be how I looked at the world, before.
My throat feels tight, as if my body fights this move, even while my mind knows it’s the only option. “I need to speak with Damon Scott.”
Scott is the most notorious loan shark in the city. He deals with large sums of money, and nothing less will get me through this. We have been introduced, and he left polite society by the time I was old enough to attend events regularly. There were whispers, even then, about the young man with ambition. Back then he had ties to the underworld—and now he’s its king.
One thick eyebrow rises. “What do you want with him?”
A sense of familiarity fills the space between us even though I know we haven’t met. This man is a stranger, but he looks at me as if he wants to know me. He looks at me as if he already does. There’s an intensity to his eyes when they sweep over my face, as firm and as telling as a touch.
“I need…” My heart thuds as I think about all the things I need—a rewind button. One person in the city who doesn’t hate me by name alone. “I need a loan.”
He gives me a slow perusal, from the nervous slide of my tongue along my lips to the high neckline of my clothes. I tried to dress professionally—a black cowl-necked sweater and pencil skirt. His strange amber gaze unbuttons my coat, pulls away the expensive cotton, tears off the fabric of my bra and panties. He sees right through me, and I shiver as a ripple of awareness runs over my skin.
I’ve met a million men in my life. Shaken hands. Smiled. I’ve never felt as seen through as I do right now. Never felt like someone has turned me inside out, every dark secret exposed to the harsh light. He sees my weaknesses, and from the cruel set of his mouth, he likes them.
His lids lower. “And what do you have for collateral?”
Nothing except my word. That wouldn’t be worth anything if he knew my name. I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t know.”
Nothing.
He takes a step forward, and suddenly I’m crowded against the brick wall beside the door, his large body blocking out the warm light from inside. He feels like a furnace in front of me, the heat of him in sharp contrast to the cold brick at my back. “What’s your name, girl?”
The word girl is a slap in the face. I force myself not to flinch, but it’s hard. Everything about him overwhelms me—his size, his low voice. “I’ll tell Mr. Scott my name.”
In the shadowed space between us, his smile spreads, white and taunting. The pleasure that lights his strange yellow eyes is almost sensual, as if I caressed him. “You’ll have to get past me.”
My heart thuds. He likes that I’m challenging him, and God, that’s even worse. What if I’ve already failed? I’m free-falling, tumbling, turning over without a single hope to anchor me. Where will I go if he turns me away? What will happen to my father?
“Let me go,” I whisper, but my hope fades fast.
His eyes flash with warning. “Little Avery James, all grown up.”
A small gasp resounds in the space between us. He already knows my name. That means he knows who my father is. He knows what he’s done. Denials rush to my throat, pleas for understanding. The hard set of his eyes, the broad strength of his shoulders tells me I won’t find any mercy here.
I square my shoulders. I’m desperate but not broken. “If you know my name, you know I have friends in high places. Connections. A history in this city. That has to be worth something. That’s my collateral.”
Those connections might not even take my call, but I have to try something. I don’t know if it will be enough for a loan or even to get me through the door. Even so, a faint feeling of family pride rushes over my skin. Even if he turns me away, I’ll hold my head high.
Golden eyes study me. Something about the way he said little Avery James felt familiar, but I’ve never seen this man. At least I don’t think we’ve met. Something about the otherworldly glow of those eyes whispers to me, like a melody I’ve heard before.
On his driver’s license it probably says something mundane, like brown. But that word can never encompass the way his eyes seem almost luminous, orbs of amber that hold the secrets of the universe. Brown can never describe the deep golden hue of them, the indelible opulence in his fierce gaze.
“Follow me,” he says.
Relief courses through me, flooding numb limbs, waking me up enough that I wonder what I’m doing here. These aren’t men, they’re animals. They’re predators, and I’m prey. Why would I willingly walk inside?
What other choice do I have?
I step over the veined marble threshold.
The man closes the door behind me, shutting out the rain and the traffic, the entire city disappeared in one soft turn of the lock. Without another word he walks down the hall, deeper into the shadows. I hurry to follow him, my chin held high, shoulders back, for all the world as if I were an invited guest. Is this how the gazelle feels when she runs over the plains, a study in grace, poised for her slaughter?
The entire world goes black behind the staircase, only breath, only bodies in the dark. Then he opens another thick wooden door, revealing a dimly lit room of cherrywood and cut crystal, of leather and smoke. Barely I see dark eyes, dark suits. Dark men.
I have the sudden urge to hide behind the man with the golden eyes. He’s wide and tall, with hands that could wrap around my waist. He’s a giant of a man, rough-hewn and hard as stone.
Except he’s not here to protect me.
He could be the most dangerous of all.
Discover the World Of 1001 Dark Nights
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and Simon Lipskar
Table of Contents
Book Description
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
&
nbsp; Chapter Fifteen