by T. S. Joyce
SON OF KONG
(SONS OF BEASTS, BOOK 2)
By T. S. JOYCE
Other Books in this Series
Son of the Cursed Bear (Book 1)
Son of the Dragon – Coming September 2017
Son of Kong
Copyright © 2017 by T. S. Joyce
Copyright © 2017, T. S. Joyce
First electronic publication: August 2017
T. S. Joyce
www.tsjoyce.com
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America.
Cover Image: Wander Aguiar
Cover Model: Jonny James
Contents
Other Books in this Series
Copyright
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
Epilogue
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About the Author
Chapter One
Torren had messed up again.
He blew out a frustrated breath and rocked his head back against the shower tile. The steaming water burned his mangled knuckles and ran rivers of dark crimson down the drain between his ankles. He’d been sitting here for five minutes trying to calm his heart rate, but it wasn’t working. Nothing did anymore.
That guy deserved the beating he got.
Fuck you, HavoK.
The public had just recently named his gorilla. Havoc for the crew his sister was in but with a K because he was the new Kong. Clever. It suited his gorilla just fine, so he’d been calling his animal that ever since the name had been splattered over the news like road kill after Covington burned.
Three huffed breaths, and a snarl blasted up his throat. His body tensed painfully as the silverback tried to take it again. He was sitting under the running water, heat turned up as high as it would go. Gritting his teeth against the burning of his muscles, Torren slammed his head back onto the tile three times and clenched his fists on his bent knees so hard, his blunt nails dug into his skin.
Vyr needed to put him down soon. His best friend, The Red Dragon, hated discussing it, but they couldn’t avoid it forever. Torren was a monster, and as much as he pretended to be a normal shifter, he simply wasn’t. He was the son of Kong. Marked with a big birthmark that covered most of his back. A birthmark that said he was supposed to be the silverback of the biggest family group. He was supposed to be the leading silverback in his shifter culture. And what had he done instead? Shunned his people because they were damn-near evil, and he wanted nothing to do with them.
Too bad his morals were killing him.
Too long with no family group under him, and now his fully mature silverback had hopped the crazy train and was riding it all the way down to Hell.
A knock sounded at the door.
“No,” Torren said, but his voice wasn’t human. It was too low and gritty.
Another knock banged on the door.
“I said fuck off, Vyr!”
The door swung open so hard it banked on the bathroom wall with a crash.
“Technically,” Nox Fuller said, “you said ‘no,’ and then you said ‘fuck off.’ Also, I’m not Vyr. Clearly. He is hideous, and I am the finest specimen of a man—”
“Nox, I’m in the shower, and if you say another word, I’m going to beat the shit out of you.”
“Been there, done that, got the scars,” he sang. He opened the huge shower door and, fully clothed in jeans and a black and white plaid shirt, sat on the other side of the sprawling shower, facing Torren. “Might wanna cover your dick-imus minimus. I can see your balls.”
Torren rolled his eyes closed and counted to three so he wouldn’t Change and rip Ob-Nox-ious’s throat out. And while he did that, he also clamped his legs together. “You know how you asked me to tell you when you were acting inappropriately?”
“So we can laugh together, best-friend-style?”
“No, to teach you basic social interactions and manners. That’s what you said.”
Nox’s blond eyebrows shot up, and he ran his hands through his laid-down mohawk. “Hmmm, I don’t remember that last part. I just like when you tell me I’m being bad so I can smile.”
“This is one of those inappropriate times. You shouldn’t be sitting in the shower with me.”
“Nevada said I need to try harder to speak your language.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Torren groaned out. He was so exhausted he would give just about anything to have the power to snap his fingers and wish Nox away. He needed a week off from this idiot.
“You gotta gorilla problem.”
“Thank you for stating the most obvious thing on the planet.”
“Like…you don’t even try to hide the monster in your eyes anymore. You haven’t had brown eyes in three days. I’ve been watching.”
“Congrats on being a stage-five stalker.”
Nox smiled. “Thank you. Speaking of stalking, I followed you to the sawmill and watched you beat the shit out of those three boar shifters. You’re gonna start attracting attention our crew doesn’t need. Vyr is gonna burn your body, eat you, and puke you up, then yell at you and eat you again.”
“Well, what Vyr doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”
Nox rested his head back against the tile and narrowed his eyes, looked down his nose at Torren. “You need poontang.”
Torren frowned. He never could keep up with Nox’s train of thought. “What?”
“A mate.” He gestured to Torren’s healing knuckles, still bleeding a snaking stream of maroon onto the tile and into the drain. “You need steady sex.”
“I need you to leave.”
“And BJs.”
“Seriously, get out.”
“Nevada gives me head like three times a week, and I feel fine.”
“You Change all the time and you fight me every day.”
“So? I still feel fine.”
Torren heaved a sigh that turned into a deep rumble in his chest. Talking to Nox was exhausting. “I don’t need a mate. I just need to be left alone for a little while.”
“Well, as your new best friend—”
“You’re not my best friend. I can barely stand you.”
“Well, last week you said you hated me seven times, and now you can barely stand me so that’s best-friend improvement. Plus, when you find out what I’ve done for you, you are going to fall into friend love with me, and Nevada will be proud, and I’ll get even more head.”
“Nox! Go. Away!”
Nox pulled a piece of soggy paper out of his back pocket, leaned forward, and handed it to Torren. “You’re welcome,” he whispered like a weirdo.
God, he hated Nox.
Torren snatched it out of his hand and unfolded it, ripping the wet paper in two places with his roughness. The ink was smeared, but he could still read it.
Cinnamon. There was a phone number underneath. “Cinnamon sounds like a stripper name.”
“A hot stripper name,” Nox agreed, nodding once. “And she’s agreed to bang you once a day for two hundred dollars a week. She even promised to let you call her your mate.”
Torren pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes to alleviate the headache that was building there. His right eye began twitching. Nox had that effect on people. “Can you please let me finish my shower now?”
“If you say I’m your new best friend. And that Vyr sucks and is a dickhole and you hate him.”
“I’m not going to say that.”
“Fine, say that you strongly dislike him.”
Torren wanted to sleep for three days. Maybe Nevada would knock him over the head with a frying pan. Or maybe he could convince Vyr to burn him and eat his ashes now. It would be quick and painless, unlike this conversation that was killing him little by little.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Ob-Nox-ious murmured, flicking two fingers at him.
Torren offered Nox a slow, exhausted blink. “If you don’t get out, I’m going to tell Nevada how you pissed on that electric fence when you were twenty-five and electrocuted yourself, and then you’ll get zero head because she’ll realize how dumb you are.”
Nox’s eyes went wide. “I’ll see you at breakfast,” he rushed out as he lurched up and scrambled out of the shower. “Cinnamon is waiting on your call. Give her tube socks. Girls dig that shit.” The door slammed closed.
Torren stared at his half-healed knuckles. He couldn’t stop fighting, couldn’t stop Changing, couldn’t stop the anger that was always roiling inside of him. He could feel it—he was dangerous now. Not to Vyr and not to Nox, who could defend themselves from his gorilla, but from any dominant male—shifter or human—who crossed his path.
And for a moment, he considered the dripping piece of scrap paper between his fingers. A stranger mate wouldn’t soothe him, though. She would make him worse. Angry at the world, he ran his thumb over the paper and smeared the phone number to oblivion.
Nox might have meant well, but Torren knew exactly what he was. He’d known it for years. He, Torren, the Son of Kong and the destined leader of the gorilla shifters, had shunned his fate. And in doing so, he’d made himself into a lost cause.
Chapter Two
Candace Sumner shouldn’t be here.
Not just in this town, or in the job she worked, or in the crappy apartment she leased, or even in this half of the country. She shouldn’t be in the parking lot of the Foxburg Public Library. She definitely shouldn’t be thinking of Nox Fuller’s suggestion that she bone a gorilla shifter once a day for money. And she absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about stalking the shy, curvy, mouse of a personality who had stood timidly against the wall when Nox came into Jem’s Exotic Dance Room last week. Nevada Foxburg had been fun to hunt, but she was too people-shy and probably wouldn’t give up any answers. Candace was going to have to take this slow and easy with her.
And yet, here she was, about to really do this. Because why the hell not? Her life couldn’t get any more pathetic, really, so why wouldn’t she take a stab at something better? Plus, she’d researched the Son of Kong. Everyone had started calling him HavoK, but in her mind, he was Prince Kong. He was seven shades of sexy, dominant male, and she was sick of feeling unsafe in her life. Maybe they could be good for each other. Or be friends. With benefits. At least for a little while before she chased him away like she did with everyone else.
When she’d tried to find the man who made the offer, Nox Fuller turned out to be a ghost. Candace had only had Nevada’s first name to go by, but she’d been able to track her down easily enough. It was a unique name, and Foxburg was a small town.
Her old Volvo began shaking hard, and she gripped the steering wheel with one hand and turned it off quickly with the other. It was on its last legs, but she couldn’t afford a new one. She was drowning under Dad’s medical bills. She couldn’t even afford an oil change right now. She was in such a desperate situation, she didn’t know what else to do. The debt collectors were getting out of control, and she was spiraling trying to keep up with the bills.
God, she’d fallen so far.
She expelled an explosive sigh and glared at the small, beige brick library. You can do this.
Candace shoved the last three cold french fries from the bottom of the Wendy’s bag into her maw. This was breakfast, lunch, and dinner today. Ninety-nine cent fries, because that’s all the food budget allowed until she made some cash on her shift tonight. She had to make a hundred and fifty bucks to make her overdue electric bill tomorrow or her lights were going to be shut off. Again. And no electricity in a Pennsylvania winter was miserable. She knew, because she’d spent half of last winter with just a propane-powered space heater at Dad’s house. Fuck. Don’t think about that.
Candace zipped up her jacket and shoved open her door, then slipped and slid across the frozen parking lot to the front door of the library. There was nobody there that she could see except for the curvy brunette, Nevada, behind the counter. Candace stomped the snow off her boots and approached the golden-eyed beauty. Carl would flip out if a girl like Nevada Foxburg came into Jem’s looking for a job. He told Candace at least twice a shift she was too skinny and her boobs were too small. Carl was a sweetheart of a boss.
Before Candice reached the counter, Nevada had dropped her gaze to a stack of bookmarks. “H-hi.”
“Hey. You came into my club last week. I don’t know if you remember me—”
“Oh, I super-remember you. You wrapped your legs around a pole…and…shook your…you know.” Nevada’s face went bright red before she blurted out, “It was my first time in a strip club and I only went because Nox said everyone should go to a club at least once and also because he was looking for a friend for Torren, and I didn’t mean to see your nipple tassels.” The woman looked completely mortified as she clapped her hand over her mouth and whispered through her fingers, “But I did.”
Candace giggled. “Almost the entire male half of this town has seen my nipple tassels. It’s okay.”
“Right. Are you looking for book recommendations? Or…”
“Yes,” Candace murmured out of curiosity. “Lay it on me. What books do you think I need?”
“Ummm…you probably make a lot of cash, and we have a good business section. Bookkeeping for Dummies?”
Candace’s mouth flopped open.
“Sorry, that sounded bad. I just meant it could help you keep track of your earnings. For taxes? How about step-by-step dance books? Not that you need help with that. You dance really…erotically.”
Candace pursed her lips so she wouldn’t laugh. She should possibly be offended, but this girl was kind of funny.
“Romance? I just read one about a pirate that was kind of good. I’m going to stop talking now.” Her voice had tapered off into a soft whisper and her cheeks were bright red.
That’s when Candace noticed the scars. Nevada’s left cheek was uneven with deep, silver scarring she’d covered with make-up. Huh.
“I’m pretty terrible at book-keeping and taxes. I get audited almost every year,” Candace admitted to make her feel better.
Nevada covered her cheeks with her hands as if trying to cool them, or perhaps hide the scars Candace was staring at. Nevada offered a slight smile. “I get the feeling you aren’t actually here to check out books.”
“That I am not. I don’t read much. Unless you count gossip magazines while I wait in line at the grocery store.”
“Those totally count.” Nevada scrunched up her nose. “Is this about Nox’s
business proposal the other night?”
Candace nodded.
“Yeah, I’m really sorry about him. He comes up with ideas, but sometimes they’re completely inappropriate. I try to stop him, but—”
“I think it’s a great idea.”
Nevada must have sucked her gum down her throat because she horked it onto the counter and went into a coughing fit. When she recovered, she gasped out, “You want to sleep with Torren for money?”
“Um, no. Well…maybe. I want him to take me out a few times first to see if this is even something I would be able to do and still live with myself.”
“Are you a p-p-prostitute?” Nevada whisper screamed.
“What? No! I’ve never slept with anyone for money. I just dance. For people. For money.” Ew, she was feeling guilty and a little judged right now. “I need the money and also…” She swallowed hard and struggled to finish her admission.
As Nevada searched her face, her eyes softened by whatever she saw there. “Also what?”
Candace’s eyes burned and blurred with instant stupid tears. She shrugged. Well, what the hell? She didn’t have anything to lose—that was the beauty of rock bottom. “Also, I want an adventure. I want the chance at a new friend. The chance at getting to meet someone outside of my job. Outside of my life. The chance to get out of the routine of sleep, worry over money, dance, and feel…”
“Horrible?” Nevada asked softly, brushing her fingertip over her scarred cheek.
“Yeah. Sounds silly, asking about some weird arrangement with a gorilla shifter I don’t even know. But that’s where I’m at.”
“You want a change?”
A tear slipped to Candace’s cheek, and she dashed it away quickly, gave a curt nod. “I would give anything for a change,” she said thickly.
Nevada’s eyes were rimmed with moisture, and her smile trembled. There was utter honesty in her voice when she murmured, “I understand.” And then she scribbled an address on the back of a bookmark and slid it across the counter. “Be here at six. The boys don’t like to wait on dinner. I’m sure it’ll be something classy like hotdogs and beer. Dress accordingly.”