by I. T. Lucas
Ella’s rescue should’ve ended that chapter in her life, but it seems like the road back to normalcy has just begun and it’s full of obstacles. Between the pitying looks she gets and her mother’s attempts to get her into therapy, Ella feels like she’s typecast as a victim, when nothing could be further from the truth. She’s a tough survivor, and she’s going to prove it.
Strangely, the only one who seems to understand is Logan, who keeps popping up in her dreams. But then, he’s a figment of her imagination—or is he?
27
Dark Dream’s Unraveling
While trying to figure out a way around Logan's silencing compulsion, Ella concocts an ambitious plan. What if instead of trying to keep him out of her dreams, she could pretend to like him and lure him into a trap?
Catching Navuh’s son would be a major boon for the clan, as well as for Ella. She will have her revenge, turning the tables on another scumbag out to get her.
28
Dark Dream’s Trap
The trap is set, but who is the hunter and who is the prey? Find out in this heart-pounding conclusion to the Dark Dream trilogy.
29
Dark Prince’s Enigma
As the son of the most dangerous male on the planet, Lokan lives by three rules:
Don’t trust a soul.
Don’t show emotions.
And don’t get attached.
Will one extraordinary woman make him break all three?
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Excerpt: Perfect Match 2
King’s Chosen
King’s Chosen
When Lisa’s nutty friends get her a gift certificate to Perfect Match Virtual Fantasy Studios, she has no intentions of using it. But since the only way to get a refund is if no partner can be found for her, she makes sure to request a fantasy so girly and over the top that no sane guy will pick it up.
Except, someone does.
Warning: This fantasy contains a hot, domineering crown prince, sweet insta-love, steamy love scenes painted with light shades of gray, a wedding, and a HEA in both the virtual and real worlds.
EXCERPT
Lisa eyed the large blue envelope. “Thank you. You guys are the best."
If it was a gift certificate, which it probably was, Lisa hoped it was to a department store. Getting older meant that it was time to start taking better care of her skin, and good moisturizers were pricey.
"You're welcome.” Bridget thrust it into Lisa’s hands. “Now open it already.”
The gleam in Bridget's eyes didn’t bode well for something as mundane as a department store gift card.
Unfortunately, her besties weren’t into practical gifts.
What had they gotten her? A gift certificate to an adult toy store? A ticket to a male strip show?
Ann lifted her Margarita in a salute. “A quarter of a century is a milestone birthday, and we decided to splurge on something special for you." She waggled her brows.
"Thanks a lot. Way to make me feel ancient.”
Ann shrugged. “It’s just a number.”
Turning the envelope around, Lisa searched for clues. If it was something embarrassing, she would just stick it in her purse and open it when she got home.
Charlotte, who was bristling with excitement, waved an impatient hand. "Open it already."
“Do I have to?”
“Absolutely.”
At least it wasn’t a box or a gift bag. That precluded something like the vibrator they had gotten Linda for her birthday. But if it was a gift certificate for a private male striptease like the one they'd gotten Rachel, she was just going to thank them, put it away, and forget about it. It was a waste, but gifting it to someone else was out of the question.
Lisa wasn’t as nuts as her friends. They were the best, but they constantly pushed her limits. To be frank, though, she needed that.
The seven of them had started the birthday tradition in college. Everyone would pitch in for the gift, and the idea that got most votes won. Obviously, Lisa's never had. According to her friends, her ideas were no fun.
That's what happened when an accounting major shared an apartment with a bunch of art and theater majors. Practical had never been part of their vocabulary, and every little thing led to a drama. Nevertheless, she wouldn’t have traded any of them for someone else, and not only because they made her seem less boring by association.
Sharon, Rachel, and Bridget had moved out of their shared rental house years ago, but Lisa, Charlotte, Ann, and Linda were still there. The only difference was that each had her own room now. With the insane cost of housing in Santa Monica, moving out of a rent-controlled house would have been foolish, and for once her financial acumen had not been ignored.
New rents had doubled over the last seven years.
Taking a deep breath, Lisa tore the envelope open and pulled out a cream-colored card. The title "Perfect Match" was embossed on one side, and there was a web address and an access code on the other. That was it. No instructions, no brochure to explain what the heck it was. Nothing.
Except, the name said it all.
"Do you guys really think that I'm so desperate that I need a matchmaking service?"
True, she hadn't had a boyfriend in forever, but it wasn't as if she was sitting home alone, eating ice cream and watching the dumb box.
Not every day, anyway.
Lisa had been on plenty of dates. The problem was that all of those guys had been meh, and her impressive list of first dates had translated into a very few seconds and almost no thirds.
Perhaps the problem was that most of those dates had been arranged by her well-meaning friends, and it was quite obvious that Lisa didn’t share their taste in guys.
Ann giggled. "It's not that kind of matchmaking service."
"What is it then?"
From across the table, Charlotte smirked. "They promise to find you a perfect sexual match and then arrange a virtual hookup.”
Horrified, Lisa glanced around the busy restaurant, but it didn’t seem as if anyone had heard Charlotte’s explanation. "Keep it down. And are you guys nuts? You know me better than that. I don't do hookups."
Her friend leaned closer and whispered. Loudly. "Yeah, and that's what so great about this service. A virtual hookup is not the same as a real one. None of your many prudish objections apply. You can’t catch a disease, there is no morning-after walk of shame, and you don’t even have to wax.”
True. Except, having sex with a stranger, even virtually, wasn't Lisa's thing. She wanted romance, she wanted intimacy, and she wanted love.
Was that too much to ask for?
Charlotte kept going. "It's new. They've been beta-testing it for over a year and only opened it officially a couple of months ago, but there is a waiting list already. I put your name down as soon as I heard about it. It's perfect for you."
Lisa shook her head. Out of all the crazy ideas her friends had come up with, that one took the gold medal. "Please explain how it works, and what am I supposed to do with it. I'm not saying I will, but just out of curiosity."
Bridget crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you dare waste it. We spent a fortune on this, and it's nonrefundable. Not unless you go through it and then claim you were unhappy with it and ask for your money back. There is a satisfaction guaranteed clause.”
At least, there was that. She could pretend to do it and then ask for a refund. "Okay, I'm listening."
"So it goes like this," Charlotte started. "You fill out a questionnaire. It asks you about your perfect type of guy, your sexual fantasies, and that sort of stuff. It's supposedly very thorough. The computer compiles the data and matches it against what it has collected from guys who filled out the same thing. It finds you the perfect match, schedules an appoint
ment for both of you at the same time, but you don't get to see each other. You get hooked up to a virtual machine in one room, and the guy in another. The machines could be in the same facility or across the globe, and you wouldn’t know. You get to experience your craziest sexual fantasy in complete anonymity."
Lisa chuckled. "I can just imagine the kinds of guys who purchase the services. Perverts, geeks, old men… you get the picture. "
"What do you care?” Charlotte waved a dismissive hand. “All you see is the avatar the guy creates for himself, and he’s sure going to look like a hunk. This is totally cerebral, and, personally, I think it's beautiful. Freedom from body issues, insecurities, hang-ups, social conventions, etc. You can be whoever you want to be and do whatever with whomever."
"What if it turns out gross and I want out?"
"There are safeguards. A certain word you can use that freezes the program. It's all on their website. You can read it all online. Any question you can imagine is answered."
"I'm sure I can think of a few new ones. Like, what if I like the guy and want to meet him? Not that it's a possibility, but hypothetically."
"You can put in a request, and if the guy agrees, information can be exchanged, like email addresses or phone numbers. And the other way around. But they don't recommend it, precisely because of what you said before. There might be a huge age difference, or he might be on another continent. Currently, they only have the two offices in the States—one is in Los Angeles and the other one in New York, but they plan on opening branches in the UK, Canada and Australia."
"Another possibility is that he is married," Ann said.
"The perfect way to cheat on one's spouse without actually cheating. Does virtual sex count as infidelity?” Lisa wasn't sure.
“I don’t think so,” Ann said. “It’s like watching porn with a twist. Although I don’t think I would be okay with my boyfriend doing that.”
“Just think of the possibilities.” Charlotte lifted her hands in the air. “It’s a great way to experiment. If I want to check out sex with another chick, I don’t think Ron would mind.”
“Pfft.” Ann crossed her arms over her chest. “Knowing your pervy boyfriend, he would want to watch. But would you allow him to do the same with another guy?”
“Sure. It’s not real. It’s a fantasy, so why not?”
Thinking of it objectively, it really was just a step beyond porn, and supposedly everyone was doing it.
Except for Lisa. "I wonder if I can request to be paired with single guys only."
Linda shook her head. "A single man can still have a girlfriend or lie on the questionnaire. It’s not like they are doing background checks for virtual hookups, which is another reason not to meet the guy face to face. He can be an ax murderer for all you know.”
"Stop analyzing this to death.” Charlotte clapped Lisa on the back. “You're looking to be matched with someone who'll fulfill your most secret, filthiest fantasies, not a future husband. When was the last time you had sex? And I mean a good one. Memorable. "
Never.
Lisa had had a total of two steady boyfriends, and neither had been particularly memorable in that department. And as for her numerous dates, none had inspired even a tiny spark of desire, let alone hopping in bed and doing the horizontal mambo.
It was pathetic.
There was only one man she'd ever felt physically attracted to, like in weak in the knees attracted, and he barely acknowledged her existence.
Lisa didn't even know his name.
They worked in the same building and shared an elevator ride from time to time. Sometimes he would nod at her, and she would smile back.
That was the extent of their contact.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, had smart eyes, and filled his fancy business suits very nicely. He also smelled fantastic. She hadn't seen a wedding ring on his finger, but that didn't mean he wasn't married. No way a man like him hadn't been snatched up a long time ago. He probably had kids too.
Her attraction to the mystery guy baffled her. Lisa had met guys who were just as good-looking or more, but none had had the same effect on her. There was something about him, some inner strength that she found enticing. And it didn't matter that he never smiled, never acknowledged anyone's presence even though he'd been riding the elevators with the same people day in and day out.
Perhaps it was the suit. Or the slight nod she was the only recipient of.
Maybe she had a weakness for men in suits. Or maybe it was his severe demeanor. It should've repelled her, but for some reason, it had the opposite effect.
Her office was on the third floor, and his was higher up. It seemed so easy to just stay in the elevator, ride it up to where he got out, follow him to his office, and find out his name. But she didn't have the guts to do it. Even though he'd never done more than nod in greeting, he must've noticed that she'd always gotten out before him. There was no reason for her to go any farther than that.
Her intentions would've been transparent.
Finally, some peace and quiet.
With a sigh, Samuel leaned back in his chair and looked out the windows of his twelfth-floor corner office. The sun had set hours ago, and since the smog was not too bad the stars were visible.
Not that Sam was into stargazing, but he needed to take a moment to wind down before tackling the stack of proposals he had to go over. His cyber security business was booming, which was good, but he was running out of steam, which was bad.
At least now that everyone had gone home, Sam could concentrate on the task without being bothered by phone calls and people coming in and out of his office. Or so he thought until Gregg opened the door and walked in, his flip-flops slapping against the floor.
As usual, his partner's idea of appropriate office attire was baggy shorts, a button down shirt that was never ironed, and either sandals or flip-flops.
Gregg planted his butt in a chair across from Sam. "Why are you still here?"
"I can ask you the same question.”
“I forgot something in my office. What’s your excuse?”
“I have work to finish."
"Don't we all. Go home, Sam. "
"What for? So I can take the proposals home and finish going over them there? I prefer not to. It’s not like I have someone waiting for me.”
"And whose fault is that?"
"Fuck off, Gregg. I'm not in the mood for one of your philosophical lectures."
"Not all women are nasty, self-centered, manipulative, gold-diggers."
No, just the ones Sam had had the misfortune of dating.
He was done with that.
Maybe he should get himself a mail-order bride from Ukraine, or some other shit-hole that happened to produce hotties who wanted American husbands. But with his luck, he'd get stuck with another nasty viper. The only difference would be the Russian accent. Or Ukrainian. Was there a difference?
"You know what your problem is?” Gregg stretched his legs out and crossed his arms over his chest.
"No. But I'm sure you're gonna tell me."
"You have a weakness for the glitzy model types. Why do you think they put so much effort into their looks? It’s a bait to lure horny guys like you. You should look for a nice, ordinary girl."
As if that was going to happen while Sam worked hundred-hour weeks and interacted socially only during charity events, which were also work-related.
In the world of big business, Samuel was the face of the cyber security firm that he and Gregg had founded a decade ago. Participating in those events was not optional, and it wasn't fun. Supposedly, their purpose was to raise support for charity, but for him, as well as for many of the other attendees, the main purpose was drumming up new business. Mingling and schmoozing with the CEOs and decision makers of big corporations meant connecting with potential new clients.
That was where he'd met Alexandra. Or rather where she'd first sunk her claws into him. And before her, it had been Natasha, and before that, Tif
fany.
They could've been clones. Beautiful, elegant, charming, attentive, and single-mindedly dedicated to achieving one goal—snagging a wealthy husband.
With each one, Sam had hoped this time it would be different. After all, some of the women attending those events were CEOs of companies and top-tier executives, but he’d never been lucky enough to be approached by one of them. The ones who gravitated toward him had only one thing in mind, and contrary to their sales pitch, it wasn’t sex, it was matrimony.
As the saying went, lunacy was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Since the last breakup, Sam was doing his damnedest to ignore attractive women in general. He was tired of the drama, and he needed a break to clear his head.
It wasn't easy. Temptation was everywhere. Like that pretty accountant in the elevator, with her glasses and her sensible shoes and her guileless eyes. It was all fake. Underneath the unassuming, nice girl façade there was probably just another viper. After all, she was a junior partner in a large CPA firm, which meant that she was smart, calculating, and interested in money.
A nice girl. Right. Not in his world. Maybe they existed in fairy tales.
"Don't you have anything better to do than harass me?” Sam glared at his partner. “I'm not sitting here and scratching my balls. I have work to do."
Gregg grinned. "Actually, I need to get back to my office and pick up one of those gift certificates the guys from Perfect Match gave us. I'm going to take it home and schedule myself a virtual hookup."
“Have fun. Just remember that those gift certificates represent half of our compensation.” The other half was in the company’s stock.
The job they'd done for Perfect Match wasn't one of Sam's better deals. The company was young, and all their investment capital had gone into developing their sophisticated hardware and software. In addition, it had been a cyber security nightmare that had taken months to implement. The main reason Sam had agreed to take it on at that price was that the CEO was an old buddy of his and Gregg's from Caltech.