Mate of Three by Marteeka Karland and Shara Azod

Mate of Three by Marteeka Karland and Shara Azod

Mate of Three

by Marteeka Karland and Shara Azod

Changeling Press

Ebook ISBN: 07069-02277

[ SciFi Interracial Romance, MFMM ]

Balder, Freyr, and Adrien are Alphas of their clan of Hybrids, offspring of Earthbound humans and Otherkind. When they hear the cries of the woman in the woods, they never question the need to get to her. What they don’t expect to find is that she is their mate. The Mate of Three.

Buy Ebook:
Changeling PressAReKindleKoboNook

Read #excerpt of Mate of Three by @MarteekaKarland & @SharaAzod #PNR #IRromance Click To Tweet

Chapter One


Raquel watched the lumbering oaf shuffle around the small, rough-hewn log cabin. His steps slid across the wooden floors, announcing his whereabouts clearly had she been blindfolded. She observed him carefully, marking every movement, taking note of the things he was gathering as well as those he was putting away. The keys to the beaten-up Ford pickup hung on a rusted nail beside the front door, the heavy-duty utility flashlight was placed in a cabinet underneath the sink, an assortment of canned food was located in the cabinet above the sink, and most importantly, the gun he had used to clock her over the head was lying on the counter. That was a piss-poor move on his part. He might have still been carrying the wicked-looking bowie knife strapped to his blubbery thigh, but she doubted he had the agility to remove it from its sheath in time to stop her from placing a bullet right between his eyes. She didn’t even really need to get free of the stubborn ropes that bound her hands behind her back — not yet, anyway. All she needed was for the idiot to get close.

What this dude had been thinking when he had kidnapped her, she would never know, though she had a very good hunch. If this backwoods freak thought for one second she would allow his greasy paws on her precious person, he had a painful lesson coming; one that would invariably lead to his death. Actually, it was a foregone conclusion he was going to die. A person did not hit another over the head, knocking them unconscious, push a perfectly good Jeep into the lake, and drag them deep into the middle of nowhere to have a conversation.

Maybe she was ten kinds of fool for driving cross-country alone, but damn it all, that was no excuse for this mountain of Jell-O to up and kidnap her! And yeah, as soon as she saw that gigantic-ass Confederate flag displayed proudly above the empty bar, she should have probably turned her big ass right back around, gotten in her car and kept driving until she hit an actual city. This was Idaho, after all, nowhere near the Mason-Dixon line. That flag was there to declare something, and it damn sure wasn’t Southern Pride.

It had been her mistake to think just because the place had been empty except for the bartender, she could get something cool to drink, find the nearest halfway decent hotel, and start out fresh in the morning on her way to Washington. Her mistake had signed this dude’s death certificate. Who knew the dumb-ass bartender had a secret fetish for dark meat that would never be satisfied living in a town of approximately a hundred and fifty (so said the sign announcing the dinky town) that had probably never seen a black face since its inception.

There really should be a law requiring tiny towns with no minorities to post a sign or something so people would know it wasn’t a good idea to stop. And really, if a person wanted to experience some mattress gymnastics with a person of a different race, religion, or whatever, then they should move to a city — somewhere like Los Angeles or New York or something. Living in an all-white-supremacist town was not at all healthy; it could drive a person insane, which it obviously had.

While some women might have been terrified in a situation such as the one Raquel found herself in, she was just pissed. She could hear the bay of a wolf somewhere off in the distance, and damned if she didn’t feel a rush of wild, primitive power soaking into her being. She wasn’t scared witless — she wasn’t even considering screaming or begging for mercy. The predicament she was in might seem daunting, but her mind had settled into battle mode. She was waiting, patiently, for the man to make one false move — and he would — then she would hurt him. She was going to hurt him bad.

For Raquel Vance, there was no such thing as a helpless situation. Raised by a single father who just happened to be a battle-hardened Marine, she could best most men three times her size, not that there were many men three times her size. Standing at five foot eleven inches, all muscle and curves, she was one hell of a woman to handle. The only reason this idiot had gotten the drop on her was because she hadn’t been paying attention. Well, she was damn sure paying attention now. Her father had taught her everything a woman needed to know to take over a small country — self defense, weaponry, hand-to-hand combat, and some extremely nifty survival skills. She was going to take special delight in teaching her abductor a lesson in underestimating a woman.

“You be a good girl and stay nice and quiet-like,” the goober instructed, pulling some serious-looking video equipment from a hall closet.

The video camera was accompanied by a tripod and even some lighting, which he set against the wall near a staircase. She was tempted to let out a mother of a guffaw. Of course the freak would want to tape his sick, depraved fantasies. She was probably the first real-life black woman he had ever seen. No doubt he believed he would enjoy the video he thought he was about to make for years to come.

Gathering his equipment in his arms, he cast a sickening, yearning look in her direction. She refused to show him one ounce of emotion. Not fear, not anger — nothing. Let him believe what he wanted to believe.

“Don’t you worry none,” he wheezed, excitement making his breath come in short gasps. “I’ll be back directly and we can be introduced all proper-like. You can scream if you want. Ain’t nobody within miles to hear you.”

She didn’t answer. There was really nothing to say. Besides, had she opened her mouth, he might have been clued in to just how close he was to his death. She wanted it to be a surprise.

Blubber-butt jumped as once again a wolf bayed, though it was a damn sight closer than the last call. And it sounded furious. There were two answering calls, but they hadn’t come from wolves. Raquel almost smiled. The wildlife out there sounded as pissed as she felt. Sure as hell freaked out Bubba, or whatever the hell her abductor’s name was. Good. The wolf and two other mysterious creatures out there told him everything she couldn’t risk saying right about now. Bubba’s minutes were numbered.

He disappeared up the wooden staircase, his heavy steps echoing throughout the cabin. She heard him setting up his little mini studio, then more steps until she heard water running. Was that motherfucker seriously making bath water? For her? Did that stinking pile consider her dirty or something? Oh, she was so going to show him dirty. She wasn’t only going to kill him for this insult — she was going to make him feel it.

As soon as he was out of sight, Raquel slid close to the corner of the wall. Carefully bracing herself, she moved her body upward until she was standing. Mr. Idiot hadn’t bothered to bind her feet, so it was a simple thing to stealthily make her way to the kitchen, her ears tuned in to every movement going on upstairs. Sounded like Bubba was going all out, putting some serious preparation into whatever he had planned. Finding a knife without making too much noise was tricky, but she managed to do it. She slid the knife back and forth as best she could to cut the ropes away from her wrists. She missed twice, cutting into her skin, but a little pain in light of what she had to do was nothing.

Raquel tried to focus on tamping down the overwhelming anger, but it wasn’t working. She could feel cold rage creeping into her blood. There was a red haze over her vision. Rarely did she allow herself the luxury of losing her cool. She’d spent years learning to control the molten lava that was her anger. Never before had she been so provoked. Never before had it been so justified. But she had to keep it together long enough to kill the idiot making his way down the stairs.

She had just enough time to get her hands free and grab the gun the big oaf left on the counter before he rounded the corner. She didn’t blink, although he did — several times. She didn’t bother with words; words could not express the pure righteous fury coursing through her veins. She was an ace shot. She took out first one knee, then the other. She couldn’t tell which was louder, his screams or the roars of what appeared to be bears right outside the cabin. And there was that wolf again, too.

Raquel couldn’t be bothered with that just now, though. She had a hick in need of a serious lesson.

She stood over him, watching dispassionately as he writhed in agony on the ground, begging for his life. She felt no pity, no remorse. This motherfucker had been about to not only rape her, but tape it!

“What were you going to do with me when you were done?” She probably should have yelled it, seeing as how he was blubbering so loudly, but apparently he heard every word.

“I wasn’t gonna hurt you! I swear I wasn’t going to hurt you!”

Now that just pissed her off. “You were going to tape yourself raping me, and you have the nerve to sit there and say you weren’t going to hurt me?” Did she have stupid tattooed on her forehead or something? Did he not see the gun — his gun — aimed right at his family jewels? Did he think by lying he could stop her from making sure he never used that pathetic thing dangling between his legs again?

No, she wasn’t going to kill him after all. She was going to maim him. Fuck him up beyond recognition, then let him live. Every day when he looked in the mirror, he would see her face and remember this night. As long as he might live from here on out, he would remember the night he tried to kidnap the black chick, and she fucked up his entire existence.

Leaning down, she slowly slid the knife from the sheath strapped to his thigh –the knife he had obviously forgotten all about. The blade had been sharpened to a deadly edge. Pressing it against his cheek, she softened her voice to her most sensual. He wanted to play? Fine, then — she could play.

“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” she purred, straddling his still thrashing body. “You were what? Going to rape me then let me go? I’ve seen your face. I could report you.”

“Nobody in this town would ever believe you,” he cried out. “I ain’t afraid of you going to the sheriff. My brother would never arrest me.”

Oh, great! His freaking brother was the sheriff. Maybe she was going to have to kill him after all. The last thing she needed was to have some pissed-off small-town sheriff on her trail. She could probably beat a felony charge, but it would take time she didn’t feel like wasting. Not on this piece of trash.

“I was going to drug you!”

Raquel’s eyes widened as he pulled out a syringe full of some kind of clear liquid.

“You wouldn’t have remembered a thing! Just woken up in the woods.”

Nothing in the world could have stopped her fist from smashing into his face, just as the door smashed off the hinges into the cabin.

Buy Ebook:
Changeling PressAReKindleKoboNook

Read #excerpt of Mate of Three by @MarteekaKarland & @SharaAzod #PNR #IRromance Click To Tweet