Play To Him by Wendi Zwaduk

Play to Him

Bound to the Billionaire (multi-author series)
by Wendi Zwaduk

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-78184-165-5
Print: 978-1-78184-565-3

The key to her freedom is accepting his bonds. She puts herself in his masterful hands, but can he also convince her to offer her heart?

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Chapter One

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The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk

The Phantom of the Opera

Clandestine Classics, Book 5
by Gaston Leroux and Wendi Zwaduk

Total-E-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 9781781841075
Print ISBN: 9781781845400

A chance sighting at the Opera, fated love, and three lives in turmoil. But she can only have one man. Will love raise her up or tear their world apart?

Note: This is a re-imagining of the classic Phantom of the Opera novel. The first four chapters are the original.

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Chapter Five

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Still the One by Wendi Zwaduk

Still the One

Switch Anthology
by Wendi Zwaduk

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eBook ISBN: 978-1-78184-132-7
Print ISBN: 978-1-78184-539-4

She’ll be his salvation if he’s willing to switch.

Can Eric embrace her methods for stress relief or will her suggestion tear their fragile relationship apart?

Reader Advisory: This book contains the use of a crop, spanking, a little bondage, a little pegging, some toys and a woman who knows how to use a strap on to pleasure her man.

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Chapter One

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Love Remembers
Lust Bites
by Wendi Zwaduk

Total-e-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-909-0

If he wants to keep Aspasia once he finds her, Gregorius will need to prove that his Love Remembers.

When Aspasia at last finds herself in Gregorius’ arms, can she let go of the past in order to have the future she deserves? Only if love remembers…

Chapter One

“I will have you chained to my bed for the rest of your days!”
Revulsion and disgust surged through her veins. Aspasia bit back the nasty response on her tongue. No need to provoke her master.
A shout resonated from another chamber in the sprawling home.
“I will be back for you in a moment.” The master gestured to the guard with the flip of his hand. “You may play with her until I return.”
Aspasia locked gazes with her guard, Atticus. He folded his thick, muscle-corded arms. His expression remained blank. When the master’s footsteps no longer echoed on the stone floor, Atticus moved into action and wrapped his meaty fingers around her arm. “Get into the hallway.”
Frightened by his brusque tone, Aspasia complied. She gathered her torn chiton and covered her nudity. Never one to act against wishes, she prayed to whichever God listened to make the sexual encounter quick and painless. Being with Visius humiliated her to her core, but, as a slave, her complicity was demanded or she risked the whip…again.
“Come on. Before he returns.” Atticus’ gruff voice sent chills down her spine. “He deserves the wrath of Zeus for his actions.”
Her heart hammered within her chest. Atticus rarely spoke. Could he be acting against orders? Ice slid through her veins. Did he want her as his own slave? She bit back a sob. Too many times the people she trusted used her kindness as leverage to gain favour with Visius. Though not conventionally handsome—with hooded eyes, a square jaw, and a body honed for battle—she liked Atticus. Had they met outside Visius’ gate, she might have loved him.
At the end of the corridor, Atticus opened a small wooden door. Moonlight streamed across the tiled floor. “Go.”
For the first time in months, she found her voice. “Where? I have nowhere to go.”
A sparkle twinkled in his dark eyes for a moment. The corner of his mouth kinked into a faint smile. “Head west until you see a creek. Do not stop. Just run. You will be safe.”
Knowing she had no alternative, she kissed his massive hand then surged through the doorway. The cool night air prickled her skin, but she refused to stop. At the entry gates, she pushed any thoughts of her captor and his strict rules from her mind. Gravel crunched under her bare feet, but she ignored the pain. Freedom numbed the pricks and stabs from the sharp rocks.
Would she see Atticus again?
Would she find Gregorius?
Dipping her head to keep from getting caught in the olive tree branches, she pushed the memory of her first love from her mind. He couldn’t possibly still think of her. Gregorius, the second son of Senator Tallus, had more appropriate women to devote his time to. Her heart clenched within her chest. No matter how hard she tried to forget, the taste of Gregorius’ kiss lingered, even seven years on.
Her legs ached. Her spirits sank. Where was the creek? Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, aiding her in the escape. Would Visius come looking for her? He was probably sitting on his horse trying to decide which way she had run…if he wasn’t watching with laughter on his lips…
No. She refused to be his pleasure slave any longer.
With a burst of speed, she continued on. The sound of running water met her ears—a melodic sound, like plucking the strings of a lyre. The creek. Tears burned behind her eyelids. The creek.
Her joy turned to fleeting frustration as she tripped on something. A bare tree root? A trap?
Aspasia toppled to the ground and the last thing she saw was the dark figure in the distance. Please, Gods, let it not be Visius.
* * * *
“Do you see the form by the creek?” Gregorius strode across the olive tree grove with his brother in tow. Someone was trespassing on the family property. Why hadn’t the guards notified him or his brother? Damn the Symposium. A waste of good time, spent listening to older men spin yarns of their youth while playing kottabos and flinging wine at an innocent krater—a vase.
The closer he came to the collapsed figure, the harder his heart began to beat. Could it be? A petite hand clenched a chunk of moss. His gaze lingered on the delicate arm leading to the hand. Dirt and scratches marred the pale skin of the fallen woman.
“Are you going to take her home or kill her for trespassing?” Darius folded his arms. “Do you know her?”
Kneeling next to her, Gregorius’ breath clogged in his throat. He knew the birthmark on the woman’s bare shoulder—a wobbly circle just above her right shoulder blade. Aspasia. Could it be true? He had found her? “I will take her home.” Where she belongs.
His brother pointed to the gold band encircling Aspasia’s left biceps. “She is a simple slave. Why waste energy on a piece of property, lovely as she may be?”
“She is not property.” Gregorius bit out his words. No one deserved to be beaten or abused as her body attested.
“Her arm. She is a slave to someone.”
Gregorius scooped her into his arms, frightened by how little she now weighed. “She is a slave no longer.” He strode across the grove to the main house, with his brother hot on his heels.
“Father raised us to be citizens, not to save every poor soul who wanders onto our land.” Darius grabbed Gregorius’ forearm. “Promise me you will take her back to wherever she came in the light of the morning.”
“No.”
As Gregorius entered the courtyard, Marellus—his housekeeper and mother-figure—clapped her hands. “I thought you were not coming home tonight until late.” The smile curling her lips faded. “What have you there?” She caressed Aspasia’s cheek. “She is cold. Shall I prepare a cot for her upstairs in the women’s quarters?”
“I want a bath brought to my chamber.” Gregorius nodded to the doorway. “She is ill and I plan to take care of her.”
Gregorius!” Darius’ voice grated on his nerves. He did not know of the connection. He would never understand Gregorius’ need to have the woman he loved back in his life.
Gregorius whipped around. His tunic shuffled around his thighs. “Brother, we will talk soon. I have much to explain—when she wakes. Until then, leave us.” Taking a moment to gather his wits, Gregorius dropped his forehead to the top of Aspasia’s dirty head. “Marellus, please help me cleanse her.”
“Yes, Gregorius.”
Gregorius sent prayers of thanks to the Goddesses as he placed Aspasia’s limp body on his bed. Aphrodite must have decided to show him favour by bringing his love back to him. He took a damp cloth from Marellus and stroked the length of Aspasia’s thigh. He gasped as he revealed her silky skin from under the layers of filth. Thick pink scars from a whip marred her limbs in a spider web design.
Marellus patted his hand. “She is a slave. Some masters treat their slaves with cruelty. If she had any fire in her soul, it is gone.” She waved to Aspasia’s bare back. “Look at the lines. She defied him or he hated her. Or both.”
“Hate and revenge.” A growl bubbled low in Gregorius’ throat. “He went too far in his punishments.”
When the bed bath ended, Gregorius lifted Aspasia’s limp form onto his lap. “Please place a fresh blanket on the bed. I’ll keep watch on her through the night.” She shivered, causing him to draw her closer.
Marellus’ brow kinked. “Are you sure there is nothing more?”
He tipped his head. More? Yes, much more, but nothing he wanted to discuss with the woman who filled the motherly void in his life. “She is my guest and she is hurting.”
“And you have feelings for her.”
Opening his mouth to speak, he choked on the words. “I am not sure.” He knew he cared, but lifelong love? What if Aspasia refused him? No other woman had made an impact on his life. She haunted his dreams.
Yes…she meant everything to him.
“I can see it in your eyes.” She smiled and stood. “The rough edges of your scarred soul fall away when you gaze at her.”
“If I did not love you, I would be inclined to say you are trying to put us together.” He shook his head to come up with a lie. “I do as the Gods command.”
“Then love her as the Gods command. She will make a fine pallake, a fine wife.”
Although Gregorius wanted to dismiss Marellus’ opinion, he knew better. Love and devotion flowed in his soul. Yes, he could love Aspasia, but would she be able to love him in return? And could she move beyond the demons in her past?
He begged the Gods to make it so.

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Alex’s Angel by Natasha Blackthorne

Alex’s Angel
Carte Blanche, Book 3
by Natasha Blackthorne

Total-e-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-898-7

Having lived as a virtual prisoner of her grandmother’s suffocating manipulation, Emily bridles under Alex’s possessive, protectiveness. And Alex’s charming smile hides a dark secret that could destroy their chance at happiness.

Note: Prologue omitted.

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Chapter One

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Fire and Ice
by Sara York

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-962-5

Can an angel win the woman of his heart when he’s trapped in a demon’s body? With Raphael’s soul ripped from his body, he’s forced to inhabit the demon Lash’s form. Can Lash fight off Rafe and save Alexandria from hell and himself from eternal punishment of living as a demon?

Chapter One

Raphael had known he’d made a mistake the minute he’d reached down and touched Alexandria, bringing her back to life, but he hadn’t thought the punishment would be this harsh. He loved the woman and hadn’t been able to stop himself from interfering. All he’d needed was more time to get to know her, but if she’d died she would have been lost to him in the human afterlife.
Now he lay prostrate in the Court of Angels, his wings vibrating with fear and anger at himself. How could God have let this happen? He hadn’t done anything that bad, just saved one girl.
“The sentence shall be read,” Michael’s voice boomed over the assembly.
Jophiel, the Angel of Judgment, banged the gavel and spoke. “The all-knowing, all-seeing God has decided, based on the crime described in the notes, that Raphael knowingly and willingly interfered in God’s divine and perfect will. Thus his soul shall be taken from his body, denying him his angelic powers and form, and placed in the earthly body of Lahash, the Deceiver.”
Raphael groaned, his wings collapsed over his outstretched arms, hiding his body from the court. He wasn’t deceiving any of them, but he needed the comfort and security the thick wings provided. He hadn’t been without his wings in forever, but now he would be stripped of his position and his rights. Why had he interfered?
The image of Alexandria filled his mind, the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. He hadn’t been able to resist rescuing her.
Jophiel continued reading. “Raphael will be sent to Earth to redeem himself.”
Raphael looked up, his eyes bright. He could redeem himself—at least he had hope, and he would do whatever it took to win back his wings.
“Raphael shall be known as Lash. Any reference to his true form as his own, the name Raphael as his own, or any part of his works as his own will result in Puriel’s wrath striking against him, inflicting pain that will force Raphael to his knees.”
Shit, Puriel loved to inflict pain and he would judge harshly. No way could Raphael trick him. He was stuck with the new body, but how bad could it be? Raphael closed his eyes and thought of the bodies he’d seen demons inhabit on Earth, and he cringed.
Jophiel’s voice droned on, leaving Raphael depressed. “Henceforth, Raphael shall be known as Lash, the angel in the demon’s body, until such time that he redeems himself. Lahash the Interferer in Divine Will and Deceiver will take the form of Raphael on Earth. He shall be given the name Rafe. Both Raphael and Lahash will have the opportunity to redeem their souls. Whosoever completes the task first shall have the right to choose in whichever form they wish to live out the rest of eternity. Time is limited, after first contact with Alexandria, you will have seven days to accomplish your task. So be it.”
The gavel crashed down, and Raphael’s soul was ripped from his body and tossed through nothingness, before being stuffed into a scrawny form that felt cramped and smelt funny. He crawled to his knees and stood on wobbly legs. The gravitational forces of Earth felt strange to him, and he stumbled as he made his way across the room. He reached up and felt his face before he looked down and saw his pasty, white limbs. He pushed the door to the bathroom open, revealing a mirror.
He caught his reflection and horror filled him. Gone were the good looks, the great tan and the awesome body that had been his earthly host when he chose to walk among mortals. In its place was a plainness that was pitiful, bordering on ugly.
The name Lash was burned into his brain, giving him no choice but to call himself by the disgusting moniker. He tried to think of himself as Raphael, but dropped to his knees as pain slashed across his chest. Damn Puriel—he was tuned in not only to Lash’s words, but also to his thoughts.
His soul shrank and his body ached from the switch. God had plans that Lash didn’t understand fully, that much was evident. That he’d saved Alexandria didn’t matter—instead, it had upset the Big Guy. The punishment might have been fitting, but the harshness of it sucked. He’d switched lives, tasks and holy appointments with Lahash, the Interferer in Divine Will, and Lahash had been given a chance to redeem himself as Raphael, the Shining One Who Heals.
He would win this challenge and have the right to his own body. Nothing could stop him. He had to win.
* * * *
Four months later
The explosive noise almost deafened Alexandria as the glacier cracked open fifty feet below her, sending a shiver of fear straight through her body. There was no escaping the ice when it fractured. She’d been on Gunsight Mountain many times and knew Sperry Glacier like the back of her hand. The entire mountain should have been stable—it had been categorised that way when she’d checked with the United States Geological Services that morning, and the weather had stayed cold throughout the day. Hell, the sun wasn’t even shining on the glacier because of the cloud cover that had moved in after lunch.
Having spent her youth climbing the mountains right outside Columbia Falls, Montana, she was comfortable surveying the massive ice floes on the northern mountains for the USGS. More than once she’d escaped danger on the ice, but this fissure was scaring the crap out of her as it opened up a few inches from her feet.
Her team of three scientists and two climbers had already descended another hundred feet down the southwest side of the mountain, too far to offer help if she fell into the crevasse created by the fracture.
Alexandria took a fleeting look at her team, worried one of the guys would act heroically and try to save her. They needed to escape to safety, not play saviour. In hindsight, they shouldn’t have split up, but the day was almost done and she’d told them to start heading home while she packed up the last bag of equipment.
The sound of the cracking ice echoed across the mountaintops as she watched her team scramble across to the rocky slope three hundred yards away. The distance looked astronomical, too far to climb without help on the unstable ice, but she would have to try.
The shattering sound of the ice breaking drowned out her calls to her co-workers. The crack widened below her, and sweat drenched her brow and dripped down her back. The split in the ice raced towards her, gaining speed with every inch. The weather was freezing on this mountain, but fear made her blood run hot.
Her legs shook as she gauged the distance again. Her heart pounded and she leapt, clearing herself from danger. Her sigh of relief was short-lived as the rope securing her to the mountain snapped. Her foot slipped and her legs gave way. She found herself face down on the hard ice. Her cheek stung as she scraped across the snowpack and her body started to slide towards the crevasse.
Before she fell over the edge of the fissure, her foot caught on a chunk of ice and she stopped moving. Fear pinged around her brain, and for a second she was at a loss as to what to do next. Contacting rescuers on her radio was her only hope of survival. With her right hand she pulled out her radio and brought it to her face. The wind picked up and flung the black case out of her hands. It skittered across the ice.
“Crap!”
Alexandria’s traction failed and she dropped closer to the opening in the ice. Again she caught a foothold and stopped a few inches from the crevasse. Every attempt she made to crawl up failed. Her hands slipped farther, leaving her numb with fear. The freezing trench below would swallow her up and take her life.
She grasped a rift in the ice, and rescue seemed a reality. If she could hold on, someone would make their way over to rescue her. The seconds ticked by, seeming to last forever. Her foot cramped and her hand seemed frozen, but she was safe. She watched the clouds overhead, wondering if this would be the last time she ever saw the sky. Thoughts of death freaked her out. She didn’t want to go down that path, but every time she moved she slipped farther into the icy channel.
The stress relief techniques she’d learned in survival training came into play. She breathed deep, slowing her heart rate and trying to focus on solving her problems, not freaking out. Then the ice hold broke and her feet went over the edge of the crevasse. Her heart sank and her breath whooshed out of her lungs.
Images of her dad filled her mind. His smiling face as he’d finally made it to the top of Mount Everest. Then years later, when he’d gone back up the mountain and passed away during a horrible storm, as she’d held him in her arms. This wasn’t how she was supposed to go. She was a survivor. Everyone said so. The storm that had taken her father on that high summit hadn’t killed her, and neither had the car crash that had taken her mother. She would beat this damned glacier.
Alexandria shouted out a prayer. “Damn it, whoever is listening up there, save me!”
Her fingers were losing traction, and every movement of her legs made her slip farther into the crevasse. “I’m running out of time here!”
She shut her eyes, knowing her next view would be her last. Her head span and her bowels clenched. She opened her eyes for one final glimpse at her beautiful Montana. Shock coursed through her when she saw a man standing above her, wearing a red jumpsuit and a white ski cap.
“Grab my arm,” he said.
She reached up tentatively to take his hand, but her body slipped farther into the gap. “I don’t know if I can.”
“Trust me, reach up.” Confidence poured forth from him. He was tall, and his muscles were evident even under the winter gear. Alexandria didn’t doubt for a moment that this man had the ability to pick her up and toss her over his shoulder like a ragdoll.
Her ragged breath shook her body. Could she trust him? But how could she not? Why hadn’t he set up a Z-pulley? She’d made a mistake sending her crew ahead, and now this bonehead was trying to rescue her by grabbing her arm. This was crazy.
Death had her in its grasp again. The guy’s gaze bored into hers as she searched for a sign. All she had was this last chance to live.
“I trust you. Here goes.” She lifted her right arm and he grabbed hold, hauling her out of the icy death trap to safety. He backed away from the frozen fracture, rescuing her from certain demise. When he placed her on the outcropping of rocks close by, her knees gave way and she tumbled forward. The man caught her, keeping her upright.
“Whoa, you doing okay?”
“I don’t know.” Her head still span and her heart hammered in her chest. “Maybe I’m a little shell-shocked. I’m not sure if I can stand.”
“Then don’t.” He picked her up and cradled her in his lap as he sat on the rock.
“My team, where are they?”
“Over there.” His face seemed to glow as he smiled.
Alexandria looked out across the flow of ice, spotting her unit of climbers and scientists about five hundred yards away. They’d made their way to safety and were totally oblivious to her plight. There was no way for her to rejoin her team. The trench had opened up even more, encircling her and her rescuer, separating her from the people she relied on when climbing.
“Do you have a phone or radio?” she asked.
“No, and it’s impossible for us to meet up with your group. The ice is being rather beastly right now. We need to get off the mountain before something else happens.” He held her tight, almost crushing her to him.
The urge to get away from this man blossomed, then was replaced by the desire to stay. Her brain fuzzed and her stomach turned queasy.
“What do you think will happen to them?”
“It’s okay. Look, they’re heading to safety over those rocks.”
Alexandria watched the ice crumble between her and her friends. They glanced back once more, but it was like they couldn’t even see her. For a moment she thought Tom, her best scientist, was going to try to do something foolhardy and come to her, but the others forced him to follow them. The ice proved to be too unstable as more of it cracked and opened up, exposing an ancient frozen layer.
They would call for a rescue team. She turned back to the man holding on to her. “Who are you? And where is your crew? Your friends?” No one went up on the mountain alone unless they had a strong death wish. It was one of those rules all climbers knew.
“No crew. I work alone. I’m Rafe, by the way. Rafe Jackson.”
“You’re an idiot if you’re up here alone.”
“Hmmm, so you’ve known me for only a few minutes, I’ve saved your life and you’re calling me an idiot. Interesting.”
She ducked her head as her cheeks flamed hot. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was wrong. I’m Alexandria Lee. Thanks for saving me. So how the hell are we getting out of here?”
Rafe glanced at the sky. “We’ll fly.”
“Ha, that’ll take a miracle. I don’t suppose you have a radio or something? Wait, didn’t I already ask you that?”
“You’re probably experiencing a little shock. No radio, but maybe I am the miracle you’ve been looking for.”
Alexandria burst out laughing and made a rather unladylike snort. Her head felt light, her stomach nauseated. “Oh, God, that was awful. You may have saved me, but I don’t think you’re a miracle. I don’t believe in miracles.”
“Well, what do you call that helicopter a few miles out? I bet it’s on its way to save us.”
Alexandria tried to focus on the horizon, where Rafe was pointing. She saw nothing. The sky had turned too blue and the sun had come out to play, and now it was excessively bright. She closed her eyes and leaned against Rafe’s chest.
The man smelt fantastic, like a tropical breeze, all warm and fresh. His stubble scratched at her forehead, but she found the rough whiskers comforting. The image of the two of them on a private island filled her thoughts. They laughed at something, then Rafe pulled her into a crushing hug and he kissed her, sucking the air from her lungs. The kiss totally drained her body, leaving her lungs screaming for oxygen. She held up her hands, alarmed when they turned purple. The pressure in her eyes blinded her. She touched her face, surprised to find wrinkled skin…
Alexandria sat up and screamed. She glanced around wildly. Her breath came in gasps as she clawed at the oxygen mask on her face. Equipment beeped and a tube hung from her arm.
What the hell?
“Hold on there, honey.” A petite woman in blue scrubs pressed Alexandria’s arms to her sides, her strength surprising.
Again? It couldn’t be happening again. Four months had passed since that fateful day when a bee had stung her and almost ended her life. She’d overcome so much, and now she was back in a hospital again. Her heart had stopped in that ambulance, but somehow she’d survived the allergic reaction and she would survive this.
Alexandria relented and fell back on the bed, staring up at the florescent lights above. Another hospital. Damn it.
The kiss with Rafe must have been a dream. The air hadn’t been sucked out of her lungs and her face wasn’t wrinkled. Somehow she’d confused the doctor’s help with a bizarre kiss that had left her close to mummified.
“Where’s Rafe?” Her voice sounded like a frog. Damn, what had happened up on that mountain?
“Pardon? Who’d you ask for?”
“Rafe, the guy who saved me.”
The nurse checked her chart, her eyes sympathetic. “Hmm, I’m not sure who Rafe is. The guys on the chopper said you were alone. Sounds like you were one lucky girl.”
“Guys on the chopper? Which one of them was Rafe?”
“No Rafe. Let’s see, Lash dropped down in the basket and pulled you out. Christopher was the pilot and Scott was the other EMT on board.”
“Lash? And Scott?”
“Yep, Lash Baddon. He’s the best from what they say.”
Alexandria closed her eyes, thinking about her rescue from Gunsight Mountain. Rafe had been there. She reached up and touched her forehead. The skin was sensitive where Rafe had rubbed his whiskers against her. The man had been there, in flesh and blood. She could have sworn he had.
“I’ll be back later to draw some blood. I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake.”
The nurse left the room and tears stung Alexandria’s eyes. What was happening? She would have remembered seeing Scott. The man had been her best friend for years.
Shit, she hadn’t asked about her team members. Had they made it off the mountain too? For a moment she thought about calling the nurse back in, but she didn’t want to deal with the pain if she’d lost a member of her work group. Later, when the doctor came in, she would ask if everyone had survived.
“You caused her to fall.” Lash ran at Rafe, knocking him to the ground.
They crashed to the forest floor, banging into trees and uprooting bushes. Fists flew and Lash made contact at least once, praying that he’d left behind a mark. A tree fell as Rafe kicked at Lash, missing him and taking out the poor oak. The noise rose to a deafening level as they warred. Lash tried to extend his wings, then realised that he wasn’t in his true form and that angel wings wouldn’t spread behind him, giving him the lift he needed to dive at Rafe.
“You bastard. I’m going to rip your head off,” Lash screamed before Rafe sucker-punched him.
“Enough.” Michael hovered above Lash and Rafe. The fire in his eyes and the sour pinch to his mouth left no doubt about his anger. “Stand.”
Lash shook off Rafe’s hold and crawled to his knees, then his feet, swiping at the dirt and leaves that clung to his shirt. He had a small cut over his eyebrow and Rafe had a few scrapes. They hadn’t done any real damage to each other and, since a small part of his angel DNA remained intact in both bodies, he and Rafe could both heal quickly. But if Rafe did something really stupid, he would never get his body back.
Rafe popped up off the ground, sporting a huge smile. The bastard was enjoying this switch of bodies. Of course he would—the Deceiver was, after all, a deceiver. If Lash actually killed Rafe right now then he would never be able to claim his old body or his old life. He would be forever Lash the Interferer. Lash the Deceiver. Lash the… Hell, his life sucked.
“You can’t hurt her. Damn it, it’s in the rules.” Lash adjusted his shirt, unaccustomed to the scrawny muscles. “Don’t destroy my body, either.”
Pain slashed down Lash’s back, bringing him to his knees. His skin burned and his bones felt as though someone were crushing them. The sound of Rafe’s laughter burned his ears. The threat of Puriel’s punishment kept him from claiming his old body. Every time he even thought of Rafe’s body as his, pain ripped through him. His old life, and his old name were off limits. He was forced to think of himself as Lash and think of this human shell as his own.
“Temper, temper, Lash,” Rafe said, his chuckles echoing through the valley.
“Calm down, both of you. Lash—I mean, Rafe—what the hell kind of stunt was that?” Michael asked.
“I think Michael’s a bit upset.” Rafe swung up a tree to a low-hanging limb and perched on the branch, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I didn’t hurt the bitch. I actually saved her.”
Lash leaned against a sapling to help stabilise his shaky legs. He felt as though he’d been run over by a truck. With one hand against the tree to support himself, he shook his fist at Rafe, wishing he had his normal strength and wings. “You made the ice fail. She could have died.”
“But she didn’t die and the crack already existed. I can’t help it if the ice broke when I kicked it.”
Lash straightened up, accessing his full height as he thought about tackling Rafe out of the tree, but jumping him wouldn’t do any good. The body the demon occupied moved gracefully. This body that he’d been given moved like a snail. Sure, he had the strength to do his EMT job, and if his anger revved up he could knock down a small tree or two with multiple kicks, but it was nothing like his full strength in his old body.
Stupid punishment. Fuck it all.
The demon wasn’t a healer. No way would he gain redemption. Already Rafe had injured Alexandria. The bastard demon wanted nothing more than to torment Lash and force him to turn evil.
“As I was saying, you only have six more days to make this right.”
Lash stepped forward, his hand over his heart as though he were making a solemn vow. “I won’t fail.” He meant those words all the way from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.
“Ha, what a crock. You have no chance.” Rafe leaned over, almost falling off the branch but catching himself. The guy leered at Lash and winked. “You don’t even know what you’re here to do.”
Michael ignored Rafe’s antics, continuing with his instructions. “She must forgive her brother and set her life straight. This is your task, Lash, because you interfered.” Michael looked up at Rafe and shrugged. “Rafe—well, hell, if you can complete this task then I guess you will have proven your worth and you will be redeemed, but you also have to behave and live up to the goodness that is Raphael.”
The glowing angel focused on Lash again. “Now that God has reconsidered and allowed her to have a long life, she must be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Lash asked.
“It’s not for you to know. But whatever you do, you must make this situation, this bitterness, right with her brother or her life on Earth will… Never mind, I’ve said too much. Since you interfered with her death last time and received this punishment, she’s been given a chance to make things right. She’s angry now, and bitter. She can’t go through life with this anger hanging over her, or it will ruin more than just her life. Don’t mess this up. Either of you.”
Rafe jumped down from his perch and strolled over. “Lash—and I do love calling you Lash—I have to thank you for giving me this opportunity to redeem myself. You see, I’m a good guy at heart. And in this body I can do amazing things. She’ll be drooling all over me and I will be the one to win her approval. Then, once she’s putty in my hands, I’ll have her forgive her family because she won’t be able to resist my charm. That will mean I win.”
Lash clenched his fists. He wanted to pummel the bastard. Perfection described Rafe’s body, gorgeous and beautiful to a fault. Choose a word that meant ‘stunning’, and it would fit the angelic form that was Lash’s old body. Lash didn’t have much to work with in the demon’s body. Rafe might get away with pretending to be good for a short while, but no angel in all of creation came close to matching the goodness at the core of Lash’s being.
Michael cleared his throat. “Six days and that’s it. If I have to come down here again to set things straight, you will both be taking a trip to meet with Puriel. He’s dying to cook up something special for you two. Do you both understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” Lash said.
Rafe took off walking towards town, his gait cocky. The condescending jerk couldn’t win. Lash wanted his name and his body back. The goodness inside of him rebelled at being categorised as demonic.
“Rafe, do you understand?” Michael asked.
Rafe span around, bending at the waist in a stupid formal bow. “No problem, I gotcha covered. Next time you see me I’ll be back at God’s side, in my rightful place.”
“I’m leaving my marker in this tree so you can call me from here and I’ll come immediately. Only use it in an emergency,” Michael said before taking off.
As Michael flew into the sky, Lash chose to steer clear of both Rafe and the town, wanting to cool off before he ran into any humans. Michael’s visit had been a surprise. Lash hadn’t expected the Golden One to show up.
At least one good thing had happened—Rafe had shown his true self today. Why God continued with this sham of a punishment was anybody’s guess. The travesty of having to call the freaking demon Rafe, as close to Raphael as God would allow, riled Lash.
The body didn’t fit Lash, and the name people called him made him more uncomfortable each time he heard it. The fact that other angels saw him as a demon crushed his spirit.
Lash would befriend Alexandria, earn her trust and help her heal the rift between her and her brother, Rick. When he had saved Alexandria’s life four months ago, he’d interfered with God’s will and made life harder for Alexandria. Her older brother blamed her for her parents’ deaths. Anger and bitterness were her constant companions now. He’d studied all heaven could supply on Alexandria and the accidents that had taken her parents. Her brother was angry that she still went up on the mountain, and she was pissed off that he blamed her. Families could be so difficult.
Michael had given him a wonderful clue by telling him that her bitterness would prevent her from doing what she needed to do next. What the next thing in her life included, he didn’t know. Michael wouldn’t spill the tale. Somehow or other, Lash would figure out what God’s plans for Alexandria were, and help her achieve them.
Lash envisioned a time when he and Alexandria could be together. Sure, it would be difficult, but if he was good enough and fixed the situation, then maybe God would allow Alexandria to live in the world of the angels instead of dying and being lost to him forever. It was the best Lash could hope for.
Lash’s stomach rolled. Saving Alexandria had been selfish. He’d wanted a chance to spend time with her so he had forced the issue, keeping her alive when she should have died. He didn’t want her to go to the mortal Heaven where he was prohibited from being with her. The land of angels should be her final resting place so he could spend eternity with her. Selfish, yes, but he’d spent all of his time being good and following the rules. Now he wanted something more.
The full consequences of his actions were clearer now. If he was given a second chance, maybe he wouldn’t save Alexandria, but still, maybe he would do everything exactly the same for a chance to be with her. The love he felt for her ran all the way through him, right down to the foundation of his essence. No other human had ever affected him the way she did. Others had come close, but never like this.
The pure sweetness of Alexandria made him cherish every second he watched over her. By his judgement, she was the most wonderful human who had ever existed. When he’d saved her he’d only wanted a few days alone with her, but his designs had interfered with God’s plan and now here he was, trapped in the body of a demon, being punished for his transgressions. If he didn’t win this contest then the bastard demon would be given the chance to redeem his past and choose who to become.
Shit, I can’t let him win.

Buy Now:
Total-E-Bound

Selling It
by Sara York

Total-e-Bound Publishing

eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-957-1

Teens are dying and Blaine Wilson knows why. His past as a teen prostitute is the key to solving this investigation. Blaine’s living recklessly but he’s searching for solace. When he meets Andy everything changes, forcing him out of the closet and then he has to admit his past indiscretions.

Chapter One

Blaine couldn’t have imagined a worse ending. Blood covered the floor of the shit motel room and sprayed up the walls, almost to the ceiling. He glanced down at the broken body and cringed. The neck wound had probably caused most of this mess. His heart squeezed and his eyes burned. Blaine pinched the bridge of his nose to stop any tears from falling. Hell, he was a seasoned detective and shouldn’t show weakness, plus if the others found out it would come back to haunt him. There’d be jokes around the station about him crying like a baby. He shivered. No emotion and no weakness.
He’d seen this kind of injury before. He knew the boy had felt the pain, suffering in death just as he’d suffered in life. Unconsciously, Blaine’s right hand sought out his own scars. First the fingers of his right hand grazed his left collarbone, then his left ribs, finally coming to rest on his right hip. Then, realising what he was doing, he covered his movements by cocking his hip to the side and resting his hand there, as if he were casually observing the scene. Casual was far from how he felt. His blood boiled and his head spun.
The boy must have been scared shitless. He’d seen the knife coming at him—had to have.
“Hey, Wilson, how come you always stand like that at murder scenes? Never mind, I’m sure ice water runs through your veins.” His partner, Lucy Abbot, sauntered into the room. She was short, sassy and quick to laugh. Eventually, after he’d worked with her for long enough, she would expect answers that he wouldn’t want to give. Why didn’t he date, what was his hang-up about girls? Ugh, maybe he should…but no, not yet.
“This is a mess,” Blaine said.
“People round here don’t know how to murder clean. Always is a mess.” Lucy pulled on a pair of gloves and flexed her fingers.
“He’s probably around fifteen, maybe sixteen.” Blaine knew the kid had to have been desperate. It was the only reason anyone would pick this life filled with skanky hook-ups, all for a little cash.
“Think he had family?” Lucy bent down to examine the body.
“Abbot, everyone has family. The question is why they didn’t give a rip shit about him.”
Her gaze connected with his. She looked hurt. “They might have cared and just didn’t know what to do.”
“No mother or father would ever want their little boy out here selling himself like this.”
“We don’t know he was a prostitute.”
Blaine looked away from the body, no longer able to stomach the scene. “The kid was a pro. Look at how skinny he was. His fingernails are black, his knees worn. Just look at the red marks. He spent his free time on his knees, either blowing or being screwed.”
“Poor kid.” Lucy’s voice was full of pity.
Blaine didn’t want to think about the life the kid had lived. Didn’t want to think about the desperation of not knowing where your next meal would come from. The self-loathing and hate that accompanied turning tricks, or the false bravado the kid would’ve had to have to keep up the life.
Flashes of desperate nights and lonely days played through his head. He blocked them out, focusing on the meticulous tasks of gathering evidence. The crime scene techs were doing their job, but he couldn’t sit still. He slid on gloves and began sorting through the boy’s clothes.
The kid’s shoes were dirty and eaten through at the sole. Somehow the shoes had escaped the bloody mess. They must have been taken off before he was attacked.
Blaine carefully bagged each shoe. Next, he folded the shirt where it lay and slid the material into an evidence bag. He bunched the underwear and pants together so he didn’t drop any stray hairs or fibres, then placed them in a separate bag.
After labelling each bag he called the photographer over and had them take shots of the bagged clothes and the flooring underneath where the clothing had been flung.
Lucy finished her conversation with one of the crime scene techs and made her way towards him. For a moment he wondered what she would say if she knew the truth about him. No one in DC had any idea. Hell, no one in his life knew of his past.
“Did it look like the clothes had been removed before death?” Lucy asked.
“Probably so. The techies will need to have the final say on that. What about you? Any thoughts?”
“Whoever did this is a bastard.”
“Yeah, that was assumed.” Blaine felt bile rise in the back of his throat.
“The guy was clean. No gum wrappers. No cigarettes. The maid cleaned the place this morning but didn’t put on new sheets. The girl said the room was spotless when she left—in other words, we had no body in this room before noon.” Lucy tapped her pen against her pad of paper.
“Really, they cleaned the room?”
“Yeah, it’s that type of place. Queen’s Corner isn’t a family type of establishment. Rooms by the hour and no one gives a shit about what goes on. Hell, with a name like Queen’s Corner, probably no one wants to admit they were here.”
Blaine scratched his chin and shook his head. “Sad thing is, this boy probably thought he was pulling a good trick. Most men would have wanted him to drop on the ground and do a quick one. This john brought him here for an easy kill, but the boy didn’t know he hadn’t scored himself an Edward Lewis.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow. “Edward Lewis?”
Pretty Woman. They guy who rescues Vivian.”
“Dang, Wilson, what is it with you and movies?”
“What? So I watch movies.” Blaine didn’t want to get into it with Lucy. He liked his uncomplicated life. So what if he got lonely and used movies to compensate for his lack of a significant relationship?
Lucy double-tapped him on the arm with her fist. “I know a girl. She’s real cute. You two would get along great.”
He shook his head, trying to not show any annoyance at being set up. “No, thanks.”
“Come on, you need a social life.”
Blaine stripped off his gloves and threw them in a baggie, labelling it with his name, and handed them off to James, a techie whom he only vaguely knew. “James, this area needs to be vacuumed.”
“I’ll get on it.”
The techies would handle the scene. They always did a great job of getting every last piece of evidence. “Let’s get out of here. I want to talk to the manager again. See if he comes up with anything different.”
Lucy grabbed his arm once they’d cleared the room. “Blaine, seriously, why don’t you want to go out on a date with one of my friends? I promise you I’m not setting you up with ugly girls. They are all smoking hot.”
For a moment, Blaine contemplated telling Lucy the real reason he didn’t want to date her friends. Sure, he’d seen Lucy’s friends and they were hot. He couldn’t deny her that, but he thought Lucy’s brother was way hotter than any of her girlfriends and he wasn’t ready to spill the beans here in DC. At least not yet.
“I’m just not into dating right now.”
She huffed out a breath and pushed past him. “Don’t wait too long. They aren’t going to stay single forever.”
Blaine couldn’t hold back the smile as he followed Lucy. Maybe she would understand his preference for men—then again, maybe not. He’d run into enough people who’d constantly questioned his lifestyle. He was tired of defending whom he loved, and sometimes it was easier to pretend he liked being alone than to explain his preference.
It was funny to watch her attempts to set him up. If only she knew what type of guy he was. Eventually he would tire of the anonymous rendezvous at Clinks, but for now those scandalous hours he spent banging unknown men were enough to satisfy his animal side.
* * * *
Nate knew something bad had happened the moment he stepped around the corner. Cop cars covered the parking lot of the motel where he showered every few days. Damn, he hoped the owner hadn’t got wise to his scheme. Changing his routine would suck monkey nuts.
For two hours, he sat across the street from Queen’s Corner and watched the spectacle. Cops walked in, and cops walked out of room sixteen. Not that there were sixteen rooms at the old, run-down place, but for some reason the owner had skipped all the numbers lower than eleven and had actually used the number thirteen. What a dipwad. No one who knew anything about hotels used thirteen for a room number.
He’d read about a murder that had happened back in the fifties, in room thirteen on floor thirteen of some swanky spot in LA—or was it New York? He wasn’t sure. The article could have been faked, but he didn’t think the author had lied on purpose. Thirteen was bad luck, and even he knew that.
This stupid little motel was his home away from home. Not that he’d ever slept in one of the beds, but room fifteen’s window lock over the toilet didn’t work, and luckily he was skinny enough to slink through the opening. As far as he knew, no one ever had ever seen him in the alley, sliding open the window. No one ever came into the room while he was showering. The maid probably didn’t know he was using the place. You would think she’d eventually have figured it out since the toilet paper kept getting used, but he was real careful and never used too much.
He’d stashed his shampoo and soap two blocks away, and his money down the block and around the corner in another alley. The clothes he wore were usually pilfered from one of the various laundromats. Today he’d found an old purple T-shirt with a picture of Miley Cyrus on the front and Hanna Montana on the back. Wasn’t great, but the dang thing fit just right, and a perfect fit was hard to find when you stole your clothes instead of buying them.
He really wanted to take a shower and clean up today. People paid more when he was clean, and that new pair of jeans down at the mall had been calling his name. For some reason, none of the pants he found at the laundromat fit properly. He guessed tall, skinny guys were in short supply. Plus, the store clerks treated him nicer when he was clean. No one wanted to face the reality of homeless teens in the nation’s capital.
Another police car pulled up as two detectives left room sixteen. He knew they were detectives because they dressed like detectives on TV shows. All black suits and white shirts. The man looked hot, the woman like she was trying too hard. Nate knew, without a doubt, that the man would never pay for his services.
The detectives left in a dark blue Crown Victoria. They were way too easy to spot. But, then again, he guessed they weren’t trying to hide. Not at all like the vice jerks who came around every few months when the prostitutes got a little too uppity.
Nate abandoned his quest for clean hair and body. He’d sneak back over tomorrow—during the night it would be too risky since the room might be occupied. Damn, now he would have to settle for a ten-dollar blow instead of a twenty or fifty.
The Italian place around the corner smelt delicious. Scamming a meal would be great, but if the manager caught him he might call the cops, and since the cops were around the corner it would be harder to get away. No, he’d stick with his tried and true Dumpster four blocks down and three blocks to the right. The food was okay, and plentiful.
The detectives from the motel pulled up in front of the Italian joint. The man got out of the car, and his eyes levelled with Nate’s. Ice-cold fear shot through Nate’s body. For a second he wondered if the detective was going to call him over. The female detective spoke to him. After an agonising moment the male detective’s gaze shifted.
Nate ran. The wind felt good on his face as he raced down one alley to the next, only stopping when he was four blocks away. A water spigot stuck out from the side of a building. He glanced down the alley, checking he was alone.
The spigot turned on easily. Water rushed out between his feet. He bent at the waist, slurping in the cool liquid just like he’d done a hundred times at home in the summer. For a moment he missed his home and his mom. Tears burned his eyes. He swiped them away and spun the water off. A door banged open behind him.
“Hey, you little piss-ant! What the fuck do you think you are doing?”
Nate looked over his shoulder and spied a large woman with a wooden spoon in her hand. He sprang away from the water spigot and raced down the street. This time he stopped only a block away. The fat lady wouldn’t chase after him. He could almost guarantee it.
Maybe he would take the day off and just go scamming down on the Mall in front of the Capitol Building. The nice weather would bring out the tourists. Time to play the lost boy, though that could get him in trouble if he ran into a particularly overzealous mother who thought the cops should get involved.
It was amazing how many people would leave their food alone down near the Capitol. Nate never stole any expensive items from the tourists. If he stole anything of worth it was totally anonymous, like at the laundromat. People who washed at the ‘mat didn’t care or didn’t notice. Tourists were always keeping their eyes open for a thief.
* * * *
Andy Stewart slid across the stage on his knees, landing with his arm arched overhead. His lungs heaved and his body screamed at him. Nothing mattered except for the pose, so he stayed still, waiting for his director to either clap or curse.
Finally, after more than fifteen seconds, the director slapped his hands together slowly. Andy slumped to the ground and uncurled his legs.
“That was passable. Not excellent—good enough for rehearsal, but not the show,” Paul Stevens said.
Good enough, my ass. Andy wanted to tell Paul to fuck off, but he didn’t. Instead, he slowly crawled to his feet and smiled. “Thank you for your praise. Tomorrow I’ll come in early. Probably two hours before practice, to improve my moves.”
“Better make it two hours tonight in addition to tomorrow. You need the work.”
Andy smiled, even though the thoughts in his head were less than kind. Of course he still had the moves. The bastard had no right to treat him like crap. Then again, Paul was one of the best, just down here from New York as a favour to a friend. The chance to work with such a wonderful director had made Andy quake with delight when he’d found out Stevens had agreed to direct. He’d known it would mean hard work. Now Andy’s body ached and his head swam with all the minute details Paul had wanted him to fix.
Andy shook off the pain and stretched out his quads. He hadn’t gone soft, that was for sure. All of his friends had been shocked when he’d left Broadway and headed to DC. They hadn’t understood that he couldn’t dance forever. No one wanted to see an old geezer on stage. Sure, there were supporting roles, but he’d always been the main star, the lead, the actor who got the best parts, not the minor roles.
The future would come whether he wanted it to or not. Eventually his knees would go; then his hips or his ankles. Better to exit gracefully than to limp offstage in humiliation.
The side door opened, sending light spilling across a section of seats. Andy made out Stevens’ profile in the dim light. The director left the performance hall, and now the room was empty. There were moments when Andy wondered how creepy it would be to spend the night on stage. He’d never been brave enough to sleep in one of the performance halls he’d acted in, but he’d wanted to forever. First, he needed someone special to share the stage with him, and right now he had nada.
Not that he hadn’t had his share of relationships. He’d probably gone through more men than most, but he’d loved so easily. It wasn’t his fault those love affairs hadn’t lasted. Well, some of the times it had been, but not with all of his relationships.
Andy pushed thoughts of love from his mind and turned the music on again. His form had to be perfect by tomorrow. He ran through the dance number again and again, exhausting himself in the process. He spun around and meant to land steadily on both feet, but something happened, knocking his balance off. His foot slipped and he tumbled to the ground.
“Andy!” He heard his name called out, but didn’t look to see who was watching.
“Damn it. That hurt.”
A figure raced up the dark centre aisle. Andy massaged his ankle, hoping the pain would subside. The man ran up on to the stage to crouch beside him, hanging his long, curly hair over his leg. David to the rescue, again.
“You need to be careful,” David said.
“I’m not surprised to see you here. How long have you been spying on me?”
“Sweetie, the director let me in before he left. And I wasn’t spying, I was watching.” David gave him a quick hug.
“Watching, spying…same thing. So, you’ve been out there this entire time?”
“Yeah. So, you think you can walk?”
Andy rubbed at his ankle again and found the pain had subsided. “It doesn’t hurt too much any more.” He started to stand, and David placed his hand on Andy’s shoulder and helped him up.
“Take small steps.”
“Yes, Nurse David.”
Twelve years ago, Andy had thought he was in love with David, back when he’d first hit the New York scene. Andy had followed the man like a lost puppy dog. David had never succumbed to Andy’s charms, much to Andy’s chagrin at the time. When Andy had gone through ten different guys, swearing each time that he was in love, David had popped back into the picture and lain down the law.
They would be friends, but nothing more. David was in a relationship with another man, whom he adored. Nothing would force David to split from his lover. After two hours of pleading, Andy had given in and agreed to accept the friendship without any benefits.
Now, Andy was glad he had never got between the sheets with David. It would have ruined New York for him, because David knew how to live and how to have fun in the city. He loved David, just not in that way. Now David and Chris were his best friends, and their friendship meant the world to Andy.
“I don’t think you hurt it too bad.”
Andy agreed. His ankle felt fine. “No, I’m okay. I’m calling it quits for the night, though.”
“You up to heading out to eat with us?” David looked hopeful. He probably wanted to take Andy to a new place to eat, maybe somewhere swanky or silly. They never took him to a regular restaurant.
“I’m not really feeling up to it. I probably should ice my ankle. I’ll go home.”
“Okay, at least let me call you a cab.” David pulled out his phone and started to dial.
“Fine, but I’m paying for my own ride home.”
“No way. Let me do this for you. It helps me keep my image up as the office sap. It makes the other reporters ignore my talents until I rush in and steal all the best stories from them.”
“You are so mean to the people you work with.” David was a reporter, one of the best in DC. Three years ago, a paper from DC had offered David a promotion he couldn’t refuse. The primo gig had been enough to draw David and Chris away from New York, and Andy had followed soon after.
“Yep, serves them right. They call me names behind my back.” David placed the call, then pocketed his phone.
Andy’s heart warmed. Friends like David and Chris made his life so much better. He could survive without a relationship, at least for a while, as long as he had these two friends in his life. “You should turn them in for harassment.”
“Hell, no—it’s more fun to kill those guys on the news floor than to get them reprimanded.”
Andy didn’t like that his friend was catching hell from the jerks at work. Being gay took energy that straight people couldn’t fathom. Bashers were idiots, but he knew David would be the last person in the world to turn someone in for harassment. “Sure, David, whatever you think.”
Andy gathered his equipment and stuffed it into his bag. He was blessed to have such good friends. The gay community in DC was awesome. Many of the artists and actors stuck together, helping each other out. Some of the gay powerbrokers in the city were assholes, but a few were cool.
“You are going to come out with us next week, right?”
Andy knew David well enough to know he wouldn’t give in. “Sure, where are you taking me this time?”
“No, I’m not telling you. It’s a surprise. You’ll love it, though.”
They walked out of the theatre as Andy’s cab pulled up, then hugged after David thrust a twenty at the driver. The cab fare would probably be closer to ten, since Andy lived just a few blocks away, but it wasn’t worth pointing it out to David. The man loved to throw money around.
“See ya this weekend at opening night.” David turned to leave.
“Thanks for everything,” Andy called out after him. David didn’t turn around—he just waved and headed off down the street.
After settling into the cab, Andy admitted to himself that he could have gone out with his friends. Sure, he needed the rest, but he’d be able to sleep late since rehearsal wasn’t until three in the afternoon.
This performance would be crazy hard. He had to be on his top game. Paul would kill him if he got injured, really injured. He’d have to tape his ankle in the morning and pray he was right about not being hurt.
* * * *
Blaine couldn’t believe they’d worked so late into the night. It was ten before he’d even made it to his car. As he drove up Fourteenth Street, he thought about going home. Exhaustion and hunger gnawed at him, echoing his desire to seek out the comfort of his own kitchen and bed, but he made the right on M Street. Clinks beckoned him.
The parking lot at the front was full, which forced him to park on the street and feed the meter a few quarters. The place was packed and for just a moment he thought about leaving, but no other bar would satisfy him like he wanted to be satisfied tonight. He didn’t want to examine too closely why he was here. What drove him to do this when he could just as easily take care of this at home, while he browsed the Internet for sexy pictures of naked men?
Blaine didn’t waste any time. He headed upstairs and into the women’s bathroom. The men’s bathroom was for business, and the women’s was for relief. If any women actually came in here, they were told to use the bathroom at the bar next door.
The dim lights hid shadowy figures that grunted in the corners. It only took two minutes for someone to come over. He was small and looked kind of Asian, which turned Blaine on. Of course, Blaine didn’t care what the dude looked like tonight; getting off was the only thing that mattered, but it helped that the guy was beautiful.
The man sank to his knees and unbuckled Blaine’s belt, then snapped open the button at Blaine’s waistband. The slide of his zipper brought a rush of blood to Blaine’s dick. Before the man on his knees could push Blaine’s underwear lower, his cock was rock hard.
The stress and pressure of working a new case fled as the stranger slid his lips over Blaine’s knob. Blaine felt the hottie’s tongue flick the tip, and he let go even further. The warm mouth worked miracles. His tongue slid around the ridge, then he sucked down on Blaine, taking in his whole rod.
All Blaine could think about was the hot mouth sucking his dick and the stranger’s hands grabbing on to his ass cheeks. He didn’t care that the man servicing him was a total stranger. Didn’t want to think about what the person’s name was, whether he was a criminal or a good guy, or if Blaine knew him in real life. All he wanted was to concentrate on the slide of lips and tongue on his cock and the welcoming warmth. For a short while, Blaine could fool himself into believing that this dude actually cared about him.
The man grazed his teeth against the ridge of Blaine’s dick. Blood pumped harder through Blaine’s veins. His balls tightened and his dick grew bigger. For a moment Blaine’s vision went blank as his whole body went cold and tight.
The stranger sped up his pace, tipping the scale of Blaine’s desire. The build-up of cum popped and he shot his load straight down the stranger’s throat. Usually Blaine pulled out and came into a rag, but he hadn’t brought one with him tonight. He was clean, but the penis-muncher on his knees didn’t know that.
The stranger stood up and left, not even looking back at Blaine. He hated places like this, but the escape was balm to his soul. Coming to Clinks was an addiction, and he knew it. Relationships were too hard. That road only held painful questions and hard decisions. He liked this arrangement better.
Blaine zipped up his pants and buckled his belt. Another stranger approached, but Blaine waved him off. He was done here. He needed to hit the sack before midnight and he still hadn’t eaten dinner.
Clinks served fairly awesome hot wings, but he didn’t want to deal with the mess or the trouble of being hit on by the dudes below in the bar. The crowd here at Clinks wasn’t bad. He enjoyed shooting the bull with the bartenders, but he didn’t want to fend off the desperate hopefuls who’d realised the night was wasting away and they were lonely. Hell, everyone was lonely, but hooking up wouldn’t solve his problems.
Blaine left Clinks and retrieved the gun from his trunk. After checking the street, he opened his door and slung his holster onto the seat beside him, locking up tight before he put the keys in the ignition. What the hell was he doing here? How had he come to this type of relationship building? He didn’t want to be that type of guy, but here he was sacrificing love for sex. At least he hadn’t stooped to paying for young boys.
He blew out a hard breath and started the car. Best to pick up something quick for dinner, then head off to bed. The sun would be up sooner than he wanted, and he would be back to the grind of working this shitty case.
* * * *
At some point last night the cops had cleared out of Queen’s Corner. The pigs were annoying. Nate hadn’t worked yesterday and now he needed money. The fifteen dollars in his pocket would only last him a few days, and that was only if he stole most of his meals. He did have ten dollars hidden behind a loose brick, but that was for emergencies, not desires.
Not only did he want to go buy some jeans, but he also wanted to sit down at a real restaurant and eat. A nice restaurant would be a stretch. Burger King he could swing but he wanted something else, something like a good piece of steak. Now that would make him feel better.
Who the hell was he trying to fool? He would never get a chance to eat steak while living on the streets. Maybe if he got real lucky some rich guy would take him out to eat a burger. He’d heard of some of the jerks doing that. Pretending like they were taking out their sons and treating them to a nice meal before they fucked their brains out.
Nate cringed as the creep factor slid through his body. Calling any of his tricks ‘Daddy’ as they fucked him from behind made his skin crawl. He couldn’t help but think he had it better than those jerks’ kids had it.
The shower felt good. He looked in the mirror, impressed with how innocent and young he looked. Tonight he’d make serious money. Men liked his blond locks; they fell into his blue eyes. After a quick check of his shirt, he decided it was passable. Thank God he’d stolen some deodorant last week.
Nate was about to crawl out of the window when he heard a car in the alley. He eased back, lurking in the shadows so the driver couldn’t see him. It was the cops. What the hell were they doing around this place again?
The cop car stopped and two doors slammed. His heart hammered, and he wondered what he should do. He moved to the bedroom, hoping that his movement didn’t draw the cops’ attention.
“Hey, Hurley, you think the owner knows this window is open?”
“Doubt it. Not going to tell him either.”
“Why not?”
“Maybe this is how the killer got in.”
“It was the other room, you dork.”
“Yeah, but what if the owner keeps most of the windows unlocked? The killer knows about this indiscretion and he uses it to his advantage. The way I see it, we keep coming back here every afternoon and maybe we’ll catch the killer. Think of the promotion we could swing. Before long, we’ll be rolling in the dough.”
“Hurley, you are one smart cookie. We keep it on the QT. No one will know about these windows. The killer won’t know we’re on to him and—bada-bing, bada-boom—we’ve got a promotion.”
Nate held his breath as the officers banged around in the alley. Murder? What the hell were they talking about? Was that why the cops had been here yesterday and today? Shit, what the hell had he got himself into? He needed to find a different place to shower and clean up. The cops would be here every afternoon. Maybe he should start coming at night.
Why the fuck did he have to change his schedule for these bastard cops? He didn’t want to have to change anything. It was hard enough living on the streets and turning tricks with ugly, old, fat bastards. Now he would have to change his routine.
Two car doors banged closed in the alley. The car started, its engine noise growing fainter. The cops were gone and he wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. Tonight was a money-making night. It would only take a few hundred dollars to have the cash to buy a pair of jeans and get some decent food. After that, he would think about where to shower from now on.

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A Measured Risk by Natasha Blackthorne

A Measured Risk
Regency Risks, Book 1
by Natasha Blackthorne

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-936-6

After a horrific accident, Lady Cranfield is imprisoned by a terror of horses and carriages. She’s willing to chance anything—her reputation, even her virtue—to discover if the Earl of Ruel can help. He demands her complete submission. Dare she take the risk?

Note: Prologue omitted.

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Chapter One

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The Fires of Beltane by Ayla Ruse

The Fires of Beltane
Scared Stiff (multi-author collection)
by Ayla Ruse

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-931-1

Natalie and William meet at an annual springtime festival, where, unknown to the participants, there is someone using the festival to exploit it’s darker history. This night will test Natalie and William’s attraction, but could it also cost them their lives?

Note: Prologue omitted.

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Chapter One

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Over My Head
Heart Attack Collection
by Wendi Zwaduk

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-85715-874-1

I’m a bouncer at the Silver Steel. But I have a…problem. I’m there to stop the influx of drugs into the community. Yeah, I’m a cop. As long as I keep my heart out of it, I’ll be fine. I hope.

Chapter One

Too God damned cold.
Sergeant Randy McCall blew warm air into his hands and waited for the heater to bring the temperature in the car to a liveable level. Damned force could’ve given him a car that had a working heater. He bounced his feet in a vain attempt to jumpstart his circulation. A break—he needed a fucking break and his Corvette. The ‘vette had a sweet heater, but like the rest of his life, it sat in storage. He’d been undercover for more than six months and still hadn’t made any headway.
“Slade, my man, you are so fucked,” he murmured to himself in the idling car. He glanced around the parking lot. The rest of the girls had gone home. Good. He hated to see them straggling. He’d been in the area long enough to know the Silver Steel Gentlemen’s Club was in the worst part of town. The worst. If he hadn’t been on the drug case, he’d more than likely be investigating the latest murder in the red light district—back doing the normal cop stuff.
Was there a normal anymore?
Randy shifted and twiddled with the radio knobs. It wasn’t much of a consolation, but his best friend, Drew Alwyn, had wandered through the club. Malsam probably had him preparing to go under, too. Randy shook his head. They should just close down the damned club.
He tipped his head back and ran his hand over his face as the warmth from the heater finally cut through the chill in the car. A vision of his dream girl formed in his mind. The honey blonde hair curling past her shoulders. Her creamy skin shimmering with glitter or a fine sheen of sweat. And then there were those eyes. The colour of good brandy as she stared up at him, taking him deep into her mouth.
A knock on his window brought him out of his fantasy. Shit. Randy cleared his throat and reminded himself he wasn’t Randy, he was Slade McMann—bouncer and hard ass. He then chastised himself for slipping into a daydream. Too fucking close to getting himself into trouble.
I am Slade.
The knocking grew louder. “You okay?”
Slade turned. The eyes he’d been fantasising about stared back at him from the other side of the fogged glass. Part of him wanted to be irritated. The rest of him rejoiced silently. Astra Lee. He rolled the window down an inch, cursing that he’d fogged the glass.
“Are you okay? I thought you were dead.” Astra shivered. “Slade? I need you.”
Now those were words he hadn’t expected to hear. Sure, she winked at him all the time and gave him occasional free lap dances, but wasn’t that the job of the dancers—tantalise without getting too close?
“Slade?”
He shook the thoughts from his head. “Get in. We can talk in the warmth.” He rolled his window back up, careful not to lose too much precious heat.
Astra slid into the passenger seat and rubbed her arms. “Colder than the Arctic, isn’t it?”
Slade glanced at her bare hands. “Where are your gloves, little girl?” He took both her hands in his. “You’re going to freeze.”
“My gloves grew legs and walked out while I was onstage.” She shivered next to him. “Sorry. The car died and I need a ride.”
“I didn’t see your car in the lot.” He squeezed her hands, working the circulation back into them. “Mine’s the only one here.”
“I know.” She averted her whisky gaze. “I walked here.”
“What?” Slade forced himself to remain calm. “You should’ve said something.” Astra danced as ‘Sexyback’ and had been in a relationship with the club owner, Salazar ‘Tiny’ Balthazar. He shouldn’t care who she fucked, but the thought of her lying down with the tattooed man churned his stomach.
Why it mattered to him, Slade didn’t know. Wasn’t like she’d sleep with him. He wasn’t even who he claimed to be.
“Because it’s at my brother-in-law’s garage. Wouldn’t start and my brother-in-law said it was the starter… I don’t know.”
“I can look at it tomorrow, if you want.” Slade clamped his lips together. If he talked to her much longer, he’d say something foolish.
“You can’t do any worse.” She laughed, a low, throaty laugh that sent sizzles through his veins. “How about you just take me home? I’m pooped and those damned heels hurt after an hour or two.”
“You got it.”
He wasn’t thrilled he’d have to let her go when then got there, but hell—if he said he thought about her late at night surely Astra would thank him…and take off. He put the car into gear. He missed her touch even though he barely knew her. He pulled out of the lot and into the street, careful not to skid on the freshly fallen snow.
Astra folded her hands over her purse and settled herself more comfortably into Slade’s car seat. Just a ride. All she needed was a simple ride home. The moment she’d climbed into his car, she felt much warmer and she knew sure as shit it wasn’t from the measly car heater. The streetlights and blackened buildings flew by in a rush. The twenty minute drive across town seemed to take no time at all. Then again, with company like Slade, she’d rather the ride last forever.
Knocking on his window and being seen with him could get her into trouble. Slade McMann wasn’t just a man or good-looking muscle. He loomed large at the club. The other bouncers weren’t scared of him, but if he was in charge of removing a drunk or troublemaker, the other bouncers gave him a wide berth.
She wanted a man like him, one who would take care of her. The kind of man who knew what was going instead of her having to look over her shoulder or worry if someone had an unseen eye on her.
Unless Slade proved to be another bad card in the deck.
She guessed not. Slade McMann didn’t strike her as being like the other thugs at the club. He didn’t hang out with Tiny and never seemed to buy the merchandise. He barely seemed to pay attention to the crap going on at the club—like it was all beneath him.
She’d put her faith in others only to have them screw her over. Unlike the men in her past, though, something deep in her belly screamed that she could trust Slade. Odd, too, since her gut instincts never panned out. The men she tended to trust only ever proved to be untrustworthy. Abe had used his fists, Tiny used drugs. Dennison…well, that was a wound she’d gladly give away.
“Astra?”
She gulped. He’d used her given name. Most of the bouncers didn’t even know the girls had names other than their stage names or descriptions like ‘the one with huge knockers’. She turned towards him. Slade wasn’t traditionally handsome. His face was a little too long and his black hair a tad too unruly. His grey eyes flashed whenever he looked at her and the simple act always sent shivers up her spine. It was as though her physical attributes weren’t important because he saw the woman inside. But to have him really see her as a human, not a set of breasts, seemed to be too much to ask.
“We’re here.” Slade pulled into what was evidently his assigned parking spot at the Sanborn Building. “It’s three in the morning and damned icy. Give me a moment and I’ll come around to get you.”
“I’m not going to break,” she chuffed, although she appreciated his gesture. Astra waited a heartbeat for him to round the hood of the car.
Slade opened the door and offered his gloves. “Put these on.”
She considered arguing with him and capitulated. Gloves were so much better than frozen fingers. She shivered again. “Thanks.”
He looped one arm around her back and placed his hand on her elbow.
“Are you for real?” She looked away, embarrassed by her own question.
“I hope so,” he murmured in her ear. “I had a mother who insisted I have manners as well as learn how to put a man in his place.”
She paused and stared at him.
“What, little girl?”
“Your girlfriend is a lucky woman.” Her heart beat loud in her ears. Had she just blurted out something about his girlfriend? Shit.
Slade urged her forward again and laughed. “I am as single as single can be.” Arm tight around her, he whispered, “Are you applying?”
Astra bit her tongue, waiting until they stood in the lobby to respond. “You don’t want to date me. I mean, come on…a stripper girlfriend? That’s out of some sappy romance novel or something.” She turned away from Slade to hide her emotions. Okay, so she had a soft spot for romance novels and happy endings. “Walk me to my door?”
“I am what I am.” He shrugged and followed her up the steps. “I’m in two-twelve if you get lonely, by the way.”
“Then we’re just about neighbours. I’m in two-twenty-six.” She came to a stop in front of her door. As much as she wanted to stretch out in bed, the enticing idea of stretching out next to him in bed sounded so much more fun…more sinful. She shook the thought from her head. He hadn’t asked her over for sex, just issued a simple invitation for whenever she was bored.
“I guess this is goodnight.” Slade smoothed a lock of hair off her cheek. Something akin to a dreamy look filled his eyes for a moment. He inched closer to her. Flecks of gold and green shimmered in his irises.
Was he going to kiss her? Her body screamed hello, yes! But her heart remained guarded. Too much faith in the wrong person could be deadly. Still, she wanted that kiss…his kiss. The heat in the hallway kicked up to somewhere in the oh baby range and sent prickles along her skin. Yes, she needed his kiss.
Slade smiled then strolled down the hallway, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Damn. She had thought for sure he was going to kiss her. Astra fitted her key into her lock and nudged the door open.
A rush of cold air swirled around her. Odd. The apartment shouldn’t be cold. It should be hotter than the hallway. Astra rubbed her arms. Snow lay glistening on the windowsills and window seat. She tipped her head. Who had opened the window? She shivered and glanced at her things. The couch remained in its place, but the cushions were askew, some on the floor. Her plants—a collection of spider plants and ferns—weren’t in their pots. Dirt splattered around where they had once sat.
Occasionally sloppy, she never left the apartment a total shambles. Who else had a key? Her stomach clenched and she couldn’t breathe. Tiny.
She needed to get out. Needed to run. She turned on her heel and ran smack into a wall of solid flesh. The person grabbed her by the arms—a man based on his size and the tangy scent of his thick cologne and body odour. She couldn’t see his face because of the stocking cap over his eyes.
“Remember the rules,” the man growled. “Quiet girls are safe girls.”
She nodded, afraid to do anything else. The man raised a gun and aimed the weapon at her. The blood drained from her face and pounded through her veins. Now she needed to run and hide, but hell…her feet wouldn’t move. A strangled cry ripped from her throat and the thunder of gunfire ricocheted through the apartment.
Astra dropped to her knees.
“Don’t fuck with Tiny or I’ll do more than destroy your shit.” The man slapped the butt of the gun against her cheek.
She closed her eyes as the room faded to black.
All I wanted to do was be home…

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