1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Seven Page 13

  Scandal Never Sleeps

  Seduction in Session (January 5, 2106)

  Big Easy Temptation (May 3, 2016)

  Masters Of Ménage (by Shayla Black and Lexi Blake)

  Their Virgin Captive

  Their Virgin’s Secret

  Their Virgin Concubine

  Their Virgin Princess

  Their Virgin Hostage

  Their Virgin Secretary

  Their Virgin Mistress

  Their Virgin Bride (spring/summer 2016)

  Doms Of Her Life (by Shayla Black, Jenna Jacob, and Isabella LaPearl)

  One Dom To Love

  The Young And The Submissive

  The Bold and The Dominant

  The Edge of Dominance (winter/spring 2016)

  Stand Alone Titles

  Naughty Little Secret (as Shelley Bradley)

  Watch Me (as Shelley Bradley)

  Dangerous Boys And Their Toy

  “Her Fantasy Men” – Four Play Anthology

  PARANORMAL ROMANCE

  The Doomsday Brethren

  Tempt Me With Darkness

  “Fated” (e-novella)

  Seduce Me In Shadow

  Possess Me At Midnight

  “Mated” – Haunted By Your Touch Anthology

  Entice Me At Twilight

  Embrace Me At Dawn

  HISTORICAL ROMANCE (as Shelley Bradley)

  The Lady And The Dragon

  One Wicked Night

  Strictly Seduction

  Strictly Forbidden

  Brothers in Arms

  His Lady Bride, Brothers in Arms (Book 1)

  His Stolen Bride, Brothers in Arms (Book 2)

  His Rebel Bride, Brothers in Arms (Book 3)

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE (as Shelley Bradley)

  A Perfect Match

  Wicked for You

  Wicked Lovers Book 10

  By Shayla Black

  Now Available!

  Click here to purchase!

  Ever since he rescued her from a dangerous kidnapper, Mystery Mullins has wanted Axel Dillon. When he returned her to her Hollywood father and tabloid life, she was grateful…and a little in love. Mystery wasn’t ready to let Axel go, even after the soldier gently turned her away because, at nineteen, she was too young.

  Now, six years later, Mystery is grown, with a flourishing career and a full life—but she’s still stuck on Axel. Disguised, she propositions him in a bar, and the night they spend together is beyond her wildest dreams. Mystery steels herself to walk away—except the sheets are barely cold when her past comes back to haunt her.

  Once he realizes Mystery isn’t the stranger he thought, Axel is incensed and intrigued. But when it’s clear she’s in danger, he doesn’t hesitate to become her protector—and her lover—again. And as the two uncover a secret someone is willing to kill for, Axel is determined to claim Mystery’s heart before a murderer silences her for good.

  * * * *

  Axel Dillon . . . Even the thought of him turned her inside out.

  Mystery glanced around the bar again, easing farther inside. Some biker types in the far corner playing pool eyed her. The bartender still stared down his pierced nose at her. Three cops huddled together all focused on her. Did they think she was casing the place for a robbery? She had to stop standing in the middle of the room like an idiot. Take a seat and order a drink.

  Finally, her head forced her body to obey, and she eased into a little booth near the back. Once she’d seated herself, everyone around her started talking again. And from her new vantage point, she could see the back half of the bar, previously obscured by the wall of televisions.

  There he sat, absently staring at ESPN and sipping a beer, his profile strong. As usual, his rugged face was unreadable. He still kept his dark-blond hair military short. And he still looked like the side of a mountain. Somewhere around six foot five, he’d always been built big, but in the last few years, she’d swear he’d put on another slab of muscle. His tight black T-shirt hugged every hard swell and lean dip, tapering past a flat belly to narrow hips. She had to hold in a sigh. Even a single glance of him made her heart knock against her ribs and everything below her waist tingle. Mystery swallowed.

  He didn’t once look her way. Somehow, she’d hoped their stares would lock. He would approach her, want her, and whisk her away for a spectacular night of unbridled sex that would blow away both her panties and her mind. That had been another one of her fantasies. Right now, he clearly had no idea she existed.

  On shaky knees, she stood again and headed in his direction. She tried not to stare. A glance up at the television proved he watched a recap of a pro basketball game. With a grunt, he glanced down into the neck of his beer bottle as she slid onto the empty stool beside him.

  Now that he was so near, Mystery could feel his body heat, smell him—rugged earth, cut wood, musk. Damn, being this close made her feel both safe and weak.

  “Something on your mind?” He turned to her, his stare expectant.

  She searched his expression and didn’t see a hint of recognition on his large, blunt face. What a relief. But the cleft in his chin and his bright blue eyes still made her feel weak and wanting. That instant chemical attraction she’d felt years ago hadn’t waned in the least.

  “There is.” She mimicked the British accents she’d been surrounded with since she’d fled the U.S.—and him—over six years ago.

  Her assertion obviously surprised him. Though he narrowed his eyes, they pierced her.

  “I’ll bite. Lay it on me.”

  The bartender chose that moment to come around and plunk a napkin in front of her. “Now that you found a seat, you want a drink?”

  A glass of vino sounded heavenly. “Do you have a wine list, please?”

  He snorted. “No. I got three types: red, white, and pink.”

  Mystery paused. She hadn’t expected anything private label, but surely more of a selection than that.

  “Is the white a pinot grigio?”

  The bartender looked as if he was losing patience. “I don’t know what kind that is, but the jug of white I have is as close as I’ve got. You want some or not?”

  That could be seriously terrible booze. She’d been willing to give up designer for the night and leave her Tiffany baubles at her hotel, but she’d spew if she drank the equivalent of Boone’s Farm.

  “Then I’ll have a glass of water, please.” Better to keep a clear head, anyway. “Thank you.”

  As he turned and grabbed a glass, the bartender shook his head and muttered something to himself. Mystery really didn’t want to know what.

  “I’m not sure what threw him off more, your accent or your request.” The corner of Axel’s mouth lifted in amusement, giving her a flash of dimples.

  She’d forgotten the way his smile could soften his harsh face. She grinned back. “He seemed quite ruffled.”

  A moment later, the young, pierced guy set a glass in front of her with lots of ice and a bit of water, sans lemon. She blinked, and her colored contacts jabbed her eyes with a reminder of their existence. Or maybe it was a warning that her plan would likely fail spectacularly.

  “So do you,” Axel said. “I won’t point out that I’ve never seen you here, but I’ll guess you’ve never been to a place like this.”

  “Never,” she admitted. “What gave me away?”

  He chuffed. “Leaving the door open so you could gape with barely disguised horror was a start. I particularly liked the way you turned slightly green when you stared at the guys about to do to body shots with Trina.” He nodded to the corner where the bearded men and the woman in the halter top all laughed. “So why are you here?”

  She’d forgotten how observant he could be and how accurately he could draw conclusions. He did it in an instant, as if nothing in the world shocked him anymore. The world still shocked her all the time.

  She hadn’t, however, forgotten how direct he was.

  “Curious,” she lied and held in a wince at h
er lame answer.

  He shrugged. “Let me try another way: The place is more than half empty, so why did you sit next to me?”

  Brutally direct, she mentally corrected.

  Mystery gaped for an answer. “Why not?”

  In retrospect, she could have been a little less obvious and a little more coy in choosing a seat. Maybe she should have sat a few stools away, ordered some terrible wine, and seen if he’d struck up a conversation. But she’d taken one look at him, and any thought of careful or logical had flown out the window.

  He leveled her with a disbelieving stare. “That’s all you’ve got? You couldn’t even have come up with a good lie?”

  Not really. She could have gone the “You look familiar” route, but that would have been too close to the truth. As far as she could see, that only left her one tactic.

  “You’re very attractive. Pardon me for being interested.”

  A little smile lit up his eyes before he took another swig of beer. “I didn’t say you being close upset me. You’re attractive yourself.” He stared a moment longer, then glanced down at his empty beer before he shifted his attention to her untouched glass. “You sure I can’t get you something stronger to drink? I can’t believe a girl like you would risk life and limb to come to this dive for a swig of water.”

  Truth was, drinking didn’t hold a lot of appeal for her. In the past, she pretended otherwise, but . . . “While I appreciate the offer, I’m actually not interested in alcohol.” She forced herself to meet his inquisitive stare. “Would you like to find somewhere more private to . . .”

  “Talk?” He gave her an ironic curl of his lips.

  “No.” She sucked in a shaking breath. “To fuck. Would you be interested?”

  Hard As Steel

  A Hard Ink/Raven Riders Crossover

  By Laura Kaye

  Author Acknowledgments

  When Liz Berry called and invited me to participate in the 1001 Dark Nights project, I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Getting to work with passionate, creative, amazing people has been one of my favorite things about being a writer, and everything about 1001 Dark Nights delivers that and more. So my first thanks must go to Liz Berry, M.J. Rose, and the other fantastic Dark Nights authors. I’m so glad to get to be a part of this with you and to bring my readers more stories from the Hard Ink—and new Raven Riders—worlds.

  Next, I must thank my Avon editor Amanda Bergeron for helping me make Hard Ink the amazing experience it’s been and for allowing me to contribute a Hard Ink story to 1001 Dark Nights. Everything about working with Amanda has been this author’s dream come true. Thanks, Amanda!

  My next shoutout goes to the awesome Jillian Stein, an amazing friend, blogger, and social media manager for 1001 Dark Nights. You bring such fun and grace to everything you do for me and so many others, and I really appreciate it.

  As always, I’d never finish a book without the encouragement and support of writer friends Lea Nolan, Stephanie Dray, Christi Barth, and Jennifer L. Armentrout. My publicist KP Simmon and agent Kevan Lyon are amazing and indispensable parts of my team, and so often help me make what I do go as smoothly as it can. Thanks, too, to my husband and daughters for always pitching in to help when deadlines loom—you guys are the most supportive family ever and I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. I appreciate all of you so much!

  Finally, I must thank my Heroes for being so awesomely generous with their time and friendship. And, last but not least, I thank the readers for taking my characters into their hearts and allowing them to tell their stories again and again. ~LK

  Dedication

  To the readers, for wanting more Hard Ink! You guys rock hard. So hard.

  Chapter 1

  Jessica Jakes had been lusting after Ike Young from almost the day she met him, back when she was a newbie piercer at Hard Ink Tattoo and Ike first came looking for a job as an artist. Which meant she should’ve been thrilled that her thighs had been wrapped around his hips for nearly an hour. Except she wasn’t in his bed. She was on the back of his bike. And she was running for her life.

  The Harley’s roar ripped through the warm May afternoon as they drove country roads, piercing through farmlands and forests. But Jess couldn’t begin to appreciate the scenery. Not when her whole world was falling apart. She hugged her arms tighter around Ike’s broad chest, and he gave her hand a squeeze like he knew she needed it.

  She did.

  Ike banked the motorcycle to the right, pulling into a narrow gravel drive sheltered by trees. Jess wasn’t entirely sure what to expect. All she knew was that they’d ridden about forty-five minutes west of Baltimore into the rural rolling mountains near where Ike’s motorcycle club, the Raven Riders, had their compound. Around a sharp bend, the sparkling green-blue water of a lake further down the mountain came into view. The water quickly disappeared behind another copse of trees before they reached their destination, a tiny white house with a detached garage behind it.

  With a columned front porch, dark-red front door, and brown stone chimney and walkway, the place sat sheltered in the shade of several tall, old trees, and had a quaint charm about it. For the first time since she’d learned that she was in danger, Jess smiled. Because hard-ass, no-nonsense biker man Ike Young had a cute little cottage. Who would’ve thought?

  Ike parked, killed the engine, and gave Jess a hand off the bike. She was still wearing a grin when she lifted the helmet from her head and shook out her black hair.

  “What’s funny?” Ike asked, eyeballing her as he scrubbed his hand over his bald head.

  Jess gave Ike a long, appreciative glance—and there was so damn much to see. Besides being way over six-feet tall, Ike had a black abstract tribal inked onto the left side of his head, the sharp blades of another abstract tribal reaching out of the collar of his black T-shirt, and tattooed sleeves running down both muscled arms. He was a feast for her eyes. One that her hands and mouth had always longed to join.

  “Nothing’s funny. Your house is just so…cute.” She released her helmet into Ike’s big hand.

  He frowned as he looked at the house, like he was trying to see it through her eyes. “It’s not cute. It’s a damn cabin.”

  Jess smirked. “Okay, well, it’s a cute cabin then. Do you even fit inside this place? Because standing next to it, you look even freakishly bigger than usual.”

  Of course, most everyone looked big compared to Jess. At five foot one inch tall, she made up for in snark what she lacked in height. But that was okay, because she liked big. Ike’s kinda big.

  Ike shook his head and gave her a droll stare, then turned to pull her duffle from a leather saddlebag on the back of the bike. He hiked her bag over his shoulder. “House rules for as long as we’re here,” he said, staring down at her with those piercing, dark eyes. “One. No leaving without my permission—”

  “Where would I even—”

  “Two.” His eyebrow arched, and he nodded toward the porch, beckoning her to follow. “If anyone comes to the house, stay out of sight.”

  Jess climbed the two steps and waited while Ike unlocked the door—at three different places. Under any other circumstances, she’d have teased him about being overly cautious, but given her current situation, those locks seemed more reassuring than funny. “Anything else, boss man?” she asked with more bravado than she felt.

  “Yeah.” He pushed open the door, then stood aside and gestured for her to go first.

  She stepped inside, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dimness. The house was warm from being closed up, the air still.

  Ike turned on a lamp, casting golden light over the small first floor. The living room consisted of an overstuffed brown couch facing a rustic stone fireplace. A flat-screen television hung over the mantle. A console table sat behind the couch, and not too far from that a two-seater wooden table made up the entirety of the dining room. With its white appliances, cabinets, and Formica countertop, the galley-style kitchen was old school all the way,
but clean and neat. Brown paneled walls, wide plank floors, and exposed wooden beams made the house feel like the cabin Ike said it was.

  Still cute, though.

  A series of clicks brought Jess’s gaze to the locks on the door.

  You’re safe, Jess. You’re with Ike, out of the city, away from…whoever the hell broke into your house and tried to grab you. Just breathe.

  Right. Breathing. Check.

  Except, she couldn’t help but feel that she’d brought this whole damn situation on herself. Still, how the hell was she supposed to know that the man she’d picked up at a bar last Friday night had been a bad guy intent on using her to get to her friends? Just thinking of it made her skin crawl and her stomach toss.

  “Three,” Ike said, apparently not realizing she was having a mini-meltdown in the middle of his living room.

  “Three? I might need to write these down,” she quipped, hoping her voice sounded lighter than her chest felt. Because Jess hated to be scared. She despised feeling helpless and cornered and trapped. Once, she’d fallen apart and let fear get the best of her.

  Never again.

  Ike was in front of her in an instant, a scowling, unamused wall of muscle and ink. “I’m not fucking around here, Jessica. Take something seriously. For once.”

  Sweat dampened her neck under her long hair, and anger lanced through Jess’s chest until her bones nearly vibrated with it. Anger about the danger Jeremy and Nick Rixey—her employers and friends for the past four years—were in. Anger about the fact that their tattoo shop had been bombed and closed…until God only knew when. Anger that her own house was a shambles, too, after a middle-of-the-night invasion that sent her scurrying like an animal into the crawl space at the back of her bedroom closet.

  Anger about being targeted and used and hunted by the very animals that had attempted to hurt her friends.