The moment she lays eyes on him, Dr. Kiera Matthews is mesmerized by the rugged, sexually charged man who is at once her savior from danger and a sworn enemy of her mother's people. Yet, as he stands before her, pulsing with physical energy, Kiera feels an irresistible longing stirring deep within her. And when he speaks, his voice alone sends waves of desire through her body. . .a body that will soon discover its own sensual force. For Kiera is destined to reunite their estranged races--by joining herself with this man whose mission it has been to find her. . .
Becomes A Union Of Uninhibited Passion. . .
As the 10th Prince of Klatch, an otherwordly clan whose sexual energy is their life force, Ryan has been searching for his future mate--the Healer who will help him restore his dying world. Now he has found her in the form of a fair-haired hellion born of an enemy society. But he has no doubt Kiera is his destiny. As a being who requires sex to survive, Ryan's fantasies were always filled with darkly beautiful women. But now it is this strong-willed blonde whom he craves and is determined to show her the most potent pleasure. . .
Praise for Cassie Ryan and her Seduction Trilogy. . .
"Deliciously wicked and sexy. . .intensely satisfying!" --Cheyenne McCray
"Ceremony of Seduction is the perfect erotic read. . .well defined and beyond extraordinary." --Coffee Time Romance (5 cups)
Release date:
July 28, 2009
Publisher:
Kensington Books
Print pages:
320
* BingeBooks earns revenue from qualifying purchases as an Amazon Associate as well as from other retail partners.
’m smiling. That should scare the hell out of you
.
Kiera Matthews took a deep breath and prayed for patience. She knew her temper was already on full simmer when she started thinking in sarcastic quotes.
“It’s only because of your past assistance to our people that I don’t report you to the council at once.” Council Member Danen stood before her, all five feet nothing of impotent arrogance.
Simmer flashed to near boil, and Kiera resisted the urge to scream. But she couldn’t quite stop her eyes from narrowing at the rail-thin man with the dour expression who stood before her. She supposed she should be thankful he had agreed to meet with her at all—even in the middle of a deserted parking lot at midnight.
The council was not only arrogant, but they also had a tendency toward drama.
“Bullshit, Danen.” Kiera took a step forward, invading his personal space. “The only reason any of you put up with me is because I’m the only doctor willing to treat you—regardless of insurance or circumstances that would be best left undiscovered by the human community.”
Danen’s already knobby chin jutted out farther as he pursed his lips in obvious distaste. “Let’s cut through all the preliminaries, Kiera. What exactly do you want?”
“I want the council to listen to reason before it’s too late.” She fisted her hands at her sides to keep from giving in to the urge to shake the little man. “The civil war happened a quarter of a century ago, Danen. My mother would still be alive if not for the fallout from that.” Kiera’s temper fed fuel to her rant, and she couldn’t seem to stop the flow of words that spilled from her lips. “The Cunts used to be a proud people with a rich heritage before they let Sela put her wishes above the wellbeing of the entire race. In fact, before she started spreading dissension, the Klatch and the Cunts lived in peace as one people—as it was meant to be. Long before the name of our race became synonymous with traitor in the human dialect.”
She tucked a wisp of blond hair, which had come loose from her ponytail and fallen across her eyes, behind her ear. “Now you can’t even say ‘cunt’ without it being construed as a serious insult. Don’t you think it’s time to reevaluate what’s best for our species as a whole?”
Danen’s gaunt features stiffened, and his already pale skin glistened in the light of the full moon. “You aren’t yet twenty-four. Not even old enough for a coming-of-age—even if you were pure blood.”
The snub about her split heritage hit hard, and she winced. No matter that she was now a grown woman, the taunts that rang in her ears as she grew up still haunted her.
Danen stared down his sticklike nose at her, while his bloodless lips thinned into nonexistence. “As it is, you are in no position at all to question the council. You’ve lived on the fringes of our law since you were a teenager—and only because you’ve been useful as a doctor. You’re more human than Cunt. Your mother made that choice for you when she openly married that useless human.”
Kiera’s anger exploded, and a vivid picture of throttling the little man sprang into her mind. “My mother was a full-blooded Cunt, you little bastard—”
Shouts broke through the still air of the stifling Phoenix night, cutting off her words and rechanneling her anger into self-preservation.
Blue and pink bolts of electricity—the weapons of choice for the Cunts and Klatch, respectively—snaked through the moonlit sky, raising the small hairs on Kiera’s arms.
The stench of sulfur hung heavy in the air, and she tasted the tang of ozone on the back of her tongue.
Skin tingled as adrenaline flooded her system, and she crouched into a fighting stance.
Her gaze scanned her surroundings in search of the enemy as training and instinct kicked in.
Thank God for a human marine colonel father who taught his baby girl to kick some ass when needed
.
A pink sizzling bolt arced straight for her, and she rolled to the left. A tingling sensation crackled up her right side, nearly stealing her breath. A rush of pure power—no doubt fueled by adrenaline—surged through her as she completed the roll and landed lightly back on the balls of her feet.
“You did this!” Danen screamed behind her, too intent on his own self-righteous fury to duck.
She shifted her balance and, with one leg extended, swept the man’s feet out from under him, catching his frail form in her outstretched arms before his head hit the blacktop. “Get down, you arrogant ass! I didn’t bring anyone.”
Danen shoved out of her embrace, thumping hard on his ass against the blacktop, and then crab walked away from her. “You’re a traitor, Kiera Matthews!” He pushed up onto his knees and raised his hands, blue energy already sparking from his fingertips.
Without thinking, Kiera straightened, took two running steps and then snapped her right heel forward into a front kick.
The blow caught Danen square in the chest.
The gangly man flew backward to land hard on the rough blacktop. His body bounced once, his skinny limbs akimbo, before he came to rest and lay still.
“Danen!” came a voice from off to her left.
Kiera had no time to check on the old man or even to try to explain. The council guards had a reputation for killing and maiming now and sorting out the truth later.
A pink energy bolt zoomed toward her face before she could do more than close her eyes against the impact.
She held her breath, but other than a surge of power through her entire body, she felt nothing.
Angry shouts and cursing filled her ears, but no searing pain like she had expected.
What the fuck?
Kiera snapped her eyes open in time to see two burly blond guards lunge for her.
She feinted left.
Both guards changed the direction of their attack to follow.
She brought her elbow around, and aided by the first guard’s forward motion, smashed him in the nose.
Hot blood spurted, coating her forearm as she allowed the momentum to bring her full circle.
The injured guard howled in pain and cradled his mangled nose.
With her right foot still planted firmly, she struck out with her left, hitting the second guard just above the kneecap.
A sickening crunch filled the air as his knee dislocated. His ashen features contorted with pain before he crumpled.
She spun around, alert for more attackers, and found only one.
A Klatch—the sworn enemy of her mother’s people. Or at least they had been for the past twenty-four years.
Her fleeting thought of attack was interrupted by his easy, arrogant stance—not to mention he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.
Lucky for him, unlike most of the Cunts, she attacked only those who threatened her. So she stayed alert and studied the dark stranger.
Mercy, not lust. Yeah, that’s it
.
She had seen several half-breed Klatch in her clinic over the years, but had never met a full blood that she knew of—or at least one with this much presence. Power radiated off this man in nearly visible waves, and she had the sudden urge to trace the muscles she saw through his tight black T-shirt.
She knew she should be terrified. After all, this man was an enemy to Cunts everywhere, and yet, all she felt was…safe.
Kiera shoved the disturbing thought aside to study later.
The stranger stood a good six inches taller than her own five-feet-six, with a stocky compact build that reminded her of a boxer. Even when he remained still, he exuded a contained physical energy she somehow knew would be formidable when unleashed.
Thick dark hair fell to his shoulders and shadowed the right side of his face. The left side, which was illuminated by moonlight, was chiseled, rugged and handsome.
His sensual mouth curved into an amused grin, which matched the laughter shining in his dark eyes.
Great. Caught staring like an open-mouthed idiot!
Her mouth went dry and her heart pounded so loud she was surprised he couldn’t hear it. She closed her mouth and moved her balance to the balls of her feet for lack of anything better to do.
“Nice moves.” He held his arms wide as if to show he was no threat. But the sudden wave of heat zinging through her body said differently. “I saw that energy beam hit you in the face.” His voice was rich and dark like decadent chocolate, and she could tell he would have a beautiful tenor singing voice. Hell, just his speaking voice was enough to melt her into a puddle. Kiera wasn’t sure she could handle his singing without experiencing spontaneous combustion—or orgasm.
The thought sent a wave of shivers through her body.
“I have never seen a human survive that,” he continued, thankfully unaware of her thoughts. “Are you all right?”
The word “human” hung in the air between them like an accusation, and the familiar shame of being a half-breed burned inside her chest.
Bastard
.
Shame morphed into anger in an instant, and she wrapped it around her like a shield. “No thanks to you, I’m all right.” She stalked forward until she stood just outside his reach. “I spent months getting them to agree to meet, and now the Cunt Council thinks I set them up!”
His dark brow furrowed. “For what—” His gaze snapped to somewhere over her shoulder.
“Look out!” He lunged forward, knocking her over just as a searing wave of heat sizzled past.
Kiera landed on her back, hard. All the air whooshed out of her lungs in a painful rush.
The hot blacktop dug into her skin through her cotton T-shirt, but she barely noticed.
Instead, it was the hard muscles of the very warm male pressing down on her that filled her senses. She raised her gaze and gasped as she nearly drowned in the deep purple—almost black—eyes staring down at her.
A surreal sense of déjà vu and destiny flowed over her, and she frowned against the intense sensation.
His gaze burned into hers for another moment, and then he blinked, breaking the strange spell that held her. He took a deep breath, which only served to press their chests more tightly together, and said, “Hold off, Gavin! I’m fine.”
His loud words made her jump, and she nearly laughed as she realized the reason for his deep breath had nothing to do with tormenting her with his hard body.
When he had lifted his head to shout, both halves of his face were bathed in moonlight, giving her an up close view of the angry red scar that ran from his temple to the right side of his mouth. It gave him a rakish, dangerous air, and her fingers itched to trace the puckered red line and sample its texture.
He dropped his chin, and his warm breath feathered against her face. “Are you all right?”
“Prince Ryan!”
She jumped again as the new male voice startled her out of her reverie.
Shit! I’m under a Klatch prince?
Panic and mortification flowed over her, quickly followed by a large dose of protective anger. Since when did she let her guard down in such an unknown situation?
Kiera braced her legs, and in a quick maneuver her father taught her, she reversed their positions.
He struggled against her move, and when she put all her weight on her right knee to catch her balance, instead of blacktop, her knee met flesh. Hard.
“Urgh!” The prince curled up, his body instinctively protecting itself as he clutched his crotch.
Heat seared her cheeks as she realized she’d landed all her weight on his groin.
Damn it. He shouldn’t have moved!
Kiera pushed to her feet and fled into the night.
Ryan de Klatch, the Tenth Prince of Klatch, rolled onto his side as he concentrated on sucking air into his lungs to cool the throbbing pain in his balls. The smell of burnt oil, tar and exhaust filled his senses, and he coughed—then winced as the spasms reached his aching groin.
Footsteps pounded closer until Gavin, the captain of the Klatch royal guard, filled his vision. “Prince Ryan, are you hurt?”
Ryan swallowed hard. “Only my pride.”
And possibly my ability to add to the Klatch bloodline
.
Gavin’s serious expression never changed. “My apologies for being late, my lord. There were a dozen more Cunts around the side of the building we had to neutralize. The other guards are keeping the perimeter clear.”
“Good thing you have confidence in my ability to defend myself.” Ryan rolled onto his back and sat up. Nausea roiled inside his stomach, and he widened his thighs to give his tender balls some room to recover.
“If I thought you couldn’t, I would’ve brought more men and not let you out of our sight. I figured you could hold your own against one old man, a few guards and a tiny wisp of a woman—until you tackled her, that is.” The guard stood and held out a hand to help Ryan up. “My lord,” Gavin added as an obvious sarcastic afterthought.
Ryan shook his head and laughed. He accepted the hand and stood, adjusting his jeans so they wouldn’t pinch his injured manhood. “Bastard,” he said with affection. Gavin had taught Ryan much of what he knew about fighting and spell casting—at least those portions that weren’t considered acceptable for a royal prince to learn. The rest he had learned from a royal tutor. Over the years, Ryan had forged a close bond with the guard, which he still appreciated today.
There had been many times over the course of his life that those “not acceptable for a prince” skills had kept him alive or unharmed.
Except for that once
.
He traced his fingers over the bottom edge of his scar where it met the side of his mouth as he shoved the painful memories away.
He glanced back at Gavin and smiled, bringing himself back to the present. “If you were so sure I could handle it, why did you aim an energy beam at her?”
Gavin’s lavender eyes narrowed. “None of my guards sent that beam. Are you sure it was a Klatch beam?”
“Very sure. It was pink and came from your direction.” Unease tightened Ryan’s stomach. Perhaps there were even more Klatch traitors they hadn’t discovered when the Seer was found. If so, he had to settle things with the Healer quickly. The sooner the Triangle was instituted, the better.
“I’ll get to the bottom of it, my prince; you have my word.”
Of that, Ryan had no doubt. Gavin was an excellent captain of the guard and had held that position for the past forty years—although thanks to the regenerative powers of their home planet of Tador, the man still looked to be a very fit midthirties.
Ryan nodded in response and then grinned as he thought about the little blond ball of fire who had nearly emasculated him. “If that ‘wisp’ of a woman is the Healer, I’m in for a long, bumpy ride.” In his mind’s eye, he replayed the scene, enjoying both the passion in her eyes when she’d defended herself from the guards and the sensual wonder in those same blue orbs when he lay on top of her with their gazes locked.
Gavin grunted. “I think perhaps before we return to Tador, we should stop by the store and buy you an athletic supporter with a sturdy cup.”
“I don’t intend to give her another chance to rack me, but thanks.” Ryan brushed blacktop debris off his shirt and jeans.
“You did notice she’s part Cunt?” The guard’s voice was sharp as his gaze swept the parking lot, never landing on Ryan. “Or did that escape your notice while you were pressing against her softer parts?”
Surprise had Ryan turning to look at the guard. He had assumed she was human, and since she used no magic to defend herself, he hadn’t bothered to expand his senses to check.
The guard chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d noticed. You always have been a sucker for a pair of nice eyes and a shapely…form…my lord.”
Gavin had fought in Tador’s planetary civil war against the Cunts and still held some resentment—like most Klatch. After all, hundreds of Klatch died, unaware, the day Sela and the Cunt Council decided to try to overthrow the throne.
Ryan bit back a sigh. He and his generation had fought and even killed a few Cunt warriors over the years, as well. However, those were all in self-defense, as far as he knew. He wasn’t naive enough to think most Klatch would be content to wait until their lives were threatened to kill their old enemies.
As it was, he had a few Cunt resentments of his own. His fingers traced the roughened scar that ran from his temple to the right side of his mouth. Painful memories threatened to flood back, and he shoved them aside again. Lately, those memories had ridden much closer to the surface than was comfortable.
Grappling with the little Cunt spitfire definitely hadn’t helped.
If the Seer was right, and this blond beauty was the Healer for the Triangle, then he had much bigger problems than dealing with the past. The entire planet was in for an uphill battle. “Did you also notice she didn’t attack me and that the other Cunts didn’t seem too friendly toward her?” He thought back over their brief conversation. “She said the Cunt Council now thought she was a traitor.”
“Doesn’t mean we know where her loyalties lie,” Gavin said matter-of-factly, although he didn’t sound like he believed his own words, which surprised Ryan. “She’s the doctor who treats both Cunts and Klatch with no questions asked. Her mother was a Cunt, but the daughter has never allied herself with either side beyond that.” Even as he spoke, his gaze scanned their surroundings in a constant state of alert. Ryan had grown used to it over the years and took no offense.
“If she has been declared a traitor, she’s no longer safe here on Earth,” Ryan said softly as his mind filtered through all the ramifications of such a statement.
The old man, who still lay in a heap on the asphalt, groaned, cutting off their discussion.
Ryan motioned for Gavin to follow him and then headed toward the shadows before the man came to. The whole purpose in coming here tonight was to find the Healer, so there was no reason to stay longer. “Call nine-one-one for the old man, Gav. It looks like the Cunts aren’t coming back for him.”
“As you say, my lord.”
Ryan ignored the proper words, since Gavin’s tone showed he would’ve been more than happy to leave the man lying on the ground indefinitely. But Ryan also knew Gavin’s personal feelings on the subject wouldn’t affect his judgment or his job—or at least it never had. “For now, we have to get back to Tador. I think I need to have another discussion with the Seer.”
K
iera slammed the front door of her house behind her and turned the deadbolt so hard, she was surprised the doorframe didn’t crack.
Emotions swirled through her in a rush that made her head swim. “Months of careful planning wasted!” She leaned back against the door and allowed herself a few deep breaths to calm the coursing adrenaline.
The entire Cunt council would think she was a traitor by now, which meant she wasn’t safe here. The days of them tolerating her for her medical skills were long gone if they thought she tried to hand over a council member to the Klatch.
Not that they would waste magical resources to terminate her. They would send their half-breed or outright human contingents to do their dirty work. But at least those two groups were susceptible to human weapons.
“Damn him!” The dark eyes of the Klatch prince burned through her mind’s eye, bringing with it each sensual memory of how his hard body had felt on top of hers. Angry with herself for noticing, she shrugged the sensation away. “Why did he have to show up?”
She glanced around the living room still decorated as her father had left it—an eclectic mix of United States Marine Corps military medals, sports memorabilia and old west collectibles.
Her heart ached at the thought of leaving this all behind.
Despite all the evidence to the contrary, she had held out hope that some day she would come home and find her father sitting in his favorite ratty recliner, laughing and joking like he used to. But it had been five long years since she had found him unconscious on the floor with all the indications of multiple energy-beam hits to the chest.
Which meant witches of one race or the other.
Of course, the military doctors didn’t recognize the symptoms, and she couldn’t very well enlighten them. She knew better than most that humans didn’t like what they didn’t understand. In her small clinic, she had treated many Cunts, as well as Klatch and Cunt half-breeds, who had been injured at the hands of humans. Then again, there were also many cases where they had injured each other.
A heavy weariness threatened to settle over her as it always did when she thought about the past. She shoved it aside and banged her head back against the door a few times, hoping to break herself away from the emotions those memories brought.
She had never found out who or why her father had been attacked, and he hadn’t woken since.
However, she was enough her father’s daughter to know he would want her to put her own life above sentimentality. He was as safe as he could be in the Phoenix VA hospital; now she just had to get herself to safety.
Kiera closed her eyes and carefully walled off her emotions, just as she had so many other times over the years. She pictured pouring all her pain and fear into a large shoebox and then closing the lid before stacking it on top of the growing pile of closed boxes inside her mind.
Her eyes snapped open, and the familiar calm of knowing what to do and carrying it out enveloped her. “Get your butt in gear, woman!” She smiled as she said the words aloud, since she could almost hear her father’s deep voice booming those same words.
She jogged down the hallway and into the kitchen until she came to the pantry just under the stairs. The door swung open at her touch, and rather than stepping in, she reached inside and up above the doorframe. Her fingers traced the seam of the wall where it met the ceiling until she found the latch, which to anyone else would feel like a rough spot on the sloping ceiling of the pantry. She pressed the latch for exactly four seconds and then let go and stepped back.
A large cubby as wide as the pantry door slid open from the ceiling to reveal a black backpack full of everything she would need to get away or even start a new life, if it came to that. She hefted the backpack over one shoulder and then dug a quarter out of her pocket and tossed it inside the cubby, where it landed with a quiet
thunk
.
The quarter was a signal between her and her father, which would let him know which safe house she planned to go to first.
Kiera swallowed hard as she realized her dad would probably never see it, and she was totally and completely on her own. She clenched her jaw and closed the cubby with the quarter still inside. After she closed the pantry door, she walked down the short hallway to the garage.
Her father’s Humvee sat next to her purple PT Cruiser, and she huffed out a breath as she realized she would have to leave her car behind, too. That was the price of having such a distinctive car in a closed community—not to mention the “WTCHDR” license plate. It had been somewhat of a joke at the time, but over the years since she had opened her clinic, it had made her easy for her target clientele to find.
Her gaze swept the inside of the garage to make sure nothing had been disturbed.
Floor-to-ceiling cabinets ran along each side of the garage, and at the back, where normal people would put a washer and dryer, her father had installed a heavy-duty fireproof gun safe, which ran the width of the space and stood six feet high. Her father had it specially made and equipped with state-of-the-art security measures.
Marine colonel’s liked their firearms and other goodies protected.
Kiera pressed her thumb to the entry pad of the gun safe. After scanning her thumbprint and matching it to the approved users—only she and her father—a small black panel popped open to reveal the combination lock.
Her fingers reached for the dial.
A blur of dark orange fell from above, knocking her arm away.
Kiera whirled to face her attacker, and a loud “mrowwr” sounded near her feet.
“Damn it, Shiloh!”
Her father’s orange tabby cat swiveled his head, and she found herself on the receiving end of an unblinking orange-eyed glare. The effect was made more intense by the fact that a perfect line of white ringed both eyes like fur eyeliner. The rest of Shiloh was alternating stripes of dark and lighter orange, with white only around his eyes, on his toes and at the tip of his tail.
“Sorry, Shi,” she mumbled as she reached for the safe’s dial again. “It’s been a rough day.”
In one fluid motion, the cat jumped up on top of the gun safe, curled his paws over the top edge and rested his chin lightly between them.
Kiera sighed. She had forgotten all about Shiloh. Her escape plan hadn’t included a cat. However, since Shiloh and her father had basically adopted each other a few months before he was attacked, she couldn’t very well leave Shiloh here to fend for himself.
Though she would pity the person who broke in here with the moody tabby on the loose.
Kiera and Shiloh had developed somewhat of an uneasy coexistence since her father had gone to the hospital. Kiera didn’t particularly like cats, and Shiloh loved to annoy her. She’d actually grown used to having the feisty feline around and even held an odd fondness for him—something she would never admit openly.
The combination dial slid toward the last number, and the safe made a loud click as bars disengaged and allowed her to pull the heavy door open.
The strong scent of chocolate-covered cherries filled her senses, and the familiar sting of unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes. Her father never smoked his signature cigars inside the house, but whenever he cleaned his weapons or rearranged items in his safe, there was always a fat stogie clamped between his teeth.
Damn, I miss him
.
She mentally shook herself and steeled her resolve. After all, her father would kick her ass if he found out sentimentality had gotten her captured.
Inside the safe, she found all her father’s weapons just as he had left them, along with extra ammunition and enough knives and other tools of combat to supply a small rebel army.. . .
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