Berserker's Rage (18 page)
Authors: Elle Boon
Myra jumped at the voice next to her. The man was dressed in conservative business attire, but Myra didn’t trust anyone. She shook her head, and walked away, sure she heard him say something about her being rude.
The only guy who didn’t make her want to vomit was the big one named Brax. His dark hair and even darker eyes drew her like nothing ever had. The Prophet had a way of drawing people to him, too. She reminded herself daily not to trust anyone, especially men who could get inside people’s minds.
Her body had come alive for him long before he’d turned his attention on her. Something that startled her, and so very different from the way she’d been expecting to feel toward the man she would bond with. This warmth that flooded her was completely alien, and unwelcome.
No, Brax McCay was better to be forgotten. She was a thirty-one year old woman who didn’t need a man.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
How do you explain to someone you enjoyed a little pain? Myra could just imagine the look of horror that would cross his face as she told him she enjoyed being spanked. Sure, the elders thought they were punishing her, and she had to squeeze out a few tears, when in actuality she’d enjoyed the bite of their lashes. At times they’d gone too far, because she would forget to show pain. From those occasions she carried scars, but her body still craved things no self-respecting woman should. She never shared her desires with another living soul, knowing she was not right in the head. Her shame was her cross to bear. Alone.
God, she didn’t want to be alone for the rest of her life.
Tears clouded her vision, making her stumble on the sidewalk. Outside a quaint shop with what looked like one of a kind outfits there was a Help Wanted sign. She squared her shoulders, made sure her hair was still in her intricate braid. She’d gotten really good at putting her hair into all sorts of twists and braids. The long black mass reached her hips, but she couldn’t bring herself to cut it. The outfit she had on was high quality and top of the line she knew, thanks to the money her grandmother had given her.
“Can I help you? Oh, I love that dress. Is it Marc Jacob?” The sales lady cooed.
Myra adjusted the hem of her outfit. “Oh, I don’t know. I saw you were hiring.”
She looked her up and down. “What are your available hours?”
Several other workers stopped doing what they were working on. “I’m pretty much available anytime.”
“Hmm, that’s what everyone says, but a gorgeous girl like you must have a boyfriend, or husband?” She tapped one perfectly manicured nail against her lips.
Myra wanted to laugh. She was sure she was older than the young lady talking down to her. “I’m new to town, and can assure you I have no significant other. I’m also older than I obviously look.”
* * * *
Brax was not a happy camper. How a tiny slip of a woman was able to not only leave their safe house, but the whole state of California was beyond his imagination. For crying out loud, the best of the best was supposed to be watching the women. The man they called the Prophet had escaped before the compound had become nothing more than rubble, and with tens of millions of dollars, if not more. With all that cash the man could be anywhere in the world, or hidden right beneath their noses.
He punched the heavy bag three times in quick succession.
“Whoa, dad. Who pissed in your Cheerios?”
When did his daughter get a smart mouth? “You do know I will wash your mouth out with soap, right Lita?”
His unrepentant child stuck her tongue out at him.
“Seriously, what’s wrong? You’ve been beating on that bag for over an hour.”
Brax was not having this conversation with his child. She was dressed in a bathing suit too skimpy to be called decent even for most people’s standards, let alone a father’s. He narrowed his eyes when he noticed her overnight bag by her feet.
“You going somewhere, sweet child of mine?” Brax asked.
Lita smiled, showing off her newly non-braces teeth. Of course she was also shuffling her feet, which meant she was up to something. He waited, knowing she was trying to come up with a half-truth. She was smart enough not to lie to him, but she was also creative enough to work around the truth. Luckily for him, he knew all the ways around her mind. Unlucky for him she was just like him, with a mind like a steel trap.
She rocked back on her heels and huffed a little. “Fine, Katie and Lori are having a pool party.”
He looked again at her bathing suit, seeing the turquoise piece of spandex for what is was. A decent piece of confection. Sure it showed off her young body, but no matter how tightly he kept the reins, she was still going to grow up.
Oh, he’d let her go, but he would make damn sure there was parental supervision. Starting tomorrow she was leaving with her mother for a two week vacation. He hated the thought of his baby growing up, it gutted him.
“You put something on over that, and you can go, with a few conditions.” He laid out what they were and she happily agreed. Okay, happy might be an overstatement.
After dropping Lita off at her friends he drove back home, thinking of where Myra could’ve gone. His Dodge Charger eating up the miles.
Once he was home he headed to his home office, settling on the floor, he focused on one woman. A dark haired beauty with crystal blue eyes. Her very being called out to him. For the first time in his entire forty years he couldn’t read a person, he wasn’t bombarded with their emotions. Brax was finally at ease, he didn’t have to work at shutting himself away from someone in order to just breathe.
He’d planned to give her a chance to adjust to life in the sun. To allow her to come to grips with the fact there was a whole world outside of the commune she had been brought up in, and then he planned to claim her for his own. Caveman? Absolutely. Brax may not have been able to read her mind, but he could read her body. He saw the way her pulse had escalated when he’d touched her, noticed the dilation of her pupils, and felt the way she’d tracked his movements when she thought he wasn’t watching.
His breath eased out of him. An image of her getting off a bus and bumping into a man came to him. The green eyed monster reared its head. She strode away from the soon to be armless man, saving him from Brax’s wrath, stopping at an upscale looking boutique. “Come on, sugar. Show me the name. Give me something to go on.” A standard Help Wanted sign hung in the window and then her eyes went up to the artfully scripted sign
Ozarks Chic Boutique.
Brax wanted to continue seeing what she saw, but he felt the drain on his own body. He didn’t attempt the mind-walk often, and had never done it alone due to the risk to his health. As he settled back into his own mind, he was covered in sweat, blood flowed freely from his nose, but it was worth it. He had a direction to go. The Ozarks was not a huge place. If she was looking for a job, the chances were she was still in the area. God, he prayed she was still there.
Making a few quick decisions, Brax pulled himself off the floor. He felt positively ancient as he rose. He made his way to his master bedroom. He’d gotten in the habit of not bringing women home to his house, once Lita had been old enough to understand what was going on, and then when he’d bought his latest home, he’d made the decision the next woman to sleep in his bed would be his wife. Not that he hadn’t slept with his fair share of women. His dick reminded him often it was a living appendage that needed a warm, wet, and willing place to slide into. Brax snorted at his thoughts.
Tomorrow he’d get Lita shipped off with her mother on an extended vacation, then he was going searching for Myra.
The End
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I’m a wife and mother who is a retired stay at home mom of 2. I say retired because my youngest is 14 and my oldest is 21 eeek. When I was diagnosed with Cancer at 32, reading saved my sanity. As I recovered and realized how quickly life could change, I made a bucket list. The number one thing was to live. Check. On top of that list was to become a published author. Check. Now, I continue to add to the list and check them off as I go.
I live in the Midwest, but I’m a southern girl with only a slight twang who says y’all quite frequently, and am known to say “Bless Your Heart” A LOT. If you know what that means, you do not want to be the one I say that to, lol. I cuss worse than if a trucker and a sailor were put together, but I do it with class *WEG*.
I write what I love to read, erotic romance. My books are definitely full of lots of story, but I leave nothing to the imagination, in or out of the bedroom. My hope is that after readers have read one of my stories, they fall in love with the characters as much as I have.
The best part of my new journey is that I get to create new worlds, and have all kinds of stories in my head just waiting to be written. I truly love to hear from readers. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter or my website, but I’m on Facebook all the time, so find me. I’d love to you from you .
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I’m often asked by wonderful readers how they could help get the word out about the book they’d enjoyed. There are many ways to help your favorite author, but one of the best is by leaving an honest review. Another great way is spread the word by recommending the books you love, because stories are meant to be shared. Thank you so very much for reading this book and supporting all authors. If you’d like to find out more about Elle’s books, visit her website, or follow her on FaceBook, Twitter and other social media.
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Akra’s Demon’s, Coming Fall 2015
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Wild Wolf, Coming Fall 2015
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Mardi Maxwell
COPYRIGHT 2015
Washington, D.C. March 2055
SENTINEL REPORTER MISSING ... POLICE SUSPECT FOUL PLAY
“Sentinel reporter Daria Zane left work Friday evening and hasn't been seen since. Before leaving she told her editor, Malcolm Payne, she was meeting with an informant concerning the hundreds of missing women in the Washington, D.C. area. When Ms. Zane failed to arrive for work Monday morning Mr. Payne contacted the police and a unit was dispatched. The officers found Ms. Zane's apartment door kicked in and her home ransacked.
Ms. Zane is five feet ten inches tall, medium weight with long black hair and distinctive violet eyes. She was last seen wearing blue jeans, a black leather jacket, and black running shoes. The police ask anyone with information concerning her whereabouts to contact them at the following number...”
Daria read the public notification board as she passed it then ducked into another group of people and moved along with them. She'd been on the run for four days but had finally lost her pursuers earlier by joining a group of office-bound workers. Now, though, the crowd thinned as people entered their work places, forcing her to search for a place to hide and finding the entry to an alley twenty feet ahead. She moved to the edge of the crowd and slipped into the shadows of the alley then sidled between two high stacks of boxes that lined one side.
Exhausted and filthier than she'd ever been in her life, she leaned against the building and closed her eyes. At her wits end, she didn't know who she could trust with the information she'd learned about the missing women. Shivering, she crouched and grabbed the broken laces on her shoe. The dried blood that coated them brought tears of exhaustion and anger to her eyes. She mumbled several curses directed toward the men pursuing her as she tied them into a bulky knot. She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them and rested her head on her knees.
Four days ago she'd received a call from a woman saying she had information about a bunch of the missing women. Excited, she'd arranged to meet her on the lower level of a nearby parking garage then told her editor about the meeting. Upon arrival she'd found the woman hiding in the shadows. As she'd approached her, Daria had been surprised to see her friend Marie's step-sister, Emma. She'd pulled Daria into the shadows while she told her what she'd overheard her boss, James Martin, his brother Senator George Martin, and several other men discussing.
The Martins owned one of the largest and oldest pharmaceutical companies in the country, and Emma was James' executive assistant. The previous night she'd stayed late to finish a report, but after placing it on his desk she'd remembered he'd asked for several other files. She'd gone to the file room to pull the files and as she'd put them on his desk she'd heard him and several other men talking in the conference room.
While trying to decide if she should offer to have some food brought in, she heard what they were discussing—a trade deal made with a race of aliens called the Witvians. Apparently, in exchange for young and attractive women they were receiving a constant and plentiful supply of a new drug they called Aphrogen. The drug had been stolen from the Zarronians who called it ZL3.