Mountain's Captive (16 page)

N
ew York Times and USA Today Bestseller

Michelle M. Pillow,
Author of All Things Romance™
, is a multi-published, award winning author writing in many romance fiction genres including futuristic, paranormal, historical, contemporary, fantasy and dark paranormal. Ever since she can remember, Michelle has had a strange fascination with anything supernatural and sci-fi. After discovering historical romance novels, it was only natural that the supernatural and love/romance elements should someday meet in her wonderland of a brain. She’s glad they did for their children have been pouring onto the computer screen ever since.

Michelle loves to travel and try new things, whether it’s a paranormal investigation of an old Vaudeville Theatre or climbing Mayan temples in Belize. She’s addicted to movies and used to drive her mother crazy while quoting random scenes with her brother. Though it has yet to happen, her dream is to be in a horror movie as 1. A zombie or 2. The expendable screaming chick who gets it in the beginning credits. But for the most part she can be found writing in her office with a cup of coffee in pajama pants.

M
ichelle Online

She loves to hear from readers. They can contact her through her website.

M
egan Sinclair believes
she’s cursed. After all, every year she celebrates Christmas something bad happens—broken bones, chicken pox, house burning down. So after agreeing to finally go home for the holidays, she’s not surprised when her all-too-sexy boyfriend breaks up with her—and by note, no less!

Sean Morgan doesn’t believe in curses, but his girlfriend does. It’s her one fault. In all other ways Megan’s perfect for him, from her interesting mind to her gorgeous body. And the sex? HOT. But, because she’s convinced something bad will happen, he’s not too surprised when she leaves for the holiday without him. Convincing Megan that she’s not cursed may take some creative maneuvering, but Sean plans to make sure he turns her holiday luck around.

Tinsel and garland clung tastefully to everything that didn’t move. Christmas music pumped throughout the house, jingling and tingling and so very merry. Bright packages overflowed from beneath the giant tree.

“Oh, Jeff, she’s just so thin!” Frieda fussed. Her blonde hair was sprayed into position, not a hair out of place. Her mother had that same hairstyle since she was a kid. “Megan, honey, don’t you eat? Jeff, look at her. Don’t you think she’s thin?”

Megan just smiled and took a deep drink of the champagne. It was going to be a long night. “I’m fine, Mom. I eat plenty.”

“Didn’t you say you were bringing a friend down?” Jeff asked, smiling at her from where he sat back down on the couch. He was a good man and had been a really good father and husband over the years. She knew he was changing the subject to take her mother’s attention off her weight. Frieda would over-feed the world if they let her.

“Christmas curse strikes again,” came her response.

“Curse?” Jeff chuckled. “Well, I can’t blame you for thinking so. What year did you get the snake again? When you were seven?”

“Nine. Mom bought me a bunny. The pet store messed up and gave me a snake. I hate snakes. The damned thing shot out of the box and bit me.” Megan lifted her glass for a refill before pulling her shirt to the side to show two puckered scars on her neck. “See, right here. Seven is the year Sugar-Puffin was hit by the car Christmas morning.”

“Megan, honey, phone for you!” Frieda called, waving the corded handset at her from the kitchen where she was putting the finishing touches on her sugar cookies for the neighborhood gift bags.

Megan frowned. Who would be calling her at her parents’ house? Victoria was supposed to have been busy that evening and only a handful of people knew where she was. Pushing up from the couch, she smiled at her mother as she was handed the phone.

“What are those?” Megan asked, checking out the sugar cookies. She nearly choked. They were strangely shaped blobs that looked suspiciously like turgid male cocks.

“Ornaments,” her mother answered, as if it were obvious. Then, waving to the phone, she grinned in giddy excitement and whispered loudly, “Answer it. It’s a man!”

Megan turned her back before her mother saw her laughing at the ridiculous cookies. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe, I better be the only man calling you.”

Megan froze, feeling as if a truck had run over her. Sean! The sound of his voice gave her chills of desire—striking her in the stomach and causing her pussy to ache. She cleared her throat, trying to calm her racing heart. Her lips tingled, hearing the laughing tone in his words. He was the best kisser, knowing just how to massage his tongue against hers in slow strokes that he would later mimic with his tight body.

“Listen, Meg, I’m—” The phone cut out and she couldn’t hear the rest.

Numbly, she pulled the phone from her ear and hung up. Why in the world was Sean calling her now? Was he trying to make the wound worse just in time for Christmas?

“That was fast,” Frieda commented.

“Telemarketer,” Megan lied. “They can track you down anywhere.”

Megan left the kitchen, going in search of something a little harder than champagne, as her mother stared after her.

A
s Victoria told
her best friend, Megan, all she wants for Christmas is a hot, horny vampire. Instead she’s got a sleazy, sexually harassing boss who treats her like a piece of meat and doesn’t know the meaning of “no!” Victoria can’t afford to lose her job. Where’s her fictional horny vampire, coming to her rescue so he can rock her world? If only they were real…

Phillip Ruth does his best to pass as human. He’s managed to carve out a name for himself as a successful businessman by controlling his otherworldly blood lust. But the day he crosses paths with Victoria, lust isn’t the only thing he’s feeling. As the sparks fly, he finds he’ll do anything to make her his.

Victoria Resa focused hard on the computer screen in front of her, hoping her boss of two years, Frank Hewitt, would just pass by without stopping to do his normal song and dance. She clicked away from her email program, worried he’d try to read the email she was in the middle of penning to her best friend, Megan.

Frank was an absolute and total tool. If there was a skirt in a hundred-mile radius, he was there, trying to nail it. If she wasn’t so desperate for a job, she’d tell him where to stuff his innuendoes.

Please, just keep on moving.

“Vicki, did you happen to get the updated customer service component packs together? I got stuck with the damn training seminar again and I’d really like to be prepared this time, sweetie,” he said with a wink that made her stomach turn. She hated being called Vicki and really hated his pet names for her. She especially hated Vicki-poo.

She wanted to take his neatly trimmed blond head of hair and ram it through the wall. Of course she had the packets of information ready. She always had everything that sleazebag needed done ahead of time. It wasn’t her fault the jerk had left them at his mistress’s house the night before last year’s seminar. Frank didn’t tell his superiors that. No, he told them his assistant had failed to get them done in time.

Lies, all lies.

Everything that falls out of the man’s mouth is a lie.

Victoria could have spoken out against him, but what was the point? The company would never move her any higher than her current position. Frank had told her as much the minute she’d refused to sleep with him.

He’d cornered her in the copy room, after hours, and made it very clear that if she wanted to advance her career, she could do so by servicing him first. It would be a cold day in hell before that happened. Victoria had immediately begun the search for a new job, but couldn’t figure out why no one seemed to call back. She overhead Frank giving her a rather nasty reference on the phone and knew then why she hadn’t been able to get another job.

Her master’s degree in marketing seemed pointless now that she was no more than Frank’s glorified secretary when, in actuality, Betty was his secretary. He ordered her around like a dog and she jumped at his every whim—or almost every whim. Maybe if she took that one last step, she could be free of him. It’s not as though she ever had any better offers. She worked so much that she never socialized, and Frank had spread rumors around the building that she was his, so no men asked her out.

Ah, to be my own boss.

Megan owned her own bookstore less than five minutes from Victoria’s apartment building. Even though the hours were often long and the pay wasn’t exactly great, Megan seemed content to be in charge of her place and Victoria envied that. What she didn’t envy was Megan’s dislike of the holiday season. The poor girl was thoroughly convinced Christmas was cursed. At times it was almost comical. Not that Victoria would outright laugh at her friend’s fears.

Victoria eyed her cell phone, the urge to call her friend great. She’d been in the middle of writing an email to Megan when Frank had cornered her. Frank would throw a fit if she made a personal call on company time, so she resisted. It didn’t help that the main topic of conversation between them of late had been how best to deal with the overly touchy-feely prick with the corner office. Talking about Frank with him within earshot wasn’t wise.

His warm breath skated over her cheek and she cringed inwardly as he hovered.

“Vicki,” he sighed, inching closer. “Hiding any more of those romance novels about vampires and werewolves in your desk drawer?”

She gasped.

How had he known about those?

“You went through my things?”

He slid his finger over her neckline. “I leafed through them,” he confessed as if it were no big deal or any type of violation. “You like your sex rough, huh?”

Ohmygod, he did not just ask me that.

“Mr. Hewitt, I…”

“Tsk, tsk,” he whispered, his finger in the top of her blouse. “We’re way past formalities, don’t you think, Vicki-poo?” A lecherous smile gleamed over his face. “Those novels you read are erotic, aren’t they? I read all about the heroine’s quivering quim. Is that what you want? You want a man to make you wet?”

She tensed more, silently willing him away. It didn’t work. He skimmed a finger farther into her blouse, blatantly invading her space. Her traitorous body responded, her nipples hardening and her breath catching.

Her vibrator had become her best friend, and when she’d realized that she was buying batteries in bulk on a regular basis, she knew things had gotten bad. The touch of any man sounded good at the moment.

Frank wasn’t a bad-looking man. On the contrary, most of the women she worked with were so jealous that he was her boss that they didn’t speak to her. She swallowed back the vomit in her throat as she pushed the idea of screwing Frank out of her head. Making a mental note to seek psychiatric help if she should ever entertain sleeping with him again, she forced herself back to reality.

“I vant to suck your blood,” he said with a bad accent.

And I want to ask my Tia Rosa to curse you. Maybe she could turn you into the toad you really are.

She held her thoughts and focused on her screen.

Her aunt Rosa, who firmly believed she was a witch, had offered on numerous occasions to handle the hexing of her boss. So far, Victoria hadn’t taken the woman up on the offer. She was considering it for sure.

Frank used his other hand to ease open her top desk drawer. He moved a file, uncovering one of Victoria’s guilty pleasures. “Hmm,
Call of the Lycan
by Michelle M. Pillow. This a vampire one too? You like those, don’t ya?”

“It’s a werewolf one,” she snapped, unsure why she felt the need to defend it. She wasn’t sure Frank could form complete sentences, let alone read. “And yes, I like it.”

Much to her dismay, Frank tapped the keyboard, shutting the spreadsheet window, revealing the email. He leaned in more, his gaze on the screen.

“Megan,” he read out loud. “I’ve decided. All I want for Christmas is a hot, horny, single vampire who wants to not only drink from me but who wants to keep me as his sexual love goddess. That or a million dollars, I can’t decide. Tell me your night is going better than mine. Love, Victoria.”