Touchdown Daddy (65 page)

Melody nervously smoothed down her satin skirt, checking her reflection in the mirror. It had been several months since Elisabeth's arrest, and tonight was the first time since then that she had arranged for Bobby to spend the night with a friend so she could have the night to herself.

It was a huge adjustment, suddenly having a ten-year-old boy living with her, especially under these circumstances, but things were working out. Bobby was a good kid, and he was adjusting as well as could be expected.

Elisabeth's trial was still ongoing, but given the circumstances, it was hopeful that she would get a relatively light sentence. David's properties had all been resold by the government, through Melody, and she had put the money she earned from those sales into Bobby's college fund.

Tonight, though, was finally a night to have a break and just relax. She had kept in contact with Oskar as he took care of business in the city. His adoption of Julius was almost complete. He was coming back to Blackcliff for a few days.

And they were going to dinner.

It was a date. A real, honest-to-goodness date. Melody couldn't be happier, but she was still nervous. Now that they weren't solving a murder, would they still have things to talk about? Of course they would–she had a list of topics in case things lagged. Everything would be fine.

When Oskar arrived, he handed her a potted orchid. Melody's jaw dropped at the beautiful flower, gently taking it.

"Wow. It's beautiful."

"I remember you saying you liked orchids," Oskar said with an easy smile. "I couldn't remember if you liked them better than roses, though, so…"

He pulled a dozen red roses from behind his back. Melody laughed, although it quickly turned into a giggle as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She gestured him in and looked around for a place to put the flowers. It was a lovely gesture. None of her previous boyfriends had ever bought her flowers, not even on Valentine's Day.

"How are things at the office going?" she asked over her shoulder, placing the orchid on the coffee table.

"With the FBI?"

"Yeah. I guess with all of your millions—"

"Billions."

"Millions, billions, whatever. More than I've ever seen. How many offices do you have, actually? Like, you have your FBI office. Where else?"

"I have an office in each of my company buildings. One in each of my homes—"

"Homes? Multiple?"

Oskar nodded.

Melody narrowed her eyes at him. "I think I hate you a little bit right now. You have too much money."

"Is money all that matters to you?" Oskar teased. He waggled his eyebrows, and Melody fought to keep herself from smiling back at him. It was a futile, effort, though. "But I don't actually have an office with the FBI anymore."

Melody's eyes widened. "What? Why? Did they fire you because you followed Fezioni out here?"

"No. I quit. I can't stand taking orders, and they are just too restrictive. All their rules and their strict chain of command. I mean, I could work my way up to the top, but why bother starting at the bottom with them when I'm already at the top with all of my other enterprises? So I quit, and I'm going to focus on being an Alpha and businessman full time. I think I can do more good that way. Besides, I don't need a gun to be badass."

"That you don't."

By this time Melody had finished trimming the roses and arranged them in a vase. She shook her head as she put them on her kitchen table, narrowing her eyes slightly at Oskar.

He really did have that top dog, alpha male mentality, but quitting anything–even if he hated it–was just not in his personality. There had to be more to the story than what he was saying.

"So where does your son fit in with this?"

"I'll take some time to adjust and help Julius adjust. It's going to be a big change for both of us. But I'm going to be moving to Blackcliff, at least for the time being. He knows the town and he's got friends in school. I want a good place for him to grow up. I've been talking with the other Shifters, and a lot of them like the idea of getting out of the city, too."

Melody nodded. She knew some people would have a problem with having so many Shifters around, but they would have to deal. She would like Oskar being in town.

"Plus I'm still going to develop that ski hill and invest in a few hotels and new restaurants around here," Oskar continued. "So it's not like I'm going to be lacking in things to do."

"Good. Because I'm not going to start chasing ghosts all over the world with you so you can be a mega FBI star. I like being a realtor right here, thank you very much."

The smile on Oskar's face faded. "Speaking of ghosts…"

She knew what he was asking. Melody put her hand on his arm and squeezed gently. "I haven't seen Cindy since you started the process to adopt Julius back into your custody. I think she's moved on. That's a good thing."

"I know. I'm glad she found some peace."

Melody cupped his face, brushing her lips against his. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her closer, and she gasped. Her heartbeat increased as she tangled her fingers in his hair, breaching his mouth with her tongue. He opened readily for her, answering her movements with his own.

She thrust her hips forward, grinding through their clothing. A moan escaped–if they didn't get going right away, then it was doubtful that they would be leaving the house all night. His tongue swirled around hers and she decided she wasn't that hungry after all.

His hand cupped her ass. His eyes widened as he traced beneath the curve. "Are you wearing any underwear?"

Melody giggled. "A thong."

Oskar's eyes grew hooded.

"Do you have dinner reservations?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. We can cancel, though." Oskar's mouth moved to her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. Bolts of pleasure shot through her veins, pooling thick and hot in her belly. "I'm not very hungry."

"Me, either."

"Correction." Oskar pulled back, his eyes twinkling. "I am
very
hungry. For something I can't get in a restaurant."

"Me, too," Melody blurted. Reluctantly she pulled away from his arms, but only so she could grab his hand and lead him to the bedroom. Excitement coursed through her, her eyes bright as Oskar kept kissing her.

They fell into bed with a tangle of limbs, shedding clothing, their movements becoming more heated and desperate as the months of separation and tension broke free, finally letting them come together in full passion. Melody dug her fingers into Oskar's back, their gazes locked with one another, their movements in sync as he entered her.

"Is this what you wanted?" he grunted, suddenly stopping. A frown furrowed his brow. "To be responsible for a child so suddenly?"

Melody thrust her own hips forward, but finding Oskar unresponsive, she sighed. Apparently, talk came first. "No. It's not what I wanted. Did you want to become a single father?"

"No. But I want it now." Oskar smiled, almost shyly. "I'd like it better if I had someone with me, though."

"It's a little early for that, isn't it?" Melody arched a brow. "I mean… this is only our first date."

"Date? I thought this was a business meeting." He began rocking his hips again, making Melody moan, and she forgot what she was going to say. "I'd love to take you on a million dates. No, make that a billion dates. One for each of those dollars I have too many of."

"Sounds good," Melody gasped. "Now shut up and kiss me."

Oskar laughed and obeyed her.

*****

THE END

Bonus Book 13: The Vampire Prince's Prisoner

By:
T.S. Ryder

Description

A curvy nomad in search of an escape PLUS a sexy vampire warrior who is heir to the throne PLUS his cold wife who has evil plans!

Avery Lathe is a nomad. Her entire life she’s travelled between the Severed Kingdoms and the land of Varlyn, ruled by the Vampire King Granzen Thorne. Avery has never thought of herself as special or important, but somehow, this poor curvy nomad has captured the eye of the Crown Prince.

Crown Prince Alistair Thorne is a vampire warrior, heir to the Crown of Varlyn. Married to a cold and distant princess, he cannot help but be drawn to the beautiful human Avery. After destroying her caravan and killing her abusive father, Alistair welcomes Avery into his bed, promising to protect her from the powers in the palace.

A prophecy exists that tells the tale of the half-human half-vampire prince that will unite the Severed Kingdoms and bring peace to the realm. Could Avery be the human woman to bring the prophecy to life? What will happen when the Vampire Princess senses a threat to her position? Caught between political intrigue and the machinations of her devious brother, Avery must not only survive, but also protect her unborn child: the bastard son of her Vampire Prince.

Her Vampire Prince

On the seventh full moon of a red year

The only daughter of a seventh son of the lands of Mygie will lie with a Vampire Prince

In nine months’ time, she will bear him a son born on a moonless night

Half-human half-vampire, he will be beautiful and terrible to behold

He will conquer the world and reunite the Severed Kingdoms

He shall be the greatest King that Varlyn has ever seen

The world will shudder from his power

-
        
Celisa the Prophet of Four Boulders

He could smell them. Prince Alastair Thorne lifted his nose in the air and took a deep breath. Humans, he could smell their sweat, the smoke from their camp, the fat of a roasting rabbit dripping into the fire. His mouth watered. He tongued the sharp fangs in his mouth knowing that soon he would be able to fill his thirst.

He listened to their sounds. Men and women went about their business unaware of the monsters lurking in the shadows. He ignored the low mutterings of men and focused on a woman singing a slow mournful song. The grumbling men were of no concern to him. He wasn’t interested in their kind. It was the women he wanted.

He could hear their light, high-pitched voices creating a tantalizing music that danced towards him. Closing his eyes for a moment, he just listened. He heard laughter from a group, a tittering that sounded like bells and a deep longing surged to the surface. They were so close.

He gripped his sword, his fingers digging into the supple leather of the handle. The blood lust was coming on. His heart began to pound, adrenaline pumped through his veins.

His pupils dilated and the darkness around him lit up. He could see everything clearly. Every blade of grass stood out in bright detail. The wind picked up making the boughs of the trees shudder. It was as if nature herself knew what was coming.

“On marks,” Alistair ordered. Behind him, fifty men unsheathed their swords and bared their fangs.

“Now!”he said. He took off at a run, racing towards the bright fires of nomad’s camp. He ran across the flat grassland as his men fanning out behind him. The dogs in the human camp began to bark furiously, tugging and straining at their leashes. The sound only made Alistair’s feet go faster. He opened his mouth and let out a screaming war cry echoed by the men around him.

They crashed on the camp the way a wave crashes on the shore. Swords clashed as women screamed. Men leapt up from their chairs and reached for their swords, but they were too slow and their blades dull.

The nomads were not fighters. As the vampires descended on their camp, the men panicked and fled. They abandoned their dull weapons on the ground to speed up their cowardly retreat. The abandoned women began running in all directions clutching at each other and screaming for help. It was chaos and madness. To his left there was a bright burst of flame as one of the elaborately decorated caravans of the nomads caught fire.

He was halfway through the camp before he came upon the first man willing to put up a fight. A fat nomad raced towards Alistair, holding his no doubt stolen sword like a cudgel. Bringing up his own sharp, well-hewn blade, Alastair took a moment to sneer at the nomad before cutting him down with one slice of his blade.

In disgust, Alastair watched as several men threw their women in front of them, attempting to use them as shields. Alastair ignored the women, leaving them weeping on the ground, crying for the men who had left them behind. Racing past them he charged down their weak men. With a fury, his sword raked across their backs and legs sending them screaming to the ground.

Heaving for breath, Alastair looked around the chaotic camp searching for another threat, another enemy. All he could see were women huddled together holding onto each other. Caravans burned, his men emptied the elaborate carts searching for anyone attempting to hide from their fury. He needed a warrior, someone willing to put up a real blade. Was there no one left? Had they really defeated the nomads that easily?

Alastair wasn’t ready to be done yet. Bloodlust pumped through his veins. He wanted a real fight, a real challenge. These weakling nomads had disappointed him. He felt unfulfilled. He spun in a circle his eyes scanning the camp for movement. There must be someone who would give him a proper fight.

He heard a scream from a caravan behind him and he turned around in time to see a woman tumble to the ground. There was a man behind her, holding her by her hair, wrenching and pulling her forward. She screamed and fought against him, her hands trying to pull him off her hair. But he was bigger and anytime the girl managed to get her feet underneath her he would kick them and she would fall again.

Alistair snarled and the man whirled around, bringing the girl with him. Her face was screwed up in pain and wet with tears. The crying had smeared her make-up, leaving tracks of dark tear lines down her pale skin. It did nothing to hide her beauty.

“Take her, not me,” the man screamed throwing the woman on the ground in front of him. She tumbled, falling directly below Alistair. On her hands and knees, she looked up at him beseechingly. Even there, in the hectic chaos of battle, she did not quiver with fear or beg for mercy. He expected to see anger and hatred in her face. Instead, she looked up at Alistair like he was her savior. He stared into her deep grey eyes and the longing in his stomach surged.

By the Gods she was beautiful. Alastair let his sword drop as he took all of her in. She had a full head of thick, dark hair, clear alabaster skin and grey eyes that shone in the moonlight. Through her poor nomad's dress, he could see she had an hourglass figure with full breasts and hips.

A fire surged within him. He wanted to take her right then and there. He wanted to push her down into the grass, enter her and bite her, draining the beauty and have her all at the same time. But there was something he needed to do first. He tightened his grip on his sword and moved around the kneeling woman, leaving her be.

Alastair snarled at the sniveling man. The nomad turned and ran, but he was far too slow. Alastair was on him in a moment. He grabbed the man’s shoulder and plunged his sword into his chest. The nomad cried out and went weak. Alistair pulled his sword free and the man fell to a heap at his feet.

“Weak men are not permitted in Varlyn,” he said as he spat on the body. He turned around and saw the beautiful woman was still kneeling. She stared at him, her mouth hanging open as her eyes darted between Alastair and the dead man.

Looking down at the corpse he could see the similarities. The nose and the hair color were the same. This must have been her father.

“What is your name, nomad?” the Prince asked her, blood dripping down his sword. Her father’s blood.

She paused for a moment, staring at him in confusion. “Avery Lathe, My Lord,” she finally said.

“Stand,” he ordered.

She rose to her feet and he was able to take her all in. Her thin nomad rags flapped in the wind as her long hair danced on her shoulders. She was like something out a dream, a perfect gift from the Gods left just for him. Caravans burned around him as his men called to each other, but all Alistair could focus on was her.

He took a step towards Avery, expecting her to run away, but she didn’t move. She remained frozen in the spot staring up at him. He took another step. He moved slowly—as if she were a frightened animal that might run at any sudden movement. The moon lit up her soft features and he could not stop staring at the perfect curve of her cheek. He wanted to touch her, to run his hands all over her soft flesh. He needed to feel her in his arms.

“Shall I take her to join the rest of the women, My Lord?” one of his men asked. It was like being awakened from a dream. He had been so focused on the creature in front of him that he had missed the end of the battle.

“No,” he said to his soldier. “She is mine, let no one touch her. Take her to my tent.”

She looked up at him startled. Her eyes went wide and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the soldier took her by the upper arm and pulled her away before she could speak.