A Hero to Master Me...
Is available for pre-order NOW!
The final book in the Carver Brother Series is finally available! Come see Mike Carver's story as he hunts and catches his prey on the most important mission of his life... Zaraiah Nelson.
Zaraiah Nelson is in a bad place. Has been since she spent time in hell. No one knows her secret, but it eats at her every day. Burns her soul at night. Even those closest to her don’t understand the needs that drive her, the need for action. The need to punish herself for her fatal failure. No one, that is, until Mike Carver
Mike recognizes Zaraiah the moment he meets her but can’t place where. He knows she has issues, that something isn’t quite what it seems with the dark-skinned beauty, but she refuses to tell him willingly. What she doesn’t understand is that he’s Force Recon. Gathering information is what he does. No mission has ever been this important, and Mike has only ever failed one mission. That one time in his life will prove to be the key to Zaraiah. If only he can put all the pieces together…
There was pain in her eyes. And resignation. Mike recognized it the second she truly met his gaze, knowing him for the predator he was. Even his family had no idea what he’d really done while in the Marines. They knew it hadn’t been pleasant—one reason he never talked about it—but most of what he’d done had been so classified Mike was surprised he hadn’t been targeted for some kind of kill list. Score one for the good ’ole US of A. Black Ops only touched the surface of what he’d done, the things he’d seen. Only once had he broken protocol, and he’d been thankful he hadn’t lost so much of himself to the Corps that he’d follow the strict letter of his orders. He knew pain. He knew sorrow. And this woman held both in spades. Now, as then, he felt like a critical piece of his life was about to click into place. That failed mission had signaled his retirement—his own decision. What would this lap dance do for him?
“Are you going to kick me out of my apartment?” she asked. Over the din of the music and drunken laughter, it was hard to hear her, but Mike was focused on her so completely, she could have whispered the question and he’d have heard her.
“I’m taking a dance,” was his matter-of-fact response.
“And if I refuse?”
Did she shiver? Her skin glimmered under the lights but Mike couldn’t tell if it was from sweat or from the lotion she used to give her skin a slight shimmer.
The section she took him to created the illusion of privacy. There were dividers, but cameras still canvassed the place. No doors or solid walls. Looking around him, Mike saw silhouettes of dancers and their patrons all around him. He hated that they’d potentially have an audience, but he was just damned selfish enough to take this from her.
“You can sit here,” she said, gesturing to a small couch. Perfume seemed to waft from the upholstery hanging in a haze through the whole area. What he wouldn’t give to get a good, unimpeded whiff of her scent. No matter. That would come later. Right now, he had work to do. Without a word, he sat.
“You need to sit on your hands,” she told him.
Like hell. “I know the rules,” he growled. “Hands off the ladies. I won’t touch you.” With a grin he added, “tonight,” and stretched his arms over the back of the couch.
Zaraiah swallowed, her eyes going wide. Oh yeah. She knew. Mike was ready to begin this, though he had no idea where he was going. He knew he was moving in her direction. Where they went together would ultimately be up to her, but he had the feeling she needed this as much as he did. His sexual tastes had always been more kink than vanilla, but he’d repress himself if necessary. Anything to have her. Mike was a Dominant in his heart of hearts. One reason the military had agreed with him. But in bed, he craved dominating a woman just to see her blossom under his touch. Could he give that up for her?
When he nodded for her to begin. Zaraiah gave a defeated sigh, her shoulders relaxing as if a weight had been lifted. Then she began to dance.
The sensual sway of her hips mesmerized Mike as she moved around him. Her movements should have looked practiced. Instead, she was naturally sensual, as if her dance had always been for him alone. In that moment, Mike felt like he was the only man in her world. Thank God he’d sent the two pups away before they’d gotten a look at her like this. Mike was sure he’d have lost his ever-loving shit if they had. As it was, he knew this was her last night in this place. She was his. Pure and simple. Now he just had to convince her of it.
With a sigh, she gave herself up to the music, dipping in front of him, rubbing and stroking his thighs. Naturally, Mike’s mind went straight to one theme and he nearly groaned out loud. Now wasn’t the time. He had to have complete control of himself. Figuring her out would take some doing, but he was confident he could unravel this mystery. Melanie said she’d seemed restless. Like she needed something. Looking at her now, he could see the fine muscle underneath all that silky looking skin. She was obviously athletic. More than just dancing. There was evidence of hard work in her limbs and torso. Did she work out? If so, it had to involve more than weight training. She was too nimble and graceful. As she twirled around, presenting him with the perfectly rounded globes of her ass, he saw it. His breath caught.
Just above the dimple at the small of her back was a tiny tattoo. The symbol? A sword standing on end with a snake wrapped around it. Zaraiah was a fucking combat medic. He’d bet his life on it. A few more things clicked into place. The anxiousness. Restlessness. If she hadn’t had time to adjust to civi life, she was likely feeling the need for action. The superb condition of her body said she was either newly discharged or continued her daily workouts to ease the stress. But why had she taken up stripping instead of using her skills in the civilian world?
Right. With an ass like hers, why wouldn’t she? She had to make more doing this than she could as an EMT. But, if she did this regularly, why not get a more up-scale apartment? Perhaps her boyfriend had frowned on her working here more than a night or two a month? Mike knew he sure would. Hell, he wouldn’t want her to at all! Not because he looked down on her or her chosen profession, but he was a territorial bastard. He wanted no eyes on his woman but his. And, God help him, Zaraiah Nelson was his woman.