Bad Blood: Latter-Day Olympians Page 19

  The first bullet is always free. After that, you gotta pay.

  The Zero Dog War

  © 2011 Keith Melton

  Zero Dog Missions, Book 1

  After accidentally blowing up both a client facility and a cushy city contract in the same day, pyromancer and mercenary captain Andrea Walker is scrambling to save her Zero Dogs. A team including (but not limited to) a sexually repressed succubus, a werewolf with a thing for health food, a sarcastic tank driver/aspiring romance novelist, a three-hundred-pound calico cat, and a massive demon who really loves to blow stuff up.

  With the bankruptcy vultures circling, Homeland Security throws her a high-paying, short-term contract even the Zero Dogs can’t screw up: destroy a capitalist necromancer bent on dominating the gelatin industry with an all-zombie workforce. The catch? She has to take on Special Forces Captain Jake Sanders, a man who threatens both the existence of the team and Andrea’s deliberate avoidance of romantic entanglements.

  As Andrea strains to hold her dysfunctional team together long enough to derail the corporate zombie apocalypse, the prospect of getting her heart run over by a tank tread is the least of her worries. The government never does anything without an ulterior motive. Jake could be the key to success…or just another bad day at the office for the Zeroes.

  Warning: Contains explicit language, intense action and violence, rampaging zombie hordes, a heroine with an attitude and flamethrower, Special Forces commandos, ninjas, apocalyptic necromancer capitalist machinations, absurd parody and mayhem, self-deluded humor, irreverence, geek humor, mutant cats, low-brow comedy, and banana-kiwi-flavored gelatin.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Zero Dog War:

  I double-timed it up the stairs off the foyer, thumping my way toward Gavin’s rooms. I wanted nothing more than to get this over with ASAP, and I’d just raced up to the second-floor landing when I rounded the banister and crashed right into Captain Sanders. For one moment all I could think about was muscles and the smell of gun oil…until I realized he held me steady, his large hands on my upper arms. I shoved back from him, and he let me go. I could feel my skin grow blazing hot.

  “Excuse me.” I stepped farther away. He’d come early. I hadn’t expected him until tonight. Something else to deal with, and my list already floweth over.

  He smiled, but he had a way of looking at me that made me feel as if I were the focal point of the universe, as if he waited for every word I might chose to speak. I didn’t like it. The word disconcerting sprang to mind.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve been more careful. I was looking for you.”

  “I’ll let you know when I find me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, but his smile didn’t falter. I took a deep breath and willed my heart to airbrake back to a normal speed. A muscle in my cheek might’ve twitched with my effort to suppress my stupid schoolgirl-crush reactions. I clamped down even tighter. I had a job to do and a team to run. I sure as hell wouldn’t allow this distraction to endanger either.

  “I wondered if we could sit down together and go over a few tactical scenarios before the briefing,” he said. “Make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “I’m still tracking down my people.” I glanced at my watch. “And I’m scheduled out until about…eight twenty-five. And hey, that’s when your briefing starts. How unfortunate.”

  His smile slipped a notch. “Maybe afterwards—”

  “Look, Captain Sanders—”

  “Call me Jake. Save syllables.”

  “Fine. Jake. I’m busy running a team, Jake. Not a lot of time to attend your little tête-à-tête.” Hail, and all witness Captain Andrea Walker behaving like an ass—yet, I couldn’t stop now. Inertia was a horrible thing.

  He didn’t seem daunted as the wattage on his smile dialed back up to blazing. “May I call you Andrea? In private, of course.”

  God. Damn. It. Men, you let them pick up the ball and they ran off the field with it, yelling how they’d won. “I’m more comfortable with Captain Walker, Jake, thank you.”

  “All right, Captain Walker.”

  We stood so close, with no one else around. My skin felt afire, flushed, and sweat dampened my armpits. The urge to drop my gaze from his eyes pulled at me like an iron chain, but I refused to look away. Dominance games? I could play them all week, and he’d soon find out if he didn’t stand down. I stepped back from him again, putting even more distance between us. Any farther and I’d fall down the stairs—but I still didn’t blink, so point to me.

  He didn’t pursue. “I’m confident we can map out some strategies to maximize our team assets.”

  “Our team assets? Look, Jake, those are my people. Mine. I’m responsible for them, for keeping them safe and getting them back here every night after we go out and bust our asses, blowing shit up. I call the shots. I’m the only Captain Ahab around here. You can dispense advice when I damn well decide I need the input of a magical Green Beret.”

  Something flared in his eyes—either anger or respect—before the professional detachment slammed back down. Anger I could understand, but respect would only vex me more. I didn’t need his damn respect.

  “I didn’t mean to violate protocols,” he said in a smooth, calm voice. “I just want to make certain we mesh together well. That our leadership styles are fully integrated to avoid any splintering of command.”

  Mesh together well. That conjured up some distracting images. Oh, he did vex me something awful, the bastard. “We can fully integrate if you listen to my orders. When we’re hot, I’m calling the shots.”

  “Understood. I’m here to support and advise. My only goal is to achieve our mission objectives.”

  “Then I suggest you stay out of my way. I’m driving this truck.” I walked around him, careful not to touch him again, and continued up the next set of stairs, willing my fists to remain unclenched and my jaw muscles to cease and desist from grinding my teeth to powder.

  He called after me. “One last thing, Captain Walker.”

  I glanced down. He had his game face on—a hard-as-steel, raptor-eyed, chew-dynamite-and-spit-out-nitroglycerin look which appeared pretty damn impressive. “What?”

  “I meant what I said about achieving mission objectives. I’ll do whatever I have to. There are lives to save.”

  I swallowed my cheeky comment and gave him the benefit of a nod, despite my smoldering irritation. As if I didn’t know there were civvy lives at stake. Who’d he think he was dealing with? Backwater hicks?

  I spun on my heel and took the stairs two at a time, eager to be away from him. God help me, this might just be the hardest damn job I’d ever done.

  Some secrets are dangerous. This Secret is deadly.

  Something Secret This Way Comes

  © 2011 Sierra Dean

  Secret McQueen, Book 1

  For Secret McQueen, her life feels like the punch line for a terrible joke. Abandoned at birth by her werewolf mother, hired as a teen by the vampire council of New York City to kill rogues, Secret is a part of both worlds, but belongs to neither. At twenty-two, she has carved out as close to a normal life as a bounty hunter can.

  When an enemy from her past returns with her death on his mind, she is forced to call on every ounce of her mixed heritage to save herself—and everyone else in the city she calls home. As if the fate of the world wasn’t enough to deal with, there’s Lucas Rain, King of the East Coast werewolves, who seems to believe he and Secret are fated to be together. Too bad Secret also feels a connection with Desmond, Lucas’s second-in-command…

  Warning: This book contains a sarcastic, kick-ass bounty hunter; a metaphysical love triangle with two sexy werewolves; a demanding vampire council; and a spicy seasoning of sex and violence.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Something Secret This Way Comes:

  “I really need to shower,” I admitted, taking a moment to recognize my clothing wasn’t the worst part of me. My cheeks and mouth were smeared with blood, and judging
by how heavy my hair felt, it had begun to mat the curls together, which must have looked quite dramatic. My nails had bits of werewolf cheek embedded under them. Gross. I disappeared into my bedroom to fetch my robe, then returned to the living room, where Desmond remained motionless. “Make yourself at home. If you need to change, there are some sweats and T-shirts in the bottom drawer of my dresser that might fit you.” I pointed down the dark hallway. “Help yourself.”

  Stumbling into the bathroom, I didn’t bother to close the door. I shucked off my soiled clothing and turned the water on as hot as I could, then climbed into the shower.

  I stood under the scalding torrent until the water was no longer pink with blood. It felt like hours and a few layers of flesh later that I finally set foot on dry land again.

  I couldn’t be bothered to dry my hair other than to towel off as much water as I could. My curls had always been fat and loose, not tight and frizzy, so I wasn’t worried about them getting too out of control.

  Slipping on the lilac silk robe, I wondered why I had ever bought such a stupid thing. It clung to me everywhere water was still on my body.

  After exiting the bathroom, a cool wall of air greeted me in the living room, but there was no sign of Desmond. My loveseat was vacant and the television remained off. I didn’t see him in the kitchen, either. I crossed the short distance to my bedroom and stood in the doorway.

  He sat on the end of my bed, shirtless, wearing a pair of old, baggy black sweats that had been left by the only man I’d dated long enough for him to leave things behind. Several fresh cuts marred Desmond’s chest, all of which were in the process of healing into pink scars. They would be gone by morning. His head was in his hands, and when he looked up I could see the weariness and frustration in his eyes. I assumed he was worried about Lucas until he spoke.

  “I don’t know what we would have done if something had happened to you tonight.”

  Again with this we business. It was the second time he’d said it tonight.

  I got defensive, thinking he was being overbearing. “But you don’t even like me. You can’t stand to look at me. You don’t think—” My temper was bubbling, but he was shaking his head.

  “Lucas knew the minute he met me that when he became king of the pack it would be with me as his second. He knew it when we were only children. Because of his certainty, his family took me and my brother in, treated us like their own sons, and raised us to understand that kind of life in a way our own parents could not.”

  I could think of only one response. “Dominick’s your brother?” It was difficult to reconcile the idea of short, blond Dominick being related to dark, olive-skinned Desmond. Not to mention their different demeanors.

  He nodded and continued. “The reason Lucas knew I would be so important to him is that he and I share a variation of the same soul-bond you two share.”

  Puzzle pieces began to fall into place, forming the answer to my most lingering question. I sat on the bed next to him, suddenly feeling rather queasy.

  “So, what you’re saying is… I mean the thing Genevieve said at the club…?”

  “About the double bond.”

  “Yes. I take it she wasn’t referring to the bonds between me and Lucas and you and Lucas.”

  He shook his head again. “No. She meant between you and Lucas, and you—”

  “With you.” I’d suspected as much from what Genevieve had insinuated, but it was different to hear it right from the wolf’s mouth.

  He looked at me, but I was staring at the empty armchair by the door. “I know how weird this must be for you,” he said, his voice sounding weary. “I didn’t believe it myself until the elevator earlier tonight. I could taste you so clearly it made my head spin.”

  I took a deep, shaking breath. “Me too.” I was beginning to feel tired, and I knew it wasn’t just from the fight. Sunrise couldn’t be too far off and I would need to sleep soon, but I still had so many questions. “Is this normal?”

  “We always knew it was possible. It’s rare for kings to be soul-bonded to their seconds, but when it does happen it creates a powerful structure for leadership. We can read each other very well. But, with that, we knew the connection could either negate the possibility of Lucas being soul-bonded to a future queen, or it would mean that I might be connected to her as well. There isn’t a science to soul-bonds. We honestly didn’t know what would happen.”

  “So what is this, then?” I gestured from myself to him. “We’re some sort of weird soul threesome? I mean, to be honest, I wasn’t totally willing to accept that I was destined to be with Lucas, and now you’re telling me I’m destined to be with both of you? Is that how this works?” Anger tainted the words, but I couldn’t help it.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  “All I know is since meeting you I can’t stop thinking about you. And my best friend, my king, believes you’re meant to be his queen. Normally you’d be with the one you felt bonded to. But you admitted you can taste us both, which means neither bond is stronger.”

  “Why didn’t I taste you before tonight?”

  “We wondered about that yesterday. We figured you were only connected to him, so we didn’t question it. My best guess is because he’s king, his influence over you was stronger. You’d never experienced the soul-bond before, so the first taste you got was from the most alpha wolf among us. It wasn’t until you’d been away from him longer than a few minutes you were able to connect with me.”

  Sounded like a lot of guessing and not a lot of real answers.

  “Did you know?”

  “What?”

  “Could you sense me yesterday?”

  He was silent, his gaze looking at the wall next to my head. “Yes.”

  This frustrated me more. They both knew about what was happening, but had chosen to leave me out of the loop, making me feel stupid and unprepared. I stood and turned my irritation on him.

  “I haven’t dated in two years, and suddenly I’m meant to be with not one but two werewolves I’ve only known for a couple of days.” I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. “If I hadn’t tasted you both, if it didn’t feel like electricity went through me when either of you touch me, I’d think this whole thing was bullshit.” I put a lot of emphasis on the last word and directed it right at him, then dropped myself into the armchair.

  “I didn’t want to believe it either.”

  I sighed with a little more drama than necessary. “I fail to see how this is a negative for you,” I snapped, then immediately regretted it.

  Desmond snatched his bloody shirt off the floor and threw it at me none too gently. “Do you know whose blood is on that shirt?” I wasn’t sure if he wanted a reply or not, so I smelled it. My heart sank.

  “Mine.” His was on it as well, but I knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. I let the shirt drop back to the floor.

  “Yeah, yours.” He stood, picking it up and tossing it back across the room. With him this close to me, his anger rising, all the hairs on my arms prickled and a peculiar tingling danced across my skin.

  “Desmond…” I remembered what happened the last time I had this feeling in such close proximity to someone I was soul-bonded to.

  “I thought you were going to die. When that wolf got her nails into you and you went limp…”

  So it had been a she-wolf who had attacked me.

  “I was playing dead.” I had to stifle a nervous laugh when I heard the words out loud. Desmond wasn’t smiling at all, his hands shaking, and in one fast motion he grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me out of the chair with such force my head spun.

  “You asked me what the negative is for me? When you went limp, I saw every chance I had for happiness die with you. I could stand ten feet away from you for the rest of my life and nothing, not sex or money or power, could match how that feels. Do you get that?” He gave me a shake for emphasis.

  I braced my hands against his
chest. Where my fingers touched his bare skin, it felt like the dark hair there was made of electric wire. I jerked my hand back for a second knowing he must have felt the shock, but I couldn’t not touch him. I needed to have my hands on him.

  All sorts of very human thoughts were running through my head. This is Lucas’s best friend. Isn’t Lucas my boyfriend? No. Is it okay to sleep with someone and say my metaphysical connection to him made me do it? Okay, that’s actually a pretty good excuse.

  This close to him, I saw his eyes were not true gray but rather a washed-out violet, which was a pleasant surprise, giving his already striking face a little extra uniqueness. He loosened his grip on me, and I stood flat on the ground again.

  “Yes,” I said.

  His hands were still on my arms, and I felt like I was on fire and freezing to death at the same time. I shivered. He rubbed my arms with the familiarity of an old habit, warming me with his touch but making the heat move lower as well. My body shuddered.

  “Yes?” He had forgotten the question.

  I was amazed we even remembered our names with this much static electricity dancing between us. All I kept thinking was, he wants me. And right then what I wanted more than anything was to be wanted. Maybe it was weak of me, but it would make me feel safe and protected, if only for one night.

  We were staring at each other for so long I thought my entire being would unravel in his hands. In one breath I was wondering if I’d gotten the signals wrong or imagined the chemistry that was setting fire to the air. Was I misreading anger for passion? In the next breath his mouth was on mine.

  Bad Blood

  Lucienne Diver

  The gods play…and mortals pay.