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SERATI'S FLAME, Aug. 21, 2007
EGYPTIAN VOYAGE, Aug. 29, 2007
FERAL FASCINATION, Summer 2007
“Damned woman,” Alaan grumbled to himself. “Of all people, why does Tameth Serati-Cole have to be my Second? Nothing but trouble, hanging out with that Clan Hatsept pipsqueak, pale-faced, stringy-haired pimp. Who cares if she outranks almost every Seeker in the Western territories? She’s still a royal pain in the ass…”
And strong, reliable, beautiful. Hair so thick and long he wouldn’t mind wrapping himself in it. Not to mention a killer body that called to him whenever she walked by, and an ass so perfect… Wait a minute. What the hell was he thinking? The more he thought about the woman, the stronger the longing was that crept up the back of his mind and surrounded his heart with the need for a mate. But he couldn’t walk that path again. He couldn’t feel this way about Tameth, or anyone else. It wasn’t worth the heartache. His position as both a Seeker and son to the Serati Matriarch made life too dangerous for any woman foolish enough to love him.
Pushing away the dull, empty ache centered in his chest along with the raging hard-on that accompanied images of Tameth these days, Alaan painted on his customary scowl and walked the last flight of stairs up to her apartments.
He stopped cold in the middle of the wide, long hallway. What the hell was that? It sounded like…moaning. Sensing no danger, he started moving towards Tameth’s door with slow, measured steps, his boots silent as he padded across the plush carpet. All was quiet except for a murmur so faint Alaan was sure he would have missed it if not for his exceptional hearing. Something about the sound made his heart rate kick up. The sheaths covering his fangs tingled and itched, and the typically smooth skin over his brows furrowed into a deep frown. The barely audible sound caused a fierce physical reaction as his keen eyesight raked the area from one end of the long stretch to the other. There it was again, a feminine gasp and sigh that sounded like…
“Oh, yes, God, that feels so good. Mmm, a little lower.”
“Whatever you want, baby, however you want it,” whispered a seductive male voice. A very familiar, too-smooth male voice.
Before he’d even made a decision on what to do next, Alaan sprinted the final distance to Tameth’s door, moving silently towards the source of the noises.
Her cries of pleasure wrapped around his cock and squeezed, while at the same time the very thought of her with another male had his gut twisting in knots. A scorching surge of anger whipped through him so blazing hot, the ends of his hair singed a coal black.
So she was moaning, eh? Well, the person who made her create that sound had better be prepared to have the living shit kicked out of him.
With one huge shoulder braced against the door, Alaan readied himself to force it open, then decided to change his tactic. To hell with the subtle approach. He stepped back, lifted a heavily-booted size thirteen and kicked with all his strength. The door flew several feet into the room followed by a pissed off six-foot-five, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound Seeker.
Fangs bared in fury, Alaan burst into Tameth’s living room ready to do some serious damage. His fingers automatically closed over the handle of the customized laser-sighted titanium pistol in the holster at the small of his back. Then his whole body went completely still.
Please, God, let the earth open up and swallow me now.
A fully clothed Kenoe sat on the couch, knees spread, with an equally clothed Tameth sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of him receiving a shoulder massage. The two couldn’t have looked more like best girlfriends if they’d tried.
And both of them had the smirk from hell plastered across their smug faces.
"Uh, please tell me you’re going to pay for that, Alaan,” Tameth said easily, nodding towards the ruined door flat on the carpet. Without waiting for a response, she leaned her head to the side and Kenoe pressed his pale fingers into an obviously sore spot on her shoulder.