One hundred feet to the front door, soon she’d be home free. She dodged the drunks, the stoners, the lovers, the dancers, and had almost made it to the exit when Lincoln stepped into her path.

Emeline rolled her eyes, sucked in a deep breath, but choked when an unexpected laugh erupted. She doubled over, holding her side, from the sudden hysteria carrying her away. “Of course I would run into you. It’s been that kinda night.”

Lincoln didn’t return her humor. He stood there, arms folded over his chest, trying to appear intimidating. “I was going to let you go. Leave you alone to live your life after seeing you at the club. Then you show up here, to see me.” He signaled to the DJ and the music ended. “You miss me, baby? Came to apologize? Kiss and make up? Start on your knees.” He pointed to the hardwood floor.

A circle formed around them. Emeline scanned the crowd, checking for Ridley and the mysterious goddess. Lincoln whistled, snapped his fingers in front her face. “Don’t have all day.”

What did I ever see in this morally bankrupt, egotistical man? Definitely not her finest moment. He opened his pants. Unzipped his fly. Took out his less than impressive, erect dick and stood there with a stupid grin. He chanted ‘knees’ and the crowd joined the chorus. Her blood boiled at him, the drunk crowd, Ridley, Avery, everything. The crowd wanted a show. Tonight, they came to the right place.

With a sultry grin plastered on her face, Emeline clasped his dick. She stroked up from the base, circled the head, and let her hand slide down. Lincoln’s head fell back and he groaned, deep and throaty. Catcalls swept through the room along with flashes from cell phone cameras as he thrust his hips out and began rocking. “You remember how I like it.” He panted.

How he liked it was pretty much how every man liked it and nothing noteworthy to remember. That was Lincoln’s problem; he thought he was special because of his family’s influence and because his genitals dangled.

She’d fallen for it. So what did that say about her standards? Not much, but tonight wasn’t about reminiscing. After what happened to Belinda, Emeline had a taste for vengeance and Lincoln volunteered to be on the menu.

She cupped his balls, rolled them in her hand. He moaned, gave a throaty laugh and high-fived the dude standing next to him.

Yeah, enjoying it bastard? She tightened her hand, ready to strike.

Awareness pricked her senses. Darkness swirled at the edge of her mind, drowning her in waves of fury. She fought it, retreating would allow the sensation to swallow her. Unconscious at Lincoln’s mercy, and the crowd was not an option.

She shook her head to clear the fog—and collided with Avery’s feral glare.

Though her insides squirmed and urged her to tuck tail and run, Emeline couldn’t move. Avery’s furious glare rooted her to the spot. His lips were peeled back and he growled. She actually heard it. Swore she felt the sound reverberate in her chest. He shoved two people out of his way and broke the circle, just as she twisted Lincoln’s junk three hundred and sixty degrees.

He screamed, went up on his tip-toes, “Get her off! Get her off!”

Emeline jabbed her elbow into his throat and the heel of her palm into his nose. His head snapped back, blood gushed and splattered on her. All the while, she kept his dick and balls in a vise grip. A fist from one of Lincoln’s friends came flying at her head.

Avery blocked the blow and tossed the guy into the nearest wall. Another came at him. A quick jab and an uppercut knocked his opponent senseless. “Wanna let go of his shit or do you plan on taking it home for Christmas?” he shouted over the din while putting a guy in a headlock and flinging him into the wall.

“I don’t want this under my tree.” Emeline kicked Lincoln’s knee and released his parts. He collapsed, cradling his crotch. She picked up a bottle of whiskey next to the punch bowl, doused her offending hand, and dried her palm on her jeans.

She hadn’t come here to start a brawl, but—oh well.



There is no such thing as a chance meeting.

There’s no room in Avery Nicolis life for an obsession, yet why else does he stalk Emeline Gamble. Lurking in the shadows, he hungers for a woman he can’t have. Between the secrets he guards and anarchy roiling in his soul, his only solace are his glimpses of Emeline. He will resist her, protect her from himself, and deny his desire to claim her heart.

Emeline Gamble was a Watcher for the Order—a secret society of women charged with monitoring the offspring of the gods. For months, she observed Avery Nicolis, an elite mercenary, Descendant of Ra, and enemy of the Order. Never knowing he had her in his crosshairs.

Trapped in a lie, Emeline is forced to accept Avery as her bodyguard. Compelled to spend time with him, she learns to care for his tortured soul and see the hero lurking beneath the assassin’s façade.

But every word out of her mouth is a lie. Every action a betrayal. Because to save her family she is forced to accept a new assignment, deliver Avery Nicolis to the Goddess of Chaos, alive…

And do not fall in love with him.


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