Under The Alpha's Protection by Doris O'Connor
Tags: Erotic,
Paranormal, Romance, BDSM
Blurb:
Nikita Ashton and Raoul Saint Germain have been friends for five years,
so when Nikita is attacked, there is only one place she can run to—straight
into Raoul's arms.
Raoul is the Alpha of his pack and he is furious that the woman he loves
has been harmed on his territory. Were it not for the fact that Nikita does not
believe in anything even remotely paranormal, his wolf would have claimed her
aeons ago.
Nikita is in need of tender, loving care, not his baser needs that are
threatening to overtake him.
However, when Nikita admits that she knows about his being in the
lifestyle, the Dom in him cannot resist the challenge to make her his
submissive.
Blissfully happy
in their new Dom/sub relationship, everything changes when Nikita is kidnapped.
Can Raoul get to her in time to save her life?
Story Excerpt:
"We will have to have a
conversation about this warped self-image of yours soon, but now is not the
time or the place. You're a beautiful woman, Nikita, and anyone saying otherwise
will have me to answer to. Now drop the robe and stop stalling, before I have
to drag you to the hospital to get these properly checked over."
Nikita tensed at the mention
of the hospital, and he chuckled.
"I'm not going to any
damn hospital. You can't make me." She glared at him over her shoulder,
and he quirked an eyebrow at her in that irritatingly superior way of his that
always turned her insides aflutter. She dropped her gaze to his throat instead
and immediately wished she hadn't. This close she could see him swallow, the
movement of his Adam's apple strangely erotic, and her fingers itched to trace
the veins down to the thatch of dark hair she could just about see in the V of
his polo shirt. A shirt that clung to his muscular frame and only served to
outline the bulging biceps, as he raised an arm to brush his dark hair out of
his eyes. He was in need of a haircut, his hair longer than she had ever seen
it, the perfect length to grab hold and…
Nikita bit her lip and shut
her eyes for a second at the wayward direction her thoughts were taking.
"You know I hate
hospitals. I don't ever want to go back there."
Hospitals meant death and
grief, and she had sworn on her mother's death bed that she would never set
foot in that place again, if she could help it. Unbidden, the tears fell as
they always did when she thought of her mum, her grief still as fresh and raw
as it had been two years ago.
Raoul made a rough sound in
the back of his throat, and then his hands were cupping her face, his thumbs
wiping away her tears.
"I'm sorry, squirt. That
was thoughtless of me," he said.
She forced her eyes open, and
the quiet compassion she saw in his azure gaze made her cry harder.
"No, I'm sorry. It's
been two years. You'd think I wouldn't go into meltdown mode every time the
hospital is even mentioned. Whoever said time is a great healer is a blasted
liar, and I'm such a goddamn watering pot. Dammit, I'm sorry. That's the second
time today I got you all wet."
Raoul laughed—a deep belly
rumble that trembled through her until she had no choice but to smile back at
him. He always managed to do that to her. One of the many reasons why she loved
him.
Her heart clenched painfully,
as the truth dawned on her. She did love him, and sometime over the last five
years, that love had blossomed and deepened, until she couldn't imagine her
life without him in it. Nikita wanted more, so much more, but he was her friend
and only saw her as the little squirt he always pulled out of one scrap after
the other.
"Don't you worry about
me, squirt. Now drop that robe and hold still while I see to these."
Nikita did so, and a tense
silence fell between them, only interspersed by their combined breathing. She
winced a few times, as his nimble fingers smeared the ointment over her wounds,
and he murmured his husky apologies. His hot breath skittered across her slick
flesh, and Nikita swallowed her groan.
"What's in that
stuff?" she finally asked to break the tension and to distract herself
from the tingles of awareness his touch created.
"Oh, this and that. It's
an old family recipe. It aids the healing process and staves off infection.
Works better than any of that new fandangled mumbo jumbo as my grandfather
would have said."
She heard the wistful note in
his voice and turned slightly to see his expression. The action exposed her
breasts, and she made a hasty grab for the robe to pull it up over her front.
Again, Raoul's hands on her tightened and then released. He hastily wrenched
his eyes up to her face and sat back on his haunches, before straightening up.
She hadn't realized that he had been kneeling on the floor behind her, and the
thought of this big strong man on his knees for her made her feel quite
light-headed.
Raoul wiped his hands on the
hand towel and then screwed the lid back on the old-fashioned jam jar that held
the family ointment.
"We'll have to reapply
that several times more overnight, for maximum effect, so I'm afraid you're
stuck here with me for the foreseeable future."
"I don't want to impose
on you, if—"
"Don't be an
idiot." He cut off her protest with a wave of his large hand. "If you
think for one minute that I would let you walk out of here, after what almost
happened to you tonight, then you're insane. You're staying right here with me.
You can take the bed, and I'll sleep on the couch."
"You can't sleep on the
couch." The thought of his six foot five frame sandwiched on this couch
was ridiculous. "You're far too big. I'll take the couch. I can't turf you
out of your own bed."
"And you can't sleep on
the couch. Your back needs tender care. It's not up for discussion. You're on
my bed."
He crossed his arms and
clenched his jaw, but Nikita was in no mood to back down from this. She could
be just as stubborn if she had to be.
"Fine, then you'll sleep
in there with me. I'm sure a man with your reputation has a nice big bed, and I
won't take up much room at all." Her voice wavered slightly as his face
grew murderous, but she plowed on regardless. "So that's sorted
then."
"This is far from
sorted." Raoul was growling again, and Nikita thanked the universe she was
still seated, as she very much doubted her legs would have been able to carry
her right now. He bent, putting his hands either side of her on the back of the
couch, until she had to lean backwards to escape him.
"What reputation,
squirt?"
Author
Bio:
Glutton for punishment would be a good description
for Doris... at least that's what she hears on an almost daily basis when
people find out that she has a brood of nine children, ranging from adult to
toddler and lives happily in a far too small house, cluttered with children,
pets, dust bunnies, and one very understanding and supportive husband. Domestic
goddess she is not.
There is always something better to do after all,
like working on the latest manuscript and trying not to scare the locals even
more than usual by talking out loud to the voices in her head. Her characters
tend to be pretty insistent to get their stories told, and you will find Doris
burning the midnight oil on a regular basis. Only time to get any peace and
quiet and besides, sleep is for wimps.
She likes to spin sensual, sassy, and sexy tales
involving alpha heroes to die for, and heroines who give as good as they get.
From contemporary to paranormal, BDSM to F/F, and Ménage, haunting love stories
are guaranteed.
STALKING LINKS:
Georgina’s
seen both the good and the bad that comes from having mates. The love
the bonding creates lasts a lifetime. But that’s just it. After she
watches her mother die of a broken heart, the anxiety Georgina develops
over bonding to Damien and Austin is well warranted. Can she get over
her fear, or will she keep the pact with her brother that they’re better
off alone?
