Chasing Love's Wings (35 page)

Authors: Zoey Derrick

The elevator finally dinged.

At the same time, Killian’s condo door opened behind me.

I locked a smile on my face, trying to look like I had been patiently waiting for
the elevator the entire time.

“Miss Montgomery?”

Not Killian. I didn’t know whether to curse or laugh.

“Yes?” I managed a Girl Scout-sweet reply.

A kind face was waiting when I turned around. The man wore such a warm expression,
I was tempted to call him Fred.
Not
Alfred. Just Fred. The man was too handsome for a full “Alfred.”

Fred handed me a small ivory envelope, then stepped over into the elevator. He held
the doors open while I got into the car with him. We rode in silence down to the lobby.
I squirmed while Fred smiled as if it were Saturday in the park. Did he know what
his boss had just done with me?

I winced toward the wall. Technically, Killian was
my
boss right now, too.

Mr. Stone. Mr. Stone. Mr. Stone.

He can never be “Killian” again.

The sooner you remember that, the better.

I was dying to open that little envelope, but carefully slipped it into my queen-size
clutch for when I was alone again in the cab on my way back to the hotel.

“I’ll call the car ‘round for you.” Like his employer, Fred made it obvious the subject
wasn’t up for debate, so I forced a smile and followed him across the gleaming lobby
to the building’s front awning. In less than a minute, the black town car with the
Stone Global logo on its doors appeared. I climbed in, all the while yearning for
the anonymity of a city cab instead.

Chicago was a great city, but the traffic was insane, even as evening officially blended
into nighttime. Nevertheless, Killian’s building was swiftly swallowed by the lush
trees of the neighborhood. I was on my way back to the hotel. Back to real life—and
all the dangers that waited if anyone on the team ever learned where I’d just been.

For just a few more seconds, I yearned to remember the fantasy, instead. Perhaps the
treasure in my purse would help.

I pulled it out, running reverent fingers over it again. Nothing was written on the
outside. Killian—Mr. Stone—had simply expected it would be delivered straight to me.

The elegant handwriting inside, dedicated to just one sentence, dried out my throat
upon impact.

I must see you again.

He left no signature. No phone number. Not even an email address. But the strangest
part about it all? I wasn’t surprised. He was Killian Jamison Stone. And he kissed
like
that.
Things—and people—came to him,
not
the other way around.

But did I have the strength to be one of those people, knowing I’d never see him again
after three months?

Chapter One

One Month Earlier – March

Killian

“Have a seat.”

I tried to be diplomatic about it. Trey’s stoned eyes and clammy skin were evidence
enough of how he’d tried to self-medicate the nightmare away last night. But this
mess—
his
mess—wasn’t going away anytime soon. I’d closed the shades, blocking out the panoramic
view of the river and skyline, to force him to see it. All ten monitors on my office
wall blared the headlines from the major news carrier websites.

Stone’s at it Again—Times Two

Throwing Stones? Looks Like He Did

Stones, Sex, and Politics: They Really Do Mix

Senators Daughters? He’ll Take Two, Please—At Once

Oh, Trey! Come and Play the Washington Way!

The titles progressed in creativity from there.

Trey didn’t sit. Instead, while taking a surly trip to the sideboard, he snarled,
“Turn that crap off.”

I parked my ass against my desk and braced my legs. “Not happening.”

“Where the hell’s all your booze?”

“Forget it. Also not happening.”

“All you have here is coffee.”

“Because it’s nine in the morning.” I glanced at the monitors again and clenched my
jaw. A blonde and a brunette this time. One of them was still in her school uniform.
The other had waved hello to eighteen just last week. Yes,
that
was our single ray of hope. At least one of the girls was “legal.”

“I hate coffee.”

“Drink it. You’re going to need it.”

“I’ll gack.”

“Good. It’ll save me the money from having your stomach pumped.”

Trey hurled the coffee mug, thankfully still empty, past my head and into one of the
monitors. “You know what? Fuck you, Killian!”

The hatred he flung from those bright green eyes, now through a tangle of his dark
hair, hadn’t changed since we were kids. Neither had the stake of sorrow it drove
into my gut. But unlike then, I wasn’t willing to share my Legos for a chance at his
love. Because since then, I’d learned it wouldn’t make a difference. How’d the ditty
go?
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
I could work with that.

No Prince Charming

By Angel Payne & Victoria Blue

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After the shocking death of my Master left me stunned, the revenge his ex-wife and
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Tony Delvaggio, the panty-melting sadist and resident shrink of Genesis, took me under
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my thoughts with his deep voice and seduced my body with his rough hands. Before long,
he pried open my heart as well. But when it became clear that someone meant to kill
me, I came to a terrifying conclusion: I would have to put my complete trust and submission
in the Master of my mind or die…

Excerpt
:

The recoil of a whip sent a shiver up my spine. Glancing toward the sound, I instantly
wished that I hadn’t. The powerfully built Dom had his back to me, but it made no
difference. I knew by the decadent muscles and colorful tattoos it was Tony. He stood
behind a sub secured to a spanking bench, gripping a black and red plaited whip in
his wide fist. Shirtless, his black leather pants hugged his tight ass and sturdy
legs. His defined shoulders bunched and flexed beneath his bronzed flesh and his colorful
tattoos rippled. I clenched my hands, itching to feel his tempting hard flesh again.
I licked my lips and remembered the taste of his kiss.

As if sensing my presence, Tony turned. As his gaze locked with mine, I could almost
feel him caress my skin. Feel the same stirring heat his fingers evoked as they plucked
and pinched my nipples. The buds drew tight against my tee and tingled with the memory.

His mouth fluttered with a slight smile as my cheeks grew hot. Severing the connection,
he turned his attention back to the sub bent over the spanking bench. Tony smoothed
one broad hand over her pale skin. Jealousy pricked my heart. Glancing at the long
blonde tresses shrouding the subs face, I knew Destiny—the lucky little bitch—had
finally arranged her session with Tony. As he stepped back, I couldn’t take my eyes
off him… couldn’t force myself to look away even as envy coursed angrily through my
veins.

I stared in fascination as his whip found its mark, time and again. Commanding and
confident, Tony worked the sub. His shoulders widened; his chest expanded. I watched
him drink in her cries of pain as if they were welcome nourishment. Red angry welts
crisscrossed Destiny’s backside. Still, Tony didn’t stop. He landed the single tail’s
popper with succinct and measured lashes. I cringed and searched deep for a sliver
of any untapped longings within that called to his type of extreme play. No matter
how hard I searched my fantasies, I couldn’t find a hint of desire close to the level
he required. And still I stood mesmerized, watching.

The sensual sway of his body, the honed roll of his shoulder, and the quick flick
of his wrist was an art form all its own. His focus, keen on the sub, never wavered.
It was clear to see. His whip was an extension of his heart... his soul. The sadist’s
pleasure was a sharp, wicked blade, and Tony walked the narrow edge with relentless
precision. The intensity of his desire was a formidable mountain. Each lash commanded
the girl to climb higher as he guided her through angry welts and imposing pain—persuading
her ascent to the peak, absorbing her tears and screams, he fed his dominance.

Tony was poetry in motion, his command powerful and unyielding. Compared to Destiny,
my submission was useless…weak. My heart grew heavy realizing that if given a chance
to submit to Tony, I had nothing substantial to offer. I would simply slide through
his sturdy fingers like sand.

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