Page 8 of Brutal Mercy

And I was correct in my initial assessment at the gate. She is tall for a woman. Still not as tall as me, but then I’m six-five. And her body is all woman. Lush curves with legs for days. And I instantly think about them wrapped around my waist while I plow her cunt. The top-sloping curves of her ample breasts are exposed. My mouth waters at the thought of sucking those big titties. And the idea of them bouncing and jiggling while I fuck her has me shifting in my seat to calm my semi.

And it hits me the longer I stare.

She’s young, sure. Younger than I normally go for when searching for a bed partner.

But I can’t deny I want to fuck her. Not after the way she stared at me like I’m her savior. I’ve had women look at me with lust or with calculating hearts, thinking they can convince me to tie myself to them with a good, hard rumble between the sheets. But I’ve never had a woman look at me the way she did today. And it’s totally messing with my head.

Why would she look at me that way? What happened to her that made her think she could trust me?

My mind whirls, plagued with questions I can’t answer until she awakens.

But I like the way she looks in my bed. It’s the one bed I’ve never shared with anyone. My fingers itch to peel away her clothes and discover what’s underneath. Although the logo on her black top jogs my memory some. And I search for information on my phone while I wait.

Well, would you look at that? The Rocky Mountain Depot has a website and everything. I click on the About Us page. And there she is, smiling at the camera, looking fresh and dewy as a spring morning. But the smile doesn’t reach her large hazel eyes. Beneath the picture is her name, stating that she’s the store owner. She’s young to be in business for herself.

Luna Abbott.

Well, hello, Luna. Fitting name for such a beauty. My resistance to the desire for her drains away. I don’t think she was a plant. Which means she’s fair game. Game that waltzed straight into my arms, like a lamb walking unsuspecting into a wolf’s den.

I want her.

And I never deny myself the things I want. I take them by whatever means necessary.

I will have her.

Chapter three

Luna

Iwhimperatthepain. Hands are touching my injured ankle, poking and prodding it with gentle fingers.

“Stop.” I gasp at the agony shooting up my leg and bolt upright. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as panic engulfs me. I glance around a bedroom with dark gray walls that I don’t recognize, nor do I remember how I arrived here. Three strange men surround the lake of a bed I’m in. They don’t seem like they want to hurt me, but I can’t stop the shiver of unease that whips through me. “Where am I?”

“You’re safe,” a deep, cultured baritone says on my left. I swivel my pounding head toward the voice and suck in a sharp breath.

It’s him!

The man with the ice-blue eyes who saved me. Danger emanates from his confident stance. But I don’t fear him like I did Diego.

“Thank you.” My throat is raw and raspy, parched from my run through the wilderness.

“Here. Drink this.” He hands me a chilled bottle of water, and our fingers brush.

It’s a light graze of flesh. But I feel his touch down to my bones, like I’ve been struck by lightning.

My hand trembles as I lift the uncapped bottle to my lips. I feel their eyes on me, and it’s unnerving after the day I’ve had. After the first swallow of refreshingly cool water, I realize how thirsty I am and gulp it down.

Until my savior places his hand over mine. “Slowly. Or it will make you sick.”

He’s right. Already my belly is full, and if I push it, I’ll toss it all right back up. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done.”

“You’re welcome, Luna.”

At his familiarity with my name, my stomach clenches. “How do you know my name? And where am I?”

“You’re in my home. I’m Hades. And over there is my brother Ares.” He chin nods toward a man on the opposite side of the bed with similar features to his own, although his buzzed hair is pitch black, and his eyes are a much darker blue. “And the one checking your ankle out is Dr. Moreno.”

Dr. Moreno looks upward of fifty-something, with a head full of gray hair and a friendly smile. And his body isn’t nearly as fit as the other two in his scrubs and white lab coat.

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