The Valkyrie's Guardian Read Online Free Page A
wooden Utah-shaped sign announced he had left Arizona. Jack glanced in the rearview mirror and bid farewell to his weekend at the lake â towering sandstone hills painted crimson in the sunset offset by the stark cerulean of the water. The duo-chromatic desert landscape was a boon for his eyes; he saw only primary colors and gradations of light.
Stuck on the sparse desert highway, seven hours to go, with oblivious Cassie hammering away at his self-control. No place to put his right arm but to drape it along her side. His fingers toyed with a tattered belt loop on her cutoff shorts. Without permission his fingers traveled to graze the soft skin of her thigh as his arm rested along her flank. The contact made her body temperature rise to match his, and the spicy perfume of pheromones clouded the air from the glands inside her thighs near her groin â¦
Still sound asleep.
Jack cursed and gripped the steering wheel. He counted the yellow lines on the road. He shouldnât have kissed her today, a foolish impulse, because now he knew what she tasted like, and he wanted more. Kyros trusted him with Cassie, one of only two known extra-sentient females in existence.
The adorable little tyrant had stolen his heart fifteen years ago, but he quit feeling like a big brother when her looks changed from coltish to woman . Heâd quit wrestling her on the floor and carrying her on his shoulders, for one thing. Now she had the looks of a goddess and a medical degree, and he was still Jack the berserker â a mouth-breathing gorilla, in her estimation. She considered herself slumming, here with him.
At age twenty-one she wasnât jailbait anymore, but he did have seventeen years on her. Of course, Kyros was almost three centuries older than his wife. They both looked no more than twenty-five. No doubt Jack was also an immortal extra-sentient, frozen in his twenty-something body. Too early to tell for Cassie. He would take her either way. But she didnât seem to want him in the first place, so it didnât matter.
Not to mention the issue of her being the ninth-great-granddaughter of the bloody freaking most powerful extra-sentient in the world, Kyros Vassalos. The three-centuries-old Greek warrior-slash-physicist was the founder of the Network, essentially a sanctuary for superheroes â or freaks. X-Men for nerds, without the vinyl uniforms.
Kyros could alter electromagnetism, but he played second fiddle to his wife Lyssa, whose powers were colossal but unstable . Sheâd killed the thousand-year-old supervillain, Merodach, by stealing Kyrosâ incendiary power and detonating amolecular electromagnetic anti-matter bomb operated solely by her mind. Word had it, all that remained of the evil extra-sentient was a film of pink goo ⦠which is why Jack would be downright stupid to mess with Cassie when she had the King and Queen of Freaky Magic as guard dogs.
Yet all Jack could think about was Cassie, a tribute to the male fantasy, lounging in what she didnât know looked like a post-coital pose. That white retro one-piece swimsuit she wore was supposedly in protest of ⦠whatever. It didnât work if she meant to be less provocative. It turned translucent when wet, for starters. The memory of her bending over to find his ski vest danced in his vision, replaying over and over in slow motion. She was like a naughty fifties pinup girl.
And he had a thing for those long, looong legs. Oh yes, Jack was a leg-man. He dared a glance â one leg stretched and the other propped on the leather upholstery, a liberty he would allow no one else in his truck. And since she was five foot ten, he had a long way to look. Up and down ⦠Slender, shapely, toned. Perfection.
Jack shook his head, trying to clear the anise-honey-almond-scented haze from his head. Sheâd been eating black licorice again, and the honey almond scent came from her hair. He rolled down the window for fresh air before he
Stuck on the sparse desert highway, seven hours to go, with oblivious Cassie hammering away at his self-control. No place to put his right arm but to drape it along her side. His fingers toyed with a tattered belt loop on her cutoff shorts. Without permission his fingers traveled to graze the soft skin of her thigh as his arm rested along her flank. The contact made her body temperature rise to match his, and the spicy perfume of pheromones clouded the air from the glands inside her thighs near her groin â¦
Still sound asleep.
Jack cursed and gripped the steering wheel. He counted the yellow lines on the road. He shouldnât have kissed her today, a foolish impulse, because now he knew what she tasted like, and he wanted more. Kyros trusted him with Cassie, one of only two known extra-sentient females in existence.
The adorable little tyrant had stolen his heart fifteen years ago, but he quit feeling like a big brother when her looks changed from coltish to woman . Heâd quit wrestling her on the floor and carrying her on his shoulders, for one thing. Now she had the looks of a goddess and a medical degree, and he was still Jack the berserker â a mouth-breathing gorilla, in her estimation. She considered herself slumming, here with him.
At age twenty-one she wasnât jailbait anymore, but he did have seventeen years on her. Of course, Kyros was almost three centuries older than his wife. They both looked no more than twenty-five. No doubt Jack was also an immortal extra-sentient, frozen in his twenty-something body. Too early to tell for Cassie. He would take her either way. But she didnât seem to want him in the first place, so it didnât matter.
Not to mention the issue of her being the ninth-great-granddaughter of the bloody freaking most powerful extra-sentient in the world, Kyros Vassalos. The three-centuries-old Greek warrior-slash-physicist was the founder of the Network, essentially a sanctuary for superheroes â or freaks. X-Men for nerds, without the vinyl uniforms.
Kyros could alter electromagnetism, but he played second fiddle to his wife Lyssa, whose powers were colossal but unstable . Sheâd killed the thousand-year-old supervillain, Merodach, by stealing Kyrosâ incendiary power and detonating amolecular electromagnetic anti-matter bomb operated solely by her mind. Word had it, all that remained of the evil extra-sentient was a film of pink goo ⦠which is why Jack would be downright stupid to mess with Cassie when she had the King and Queen of Freaky Magic as guard dogs.
Yet all Jack could think about was Cassie, a tribute to the male fantasy, lounging in what she didnât know looked like a post-coital pose. That white retro one-piece swimsuit she wore was supposedly in protest of ⦠whatever. It didnât work if she meant to be less provocative. It turned translucent when wet, for starters. The memory of her bending over to find his ski vest danced in his vision, replaying over and over in slow motion. She was like a naughty fifties pinup girl.
And he had a thing for those long, looong legs. Oh yes, Jack was a leg-man. He dared a glance â one leg stretched and the other propped on the leather upholstery, a liberty he would allow no one else in his truck. And since she was five foot ten, he had a long way to look. Up and down ⦠Slender, shapely, toned. Perfection.
Jack shook his head, trying to clear the anise-honey-almond-scented haze from his head. Sheâd been eating black licorice again, and the honey almond scent came from her hair. He rolled down the window for fresh air before he
Readers choose
Megan Linski
Lin Anderson
Allan Leverone
Margaret Weis
James McCourt
Sam Crescent
Ted Dekker
Suzanne Woods Fisher
Michael Kuhar