Into the Pride (Nuuba Pride Shifters #1) by Michelle Monkou Read Free

temporary.
    He headed to the kitchen sink and rinsed off his arm. One more wound to add to the numerous list.
    A scent captured his attention. Anise, cloves, cinnamon .
    Someone knocked at his front door.
    “Um … excuse me. I’m looking for Mr. David Chastain.” A woman of average-to-tall height with straight, raven black hair, serious eyes, and dressed in the most dowdy pantsuit he’d ever seen hovered at his doorway.
    David considered grabbing a frying pan in case she had a dagger to plunge into his arm. Though his radar didn’t ping. Her demeanor didn’t threaten. It had been a long night that taxed every part of him, including his patience. With crossed arms, legs parted, and feet firmly planted—he tiredly readied for Round Two.
    “Come in.”
    Her gaze flew down to his cock. “Oh, my.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “Please, are you Mr. Chastain?”
    “I’m David. In the flesh.” Her embarrassment was quaint after dealing with the likes of London. “What do you want?”
    “For you to get dressed, please.” Her hands, used as a shield, hadn’t lowered.
    “And then?” He backed into the bedroom for his pants. No more turning his back on females.
    “I need your help. A matter of life and death.” She inched her way forward following him. “We really don’t have much time.” She slowly lowered her hands from her eyes and waited for his response.
     

Chapter Two
     
    David studied the dark-haired beauty with the warm caramel complexion. Not since his life as a guard had he been sought for matters of life and death. Those days were long gone. As an archeologist and historical archivist, how could he possibly be important for a human’s mission?
    Other than triggering his memory with the familiar waft of spices, everything else about her held no connection. Now that pants covered his nakedness, she met his open assessment with equal directness.
    He regarded her with curiosity. From her, what he read in her analysis was doubt. The very idea that she perceived him as not up to par needled at his ego.
    Modesty wasn’t his vice. A few dings here and there, but overall he had the sleek, powerful design that nature intended, his cock included. At six-five, two hundred ten pounds, body fat at three percent, he was chiseled like a masterpiece. The perfect recruit for a royal bodyguard. And apparently the perfect recruit for a damsel in distress. Although the disdainful curl of her lips tempered his brag.
    “It’s after midnight. I don’t tend to get calls for help in the middle of the night.” He paused. “From spicy … sweet … women who smell heavenly.”
    From disdain to amusement, could it be that he’d managed to break through the icy exterior? A smile flittered on, then disappeared. Light from the nearby floor lamp cast a softened glow across her face, shimmering against her eyes. Hazel with hints of amber. Exotic .
    He grabbed a shirt and slid it on.
    “That’s a strange tattoo.” She stepped closer. Her hand paused in midair, where his shirt hung open, as if waiting for permission.
    He flinched, but stayed his ground. A touch was like a kiss—he wanted to make the first move. And his tat was definitely off limits. Permission wasn’t granted. Instead, his fingers quickly fastened the buttons.
    “Sorry.” She dropped her hand. Embarrassment flooded her face. “Didn’t mean to…” She blew out a breath and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets.
    Maybe one day, he’d let her stroke those long, delicate fingers against his skin. There was interest on his side. Solid good looks, in spite of a body effectively hidden under unflattering clothes. Personality—not the shy type, but still under assessment.
    From her perspective, he was sure that she had more than a smidgen of sexual interest in him. When it came to sex and carnal pleasures, he recognized awe. Rise in pulse. Flush to the skin. Restlessness from the moist desire stirring between the legs. Breasts thrust forward.