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Roman’s Gold
By
Ann Gimpel
Publisher:
Liquid Silver Books
ISBN:
978-1-62210-005-7
Release
Date: 6/10/13
50,000
words
The
line between hunter and hunted thins, blurs, and finally disappears.
Genre:
Paranormal Romance
Devon’s been a cop for a long
time. He has shifter blood, but not enough to change into anything; at least
not until the police department insists on a series of infusions to make him
better at tracking shifters so they can be imprisoned—or killed.
Devon’s latest assignment is Kate.
From the moment he sees her, he can’t get her out of his mind. The line between
hunter and hunted thins, blurs, and finally disappears. Kate and Devon defy the
odds. Will their passion save them or doom them forever?
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
Kate Roman sauntered down Telegraph
Avenue, the sounds of the constant Berkeley traffic loud in her ears. The city
had banned hovercraft when air quality got so bad people needed masks to
venture outside. The air still made the back of her throat burn, but at least
her eyes didn’t tear up.
She pushed her dark glasses up her nose
and wrapped a colorful scarf more tightly around her hair. Someone was
following her. She’d caught a whiff of something … unusual … with her feline
senses half a dozen blocks back. Her perceptions weren’t as sharp in her human
form, but they gave her a definite edge. Who was back there? Try as she might,
she couldn’t identify its scent. She didn’t want to stop and turn around. So
long as her pursuer thought himself invisible, he—or she, or it—wouldn’t do
anything rash. She hoped.
Her heart beat a little faster. No
cause for alarm. Not yet, anyway. She worked as a sex surrogate, and there had
been hundreds of clients over the past several years. Her hair was unmistakable
with its bright red tone and warm, golden streaks. Clients sometimes trailed
after her. Too shy to approach directly, yet drawn to her because of the
best—sometimes the only—sex they’d had in their lives, they just liked to be
close. Even though they had no idea she was a shifter—that played into the
equation too. Humans were attracted to her animal energy.
Shy clients were one thing. The other
options were scarier. Humans had made a big push to get rid of shifters.
Because killing them outright would have engendered a great hue and cry from
personal rights groups, they’d been imprisoned in droves. Conditions were
deplorable; many of her kin had died. Others were so ill, they might as well be
dead. Apparently the personal rights groups weren’t into visiting prisons to
check on things. Disgust twisted Kate’s features into an annoyed scowl.
Appalled by what was looking a lot like
the beginnings of genocide, she’d joined the shifter underground, a group
masterminding escapes for those like her. Of course, the escapes were only the first
step. Once out, shifters almost always needed medical care. They had to be
hidden until their magic was strong enough for them to shield themselves. Many
opted for dramatic plastic surgery to obliterate any trace of who they’d been
when captured.
Kate blew out a tense breath. She had
three post-surgical shifters concealed in the basement of her home in the
Berkeley Hills. A wolf, a mountain lion—like her—and a bear were sequestered
behind a hidden wall panel. She hadn’t expected them to stay quite so long and
her pantry was almost bare. She glanced at her wrist computer and clicked a few
keys. Ration Coupons flashed on the
screen, followed by the numerals one and zero. Shit. If it were only her, ten
coupons wouldn’t buy much more than a day’s worth of food. She needed to put in
an emergency call to the underground once she got to her office and no one
could hear her. They had code words for everything, but still…
Kate tilted her head back. Her nose
twitched. Whoever was behind her was closer. Not much, but a little. Should I turn around? She glanced at the
cross street. Another half block and she’d be at her office. Someone jostled
her shoulder. She pulled back, wary of a trap. Kate strengthened the illusion
which softened her lengthened incisors and muted the sharp angle of her
cheekbones and jaw.
“Sorry,” a man muttered and pushed past
her.
She stared after him and reached out
with a dribble of shifter magic. Whew!
She exhaled sharply. Just a human. Definitely not who’d been following her.
Garden-variety cops had genetically-altered enhanced abilities. They smelled
different. Trackers, elite police squads targeting shifters, had their own
unique scent. She pressed her tongue against her teeth, thinking. What she
smelled behind her was … different. Did that mean it wasn’t a cop—or a Tracker?
Not necessarily. He could be using one of
their tricks to mask his spoor. Her throat tightened. She tried to swallow,
but her mouth was dry.
Enough
excitement for one morning.
Kate lengthened her stride, loped across the street, taking advantage of an
amber light, and took the steps to her office in a renovated Victorian two at a
time. She ran her palm over the keypad. The electronics hummed and the door
clicked open. She ducked inside, shut the door, and reset the lock.
Annoyance tinged with fear made her
stomach roil. Against her better judgment, she turned and peered through a
frosted glass side panel next to the thick, carved oak door. Eyes narrowed, she
used her feline vision to take a good, hard look at who was walking down the
sidewalk. After a couple minutes of nothing, she chided herself for being
paranoid.
Kate was about to turn away and get
ready for her first client when a man caught her attention. Boy, did he catch
her attention. He was tall, maybe six-foot four, with broad shoulders and
slender hips. He wore form-fitting jeans, a snug knitted dark blue top, and a
brown leather vest. Well-muscled arms and thighs jumped out at her. Kate’s eyes
went to his crotch. Wow. If he looked
like that soft, he’d have a hell of an erection. Waist-length black hair
swirled around him. Dark eyes, set in Native American bone structure, looked
right at her building. It was as if he sensed her looking at him.
What was he? Unfortunately, she
couldn’t identify much. Wood and glass absorbed most of her magic. Kate moved
away from the window. Heat poured through her. Her nipples pebbled into hard
points. Whoever was out there was the most sexually-charged man she’d ever come
across. Was he the one who’d been following her?
She snorted. Part of her hoped he’d
been tracking her—she itched to jump his bones. In spite of being turned-on,
she felt edgy. He could be a member of the elite Tracker hit squads targeting
shifters. Her underground organization had received intel the enemy was using
more sophisticated strategies to trap them. If
they start using sex, we’re done for. Her lips curled into a wry grin.
Shifters loved sex. It was a weakness from their animal sides.
“No,
it’s a strength,” the
mountain cat which lived inside her commented snidely.
“Hold
on, sweetie. You’ll get your fix soon enough.”
“I
don’t want human sex,”
her cat complained. “Find a shifter for
us.”
“Enough
of this. I have to get ready for my first client.”
Her cat grumbled. Kate smiled
indulgently. She’d dreamed her bond animal like all shifters did when they hit
puberty. The animal had picked her, but she’d sealed the deal by accepting it.
The cat was a part of her, but its own entity as well. That included having
opinions which sometimes diverged from hers.
She consulted her wrist computer. Not
much time to spare. Kate walked through her spacious office. Furnished with
late nineteenth century antiques to match the building’s architecture, it was a
homey place with overstuffed floral couches and chairs and golden oak tables. A
small computer desk allowed clients to enter their own personal data—or as much
of it as they were comfortable divulging. Unlike the world’s oldest profession,
men actually needed a doctor’s referral to see her. Kate liked it that way.
She’d never had problems with any of her clients. The doctors screened them for
diseases before sending them, which was another plus, though not exactly
necessary. Virtually all the men who came through her door were virgins.
A lush bedroom with a four-poster bed
and an inventive assortment of toys was behind the front office. Off to one
side was a marble inlaid bathroom with a sunken tub with Jacuzzi jets. Mirrors
lined the walls; the gleaming gold fixtures and green-veined marble glowed
invitingly. Water was good for loosening up nervous clients. Her first task was
getting them used to being naked.
She ducked into her private quarters—a
small room off the bedroom—dropped her bag in a corner, and stripped off her
street clothes and shoes. Pants were a no-no in her business. She needed skirts
in case a client got hard and she needed to move fast. Most of the men who
visited her had erectile issues. Either they came too fast, or they couldn’t
get erections at all.
She pulled a teal jersey top out of a
drawer and tugged it over her head. The soft folds of the fabric molded to her
body. No bra. Looking at the curves of her breasts was good for clients. She
traced the outline of a nipple through the silky fabric. It stiffened
instantly. A vision of the man in the street slammed against her. Her nether
regions flooded. Kate grinned. She felt sorry for her first client. She’d
probably attack him before he even got his clothes off.
She stepped into a black skirt with an
elastic waist and grabbed a hairbrush. Red-gold curls cascaded nearly to her
waist. A smattering of shiny lip gloss and she walked into the bathroom to
check her appearance. Perfect. She looked about twenty-five. Good for when she
needed to play the innocent in seduction charades. She blew a kiss at the
glass. Not bad for a three-hundred-year-old shifter. Three hundred six, her inner voice corrected. Kate laughed. She
wasn’t exactly immortal, but she’d live for hundreds more years before her face
betrayed any sign of age.
The front bell chimed. Hector was right
on time. Bare feet pattering over the thick, Oriental carpet in her front
office, Kate strode to the door and peered through the safety viewer. She
rolled her eyes. He’d brought her flowers. She waved her palm over the
electronically controlled lock; the latch clicked.
“Hi, gorgeous.” Hector stepped inside
and waited for her to lock up before handing her a bouquet of expensive-looking
hothouse blossoms. She laid them on a side table. They’d keep for an hour out
of water.
“Hi there yourself, handsome.” Kate
smiled at him. She liked Hector. At forty-five, he’d decided it was time to
find a wife. Problem was, he’d spent his entire life locked away behind a
computer screen and had no idea how to even say good morning to a woman, let
alone ask for a date. All his sexual experiences had been with his hand until
he’d tried to hire a hooker and failed miserably. He’d come while she was
unzipping his pants and hadn’t been able to get hard again.
He shook light brown hair back from a
high brow. His hazel eyes shone with pleasure. He wasn’t bad looking, but he
needed to get outside. His skin was pasty white and his body soft. She’d
suggested he join a gym and walk at least half an hour out-of-doors every day.
She wondered if he’d taken her up on either suggestion.
His hand snaked out and curved around
one of her breasts. She glanced between his legs, pleased to see the swell of
an erection. Good. He wouldn’t make her work very hard today. Kate cocked her
head to one side and pressed her breast into his hand. “Business first. That
will be five hundred credits.”
His eyes widened. “You’re giving me a
break today.”
“Not really.” Her hand cupped his
hard-on. “Looks like you won’t need much from me.”
Color stained his fair cheeks. “Funny
thing. It got hard when I was on the bus. Just thinking about you…” His voice
trailed off.
“That’s the way it’s supposed to work.
Pay up, so we can get those clothes off you.”
He went to the computer, bent over,
brought up his account, and transferred money into hers. The printer whirred.
She grabbed the piece of paper, tore off one end, signed it, and handed it to
him.
He came around behind her. His hands
closed over her breasts and he nibbled her neck. She leaned against him for a
moment, then led him to the bedroom and closed the door. One of the best things
about being a surrogate was she trained her clients to do exactly what she
liked, while cautioning them that part of lovemaking was communication. What
she liked might not work for a different woman.
She turned toward him. His shirt and
sports coat lay on a chair and he’d stepped out of leather loafers. His fingers
were busy with the fastenings of his slacks.
“Pretty good progress,” she said,
flashing him a warm smile. “First time you came here, it took me most of the
session to get your shirt off.”
He shrugged. His pants pooled around
his ankles. He stepped out of them and shoved his boxers down his hips. Kate
felt her eyes widen. He was more than ready. Not just hard, but a drop of semen
glistened in the center of his glans. “Do you want to undress me?” she asked.
He closed the distance between them,
put his arms around her and kissed her. She kissed him back, aware of her own
arousal. Hector didn’t have much to do with that. But he’d give her something
to think about other than the wonderfully seductive stranger she’d seen through
her window. She pressed her breasts against him and thrust her hips against his
hard-on.
Hector broke their kiss. He slid his
fingers under her top and tugged it gently over her head. His gaze locked on
her breasts before he took them in his hands. He twirled her nipples just the
way she’d shown him. He’d been surprised when she told him women could come
just from that.
She curved a hand around his erection.
It bucked in her hand. He hadn’t had problems with premature ejaculation the
last few visits, but he seemed more excited today. “Do you need to be inside
me?”
His breath came fast. “Could I? All
I’ve thought about is—” His cock jumped in her hand again. Fluid leaked from
it. She rubbed it around the velvety top with a gentle fingertip.
Kate backed toward the bed. “How do you
want me?”
His gaze sought hers. “Could you be on
top? I’ve done like you said, you know, playing with myself and fantasizing.”
“Sure.” She waited for him to lie down.
Kate got a condom out of the night table drawer, opened the wrapper, and rolled
it onto him. She straddled him and lowered herself onto his shaft. He groaned.
She took care to keep her hips still. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Open
your eyes. Look at me. Think about breathing. You can control this.”
The line of his jaw clenched, and then
softened. He cupped her pussy in an outstretched hand. Tentative at first, he
rubbed her clit when she pushed into his hand. Her muscles closed around his
cock. He rubbed harder. She laid a hand over his to show him the rhythm she
needed.
“Is it okay if I make you come this
way?”
“More than okay.” With her fingers atop
his to guide him, he rubbed harder and faster over her sensitive tissue. She
knew she was moving around his erection, but hoped he had enough to think about
besides coming that he’d be able to control himself. “I’m going to take my hand
away. Now you do the same thing.”
“Like this.”
“Um-hum.” She felt a familiar
tightness, tried to hold back so she could savor things, but it was too late.
She came, shoving her pussy against his hand. A vision of the gorgeous man
she’d seen in the street danced behind her closed lids. Deep in her mind, the
cat purred, “Yesssss. Find that one for
us.” Kate shushed it.
Hector had learned well. He kept moving
his fingers until her hips quieted. “Wow. That was amazing,” he crowed. “I got
to watch you come. Your nipples got hard and you’re all rosy.”
“And you didn’t come yourself. Even
better.” She laughed. “Is it okay if I move now?”
“Will I be able to make you come
again?” She heard a hint of masculine pride in the question.
“No question.”
He held out his arms. “I want to feel
your breasts against me.”
She lowered her torso until it touched
his. “Very good. Asking for what you want is important. Women aren’t mind
readers. Put your hands on my hips. Move me the way you want to be fucked.”
“What about you?”
“I had a turn. Besides, you can always
touch me or lick me.”
“You haven’t taught me about licking.”
His voice had a catch in it.
“Well, if we don’t get there today,
there’s always next time.”
His hands gripped her hips. She let him
control the movement, pleased it took him several minutes to come. Once his
cock was through spasming inside her, she moved off his body and went to get a
warm, wet cloth from the bathroom. By the time she returned, he had the condom
off. She held out her hand. “I’ll take it. Here.” She handed him the cloth,
dropped the condom into a waste can, and slid into a robe.
A disappointed look washed across his
face. “Is our time up?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How many more visits do I have?”
“Not sure. Just a minute, I’ll look.”
Kate padded into the outer office and clicked a few keys on the desktop
computer. She was also buying a little time. Clients frequently got too
attached, which was why she never told them up front how many visits had been
authorized. Sometimes, even if they had several more sessions, she’d hedge,
call their MD, and cut them off.
The truth was, Hector didn’t really
need her anymore. Seven visits had cured both his impotence and his problems
with premature ejaculation.
“Good thing you asked.” She breezed
back into the bedroom, smiling brightly. “We’ve run through your sessions.” He
looked so crestfallen, she went to the bed, sat on the edge, and took his hands
in hers. “Hector. You got what you needed here. You can make love with anyone
now. You don’t need me anymore.”
“But I thought—I mean, I hoped…” Color
crept up his chest to his neck and face.
“Aw, honey. Everyone falls in love with
me. It’s natural. I’m the first woman you had sex with.” She patted his hand.
“I guarantee you I won’t be the last. Try asking that cute brunette you told me
about out for coffee.”
“Can I come back if I get into
problems?”
“Sure. I’ll square it with your
doctor.”
“Really?” He smiled. Hector was decidedly
handsome when he did that.
“Really.” She touched a finger to his
chin. “You’re quite the hunk when you smile. Try to remember to do it more
often.”
He dressed quickly and she ushered him
out the door. “Thanks for the flowers. And best of luck, not that you’ll need
any. You’ll make some woman very happy.”
She closed the door, locked it, and
looked at the time. She needed to call the underground about groceries, change
the bed, and take a shower. It would be tight, but she was pretty sure she
could work everything in before Todd showed up in half an hour.
Kate glanced at the calendar in her
wrist computer. Good. Only the two clients today. Worries about her three
houseguests ate at her. It was better when she was home. The shifters in her
basement were vulnerable by themselves
About the Author
Short Bio:
Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist, with a Jungian
bent. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness
photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the
unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her
short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Several
paranormal romance novellas are available in e-format. Three novels, Psyche’s
Prophecy, Psyche’s Search, and Psyche's Promise are small press
publications available in e-format and paperback. Look for two more urban
fantasy novels coming this summer and fall: Fortune’s
Scion and Earth’s Requiem.
A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids
round out her family.
@AnnGimpel (for Twitter)
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