Chapter One
Auralia
One Year Later
Auralia stood in the bed and breakfast’s Victorian-styled bathroom, heavy on the shelf-tchotchkes and made dim by the flocked velvet wallpaper in bordello maroon and limited lighting.
She pressed a final hairpin into her bun, muttering possible interview questions into the mirror so her lips and tongue could coordinate under stress.
Morrison was going to be back on the stage in the dell.
Released on bail to mount his case, judgment day inching closer, Auralia was itching to hear how he’d spin things today. She’d been on top of this case from her research to the reveal, through the grand jury, to the indictment and the choice of hearing dates.
Up until now, Morrison had squirreled himself away. And this was the first time that he was going to publicly stand in the sun and face the public. Possibly to put out some spin that helped win him public approval, and perhaps sympathy, before they started to seat the jury.
Surely, he had some shit to sell.
Was anyone going to buy it?
“Auralia, when you can, we need to talk.” Creed’s voice was warm and gruff and mmm just the right kind of masculine.
It was a come-hither rumbled with morning grogginess.
Typically, on days when he had work, he sprang from the bed like a jackrabbit leaping away from a fox’s mouth.
But on Sundays, he was slow and luxuriant.
It was the kind of work-life balance that Auralia could enjoy.
This morning, he wasn’t calling her to his arms so he could wrap her tight and ask about all the things.
He wouldn’t be encouraging her to share her stresses, and he wouldn’t be rejoicing with her about her successes, both big and small.
No gossip from home. No news from friends. No plans for the day.
Because, despite the tone in his voice, they’d both be working—her as a reporter along with Doli, him as a K9 handler and operator for Iniquus’s Cerberus K9 Tactical Team Charlie. He’d be working alongside Gator and his team, Strike Force.
And how did she know Gator would be there? Certainly not because Creed talked to her about anything mission-oriented. No, it was because, very strangely, Gator had sent over two bullet-resistant vests last night, one for her and one for Doli.
Auralia stepped into her black lace panties.
Auralia had already worked through the whole conversation in her head.
This morning, Creed would surely want to review a safety plan with her and remind her that he was on the clock for work.
If things turned really bad, he’d drop everything to get to her side.
Then she’d protest that she didn’t need him to be her knight in shining armor and remind him that her job was to go into the turbulent parts of the world to report.
He would say something about how proud he was of the work she felt chosen to do, but still be careful with his heart.
He’d look deeply and sincerely into her eyes as he accepted her promise that she wouldn’t take unnecessary chances.
It was a dell in rural Virginia, for goodness' sake. She didn’t have any new truth bombs; what could possibly go wrong?
And if something were to go sideways, there might even be some Marines around.
Auralia picked up the matching bra, with the tiny pink ribbon that would rest between her breasts, and leaned over to pull all of the straps and bands into place. She adjusted her breasts into the cups, then came upright.
Tease?
Sure, well, she would need Creed to be a bit distracted because the next subject he’d want to tackle was that today was the day.
Today.
She had been low-key stressing about this since Gator’s wedding, when there was a seismic shift, and she saw Creed anew.
Creed was a constant in Auralia’s life. While Creed was too young at the time to remember when Auralia was born, he had been Gator’s first friend and constant companion, so he’d been around when she’d made her debut.
Creed and Gator had signed up for the Marines together, had gone to boot camp together, decided to become Marine Raiders together, and had each other’s backs through the horrible wars.
Gator had decided to leave and take a gig with Iniquus, while Creed had stayed in the service up until a few months ago, when Cerberus Tactical mounted a new K9 team, Team Charlie.
It was a coveted position there—they were few and far between, and applicants had to have at least one Iniquus operator vouch for them as a whole package, from capability to ethics.
Gator and Deep, Creed’s fellow Marine Raiders, had put his name forward.
And after Iniquus had rigorously vetted him, Creed was offered a place.
Career-wise, it was a good move for Creed. And had made Auralia's relationship with him easier now that he lived in Northern Virginia, where Auralia had her home base.
They had been a secret them for a while now.
Yup, it was a dance at the Gator and D-Day’s wedding that turned into a moonlit kiss that changed everything.
A year and a half wasn’t a long time for a couple that had just met, but Auralia had always known Creed. And there was never a time when she hadn’t loved him.
It was just the kind of love they felt for each other that had undergone a seismic shift.
A private. Quiet. Not to be shared seismic shift.
Until today.
Auralia took a deep breath and blew out a puff of air.
She might as well go in and get it over with.
They both knew that their time in the cocoon had come to an end.
Auralia rounded out of the bathroom into the slightly over-stuffed Victorian-themed suite.
Rou, Creed’s black lab, scampered over and dropped her bottom down, her little pink tongue stuck out in anticipation, and her tail swished over the hardwood floor with a pretty-please tilt of her head.
“I know, Rourou, it’s time for your run.”
“She’s okay for the time being,” Creed called from the canopy bed.
At that moment, Creed looked ridiculously like the cover of a historical romance novel. With his hands laced behind his head and his toned chest muscles on full display, the sheets draped around his hips, his goody trail pointing its way to the treasure below.
The delicate femininity of rose-covered fabrics pieced together into a wedding-knot quilt juxtaposed with Creed’s lascivious grin and the crook of his finger; yes, Auralia could see doing a little role-playing in a setting like this. The Duke of New Orleans ravishing the ingénue might be fun.
His grin widened. “Whatever it was you were just thinking about, the answer is yes.”
“What if I were to tell you that you reminded me of the story of Little Red Riding Hood?”
He quirked a brow.
“The quilt across your lap, the lace canopy overhead. The wolfish grin.”
“And in this case, you would be coming with your goodies to see me?”
Auralia struck a sexy pose.
“Come here, Little Red Riding Hood,” He leaned forward and snatched her wrist, “so I can eat you.”
Auralia laughed as she let him gently tug her onto the bed. She crawled forward and knelt across his lap.
For them, it was feast and famine. Not by design, just the way things shook out.
Sadly, this last visit was coming to an end; she had to book her flight to Ukraine before she got her fill. Was it possible to get her fill? Probably not.
With a hand resting on his pec, Auralia bent for a kiss, “I like it when I’m dessert.”
Creed chuckled as he dropped his hands to her hips, curling them into her flesh as he dragged her forward, tucking her against him so his hard-on was in the perfect place.
“We need to talk,” Auralia said as her blood thrummed.
“Listening.” Creed leaned forward and traced soft kisses up her clavicle until Auralia pushed him back.
“Seriously. Talk.”
Creed sat up, and the heat in his eyes cooled. “End of the line?”
“You’re heading out with Strike Force today. You’ll be there, working. I’ll be there, working.”
Rou, not to be left out of the plans, dashed over to the bed and jumped up to be with them.
“Rourou’s going to be there.”
Creed’s gaze searched around the room with a bemused smile, tweaking the corners of his mouth.
Victorian wasn’t their style. With few choices, she took what was available. And that shouldn’t be meaningful, but somehow it was. She wanted to be completely authentic in this conversation, and yet, it felt like a movie scene, like play-acting.
This was just too darned important for anything but candor.
“Gator is Bayou blessed. Part of me thinks he already knows about us. But when we’re in the same general space, his sixth sense is going to light up like the fireflies at dusk. If we don’t tell him first—well, it’s just a complexity that I don’t want in my life.”
“We agreed,” Creed said.
“Look, if I had my druthers of falling in love with a stranger or my brother’s childhood bestie, I’d take the stranger every time.
You know this. You also know I’ve always enjoyed being around you.
I have always thought you were a good person.
And you have never let me down. And that was all good enough.
If only you hadn’t asked me for that dance at Gator’s wedding.
I’m blaming you for this turn of events and all the complications that come with it. ”
“Best thing I’ve ever done. Are you regretting not telling everyone about us from the start?”
“Now, how would that have gone down? Gator, I’m screwing around with Creed.”
“Is that what you were doing?”
Auralia didn’t answer. He knew better than that. This discussion had been the merry-go-round she’d been on since Gator and D-Day’s wedding.
Creed traced a circle on her thigh. “I told you what I want.”