Dirty Knight: Shapeshifter Obsession

By Q. Zayne

Dad's rich, hot best friend offers me the best possible gap year adventure, the artist position on his excavation in the Yucatan. We've never been alone much, but a discovery brings us closer than ever. A curse, a jaguar, and fleeing workers throw the dig into chaos.

But we both have secrets, and I have more to fear than a big cat that may be supernatural.

Dad’s Friend: My Dirty Knight is a scorching New Adult Paranormal Romance novella for mature readers over 18. It contains language and adult situations some readers might find offensive. Beware: this book contains first love with a too-close alpha man. It's a standalone novella, no cliffhanger. Adventurous readers, enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Q. Zayne
• Release date: Dec 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370817733

Q. Zayne

Q. Zayne often appears on top 100 author lists. Q. minored in Classical Archaeology and has an MFA in Creative Writing from SFSU. After teaching at the university, working as an editor, and freelancing, the author embarked on a wild digital publishing adventure. Thanks to fabulous readers, super promoters, and unflagging supporters, Q. writes fiction for a living from the Yucatan, Central America, and the California coast.Check out the Quin Zayne books for dirty, high-heat romance, and Q. Zayne for Erotica and naughty fairy tales.

Book preview

Dedication

for D & T

None of my books would have reached the world outside my mind without you. All writers should have such amazing, wise and kind supporters!

And to my readers. Your reviews make the long hours worth it. :)

xox

Q.

Merida, Yucatan

Reunion with Roth

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Long before I arrived in the Yucatan, my fascination with ancient cultures led me to write books connected to Maya lore. Dirty Knight is the first book inspired by a Maya tale that I wrote while traveling here. This land full of ancient ruins, the surviving Maya people, and jaguars continues to inspire me.

In case you didn’t read the description, be advised that Dad’s Friend: My Dirty Knight includes strong sexual content and dark, mature themes some people may find offensive or triggering. Adventurous readers, enjoy.

Q.

I called him Dirty Knight. We weren’t related, though he was practically a member of the family. He came over for dinner a couple times a week when he was in town, or took us out—all of us, me included, always. He wasn’t like some of Dad’s friends who spent time only with Dad and Mom.

So Dirty Knight was my favorite friend of the family. Always had been, always would be. My favorite older man. The one who made me bite my pillow at night.

I flipped my hair back over my shoulders and checked out my dress for dinner. The cobalt blue fabric clung to my body, leaving no doubt that I was all grown up. I hadn’t seen my Dirty Knight for six months.

He’d been off in the Yucatan jungle, deciphering Mayan inscriptions and working to preserve an endangered site. I treasured every email from him. I could tell it was hard for him to pull himself away from his work to come to us in California. He could stand to do it because his trusted local workers stayed at the site to prevent looting. The trade in illegal antiquities rewarded people for hacking up priceless ancient sites.

There weren’t words for what Dirty Knight did. He wasn’t an archaeologist, not an official one, and he cared about contemporary people where he worked, not just the long-dead ones. Explorer was probably the closest term. His letters reminded me of those 19th century guys—they were always guys, with a few exceptions like Alexandra David-Neel in Tibet—sending dispatches to the National Geographic Society. He was too wealthy to need to be anything, so he did what he wanted to do.

Dad called him a billionaire, but not often to his face—Roth’s wealth seemed to be a sensitive issue between them. They went to school together. Dad did okay, he researched other pre-Columbian cultures, mainly Aztecs and Incas and some of the ones a lot of people didn’t hear much about, Olmecs and Toltecs and so on. He did freelance graphic design because archeology didn’t exactly pay much. He always had to scrabble for grants to do anything in the field. Dirty Knight would have helped, but Dad wouldn’t accept it. I suspected some of Dad’s grants came from his old friend. I had a less credulous mind than my old man. Someone paid him to spend last winter in the Yucatan hunting for undiscovered ruins? Really? I loved my dad, but he wasn’t a top name in his field, and I didn’t buy that foundations were handing out grants to relative unknowns in such tight times.

Dad’s most recent billionaire comment stuck with me. "It must be easy for a billionaire without a family to plan a season of excavation." It came out with such bitterness, the two old friends never discussed money again, at least, not where I could hear it.

I ran his real name through a search: Roth Wild, seriously. He is so filthy rich, I’m surprised my tablet didn’t fry. I paged through the top results with the details of his holdings, his multiple estates all over the world, his collections of classic cars and single prop planes. He gave a lot to wildlife conservation. The man’s net worth was beyond my comprehension. My mouth hung open.

The man loved my dad. He’d never lorded any of his stuff or the luxurious details of his life over us. I’d had no idea how famous and important he was. It shattered me at first.

I didn’t know how to act or what to think about him any more. I just knew I missed him like rain.

My heart hammered when the doorbell rang. I smoothed my dress over my hips. I didn’t wear dresses often, bu I wanted to look amazing for Roth’s return.

He burst into the house with roses for mom and a bottle of single malt scotch for Dad. His kinetic power transformed our home. I fought to look dignified. A grin stretched my face at the sight of my tall, rugged, and sexy dirty knight. He swooped me into his arms and swung me around the living room. I squealed and my shoes flew off.

I felt his heart next to mine and couldn’t stop grinning for the joy of his arms around me. He was my Dirty Knight, same as always. He kissed my cheek, his bristles sexy at the corner of my lips. I blushed and slapped his shoulder. Same as always. Forget dignified. I was ecstatic to see him.

What would he do if I gave him a kiss on the lips and put all my passion for him into it? Would he be disgusted and push me away? Would he pull a morality act about being my dad’s best friend—or would he grip me to him and carry me to the closest bed to pop my cherry?

I wriggled out of his arms, face flaming. Taking his jacket to the hall closet gave me a chance to compose myself. I pressed it to my face, inhaling his musk. So much for composing myself.

Damn that stunning man. He looked better than ever with the squint lines around his bright eyes, the streaks of silver in his hair that curled at his collar, his determined chin and sexy mouth.

I returned to the heat of his presence, keeping my face mask-like. I adored ancient masks. I could do this. I would not show the man how much he affected me. My dad poured drinks and Mom got him talking about the dig.

It wasn’t easy to hang back and act casual, to maintain myself for eating dinner as though my stomach wasn’t fluttering with excitement and desire from the pleasure of seeing him again. Everything I felt was impossible.

I took my seat, doing my best to be silent and invisible, but I felt him watching me. Our home felt complete with him here. I’d missed him, despite his weekly emails. His presence was so vibrant, nothing in my life was as invigorating and wonderful as Dirty Knight.

I willed my nipples to go down. They were poking out so hard I felt sure everyone saw it, saw my nipples pointing right at Dirty Knight, the outrageously wealthy man I discovered owned such big chunks of the world.

Somehow, I managed to eat. He winked at me over dessert. I choked on Mom’s rich Mayan chocolate cake. Damn him.

You know, it’s so good to see you all again, I don’t want to leave. He smiled around the table. "I had a