Speak No Evil

By Kayla Gabriel

Brooding and stubborn, Asher Ellison will sacrifice everything to protect the one woman meant to be his, even if he has to walk away. Claiming his soul mate would place her life in mortal danger, and the sexy werebear would suffer a thousand hells before allowing anything to happen to her. His life is quiet. Empty. Lonely. But his stark existence is nothing compared to the danger Kira would face if he sticks around.
Someone disagrees. When Kira is kidnapped, Asher realizes he might have made a terrible mistake. And when she is dumped practically in his lap, his heart and mind are at war. His heart, and his bear, want their mate, want to keep her forever--and to hell with the consequences.
One look in Asher's dark gaze and Kira knows she's in a lot more trouble than just a threat to her life. Asher is far more dangerous than her enemies. She loved him, and he broke her into a million tiny pieces. And Kira's shattered heart never fully healed. Seeing him again is pure torture. But facing down the threat on her life without the devastatingly powerful Asher at her side is not an option. But neither is denying the longing in her still broken heart.
With love and destiny at war, Kira and Asher will have to move heaven and hell in order to face their demons… and get a second chance at breathless, passionate love.
Speak No Evil is a full length, sensual thrill ride and third in the Alpha Guardians series. If you love shifters with a taste for curvy women, hot romance with enough magic to make your skin tingle, and a swoon-worthy Happily-Ever-After, one click now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: KSA Publishing Consultants, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 16, 2018

Book preview

published.

Chapter One

Dominic Pere Mal Malveaux stood at The End of The World, the dramatic spot where the New Orleans shore line led straight outward before sloping down into the Mississippi River, turning over the events of the last few months. This particular spot was beloved by locals, a place to walk right out to the water. A good place to perhaps celebrate a holiday, or marvel at the beauty of the Louisiana coast.

Or think over one’s failures and accomplishments, as it were.

Pere Mal swept his hands down the front of his suit, ignoring the way the salty, humid breeze buffeted him. He sucked in a deep breath and watched a tug boat guiding a ship downriver. For a moment, he felt a strange lash of jealousy toward the ship. He wanted that kind of guidance, needed it. Over and over again he’d summoned the spirits of his ancestors, normally a talkative bunch.

But now… not a peep. Since that night, the disaster at St. Louis Cemetery #1, his ancestors had been silent. When he summoned them, he could feel them, knew they were present. But they gave him nothing. No advice, no glimpses into the future or the past. No help of any kind, just stony stoicism.

It seemed that not only had the Alpha Guardians ripped the First and Second Lights from Pere Mal’s grasp, but they had also managed to lower him in the eyes of his ancestors. Pere Mal’s hands bunched into tight fists as he looked out across the river, struggling to maintain his composure.

He wanted nothing more than to lash out, strike at the pesky bear shifters, burn their heavily-warded communal house to the ground. But no, that wouldn’t do. He still needed the First and Second lights, eventually. For now, he’d have to sit back and let them get comfortable, allow their security to grow lax.

For now, he needed to hurt the Guardians in a more subtle way. The two Guardians attached to the First and Second Lights had their mates locked up nice and tight, no easy way to breach those defenses. The third Guardian was nowhere to be found… an unfortunate thing, since Pere Mal would move mountains to get his hands on a living, breathing dragon. Even if the creature never bent to his will, the money to be made from selling the blood and teeth and scales was immeasurable.

That left the fourth Guardian, though Pere Mal was uncertain whether his membership was official yet. Luckily Pere Mal had seen the new one coming, and he’d put a plan in place to make sure the shifter wouldn’t be a problem for long.

Slipping his cell phone from his pocket, he thumbed through his contacts and then hit dial.

Monsieur, came the man’s immediate response, his thick Germanic accent slowing his words. How may I be of service?

You still have the girl we spoke of before, correct? Pere Mal asked.

"Ja, of course."

I need her delivered to a residence on Esplanade.

There was a pause.

I do not understand, the man replied.

I am going to text you the address. I want her dropped in the front yard, as conspicuously as possible.

Monsieur, you plan to set her free? She could level the whole city with a thought, if the conditions were correct.

Pere Mal frowned.

"That won’t happen. She’s in stasis right now, useless to me until she’s been… let’s say, activated. For that to happen, I need you to stop asking questions and follow my wishes."

Of course, sir.

As soon as I have confirmation that she’s been delivered, I will wire the funds to you as we agreed, Pere Mal said, already losing interest.

Sir, if I may—

Pere Mal ended the call and returned the cell phone to his suit pocket. Looking out over the water, he felt satisfied for the first time in days. Soon, his days of groveling at his ancestors’ feet, seeking more power and influence, would be at an end.

All he needed was a bit of leverage, and he’d just set that in motion. Turning away from the river, Pere Mal smiled.

Tout vient à point à qui sait attendre.

All good things in time, n’est-ce pas? All good things in time.

Chapter Two

If the ceremony was going to happen tonight, time was running out. Asher Ellison checked his watch and found that it was 11:43. Seventeen minutes to midnight, on the night with the month’s fullest moon. Seventeen minutes to decide his fate for the foreseeable future, whether he would be bound to the paranormal protectorate of New Orleans. Or not, perhaps.

We know nothing about Asher. No knowledge, no control. That’s not how I like to run my operation here. Rhys Macaulay crossed his arms and planted his feet, a typical display of dominance. Rhys was the textbook definition of a bear shifter, tall, muscle-bound and more than a little aggressive when he felt it necessary. Asher didn’t envy Rhys’s companion the battle.

We can’t wait for Aeric anymore. It’s been three months. We don’t know when he’ll come back, if ever… and I, for one, do not relish the idea of trying to force a dragon to do something against his will, Mere Marie shot back, staring up at the massive ginger warrior who stood before her in a defiant stance. Brilliant moonlight splashed across the yard, illuminating the scene. It was nearly the witching hour, nearly time for the ceremony to begin.

Asher was over a hundred yards away, watching the feisty little Voodoo queen argue with head Guardian Rhys Macaulay, but he still picked up nearly every word of their conversation. In his former line of work, reading lips was a vital skill; it was nice to know he hadn’t lost his touch since giving up military intelligence.

Well, less given up and more shot dozens of times. Enough that he’d been forced to fake his death lest the Marines realize just what manner of wicked blade they had on their hands. The idea of the military finding out about shifters and then weaponizing them somehow… Even Asher shivered at that, and nothing in the world made him break a sweat.

He was stone inside and out, through and through, just as his training had made him. His old bosses should be so, so proud.

He stood just inside the wall of windows and French doors that led from the Manor’s communal ground floor living area out into the yard, waiting. Waiting for Rhys and Mere Marie to come to a consensus, waiting for Gabriel to arrive.

Asher did a lot of waiting. He’d trained himself to turn within during lulls in action or conversation, to spend his down time analyzing and planning. This little shouting match between Mere Marie and Rhys had gone on for over twenty minutes, and nothing could be done without Gabriel.

As Asher watched the argument outside, he ran all the potential outcomes of it through his mind. Duverjay, the Manor’s butler, turned on a light in the kitchen. Suddenly Asher’s view of the argument outside disappeared, replaced by his own image. Dark, close-cropped hair starting to silver at the temples, dark brows slashing over near-black eyes, a broad full-lipped mouth and thickly corded muscle from head to toe. His body was a well-honed weapon, his mind sharper than the deadliest knife, and yet…

His reflection showed something that worried him. A hint of exhaustion, that much was normal. But there was something darker, too, some bit of shadow that should have been more surprising. It wasn’t a specific thing, more a lack of something… Asher had to admit that whatever it was, it had been growing for years. Ever since-

Still having a row, are they? Gabriel’s voice startled Asher from his brooding. The tall, dark-haired Brit appeared next to Asher, squinting as he peered outside. He still wore his patrol uniform, black pants and a black tee under a heavy bulletproof vest. His sword and firearms were missing, though he carried a black duffel bag.

Yeah. It looks like Rhys has backed down, though, Asher said.

Great. Now that that’s sorted, Gabriel said, reaching into his duffel bag and pulling out a wad of shimmering black velvet. He thrust the bundle at Asher’s chest. Don’t touch the dagger until I tell you to, unless you relish the idea of missing fingers.

Asher accepted the cloth-wrapped weapon gingerly, following Gabriel as he strode out into the yard. Asher hesitated for the barest moment, pushing down the tiny voice that protested against making such a long-lasting promise to the Guardians. His phobia of commitment was nothing new, and he’d already decided on this path.

Once Asher Ellison made a decision, he followed through. It was a tenet of his personality, part of what kept him going through some of the most difficult moments in his life. He didn’t revisit or rethink or dither, he picked a course and followed it through to the bitter end. No exceptions.

Setting his jaw, Asher stalked out into the back yard, letting the moonlight wash away his apprehensions.

Chapter Three

There was something very, very wrong with Kira Hudson. She was certain of it. Slumped in a metal folding chair, hunched over below the only window in the dim, dank basement, she stared at her hands. They were bound in front of her now, duct tape chafing her wrists; the new guard had told her point-blank that any attempt at escape would result in some kind of very painful punishment, and that it was futile anyway.

Kira was snatched off the street in Baton Rouge four days ago… or was it five now? At any rate, the skinny, pale meth head currently guarding her was her favorite of the men who’d held the post so far. This one was too far gone