The Fulcrum, Book Four: The Fulcrum, #4

By Lenaya Fallin

The exciting conclusion!

 

ˈfʊlk.ɹəm: the fixed point, providing balance and power

Life can be tricky you are submissive, genetically engineered and related to spies.
She is a journalist whose biggest scoops can never be written.
The current one is a doozy.
Her brothers are MIA. No one seems to know the nature of the mission or even where it took place.
And she's stuck on a business trip when a chance meeting at the hotel's front desk puts her on a dominant's radar.
She is tired, stressed and frightened for her brothers. All she wants to do is get past Mr. Tall, Dominant and Italian without giving away her submissive nature. Then again, what would be the harm in throwing a little caution to the wind, just for one evening?
Especially once he makes it clear he won't be happy until he gets her right where he wants her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lenaya Fallin
• Release date: May 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201372040

Book preview

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. 

The Fulcrum

This is the second part of an ongoing story with exciting cliffhanger endings. Please read parts 1, 2, and 3 before going on. All parts are now available here.

Chapter Forty-Eight

What the—?  

Ammy’s mind blanked, her tongue did not. I don't think so.

Baz continued as if he’d said something reasonable. Talked to your doctor lately? How ya feeling?

Crumby. Like crap on toast. The illness was bad enough at the best of times. But the constant stress of distance from her Shadow—Baz, on her body's systems was making things much worse.

But marriage?

She thought not.

He was talking again. I think what you are doing extremely dangerous. To you personally. You wanna control the operation, fine. You've tasked me with watching your back. The only way I can do that comprehensively, wherever you are, is to make you Kindred. The only way to make you Kindred is through marriage.

The crazy idiot leaned further into her space. "So let me rephrase that. We are getting married. Or else. Or else I withdraw my brothers. Or else, I start throwing monkey wrenches into plans B-Z."

She glared at him. God, he was hot like this. His hotness was seriously messing with her mental processes. Time to play this tape through to the end. This 'natural mate' stuff or HSMP as Dale dubbed it, 'Hyper-Selectivity in Mating Preference', was permanent. Going by Gabe, not even death seemed to obliterate it.

Baz was hers. She knew it deep in her bones. And she was his. Utterly. It was a two-way connection which contained only him and only her. It was physical, biochemical. But it wasn't in her head. She shared so much of her mind's real estate with the twins. When was the last time she felt this close to someone she had to get to know? Like. Ask questions, and not feel the answers filter down into her own senses? Never. And because their connection took place outside of her mind, she didn't have to share him with anyone. She nearly hugged herself with joy. Hadn't thought of that, had you? No, she had not.

Holy crap. She was very much afraid she would say, 'yes'.

Instead, she asked a question. How much do you know about my night with Elim?

Enough to know I don't want to talk about it.

You're the one who wants to get married. No doubt you got the goods on when Mossad pored over the details of that evening. I’m sure that gave you insight into certain peculiarities of my character.

What, that you're a sexual submissive?

That I'm a submissive woman.

Baz watched Ammy screw her eyes shut. Fuck. Fuck, that was hot. Thick curly lashes fanned over velvet skin. He almost laughed. 'You can't see me if I can't see you.' The little girl logic of it was adorable. His gut clenched in a tangle of want. He'd never been so desperate to get a ‘yes’ out of a woman.

He really needed to cool his jets. Tell me what you mean by that.

One eye cracked open. I prefer to be the submissive partner in my intimate relationships.

Always?

Something in her squirmed away from that question, but she answered anyway. Yes.

M/s or D/s?

Oh dear. Now that was a question she really didn’t want to answer. I'm not sure any longer.

Baz growled. Fucking Elim.

Honestly, not just him. I was, surprised at the answer. But the question had been brewing for a while.

So we are talking 24/7 power exchange, regardless.

She could hardly speak for trepidation. But she opened her mouth and said the word which committed her to the possibility of not being what he wanted. She was too much, always too much.

Yes.

Okay. He nodded to himself. This is going to be tricky. We're in a bit of a dichotomous situation. You want me to control you, I want to control you. But we've only just met. You also want me to stay out of what you term as 'family business' that could have a profound effect on our future—

My. Future.

Ours. Yours and mine. What do you think happens if this blows up in your face and he comes for you? Or your government does? Under what circumstances do you imagine, I'm not gonna start dropping bodies?

Ours.

Yeah. Now are you going to back down from being the one who institutes this little plan of yours?

No. They said at the same time.

Dammit woman.

She blew him a kiss.

We are so getting married.

That is not something I can say yes to.

Who says you have to?

They'd been doing some kind of Tracy/Hepburn banter, but suddenly he got serious.

You're talking about a man whose family, whose clan, constitutes, a small nation of men. We made laws to benefit our women, but only inasmuch as it served us. The codes pertaining to the treatment of wives, although they made a study of how to make a woman happy, were pragmatic. Completing a called union via kidnapping? Perfectly acceptable. There are a couple of places in the world I can bundle you off to where our codes are law. Where your 'I do' is purely optional. My option.

You wouldn't?

He passed her his phone. Dial 756.

She did. And he pushed the speaker button. Blade?

Yes, Keeper.

Wait. Was that..? The voice was familiar, though it held a good deal more amusement than she remembered when she talked to it about the Colonel’s ‘staffing problems’.

Ha ha. Don't call me that.

Well, you are—

Wheels up with the package in twenty.

Why are you on speaker, Keeper?

The guy – Blade – was taken with a sudden fit of coughing; he was cracking himself up.

I'm giving her a choice you moron.

He's an honourable man my Lady.

Hold up now.

Wait, I get to be a 'My Lady?' and what's a keeper?

Baz grimaced. 'Asshole,' he thought. The Codes forbade brothers from interfering in a called union. There was, however, nothing in them about not enjoying themselves at a suitor's expense.  Clearly, Vanya intended to amuse himself by stirring the shit. Information was a powerful force in the persuasion of a wife. Her curiosity peaked; careful rationing of their family's history would be a helpful lure to the woman before him.  Vanya, randomly spilling shit was not. 

Kindred secrets, my Lady, Vanya said.

Stand ready, Baz growled.

He leaned away slightly, playing the edges of his phone against the table.

Okay, Mr. Casual. Ammy locked eyes on his and leaned back against the wall, negligently winding one of her locs around a finger, every bit as insouciant as he. Speak!

He  smirked and a shrugged. Kindred secrets. Into which you'll be initiated once you're my wife.

Chapter Forty-Nine

––––––––

She cut her eyes at him. He really played hardball. Fine. We'll talk about it.

You're cute when you're pissy.

And you're adorable when taking your life in your hands. Ammy shot back. Seriously, though. None of this would be such an emergency if, she cut herself off. She refused to say it out loud. ‘If you'd come back for me sooner.’ Six months. Six difficult, lonely months.

He was closer and kissing her in a flash. Something more intense than the gentle, drugging kisses of their earlier kisses. But no less controlled. She could feel herself melting. Going liquid with desire, falling into him. And then he was straightening up, keeping her close but refusing to continue. He smiled. She closed her eyes again to savor the kiss without having to deal with the smug. Had that little whimper come from her? Damn. Fingertips caressed her temple, down her cheek. He pressed a lush, brief kiss to her mouth. She cracked an eyelid at him. The fresh smile on his face held sorrow and pain.

There were thing needed doing first. As it is, I'm early. You forced my hand. You'll have to bear with me, love. I'm still unprepared.

Things?

Things. Disentangling myself from my last paymaster for one.

Who?

He groaned, dramatically.

"Mossad? French Intel? MI6? Ohhh. MI6."

He put a hand over her mouth. Do not practice your Psych Ops witchery on me kitten, it's not fair. What?

My plan though.

First things first, we make you safe and a nod to inevitability at the same time. I can agree not to institute any sweeping changes until we've seen your brothers and their company through this. Is that fair?

Was she really about to agree to marry someone? He was, she felt with every beat of her heart, utterly hers. Had been since before they met, it felt like. But.

"None but the very deepest love will tempt me into matrimony." Fine words written by a fine author. Words by which Ammy had lived her life. She'd sworn that day, standing in a kitchen choked with the noxious fumes of yet another ugly fight between her father and stepmother, that she would never marry under any circumstances except those espoused by Lizzie Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. Yet here she was. Considering a marriage of convenience to a man she barely knew, with a past and family too complicated to contemplate. Holly Hannah.

Yes, she croaked.

Excellent.

Am I needed for this conversation? The voice on the phone piped up again.

Baz’s face registered annoyance. Only in as much as it's time for the families to meet. Knock on her brother's window and tell him there's going to be a wedding tonight. I'll call Uncle. And he ended the call.

Hold up, that’s a bit fast. Wait, tonight? Ammy tried pumping the brakes.

Baz couldn’t have been less interested in slowing down, he pocketed his phone with a chirpy, No time like the present.

But— She wasn't exactly a bridezilla, but a girl liked a little pomp and circumstance. Not to mention a killer dress. And as much as she hated to admit it, she was... traditional. Something borrowed, something blue and all that crap.

He cradled her hand in his.

"The traditions of my family are not romantic in the common way of things. But there is a great sense of honor and history in them. Over the centuries, quite the celebration has grown up around marriages. There is no greater moment than one in which a new woman joins our ranks. We know we'll have no daughters, granddaughters or nieces. So each one added by marriage, becomes