Chase: Scorpio Sons, #4

By Nhys Glover

You can't escape your destiny, even if you want to. And Chase Scanlan has wanted to all his life. Even so, he follows his destiny and becomes the leader of the Scorpio Sons, making duty and the responsibility for saving the world his only priorities. Until fate steps in again, presenting him this time with a mate he doesn't want. Not because she isn't beautiful or smart enough, or doesn't stir his blood, because she does all that and more. But because she is too young and damaged, and he has no desire to destroy yet another person who loves him.

 

However, Anna isn't so easily destroyed. She proved that when she survived the horrendous life of a child sex-slave in Russia. When the leader of the genetically engineered warriors claims her, she again finds herself a prisoner, but this time captivity is far sweeter. As love between the two reluctant mates grows, so does her willingness to be a part of his world. Especially when her past offers the Sons a pathway to her enemy's greatest secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nhys Glover
• Release date: Dec 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223133391

Nhys Glover

After a lifetime of teaching others to appreciate the written word, Aussie author Nhys Glover finally decided to make the most of the Indie Book Revolution to get her own written word out to the world. Now, with more than a quarter million of her ebooks downloaded internationally and a winner of an SFR Galaxy Award for 'The Titan Drowns', Nhys finds her words, too, are being appreciated. At home in beautiful Durham County England, Nhys these days spends her time "living the dream" by looking out over the moors as she writes the kind of novels she loves to read.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Ten years ago, Southern San Francisco Hinterland

WOOOOHOOO! YELLED fifteen-year-old Chase Scanlan, riding pillion on his best friend’s motorbike, arms extended like airplane wings as he embraced the wind and the speed.

This was living! This was what life was supposed to be about! Not duty; not politics or business; not the fucking-end-of-the-world, save-the-planet, aliens-under-the-bed shit his father force-fed him every minute he spent with him.

Fun, freedom, LIFE!

Why couldn’t his dad just let him be a kid for a while? Why did he have to be The One, like Neo in The Matrix movies? He deserved to have a little fun. He deserved it. Wasn’t he the fucking perfect son the rest of the time? Top grades, elite athlete, and impeccable manners? Didn’t his father know that all work and no play made Chase a very dull boy?

Stop wobbling us! Mike yelled over his shoulder.

Mike Tanner had turned sixteen three days ago, and had just gotten his license that afternoon. Euphoric, gorged on success and freedom, Chase’s friend since kindergarten had called him up at midnight, a little stoned, and ready to spread his wings.

And that’s what they were doing, spreading their wings as they flew like the wind down the Pacific Coast Highway—without helmets and without leathers. Illegal and loving it!

While Chase continued to whoop with joy, Mike gripped the handlebars of his Yamaha a little tighter, his shoulders tensing up. He was still a little unsure of himself, especially at speed, but the pot had at first relaxed him. Now it was wearing off.

Mike would get more confident the more he rode, Chase decided with the wisdom of a well-schooled teen. If Chase had learned one thing from his father, it was that practice made perfect. So, the longer they rode along the dark highway, the glowing moon full and round in the inky sky, the better he’d get.

Still staring at the moon over the glistening ocean to his right, he began howling like a wolf. Chase wasn’t sure what happened next. One minute the bike was upright, the next it was sliding sideways. It listed to the left as it skidded, tires frozen in place, squealing as they left rubber along the road.

Something exploded inside him, taking control of Chase’s mind.

Something feral and powerful and frightening.

As the bike careened along the tarmac on its side, Chase kicked free of the machine and his friend. Curling up like a basketball the moment he hit the tarmac, he rolled, the momentum carrying him all the way to the gravel on the side of the highway. The sound of screeching metal was deafening, as were the squeals of tires and breaks as a big-rig swerved across the road, trying to avoid the bike.

Chase hurt everywhere. His brain refused to do more than communicate sensations in microscopic detail: pain in his shoulder, his back, his head; gravel in his face; splintered shafts of agony in his chest that made breathing almost impossible; the stench of burning rubber, of blood and fuel.

And fear.

As his body came to a standstill at last, he drew in one sobbing, agonized breath.

It was a relief when the darkness finally claimed him.

FOUR YEARS AGO, ST Petersburg, RUSSIA

HER ‘PROTECTOR’ LUMBERED up the wooden staircase outside her door. Any moment now she’d hear the key turn in the lock and the light from the dingy hall would spread into her garishly decorated prison.

Sometimes he’d bring her gifts, silly, childish things. Other times he’d bring her food enough to last her the time between his visits. Sometimes he brought drugs that would numb the pain, so his mauling was less onerous. More often than not, he brought nothing, and she had to put up with him using her body as if it was nothing more than a receptacle for his lust. And sometimes, the worst times, he’d bring his friends, and they would laugh as they shared her between them; leaving her in agony for days afterwards.

That was the worst. That was the worst by far.

But tonight, the sounds of his bear-like steps told her he was alone. Her body was still sore and bleeding from the last time, but that wouldn’t matter to him. It never did. Although he called himself her Protector—telling her he loved her and that he proved it by keeping her from having to whore herself on the streets as the other girls did—none of it was true. She knew this because she’d been owned by other men like him in the last two years. All she was to him and his kind was a pretty doll that took their fancy for a while.

For a long time now, she’d been working a spring loose from her bed. Her plan had been to use it to unlock the door somehow. But when those men had left her broken and bloody on the bed three nights ago, a new imperative had entered her head.

No more!

The key turned. The light spread in from the hall. He lit the little lamp he always brought with him and stood it on the table in the center of the room. After locking the door, he pocketed the key.

Stumbling like the drunk he was—because she knew he was a drunk by the stench coming off him all the time—he made his way to the bed and collapsed on top of it, face up.

Huddled against the wall next to the bathroom, she fingered the almost straight piece of wire in her hand behind her back

Malyshka, come here. I have need of you tonight, he slurred.

When he was like this, he was clumsy and rough. Her body screamed at the idea of having to bear his touch again.

She sauntered forwards, head down, long straggly blonde hair falling across her budding breasts. In summer, he left her with no clothes. In winter, he gave her just enough to keep her from freezing. But a Russian summer was seldom mild, and so most of her time she spent huddled under the thin blankets trying to keep warm.

At last, she reached him, knowing just how long she could stall before he grew impatient and sat up, ready to grab her. If she was going to do this thing, she had to do it while he was lying down. He was weakest like that.

A sickening drunken leer crossed his face as he saw her coming closer. His thick-fingered hand gestured her to come nearer. And she did.

As he made a grab for her, she raised her right hand, clasping the wire like a knife. She drove it with unerring precision into his left eyeball. She felt the pop as the wire passed through the eye and into the squishy brain-matter beyond. He uttered only one cut-off cry as his other eyeball bulged in surprise.

Anna was no stranger to blood. She’d seen a lot of it in the last two years. Some of it was hers, some of it belonging to the other child-prostitutes she’d shared a hovel with between Protectors. One little boy had died in her arms, the blood from his brutal rape pooling around them both.

But this blood and gore splattered her face and sprayed in her mouth. She felt like she was drowning in it.

CHAPTER ONE

Four months ago, December , LOS ANGELES

BLOOD, BLOOD EVERYWHERE, threading its way through the water, turning it a ghastly shade of pink. The sharks circled; each one malign, unfeeling, and predatory. One by one, they pounded against her sides, finally driving her under. Her mouth filled with the acrid tang of blood. She tried to scream, tried to draw breath, but...

Anna Jarvis woke to find her flatmate banging on the wall between their rooms. As the dream faded, her heartbeat returned to normal. But the taste of blood was still on her tongue and she was still gasping, trying to draw air into her laboring lungs.

The nightmares, which had plagued her almost every night after her rescue from her living nightmare four years ago, had stopped at last when she came to America. Her therapist back in Russia had called them symptoms of PTSD, and had worked with her to overcome them, along with her anxiety attacks and cold sweats. And she’d succeeded with all but the nightmares. It had taken coming to America two years ago to bring about the final healing.

Or, that had been the case, up to the moment she saw Alyssa Aimes’ media mogul boyfriend for the first time. It had been in the corridors of the Grand Regent, where she worked. Then the nightmares had all started up again. Now her flatmate was threatening to move out if she didn’t find a way to stop her blood-curdling screams in the middle of the night.

Wiping the fast-cooling sweat from her face, Anna slumped back onto her comfortable bed. It was so different from the stinking mattresses she’d slept on in the past. Everything was different here, and from the moment she set foot on US soil, she’d felt truly free for the first time.

But now the dreams were back, compounding her worries for the little singer who had captured her heart. Not that Anna was alone in her adoration. Alyssa had captured the heart of the entire country.

It wasn’t Anna’s job to watch the comings and goings at the Grand Regent, other than to find out when it was a suitable time to clean a room. But she had watched the little singer with avid, watchful eyes ever since the twelve finalists of Star Quality had taken up residence in the hotel.

Alyssa Aimes was special to her, not only because of her talent and innocent sweetness, but because Anna had felt a connection to her, right from the start. And every time Alyssa passed Anna in the hall, she’d smile and nod, as if they were old friends. Sometimes she almost felt like they were, especially when Anna stayed late and watched the competition in the staff common room. The producers gave the viewers such an intimate look into the singer’s personal life that it left her feeling as if they were real friends.

But then Alyssa started seeing Akabar. As soon as Anna caught her first glimpse of him, ice-cold fingers had run down her spine. For four long years she’d fought to forget her past, but at the first sight of the billionaire it had all came flooding back.

Not that Akabar and her Protector looked anything alike. One was short, dark, impeccably dressed, and sophisticated. The other had been a huge, lumbering bear who was never quite clean or sober. But there was something similar about them. And that similarity started her worrying about her friend.

There’d been many times when Anna had wanted to take Alyssa’s hand as they passed in the hall. She wanted to tell her to be careful, to stay away from that man, because she just knew he was evil. But the fear of being labeled crazy and losing her precious job stopped her from following through. If she’d had even one shred of evidence to support her instinctual reaction to the man, she would have gone to the pretty blonde singer and warned her. But there was no proof, just a feeling. And that wasn’t enough.

Then she’d seen two new men with Alyssa. They were her new bodyguards. Yet they were far more than just hired thugs, Anna could tell. The men were twins, identical twins from the look of them. Both were tall, muscular, and handsome. But their appeal wasn’t about physical attractiveness, because Anna found few men attractive. No, these new men in Alyssa’s life were like her Guardian Angels. Though she knew nothing about either of them, from the first moment Anna saw them, she felt she could trust them.

Anna knew something about human Guardian Angels. It had been a small team of them who’d rescued her from that hell-hole and taken her to a place of safety. The couple they left her with were academics and taught her many things, including English. They’d also paid for her to see a therapist who’d helped her deal with her PTSD and her anxiety around men.

But it wasn’t until they brought her to America, the Land of Opportunity, two years later that real healing took place. Anna thought it was the complete change of environment that did it. In Los Angeles, the sun was always shining, even if the smog was thick sometimes. In Los Angeles she could surround herself with smiling, carefree people, all with hopes and dreams of making it big on TV or in the movies. She had hopes and dreams too, none as grand as theirs, but it still felt good to surround herself with people like her. People who had hope.

Why her Guardian Angels sent her to America, she didn’t know. But they had given her a new identity, a new last name—Jarvis—and a new life, far away from the pain and shame of her past. Here, at sixteen, she’d started working as a cleaner in a big hotel. The Russian Angel who’d accompanied her to the States had taught her how to make her way in her new world a little at a time.

Now, two years on, she spoke English as if she’d been born here, thanks to elocution lessons from a part-time actress working in the hotel. She knew how to defend herself, thanks to the martial arts training she undertook in her spare time. And she shared a nice little apartment, close to work, with one of the other cleaning staff at the hotel. It was light, bright, and always spotlessly clean.

And it was as if Anna Makarovska had never existed.

But Anna had no therapist in Los Angeles, and not even her Russian Angel to talk to any more, as he’d gone home after assuring himself that she could make her own way in the new world. So there was no one to share her nightmares with. No one to help her put the past firmly back where it belonged. This time, Anna would have to find a way to do it for herself. She was no longer a child. It was time she learned to take care of not only her physical but also her emotional needs.

ONE MONTH AGO, FEBRUARY, LOS ANGELES

LOOK AT THIS! THAT poor Alyssa Aimes is in trouble again. Nancy, the motherly head of her cleaning team, thrust a newspaper in front of Anna’s nose as she sat listening to Dark Fantasies on her precious second-hand iPod for the millionth time.

What? Anna gave her head a shake to bring her mind back from the world of daydreams the song always took her to.

Alyssa’s album had gone to Number One the day after it released and had stayed there ever since. And though Anna loved the entire album, it was the title track that always transported her to another place.

You’re a fan of hers. You used to fight to get assigned to her room when she was stayin’ here. And I caught you watchin’ those bodyguards of hers with stars in your eyes. The short, tubby, middle-aged woman gave Anna an affectionate nudge and a wink. So, I thought you’d like to see what’s happened to her now.

Anna took the paper and scanned the headlines. Sure enough, Alyssa had indeed found herself in trouble again. Or maybe in trouble wasn’t the right word. On the edge of trouble was a better description.

Someone had almost kidnapped her back in December, and then her boyfriend had disappeared. The police considered the two events linked. In a newspaper, a police-officer was quoted as saying that Alyssa was just collateral damage in an intricate plot designed to get to her boyfriend.

Somehow, Anna knew that what the papers said wasn’t quite the truth. Alyssa had been the target, and whoever had taken Akabar had saved Alyssa’s life.

And ended Anna’s nightmares.

Now, more than a month later, Alyssa was back in the headlines again. This time because she was on a luxury yacht in the Caribbean when pirates kidnapped the owner of the yacht, the English billionaire, Karl Rothmen. The newspaper recounted the details of the sensational event. It concluded by saying Alyssa was unavailable for comment, but that an unnamed source close to the star had said the singer felt very upset by the events, especially coming so soon after Akabar’s abduction.

That girl must wish she could go back to her old life. At least there she was safe. People weren’t trying to kidnap her or her friends back then. Good thing she has those handsome twin brothers looking out for her. Now there’s some prime male flesh, if I do say so myself. They used to set this old heart to flutterin’ every time they prowled by. Hmmm, it sure wasn’t fair that one woman should have the attentions of two hunks of male lovin’ like that.

Anna blushed, not wanting to find herself on the same page as a woman old enough to be her mother. But it was hard to deny. Those brothers had been attractive. Even to her, they’d seemed oddly attractive. And it was clear she wasn’t the only one who thought so.

I’m just glad she wasn’t also hurt or kidnapped. You might be right. Maybe it was less dangerous for her back before she became a star. Anna folded the paper and returned it with a smile.

Moments later, someone turned on the communal TV, where the latest news on the kidnapping was being broadcast. Next, they screened footage of Karl Rothmen giving a speech at a charity gala in Germany, as the newsreader explained who he was. But it was clear the major thrust of the report remained focused on America’s sweetheart, Alyssa Aimes.

Anna watched Rothmen, unable to drag her eyes away from him. Her heart missed a sickening beat. Though there was no discernible similarity between her Protector and this missing billionaire, Anna couldn’t help knowing him for what he was.

Not again! Alyssa had only just escaped the last monster circling her like a shark. Now another had gone missing before he could move in for the kill. Either Alyssa was fortunate or her Guardian Angels were very vigilant. But unless the singer learned to see the sharks for what they were, the next monster to swim after her just might succeed in taking her down. Like they always took Anna down in her nightmares.

Anna wouldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let that happen to Alyssa.

You okay, Gorgeous? Fat Franco said in passing, his usual lecherous grin replaced by concern.

Huh? She looked around, trying to get her bearings again, and noticed how many staff in the large common room were now staring at her as if she had two heads. Yes. Yes, I’m perfectly fine. I’m just worried about Alyssa. She seems to always be in danger.

That pretty little thing would be in danger from me and my magnetic charm if I gave her half the chance. Though my heart belongs to you, sweet cheeks, she might tempt me away from you for a while. I’m only human, after all. Franco’s tone was sleazy, and Anna shuddered, even though she sensed the man was harmless.

It had taken a lot of therapy to get her to a place where she could acknowledge that all men were not monsters and that she could tell the difference. Franco was no monster. He was just a guy past his prime, who still thought he could pull the ladies. He was no threat to her.

Franco, you stop sexually harassing my girls or you’ll be lookin’ for a new job. You’ve been warned before. Can’t you see you make Anna uncomfortable? She thinks you’re serious, you dirty old man. Nancy charged in like a mother hen, flapping her wings at the fat, old fox after her chick.

Now, Nancy, you know I’m only playing with the girl.

Then stop playin’, you hear me? Or I’ll be reportin’ you. And you’re too fat to get another job! The middle-aged woman crossed her arms over her own copious breasts and scowled at the man until he slunk away, grumbling.

Don’t you go worryin’ about that sleaze-ball, honey. He’s all bark and no bite.

Anna nodded and sighed. She had more pressing concerns than Fat Franco right now, but she had to appreciate Nancy’s vigilance. Had there been a Nancy in her life six years ago, maybe her path would have been a different one.

She returned her thoughts to her greatest worry. What was she going to do about Alyssa’s ignorance? How could she warn the singer about the men