Cooper: Scorpio Sons, #3

By Nhys Glover

The Scorpio Sons' only enemy is the Guild. They loath and are physically repulsed by them. So how could the gentle, wheelchair-bound Cooper find Amy Hays, a daughter of the Guild, the most beautiful girl he's ever seen? How could he go against orders and meet with her in secret? And how could he risk everything the Sons had worked for to be with her?

 

For Amy, abused from childhood, afraid to make even the most insignificant decisions in case they're wrong, loving a genetically-engineered warrior clone could prove the worst mistake of her life. As the deepest secrets that surround the Sons, the Résistance, and the mysterious head of the Guild are revealed, Cooper and Amy must find a way to heal each other and come together to save a world teetering on the edge of destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nhys Glover
• Release date: Jan 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224407712

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

The novel is entirely a work of fiction. With the exception of historical events and people used as background for the story, and those in the public domain, the names, characters and incidents portrayed in this work come wholly from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental

Published as a Box Set by Belisama Press 2016

© Nhys Glover 2014

The right of Nhys Glover to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

OTHER BOOKS BY NHYS GLOVER

ANCIENT ROMAN HISTORICAL ROMANCES:

Liquid Fire

The Barbarian's Mistress

Lionslayer's Woman (Sequel to Liquid Fire)

White Raven's Lover (Sequel to Barbarian's Mistress)

The Gladiator's Bride (Sequel to White Raven's Lover)

WEREWOLF KEEP TRILOGY:

Guardian of Werewolf Keep

Imprisoned at Werewolf Keep

Defiance at Werewolf Keep

Insane (A novella)

NEW ATLANTIS TIME TRAVEL SERIES:

Nine Lives (Cara/Jac)

The Dreamer's Prince (Jane/Julio)

Savage (Faith/Luke)

Shared Soul (Maggie/Travis)

Bitter Oath (Liv/Rene)

The Titan Drowns (Eilish/Max, Karl/Lizzie, Pia/Marco)

The Key (Kat/Bart)

Pieces (Krista/Dirk)

Second Chance (Bree/Hakon)

Watcher (Jin/Rafe)

Vision of You (Ellen/Duke)

Osiris (Takhara/Dan)

Causality (Willow/Jarvidh)

Gods of Time (Teagan/Jason, Lucien/Alba)

Book of Seeds (Shay/Cy)

Echoes of You (Josie/Chen)

Breathe (Meg/Rico)

SCORPIO SONS SF/SHIFTER ROMANCE SERIES:

1: Colton  2: Connor  3: Cooper  4: Chase

5: Cameron  6: Caleb  7: Conrad  8: Charles

GREYWORLD SWEET PARANORMAL ROMANCE

Your World or Mine?

Her World or Ours?

Their Worlds Collide

His World on Repeat

REVERSE HAREM ADVENTURES:

THE AIRLUDS TRILOGY:

The Sacrifice

The Chosen One

Goddess Unbound

THE AIRSHAN CHRONICLES

The Five

Daemon

The Devourer

GLADIATOR

1.Typhon  2.Asterius  3. Talos  4.Orion  5.Marcus

THE DANANS

Captive

Escape

Reunion

Outliers

Gift

Shattered

Stolen

PROTECTORS

Sand, Stone & Steel

Ice, Shard & Smoke

Blade, Hilt & Amphion

Galaxeans

Shadow

ALFIE WIMPLE TRILOGY (Paranormal Romantic Comedy)

Sticks and Standing Stones Can Break my Bones

But Ferrets Can Never Hurt Me

Dragons, On the Other Hand...

MINERVA’S MYSTERIES (Cozy Mysteries)

The Lost Child

The Missing Party-Girl

The Troubled Man

OTHERS:

The Way Home (Ghost Romance)

Caught in a Dream (SF Sweet Romance)

Labyrinth of Light (New Age Inspirational)

For Love of Liam (A Sweet Romantic Comedy)

Haunted (A sweetish Romantic Mystery)

Return to Me (New Age Healing Romance)

Find out more about Nhys and her books here:

www.nhys-glover.com

CHAPTER ONE

Biting her bottom lip , Amy Hays stared at the people surrounding her. Some appeared sick. Others were the carers of the sick. Still others were just curiosity seekers here for the show. That she might somehow end up being part of that ‘show’ horrified her. And yet, wasn’t that why she was here?

With her head down and shoulders hunched so she looked as small as her long, lanky body could make her, she followed the rest of the audience into the large auditorium. The seating was all movable plastic chairs, so they could accommodate those in wheelchairs. And there were quite a few wheelchairs in the crowd, she noted.

If she thought she had problems, all she had to do was imagine how it would feel being imprisoned in a wheelchair, never being able to run or dance or do something as simple as climb a flight of stairs. No, she was luckier by far than those poor souls. At least her ailments weren’t physical.

She felt very conscious of the fact that she was one of the few people who’d come alone. Everyone else had carers or friends with them. All except the young man two rows over from her back-row seat. He seemed as out of place as she was, having wheeled himself into his place without help only a few moments before she’d taken her seat.

That was worst of all. It was one thing to be unable to walk; it was another to be alone and unable to walk. Maybe he had friends and family who hadn’t been able to come tonight. Maybe he had a wife or girlfriend who was just late arriving.

How old was he? Mid-twenties, she guessed, maybe five years older than she was. But something about the invisible wall around him made him appear older than he looked, and more damaged than his physical injuries indicated.

But he was handsome. His darkish, sandy-colored hair was slightly too long, brushing the neck of the cream-colored, cable-knit sweater he wore. It was glossy and had a natural wave she envied. Her long ginger locks were as straight as a ruler. It was one of the many things she hated about her appearance.

The man fascinated her. And it wasn’t just because he was so good-looking, with those broad shoulders, firm chin, full lips, deep-set eyes below heavy brows, and high forehead. Several days’ scruff shadowed his cheeks. Was he growing a beard, or had he just not felt like shaving?

As if he felt Amy’s eyes on him, the man turned to look over at her. For a moment, he stared a challenge at her, those eyes like a hawk’s, fierce and all-seeing. Then he blinked, gave his head a little shake, and forced his expression to lose its angst. It became almost vulnerable.

Embarrassed to have been caught staring, Amy looked away, her too-pale cheeks beginning to burn to an ugly shade of beetroot red. She knew from experience what it looked like when her cheeks burned as they were doing now. How many times had she been laughed at because of that awful color?

Her tormentors had often taunted her with how ugly her red hair and red cheeks made her. Over the years, they had shortened Carrot Top and Beetroot Face to the cruel nickname Vegi . That Vegi was a derogatory term for someone mentally challenged didn’t go unnoticed by those terrible children.

How many times had she come home from school in tears? Too many to count.

In the early years she had Maria to comfort her, but when Amy turned ten her father had caught her hugging her nurse. He’d told Amy she was too old for such babyish behavior and sent away the only mother she’d ever known. Oh, she had an actual mother, one who’d carried her in her icy womb, but her true mother had always been Maria.

Until then, she’d been able to cope. It didn’t matter that she was ugly, stupid, and unlovable, as long as there was just one person in the world who thought she wasn’t those things. Just one person who loved her without condition. But once they sent Maria away, Amy broke apart, a little at a time, until somewhere around puberty she began her in-again-out-again visits to the sanatorium for her ‘nerves’.

Those stays were the happiest parts of her teen years. People were kind to her in that expensive institution, even if it was only the aloof form of kindness offered by professionals. But at least no one hit her or called her names there. No one tried to rape her.

She cried every time they sent her home and prayed the next time she got sick enough to be institutionalized would come soon. The drugs they gave her in that place made the pain go away for a while, allowing her to sleep. If she could, she would have slept her life away.

Despite her best intentions, Amy found her gaze drifting back to the man in the wheelchair. When they reached him, she had to jerk her gaze away again. Because he was staring at her this time, just as intently as she’d first stared at him.

What was he thinking? She hoped it wasn’t something like, What is that ugly loser doing staring at me? Am I so pathetic that even someone like her pities me?

Her painful, self-abusing thoughts came to an abrupt stop as the lights dimmed and a good-looking man in his thirties stepped out onto the stage and into a bright spot-lit circle. Around her, people gasped in admiration. This healer was impressive to look at. He wore a pure white suit, shirt, and tie, which set off his dark good-looks. When he smiled, his equally white teeth seemed to appear brighter than even the suit. A Hollywood smile, it was called. She had one, too. Her mother had insisted she have years of braces and her teeth bleached white, to improve her looks. Anything to improve her looks.

Something about this man rubbed her the wrong way. Was it just because of his teeth, or was it his confidence? As if he was more showman than healer?

What did she expect to have healed, anyway? Was stupid a disease that someone could heal? Plainness wasn’t. But she’d hoped against hope that this famous healer could give her a little confidence. Take a little of the sadness from her heart. Anything to make life bearable.

However, as the man began his spiel, her hopes faltered. Had coming here been yet another bad choice? Nothing he said resonated with her. In fact, the way people around her ate up his dramatic words made her feel uncomfortable. How could they just accept those superficial platitudes as if they fell from the lips of God? Couldn’t they see those words were hollow?

When the first of the supplicants started going to the front for healing, with much crying and many loud prayers to God, she found she could take it no more. With polite apologies, she excused herself as she made her way to the aisle. People must have thought she was heading down to the front for a healing, because they touched her arm and spoke words of support. It made her feel like a cheat to be leaving rather than staying. It made her feel wrong to have those slight gestures of comfort given to her when she didn’t deserve them.

At the aisle, she glanced up and saw the man in the wheelchair making his way to the exit as well. Somehow, that made her feel better. If he was leaving as she was, then she couldn’t be mistaken about what she felt in there, could she? If someone else saw through the charlatan as she thought she had, then maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Or maybe he had seen her get up to leave and had followed so he could tell her off for staring at him. She hurried faster, desperate to avoid any kind of confrontation with him. But as soon as she was out the double doors and heading across the lobby, she heard someone call out to her. Or she assumed they were calling out to her.

Maybe the male voice calling, Hey, hold up, was talking to someone else? She didn’t dare look behind her to find out. Instead, she sped up, so she was almost trotting to the exit.

Before she made it to the doors, a wheelchair drew alongside her, and she recognized the handsome man she’d been staring at. How had he pushed his chair so fast? Maybe it was motorized? Of course, that was it. He had a motorized chair, so he didn’t have to push himself long distances.

Hey, please stop. I want to talk to you, he said, looking up and across at her.

No motor! He pushed the wheels himself. How could he do that? Sure, his upper-body looked solid and muscular, but the distance he’d covered in such a short time was too much for even the fittest man.

Not wanting him to have to keep going at that speed, she slowed to a standstill just as she reached the outside doors. It was February. Winter. And though this was California, once she stepped outside, it would be too cold to stand in one place for long.

Thanks. I was pushing it there to catch you up. I wanted to see if you were leaving for the same reason I was.

Now she was paying attention, she noticed his accent. Australian, New Zealander or South African? One of those. Definitely not American. What was he doing here?

Sorry. I ... I didn’t realize you were calling to me, she lied. I ... I... didn’t know who was calling...

She stammered to a halt and began twisting her hands together, as she always did when overwhelmed with nervousness.

"Yeah, my fault. I didn’t know your name, and it seemed poor form to yell, Hey you, the pretty redhead, hold up there! "

She blanched at his words. Was he being sarcastic or just flattering her because he wanted something?

My name is Cooper Adams. And I’m no threat to you, I promise. There’s nothing more harmless than a guy in a wheelchair. The way he said harmless made it sound more like he meant pathetic. Her heart reached out to him.

I ... I’m not afraid of you. I ... I wasn’t running away from you or anything. Well, maybe I was, but not because I thought ... I wasn’t afraid of you, physically.

She saw her mistake as soon as the words came out of her babbling mouth. She’d just reinforced his sense of being harmless and pathetic. But instead of dwelling on the unintended insult, Cooper focused in on her other words.

Why were you running from me then? he challenged a little more forcefully.

Here it came. He was about to let loose on her for staring at him. Making him feel like a laughingstock.

She cringed away, almost feeling the impact of those words before he’d said them. She was so tired of people hurting her. So damned tired. Couldn’t just one person in the world be nice to a stupid, ugly girl like her? It wasn’t like she tried to be those things. If trying counted for anything, she’d be intelligent and beautiful by now.

Hey, Cooper said, his tone more gentle this time. Hey, I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s okay.

Kindness and gentleness? Was she imagining it, because she needed him to be those things? She took the chance to glance over at him, bracing herself to see a leer. What she saw took her breath away. Concern. His sensitive, handsome face showed only concern. For her.

It gave her confidence to answer him.

I thought you were going to yell at me, she admitted in a small voice.

It surprised her he heard her. Yell at you? For what?

She shrugged and looked at the closed door in front of her. Just one more step and she could be through them. Just one more step and she could be on the street, hailing a cab, and leaving this handsome man with his concerned face behind forever. She didn’t need this. She didn’t know how to handle this.

For the first time in forever, she’d taken a risk, stepped out of her corner and done something she knew would bring punishment down on her. Now, that one decision was morphing into more and more choices, more and more chances to get it wrong and be in trouble.

What could she do but go along with it now? Follow the path as best she could.

For staring at you. It was rude. I’m sorry. It wasn’t because you’re in a wheelchair. It was just that you were alone, like me. Did you notice that everyone else seemed to have friends with them?

Yeah, I noticed. But I’m used to it. Doesn’t bother me. Actually, it’s a bit of a relief. For years, I had nothing but people hovering over me, falling all over themselves, trying to meet my every need.

That surprised her. But when she thought more about it, Amy realized she understood. She knew what it felt like to be treated as if you weren’t capable. And that’s what Cooper was saying. They made him feel as if he wasn’t capable of looking after himself.

Amy felt the heat of a blush creeping up her neck, and the mortification only sped its progress. Wringing her hands again, she tried to repeat the eight-times-table in her head. It was the one she found the hardest to remember. When she focused on it, sometimes it was enough to stop the blush from taking hold.

Yelling at you for staring at me was the farthest thing from my mind. I was staring just as much at you, but you just didn’t notice. I guess pretty girls don’t. Comes with the territory.

Please stop flattering me. You don’t have to do that, she snapped, before grimacing at her rudeness.

It wasn’t flattery, like American fellas hand out at every turn. I can understand why you’d get sick of that. We Aussies pay genuine compliments or say nothing. Mostly we say nothing. Don’t want to give ourselves away, you know?

He laughed at himself. It was genuine laughter, with no cruel edge directed at either himself or her.

It was better to leave that prickly subject alone, so she changed the direction of the conversation. I wondered if you were Australian. What are you doing here? Are you on vacation?

Cooper laughed again. Look, I’m getting a crick in my neck, looking up at you. There’s a coffee shop next door. Can I buy you a coffee while I tell you everything you need to know...? Did you intentionally not tell me your name? That’s cool, if you don’t want to tell me. I could be a stalker, I guess.

She smiled down at him. Yes, she was making him look up, and that must be painful after a while. Another choice to make.

Amy Hays. My name is Amy Hays. And coffee would be nice. I didn’t want to go home so early, anyway.

Yeah, know the feeling. So, Miss Amy Hays, shall we go? He pressed a button at the automatic doors and they glided open.

Amy led the way out into the chilly night.

CHAPTER TWO

It was obvious that the coffee shop next door serviced the small convention center, because it displayed posters for all the shows happening there. Amy stopped in front of Alejandro Marquez’s flier. It was the one that had attracted Cooper’s attention when he was browsing the paper over breakfast that morning. There was a picture of Marquez, dressed in