Taken By Storm Read online

  Table of Contents

  Taken by Storm

  Publication Page

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also Available

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Also Read

  Thank You

  Taken by Storm

  by

  LJ Vickery

  Immortals

  Book II

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

  Taken by Storm

  COPYRIGHT © 2015 by LJ Vickery

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2015

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0265-2

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0266-9

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To my husband, my mother, and my mother in law

  for their unending patience and support.

  I love you all!

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  LJ Vickery

  AND HER BOOKS

  ROCK HARD: IMMORTALS BOOK I

  “A remarkable blend of other worldly characters, history, romance and humor. Full of surprises. Looking forward for the next story to unfold. A great beach read!”

  ~M. Meade

  “With the launch of book one of her Immortals series, we are witnessing the birth of a master story teller. Swirling history and the present with sparkling mythology, a testosterone-saturated brotherhood, and a tasty lick of lust, Rock Hard is beach—and snowstorm!—reading at its best. LJ Vickery has created a world of compelling characters in the greatest sense of the word…I cannot wait to see what the Immortals are going to do or say next! BRING THEM ON!!!”

  ~Love Albrecht Howard, author of

  So You Want to be a Garden Designer

  Prologue

  Blue Hills, Massachusetts

  Present Day

  Thunder crashed, and Anshar pulled a second pillow over his head, groaning. It had been two days since the god, Marduk, and Tess, his Chosen, had completed the amulet ceremony. From that moment on, they hadn’t let up. Not that sex was such a bad thing. It only sucked when you couldn’t have any. It also sucked that the thunder god was so out of control he couldn’t keep his discharges quiet.

  Anshar didn’t blame his best-god chum. If Anshar had a woman like Tess, and the ability to pleasure her in bed all day, he’d be out of control too. The problem was, he didn’t…and he couldn’t. Anshar didn’t have a woman, had never had one, and wouldn’t dare to mate, even if he miraculously regained his body someday.

  Anshar, the god of the whole sky—which meant he could change meteorological conditions in a blink; make a sunny sky suddenly roil with storm clouds or clear a dense fog with blinding speed—was one of ten gods anxiously scrambling to find the secrets that would make them corporeal again.

  Marduk and the wind god Enlil had already achieved physical status. Enlil’s was still tied to being within a hundred yards of Tess or her brother Huxley because of their blood ties, but Marduk’s nontangible tribulations were completely over. Since the amulet ceremony, he could become substantial at will, whenever, wherever. All made possible because Tess was Marduk’s Chosen. And Enlil? Well, he was the lucky bastard who had bedded a babe back in ye olde Merrymount, 1620-ish, and unknowingly knocked the pilgrim up. He then began a direct god-blood line to Tess and Huxley, which was his key to fleshing out.

  Hence, Anshar’s second problem of the day. The gods needed to track down all of their living blood descendants to see if more mortals had the power, like Tess, to make them embodied. They were convening in the meeting room—renamed the war room since Dagon, their once good-buddy-god-turned-bad, had reappeared—a large, atrium-like area with comfy chairs in fifteen minutes. They were about to play a friendly game of “Who’d You Screw?”

  Each god was to search their brains and remember women from 384 years ago whom they could have impregnated. For some, like ultra-naughty Absu, who the women had swooned over, the number could be vast, and the chances of him remembering names would be slim. Then there was Ishkur, who had remained true to one woman in the early Quincy settlement. He, at least, could render completely accurate information.

  Anshar was having none of the god’s bullshit. Everybody assumed, because of his flagrant charm, that Anshar had bedded countless women. Divulging that he was still a virgin was not on his top-ten list of favorite activities. If he went to the meeting and bluffed, his brothers would smell the lie on him and his street cred would drop like Bernie Madoff’s. Not going to chance it.

  Heading out for a ghost-walk while the boys bragged was his usual modus operandi, and it wouldn’t be any different today. He donned jeans and a T-shirt, the dress code they had all adopted since non-invisibility had proven possible. He slipped from the house, which Tess had dubbed the Teensy-Taj, and drifted out into the morning.

  Chapter One

  Lenore couldn’t understand why Dagon had put her on field duty. This was a supreme waste of her talents, particularly since she could be back in Plymouth handing the raw recruits their asses after she spiked them in the end-zone. Not that she doubted her second in command, Matthew, could take care of things. He had stepped up his game remarkably since Dagon appeared on the scene. Who knew the once-spoiled brat would have it in him to not only hold his own but also cover her back when she needed it most. She was still pissed off that he’d stabbed Marduk’s woman, Tess, during a previous encounter that had gone wrong, but he’d apologized for his lapse in judgment, and Lenore believed he was sincere.

  It still didn’t explain why she was here. Lenore had been dispatched immediately after reporting to Dagon that she’d been in the gods’ home. Back to the area near their compound in the woods of the Blue Hills, watching birds and leaves, because the gods’ home was disguised and protected to keep prying eyes and feet from entering. If she hadn’t been previously escorted out by Tess’s brother, Huxley, she wouldn’t have known it was here either. Maybe that’s why Dagon sent her. The bozos who accompanied her now might have spent all day watching the wrong clump
of trees.

  She eased back to squat, leaning onto her heels, thankful for the tough, leather shit-kickers on her feet. Her usual fare was six-inch spikes to give more flash to the miniskirts she favored, but in the woods, khaki shorts and a T-shirt worked well with the big boots.

  She stifled a yawn. The restless nights sleeping in a hammock hung between two trees were catching up with her, not to mention the nonstop thunder and lightning with no rain. What was up with that, anyway?

  A flash of color high up in the trees caught her eye. She must be more tired than she thought. Lenore rubbed hands over her face and moved closer. There it was again, one hundred yards to her right. She moved quickly, signaling for two of her men to quietly follow. If her brain hadn’t been mistaken, she’d just seen a guy—a god—pacing in the sky.

  Anshar fell with a crash.

  “What the fuck? Ouch!” He’d landed on a big-ass, pointy stump and his hip split open. The pain was unbearable…and he was instantly filled with elation. He hurt! Lowering a hand to where the wood had pierced his thigh, Anshar laughed. He bled! My gods, he had his body! He tried to catch his breath; and what a breath it was. He inhaled the crisp wetness of the woods. He tasted the coppery tang of dirt that mixed with his blood, and he smelled…perfume? A heavenly scent like orange blossoms.

  Anshar twisted around, becoming alert with the snapping of nearby twigs. Striding toward him, knife drawn, was a woman of diminutive stature filled out with well-defined curves. A look of intense purpose mantled her lovely face. Brown eyes, thought Anshar? Hazel? No, blazing green…and long platinum hair that brushed her ample ass. Lust at first sight.

  The front of his jeans suddenly felt tight. Shit! Hard on! Keep it under control, big boy, he warned himself, although he knew it would be a losing battle. This was the first time he’d had a cock-stand in more than 300 years. He called out as she approached.

  “Who are you?” Anshar’s gaze took in this fantasy babe, approaching with her two buddies. He wanted to get up and touch her, but was still impaled on a piece of wood, which was probably for the best. The woman’s lip curled up on one side in obvious disgust.

  “We’re your worst nightmare.” She smiled, signaling to her companions.

  A tranquilizer dart hit Anshar square in the jugular and, with his last coherent brain cell, he thought, elves with attitude?

  Anshar’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he was out.

  “How long will that keep him down?” Lenore questioned the marksman at her side.

  He shrugged. “Dagon made the dose. It’s a concoction of his own, so we’re not sure.”

  Lenore gestured that her henchman should move the body.

  “He did say it was laced with elephant tranquilizer.” The sniper grunted at the dead weight. “So we shouldn’t have any trouble getting him back to Plymouth.”

  Lenore watched her companion’s unsuccessful attempts to haul the big body off the stump. He only managed to rip the gash in the god’s leg even more.

  “You three!” She signaled to another group of men. “A little help here. We need this guy in the car, pronto.”

  She wasn’t taking any chances that the immortal would wake up. Lenore had previously witnessed two of these guys in action and wasn’t keen to make mistakes with this one.

  “And clean up this blood completely! I don’t want anyone knowing we have him.”

  ****

  Inside the compound, the gaming group was attending to Marduk’s meeting and busy cursing the absent, all sky god.

  “Where the fuck is Anshar?” Enlil was pissed.

  “He fails us with his absence,” Absu agreed irately. “His list should be nigh on as long as mine.”

  “He probably didn’t want to brag.” Marduk was through with a succinct but satisfying census of his former lovers. He watched the others struggle to recall memories that, in most cases, didn’t come easily.

  The only other god absent was Emesh, and nobody questioned why he wasn’t around. There had been no women for the summer god. His sexual preferences were not a secret, and his lifestyle choices were accepted. Marduk wondered how this ancestral progeny thing would work out for him.

  Emesh! Marduk called to the absent god with the mind connection they all enjoyed. See if you can find Anshar. Tell him we need his list.

  You’ve got it boss-baby!

  The suppositions and squabbling continued in the war room, some gods claiming the same women, some doubting others’ accounts of their successes.

  “No way you got the corset off of that one!”

  “I thought she was stitched into her chemise for good!”

  “That one wouldn’t have tupped…”

  Emesh appeared and looked decidedly upset.

  “What is it?” Marduk lifted his head from perusing a now usable list.

  “Someone’s been here,” Emesh reported. “There’s evidence of a camp outside our boundaries and a whole lot of tire tracks.”

  “Did you find Anshar?” Marduk scowled. Perhaps the sky god had seen something.

  “No. Not a sign of him anywhere.”

  Marduk got up quickly and, with gods behind him, raced to the computer control center of the house where he had Lahar play back a surveillance video. Marduk saw Anshar leaving the compound but not returning.

  “Fuck!” Marduk swore. Beyond the perimeter of the force field, no cameras recorded. He was at a complete loss as to what had befallen Anshar.

  Chapter Two

  Lenore, comfortable finally in her miniskirt and heels, bit her lip as she gazed at the sleeping, bound god ensconced in Dagon’s jail cell in the basement of their Plymouth headquarters. She studied his face as he slumbered. He had a strong, square jaw and high cheekbones. His face looked young but oddly careworn with a crease between his light brows. He wore his thick blond hair, which was suffused with a riot of copper and sable, gathered into a ponytail at his neck. Lenore remembered vivid, aqua eyes that had been surprisingly forgiving as he had succumbed to the tranquilizer.

  Her scrutiny continued down over the short-sleeve black cotton T-shirt that hugged his wide chest, then over to the unusual and intricately wrought silver cuff that encircled his enormous bicep. Wasn’t that just sexy as hell? She had this inexplicable, yet insatiable urge to touch it…and every other part of him. Who would know? Dagon had yet to install cameras in the small cell, and she had been left all alone with the prisoner for the night.

  Tentatively, and feeling profoundly scandalous, Lenore wanted to get a good look at the god…up close and personal. She lifted the material from Anshar’s taut abdomen and peeled it up over his pecs, revealing tanned skin. She gasped. He was deeply scarred with four distinct slashes across his chest. Lenore couldn’t help herself but ran her fingers lightly over the raised ridges of the old injuries, startled when she heard a hitch in his breathing. She snatched her hand away from his shirt, still bunched at his neck, and backed away. Would her captive wake up? She waited several long minutes, but there was no additional movement. Lenore inched forward to have another look. He had no chest hair. She liked that.

  Lenore eyed his zipper. Could she be so bold? His skin called to her. Heat slid through her veins that she had never felt before. What was happening? Was this visceral response some kind of god thing? She wanted—no, needed—to see the immortal on the table…all of him…and with him knocked out, this might be her only chance. Staring hard at the front of his jeans, Lenore noticed that even at rest, the size of the bulge under his zipper was significant. Her mouth went dry. Why was she suddenly so wicked?

  Anshar thought he had been dreaming when a soft hand caressed the marks on his chest, but as he came back to full consciousness, he became aware that he was not alone. Cautiously, he kept his eyes closed, and his respiration steady. It was important to assess the situation before anyone became mindful that he was awake.

  He let his acute senses loose and discovered only one individual. He could feel the space being taken up and hear quick exhal
ations. Strange, the human—he perceived no immortality—seemed agitated. He breathed deeply and remembered joyously that he was no longer invisible. He inhaled strongly again.

  Orange blossoms! The essence surely came from the exquisite blonde who had something to do with his current predicament. And it was a predicament. He was bound, hand and foot, to some kind of a table, but that didn’t worry him. His strength would allow him to easily break free whenever he chose. His concern was for the discomfort he felt where a collar encircled his neck. This could be bad. Dagon had used just such a collar to subdue Marduk, and it was inescapable. Not only that, it compelled the wearer to obey any order given by a captor. If that was what he felt around his neck, bad shit could happen.

  He was, therefore, shocked when a warm hand tucked beneath the button of his jeans and tugged it free. What was the woman doing?

  Excitement battled with terror as he anticipated those green eyes, those luscious orbs fringed with thick lashes, running over his exposed cock—which would be coming out any minute—unless he was imagining things. Would she stroke him or torture him? There was no way he could keep his eyes closed.

  The woman had lowered his zipper no more than half an inch, when he gave in to temptation and popped his lids open. The blonde jerked back, color rioting across her cheeks. Hah! Caught. What would she say to him? Just checking for medical purposes to see if you’re fully intact. Anshar snorted. Damn! He wished he hadn’t opened his eyes and made her back off. She’d been working herself into quite the pickle. Oh yeah, he smirked, unable to quell his amusement…quite the pickle. She continued to watch in fascination as his cock grew hard in his jeans beneath her heated stare.

  Anshar was beginning to feel much better.

  “You want to touch it?” he asked cheekily. The woman was completely unaware that he was ninety-nine percent bluster, thank the gods. This wasn’t a situation he’d ever found himself in before. Not only had he regained his body—something he was pretty freaked out about considering the implications—but the person responsible for his physical status had been about to get…well…physical!