BloodFeathers Read online

  Blood Feathers

  Diana Rose Wilson

  Book 4 in Forbidden Secrets series. The books should be read in order for maximum pleasure.

  Marcie has hosted sex parties for years, but has yet to find the right partner. Love has never been an option for her, but she has a soft spot for romance. Everything changes when she finds herself hopelessly entangled with Mano, a man layered in secrets, who is not what he seems. He is even more dangerous than he is beautiful.

  She is hopelessly lost in love. They can’t keep their hands off each other and the sex is intense and overwhelming. Mano takes her ever higher, satisfying her deepest desires as he helps her confront her fantastical new reality. In the whirlwind that follows, the Mistress finds herself transformed and must come to grips with the discovery of who and what she really is.

  Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

  An adult paranormal romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Blood Feathers

  Diana Rose Wilson

  Dedication

  To my family—those by blood and those by heart. Outlaws, bikers, thugs and all.

  Chapter One

  December 19, 2015

  “Do you believe in angels?” Ursa’s question didn’t exactly come out of nowhere but it still startled Marcie. Her friend had been increasingly fixated on her new research project since moving in with her boyfriend.

  “Where did that come from?” Marcie asked, smiling at the small woman as they walked up the steps of the Adler estate.

  “I have been wanting to ask you, that’s all.” Ursa adjusted her skirts, looking uncomfortable in the Valentino dress, even though it was beautiful on her. The pattern—angel wings, which had drawn Ursa to it—was fitting for their conversation during their shopping trip. Leo had to go and pick it up because she’d refused to buy it. Adorable Ursa.

  “I don’t know, Ursa. Guardian angels? Seems a little new-agey. Please tell me you’re not finding religion.”

  Ursa laughed and threaded her arm through hers with a shake of her head. “No, Marcie, not religion.” She let out a soft breath and squinted up at the house. “Let me just say I’ve been reading a lot of interesting things lately.”

  Marcie chuckled. “I’ve noticed. Are you enjoying your new library?”

  The small woman nodded, making a sound of appreciation and barely restrained joy as she looked up at her, eyes shining. “It is amazing. I…I got a few new books recently.”

  Marcie could feel the tremble run through her and she patted her friend’s hand. “Leo couldn’t extend his generosity to anyone more deserving, darling.” She loved how happy her friends were—both Ursa and Leo. There was something endearing about the way she resisted anything that cost money.

  “I think he overdoes it,” Ursa said with a swish of her long skirts. She paused to look around the courtyard space from the upper balcony. “This reminds me of the first time I went to one of your parties. Except no masks and much more clothing today.”

  Marcie turned to admire the view. From their vantage point, she could see the ocean, which was calm and quiet, with ships making their way between Angel Island and Tiburon or heading toward Sausalito. She turned back to look at the people. Men dressed in suits and tuxes mingled with women in bright cocktail dresses. People were wearing a different sort of costume here and while the sexuality was hidden, the power plays were in full effect. These games were much more complex.

  “Will you join me in the gallery?” Ursa asked. “I heard the Adlers put their artwork on display and I’d really like to see it.”

  “Not only on display, but they will auction off several pieces. Sure, we can go up there. When is Leo arriving?” Marcie smiled at her friend, hoping to ease the worry from her expression.

  “He said he’d be here when the bidding started,” Ursa murmured. “I hope he’ll make it.”

  “He will. Never doubt that man. Maybe he’ll get you something pretty to wear for Christmas.”

  Ursa shivered. “I hope not.”

  Together they walked inside, handing over their invitations and overcoats, and after securing a glass of the Domaine Carneros offered by the servers they found their way to the gallery to pick up their auction numbers and admire the items on display and on offer.

  The Adler estate was the crown jewel of the family and it eclipsed anything Marcie owned. It was still early and the room was nearly empty, allowing them to admire the displays at leisure. Although Marcie had visited before, this was Ursa’s first time and she was a ball of nervous energy.

  The empire that Dietrich Adler built. Marcie walked along beside Ursa, through the halls of family portraits marking their legacy, which stretched back hundreds of years. Marcie had never thought much about it. Her family house in Spain contained similar history on the walls—the pride of bloodlines extending back through the generations from father to son. It looked pretty, but she’d never understood why it was so important.

  Paternal bloodlines.

  Bah.

  Ursa stared up one enormous wall at the paintings as Marcie lingered behind her, not quite sure what had captivated the woman. “Do you think that’s really a relation to the CEO?” Ursa asked in a soft voice.

  “This wall is the Engel family tree, Beatrice Adler’s husband’s line,” Marcie said as she squinted up at the pictures. “That wall is the Adler line. Why?”

  “Engel means angel in German,” Ursa said very softly as she squinted up at the portraits.

  “All right.” Marcie watched her friend, hoping she would provide more information than just a translation. “I give, why does that matter?”

  Ursa pulled her attention away from the pictures and gave a small shake of her head. “I don’t know yet. Just…I don’t know.” She walked along with her head tipped back to stare up at the timeline of paintings. “You notice this line here is all mother to daughter? That’s interesting, right?”

  Marcie squinted at it. She had never paid that much attention. Now as she looked closely, she felt herself drawn in. The pictures were placed down the wall, arranged mother to daughter until it reached the current CEO, Beatrix, and her twin sister Juliette. Under those last two were paintings of their children—both male. The last of the Adler bloodline. “Yes, it is.”

  A small man with long golden hair held back in an outrageous holiday bow stood before the end paintings. Brilliant gold hair accented his upper lip and chin in a stylized goatee. The mustache was waxed to curl up at the corners and his beard was neatly pointed. His tux had elegant lines, hugging his lean frame with tailored perfection. She guessed he stood five-five but only because of the heels of his polished boots.

  Standing before a painting with his fingers laced at the small of his back, he looked so pretty. He seemed almost ethereal. There was no hiding the family resemblance to the portrait he stood before. It could be his younger, larger brother. There was a heartrending longing in the man’s silent reflection as he regarded the image.

  He let out a mournful sigh but in mid-exhale his breath caught and he coughed.

  Marcie realized she was staring at him when his head jerked in her direction. His bright silver eyes widened and she felt as if someone kicked her in the stomach. The small man bowed forward with a mixture of laughter and choked sputtering.

  Ursa was at Marcie’s side, putting her voluptuous body between her and the blond. “Are you all right? Marcie?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” Marcie gripped the front of her own dress, staring at the floor, forcing breath into her burning lungs. Her heart hammered franticly in her ribs. “My god! Oh my god! That felt—” Amazing and wonderful. Delightfully painful. She lifted her face and blinked at Ursa, who clutched her arm. “Wow.”

  Ursa stared at her. “What happened?”

  Marcie wasn’t sure she trusted her voice. She was seeing the room through a pinwheel of colors and sensations. The way the man had looked at her, she was sure she knew him. But there was no reason for the gut-wrenching sensation and she couldn’t put a name to his face. “I don’t know. That man—” She looked up, about to point to the spot down the hall, but the space was empty.

  “What man?” Ursa glanced around and then squinted up at her.

  Marcie jerked upright, heart drumming as she looked around the vacant hall. “It’s fine.” She took another long breath in and then checked her dress and hair. She did not just imagine seeing the man or the sensation of her breath being ignited inside her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Ursa asked, trailing at her side, frowning in worry.

  “Just a cough is all. Sorry, the champagne must be hitting me hard.” Marcie pulled Ursa with her to the painting the man had been looking at. Under the picture of Beatrix was the portrait of a handsome young man. A bronze plaque upon the frame was inscribed with the words “Guntram Engel. Gone but not forgotten.”

  The only beloved child of the CEO of Adler Enterprises.

  Ursa looked from the picture to Marcie, eyebrows arched up as though she expected an explanation.

  “The man was looking at this painting. This is Beatrix and Maximilian’s only child. He’s been missing for over twenty-five years.”

  “The golden boy!” Ursa gasped. “A ghost!”

  “No, darling. That wasn’t him. This man was older and smaller.” And so beautiful.

  On closer inspection the pair of paintings after Beatrix and her son were less elaborate, as if they were an afterthought. The woman in the portrait was an
exact mirror of the familiar white-haired Beatrix Engel, except with shorter hair. Juliette, the twin sister. The younger sister.

  She looked less iron-and-steel than her sister somehow. Her shoulders were not burdened with the well-being of the empire. Beneath her painting was an old image of the man she’d just seen. A cocky smile curled his lips and he looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there, lounging indolently for his portrait painting.

  Ursa pulled at her arm, smiling. “Maybe he slipped into the next room.” Eagerly she guided Marcie through the empty space but once inside the huge, silent room they were both overwhelmed by the items on display. The whole space was filled with illuminated display cases housing gem-encrusted jewelry, antiques and paintings fit for museums, not house collections.

  “Whoa,” Ursa whispered as she stopped before a large painting of a trio of Valkyrie racing with their horses across the sunset sky.

  Marcie found herself drawn to the piece too. Blinking up at the artwork, she whistled quietly. “This is amazing.” Beside the painting stood a winged helmet in gold and silver. It was pitted with wear and the patina of age. Not a simple, polished replica.

  She looked at Ursa, who stood gawking at the item, and left her to enjoy it in private while she continued on. The jewelry pieces started with small earrings of silver and gold and progressed to elaborate showpieces dripping with gemstones and diamonds. A particular necklace with large chunks of tanzanite caught her attention and she paused, partially blinded in the glare of the stones.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The deep voice rumbling at her elbow did not match the appearance of the pretty little man. He smiled at her, silver eyes twinkling, apparently pleased by her interest in the necklace.

  “It’s amazing,” Marcie answered, even more devastated by his appearance up close. He smelled like rain, fresh and bright—a lightning storm just over the horizon. It made her breath catch in a most peculiar way, not quite pain but too intense to be simple pleasure. Her toes curled in her narrow heels.

  “Translated, it’s called tribute for the sea,” he said, not looking away from her. He searched her face with a mixture of fascinated awe and excitement. “I’m Mano.” He held out his hand, long fingers offered out, and she noticed a deep-burgundy-colored birthmark on his palm.

  “Marcie Perez.” She offered her hand and felt it enfolded in his warmth as his grip curved around hers.

  “Enchanted,” he whispered over her knuckles. Bowing over her hand, he brushed a kiss to her skin. The tickle of his facial hair sent a sharp pang of desire through her. Magnetized, that’s what she was, pulled in by him like natural attraction between them.

  “Please, tell me you don’t work here,” he whispered, stepping closer, looking up at her through his thick golden lashes.

  “Ah, from time to time I do,” she murmured. “Corporate lawyer for Adler and her subsidiaries.”

  A look of profound disappointment twisted his handsome features and his body tensed. She could feel his response as surely as if she’d slapped his face. “And you must have come with a date.” His wide mouth curved into a sensual smile.

  Marcie squeezed the hand still holding hers. “No.” She delighted in admitting it, enjoying his look of genuine shock. “I’m here with friends.” She glanced over her shoulder to where Ursa was slowly making her way down the displays.

  “You’re here with the little messenger? You travel in powerful circles.”

  “The what?” Marcie wanted to laugh but his expression remained intensely serious.

  “Messenger. Runner. She-who-sees.” He pursed his lips when none of those names triggered a response from her. “Ah. I see.” A pause followed by another layer of disappointment. “Are you certain you work with my auntie?”

  “Your aunt is Beatrix Engel?” Even as she asked, she knew it was true. He had the same intense eyes and golden hair as the woman had in her youth, before it turned white. It clicked as to why he’d been looking at the picture in the hall. She knew better than anyone how painful it was to miss family during the holidays. “Of course. Well, I don’t work with her directly very often.”

  “Better for you that way.” He nodded toward Ursa, curled his fingers with hers when she didn’t draw away, and suggested, “Introduce us? She looks like her little jaw is going to hit the floor if we don’t rescue her.”

  Even as he asked, Ursa looked over at them, her hazel eyes round as plates. Her mouth really was hanging open. She’d stood before a tapestry of a hunt complete with a winged woman in an ornate helm much like the piece on display.

  “M-Marcie?” Ursa rasped out, staring at the blond man before blinking rapidly as she gripped the catalog in both hands.

  Mano laughed with genuine pleasure and offered Marcie his arm. “Adorable.”

  He gallantly escorted her to Ursa’s side. Although Marcie was easily a head taller than the man, nothing except his height seemed small. She could feel his strength under her fingers, his body tight beneath the expensive suit.

  “Ursa, this is Mano. Mano, my dear friend Ursa Myller.”

  “Mano Engel?” Ursa squeaked, balling her hands tighter around the catalog, staring hard at the man as though he’d grown a second head.

  “Mano Ka’aukai,” he corrected, bowing low and pressing his fist to his chest. The gesture was intense and formal. Like a military salute.

  Ursa looked like a fish for a moment, mouth moving, gawking from him to Marcie several times before she remembered to snap her lips closed. Her fingers fluttered as though she were trying to put her thoughts to words but nothing quite fit together, and she made a little excited sound in the back of her throat.

  Mano glanced at the tapestry that captivated her and then back to Ursa with a generous smile behind the sexy curl of his mustache. “It is an inspired piece, but the one in the dining room is even more impressive. Do you work for my auntie as well?” His hand remained covering Marcie’s where it rested on his forearm, and he stroked along her knuckles in a familiar, sensual caress.

  She wanted to melt against him and feel more of the contact of his body with hers. Did he know what that touch did to her? Even when she leaned in closer and brushed the curve of her breast subtly against his arm, he didn’t flick an eyelash of notice.

  “N-no. I—” Ursa straightened and seemed to push her wandering thoughts away. “My d-date does though. Leo Wolfe.”

  Understanding gleamed in Mano’s silvery eyes as he smiled. “That makes perfect sense.”

  “You know Leo?” they asked together.

  “I know of him. I admit I don’t pay much attention to my auntie’s empire. I’m just a silly boy after all, but…the name and reputation are familiar to me. He is a very lucky man.”

  Ursa flushed deeply and sputtered as she ducked her head. “That’s very k-kind of you to say. I think I’m the lucky one.”

  “Then you are both doubly blessed.” Mano smiled and then pursed his lips and turned slightly. “You should have him see the sword on display,” he suggested, motioning lazily off to one of the side displays. “It’s not to be missed.”

  Ursa’s eyes went very round and she looked from Mano to Marcie again, appearing to be on the verge of asking something, but she bit back the comment and put on a smile. “Sure. Yeah. I will t-tell him.”

  “Tell him what?” Leo’s voice rumbled out as the big man came into view. Leo Wolfe was a six-foot-seven-plus, pure-dark-chocolate handsome gentleman. In his tux, he must have made women swoon dead away on his way there. He gave polite nods to everyone and then smiled with dazzling delight at Ursa, opening his arms to her.

  It was like a light going on in the room. The small woman barely suppressed her cry of happiness and flung herself into the waiting arms. He easily swooped her off her feet and into a tight hug and kiss.

  “You do good work,” Mano murmured to Marcie, turning his head so his breath whispered along her bare shoulder and arm, his gaze gleaming up at her.

  “How did you know?” she asked, averting her eyes from the public affection as the couple embraced and kissed.

  “I can see it, of course,” he said with amusement and smoothed his fingertips over the back of her hand. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed the spot he’d caressed. “It looks like your friends are busy. Want to ditch them with a delinquent?”