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  PRIMAL NEEDS

  AMBER ROSE THOMPSON

  ISBN 9781615087952

  All rights reserved

  Copyright Amber Rose Thompson

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information:

  http://SizzlerEditions.com/Submission

  Sizzler/Submission Bondage

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  2

  CONTENTS

  BECOMING

  SECRET TO KEEP

  3

  BECOMING

  4

  CHAPTER ONE

  Constantine angled the chauffeur's cap down to shade his eyes from

  the setting sun. Behind the darkest of sunglasses, his eyes watered to

  prevent corneas from splitting. A few more minutes of pain, then the

  sun's rays would be below the horizon.

  He leaned his back against the limousine, and felt the car shudder

  as his weight bore down from an angle the designer's never intended.

  Methodically he clenched and unclenched his hands, muscles flexing

  under a jacket already stretched to the maximum, causing seams to

  snap a few threads in defeat.

  Waiting was the worst when it involved the hellhole of L.A. days.

  Rome was far better with the subterranean tombs and vaults. He

  missed Rome. L.A. only had water under the soil, what a waste of a

  large land mass with so many inhabitants. But L.A. was where she

  was, and he'd tracked her here from Rome.

  His cell phone buzzed.

  Reaching into the inner pocket of the jacket, he flicked the phone

  on without hesitation. As his mouth opened to speak, his body went

  rigid and straight. Game time, he licked his lips quickly, before

  resuming the chauffeur appearance of understated indifference.

  "Speak, it's clear." He checked himself. Playing the minion was

  grating on his nerves. "I mean the line is clear, Sir. She hasn't

  summoned me yet." He chuckled throatily; making sure the phone

  was far enough away not to pick up on his vocal vibrations.

  "You in place?"

  Constantine heard the sweat beading up on the man's skin from

  across the phone. Did the man even know Constantine scared him?

  Probably not. Joe Smith, as Constantine nicknamed him, couldn't deal

  rationally with fear and would chalk it up to high blood pressure.

  "Yes, Sir." Constantine tried a salute, but found it too humorous to

  bother.

  "Where are you?"

  The guy really thought you kidnapped a high ranking business

  woman by talking directly to the hired thug? "I'm outside the Palmer

  5

  building standing by the limousine. The secretary called me to be

  here in ten minutes."

  "So you're early?"

  Give the big man a bone. He got one without too much mental

  ordeal. "That's correct, sir."

  "Good, make sure you take no detours and bring her directly to the

  holding location. See to it her cell phone is disabled. We can't afford

  her alerting the authorities."

  Well, duh. Really this man didn't deserve to get his hands on

  Helena Palmer, and he wouldn't. "Of course, sir, all taken care of."

  The phone went quiet in his hand. Constantine didn't have to look

  at the phone to speed dial Jason. The connection crackled then went

  clear, probably the damn sun polluting the airways.

  "Constantine."

  "We are a go." Constantine felt his legs take the last brunt of the

  sun and his eyes begin to dilate back into the comfort range.

  "Do I make ready for you tonight or wait? I'm already at the

  warehouse. Men can be here in twenty."

  Constantine had hired Jason on a whim and kept him around for

  intelligence. Constantine suspected Jason could turn alpha were the

  situation right. Jason was too good at second guessing him for a spark

  of telepathy not to be present, waiting to ignite. Jason was good,

  maybe too good for them to continue working together much longer.

  "Call them in." Constantine's eyes squinted, trying to shut out the

  sun.

  "Normal protocol? Or special care?"

  "Special care, this one will be devourable. I want ones with total

  control." Constantine forced his eyes open.

  * * * *

  Helena Palmer rolled the red scrunchy down her hand and cinched

  it around her wavy hair, pulling red curls up away from her neck. The

  white of her skin bespoke failure in getting herself out of the office to

  enjoy a good baking in the summer sun.

  Her invisible arm hairs prickled at the thought of heat flushing her

  peach skin into cardinal red burns. Sometimes a little pain was worth

  6

  it. Afterwards, she'd have the most luscious tingles and itches that

  made her take notice of every inch of her body. There would be no

  problem sitting erect for days on end after one hour of being bikini-

  clad in the surf.

  She kicked off one of her black satin pumps to bury her foot in the

  carpet and imagine sand seeping up between toes with the squelch of

  trapped water brimming over and sucking her foot down further into

  muck. It was so close. If she opened her window and leaped over a

  few buildings there she would be, just her, sand, and the waves

  drowning out the incessant chatter of boardroom meetings and

  whispered secret knives already unsheathed.

  Looking at her watch, she put her shoe back on. The moving hands

  of the watch confirmed what her view said, the sun was setting and

  another day missed of seeing the ocean without plate glass between

  her and the salty air.

  At this rate, she'd be lucky if she ate dinner at home. Nothing

  tempted her growling stomach that didn't have the added crunch of

  sand whipped into it from a stiff breeze picking up white foam and

  tossing it onto the beach.

  She cuffed the side of each bronze highlighted cheek to bring her

  mind back into the game. Sand would have to wait; she had an

  acquisition to prepare for. Come tomorrow, she would be adding

  Clark Trading to the group of assets her family commandeered.

  L.A. was losing one more start-up business, and Palmer Enterprises

  gaining another brokerage. All that stood in the way of an easy and

  quick acquisition process was convincing the losers they were being

  merged into Palmer Enterprises rather than eviscerated.

  Helena bent her long neck from side to side, enjoying each pop and

  grind her vertebrae made as the discs relinquished the vise grip lock

  on her spine and let her slip back into the chair, her feet no longer

  touching the floor. Inadvertently a sigh escaped her tight lips and her

  head lolled back until it hit the high back of her chair. And she was

  back on the job.

  Moving to the edge of her chair, she shifted old papers out of the

  way, and moved a new pile into her prime focus point. It was time to

  7

  decide which marketing letter to use tomorrow for employees coming

  into Clark Trading and discovering they were assets of Palmer

  Enterprises.r />
  A smile flicked across her lips before settling back to a monotone

  expression. She woke her screen up from sleep mode and watched as

  the network absorbed the Clark mainframe and altered calculations to

  include the new juicy bits she'd just fed into the coffers.

  Her nostrils flared a bit longer than her smile had lasted, and her

  stomach churned along with the alterations in the daily tallies. She

  hungered for meat, the rawer the better. She pulled her pinpoint stare

  away from the computer and fanned out the marketing letters.

  No one reading the letter was going to care about artful writing, no

  matter how many times they read and reread the letter after the initial

  adrenaline wore off. What they wanted to know was if their

  paychecks stopped or not. Hell with it, any one would do.

  She took the letter from the bottom of the pile and brought it to the

  top. It would keep the masses subdued long enough for the new

  manager's welcome speech.

  A sharp rap on her door saved the chosen letter from being

  mutilated by her spindle. The door opened without her having to

  address the intrusion. Backlit by the brighter lights outside, her

  secretary stood framed by the door with Helena's jacket over an arm

  and purse and brief case in hand.

  Reny stepped in far enough to be officially inside and no further.

  "Your jacket and purse, ma'am."

  Helena's face remained motionless.

  Reny stood firm under the watchful interrogation.

  "I see that. The question is why you have my jacket and purse. I

  did not ask for them." Helena folded her arms on the desk, crushing

  the rejected letters.

  "Yesterday you told me you were to be evicted from your office by

  7 PM whether you summoned me or not." Reny held her arm away

  from her body so the jacket remained uncreased.

  8

  "And you decided to enter my lair without permission." Helena

  opened up a drawer to her left and shifted amidst the contents, then

  closed it.

  "I figured either way I could lose, ma'am, so I went with the last

  direct order you gave me. I couldn't figure out a way to evict you

  without coming in."

  Helena pushed her chair back and stood up. "How long have you

  been working for me?" She marched around the desk to face Reny off

  a body's length away.

  "Three years, ma'am." Her stiff hands prevented the purse from

  swaying.

  "Add a note to tomorrow's schedule. Put down I am to give you a

  raise. Oh and send the top letter to marketing for final write up." She

  took the briefcase and purse from Reny and moved around the

  motionless girl.

  Reny snapped in place behind Helena's heels, following her boss

  out into the foyer and pushing the elevator button before Helena

  needed to. "The chauffeur is at the main entrance. I will call down to

  let him know you are a minute away."

  Helena moved into the elevator without answering; she turned

  around and caught a last sight of Reny's stoic face before the doors

  sealed her in and shot her down to the main floor automatically. The

  girl had definite potential. Time to up her task list and see how she

  coped at commanding and delegation.

  Doors opened for her as she walked out of the building. She

  stopped short on the sidewalk when what she expected to see differed

  with reality. The standard sedan, of which they owned three, wasn't

  there. Instead, a stretch limousine monopolized the drop-off zone,

  forcing pedestrian traffic to find an alternative method off the curb

  rather than the ramp.

  Nina, no, Reny, was good. Just what did the girl have in mind? The

  hulk of a chauffeur towered over the top of the car, even nicer touch.

  Had Reny handpicked him from the agency? He certainly wasn't one

  of the chauffeurs on the payroll.

  9

  A body like that wasn't forgettable. She would wager a good bet

  that he walked silently like a big cat on the prowl and could clear a

  sidewalk without even a glance. He was someone she could definitely

  use around more, very nice.

  She watched the jacket fail to hide the lines of his bulging muscles.

  Just who or what was he intending to pounce on? Now here was a guy

  she should have at Clark tomorrow to keep the payroll in check.

  She found her tongue fighting to get past teeth to lick her lips.

  Down tongue, not in daylight where enemies could be watching. Her

  nostrils wriggled. Why?

  She detested cologne; it masked the real smell of a man. As he got

  closer, her nostril could not be stilled, and her stomach growled, or

  was that her throat? Reny was definitely getting a raise tomorrow, and

  double what she'd originally intended.

  His hand engulfed the handle of the rear door and ratcheted it open.

  She almost felt pity for the metal under his grip, almost. She couldn't

  help but wonder what that grip would do to bone and sinew for both

  good and bad. He screamed bodyguard in the making, and her father

  had been on to her to get one with the last batch of threats against her.

  He tipped his cap at her while opening the door. Stepping back to

  let her in, his jacket brushed the tips of her fingers. It had to be static

  electricity, but Helena would have sworn her body jolted back a step

  or two. Could blood percolate, because something like soda water

  swished through her veins?

  She tried pulling herself together to get into the car with dignity,

  but his hand came out to hold her arm, steadying her as she ducked

  inside and sat down. Sweat formed where his hand was, sealing her

  silk top and jacket together, so she felt like her clothing shrank while

  her lungs worked overtime.

  It wasn't until the door closed on her, and she tracked the shadows

  through the shaded windows stating his location, that she noticed

  there was a glass of champagne poured for her and that she no longer

  had her purse. When the hell had he taken it? This was certainly not

  normal protocol?

  10

  She was formulating a complaint when her mind registered three

  things coming together so quickly she would have sworn it was

  mechanically controlled. The backseat doors locked, the window

  between her and the driver closed, and the car started.

  Well he didn't waste any time in performing his duties, though she

  would have to censure him on absconding with her purse, at least her

  briefcase was still with her. Not his place to think what she would

  need, even if he was right. That was definitely a spark of forward

  thinking she would be strangling before much more time passed.

  The car revved into park mode. Curiosity rarely was an attribute

  blamed on her, but exactly where was he taking her? It wasn't Reny's

  job to decide her destination, but with the champagne and limousine

  clearly the girl had something in mind and well the night was young.

  How much was the guy behind the wheel willing to do for his

  payment? She pushed the talk button. "What time were you

  scheduled for?" She needed a few basics to formulate a plan.

  "As long as it takes."
<
br />   To the point, very attractive and so full of innuendos. Was Reny

  really this good at calculating her needs? There was only one way to

  find out. After all, rest and relaxation always required a bit of

  extracurricular activity and a good orgasm would do just the trick.

  His body screamed the ability to hold out until she was satiated.

  Clearly he could hold her down if needed so she didn't dislodge a

  shoulder or hip.

  She pushed the talk button again. "To the Seaside Hilton then." It

  wasn't plausible to take him home like a good little puppy trained to

  lick appropriately, but the Hilton knew well enough to keep a room at

  the ready for her and to have all eyes covered.

  * * * *

  She was looking around. Her shoulder and head twitches declared

  she was calculating her placement, trapped animal or safe zone? God

  she was gorgeous. Through the rearview mirror, Constantine watched

  her check him out then turn her head away.

  He forced his hands to clench around the steering wheel then open.

  One clench, two, three, shit, four, five, six. He couldn't let her get to

  11

  him. He needed to repeat the gesture. Seven, eight nine, he could do

  this.

  And ten.

  The glass and plastic between them was nothing more than a wisp

  of mist that could be cleared with a good blow of his primed knuckles.

  This close, nothing prevented her scent from filling up the car and his

  nostrils. He really didn't need more proof, but the spiked champagne

  was clear cut, not even the strongest of his desires could contrive up

  such evidence for his wants. If it took her down...

  She leaned back into the plush seat now, unbuttoning her blazer.

  Her shoulders rolled back, straining the top button of her blouse the

  button struggling to keep her breasts covered from his eyes. Strapless

  bra, interesting, she didn't like to be confined more than necessary.

  His pants tightened, and he had to shift in the seat, which reminded

  him the car was still in park. He didn't want to start up until she had

  taken the first sip, but how much longer was she going to make him

  wait?

  There it was. Her fingers moved to the glass, stopping to feel the

  coolness on her fingers and luxuriate in what was about to cross her