Sarazen's Fury (A Sarazen Saga Novel Book 5) Read online

  CONTENTS

  Copyright © 2019 Isabel Wroth

  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

  Author’s Notes

  Copyright © 2019 Isabel Wroth

  All rights reserved.

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher and/or author is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This book was formatted using Kindle Create, and the gorgeous cover art was made by Maria Spada

  More Books By Isabel Wroth

  The Sarazen Saga

  Sarazen’s Claim

  Sarazen’s Vengeance

  Sarazen’s Betrayal

  Sarazen’s Hunt

  Sarazen’s Fury

  The Etheric Travelers Series

  Awakening

  Beguiling- Coming Soon

  Perdition MC

  Never Ever

  Athena’s Raid

  Ripley’s Saint

  Dillon’s Universe- Coming Soon!

  The Golden Bulls of Minos

  Queen’s Ransom

  The Valos Of Sonhadra

  Shadowed

  Acknowledgements

  I want to thank my writing assistant for this one.

  Without him, I wouldn’t have been able to make Fury happen as quickly as I did.

  During its creation, we had many conversations, my assistant and I, and together have concluded that this book—Sarazen’s Fury—is in its entirety the work of my overactive imagination.

  The only ghost involved in the writing of this novel goes by the name of, Rutger.

  You will find his head situated on my desk and his involvement in the completion of this book was to provide commentary when my writing assistant was otherwise occupied with the examination of his genitals.

  If any part of this book seems to suspend reality, I blame Rutger in totality as his advice often involves, ‘why did the unicorn cross the road,’ jokes and declaring his horn to be the biggest in the realm.

  Very distracting.

  I haven’t mentioned to him the glitter covering said horn is also known as ‘crafting herpes’ and it is unlikely any female disarticulated unicorn head will be eager to examine his horn to verify its magnificence.

  Please send all complaints regarding any lack of realism, suspense of belief, or any other general complaints as to the disproportionate size of any fictitious genitalia to my email—

  [email protected]

  Re: #rutgerisatoolwithcraftingherpes

  If you feel you are entitled to a free book of mine, please contact me at the above email address to discuss your entitlement. I have much to say regarding this matter, you precious little snowflake.

  My Facebook feed may indeed be flooded with pictures of my writing assistant, but this doesn’t mean I haven’t been sitting at my computer all night working.

  Your work day and mine are the same.

  The only difference is—I get to sit at home alone in my ugly pajamas for 8-14 hours sans a bra, while you interact with living human beings who may or may not have wrecked your day.

  And keep in mind, you get paid every two weeks.

  I get paid every two months.

  If I publish a new book on March 1st, I don’t see any income from that book until June 1st.

  I don’t tell you this to inspire any sympathy or suggest my situation is of greater importance than yours.

  I explain only to give you a bit of perspective that your complaints—oh Dirty Pirate Hooker— of being unable to afford my work or the work of other authors, are a blatant and ridiculous attempt to excuse theft.

  I write in hopes that my books will lift your spirits and give you a break from all that 9-5 drudgery.

  I hope to make you laugh, to offer you some fictitious vindication when a villain gets their just desserts, or to make you cry so you can let go of the pent-up fury that bitch who made you feel like a terrible person for doing your job to the best of your ability today, caused you.

  Or to make you believe—just for a moment— that there are men out there somewhere, who’ll take the damn trash out without having to be asked!

  Maybe do a load of laundry once and while, or give you that orgasm you so desperately need.

  I do in fact write for my own pleasure, but this is also my job, my sole source of income, and I have bills to pay just like everyone else.

  When the bills are no longer able to be paid due to the truly staggering amount of literary theft, I’ll be forced to stop publishing my work.

  If you have purchased this book from a source other than Amazon, downloaded it from a website other than Amazon, unlawfully shared this book outside the Amazon lending library, or uploaded this book to a website other than Amazon without my permission, please know you have just stolen my livelihood and become one of the Dirty Pirate Hooker crew.

  Karma is finishing her drink and will be with you shortly.

  My writing assistant also farts in your general direction to show his disdain to you English pig-dogs, and though you may not be able to smell it, the farts of a coprophagic Chinese Crested are lethal.

  If a Dirty Pirate Hooker drops dead after reading a stolen copy of my work, chances are Sir’s farts have hit their intended target.

  Either that, or the rather terrifying Avalon trained Priestess I hired to curse you with an astounding amount of bad luck, did her job and was worth every penny.

  To my very loyal readers, unfortunately I will continue to harp about Dirty Pirate Hookers despite knowing you are not among their foul number, because at this time it’s all I can do.

  I suffer from JIR—aka Jedediah’s Impotent Rage—but continue to be comforted by your continued support and dedication.

  I appreciate you more than you can possibly know, and hopefully this attempt to keep a record of where my manuscripts are being leaked from has made you laugh.

  Much love and happy reading,

  Isabel.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Resistance was futile.

  His focus was not what it should be. Not with his mate lounging in front of the hearth, her chin propped in her hand, her other arm draped along the swell of her waist, wearing nothing but a slight frown as she aimlessly drew circles on her thigh.

  Brennaugh shuddered, the phantom echo of her touch traveling along their bond, causing his flesh to pebble in reaction, and his cock to harden beneath the suddenly too tight leather of his trousers.

  He was supposed to be packing, not salivating for another taste of Tara's lips. Not working his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his gaze dropped to the furled peaks of her nipples, the soft flesh drawn taut in the coolness of the room.

  Packing, not imagining the many ways in which he could make his mate scream his name.

  Brennaugh should have been more concerned with the squad of warriors he had sent to S4 in search of one of the few remaining enemy strong
holds.

  Daeli was a decorated warrior, seasoned in combat, and truthfully overqualified for such a mission. But with the Original Council and their supporters consistently slipping through their grasp and growing more impatient to advance their plans to decimate the pride, Brennaugh had sent his best.

  Daeli made contact upon landing, but when his squad reached the facility Cassie and Falken had by chance stumbled upon in some ancient records, further communication had become unreliable.

  Daeli’s report had come through enough to say there were signs of recent use, scents to suggest the presence of their prey, but a full report could not be made due to some faulty equipment.

  Daeli's last transmission had been a full day ago, distorted and incomplete, and if the squad did not make their scheduled report today, Brennaugh was taking his own warriors to assist.

  Depending on the severity of the situation, it could potentially be days before Brennaugh and his squad reached the facility, and not taking the time to appreciate the perfection of his mate's nakedness would be a travesty.

  "You miss the action of being on active duty," Tara accused through narrow eyes.

  Brennaugh straightened from laying his weapons out on the bed, considering his response carefully. Since receiving the greatest gift the universe could have possibly given him, Brennaugh had been truly relieved to relinquish his command aboard Warship Five.

  It had seemed a natural progression to take up residence within the pride fortress on S1, and a great honor to be placed at the head of Tarek's council.

  It meant Brennaugh still held a position of command, but could still come home to Tara at the end of each day and spend every waking moment he was not attending to his council duties with his beloved mate.

  These days, Brennaugh engaged in battles of will instead of metal and flesh. Not counting the continued struggle to ferret out the identities of the Original Council members, the worst threats he dealt with on a daily basis had more to do with trade negotiations and border disputes. The risk of death was minimal.

  "Admit it," Tara pressed, her fingertips starting to tap her thigh instead of tracing circles.

  "Miss it?" Brennaugh scoffed, putting down the spare plasma pistol he intended to bring, moving to stand over his mate with his hands planted on his hips as he smiled down at her.

  "I have everything I could possibly want or need, right here in this room."

  Tara's gaze pointedly moved from his face to the pile of weapons on their bed and back, giving him a skeptical arch of her brow to silently inform him she was not convinced.

  "Tarek and Clary took the twins on a hunting trip. He left you in command, which means you should be staying here and coordinating the second team's movements from the control room, not to leave me here while you go running off to the jungle to lead the charge yourself."

  There was no disguising Tara's displeasure at being left behind, but there was no reality in which he would willingly take her into hostile territory and give their enemy the opportunity to capture her.

  He told her so, watching the play of thoughts and emotions chase across her face. It was the moment she broke eye contact and looked to the floor that Brennaugh became truly concerned.

  "You're bored, aren’t you?"

  He set a knee to the lounge and scooped her up against his chest, turned to sit and encouraged her to sit astride his lap.

  Brennaugh had ulterior motives, of course, but her ridiculous concerns needed addressing and he took the opportunity to fill his rough hands with her softness.

  That she didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around his shoulders, scooting forward so their bodies were flush from groin to chest, made sounds of relief and hunger rumble from his throat.

  "My One, I am not bored. I go because I must. If Tarek were here, he would send T'mai and his hunters. But T'mai is on S8, and there is no one with more experience qualified to provide assistance.

  “I could indeed coordinate from the command center, but should something go wrong that could have been avoided with my presence, I will simply be wasting resources and whoever has holed up inside the enemy facility will have time to escape."

  Tara wrinkled her nose and gave a little wiggle of her hips, which of course rubbed his most favorite part of her anatomy against his, and the ever-present arousal that hadn't dimmed or faded in intensity since the day he'd met her turned from a constant ache to a roaring need.

  "I don't like being separated," she told him hesitantly, as though worried her admission would make him somehow think less of her.

  Brennaugh ran his hands up and down the elegant arch of her spine, tilting his head to catch her mouth in a soft, lingering kiss.

  ~I have no desire to be away from you for a moment longer than necessary. If Daeli does not make his scheduled report, I will only be gone for a few days. Six at the most.

  ~Four. Tara told him firmly, tightening her arms around him with a little growl, aggressively pushing him back to lie flat on the lounge.

  It was a rare thing for Tara to take charge of their mating, and when she did it made him dizzy with lust. He took hold of her lush backside and urged her to rock forward, to ratchet the burn of need higher by grinding against the unyielding rise of his cock.

  ~I will do my very best to obey you, my One.

  ∆∆∆

  Tara had a terrible feeling, a knot in her belly that pulsed with fear, and no way to convey it without sounding like a weak, fearful wimp. She had faith in Brennaugh's abilities as a warrior.

  She knew his experience made all the difference in the world, but the Original Council had lay dormant for too long.

  Causing no outward ripples to alert T'mai and his hunters to their presence, they hadn't kidnapped anyone recently, and seemed to be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

  Her presence in a potential combat situation would only be a distraction to Brennaugh, and Tara knew that, but being left behind did not sit well with her. Not at all. She even tried offering to pilot the cruiser, but was shut down with a stern, loving,

  "No."

  Tara wasn't above using her body as a way to manipulate her mate, lying naked in his field of vision while he packed, glad to see his gaze frequently stray to where she lay on the lounge, his pupils elongating with lust as he stroked her from head to toe with hungry glances. Now he was beneath her, the hard ridge of his cock pressed tight between her legs, separated by one measly layer of clothing.

  Daeli had two hours before he was overdue for his check-in, which meant Tara had two hours to do her level best to ensure if Brennaugh left, he would hurry back.

  Four years together had given Tara just enough time to learn all the spots on Brennaugh's body that made him writhe with ecstasy.

  She sat astride him now, his face held in both her hands while they devoured one another in deep, greedy kisses. Brennaugh growled in denial, chasing her lips when she pulled away.

  Tara couldn't help but grin as she licked at the corner of his mouth, enjoying the rough sounds of arousal he made with each soft scrape of her teeth along the strong column of his throat.

  She loved the feel of his pulse pounding where she held it between her teeth, the salty flavor of his skin, how his hands clenched tight around the globes of her ass when she released him and dragged her tongue down his throat, down his chest, flat across his nipple.

  He inhaled sharply and his hips jerked when she gave the flat disk a careful nip.

  Tara ground against him, the slickness of her arousal causing her to slide up and down on the rough braid of leather keeping his trousers laced together.

  His fingertips raked up the length of her spine as Tara kissed and licked her way down the tough, masculine landscape of his chest and belly, grinning as she paused to rub her cheeks teasingly back and forth just above the waistband of his pants.

  She glanced up the length of his utterly magnificent body to see his face flushed and his eyes on fire with want.

  The scent of hi
s desire was thick, the fine tremors that already rippled through him alerted Tara he wasn't going to tolerate much more of her teasing.

  A gentle and overly considerate lover Brennaugh certainly was, but she very rarely got to be in control.

  The times she was, he made it very clear her dominance only lasted so long before he and his beast both surged to the forefront to hedonistically overpower her.

  Tara allowed it, because she absolutely loved it when her mate let his control slip.

  His tongue came out to lash across his full lips, fixated on the way Tara held up her right hand and wiggled her fingers to let her claws push free from under her fingernails.

  The crystalline tips were sharp enough to slice through metal, so just the barest stroke down the front of Brennaugh's pants caused the leather cord to snap with one, two, three soft pops.

  The long, thick length of his shaft jumped forward as though spring loaded, nearly slapping her in the face.

  Brennaugh winced and gave a grunt, the muscles beneath his skin bunching as though he was in real pain, but when Tara turned her head to let her breath move across his skin, her mate's eyes slid shut in bliss, only to jerk open again because he didn't want to miss a moment of watching her.

  Her commander liked to watch.

  Tara kissed the flushed head softly, her tongue lapping at the salty bead of arousal glistening at the tip.

  Her name sounded like a prayer for mercy, his groan vibrating through her as she opened as wide as she could to accept his girth.

  She loved his unique flavor—the faintest hint of leather and spice.

  She scooted lower, inhaling slowly through her nose to relax her throat, and as Tara wrapped her fingers around the thick stalk of his erection, she felt his heart beating in the palm of her hand.

  Her fingers barely met, and it never failed to make her pussy flex and flutter in eager anticipation.

  Brennaugh’s big body shuddered beneath her, his breath now coming in sharp pants and snarls, his hands twisting in her hair to steady himself while he filled her thoughts with a litany of praises and promises of repayment in kind.