His Sleeping Beau — Jess Buffett

Warning: For Mature Adult Audiences. Contains language and actions some may deem offensive. Sexually explicit content. MM

In book two of Wickedly Ever After: Zanth is a teacher making the best of his life until a chance encounter changes everything for him. It leaves him questioning everything: his life, his family, and his ability to love.

When Guardian Liam is sent to collect his charge and bring him home, the last thing he expected is to discover the young, clueless man is meant to be his. Now he must explain the past to save the future to a man with no knowledge of his worth.

Will a Tribe gain the leader they have waited years for? Does the evil from the past finally receive their vengeance? Or can Liam convince Zanth that apart means death to all but together, they are unstoppable?



Excerpt





“Couldn't die on a nice sunny afternoon, could you?”

Stepping into the shower, he turned the taps, relieved when the warmth of the spray hit his ice-cold skin. His teeth finally stopped chattering, and he felt the stress of the day slowly drift down the drain along with the water.

Damn, he was tired.

His kids had been unreasonably difficult today, and more than one teacher had felt the need to spread their bad mood.

“Must be something in the wind,” he chuckled to himself.

An old tale his aunt Flora used to tell him. When change was coming, it would appear in the wind...or something like that. He loved the woman dearly, but she had always been a bit nuts.

Zanth yelped when the water suddenly went cold. Almost falling face first, he dashed out of the shower, then leaned back in to turn off the taps.

“What the hell?” he muttered. “Don't tell me I forgot to pay the hot water bill.”

Reaching for a towel, he wrapped it around his waist, praying his hot water system hadn't just given out on him. That was the last thing he needed.

Groaning at the thought of having to come up with more money, he shuffled into his bedroom and ransacked his drawers, desperate for something warm to put on. Ah, hell, he'd be happy with dry and clean at this point.

“Come on, where is that damn shirt?” he grumbled.

“You'd probably find it easier to locate the shirt if you were tidier,” a deep rumble came from behind.

Zanth screamed, too terrified to be embarrassed by the sound, and spun around. A large figure stood near the window, shadows making it too difficult to see any detail. “W-who are you?”

And where the hell did he put that cricket bat?

A chuckle echoed through the room. “Do you really want to know? Or are you biding time until you find the closest weapon?”

Yeah, except I can't even find the damn thing.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you plan to kill me.” He squinted in the dark, trying to see the other man. “Now, are you going to tell me who you are?”

“There's no need to be alarmed. I'm not here to hurt you.”

Really? Zanth attempted to remain calm, but what part of this wasn't supposed to alarm him?

“No, you just break into my house while I'm in the shower, then wait until I'm in nothing but a towel before making your presence known. You're hovering in the dark so I can't even see you, which is even creepier by the way. I mean, seriously, if you mean no harm, how about turning on the light. Or I don't know, knocking on the fucking door and waiting for it to be answered.”

“Actually, I was here before you even arrived home.” Zanth could see the stranger's lips twitching in the light of the street lamp outside.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, that's so much better.”

The bastard clearly thought he was funny, a deep chuckle filling the room.

“Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when unwelcome visitors sneak into my house,” he muttered.

He saw the shadowed figure's head cock to the side. “Have that happen often, do you?”

Thinking back to his ex who now had a police restraint against him, Zanth begrudgingly admitted, “More than I'd like.”