Dungeon Royale(4)

By: Lexi Blake


A quizzical look crossed Nigel’s face. “Blonde? We have a few.”

How did he not give himself away here? “She’s a translator. Not sure what she translates. German, maybe. Curly blonde hair. She’s complete shit at dressing herself. Pretty girl, but she doesn’t know it.”

“Are you talking about Penelope Cash?” Nigel’s mouth practically hung open.

Penny Cash. God, her parents must have hated her. “I believe so. She would work.”

“You want to take Penelope Cash on a fetish cruise? Well, uhm, she actually speaks German, Danish, and Finnish and her Russian is fairly good.”

“She sounds perfect.” She was a mouse, a cute little mouse who obviously needed a very good fuck. She was kind and sweet and a bit of a doormat. He might be able to teach her a thing or two. And he might be able to break out of his rut. Seven months and not a single erection. He was a bit worried that it didn’t work anymore.

“All right. I suppose it’s your team, but she’s very quiet. I don’t know that she’ll suit you at all.”

She was quiet, submissive. She wouldn’t give him hell in the field. He should be able to control her. He didn’t need a woman he had to worry would disobey him. He needed a sub, and from what he’d seen, Penelope fit the bill better than anyone else in the office. Coupled with the fact that she spoke the languages and he could halfway see himself fucking her—she was practically perfect.

It wasn’t that he was really attracted to her. It was just that she was his type. That was all. He would have to keep an emotional distance from her. No, the fact that he’d thought about her when he’d almost died had been random. She’d simply been kind to him and he liked to reward kindness. In this particular case, he might reward her kindness with multiple orgasms.

“She’s not married, is she?” He hadn’t seen her in seven months. A lot could happen. He’d heard she’d been engaged at one point. That wouldn’t suit. He really would likely have to screw her and possibly in a public setting. It didn’t bother him at all. He could fuck with an audience all day, but some husbands might object.

He didn’t like the thought of her having a husband.

“Penelope? No. I don’t believe she even dates.”

Excellent, then no one would get in the way. “Perfect.”

“Well, you have to convince her first.”

Damon huffed, allowing a bit of his arrogance to show. He might have lost a step or two physically, but the bullet hadn’t taken his charm. “I think I can handle one small female.”

She wouldn’t turn down the chance to serve Queen and country. Of course, in serving Queen and country, she would find herself serving him. His cock stirred for the first time in forever.

Yes, going back to the field would be good for him.



* * * *



“I’m sorry. What did you say, sir?” Penny asked because she couldn’t possibly have heard him right. No. He hadn’t said what she’d thought he’d said.

Nigel Crowe hadn’t just told her he was partnering her with Damon Knight and putting them in the field together where they would pose as lovers. He hadn’t said that because that would be utterly ridiculous.

And she really wished Damon Knight wasn’t standing behind him, looming over the proceedings like a gloriously dark angel. The man was far too big, too grim, too gorgeous for her to be able to breathe in the same room with him.

The head of the double 0 program shook his head. “I seem to be having an enormous amount of difficulty making myself plain today.”

She was screwing up. She was a bloody translator. She understood words and their nuances in many different languages, but nothing was computing today.

“He meant what he said.” Knight’s voice was like rich dark chocolate. It seemed to flow from those gorgeous lips of his to caress her skin as though he was talking only to her, and no one else in the world mattered. She’d never had that deep voice turned specifically on her. Oh, he’d said the occasional hello before and once he’d thanked her for baking him a cake—though he hadn’t eaten it—but she’d never held an actual long conversation with him.

Which was good because apparently she struggled with the power of speech around the man. Their whole relationship involved him asking her to translate things and her acting like a drooling idiot.

“Miss Cash, this is an operation of the highest priority, though we believe there is very little risk to your person,” Nigel explained.

“I’ll take care of you.” Knight had his arms crossed over his chest, those stark gray eyes pinning her to the chair.

“I don’t understand. I’m a translator.” She didn’t go into the field. The entire idea was silly.

“You passed your physical.” Knight seemed to have taken over the meeting. Though he didn’t move an inch, there was something active about the way he stood and stared at her. He was like a large predatory cat just waiting for her to make the wrong move so he could attack.

So he could jump on her. His body on hers. Her body under his. He was so big, would she even be able to breathe if he gave her his full weight? He had to be sixteen and a half stone, and every bit of it was pure muscle. She’d seen him without a shirt once. He’d been in a training room, running on a treadmill, sweat glistening off his perfectly formed chest. He looked a bit like she suspected Greek gods would have looked.

She’d heard all the horrible stories about his injury seven months before, but, god, he looked healthy today. Good enough to eat.

“You didn’t pass your physical?” Knight asked, one dark brow rising.

God, how long had she been sitting there staring at him like an idiot? “No, I passed.”

Barely. Though she had been hitting the gym a bit in the last several months. Exercise was supposed to be good for lifting the spirits. It had lifted her rear at least.

“Excellent. And you passed the firearms courses. I don’t expect that you should have to actually use one, but you’ll be issued a sidearm.” He moved suddenly, his big body uncoiling as he reached for a file folder. “This is the basic information about the operation. Obviously, it’s for your eyes only.”

She stared at the folder like it might bite her. “I’m a translator.”

“Who seems to be having a bit of trouble with English today,” Knight quipped. “Yes, you’re a translator. That’s why I need you. This operation is going to take us to Germany, Denmark, and Finland. You speak the languages.”

She was freakishly good with languages, and she’d been raised in a home where several had been spoken. Her grandmother had grown up in a small town in Finland and spoke Finnish around her constantly. Her father’s family was German. She’d picked up the language in summers spent in Bavaria. She’d learned Danish because her brother had bet her she couldn’t. But there was a problem with the scenario Knight laid out. “Almost everyone in those countries speaks English, you know.”

A superior huff came out of Knight’s mouth. “Yes, darling, they do. They are spectacularly well educated. So smart, in fact, that they tend to speak their own languages when they don’t want the idiot Brits to know what they’re saying. I don’t suspect that they’ll switch to English when they discuss their nefarious plans. We have twenty suspects. We’re going to bug their rooms. I doubt those conversations will conveniently take place in English. And there’s the fact that if we need to follow the suspects into the countryside, the farther you get from the cities, the more likely I’ll need a translator.”

She finally took the file and flipped through it. “I thought you said this was a potential terrorist. Shouldn’t you be looking for someone who speaks the Middle Eastern languages?”

“Yes, because all terrorists are Middle Eastern.”

God, she sounded like a complete idiot. “I know that. Uhm, you think this is tied to Nature’s Core?”

“Yes,” Nigel said.

“Not at all,” Knight interjected. Then a smooth smile crossed that perfect face of his. He was a hard-looking man, his face all angles and roughhewn planes, but when he smiled he damn near took her breath away. “I mean, yes. Yes. The files explain it. And Nature’s Core is a German group. So you can see why I need a woman who speaks German.”

“To pretend to be your lover.” The words sounded dumb. He was gorgeous and sophisticated. The suit he was currently wearing likely had a designer label attached. She was wearing a shapeless skirt and a cardie that she’d probably picked up at a car boot sale. She had kinky blonde hair and wore glasses. She was a bit overweight. Just a bit.

She set the file back down on Nigel’s desk. She couldn’t read it when all her brain was thinking about was Damon Knight.

He moved again, walking around Crowe’s desk and coming to stand right in front of her. She was taken by how he seemed to occupy the space around him. There was no way to ignore Damon Knight unless he wanted her to. He reached out and took her hand in his.

And her heart rate tripled.

“I think it won’t be such a challenge, love.”

Dear god, she’d actually become quite…excited. She could feel herself getting moist and hot, her female parts softening right up the minute he touched her. It was deeply disconcerting since she hadn’t actually had that reaction to a man in…ever.