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    Owning Oliver
    Owning Oliver
    Owning Oliver
    Ebook162 pages2 hours

    Owning Oliver

    By Amber Kell

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    About this ebook

    Tim has been left for dead, but fate sent him back. While searching for his brother he stumbles across his soul mates and discovers both love and a new place to call home. He might not choose to be a fighter but he’ll do anything to keep his mates safe.
    Aslic is a daywalker. Too independent to work under Alesandro, he accepts a contract with the vampire leader to oversee vampire properties and negotiate contracts. After spotting Oliver in Anthony’s company he decides to focus on the gorgeous wizard. However, when Tim claims Oliver as his own, Aslic decides to keep them both.
    Oliver is an assassin brought in to kill Anthony but refuses to when he determines Anthony isn’t a threat to wizard kind. Unfortunately his boss has a different idea and when Oliver refuses to play their games he finds himself on the wrong side of a contract.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAmber Kell
    Release dateJan 30, 2017
    ISBN9781370933914
    Owning Oliver
    Author

    Amber Kell

    Amber Kell is a dreamer who has been writing stories in her head for as long as she could remember.She lives in Seattle with her husband, two sons, three cats and one very stupid dog. To learn more about her current books or works in progress, check out her blog at http://amberkell.wordpress.com.Her fans can also reach her at amberkellwrites@gmail.com.

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      Book preview

      Owning Oliver - Amber Kell

      Chapter 1

      Oliver Cornwell didn’t go out drinking often. The flashing lights and brutally pounding music always reminded him why he preferred nights spent in a quiet restaurant with good company and a fine glass of wine. However after his sex life reached a Sahara-level dry spell, he decided to try a different approach.

      He glanced over at the handsome man lying on the pillow next to him. Even drunk he had excellent taste. Pushing away the urge to kiss the gorgeous stranger, he climbed out of bed while rubbing his pounding temples. He snatched up the first items of clothing his unsteady hands could find, then slid them on as he stumbled out of his bedroom. Although the jeans cradled his ass like proper club clothes, the hem of the shirt he had pulled on reached his thighs. He ignored the fit, more anxious to leave the bedroom than fuss over clothes.

      Damn, he should have had better sense than to bring a one-night stand home. It’s like his drunken self had gleefully painted a target on his back in neon colors before placing cartoony he’s here arrows around him.

      Anyone would think he had just become an assassin a few days ago instead of having a ten-year career as an enforcer of the wizard council. Idiot. A faint smile crossed his lips. Damn, he loved big strong men. Memories of his sexual partner’s strength had delicious shivers scampering down his spine.

      Soon enough he would be faced with the results of his previous night’s bad decisions, but right now he wallowed in the silence of being the only one awake. Resolutely he pushed away the urge to go back and re-examine all those warm, hard muscles in further detail. He had more important things to concentrate on. Coffee.

      His desperate, almost mindless, need for the rich bitter brew had him stumbling toward the kitchen. More than one ex had commented on Oliver’s zombielike mind-set before his first morning cup. Only one had had the gall to switch him to decaf. He still didn’t regret sending Phil to the hospital. Fucker deserved it.

      Minutes later he had his elbows propped on the kitchen counter and his blurry gaze fixed on the slow drip, drip, drip of his coffeemaker. Even with magic he couldn’t hurry the brewing process along unless he wanted a horrible aftertaste. He contemplated buying one of those machines with all the bells and whistles, but none of the new versions had a carafe as large as the one currently taking over the entire corner of his kitchen counter. He didn’t have a lot of vices, but he relished his favorites.

      His pounding head had reached the level of having its own rhythm section, and the newly expired painkillers he’d discovered in the back of his kitchen junk drawer hadn’t taken the edge off yet. He chugged more water, trying to rehydrate. A slight sting beneath his shirt had him rubbing his fingers across the spot on his shoulder. Memories flooded his hazy brain. What had seemed like a brilliant idea the night before struck him as stupid in the brutal morning light.

      Oh fuck, I’ve been marked, he whispered. Shifter. He’d been marked by a shifter, and allowed it. He distinctly remembered his lover from last night asking before biting. For the first time since he’d reached adulthood, Oliver was awake before his first morning sip of coffee.

      A whisper of sound was his only warning. Warm fingers trailed across the back of his neck before sliding forward beneath his shirt to brush against the newly discovered mark. He held back a whimper with iron control, but weakly leaned into the touch. Spikes of desire pierced his body. He groaned.

      Good morning, gorgeous. The voice, rich and sinful as his morning brew, growled into his ear. Hot breath across his lobe had Oliver relaxing against the stranger who would be with him for the rest of his life. After all he had accepted the mark and mates were forever.

      Morning, he muttered back, not daring to turn and face his future partner. His normally soft voice had a rough tone like a nubby fabric. No amount of throat clearing seemed to help. Coffee, his miracle cure, would fix that in a minute or two. Still, he couldn’t stop his spine from melting against the strong, warm body behind him. His mind spun in a sluggish hamster wheel circle as he tried to recall all the details about shifter mates. Not one to have regrets, Oliver mentally re-ordered his life to work around this new variable.

      I’m conducting a next morning regret check. Do you remember my name? asked the same delicious voice layered with humor.

      Hmm. Oliver nestled the back of his head against the firm chest behind him, his new favorite spot. He closed his eyes to block out the sneaky morning light that had slipped between his blinds. Focusing his limited attention, he tried to recall his companion’s introduction. It came to him after a few minutes of struggle. Tim.

      Tim’s last name eluded Oliver, but at least he was confident about the first part. Considering his previously inebriated condition and a night of hazy passion-filled sex, he was rather proud of remembering a first name, or anything at all.

      Mm, good, you do remember. Tim slid his warm hands up and down Oliver’s arms in long soothing strokes. As a wizard he really shouldn’t feel the compulsion to purr like a cat shifter. Now for the bonus question. Do you remember what I am?

      Images from last night flashed through his head, sexy glimpses of their hot encounter overloaded Oliver’s quickly short-circuiting brain. Details of stuttering conversation, of backgrounds shared between touches, returned to his aching head.

      Wolf shifter, but you’re not one of a pack. You’re a lone wolf, aren’t you? He knew the answer before he asked, but still didn’t know the reason behind it. Conversation tended to be short between drinks and sweat-soaked bodies.

      Lone wolves were usually that for a reason. They were often the dregs of shifter society who were rejected by any proper pack for their crimes. Even misbehaving wolves could usually get some pack to take them in. Knowing this, Oliver couldn’t assign those traits to his new mate.

      Last night Tim’s status hadn’t seemed like an important detail, but beneath the overly bright lights of his kitchen and Tim’s close proximity, his self-preservation instincts kicked in. What did he really know about the strange wolf shifter in his apartment, other than his skills in the bedroom? Oliver poured a cup of coffee, then took a desperate sip, hoping the caffeine would jumpstart his sluggish thinking. It was too early, and he was too hungover to deal with much else today. For a fleeting moment, he wished for a shifter metabolism. He doubted Tim suffered from a hangover.

      Are you going to share some of that coffee? Tim asked, squeezing Oliver’s shoulders in an affectionate touch.

      Maybe the next pot. He drained his cup, then refilled, not sparing his new mate a glance.

      Tim laughed. Stingy.

      The warmth left Oliver’s back, and Tim opened a few cabinets before he pulled out a coffee cup, then set it pointedly on the counter in front of Oliver. Consider it part of your morning-after hospitality.

      Fine, but don’t complain if you lose some fingers in the future, Oliver snarled before pouring coffee into Tim’s cup. I don’t have cream. Sugar is in the cabinet above you.

      I take it black. He pressed a kiss on Oliver’s cheek before picking up his mug.

      Oliver glared at him over his shoulder but lost some of his ire at the sight of Tim’s sparkling eyes. I’m not a morning person, he grumbled before taking another sip.

      Really? I couldn’t tell. Tim hid his smile with his mug, but Oliver knew when he was being laughed at.

      He tried to step away, but Tim grabbed him gently around the waist, then pulled him close until they were snuggling again.

      Don’t rush off, I like you nearby, Tim rumbled in Oliver’s ear, sending shivers down his spine. Tim kissed Oliver’s neck before simply holding him. They let silence fall between them as they sipped their morning brew. It was almost peaceful. Oliver relaxed, something he rarely did with other people.

      Do you want some more? Oliver asked in his politest tone after draining his cup. His uppity aunt would’ve been proud of his manners, even if she hadn’t liked him any better than his parents.

      Are you sure it’s safe? I’ve seen mothers in front of their newly born pups who’ve looked less ferocious than you with your coffeepot, Tim teased.

      Oliver sniffed. I’m not human before my coffee.

      What about after? I mean I know you’re an animal in bed, but the spark between us wasn’t normal. Humans don’t usually produce actual sparks. Tim’s eyes turned amber in the middle of his sentence as if his wolf wanted to get a better look at Oliver while they talked.

      Oliver remained still, not wanting to antagonize Tim’s inner beast. He might not hang around Silver, but he’d learned enough over the past few years while working among shifters, to never challenge one unless he planned to win. Oliver tried to appear both strong enough to face Tim and submissive enough to not threaten his wolf half.

      I’m a wizard. No sense in trying to hide it. He could reveal his past later after he quit his job. He couldn’t be an assassin with a mate. Tim would be too much collateral.

      Tim took a large step backward. You’re kidding?

      Why would I kid about that? Wizards had a bad enough reputation in the supernatural community that Oliver couldn’t imagine joking about being one. If they weren’t mates, he wouldn’t even have brought it up.

      No wonder you reek of magic. I thought maybe you worked in a magical building. Oliver relaxed when Tim’s expression remained more curious than upset.

      I work in an architecture firm. My boss has a lot of magic so in some ways you are right. Comparing his magic to Anthony’s was like comparing a gnat to an elephant, but to someone without magic, they were probably similar. Tim didn’t need to know of his other activities.

      Are you an architect? Tim asked.

      Oliver shook his head. His work with Anthony had actually become more interesting than killing people. He appreciated the challenge it provided, that shooting a poisonous dart into a neck didn’t.

      I set up wards on workstations and things like that. I also put protections on any of Anthony’s new buildings when they are owned by paranormals. I might eventually start my own warding company.

      Being an assassin didn’t bother Oliver, but soon he’d have to come up with something less hazardous to do for a living. He’d abandoned his pesky morality at age fifteen when he was assigned to kill a man for raising demons, but for the past two years, killing had lost its shiny allure and his assignments had become less palatable. His latest job to watch and possibly murder Anthony had him questioning the council for the first time in his life. He didn’t believe in proactive killing. Ending the life of someone who had committed unconscionable crimes was one thing. Murdering a man mated to a powerful shifter leader smacked of political bullshit.

      He enjoyed working for Anthony, who had so many strands of magic wrapped around him that Oliver could sometimes barely breathe from the crackling power in the room.

      Do you enjoy it? Tim asked. He nudged Oliver’s arm as if sensing he’d lost his attention.

      My job? Oliver took a moment to untangle his mind from his assassin work when he realized Tim meant his work with Anthony.

      Poor sweetie, you’re not a morning person, are you? Tim carded his fingers through Oliver’s hair in

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