Pn1

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

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CONTENTS

BECOMING

SECRET TO KEEP

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BECOMING

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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

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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.

* * * *

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

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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

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decide which marketing letter to use tomorrow for employees coming

into Clark Trading and discovering they were assets of Palmer

Enterprises.

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.

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"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.

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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