Read High Octane Heroes Online
Authors: Delilah Devlin (ed)
High Octane Heroes
| High Octane Heroes |
| Delilah Devlin (ed) |
| Cleis Press (2013) |
Heroes inspire lustful fascination. Worthy of sex objects status, kickass iconic heroes enter danger zones in the name of duty, honor, country, and even love. These rugged men conjure images of hard, chiselled bodies, laser-sharp gazes and stark, camouflaged features.
Get ready for high-octane, smoldering-hot adventures, featuring these “super alpha" heroes and the strong women who wage heated battles for their hearts.
In “Beseiged," a special forces soldier rescues his lover from an embassy takeover.
In “The Star," an American Air Force pilot and a grieving British woman find solace in each other's arms.
A sexy SWAT team leader saves a rookie during a bungled undercover assignment in “Renegade."
And get ready for an undercover cop who flexes more than his “Big Guns."
Set in war-torn regions of the world and in your own neighborhoods,
High Octane Heroes
delivers passion, danger and heart.
Table of Contents
FOREWORD
H
igh-Octane Heroes.
What does that say to you as a reader of romance? If you immediately get a smile and that warm, tingly,
sigh
feeling, then yeah, you’re like me. You’re happy. You know you’re in for a treat.
igh-Octane Heroes.
What does that say to you as a reader of romance? If you immediately get a smile and that warm, tingly,
sigh
feeling, then yeah, you’re like me. You’re happy. You know you’re in for a treat.
What would romance be without the hot alpha male? Particularly the military man, the man in uniform. Along with that uniform, honor, loyalty and the undying willingness to protect, what would romance be without him? I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care to find out.
When asked to write a foreword for an anthology devoted to that kind of man, I knew that, yeah, I could do it, but how to put into words how I feel about that kind of hero? The kind of man I write for all of my books? A uniform is just that. Clothing. It’s what is underneath that uniform that matters.
Whether the outer trappings are an actual uniform with a flag or a badge, or plain street clothes, or even a kilt or grungy, tight-fitting jeans, it’s the man wearing them and the heart
within him that is all-important to the reader.
within him that is all-important to the reader.
We’re romance readers. We want heart. We want heat. We want a guy who’ll go to the wall every single time for his heroine and also the people important to him. Protect the innocent. Fight the good fight. Go to the wall. Every. Damn. Time.
If you like this kind of hero, if he hits every one of your reader buttons, then this is an anthology for you. A collection devoted solely to
that
kind of man. The super-alpha male, regardless of what—or any—uniform he wears. Ever hear the saying the clothes make the man? That’s total crap. It’s the heart that makes the man.
that
kind of man. The super-alpha male, regardless of what—or any—uniform he wears. Ever hear the saying the clothes make the man? That’s total crap. It’s the heart that makes the man.
Maya Banks
INTRODUCTION
W
ithout spelling out how long ago it actually was, I’ll admit to an
early
fascination with manly men and their high-testosterone adventures. I loved cops, firemen, soldiers, knights in shining armor and spies. Remember “The Man from Uncle”? How about “The Saint”? Truth be told, I often imagined myself as a damsel in need of rescue, blonde hair flowing, hands tied and stretched above my head, my body at the mercy of a drooling fiend, and then the hero—once he’d dispatched the heinous villain. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that although I always managed in those daydreams to somehow lose my clothes, I had only a very vague idea of what exactly the hero would do with me at that point. The rescue, the steamy glances and teasing caresses were enough to spur those young fantasies.
ithout spelling out how long ago it actually was, I’ll admit to an
early
fascination with manly men and their high-testosterone adventures. I loved cops, firemen, soldiers, knights in shining armor and spies. Remember “The Man from Uncle”? How about “The Saint”? Truth be told, I often imagined myself as a damsel in need of rescue, blonde hair flowing, hands tied and stretched above my head, my body at the mercy of a drooling fiend, and then the hero—once he’d dispatched the heinous villain. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that although I always managed in those daydreams to somehow lose my clothes, I had only a very vague idea of what exactly the hero would do with me at that point. The rescue, the steamy glances and teasing caresses were enough to spur those young fantasies.
When I grew older and experienced some of those high-octane adventures for myself, I decided I didn’t like imagining myself a victim, but instead standing toe to toe with that
powerful male—until the moment he convinced me I’d really rather bend to his will…and wicked hands and mouth…
powerful male—until the moment he convinced me I’d really rather bend to his will…and wicked hands and mouth…
So when my editor asked me for ideas for another collection, I submitted my own personal fantasy, this idea of “high-octane” heroes, and although she took some convincing, my enthusiasm ultimately persuaded her that maybe there were other women out there who shared the same passion for those strong, studly men.
How lucky are we that so many writers knew exactly what I wanted? Maybe it was the description I gave when I announced my call for submissions…
What is it about heroes like Superman, Iron Man or Thor that revs our engines like no other? Is it the suit? The manly physique? Or is it the courage they display, wading in where others fear to go, to save the damsel, the city, the Earth?
Are there real-life heroes who inspire the same lustful fascination? Kick-ass iconic heroes who enter danger zones in the name of duty, honor, country—or maybe love—who conjure images of hard, chiseled bodies, deadly glares and camouflaged features?
I’ll admit I got a little carried away there. Still, it worked.
I received stories of military men and everyday heroes within our own communities—policemen, personal trainers, firemen and even an EMT. While many of the stories feature women in need of rescue, many more show women ready to do the rescuing, to serve and defend their community, country and the world, while waging very sexy battles with those absurdly manly men.
Delilah Devlin
AS YOU WERE
Alice Janell
T
he rainfall of rocks and debris were the least of her problems. Someone shouted something, but the words were drowned in the sharp reports of weapons. Ears ringing from the spray of bullets not too far away, Laura kept focused on the injured solider in front of her. Heart pounding, she suppressed her fear and continued to work. A tourniquet had been tied off. If she could get him to the surgical unit quickly, maybe they could save his leg. If not…
he rainfall of rocks and debris were the least of her problems. Someone shouted something, but the words were drowned in the sharp reports of weapons. Ears ringing from the spray of bullets not too far away, Laura kept focused on the injured solider in front of her. Heart pounding, she suppressed her fear and continued to work. A tourniquet had been tied off. If she could get him to the surgical unit quickly, maybe they could save his leg. If not…
Stay positive. It’s just like training. Only he could die.
A rough hand jerked her away from her work.
“Stand down!” she barked, not even glancing at the soldier who distracted her momentarily.
“The med trucks are here. We have to go
now
. They’ve given the orders to pull out.”
now
. They’ve given the orders to pull out.”
A quick glance at the uniform in front of her gave her a name: Stevens. Glancing up at the dirty face in front of her, she shook her head. “I’m not leaving him. Can you carry him?”
A quick nod from Stevens was all she needed. With her wounded soldier being carted toward the med trucks, she began to follow. An agonized groan caught her ear. How she heard it, she didn’t know. The mixture of gunfire and shouts was deafening. She paused, looking. Stevens stopped.
“Go,” she told him. “I’m right behind you.”
Another quick survey of the area revealed nothing. Had she imagined it?
It happened in slow motion.
A bulldozer knocked her off her feet.
Something
hit the ground. Too close. Adrenaline coursed through her, and she tried to roll to the side, wanting to sprint toward the remaining trucks. But the bulldozer prevented her from doing anything. Rocks scattered around them, and she instinctively curled, ducking her head beneath her arms.
Something
hit the ground. Too close. Adrenaline coursed through her, and she tried to roll to the side, wanting to sprint toward the remaining trucks. But the bulldozer prevented her from doing anything. Rocks scattered around them, and she instinctively curled, ducking her head beneath her arms.
“I’m right here, Laura,” a voice boomed in her ears.
Tony.
Tony.
She relaxed just a fraction as the sound of his voice washed over her. Before she could say anything to him, the sound of helicopters roared overhead. The cavalry had arrived. They needed to get out of the area. Fast.
Tony Valdez, the bulldozer of a soldier who’d tackled her to the ground, caught her gaze. His face was covered in dirt and grime, but that didn’t matter. With his chiseled jaw and dark, penetrating gaze, Tony had her insides melting, even in the heat of battle. The look on his face, however, was all business. He motioned toward the remaining trucks. She nodded, knowing they were going to have to run at a dead sprint to catch them before they left.
A heartbeat passed. Then another.
Tony lifted his body off of hers, offered a hand to pull her up and began running. Laura followed suit, her hand still inside his. He was faster, able to take longer strides, but he stayed with
her. Soldiers in the trucks were waving, calling them to hurry.
her. Soldiers in the trucks were waving, calling them to hurry.
Her adrenaline spiked, pumping her legs faster. A wisp of hair fell in her eyes, but she ignored it. Her muscles burned, but there wasn’t time to think about that. She could rest later.
Tony jumped into the truck first, pulling her up after.
She started to thank him, but he shook his head.
“Later,” he told her, taking a seat on the other side of the truck. He was panting, his face slick with sweat. He kept his gaze on her a moment longer and then closed his eyes.
As the truck sped away from the battle, she looked at the men and women around her. Each of them were haggard but all of them alive. She spared a brief thought for Stevens and her wounded soldier. She hoped they had made it to the med truck in time.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” Someone tapped her shoulder. “Are you a medic?”
She nodded. “Are you hurt?”
“No, ma’am—”
“Sergeant Hayes,” she corrected.
“Sergeant Hayes,” the boy repeated. He was a boy, too. He couldn’t have been more than twenty with that baby face. “It’s Tom—I mean, Corporal Briggs.” He pointed to another young man sitting a few feet away, clutching his side and hissing through his teeth.
She nodded once and moved down toward Briggs. “Corporal, can you speak?”
“Yes.” His voice was rough.
Laura could tell the effort hurt him. “Are you bleeding?”
“Nothing too serious. A few cuts. Hurts to breathe.”
Placing her hand over his, she moved it and felt along his rib cage. When he cringed and shied from her touch she clucked her tongue. “Probably a bruised or fractured rib,” she told him.
“There’s not much I can do for you here, I’m afraid. Just keep as still as possible, taken even breaths. A doc can give you pain meds, but it should heal on its own in about six weeks.”
“There’s not much I can do for you here, I’m afraid. Just keep as still as possible, taken even breaths. A doc can give you pain meds, but it should heal on its own in about six weeks.”
Briggs nodded, relaxing a little. “Thanks, Sergeant.”
After Briggs, Laura checked the other soldiers around her. None were seriously injured, thank goodness. Most had a few scrapes and cuts, and one had a gash on his forehead, but that was the extent of the injuries.
When she knelt in front of Tony, his eyes opened. There was a dark, predatory look in his eyes that sent shivers across her skin. She wished they were alone. She wanted to climb onto his lap, straddle his hips and feel his cock slide deep into her wet pussy. She licked her lips, her heart pounding in her chest. The corner of his mouth turned upward, a small smirk that told her he knew what she was thinking.
Tentatively, she placed a hand on his knee and hoped the others were either not paying attention or would assume she was merely checking him for injuries.
He brought his hand, calloused and rough, over hers. He held it there a moment too long, his deep brown eyes locked onto hers, before he moved her hand aside gently. “I’m fine, Sergeant.” He used his gruff, professional soldier’s voice, but his eyes sparkled, a secret look meant only for her. The heat she felt had nothing to do with the desert sun or the bodies packed into the back of the rattling truck.
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