Guardians of Hades Audiobook Bundle

There was a clunk and then the sound of running water.

Megan turned around to face the living room and followed the
sound to a room on her right. The oak door was open. She stopped in front of it
and her eyes widened.

Sweet lord above.

He was nude.

Her heart pounded harder than her head and she told herself
to look away.

Her eyes were having none of it.

They remained glued on the tall, luscious, naked warrior in
the double-width shower cubicle. He had his back to her, sinewy muscles
shifting with each move he made as he ran his hands through his overlong dark
hair, slicking it away from his face. Oh my. Her cheeks scalded and her body
followed suit, heating to a thousand degrees. The man was a god, from his long
muscular legs, to the firm globes of his backside, right up to his strong back
and powerful arms.

The lower portion of the glass door steamed up and stole
away a slice of his beauty but still left the rest of him on show.

And what a delicious view it was.

Water ran over his shoulders, chasing in rivulets between
muscles that she wanted to run her fingers over again.

She had to leave.

Megan frowned. Not yet. Just a few seconds longer. It wasn’t
every day, or even every year, that she got to see living perfection standing
only a metre from her.

Who knew when the next opportunity to ogle a real life
gorgeous nude man would come along?

Probably never.

He pressed his palms into the tiles and hung his head
forwards, under the steaming jet. Water rushed down his sexy back in a torrent,
streaming over broad strong shoulders that tapered perfectly into a narrow
waist, and her eyes followed it, drifting down to the wicked ridge of muscle
that arched over his right hip.

His fist slammed into the wall, cracking tiles, and she
jumped.

Time to leave him alone.

He began to turn around.

She leaped backwards into the living room and panicked.

She raced around the couch and sat in the middle of it with
her hands in her lap, resting on her dark jeans.

Sat very still.

Stared at the far wall and the black screen of the huge
television.

Her heart hammered.

The shower switched off.

Panic lanced her again and she quickly lay down on the couch
and closed her eyes. What the heck was she doing? Pretending to be asleep? She
wasn’t sure why she did it but for some reason it seemed better than him
catching her awake, as if he would know she had been spying on him.

She waited, doing her best to look like she was sleeping,
unsure what to expect.

He muttered a few gruff things she didn’t catch and then she
heard him enter the room. Her heart thumped. He was still for so long that she
wondered what he was doing, and then he moved again and she swore she could
feel the heat of his gaze on her as he stood behind the couch. He lingered
there for long seconds and she was tempted to feign waking so she could look up
at him and see if his dark eyes were as beautiful as she remembered.

Would there be red in them as he watched her?

She wanted to know why his eyes did that at times, how they
could do that.

He moved away before she could pretend to wake and she
cracked an eye open. He was in his bedroom, wearing only a white towel around
his waist and looking just as delicious as he had in the shower. He turned
around and she quickly relaxed into the cushion again, continuing her charade.

She tensed when he stopped close to her again, barely
breathing, hyper-aware of him where he stood behind the red couch, towering
over her. A droplet of water landed on her bare right arm and goose bumps broke
out along its length.

Her skin prickled and she swore he was close to touching
her, could feel his hand glide up her arm towards her face.

She rolled onto her back and slowly opened her eyes,
feigning waking. She lifted her gaze to him and he stole her breath as he stood
over her, his overlong tawny hair wet and slicked back, and drops of water
rolling down his chiselled torso as he stared down at her.

It was the first time she had seen him in good light and,
heck, he was stunning, his sculpted cheeks and the cut line of his jaw giving
him a rough but oh-so-masculine appearance.

Everything about him made him look like a warrior, a man of
strength and action, a man who made her quiver in her core and roused the
feminine side of her, coaxing it to the surface and making her want to purr in
appreciation of him. The fine layer of stubble coating his jaw only added to
his intense masculinity and he had the most sensual mouth she had ever seen.
Her gaze locked with his and she shivered. His dark eyes were as incredible as
she remembered them and striking with the flecks of red and gold that danced
against a deep brown backdrop.

Tension radiated between them but Megan didn’t know what to
say.

She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out, so she
swallowed to wet her throat.

“What are you doing in my apartment?” he said, voice a deep
rumble that cranked up the heat inside her.

“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing on your couch.”
She fought for composure and failed, and her nerves got the better of her,
setting her mouth to hyper-speed. “I’m Megan. Remember me? You probably don’t.
You were in a fight in the storm against this man and he hurt you, and did
something. I shot him and then things got worse, and these two men appeared and
claimed to be your brothers... they weren’t very nice... and I tried to shoot
them too but the gun froze up and then they grabbed me and brought me here, and
made me heal you... not that they needed to make me do it. I was going to do it
anyway but the creepy one wouldn’t let me near you and the other one insisted
on giving me the third degree about what happened. I told him and then they
poofed off somewhere together and said they would be back by dawn. Is it dawn?”

Her pulse rocketed. If he had understood any of that, it
would be a miracle. He stared at her as though he thought she was insane.

“It’s evening,” he said, that gruff purr melting her again.
“Let me get a few things straight. Your name is Megan. You tried to shoot my
brothers. You healed me.”

She swallowed. Maybe she should have omitted the bit about
trying to shoot his brothers.

She nodded. “I was trying to protect you.”

He looked affronted and then his expression softened.
“Appreciated. Did you catch my brothers’ names? Were they Daimon and Esher?”

She nodded again and he turned his profile to her and stared
pensively out of the bank of windows. Those sexy powerful shoulders heaved in a
deep sigh.

“They said they were going hunting. Something about monsters
and a gate and protecting it.” She rubbed her stiff neck and winced when a
twinge shot down her spine.

His dark gaze came back to her and he frowned. “I was that
out of it?”

“The white-haired one... Daimon? He seemed upset when you
touched him. He grabbed you and made Esher grab me. They brought you here in
that weird black smoke and—”

“Esher touched you?” He scowled at her and she shrank deeper
into the couch and gave a small nod. He blew out a sigh. “He’ll be a pain in my
arse for the next month. I’m surprised he didn’t kill Daimon.”

For making him touch her? What was so repulsive about her?

She went to ask but the man shook his head and a strand of
his dark hair fell down to brush his cheek.

“They’re all going to give me hell for this,” he muttered
and she felt sorry for him as a pained edge entered his eyes.

Why?

It wasn’t as though he had done anything wrong. He was the
one who had been injured.

Megan sat up and rubbed her neck again, grimacing when it
cracked but the ache between her shoulders remained.

“What’s wrong?” His deep voice stirred heat within her again
and he directed his frown at her neck.

“It’s nothing. Just a crick from sleeping on the couch.” She
shrugged it off but his expression didn’t lighten.

He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.

“You want a shower? The hot water might fix it. Worked
wonders for my aching muscles.”

Megan’s eyes widened, darted to the chiselled expanse of his
bare torso and the muscles in question, and then back to his eyes. She wouldn’t
be able to shower without imagining him in there with her and that was a recipe
for disaster.

“No, it’s fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. He dropped his smaller towel on
the back of the couch, grabbed her shoulders and firmly turned her towards the
blank television.

His hands were hot against her bare shoulders, teasing her
senses. She stared at the television screen and it blurred, all of her focus
switching to the points where he was touching her despite her best efforts to
remain aware of everything and not lose herself in him.

“I’ll fix it then,” he said, voice deeper and huskier than
before. “You fixed me after all.”

She didn’t have a chance to refuse.

His hands settled against her neck and she struggled to keep
her eyes open as he began to massage the tension away. There was strength in
his large hands but he was gentle with her, never applying too much pressure,
his movements slow and almost sensual. He carefully slid his fingers along the
line of her jaw, sending a wave of tingles down her throat to her breasts, and
eased her head around, cracking her neck. She lost her battle against her eyes.
They fell shut as she savoured the feel of his hands on her, strong and
commanding, and a little hot against her skin, and she melted into the couch.

“You’re good at this,” she murmured, breathless and unable
to get her voice above a whisper. “Most people don’t know what they’re doing.”

“I used to give my little sister massages whenever she hurt
herself... which was often.” The warmth in his tone said he adored his sister
and that her exploits had always amused him.

His fingers caressed her jaw, sending another cascade of
tingles down to her breasts, causing her nipples to tighten and ache, and then
his hands settled on her shoulders. His thumbs brushed the nape of her neck,
tickling her and making her shiver, stirring that wicked heat in her veins
again until it licked at her resolve, beginning to burn it to ashes.

He whispered something she didn’t quite catch, something
about touching. Her breathing hitched when he leaned over her, nudging her head
forwards so her shoulder-length hair fell away from her nape. His breath teased
the fine hairs on her neck, making them stand on end, and her stomach tightened
with anticipation, with the ridiculous thought that he might kiss her for some
reason.

She wanted to feel his mouth on her skin.

“Isn’t that a sight for a Hallmark card?”

Megan tensed at the unfamiliar bass voice.

Her eyes snapped open.