Soulmarked Box Set Read online

  Table of Contents

  Books by Willa Okati

  Title Page

  Legal Page

  Now and Then

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Only You

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Handle with Care

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  As We Are

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Epilogue

  All Along

  Book five in the Soulmarked series

  Dedication

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Read more from Willa Okati

  More exciting books!

  About the Author

  Pride Publishing books by Willa Okati

  Single title

  Kingsoak

  It Takes Practice

  The Quiet Game

  Flibbertigibbet

  St. Hawk’s Medical

  Take Heart

  Give Chase

  Breathe Deep

  SOULMARKED

  Now and Then

  Only You

  Handle with Care

  As We Are

  All Along

  WILLA OKATI

  Soulmarked

  ISBN # 978-1-78651-726-5

  ©Copyright Willa Okati 2014

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright April 2014

  Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

  Pride Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2019 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

  Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.

  NOW AND THEN

  Book one in the Soulmarked series

  Robbie and Ivan wrought havoc on their first chance at love. Can they mend their fences and find their passion the second time around?

  Soulmarked as mates, Robbie and Ivan come from different worlds. Robbie’s the oldest son in a long line of outlaws who live squarely on the wrong side of the tracks, and Ivan’s family tree is packed with law enforcement. That didn’t stop them from falling in love, but when they risked tearing each other apart, they cared enough to let go and hope they’d find a better life.

  Years later, the strength of their soulbond still burns bright when chance brings Robbie and Ivan together at the football game of the year. The passion they felt for one another is as powerful as ever, bringing them into explosive contact. They’re not the boys they used to be—Robbie’s turned his life around and raised his younger brothers to be good men, and Ivan’s learned to stand tall and mix justice with compassion. But though they want to hope they can be happy now, not everything has changed. Maybe not enough has changed.

  Or has it, after all?

  It’s up to Robbie and Ivan, now. Only they can make the choice that will change their lives forever.

  Dedication

  For J.L. Langley and Kimberly Gardner,

  with thanks.

  Trademark Acknowledgements

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Hells Angels: Hells Angels Motorcycle Corporation

  Oz: L. Frank Baum

  Chapter One

  “Finally.” Nathaniel collided with Robbie, wrapping himself around his brother from the side.

  Robbie was sturdy enough to take the hit without stumbling. He knuckled the boy’s head. “You’re not excited or anything, are you?”

  “Are you kidding? This is amazing.” Nathaniel’s eyes glowed like warm brown stars. He’d never been tall or strong, always the youngest and most in need of looking after, but try to coax him away from his love of sports…well. It’d be easier to teach a dog to climb trees. He ducked away from Robbie’s fond assault on his noggin. “Did you ever think they’d actually finish the coliseum?”

  Honestly? There’d been times Robbie had doubted. Plans for the giant sports center had been drawn up before he was born, and they’d laid the foundation around the same time he’d tried to teach Nathaniel how to ride a bike.

  All good things had their own time, he supposed.

  “I can’t be sure, but I think that means no, he didn’t,” Cade butted in, sandwiching Robbie on his other side. “It can be hard to tell the difference, but that particular subtle nuance of our big brother’s somber demeanor—a hint of a smile—might just mean he’s pleased to be proved wrong. Are you?”

  Robbie rolled his eyes indulgently. Mother Nature must have known Cade’s destiny was to be a middle child. He’d come out of the womb raising hell, and had pounced gleefully on the chance to teach Nathaniel his ways when the youngest boy was born. His brothers were noisy, energetic, affectionate double handfuls of trouble. He had no idea how he could ever do without them.

  He pulled Nathaniel’s ear instead of a lock of his brother’s hair. “I did buy tickets for the first game, opening night,” he said. “Would I have done that if I didn’t have faith things would turn out?”

  “It’d be the first time in your life,” Cade said with careless ease. He caught Nathaniel by the shoulder and hustled him a few steps forward. “I think they might be almost ready to unlock the gates. Come on. I’ll show you how to throw elbows.”

  Ro
bbie shook his head as he watched them go. The gates would open when they opened, and their seats for the first game were numbered. Come in early or come in late, it wouldn’t make any difference…but on the other hand, he couldn’t blame them for their eagerness. Or their teasing him for being a serious-natured bastard. After all, they hadn’t known him in the days when he was different. They weren’t old enough to remember the things Robbie had done. Or to know well most of the people Robbie had known, and those who’d known Robbie in return.

  Some more than others. Some very, very well…

  Robbie rubbed absently at a spot over his breastbone.

  He wasn’t the only one watching his brothers working hard at their playing around. Just ahead, a tall drink of water with a head of wild chestnut curls whistled and elbowed a shorter, ginger man beside him. “Get a load of that, would you?” Chestnut said, helping himself to an ogle of Nathaniel’s trim shoulders and narrow waist. “I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers.”

  “You’d have a hard time finding him in the sheets,” his friend said, apparently not as impressed by Nathaniel. He lifted his chin at Cade. “Now, that one? The way he walks? He’s packing, front and back. That’s more my kind of man. You’re taller. Can you tell if they’ve got soulmarks?”

  “Not as far as I can see, though I’d be glad to get a second look—”

  Chestnut didn’t get to finish what he had to say. Robbie drew himself up to his full six feet of height, took two steps forward to cast his shadow over them and cleared his throat. Some people Robbie could have mentioned would have burst into giggles at the way the rakish pair’s eyes widened. There were advantages to being tall and looking, as Cade usually put it, like the kind of rough, tough and risky sort of man that motorcycles were made for.

  “They haven’t found their mates yet,” Robbie said once he was sure he’d gotten their full attention. “And if I have anything to say about it, nobody’s going to be looking tonight, either.”

  Chestnut squeaked. The corners of Robbie’s mouth quirked up. They understood each other. Good.

  And neither Cade nor Nathaniel had noticed a thing. Well, Cade might have, from his wink at Robbie, but he didn’t pay the pair of chastened gawkers even a crumb of attention.

  “They really are opening up,” Cade said, ducking back to tug at Robbie’s elbow. “You can’t fool me. I know you’ve been looking forward to this for years.”

  True. He had. Even when he’d doubted. Robbie rubbed harder at the uncomfortable, sore spot over his breastbone. He blinked as his head took another of the odd turns he’d dealt with all day long, as fogged-over as if he were drowning on dry land.

  Cade raised an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”

  “Me? Fine.” Robbie pushed the strange, small ache out of his mind. The coliseum, finally open. Major league football less than an hour’s drive away. Family. What more could a man want?

  The iron gates keeping the hemmed-in crowd away from gates to the stadium started to crank back. Robbie kept companionable pace with Cade and kept one eye on Nathaniel. “Show me how to throw elbows, too. I’m not going to be the odd man out.”

  * * * *

  “Forty…fifty… yes!” Ivan pounded Nick’s trim shoulder, accidentally jostling him forward half a pace and spilling a slosh of beer over the rim of his paper cup. Oops. Never mind, he’d pay for a refill later.

  Nick didn’t even notice. “Did you see that?” he yelled through the din. “God, that was a thing of beauty! Fucking team!”

  Next to Nick, Abram shook with laughter. “Barrett’s going to hate our guts for coming to the game when he had to work,” he shouted, the deep heartiness of his baritone carrying where other voices wouldn’t. “What do you want to bet he’s sour for a week?”

  “Nah, not my Barrett,” Nick said, utterly confident. He patted the sturdy woven wristband he wore on his left arm, covering the mark that he and his mate Barrett shared. Not that Ivan had ever seen it, but there was no reason he would have. Soulmarks were private. “I should call him. Let him know the score, at least.”

  Ivan and Abram shared amused grimaces over Nick’s head. Nick and his soulmate were still in the honeymoon stage. Had been for months, and they showed no signs of getting over the head-rush yet. Good for them, in Ivan’s opinion. Those two had been friends for years before their soulmarks had finally shown up. Sometimes it took a while.

  He rubbed at a spot over his breastbone. Sometimes it took a while, yes, and sometimes…sometimes, it happened quickly. He should know.

  Abram frowned at Ivan and gestured vaguely at Ivan’s chest. “Everything all right?”

  “Heartburn,” Ivan said, shaking it off and taking another bite of his giant, soft pretzel coated in spicy mustard. “Worth it, too.”

  Abram tsked at him. “Such a child.”

  “Only two years younger than you,” Ivan said. He licked his fingers. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “I hope so. You’re going to be wearing it all night.”

  Wearing it— Oh. He’d gotten a spot on his shirt. Ivan rubbed at the smudge to no avail. Ah well. No big deal. He could cover the worst with the tie he’d loosened up the second he left work, or if worst came to worst, he’d put his jacket back on. Or take off his shirt altogether. Dealer’s choice, Ivan thought as he polished off the last of his pretzel.

  Why was food eaten out of doors always better, anyway? A mystery for the ages. If the guys at the station could see him now… With his hair disheveled and his collar loose, laughing and roistering with his friends, he doubted any of the other detectives would recognize him.

  Strange, now, to remember he’d wavered over coming to the game. Though he couldn’t have said why—and he’d tried to figure it out all day—the thought of taking a night off had kept Ivan dragging his feet for hours, even when the tickets were bought and the carpool arranged. Drove him half-crazy until he got there, heard the roar of the crowd, and months’ worth of tension had lifted off his shoulders.

  He licked his fingers and laughed at Nick, who was trying to be stealthy about dialing Barrett.

  Abram pretended to tut at him in disapproval, which was less frightening and more hilarious coming from a six-foot-tall former Marine who kept his head shaved as bald as an egg and his goatee as sleek as black velvet. Ivan wasn’t a small man, but Abram made him feel tiny. “God save us from children in love.”

  Ivan scoffed good-naturedly and absently rubbed his knuckles harder over his chest, annoyed by the twinge over his ribs. “You and your mate were just as bad.”

  Abram touched the obsidian mourning bead in his earlobe—a symbol only worn by widowers—with reverence. “Worse, I think. Callum would have the time of his life teasing them. Probably would have some big prank in the works.”

  Ivan didn’t doubt it. Though he hadn’t known Abram’s soulmate, he wished he had. The stories about those two in their prime were the next best thing to local legend, and when Abram needed to keep his hands busy at the station, he’d sketch parts of the soulmark they’d shared.

  Better to have loved and lost, some people said.

  Ivan wasn’t entirely sure about that one. Never had been.

  He made himself stop fiddling with the warm tingle under his collarbone before Abram insisted on checking for damage. He might not have noticed. Nick had just realized he’d lost half his beer, and their paramedic friend was looking to put a hurt on someone. He roared so indignantly it made Abram bellow with laughter.

  Ivan held up his hands, palms out, before Nick could pelt him with the half-melted ice. Cheeky little brat. “My fault! Sorry, my fault. I’ll replace it.”

  “Will you? Good.” Nick tossed back the few sips of beer left to him and thrust the cup at Ivan. “Start now.”

  Abram tipped his cup up. “I wouldn’t mind a refill. If you’re going, that is.”

  “Do I have a choice?” Ivan asked, more or less rhetorically. He couldn’t stop grinning. Leaving aside the odd little aches and pains tha
t came with getting older, there was just something about this stadium, this night, wasn’t there? He could feel it behind his eyes. A sense of something good, of anticipation, excitement, all making him feel like a kid again. More so than he had in years. Something that heated the blood and made him want to run and play, and he would swear it wasn’t just the game.

  “Nope,” Abram and Nick said in unison. Nick winked at Ivan. “Come on. Do your best barmaid impression.”

  “Barmaid this,” Ivan said, waving a joking fist at them. They razzed him.

  “Peanuts, too!” Abram called. He put a casual arm around Nick’s shoulders. Widowers had more leeway. Even if Barrett smelled Abram on Nick later, the possessiveness wouldn’t kick in. Shouldn’t.

  He had to stop spending so much time thinking about mates and soulmarks, Ivan decided. Beer was the best way possible to get started on that. Cups in hand, he threaded his way through the stadium seats and to the steps leading down, taking them two at a time in an easy jog.

  * * * *

  Robbie made a face as he squeezed beer out of the sleeve of his sweater. Leave it to Cade to get so excited about that last goal—not that it hadn’t been worth a few shouts—that he’d popped the lid off his cup and doused everyone within a three-foot radius. Robbie, standing nearest, had gotten the most soaked.

  Still, there was only one grand opening night per coliseum, and Cade had willingly ponied up enough cash to pay for refills all around. Robbie couldn’t get too annoyed.

  He might bring Cade a cup of ginger ale instead of beer, but such was an older brother’s prerogative.

  Robbie grinned, smoothing down the recently-trimmed edges of his beard. Though he’d had it for years, it’d taken seemingly half as long to adjust to the change a beard made on him. Made him look older, especially now with threads of gray growing in, and made him look tougher, but overall he liked the differences. No one questioned his preference for silence—or other life choices—when he appeared tough enough to establish dominance with one hard look.