Off-Limits Mate (Brides for Beasts Book 2), page 1
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Off-Limits Mate
Brides for Beasts
Candace Ayers
Kym Dillon
Contents
Introduction
1. Baylin
2. Xandros
3. Baylin
4. Xandros
5. Baylin
6. Xandros
7. Baylin
8. Xandros
9. Baylin
10. Xandros
11. Baylin
12. Xandros
13. Baylin
14. Baylin
15. Baylin
Epilogue: Baylin
About the Author
**Please note that the timelines for the books in this series overlap in such a way that the series builds on itself. More information is revealed in each book.**
Chapter 1
Baylin
The sleek black dress is elegant in its simplicity. Couple it with a pair of silver earrings, and it might just do the trick. I slip into it, arrange the fabric over my curves, and catch my reflection.
Hmm...I chew my lip in contemplation.
"Not bad, Baylin. You could almost pass for a discount drugstore Audrey Hepburn."
I twirl, once, twice, before the grim reality hits me. It's not a 1960s-themed cocktail party. I'm trying to compete with a group of virtual supermodels. One more spin for Audrey, then it’s off with the dress.
You know what they say about trying on clothes. It's fun until it's not. And right now, surrounded by a textile tornado, the vote is leaning toward 'not'.
I stare down my opponent—a full-length mirror with too much honesty and not enough tact.
The silence in the rustic log cabin is only broken by the occasional sound of a discarded hanger hitting the floor.
Confidence, that’s the key.
Yet, there I am again, second-guessing my outfit. But honestly, some of these women in the program look like they walked right off the cover of Vogue. Against them, I'm like an adorable penguin stranded in the Sahara. I mean, a little bit of wardrobe warfare can’t hurt.
Next contender, a casual jeans and blouse combo. Hmm... I add a scarf thinking maybe I'll look artsy. The mirror says I look like a soccer mom.
"Okay, okay." I wave a flag of surrender to my reflection. "We need a different approach."
With a renewed sense of determination, I rifle through my suitcase for another dress—something that screams potential bride, not 'help, I’ve lost my way to the zoo'.
I find a deep red dress and pair it with delicate gold accessories. It’s loose, but somehow alluring. It hides what needs hiding, shows what needs showing—it's the perfect middle-ground.
Except...I catch my reflection again, and there’s a niggling doubt at the back of my mind. "Am I too..." My gaze drops to my midsection. “Fat."
Nope, don’t go there, Baylin.
But seriously, here I am like some desperate, chubby Cinderella frantically hoping to land myself a hubby before the clock strikes midnight.
It’s a crazy plan. Marrying a stranger, and well, consummating said marriage as soon as possible. Yeah, yeah, I know, not the best of ideas, but sometimes, the best ideas are just that—ideas. This is survival.
A tendril of guilt slithers through me. If I'm successful, this won't be fair to the guy.
"If you're successful," I say to my mirror self. “That’s a big if.”
But, succeed I must. Because a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do—fair or unfair, right?
I take one final look, smoothing out the fabric of the red dress over my hips, tilting my head in contemplation. Yes, this is it. This dress and I, we're about to take the BfB grooms by storm. I lock eyes with my reflection, but what I see looking back is not confidence, it’s worry and unease.
"Forget him. He didn't deserve you and he can't touch you if he can't find you."
A sigh escapes me as I think about LA. The city of angels, where I fell from grace. I've got nothing left there—no job, no second chances, nothing. But what I long for isn't a city of angels, it's stability and safety. A place to call home.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I’ve got to believe that everything is going to work out.
Hopes high, I step out of the cabin. This is it.
"Let's do this, Baylin. Let's go find a husband."
Chapter 2
Xandros
“I've died and gone to heaven.” Waylon slaps a hand on my shoulder as we enter the cocktail party. I don't disagree.
My dream of having a marriage like my parents have has always been elusive. Now, with this BfB program, my dream is finally within reach.
"This place, huh?" My gaze roves over the veritable ocean of human femininity at the cocktail party. “A feast for the eyes.”
Hernon follows my gaze. “Oh, more than the eyes my friend. More than the eyes.”
Lake looks overwhelmed. "How are we ever going to choose?"
My eyes land on an ebony goddess towering above a curvaceous blonde next to a pair of large-busted identical twins. “I have no idea.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Silas urges, “time to mingle.”
I can't help but grin as I beeline it to the tall, dark-skinned woman whose dress clings to her like a second skin. Hello.
"I must say," I begin, eyeing the gorgeous group of women, "I'm a little overwhelmed by all the beauty here." Corny, but what the hell? The women outnumber the men three to one tonight. I can afford to be corny.
The blonde giggles. Her hand lightly touches my arm. "Oh, we can't have that."
Her touch is pleasant and I find myself mirroring her grin. "What do you suggest then?"
A look of mock seriousness crosses her face. "We could... take turns?"
Her suggestion causes a burst of laughter to ripple through the group. The twins exchange a glance before chiming in unison, "Or we could share!"
The tall woman shakes her head, her demeanor sultry and seductive. "Ladies, ladies, let's not be greedy."
This is like being in the middle of a game of tug of war where I'm the rope. And quite honestly, it's an awesome place to be.
"Yes, ladies, no need to squabble. There's plenty of me to go around."
The blonde bursts into giggles, her fingers dancing over my arm like she's playing the piano. "You're quite the charmer, aren't you?"
I flash her my most charming grin. "Just trying to keep up with you, darlin'." If I get any cheesier, I might turn into a block of cheddar.
The twins, on the other hand, are working as a coordinated unit, bouncing back and forth like a well-played tennis match.
"We could," one starts, then glances at her sister.
"Show you the time of your life," the other finishes, both their eyes twinkling mischievously.
As their laughter fills the air, my gaze travels to the towering beauty, still a good five or so inches shorter than me. She carries herself with an abundance of poise and confidence and arches a brow before a wicked smile crosses her face. "I'm not the sharing type."
My God, this evening is turning out to be the highlight reel of my existence. These ladies are like bees to honey, fawning, giggling, blushing—it's payback for all those dry years. It has to be.
I've been with women, we all have, but only on the rare occasion we travel to human cities and towns. And when we do, we don't stay long. It's always been frowned upon to fraternize with humans. Which is why this BfB program is a dream come true.
One of the twins—I'm having a hard time telling them apart—whispers something in my ear that would make even a seasoned sexworker blush.
"Careful," I warn with a grin, "I might just take you up on that."
The blonde, bless her heart, is keeping up the pace. "You're not like other men," she purrs, tracing the edge of my collar with her finger.
"I'm one of a kind, sweetheart." I wink at her.
The tall beauty remains more aloof, but her eyes hold an unmistakable “come hither” message.
As I weave my way through flirty comments and seductive glances, a thought worms its way into my head.
What if I want to have my cake and eat it too?
I love the thought of the marriage thing—just not the one-woman part.
Maybe I could start a harem!
The idea lodges itself in my brain. The more I look at these women—a smorgasbord of strong, beautiful, unique femininity, I wonder—why choose?
My eyes dance over the crowd…and what they land on is a sight to behold. She’s the most beautiful woman I have
It's as if someone suddenly pulls the plug on a chatty, giggly, flirty soundtrack, and everything around me dims to a hushed whisper.
She’s… Wow!
She's standing in the corner next to another woman, a drink in her hand and a far-off look in her eye. She doesn’t notice me.
There's an ethereal beauty about her, like a work of art—a beautiful painting or a magnificent landscape—something so captivating you can't help but stare at it.
Her hair is chestnut, her eyes are hazel and, while the other women in the room are all attractive, this woman is a level above—she’s exquisite in a way that makes my heart trip over itself.
My bear comes to life, pawing my insides and sniffing the air. She’s the one.
Look at me. Come on, look at me.
She doesn't notice me, but her friend does.
I want to go over there, but my whole body is frozen. I'm obsessed. She has to be mine. I have to make that woman mine.
One of the twins tugs at my arm, saying something about a dance.
"Yeah, sure, dance. Go ahead," I mumble, my gaze never leaving the enchanting vision in the corner.
The blonde attempts to rekindle my attention by batting her lashes, leaning closer, and pouting. "Xandros, you're not listening to me."
"Mm-hmm," is all I manage, still entranced by the captivating woman.
It's like a punch to the gut, a shock to the system, a Taser to the genitals.
This sudden gravitational pull is unfamiliar and frighteningly intense.
Every logical thought, every fleeting consideration about harems fades to oblivion.
I see only her.
Chapter 3
Baylin
Never in my life have I felt so out of place. Handsome men strut through the venue like gods walking the Earth—Adonis specimens, all chiseled jaws and bulging muscles. The women swarming them like flies on shit are equally as beautiful. It’s like I accidentally walked into a model convention. And here I am, the awkward piece of celery in an otherwise gourmet spread.
Surely, there's a catch. What would men like these be doing in an arranged marriage program? Are they secret serial killers?
I hope not, but beggars can't be choosers.
Pulling myself together, I scan the room for someone who doesn’t look like they walked off the cover of a romance novel, and see a woman standing alone in a corner. She's wearing a simple blue dress that matches her kind eyes and she looks as out of place as I feel.
I approach her, plastering a smile on my face. "Hi, I'm Baylin."
"Hey." She returns my smile and adds a small wave. “Alice.”
Alice is cute, but not one of the supermodels here. She's more like me—average.
I lean in. "Is it just me or is this like an episode of The Bachelor?"
Alice laughs, nodding in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. How are these guys single?"
"I know! Surely there must be something wrong with them. Maybe they have third nipples.” We both eye the delicious menagerie.
“Maybe they fart uncontrollably in their sleep,” she giggles.
“Maybe they're secretly werewolves."
“Don’t say that!” Alice’s smile falls, and her eyes widen in horror. “I’d totally overlook extra nipples and smelly gas, but werewo—” her whole body shudders in revulsion. “Don’t even joke about something that.”
“Well, it's hard not to feel a bit...intimidated."
Alice sighs and shakes her head. "You're not the only one. I feel like a dandelion in a field of roses."
Hmm…same, but I pat Alice’s arm reassuringly and try to offer some words of comfort—for myself as much as for her. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
I down the rest of my drink, then notice Alice's eyes widening in a peculiar way. "What is it?"
She leans closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, speaking of beholders... One hasn't taken his eyes off you in the last five minutes."
I almost choke. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack," Alice nods in the direction behind me. "And he's making his way over here."
My stomach flips. "He's coming over here?!" I turn around. "Who?"
Alice just gives me a comforting pat on the shoulder. "You've got a beholder, beauty."
Sure enough, a man is elbowing his way through the crowded room straight to me. And he's take-your-breath-away gorgeous.
Cue my heart thumping like a bongo drum.
His eyes are latched onto me as he elbows his way through the crowd of women.
"Hello, I'm Xandros." The hunky Greek god of a man stares at me as though he’s starving and I’m a steak dinner. Are his eyes…glowing?
"Hi." I swallow down the butterflies. “Nice to meet you. I’m Baylin."
"The pleasure is all mine." He grins, and I swear I fight the sudden urge to get all swoony and fan away the vapors.
His eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that tells me he's smiling under his rugged beard.
"Baylin." He repeats, as though testing the word on his tongue. I swear, if he keeps looking at me like he wants to devour me whole, I might just pass out cold. His eyes fall to my empty glass. “Can I get you another?"
“Sure.” I shrug. “Club soda.”
The moment he turns and heads to the bar, I wonder if I’ve screwed up by letting him leave. I turn to Alice, but she’s gone.
Odds are, so is Xandros.
But Xandros returns—faster than seems humanly possible given the fact that not only does he bring club soda—a pitcher of it—but he also has two plates, each piled a foot high with hors d'oeuvres.
He ushers me over to a small table and places both plates, a clean glass, and the picture of club soda in front of me.
He's attentive. Like, really attentive.
He seats himself in the other chair—after moving it so it's flush up against mine.
“Try this. It's a crab puff.” Xandros feeds it to me—yes, feeds it to me. I should probably be all sensual and seductive and suck his finger or something, but I'm hungry. And awkward.
What do I even say to this man? I should have prepared something— an introduction, flirty pickup lines, something.
"You must enjoy being the center of attention. It looked like you were compiling a personal harem with all the women hanging on you."
Smooth Baylin. Real smooth. Your seduction skills are subpar.
Xandros makes a choking sound. "Harem?" He grins sheepishly. "Actually, no. That’s not my style. Not at all."
Really? Because his ex-harem is mean-mugging me as we speak.
He flashes me a warm smile. "I'm definitely a one-woman kind of guy.” He holds a stuffed mushroom to my lips. “Here, try this.”
I have to admit, he seems genuinely interested in me and only me. Either that or he's a great actor.
He feeds me crab puffs, salmon croquettes, mushroom caps, and a whole other assortment of finger foods—and yes, he continues to feed them to me like I’m a child. Hey, who am I to complain?
I open my mouth for a prosciutto-wrapped fig—those suckers are delicious—when a curly-haired brunette saunters up to us, giving Xandros a come-hither look that probably has most men eating out of her palm.
Xandros doesn't even blink, just raises a brow. "Sorry, I'm kind of in the middle of a very important conversation here."
Her mouth drops open slightly before she mumbles something about seeing him later, and slinks away, her ego visibly dented. I can't help but stare at Xandros, utterly dumbfounded.
"Why do you keep doing that?" A smile plays on my lips.
"Doing what?"
"Brushing off other women like that." I gesture to the still-sulky brunette.
"I told you, I'm a one-woman kind of guy, and I don't want to be distracted from my woman." His words cause a sudden rush of warmth to bloom in my core.
