Apex Predator (The Game Series Book 11), page 1
APEX PREDATOR
THE GAME SERIES
BOOK 11
CARA DEE
Apex Predator
Copyright © 2023 by Cara Dee
All rights reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be reproduced in any way without documented permission of the author, not including brief quotes with links and/or credit to the source. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction and all references to historical events, persons living or dead, and locations are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.
Formatted by Eliza Rae Services.
CONTENTS
Welcome to the Games
Part I
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Part II
Prologue
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
More from Cara
About Cara
WELCOME TO THE GAMES
The Game Series is a BDSM series where romance meets the reality of kink. Sometimes we fall for someone we don’t match with, sometimes vanilla business gets in the way of kinky pleasure, and sometimes we have to compromise and push ourselves to overcome trauma and insecurities. No matter what, one thing is certain. This is not a perfect world—and maybe that’s why the happily ever after feels so good.
Apex Predator is the eleventh book in The Game Series. The characters in the Game Series cross over in multiple books, as we follow not only new love interests but the background friendships and dynamics of a thriving kink community. The story of Lane, Ty, Macklin, and Walker begins here—but if you’re interested in secondary characters and the Mclean House journey, you won’t regret starting at the beginning.
The Game Series
Book 1: Top Priority – Lucas/Colt – Are you ready for the Games?
Book 2: Their Boy – Kit/Colt/Lucas – Welcome to the Games: The Hunt
Book 3: Breathless – Shay/Reese/River – The Game: The Cages
Book 3.5: The Air That I Breathe – River/Reese
Book 4: Doll Parts – Noa/KC/Cam/Lucian – The Game: Welcome to the Funhouse
Book 5: Out of the Ashes – Kingsley/Tate + Franklin – The Game: The Brat Boot Camp
Book 6: The Shepherd – Greer/Archie/Sloan – The Game: Canceled
Book 7: Adrift in the Embers – Corey/Sloan/Greer/Archie – The Game: Postponed
Book 8: Hostile Takeover – Franklin/Jack + Kingsley/Tate – The Game: Senseless
Book 9: Senseless – Multiple POVs – The Game: Senseless
Book 10: The Secret Plan – Colt/Kit/Lucas – The Game: Back after the holidays
Book 11: Apex Predator – Lane/Ty & Macklin/Walker – The Game: Picture Perfect, Part I
PART 1
PROLOGUE
December 20
Macklin McKenna
I took a swig from the bottle, brushing my fingers over the brass number on the door. Number 9. This used to be my home. His home. Our home, after he’d asked me to move in.
Someone else lived there now.
I hiccupped and rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes. Then I drank some more vodka and headed next door. Number 11. I knocked three times, hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
The way I figured…if anyone could understand, it was him.
Urgh. Paint dots. They bothered me. I leaned against the doorframe and squinted at a little drop of dried paint, and I couldn’t stand it. I had to scratch it off.
In between sips of tasteless, weak vodka, I managed to remove the little excess paint, and I looked closer. Huh. Underneath the gray paint was dark green. Who’d a fuckin’ thunk it?!
“Whoa.” I stumbled back as the door opened.
Dean stood there. A blurry version of him.
“Did you know the doorframes used to be green?” I asked.
Professor Blurry Dean looked concerned and a little amused. “Rough night?”
“Blah.” I handed over the vodka bottle to him and walked past him.
I kicked off my shoes and jacket.
This was nice. He’d only returned to DC a few weeks ago, and his condo was already back in order. Just the way I remembered the place, with its dark walls in natural colors, countless bookcases, chesterfield furniture, and expensive rugs.
He was such a professor.
Like, the stereotypical kind. Only thing missing, really, was corduroy. He already rocked his salt-and-pepper hair and trimmed beard, and the occasional cashmere sweater vest too.
“How did you get your place, you know, all Dean-like again so fast?”
He closed the door and set the vodka on a shelf I couldn’t reach.
Bastard.
“I never rented it out,” he replied.
Oh. Well, I guessed that made sense. Stanford had all but begged him to teach there for a few quarters, so I bet they’d paid for his accommodations. Plus a hefty salary. But now he was back home, and he was returning to GW after the holidays.
I slumped down on his couch and eyed the fire in the corner. I loved old buildings like this one. Walker and I had had a fireplace too. Though, our coffee table had been tidy. Dean’s was littered with books and printouts.
“How are you feeling, dear?”
I scrunched my nose and leaned back. “Like shit. And you know whose fault that is?”
He sighed and walked over to his old-fashioned drink cart. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say Walker.”
I tapped my nose and nodded, even though he had his back to me while he poured himself a drink. “Correct,” I said. “Your stupid little brother. Fucker won’t stop haunting me.”
I saw him here too. Not in too many places, but Dean had a handful of family photos on the walls, and he was closest to Walker. They weren’t related by blood, but they were similar, nonetheless. Dean was…how old? Fuck. No, I could do this. Walker was almost forty-eight, and Dean was six or seven years older, so that was…math.
I scrubbed vigorously at my face, trying to clear the fog.
They were a long way from Knoxville, Tennessee. Most of the time, you only picked up a hint of a Southern drawl. They’d toned down their accents in college.
They were both Doms too.
“Does it feel good to be back home?” I asked. “How’s kink life in San Francisco?”
He smiled a little and brought his whiskey or whatever to the couch, and he sat down next to me with a grunt. Old-man noises. “Rather wild, I must say. There’s an old scene and a young scene. You don’t want to end up in the wrong one.”
I laughed. “I’d definitely go for the old one. Bunch’a hot Daddies all over the place.”
I was glad Dean was home again, though. He belonged with us at Mclean House. Walker and I had recruited him when things were still good between us. Between Walker and me.
It hadn’t been awkward, to be honest. Primarily because we’d avoided attending the same events if they were on the smaller side. If they were big, there was no issue. Our community was large enough that you could get lost in a crowd. And then when Walker and I were over, Dean and I had an unspoken agreement to keep avoiding each other, just not as strictly as before. So…maybe he’d ended up at a private event I’d hosted not long ago, and maybe I’d seen his naked ass while he plowed someone else.
It was a nice ass. I was allowed to say that about my brother-in-law. It didn’t mean anything. Besides, I was thirty years old and in a very open relationship. It went without saying that I looked.
“So what did Walker do this time?”
I lolled my head along the back of the couch and squinted. Dean had a reading lamp right behind him. “His ass isn’t here.”
Dean’s mouth twitched with mirth. “When it is, you flee the country.”
Pish!
I waved him off.
“I didn’t say it should be here,” I muttered. “I’m so done with his ass. Okay—to be fair, I’m more done with him being done with my ass… No, that’s not right. My point is, I was never into his ass, if you know what I mean. He was into mine—every day and twice on Sunday.”
He was so good with my ass.
Dean drained his entire drink. “I’m gonna need one more if we’re going to discuss my brother’s ass.”
I laughed at that. He was so funny. I’d always liked his dry sense of humor.
“What about my ass?” I teased.
“That’s off-limits, my dear boy.”
Hot.
And…fuck. Walker had called me my dear boy a few times too. But mostly, I’d been his little sea monster. The one who begged for Master’s tentacles.
Misery flooded me and made the next exhale heavier.
“I miss him, Dean.”
He inclined his head and returned with a new drink. “I know you do.” He sat down next to me again and gave my leg a squeeze. “If it makes you feel better, he misses you too.”
It did and it didn’t.
We were poison.
“How often do you see him?” I asked.
I felt my forehead crease, and confusion slithered in. The way he’d admitted that…
“You’re gonna have to explain,” I said. “You saw each other all the time when we lived next door.”
He hummed. “Not the way we used to before you entered the picture.”
Holy shit.
I blinked. My heart swam a little faster in a pool of alcohol.
“You mean…”
He smirked faintly. “Indeed.”
“But—”
“We made each other better Doms.”
Huh. Just like that, I could visualize them. Walker had been a strong voice for new members in our community. He’d stressed the importance of beginners seeking out experienced equals rather than finding their first plaything on the opposite side of the kink spectrum. Like, he wanted new Doms to play with Doms who’d been around the block. Same with subs. Who knew the ins and outs, the red flags, the pitfalls, and the submissive mind better than a submissive?
That was in our community guidelines today, and Reese and Penelope and Greer and Lucas and the others preached Walker’s words to newcomers.
My favorite brand of Sadist was the man who’d experienced the pain he exposed masochists to.
Dominance was no different. In my book, a Dom should at least have walked a mile in a sub’s shoes.
It’d just never, not fucking once, crossed my mind to consider Dean as the man who’d made Walker walk a mile in those shoes. And vice versa.
I was sure as fuck picturing them now, though…
Goddamn.
I needed another drink.
“Can—can you grab the, uh…” I coughed and waved in the general direction of where he’d hidden my bottle. “I need more vodka to get that fantasy outta my head.”
I’d reimburse myself at the restaurant after the holidays. I wasn’t supposed to grab booze straight from the bar, and certainly not to drink in the Uber over here. Certainly not a whole bottle… But it was Christmas, and I hated Christmas. Well, I did now when I didn’t have Walker. I was fairly good at hiding how much I still loved him—except for this time of year. He and I had been big on celebrating Christmas with dinners and stuff.
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Dean told me. “I also don’t think it’s wise you tell me about your fantasies. My self-control has limits.”
Woof.
I glanced at him and couldn’t keep the slyness out of my grin. His implication was clear, even to a drunk pile of misery like me.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t.”
I plastered drunken innocence on my face and zipped my lips shut, pretending to throw away the key. “My mind is pure, Sir. I swear.”
He snorted quietly and stood up. “All right. Perhaps if we get absolutely hammered, we’ll pass out quicker.”
I grinned and bit my lip, feeling the first trickle of happiness all week. Which also made me feel like shit because my wonderful boyfriend had been trying to brighten my mood for days. Bless him. Lane just didn’t give up. Thankfully, he was out on a date tonight—and he had another one tomorrow, if I remembered correctly.
“Are you inviting me to stay the night?” I smiled.
“I’m invitin’ you to pass out in my guest room.”
Dean was fun to tease. Possibly because there would be no ramifications. He and I didn’t have that relationship.
“I’m formally requesting a bedtime story,” I said, scratching my cheek. “How about the time you and Walker got down and dirty together for the first time? Did you top him? Did he top you?”
“Oh no, we’re not going there.” He returned with my bottle plus a glass—and another drink for himself. Bottle too. We were doing this.
We were gonna reminisce and drink till we could reminisce and drink no more.
“How’s that my fault?” I exclaimed.
“I didn’t say it was, did I?”
“No, but you’re all accusation-like,” I huffed. Wait. “Accusatory? Accusing…ly?”
“Goodness,” he muttered through a chuckle. “Come on, we need to get some food in you. Otherwise, you’ll never—never sober up. Hell.” He rose from the couch and instantly had to steady himself on the armrest.
Naturally, I laughed my ass off. “That’s karma.”
“But I didn’t accuse you of anythin’,” he argued. “I didn’t say it was your fault we had so few family dinners. If anythin’, I’m blamin’ Walker.” He gestured for me to follow him, so I hauled myself off the couch too. “I think he wanted to keep you to himself. The one time I made a joke about us sharin’ you—mind you, this was less than a week after y’all’d met—he got madder than a wet hen.”
When their Tennessee accents came out to play, I was a happy man. Both Dean and Walker had such smooth, warm, alluring voices that drew people in like magnets.
Only thing hotter was Walker’s morning voice, when the accent was still there, along with gravel.
Hold up.
Share me?
Dean had joked about…
“Wait a minute. Was that a thing you used to do? Share subs?”
“It was a joke,” he reminded me as he opened the fridge. Just like the kitchen we’d had next door, this one was narrow before it opened up to a decently sized dining area. Big enough to host smaller dinner parties. “It’s happened once or twice—nothing we made a habit of.”
“Shame.” I leaned back against the counter and watched him bring out his poison. Two pizza boxes from Dominos.
It made me grin and shake my head.
Dean had a big sweet tooth, which sucked because he’d had diabetes from a young age, and he suppressed his urges to binge on chocolate and cake by keeping the greasiest food on the market in the fridge. He’d never really talked about it, but Walker had told me some downright cute stories. Dean was a night eater too. Which reminded me…
“You know I can still bring you leftovers from the restaurant, hon.” It was so easy to slip back into the brother-in-law role I’d had years ago. When I’d worked late at the restaurant, I’d sometimes bring home food for Dean that he could snack on in the middle of the night—that wouldn’t affect his blood sugar levels or wrap his heart in a layer of saturated fats.
Dean faced me again after placing four slices in the microwave. “You’re sweet, but it’s okay. Not to say I don’t miss havin’ you as a neighbor. You spoiled me.”
I smiled. “I loved taking care of both of you.”
He exhaled a little laugh and folded his arms over his chest. Then he just watched me for a beat, and it was unnerving. Dean knew more about me than my other friends at Mclean. Around them, I could deflect, deny, and hide. Somewhat, anyway. River, Reese, Colt, Lucas…they had enough suspicions. Greer too. And fine, Penelope and Lucian. All the men—and woman—who’d been there from the beginning. They were the kinky seven I’d started Mclean House with. I’d been the kid brother to everyone. And I still was. They looked after me, and I tried to do the same for them. All while keeping my distance.
With Dean, that hadn’t been an option. We’d been family.
“I spoke to Lucian the other day,” he revealed. “He tells me you haven’t been a submissive since Walker left. Is that true?”
Damn. Gossipy fucking Doms.
I tried to shrug it off. “I’ve bottomed and played the part plenty. Don’t forget I’m a switch.”
“Oh, you’re still pushin’ that lie? I see.”
Hey. I frowned and stood straighter. “Excuse me?”
He gave me a pointed look. “When were you ever a Dom?”
“Uh, with my current boyfriend?” Although, as I spoke the words, they rang false even to my own ears. My dominance was a shallow stream in comparison to my submission.
