Excerpt for Love Me Broken by , available in its entirety at Smashwords

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

Copyright© 2017 Angelique Voisen

ISBN: 978-1-77339-531-9

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Karyn White


WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


To Evernight, for giving this book a home. To my readers, I hope you enjoy Jaime and Franco’s story as much as I loved writing it


Lost Omegas, 2

Angelique Voisen

Copyright © 2017


Franco Antico sat in the darkened interior of his beat-up Toyota while he bled out. His left arm hung limply by his side, sending steady pulses of pain. The adrenaline surging through his veins during the gunfight ebbed, replacing excitement with exhaustion and weariness.

Never hurt to be too paranoid. Franco rolled his window down and took a second look at the motel parking lot. Aside from the silent cars and RVs, he was alone. Good. Besides, only transients and adventurous nomads came by this way. They never lingered long and made the effort to avoid other guests, like they had a secret code. They’d been long enough at this to know.

His wolf scented the air, searching for the fuckers out for his blood. Sensing no threat, Franco relaxed a little. He’d made a clean getaway, although he’d never tell his anxious mate, Jaime, that he’d barely made it.

If Franco had the time, he’d strap on a pair of balls, pick up a knife, and dig out the silver bullet. With enough cajoling and the promise of a reward, Jaime might do it, despite his aversion to blood. Might even cross that one final line they’d been working towards. Jaime said he was tired of waiting, and Franco was tempted to claim what was rightfully his. Franco had plenty of ideas, too. Dirty deeds he’d like to do to his eager and submissive mate.

If they had all the time in the world … but they didn’t. Time was always too short, too insufficient.

He calmed his breathing and galloping heartbeats, steeling himself for what he was about to do next. Franco kept turning the puzzle pieces in his head. No matter how he looked at it, he only saw a single solution, one fucking hard choice to make.

“We’ve had a good run,” Franco whispered to himself.

His stomach churned. The pain in his arm became an insignificant thing compared to the hurt he was about to inflict on his mate. Sweet Jaime. His always, destined to be Franco’s other half from the moment he was born.

Jaime would curse him. Hate Franco. Wish him dead, but Franco hoped someday, Jaime would understand.

Ten years ago, they saw their town and pack burn. The aggressive enemy pack that wanted them dead had only sought one thing: to capture and breed the Trinity Valley pack’s valuable Omegas, who were capable of carrying naturally born and pureblooded pups to full-term. Together with the other assigned werewolf protectors, Franco had agreed they should all split up, run, and keep their precious Omega mates safe. They’d optimistically aimed to give them a new start and forget the past.

“This isn’t much of a fucking life. We’re barely living.”

Franco wondered who he was trying to convince, talking to himself like a crazy bastard. Himself, perhaps, but it didn’t help him much. It certainly didn’t give him the strength he needed to deliver the final and painful blow.

After their home burned, they’d run, learned to blend in with humans, took odd jobs to survive, and barely made out of some situations. For ten years, they’d existed like hunted animals, moving from one place to the next.

As a result, Jaime never had the chance to form connections or experience anything else except life on the lonely road with Franco. A string of roach-infested motels, dusty gravel roads, and shady strangers—that was what Franco had to offer. Franco wanted so much more for Jaime, for them. Not this hellish nightmare.

Franco let out a frustrated breath. It wouldn’t be long before the Evenfall pack fuckers closed in on Franco’s scent, so he had to man up.

Now or never. Franco yanked the door open and practically stumbled out into the lot and would have fallen on his knees if he hadn’t placed his good hand on the car to steady his balance. He walked to the room where Jaime waited. He’d been wringing his hands since sundown, when Franco got word from his numerous sources that trackers from Evenfall had picked up their trail.

Fuck this. Jaime had just turned eighteen. He should be starting college by now. Spend weekends getting wasted and high. Doing all the stupid things young men did, not worrying about Franco’s life.

Franco fumbled with the hotel keycard and managed to slot it in on the third try. The door clicked open, revealing Jaime, pale and holding the revolver steady, the way Franco had taught him. Seeing him, Jaime expelled a sigh of relief. Franco said nothing. Jaime tucked the gun away, walked up to Franco, and childishly pushed his shoulder. Franco gritted his teeth as the pain in his arm flared.

“You fucking asshole. Didn’t you say you’d call me?” Jaime demanded.

“Sorry, had some things on my mind,” Franco said, his voice hoarse.

Jaime snorted, came close, and wrapped his lean arms around Franco. He buried his golden head into Franco’s shoulder, and at Franco’s grunt, his blue eyes widened. He touched the blood-soaked strips of cloth Franco used to contain the bleeding.

“You’re hurt. Let me get the first aid kit.”

They never traveled without one. The kit, like the guns and fake identity cards and stack of cash from their dwindling bank account, made their list of essentials. Another reminder of how abnormal their life was.

“Forget that.” Franco grabbed Jaime’s hand when Jaime began to move towards their luggage, always packed and ready to go.

“Franco, what’s wrong?” Jaime asked, features melting into genuine concern.

Franco tried to talk. A low growl came out instead. His wolf didn’t like this. It opposed separation from its mate with such vehemence that Franco faltered for a second. He leashed the beast with some effort. It was either die together, or give Jaime a head-start. The decision was clear.

Why was this so damn hard?

Fuck, the world was unfair. Brutal.

Franco had been an abandoned pup left on the doorsteps of one of the Trinity Valley pack members. The Anticos had cared for him, raised him as their own, and beamed with pride when the pack seers decreed Jaime was his fated mate. Franco had sworn an oath to protect Jaime from anything that wanted to hurt him. Everything seemed so simple then. Uncomplicated. Then Franco lost everything.

Did he have to lose Jaime, too? His sole reason for living?

“You’re scaring me, baby. Was the intel wrong? Did the fight go downhill?” Jaime asked, about to touch the wound again, but Franco gripped his slender wrists with his good hand.

Jaime expelled a breath. His pulse leaped against Franco’s touch, a combination of fear and excitement. Jaime always liked a little bite, to surrender his control to Franco in the bedroom, even though they hadn’t gone past the final line. Some dominant wolves liked that—a feisty and willful Omega to break. The thought made Franco sick in the stomach. What would the Evenfall wolves do to Jaime, if they got their hands on him?

Unthinkable. Franco pulled Jaime to him again, fisting Jaime’s hair to see his blue eyes widen, flecks of gold seeping through. Jaime’s wolf peeked back at Franco, and Franco wondered if the animal sensed anything wrong. Franco angled Jaime’s head for a kiss. He took it all in—Jaime’s unique scent and heat—like it was his own.

When he released Jaime’s lips, Jaime whispered, “Franco, why do you taste of farewells and sorrows?”

Franco leaned his forehead against his mate’s, his breaths coming out harsh and uneven. “I’m sorry, baby. I failed you. Us. There’s no other way but to part.”

Jaime opened his mouth, then closed it—a familiar stubborn expression on his face. Franco would have welcomed a verbal battle any other time. Their debates kept the heat alive and made each day interesting. Franco wrapped a hand around Jaime’s slender throat, watching his eyes widen with surprise. He didn’t squeeze, not at first anyway. He stroked the cords there, gaze latching onto the spot he’d never had the guts to place his personal brand—his mating mark, so the world would know Jaime belonged to him.

Franco had thought about it. Often. How he’d go about it, wooing his mate. He planned to take Jaime somewhere special and give him one hell of a surprise.

“Franco, no,” Jaime breathed, aiming those wounded baby blues at him, knowing how lethal they were.

“Don’t start. We don’t have the time.”

Franco’s skin prickled. Outside, the wind howled. Engines purred. He counted four cars and sensed a dozen enemies, every one of them eager to color their hands crimson with his blood. Same hands they’d use on his Jaime. Fuck.

Franco said the two words that would haunt him in the years to come, tormenting him in his sleep in their inadequacy. “I’m sorry.”

He brushed Jaime’s jugular with his thumb. Franco never thought he’d ever need to wield his intimate knowledge of Jaime’s body like a weapon, but he’d despise himself some other day. His fingers blurred. Jaime didn’t register the blow. He slumped forward, but Franco caught him with his good arm. Swallowing, Franco placed Jaime gently down the bed. He rummaged through the black duffel containing their weapons.

Time for some flash and bang. Franco’s eyes lingered on the AK-47 for a moment. Gunning down those fuckers with a hail of silver bullets would give him ultimate satisfaction, but he only had one good arm. Besides, the damage and noise would lure the local authorities, maybe even the Supernatural Council, to them.

Franco couldn’t have that. Survival Rule Number Seven: Avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Ignoring his wolf’s hunger for blood and violence, Franco carefully took four M84 stun grenades. He slumped Jaime’s unconscious form over his shoulder, walked to the front door, and took a deep breath.

The cocky bastards outside hollered and made wolf whistles, taunting them. Franco kicked the door open. Wood splintered. He detonated the first grenade, pulling the pin with his teeth. He tossed it at the first two idiots charging at them with rifles.

Franco got out of the device’s reach, but his sensitive werewolf eardrums still rang. His second aim was off, but it did its work, sending the assholes on their knees and stunning their senses. He got hit in three places. Franco staggered to his car. From the corner of his eye, two gaunt wolves the size of small horses charged.

After making sure Jaime was strapped in his seat, Franco threw the last grenade like a baseball. It flew through the air and bounced on the muzzle of one before going off. They howled. Hearing the start of an engine other than his own, Franco got to the driver’s seat and started the ignition.

Beside him, Jaime moaned. By the time Franco drove out of the parking lot, Jaime was wide-awake, rubbing at his eyes.

“You bastard.”

Franco spied a black hummer following them, the aggressive and pissed-off energy from the shifters inside the vehicle nearly staggering. No surprise. Franco gave them enough trouble on his own, and werewolves didn’t tolerate defeat. They would die, chasing after their prize.

“Yell at me later. Take the shotgun by your feet. I can’t shoot and drive.” Franco didn’t need to take his eyes off the road to know Jaime followed his commands. He heard the click of the safety, the roll of the window, and Jaime taking aim.

They worked well as a unit, but Franco knew facing this dozen was only the start of their problems. He’d learned after one of his fellow Trinity Valley Protectors, Caleb, decimated most of the Evenfall Pack members, that their enemies wanted retribution.

The shoot-out he’d eavesdropped on that had gotten him shot had been a meeting. Franco learned the surviving Evenfall members started making deals with allied packs, promising them a share of the loot—spoils of war.

Christ. Dealing with one aggressive pack had been hard enough, but three more? They all needed to go deep underground. Caleb and some of the others took big risks by placing their Omegas under the care and safekeeping of others, while they hunted their enemies down.

Franco had been the weak one. He couldn’t cave, couldn’t give Jaime up, but now he didn’t have a choice. Calling Vicious, the unacknowledged leader of the Protectors, had been a good choice. Vicious had given Franco a good talking to, the tough love he needed.

Vicious’s parting advice had been brutal, but true. “Be fucking selfish. Die together, or part. Let your mate live.”

“Hell yeah!” Jaime shrieked.

From his rearview mirror, Franco saw Jaime had managed to hit one of the hummer’s front tires. The vehicle careened to the side, before coming to a stop and nearly hitting a tree. Franco couldn’t help it. A grin of pride spread from the corner of his lips.

“Good job, baby.”

“Good job? Please. That was a fucking wicked shot.” Jaime settled back in his seat. His smug look turned serious. Franco spared his mate a glance to see Jaime fingering the barrel of the shotgun. He really should have anticipated Jaime’s next move.

The next thing Franco knew, Jaime swung the weapon and pressed the cold metal against the side of Franco’s head. Unlike his steady aim a moment ago, Jaime’s hand shook badly. It would be easy for Franco to take the gun away, but he decided to try for negotiation.

“Where are you taking me?” Jaime demanded.

“Somewhere safe.” Franco took a deep breath and told Jaime about what happened. Dead silence. Franco couldn’t tell what Jaime was thinking, so he said, “They’ll keep you safe and away from the prying eyes of the Evenfall survivors and their new allies.”

“I don’t want to be with strangers.” Jaime practically spat out the last word.

Franco used that opportunity to grab the gun muzzle. A random shot fired, hitting the roof harmlessly. He lost control of the wheel for a couple of seconds. The car screeched.

“Fuck, Franco.” Jaime reached for the wheel, righting the vehicle’s path.

Franco rolled down his own window, tossed the gun out for good measure, and then took over for Jaime again. Jaime glared at him.

“You’ve made your point. I thought we always made decisions together. Did you think I’d go along with this lame-ass plan of yours? You woke up today and decided I’m unnecessary burden, is that it?”

Damn it, Jaime had a lot of ammunition today. Franco always thought Jaime should have been born a hellcat, not a wolf. He knew Jaime wouldn’t make this any easier, so he had to harden up.

“Of course not. You know me better than that. I spoke with the others. They said this was for the best. Our enemies have my scent and can track me. Yours, they don’t. If you suppress your wolf, they’ll never find you.”

“Right,” Jaime said, tone bitter. “Of course.”

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