Dare Me Read online

  Table of Contents

  Part I

  Epilogue - Lucas

  Part II

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Part III

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  Chapter 139

  Chapter 140

  Chapter 141

  Chapter 142

  Chapter 143

  Chapter 144

  Chapter 145

  Chapter 146

  Chapter 147

  Chapter 148

  Chapter 149

  Chapter 150

  Chapter 151

  Chapter 152

  Chapter 153

  Chapter 154

  Chapter 155

  Chapter 156

  Chapter 157

  Chapter 158

  Chapter 159

  Chapter 160

  Chapter 161

  Chapter 162

  Chapter 163

  Part IV

  Epilogue – Skye

  Dare Me

  A Billionaire And a Virgin Romance

  Tara Wylde

  Holly Hart

  Red Cape Romance

  Contents

  Foreword

  Stay in touch!

  Dare Me

  1. Lucas

  2. Lucas

  3. Alexis

  4. Lucas

  5. Alexis

  6. Lucas

  7. Alexis

  8. Lucas

  9. Lucas

  10. Alexis

  11. Lucas

  12. Lucas

  13. Alexis

  14. Alexis

  15. Alexis

  16. Alexis

  17. Alexis

  18. Lucas

  19. Lucas

  20. Alexis

  21. Lucas

  22. Alexis

  23. Alexis

  24. Alexis

  25. Alexis

  26. Lucas

  27. Alexis

  28. Alexis

  29. Alexis

  30. Lucas

  31. Alexis

  32. Alexis

  33. Alexis

  34. Alexis

  35. Lucas

  36. Lucas

  37. Alexis

  38. Alexis

  39. Alexis

  40. Lucas

  41. Alexis

  42. Alexis

  43. Alexis

  44. Alexis

  Epilogue - Lucas

  His Sword

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  104. EPILOGUE: AMANDA

  The Chase

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  Chapter 139

  Chapter 140

  Chapter 141

  Chapter 142

  Chapter 143

  Chapter 144

  Chapter 145

  Chapter 146

  Chapter 147

  Chapter 148

  Chapter 149

  Chapter 1
50

  Chapter 151

  Chapter 152

  Chapter 153

  Chapter 154

  Chapter 155

  Chapter 156

  Chapter 157

  Chapter 158

  Chapter 159

  Chapter 160

  Chapter 161

  Chapter 162

  Chapter 163

  164. EPILOGUE: CASSIE

  Climax

  165. Skye

  166. Skye

  167. Harlan

  168. Skye

  169. Skye

  170. Harlan

  171. Skye

  172. Skye

  173. Skye

  174. Harlan

  175. Skye

  176. Harlan

  177. Skye

  178. Skye

  179. Skye

  180. Harlan

  181. Skye

  182. Harlan

  183. Skye

  184. Harlan

  185. Skye

  186. Harlan

  187. Skye

  188. Harlan

  189. Skye

  190. Harlan

  191. Harlan

  192. Skye

  193. Harlan

  194. Skye

  195. Skye

  Epilogue – Skye

  Stay in touch!

  Foreword

  Hey - it’s Tara and Holly!

  Thanks so much for reading our second novel together. Well, technically Her Seal was just a novella, so this is our first actual full length novel! We’re so grateful that you’re taking some of your busy, hard won time and spending it with us. Truly.

  We hope you enjoy it!

  xoxo

  Holly Hart

  &

  Tara Wylde.

  Copyright © 2017 by Holly Hart, Tara Wylde and Red Cape Romance

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Stay in touch!

  We hope you love this book nearly as much as we loved writing it.

  Sign up here for exclusive reader content, free books and huge giveaways, or click the link below.

  redcaperomance

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  [email protected]

  Part I

  Dare Me

  Lucas

  Light bounces off the polished steel of the rapier, nearly blinding me, before the scrape of steel against steel rattles in my ear.

  Shock waves of pain vibrate up my arm. Behind his mask, my opponent’s teeth flash bright white as he senses my discomfort. In a blindingly quick movement, he slashes with his wrist, the movement slamming the flat side of his weapon into my right wrist. A slightly different angle and my hand and my arm would have parted company forever.

  As it is, dumb luck and years of training are the only things that keep my fingers closed around the hilt of my weapon.

  My opponent doesn’t back down, not even for a split second. He presses his advantage, moving with cat-like grace as his thrusts and parries his weapon, the tip of it dancing closer to my heart. My arm feels heavy, my fingers too stiff to effectively block him. If I don’t do something, and fast, his next thrust will strike its target.

  I grit my teeth.

  I should retreat, put some distance between my body and his, dance out of the way of his weapon until sensation returns to my arm and I’m able to use it properly, but I don’t.

  I can’t.

  I’ve never been the kind of guy to back down, not even when it’s in my best interest – and I’m not going to start now.

  So, instead of backing up and giving myself some space, I lunge forward, getting right up into my opponent’s face. We’re too close for either of us to use our weapons effectively, which is bad for him, but gives my arm a couple of seconds to recover.

  It won’t take long. I’ve always recovered fast.

  The sloppy grin fades from my opponent’s face. I practically hear him gritting his teeth as, too late, he attempts to brace for my charge.

  I flex my fingers. They still feel clumsy and numb, so using my weapon isn’t a viable option. So, I turn to the next best thing, my body.

  I keep pressing forward, invading my opponent's personal space, forcing him to scramble back, and pushing him off balance until…

  He loses his footing and crashes to the floor, spittle. Without missing a beat, I flourish my own weapon and press it to the middle of his chest.

  Now it's my turn. I can't help the grin stretches across my face.

  My vanquished opponent – who also happens to be my cousin and one of my best friends – looks up at me through his fencing mask and rolls his eyes.

  I throw him a smirk.

  “I guess I win.”

  The words still hang in the air when a flurry of activity at the side of the room catches my eye.

  “Damn-it, Lucas.” Carlos Mandolay, my fencing coach yells, storming across the room. I can practically see the storm billowing out of his ears as his face turns an unattractive shade of red.

  “How many times do we have to go over the rules before you get them through your skull?”

  I flip my mask back and hold up a hand, silencing his tirade. “I know, Carlos,” I say, grinning. “I’m undisciplined, hard-headed, and arrogant. And all of the above are making it impossible for you to do your job.”

  I know my flippant tone pisses him off even more, but I can’t help myself. When the adrenaline courses through my veins like it’s doing now,

  Carlos upper lip curls, exposing his teeth in a grin that would be perfectly at home in the middle of a horror movie. “And yet, nothing ever changes.”

  He points at my fallen cousin, who is slowly pushing himself to his feet. “I’ve never seen anything so atrocious and underhanded. I’m embarrassed to be your coach.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.” I protest, wiping a bead of sweat from my eyes. “Roderick’s the fool who can’t stay on his feet.”

  My words trigger the desired effect. Carlos spins away from me and lights into Roderick.

  “You’re just as foolish as he is. When he advanced, why didn’t you retreat? And why the hell didn’t you press your advantage when you had the opportunity instead of playing with him?” Carlos flails his arms, the elaborate gestures driving home his point with a flourish.

  Roderick’s lips twitch. Carlos spots the movement and stomps forward until his and Roderick’s faces are just inches apart. Carlos looks more like a sports coach yelling at a referee than an elegant fencing master running one of the best Olympic-level fencing training programs in the world.

  “What, exactly, is so funny?” Carlos spits, fury emanating from his body. His arms continue to wave and point.

  Now Roderick’s shoulders shake. “It’s hard to take anyone who looks like a drunken swan trying to take flight seriously. Just sayin’.”

  If Carlos was mad before, it’s nothing compared to now. His mouth opens and closes several times before he finally manages to force his words out.

  “I don’t need to take this kind of bullshit from two cocky, spoiled, royal brats,” he screams, his words bouncing off the training strip. Everyone who had been practicing or running through exercises stops, pretending they aren’t listening. Everyone’s attention is on us.

  Then again, that’s hardly unusual…

  “There’s not a country in the world that wouldn’t hire me in an instant,” Carlos continues. His wild gaze bounces from Roderick to me and back again. Drops of spittle fly from his mouth, prompting us to step back.

  “Countries where I would have youngsters who appreciate me, who listen to me and follow my instructions. Students who don’t just say they want to win Olympic medals, but who are actually willing to put in the work it requires.”

  Carlos spins on his heel and storms
towards his office. His arms continue to jerk as though he’s conducting an imaginary orchestra and we can hear him sputtering as his protestations die in the distance.

  Tim Mandalay, the assistant coach and Carlos’s son, stops in front of us and takes our sabers.

  “You know,” he says in his ever soft voice, “one of these days, the pair of you will push too far and he’ll do exactly as he says. Then where will you be?”

  “Even if he does quit,” I say as I pull my mask off my head and run a hand through my damp hair to smooth it back into place, “we’ll just find another coach.”

  Even as I say the words, a tiny concern bites at the back of my mind. And it’s not just guilt for being such an ass.

  If Carlos does quit, finding another coach of his caliber won’t be easy. The whole reason my parents, the King and Queen of Moravia, brought him into the country to coach me and the rest of my fencing team was because he was the best coach in the sport, and I refused to settle for anything less than the best.

  All of the other top-rated coaches were working with their own national teams and it would have taken more than just coaxing to convince them to leave and come to Moravia.

  Besides, for all that I struggle to resist getting under his skin, the truth is I like Carlos.

  And more importantly, the odds of me capturing a gold medal at the upcoming Summer Games - and redeeming myself for the tiny – but fatal - mistake that had ended in my crashing out of the last Olympics with the bronze while Roderick wore the silver and Moravia, which had been the favored fencing team going into the Games, yielded the top spot on the podium to Monaco.

  Freaking Monaco!

  Even now, the taste on the back of my tongue is bitter. I made a vow to myself back then, and I haven’t forgotten. I refuse to let anything mess up my plans for redeeming myself at the next Olympics.

  I’ll win the gold this time, no matter what it takes.

  “I’ll apologize. Smooth his feathers.”

  I hand Tim my mask and walk towards Carlos’ office. My mind searches for the right combination of words that will prove I’m genuinely sorry for being such a difficult student to teach, which I am-both difficult and genuinely sorry. Sometimes my arrogance gets the best of me. Someday, I’ll curb it, I hope

  But I don’t make it two steps before Roderick’s hand clamps onto my shoulder.

  “Not so fast.” My cousin says, shaking his head. “You don’t want to walk into Carlos’ office and pull your ‘I’m royalty but have decided to lower myself to acquiescing to your wishes bullshit right now’.”

  I glance at Tim.

  “Roddie’s right,” Tim agrees.

  “Dad’s about as mad as he can get right now and I don’t think there’s anything you can say that will make things better at the moment. You might even push him over the edge and he really will decide to quit. You know, he thinks of you guys practically as family. You shouldn’t push him so hard…”