Caleb Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 7] Read online

  Seven Brothers for McBride 7

  Caleb Morgan

  He thought they were finally free…

  Sheriff Dillion McBride’s struggle to resist the eldest Morgan brother has finally ended. With the world drastically changed by a new virus, the old laws no longer apply, and he can love without repercussion. But just as he and Caleb stand on the verge of moving ahead together as mates, new complications threaten to destroy the happiness they’ve worked so hard to achieve.

  Being seen as the bad boy has always had its perks, but when Caleb needs trust and understanding, he has only himself to blame when he finds neither. Still, Caleb is willing to do anything to protect his brothers and McBride from the band of marauding slammers, even sacrificing himself.

  Now that their struggle to resist one another is over, will they have what it takes to stand strong and overcome new and far more deadly threats?

  Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Futuristic, Paranormal

  Length: 37,381 words

  CALEB MORGAN

  Seven Brothers for McBride 7

  Anitra Lynn McLeod

  EVERLASTING CLASSIC

  MANLOVE

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove

  CALEB MORGAN

  Copyright © 2013 by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-387-3

  First E-book Publication: February 2013

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Caleb Morgan by Anitra Lynn McLeod from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Anitra Lynn McLeod’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. McLeod’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  To all the faithful readers who held with the series this far. Enjoy!

  CALEB MORGAN

  Seven Brothers for McBride 7

  ANITRA LYNN MCLEOD

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter 1

  Dillion McBride had just poured out his heart to the man he loved only to be struck by a headache so crippling it almost dropped him where he stood. If he hadn’t gripped the edge of the dining room table, he would have collapsed on the floor, but he was hanging on by his fingertips. To make matters worse, his butler just informed him that the marauding slammers were back for round two, but this time they’d brought more men and better weapons. As if this wasn’t bad enough, the more tender men at the table erupted into fear-compelled babbling that was high-pitched and feeding his headache until his entire body exploded into agony.

  “We need to get everyone armed and stationed at the best vantage points.” Even though talking just about killed him, this was his land and he was the one everyone looked up to for orders. There were fourteen at the table, including himself and the man he just professed to love, but Caleb hadn’t had time to share his feelings before everything started falling apart. McBride peered through the pain at his face, but Caleb went from looking shocked by his announcement to curious about his stance.

  “It’s back, isn’t it?” Caleb rose to his feet, and every gaze at the table swung his way. It was difficult not to stare at Caleb. He’d dressed for dinner in a white shirt that showed off his tan and black pants that displayed his considerable assets. Since he’d left his long, black hair unbound, it gleamed over his shoulders, enhancing the danger in his sage-green eyes.

  “I’m fine. I want everyone—” Another wave of agony cut off his command. McBride had to press his hands flat to the table and lean into it to stay upright. Praying for the firestorm in his head to abate only inspired it to crush harder. Eventually, he’d just collapse in on himself like a distant star, but at least he’d be out of his agony.

  In rapid-fire, clipped commands, Caleb instructed his brothers and their thralls to get their belongings from their small circle of mechanical houses and bring them into the big house. He did all this while striding toward the head of the table.

  “We need to get armed, not worry about keepsakes.” McBride clung to the tabletop, praying that the pain would stop. The last time his mysterious illness struck he’d been out for almost two days. If ever there was a worst time for it to return, now was that time. He needed to stand tall so they could show a united front. Looking weak would be like an invitation for the slammers to think they had a chance to take control of the farm and everything on it, including his men. Even if they failed tonight, they would simply amass more men and keep trying. McBride needed to put an end to this now.

  “I’ll get everyone armed once I’ve got you settled.” Caleb wrapped his arm around McBride. His strength and his scent embraced him, giving him far more comfort than he thought possible. As much as he wanted to lean on him, he also felt a perverse alpha streak to be as strong as he could, even if doing so hurt him. Gentrymen genes were hardwired with an amazing amount of macho nonsense.

  “We have to do more than just scare them off this time. We have to kill some of them so they decide attacking us simply isn’t worth it.” McBride realized his mistake before was in not launching a violent assault. If the slammers thought they were weak, or easy to exploit, they would keep coming back. McBride believed his men could hold them off no matter how often they returned, but doing so would be unduly stressful, and eventually th
ey would run out of stores. The food garden the men had worked so diligently to plant would die without proper care. If the slammers had any kind of intelligence at all, they would decimate the farm and destroy all the outbuildings. McBride and his men could rebuild, but after a few times of doing so it would prove too much.

  “I’m aware of the strategy we should use.” Caleb was trying to move McBride up the stairs, but he refused. “It’s what I wanted to do last time, but I was too concerned about Quintus getting killed in the fray.”

  “You were worried about him?”

  “I thought he was to be your mate.” Caleb’s voice was soft as he darted a quick glance at his brother and Quintus, who were now eternally bound by blood.

  McBride and Caleb had made a bigger mess of their relationship by trying to protect the other than by actually talking to one another.

  “He’s not.”

  “I know that now.” Caleb pulled McBride away from the staircase and toward the parlor. “Like everyone else, I got a ringside seat to hear all your confessions.”

  McBride had arranged the dinner so that he could tell everyone at the same time the truth about why he’d hung on to the idea of having Quintus as his mate. Like himself, Quintus was a gentryman, and in the old world, that was the way things worked. Gentrymen paired off with other gentrymen. Slammers paired off with thralls. But in the new world, with an illness devastating the population and turning slammers against gentrymen, men met and fell in love regardless of social class. Now that the entire planet was in chaos, McBride could be with Caleb. Or he could be, if only Caleb forgave him for all the lies.

  “You never answered me.”

  “Now isn’t the time.” Caleb tightened his grip as he moved McBride toward the parlor. “Stop fighting me.”

  “I’m fine. I need to get up to the cupola so I can see what’s going on.” McBride was convinced that if he just had a strong enough will, he could keep it together and keep going through the pain. Every step he took, even with half his weight on Caleb, made a mockery of that notion. He wasn’t able to stand up and take a leak at the moment.

  “You’re not fine. You won’t be any use to us up there. It’s clear to me that the pain is so bad it’s interfering with not only your ability to see but your ability to think clearly. Now let me help you.”

  “I can help myself.” McBride wasn’t going to sit idle while men tried to take over what had been his family land for generations.

  “I can see that whatever was making you sick is back, and I’m not going to let you stand here trying to run things while you’re in agony.”

  “Why weren’t you this talkative after I confessed everything?” McBride had decided the time had come to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. All he’d gotten in answer was Caleb’s look of stunned surprise. Well, there had been another reaction, but McBride wasn’t certain what to make of Caleb’s nipples hardening below his smoothly tailored dress shirt. Either he’d felt a chill, or it had simply been an autonomic response.

  Rather than answer, Caleb scooped McBride up and over his shoulder. Lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear him, Caleb whispered, “Now be good, or I’ll have to punish you.” He patted McBride’s ass—again, he did this stealthily so no one could see—then took him into the parlor. Caleb placed him on the long couch, ensuring there was a pillow under his head. “Stay here.”

  “Or?”

  “I’ll sit on you.”

  McBride couldn’t help it, he grinned. Since Caleb matched him at six eight and three hundred pounds, if he settled in, he could keep McBride wherever he wanted him. If he sat the right way, McBride wouldn’t be all that opposed.

  “Will you sit on me without clothes?” A sudden image of Caleb riding him, his angular face harshly determined to find his pleasure as he worked McBride’s cock in and out of his muscular ass, got McBride hard despite the pain.

  A smirk twisted one edge of Caleb’s mouth. That secretive grin had fueled more of McBride’s fantasies than everything else about the man combined. Caleb had a way of looking like a bad boy all grown up into a dangerously wicked man.

  “If you’re very, very good, I might.”

  As suddenly as the intense flirting started, it disappeared when another wave of pain caused McBride to almost pass out. When he opened his eyes, Caleb was on his knees beside him.

  “What can I do?”

  “Nothing. It will go away on its own. It did last time.” McBride’s heart ached not knowing if Caleb had forgiven him or not. “I need to know, Caleb. Do you forgive me? Do you even still want me?”

  Caleb’s mouth opened, and McBride was so keen on hearing what he had to say that the pain was forced to the background. Would he forgive him so they could move forward together, or had Caleb been so devastated by the lies he simply couldn’t let go?

  “We’ve brought everything in.” Gannon hung close by the archway rather than entering the parlor. It was clear from his body language he didn’t want to interrupt Caleb and McBride. “I also had everyone get different clothes so we’re not constricted in fancy duds.”

  “Good idea.” Caleb turned to all the men crowded in the archway between the dining room and the parlor.

  “You should go get changed.” As much as McBride loved seeing him dressed up, he wanted him to be able to move freely if there was a fight.

  “I will.” Caleb turned back to him. “I want you to stay here. I’m going to get everyone armed and then bring the rest of the weapons in. If nothing else, we can batten this place down and keep them repelled for longer than they’re going to want to lay siege.”

  When the men darted questioning glances his way, McBride nodded. Below the big house, which had metal shutters that could slam down protecting all the doors and windows, there were vast tunnels of stores. All kinds of food and consumable goods—everything they needed for years—was protected by the enormous house above. The only way into or out of the tunnels was tucked safely within the house. McBride never understood what the house had been built to withstand, or perhaps it was just customary, but he was eternally grateful for it now.

  After a pointed look and a reminder to stay put, Caleb rose to his feet, whipped off his shirt, and tossed it on the floor. If McBride had the energy, he would have gotten up and placed a lingering kiss on Caleb before he went off, but all he could do was lie on the couch and watch with hungry fascination as Caleb’s muscles bunched and flexed on his way out of the parlor. Dressed to the hilt, wearing only a pair of shorts, or totally naked, Caleb managed to always rivet McBride’s attention.

  As he lay on the couch feeling utterly useless, his men and their mates brought in weapons from the massive shed. They also brought in any and all gear they didn’t want used against them. From the sounds of the activity, they had moved the dining room table out of the way to accommodate the influx of items.

  When he heard them struggling to fill the room in an orderly fashion, McBride fought to get up and failed miserably. The pain was so crippling he couldn’t even call out suggestions on how best to organize the items. In the end, he realized it didn’t matter. The important thing was getting everything in, getting everyone armed, and later they could make it pretty.

  As he lay there listening and unable to move, feeling as worthless as a washed-up grinder, McBride wondered why the slammers had returned. With his excruciating headache he couldn’t recall exactly how many days had passed since the angry men had been here last, but he remembered exactly what they wanted. Gentrymen. When the blood madness erupted, turning some gentrymen into insatiable savages, the slammers revolted, killing their old masters even if they weren’t afflicted with the disease. From what McBride had been told, the slammers then raided the thrall houses, drinking and fucking them without heed. In their glut of freedom, they’d ended up killing the very men they desired.

  Quintus, a gentryman, had inadvertently led the slammers to the farm when he was escaping their wrath. Quintus had never even owne
d a slammer, but that didn’t help him when the men determined to use and abuse him wouldn’t listen. He’d gotten to safety, but only just barely. His injury wasn’t life threatening, but it had been life altering, because Quintus had fallen in love with the slammer who was tending to his wound. Renner and Quintus were a good pair. When they’d told McBride the truth of what was going on between them, they’d inspired him to confess his heart to Caleb. Rather than dwell on that fiasco, McBride turned his attention to pondering what else the slammers might be after.

  The other thing the invading slammers could want were the four thralls on the property. All of them were in pristine condition except for Karsten. He had been attacked by gentrymen and then strung up and used by slammers, possibly some of the same men on their way up the long drive. Thankfully, they’d only taken Karsten’s blood. As traumatic as that had been, Karsten managed to escape them before they could violate him for sex. How Karsten had made it out to the farm was a testament to his amazing strength despite his diminutive size. The fact that he wasn’t an utter basket case was proof of his mate’s kindness and care. Ironically, it had been Devon’s determination to nurse him back to health that had caused them to fall in love, just like it had with Renner and Quintus.

  “Maybe I should let Caleb keep on taking care of me since it seems to make men fall in love.” But it chafed McBride’s pride to be seen as weak in any way. He was fairly certain it was hardwired into his gentryman genes to want to be in charge of everything and lead his men from the front rather than languishing on a comfy couch in the back, but there wasn’t anything he could do about—another burst of agony made him clench his eyes closed and struggle not to vomit up what little was in his belly.