Master of the Deep Read online

  Contents

  KINDLE Header

  BLURB

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Other Amazon

  Other Titles By Cleo

  After Forever/Bisexual Billionaire Trilogy (Threesome Romance)

  Careless

  Hopeless

  Fearless

  After Forever Box Set

  Office Toy Series (BDSM Gang Bang Romance)

  Office Toy

  Client Satisfaction

  Company Vacation

  Flex Time

  Soft Skills

  Executive Package

  Executive Toy Series (BDSM Gang Bang Romance)

  Executive Toy

  By a Dangerous Man (BDSM Erotic Romantic Suspense)

  Trapped by a Dangerous Man

  Wanted by a Dangerous Man

  Saved by a Dangerous Man

  Tempted by a Dangerous Man

  Seduced by a Dangerous Man

  (Season Two—coming soon)

  Dared by a Dangerous Man

  The Shark Shifter Paranormal Romance

  Touching Paradise

  Master of the Deep

  Oceans Untamed

  Blood in the Water (coming soon)

  Shark Burn (coming soon)

  Take Me Hard Series (BDSM Romance)

  Ride Me Hard

  Love Me Hard

  Use Me Hard

  Take Me Hard Compilation #1

  Push Me Hard

  Fantasy Playland Series (BDSM)

  Sleeping Lady

  Sleeping chez Sade

  Wide Awake

  Wide Open

  His Kiss

  Fantasy Playland Box Set

  Mistress Moi Series (Femdom)

  My Three Slaves

  Cuckold Chuck

  Faye-Faye and the Sadist

  Bad Boyfriend Series (Femdom Romance)

  Bad Boyfriend

  Anthologies

  Underground Erotica

  MASTER OF THE DEEP (The Shark Shifter Paranormal Romance #2)

  Monroe loves having a strong man who appreciates her curves, but Koenraad is still a stranger, and she can’t get to the bottom of the enigmatic billionaire’s secrets. She learns that the guidebook’s coverage of shark warriors isn’t all lies, but her gut tells her he’s hiding something much bigger.

  Shark shapeshifter Koenraad finds out firsthand why it’s dangerous for humans and sharks to mix. He swore to keep Monroe safe during her vacation on the tropical island, but he never imagined the price of his secrets would be paid in blood.

  Chapter 1

  Koenraad paused in the shadows of his bedroom to watch Monroe sleep. He’d just come back from a late-night swim in the inlet behind his seaside mansion, and he wasn’t about to get into bed still wet. Monroe didn’t seem to have stirred since he’d left, but he could hear her gentle breathing and the steady beating of her heart.

  She made a small noise but still didn’t move, and he wondered what she was dreaming about. Because she sounded so peaceful, he doubted he played a starring role.

  Everything between them had been going so well, but then he’d accidentally freaked her out. It had been an unfortunate misstep, wholly his fault. He hadn’t exactly developed a plan for revealing all he was. Maybe Monroe wouldn’t have been frightened if she’d been prepared… but she hadn’t been.

  Hell, he hadn’t been, either.

  She could claim not to be afraid of him all she wanted, but he’d smelled the truth in her cold sweat. He’d seen the trembling. Even now, the memory of her fear was a vivid, sharp torture that the ocean hadn’t washed away.

  She was on the island for just a week, and while he didn’t want this fling to end, he couldn’t keep putting her through shark-surprise hell. There was no manual to guide him, no internet forum where he could ask, This human I’m really into accepts that I’m a shifter, but she doesn’t know anything about us. How can I break her in gently?

  Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he turned to the ocean outside his balcony. Things were so much easier in the water. And lately, deadlier. This really was awful timing for a complicated new relationship.

  The breeze had dried his hair, and he was about to get into bed when he heard the buzzing of his phone, which he’d left in the first floor library.

  Silently yet quickly, as only a shifter could, he crossed the room and descended the majestic staircase.

  Darius cleared his throat on the other end of the line as soon as Koenraad picked up. “Sorry for waking you.”

  “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have called,” Koenraad said. “And the answer is no.”

  “I’ve got some good news for once,” Darius said, displaying his talent for ignoring what didn’t suit him. “Shifters from all over are showing up to help with this mess. You asked for a break, so here it is. I don’t need you until tomorrow. You can sleep in.”

  Koenraad didn’t say anything because he knew there was more to this phone call. If he stayed quiet long enough, Darius would eventually get to the point.

  “I also need a personal favor,” Darius said. “Victoria—”

  “Thanks for the day off.” Koenraad hung up and powered down the phone. He’d have to deal with this in the morning. No, he’d do it the next morning. He had a day off and he was going to enjoy it. In bed. With Monroe.

  He was halfway up the stairs when he turned back around. Darius never did things for altruistic reasons, and he surely knew Koenraad would turn down any favor involving Victoria. Therefore, the phone call was solely about keeping Koenraad away.

  He switched on the phone and dialed his best friend. Spencer should be awake, and Koenraad needed a favor of his own.

  Chapter 2

  Monroe pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. This was not how things were supposed to be going.

  She was on vacation, dammit.

  More specifically, she was on a gorgeous tropical island, in Koenraad’s waterfront mansion, in his large and elegant bedroom.

  In his bed. Tangled in silky sheets that smelled like him, like the wild ocean.

  She rolled into a patch of warm, bright Caribbean sunlight. The sheets twisted around her legs, and her mass of light-brown hair obscured her view of the bedroom.

  She didn’t move to free herself, though, and instead lay there while she tried to get a grip.

  Half an hour earlier, Koenraad had quietly slipped out of bed. Like a coward, she’d pretended to be asleep. She’d meant to get up, to follow him downstairs, but five minutes had stretched into thirty.

  She still wasn’t ready to face him. Or her complicated life.

  Despite all the things that were weird and terrifying about Koenraad—and there were too many of those to count—his scent lingering in the room made her heart pound wildly.

  That was what she needed to focus on. How he made her feel good on every level that should matter. How even the sound of his quiet, confident voice turned her life from flat and gray into three-dimensional, vivid color. That was what mattered. Not… the other stuff.

  Get up, Monroe. Stop being a coward.

  But she couldn’t make her legs move.

  Koenraad was probably wondering why the hell she was still upstairs. Eventually he’d come back to check on her, and what was she going to tell him? How could she possibly explain the cold, panicked churning in her
gut?

  She couldn’t tell him that despite his kindness, she was scared of him.

  So get up!

  She rolled onto her side and stared at the empty bed beside her. She could do this. Koenraad was kind and gentle—so long as she wasn’t a piece of furniture that got in his way during sex.

  She pushed her hair out of her eyes and sat up.

  On the other side of the room, a silky black robe lay draped over a chair. She blinked slowly. It hadn’t been there when they’d gotten into bed the night before.

  Despite the sun, a chill ran down her spine.

  Koenraad was considerate, right? He’d left her something to wear so she wouldn’t have to walk around with her boobs on display.

  So why was that sending her into full-out panic mode?

  Because he’d done it in total silence. She hadn’t heard a thing.

  The hair on the back of her neck rose.

  Either run or don’t, but get your ass out of bed.

  She kicked free of the sheets and stumbled to the robe. He was quiet because he didn’t want to wake me, she told herself over and over, but his intentions weren’t in doubt. The fact that he could do it, on the other hand, was not comforting.

  As she slipped her arms into the robe’s sleeves, she glanced through the massive balcony doors that framed a section of Koenraad’s pristine private beach. She stopped, took a second, longer look.

  Pure white sand glittered softly in the morning light, and aquamarine tropical ocean lapped at the shores. The waves murmured seductively. She thought of it as a soundtrack to life on the island.

  Funny that she hadn’t noticed how beautiful the Caribbean was during her first two days on Tureygua. But that had everything to do with her horrible ex who had stood her up, leaving her a bridesmaid without a date.

  Thomas might be on the island right now, looking for her. He couldn’t be bothered to show up when she was counting on him, but when she wanted him as far away as possible…

  The bitter taste of bile sent her hurrying to the bathroom to rinse her mouth under a gleaming faucet. She wiped her lips on the back of her hand. God, she hated drama. Breaking up with Thomas hadn’t been easy, and she needed this to be over. Dealing with Koenraad and his freaky supernatural talents was already stressful enough, and she was not a person who handled stress easily.

  A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that even though she felt like she was falling apart, she looked normal. Better than normal. Maybe it was the suntan’s healthy glow. Or the incredible sex.

  Yeah, focus on the sex. On the feel of Koenraad’s mouth on hers and the way he managed to keep her constantly wet even when he wasn’t touching her.

  She tightened the robe’s sash around her waist and combed her fingers through her long hair as she descended the stairs.

  Despite everything racing through her mind, she couldn’t help but notice the gilded opulence that surrounded her. Koenraad’s wealth was about as subtle as a tsunami. She didn’t care about money, but it was hard not to wonder just how much he had. The Chinese vase next to the doorway, for example, seemed museum quality, and the elegant crystal chandelier over the entrance looked like it had taken a lifetime to craft. This mansion was gigantic—she’d counted thirty-five rooms before losing track when she’d explored the day before. He owned at least one other home on the island that she knew of, as well as several yachts.

  And that was just what had come up in casual conversation.

  Koenraad hadn’t mentioned any of it to impress her. He was so unlike the men back home in New York… and his nonchalance about money wasn’t even the biggest difference.

  A shiver crept along her skin as her bare feet padded on the marble floors, and she rubbed her arms. There was so much she didn’t know. He was a born killer. She knew that, had sensed it the first moment she saw him. But her unanswered questions—most of which, to be fair, were also unasked—were messing with her head.

  The night before had been amazing, and they hadn’t even had sex again. She hadn’t been up for it, not after he’d destroyed the shelf, and he’d seemed to sense that she’d needed space.

  Instead, he’d taken her out for a leisurely dinner at a Thai restaurant. Who knew you could get good Asian food in the Caribbean? Five hours of talking and staring into each other’s eyes, but it had felt like five minutes. She’d only realized how much time had passed as they were leaving, when the manager locked the door behind them. Afterward, they’d walked along the beach, Koenraad’s arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

  He made her nervous. Hot men had that effect on her. But he relaxed her, too. They… fit together. She’d felt like she could tell him anything.

  All that had somehow disappeared overnight, though, and at the moment she had a hard time understanding how she could have ever been so comfortable with him.

  She followed the faint sounds of what was either a television or a radio. The wafting, wholesome aroma of freshly brewed coffee grew stronger with every step. Such a typical morning routine, but Koenraad was anything but. It was the little things that tripped her up, leaving her confused. But then, she hadn’t seen the biggest things. Only the way he’d saved her life two days before was absolute proof.

  She remembered his mouth over hers, how he’d sent breathable air into her lungs. He’d held her close while the weight of the water seemed to want to crush her, and she’d been shocked stiff, but deep down she’d also known she was safe.

  That experience surely bound them together, too. But it didn’t mean she shouldn’t be running like hell while she still could.

  She rounded the corner and stood at the entrance to the relatively small kitchen. There were so many bathrooms and bedrooms and other rooms that she knew there had to be a gigantic kitchen elsewhere, but she was glad Koenraad used this one. Its simplicity seemed studied, but she still found it soothing. The stocky table and chairs didn’t match exactly, but they fit. They complemented each other perfectly, which was better than an exact match in her opinion. Proof of a professional decorator with an excellent eye.

  Looking at the sturdy wood furniture, she suddenly remembered Koenraad’s jaws clamping on the shelf in the hallway when he’d roughly taken her the evening before. The wood had been crushed during the height of his release.

  What she hadn’t realized then was that he could have just as easily caught her neck between his teeth.

  Her shivers turned into a shudder.

  She wasn’t ready. She wanted to go back upstairs, crawl into bed. Or run out the front door… But her legs had locked up on her.

  Koenraad was a shark. For all his wealth and natural elegance, he was dangerous. A mindless killing machine if the documentaries on sharks were to be believed.

  He stood at the counter, his tall, musclebound frame facing away from her. The counter was a mess: scraps of pineapple skin and core, an open container of yogurt, a spoon covered in white that threatened to drip at any second, and a large plastic and rubber lid.

  It was such a normal morning scene that a whisper of tension eased out of her. Not enough to make a difference, but it was a start.

  She watched as he picked up the rubberized lid and slapped it atop something she couldn’t see. A blender whirred quietly to life.

  “Good morning,” Koenraad said without turning around. His rumbling voice added goosebumps of a different sort to her trembling. He was large, closing in on six-and-a-half feet tall. Currently, he wore nothing but black boxers that clung to the thick muscles of his tanned legs. On the right side of his waist, she could see the tail end of the knotted, ropy scar that she knew started at the bottom of his neck.

  The blender cut off.

  “How’d you get the scar?” she asked.

  He tilted his head back and shook his white-blond hair out of his eyes, but he still didn’t fully turn to face her. “Boat propeller.” His deep voice was starting to feel familiar, reminding her of how normal their date the night before had been, and she felt her muscles
begin to relax. “I was getting into trouble with some friends, doing things we shouldn’t have been doing. In short, I shifted human before I could heal.”

  “Heal?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, startling her with those abnormally large irises that made his blue eyes seem black. “Sharks heal very quickly.”

  “And humans don’t?” she asked when he didn’t volunteer more.

  “Comparatively? No, you don’t.”

  “Sharks don’t get cancer, right?”

  “That’s a myth, unfortunately, but our cells are much less likely to mutate and we have stronger immune systems, so it’s rare.”

  Monroe waited, but Koenraad had apparently said all he was going to. She watched him pour thick white smoothies into two tall glasses.

  Four bagel halves popped up in the toaster, and Koenraad put them onto plates.

  “Carbs?” she asked, surprised.

  “You’d rather watch me jump in the ocean and rip apart a fish with my teeth?”

  That made her shudder. In fact, she most certainly did not want to see anything of the sort.

  His gaze swept over her. She blushed as his attention lingered on her full curves. “It happens that I have an insatiable sweet tooth. When I find something I enjoy, I have a hard time holding back.” The last line was delivered in a slightly deeper tone that made her tingle.

  “I’d planned to serve you breakfast in bed,” he said, moving closer to her.

  Serve. Like anyone with Koenraad’s bearing could ever do something so diminishing as serving. His scorching masculine scent enveloped her, and just like that, the last of her fear melted away, leaving a desire for his touch that shook her to her core. She couldn’t think straight around this guy.

  “If you hurry back up now…” He trailed off as something caught his attention. He was listening to the radio, Monroe realized.