Bluejacket Noah: Alpha Forces (Book 1)

  Bluejacket Noah

  Alpha Forces Book One

  By Scarlett Hope

  Copyright © 2019 by Scarlett Hope

  All rights reserved. In no way is it legal to produce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless written permission from the publisher. For permission requests, email the author at: Scarletthopewriter@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book contains adult language and explicit love scenes. It is no suitable for anyone under 18 years of age.

  Please respect the authors hard work and buy a copy!!!

  Edited by Scarlett Hope

  Cover Design by Scarlett Hope

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  FREE BOOK

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Epilogue

  Coming Next!

  Chapter One

  Noah

  “You don’t belong here”

  That voice played across my head again, taunting, jeering as I swung the door open, instantly washing off that painful smile I plastered on my face all evening. I turned around, gripped the open door and swung, hard, its satisfying bang music to my ears. But even that was pointless anyway. It wouldn’t even be heard over the loud laughter, music and suave voices that ruled over the Navy’s Captains and Admirals annual ball taking place inside the house.

  A party of high, stuck-up fools who have been in the navy for way too long, that’s what it was. Why else would they feel threatened by me, eyes narrowing into slits, scanning the three stars on my uniform in unveiled suspicion the moment I opened my mouth to say I was only thirty?

  A Captain at just thirty? They’d say. I could almost hear the creaky wheels in their head-turning, digging up all sorts of possibilities – whose son is he? Whose ass did he lick? How much? – Things which they no doubt spewed to each other in cold-blooded cruelty the minute I was out of sight. At times, like tonight, they weren’t even that nice. Some of them, like that short plump, red-faced officer I just met inside, had the gall to tell me to my face that lads like me who clawed up the ranks through the backdoor didn’t belong here with the legends. That was, of course, before he belched loudly, revealing his sheer drunkenness, took another swig of the beer in his hands and began that long tirade about what and what had gone wrong with the navy and how his time, his generation, handled it better… etc. etc.

  Politely, I’d bowed my head, careful to keep my tight fists to myself, the ballroom suddenly feeling too warm, as heavy as the judgmental stares burning down my back, and did the best thing I could right then: escape.

  In four quick strides, I went out the nearest door and down a small passageway, not knowing where I was going and not caring. I wanted to be as far away from that scene as possible. The passageway led me to something which was, apparently, a garden, its zigzag design looking a little jagged in the half-moonlight. It was peaceful, quiet and most importantly, it saved me the trouble of listening to any more whining.

  I shouldn’t let them get to me, I knew. I was worth more; my pops was worth more. It was he who gave me that confidence to succeed all those years ago, when no one knew me or even cared if I survived, when we had nothing but hard bread to feed ourselves, and rags to clothe ourselves, and not very often. Sometimes, pops would sit on the shipyard two streets away from our little shack, looking at the sailors working, a wistful smile on his face as he grabbed me by the hand.

  And even as an eight-year-old young boy, I recognized the desperate hope in that grip, his sheer will that I should become something great, something better, more than he’d ever been. When he died from cancer two years later, I swore to realize it to the last end; to never let his sacrifice go to waste.

  I began work at the dock immediately, catching the eye of my superiors. They sensed something in me, something raw, unbridled, and zealous to be unleashed. What they didn’t know, and what I never told them because I saw no reason to, was that that scrawny boy eager to run errands and grab the hoisters even before told to was wide-eyed from need, but not of food – in his eyes was a vision, a big dream fuelled by years of want and hunger, of being called an up-to-no-good and of seeing both his parents die in his arms, before his eyes.

  But it seemed years of slaving away weren’t enough to convince them. They still had the gall to say things like, “You don’t belong here.”

  The cool air of the evening washed across my face and I shut my eyes, tightening my jaw and rolling my shoulder, breathing slowly, to dispel the knot in my chest. The voices still taunted, refusing to leave my head but I slammed the door on them, reminding myself of the reason I was here in the first place.

  Not to meet those sleazy antique officers or suck up to them but to see one person only: the Admiral.

  Despite the half-moon fixed above in the night sky, surrounded by a splattering of stars, the garden was quite dark. I kept walking through the maze-like garden guided purely by instinct, taking advantage of the freshness, the scent of the flowers and paying no mind to where I was going.

  Perhaps that was why I didn’t see her.

  Barely minutes after walking through the garden, I turned and bumped into a figure whom I knew, from the softness of her body, was a woman. She yelped, stumbling away and in that split second, I had to either stand there reeling in shock or make a move and stop her fall. My instincts kicking in, I shot out a hand, finding her body and immediately grabbed her, my other hand clamping around her waist and, propelled by the force, her body crashed into mine.

  It felt like a bullet, the second her body bounced into mine and her full, bountiful chest pressed into my chest. I didn’t know her name, couldn’t really see her face but I felt that body; curvy, soft, melting just like honey into me and, soon, I felt my breathing get gruff, quickening the more I held her to me, the air getting warmer as I felt my member rise.

  She smelled of the flowers, softness and sunshine, permeating in quality every part of my body and I wanted more of her.

  It didn’t make sense… that instant attraction I felt towards her as we stood surrounded by that near-darkness, the moon peeping over us from the sky. What was even more shocking was the sheer force of that attraction; fuelled by her curves, her smell, even the warm rush of her hurried breath on my neck; so potent it had me gripping her a little tighter, wishing to see more of her, to feel her and know her.

  And then I felt her breath hitch and immediately snapped out of it. What was wrong with me? This was a random woman in the Admiral’s garden, who just bumped into an unknown man in the dark, and was probably scared out of her mind.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered, unclamping my hands from her waist and releasing them from her body, yet holding onto her hand, unwilling to let go. Peering into her face, I tried to see her features in the darkness; all I could make out was a distinct butterfly mask covering her face, a firm confirmation she was one of the Admiral’s guests.

  She was obviously disoriented, lif
ting and lowering her head intermittently, her bountiful chest rising and falling as she stood before me. Her breathing was a little too hurried, her palm a little shaky to just be as a result of her near-fall. She didn’t take her hand away from mine and I knew it: she wanted me too.

  “I-I…” she stammered, shaking her head as if in disbelief and then exhaled,

  “What just happened?”

  Her voice was velvety, fine like silk running through my ears and straight to my heart, and even lower still, awakening the strong head of desire in me. The air thickened, prompting me to move closer. My muscles felt taut, every sense heightened by this strange, mysterious woman. Face earnest, I leaned into her to see if I could take a closer look at her, and to ask her the one question burning holes into my tongue,

  “What’s your name?”

  “My name?” her voice was breathy and she drew closer to me too, it seemed, “I can’t even see you.”

  “Neither can I… see you. But I feel you, right here.” I squeezed her hands, “Tell me who you are please.”

  “I—“

  Her phone rang, jarring us with its sudden melody and, instinctively, she slipped her hand away from mine, dug her hands into her swirling ball gown, fiddled and fished out the phone. As she raised it, her face became awash with the screen light and I swallowed up every detail: her mask was a purplish pink, covering half her face. From the visible part of her chin, I saw that she had white creamy skin, locks of shiny golden hair poured down like a waterfall down her shoulder and her full, perfectly-shaped lips boasted a sexy red color, giving her whole look a perfect finish.

  I couldn’t stop staring at those lips, my mind afire with thoughts of what they could do, how wonderful they’ll feel against mine. And then she sucked one lip between her teeth, anxiously nipping it as she stared at her phone. I nearly groaned out loud. Rejecting the caller, she lifted her head up and shook it, withdrawing her other hand from my grasp,

  “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “What?” I felt shattered, my eyebrows slashing down, mouth twisting as I shook my head rapidly, countermanding her decision to leave

  She slipped her hands away.

  “I’m so sorry, I really…” her phone rang again and she cringed, turning around swiftly and immediately running away, meandering through the square cuts of flowerbeds and rose bushes, not bothering to give me another word of explanation.

  Like a fool, I stood there gaping for a whole minute, watching her hazily retreating form as my mind whirled with nothing in particular, confusion and boiling hot attraction and intrigue about this mysterious lady the only identifiable emotions. But then common sense kicked in and my eyes widened, realizing I was letting her slip out of my fingers.

  “Shit!”

  Clenching my fists, I bolted after her, slapping away flowers, leaves and bushes which littered themselves across my way. The garden was unfamiliar and I stumbled a few times, nearly toppling over once, but I soldiered on, willing myself not to let her out of sight for even one second. And I almost succeeded.

  The night was dark and the path unfamiliar, and she hurried on so quickly that I soon lost her – even her phone stopped ringing, quenching into ashes my last lead to her.

  But damn if I will give up on a woman like that; one with a body so curvy, the perfect depiction of a figure eight. Even the way she smelled, like sunshine and jasmine, and her throaty, slightly husky voice turned me on to no end, unlike ever before. I’d met girls before, countless of them threw themselves on me, drawn like bees to my success. But none of them, absolutely none of them, felt as angelic as she did.

  And heavens… those lips. Bold. Red. Sexy.

  I longed to have them on me, doing wicked, devilish things to my body while I pleasured her with my mouth in every way possible. And I was sure as hell not going to let her go.

  Tearing into the passageway, I hurried up into the ballroom and swung the door to the party open, I ignored the loud burst of music, and the curious stares thrown my way, narrowing my eyes and scanning through the large mass of ball gowns, heavy suits and polished navy uniforms. Not once did I see blond hair, or red lips which even came close to hers.

  One officer, slightly younger than the rest and a subordinate of mine appeared close to me,

  “Sir, I was thinking that maybe we could—“

  I ignored him completely, my heart sinking the longer I sought and didn’t find her. The music, whispers and laughter faded to the background and I wove through the tight mass of folks, jaw tightening as my heartbeat wildly beneath my chest as I shook my head in denial.

  She couldn’t be gone. She really… couldn’t.

  But she was. And no matter how I searched that night, even until the wee hours of the morning, I never saw her.

  It was like she appeared, a beauty hidden under the moon, an angel, in fact, that I found purely by fate only to have her slip away at midnight, out of my hands, never to be found again.

  Chapter Two

  Brianne

  Never did I ever think that one simple touch could upset me so much.

  It was just too improbable. And for a split second there I wondered if I was dreaming, if this strong, manly figure gripping me with such passion under the moonlight wasn’t some figment of my imagination… but it wasn’t. His touch had been too sure, too filled with unspoken words to be anything but that of a man who knew what he wants. The kind of man that makes me sweat just by thinking of him.

  Papa’s call had broken that sweet moment we had and I couldn’t stay any longer. I’d stormed out of the party earlier in anger because of papa’s incessant habit of introducing him to his officers who were often aged, gangly, short or plump, or sometimes a weird combination of all four. He wanted me safe, I understood. But that didn’t mean he should parade me around his sick, leery friends like a kind of trophy.

  My papa had good intentions but what he didn’t understand was that I also had mine. I had thoughts and hopes that I want to see realized and I simply cannot stay under his canopy forever.

  I looked at my hands, and still felt the heat of his on it. His hands had been gloved, just like mine, and I hadn’t really seen his face but oh… I felt him, just as firmly as I feel Nana’s fingers digging through my hair, pulling the locks a bit stronger than necessary and muttering about how even her daughter’s moose hair was never this stubborn and how primping my wild red locks to look shiny for papa’s party cost her a week’s worth of sleep.

  “How was the party?” she asked, pulling a soft brush through my hair. How do I tell her the party itself was one of the last things on my mind right now? Papa had it often enough, year after year, but never had I ever felt what I did last night, just from his touch.

  But I chose to keep that to myself; the memory of him was too near, too precious to be shared by anyone but me and throughout last night, I tossed around my bed, clutching the sheets and groaning at the agonizing thought that I won’t ever see him again.

  “Good enough”

  Nana went downstairs for a bit and came back up with a towel in her hands. She looked at her finished work through the mirror and smiled.

  “The Admiral is calling you.”

  Despite having worked for papa for years, Nana still called him Admiral. “Why?”

  “A visitor.” She shrugged and leaned over the table, wiping off some spilt water. I groaned at the mention of a visitor, having neither the will nor the energy to play house with any of papa’s navy friends today. Those men disgusted me. Period. But papa seems to think they have the power to ‘protect’ me… as if a pack of wolves were constantly on my heels.

  With a gruff sigh, I placed my hands on the arms of my chair, lifting myself up. I dressed in simple jeans and a white T-shirt and papa liked me in gowns which shaped and showed off my curvy, plump body whenever I went to his friends. But I was feeling quite reckless today, drunk, it would seem, from the memory of that one man who made my body fire up in desire, aching for more of his touch.
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  Not giving my attire anymore thought, I patted my new hairdo – an up twist expertly carved by Nana – and made my way out my room, down the passageway and finally, down the stairs…

  And stopped in nothing but absolute shock the second I saw the ‘visitor’ papa talked about.

  My breath hitched, chest began to gallop and I got the urge to wipe my palms on my jeans. At first, I didn’t know how I knew it was him and, because of that, I hesitated, brows furrowing as I toyed with the possibility of standing at the stairs a little while longer. But then, as if he just knew I was there and could sense my presence from a mile away, he whipped his head towards me and I saw the second the lights in his head flicked on.

  Last night, neither of us had fully seen each other. But ensconced in my papa’s living room, his wide grey eyes staring into my baby blue ones, we both knew instantly and the memory of the moonlight meeting arose before us, like a phoenix, heating us up with its authenticity and I saw him grip the arm of the sofa, hard. His brows furrowed disbelievingly