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 Corey
“Fort Montevallo S.W.A.T.”
Book 2
Tarin Lex
 All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2020 by Tarin Lex.
No part of this work may be transmitted or reproduced without written permission from the
author/publisher.
Published by Tarin Lex.
“Corey” is a work of fiction. Names, situations, locations, and events are fictitious.
Cover by DesignRans.
 Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Epilogue
 One

Aris

“No. Way,” Corey says through gritted teeth. “I’m not leaving two seventeen-year-old girls alone
in the mall.”
“Okay first of all, Aris is eighteen,” my bestie, Megan, points out. Standing with her and her
brother in the food court, I’m not sure which is more rousing—the smell of fresh-baked cinnamon
swirls wafting toward us, or the look of fierce protectiveness on her brother’s face.
Corey’s jet eyes slide to me, narrowing. “Since when?”
“Today,” I answer.
“No one told me,” he says. “Happy Birthday, Smiles.” His lowered voice is rumbly and warm
and makes my legs feel weak.
“Thanks.” I bite back a too-big grin.
Clearing his throat, he looks at Megan, muscular arms folded over his chest, looking big and
immutable as Wylder Peak.
And that’s a mountain.
“Second of all,” Megan snarks, “you’re being ridic. This mall is safe, we’re smart. Nothing bad
is gonna happen to us just because my big-shot SWAT brother isn’t trailing us like a puppy dog.”
Corey wrinkles up his face. “A puppy dog?”
“You know what I mean,” Megan sniffs. I stifle a giggle behind my hand. Corey’s dark, intense
eyes flicker to me then away. It’s enough to paint my cheeks pink.
Geez. Now I’m the one who’s being ridic. He looked at me…so? It’s bad enough I’ve been
harboring this insane crush on my best friend’s older brother for three years. One split-second
moment of direct eye contact should not send a flush of heat all over my skin.
“Alright, fine.” Meg whirls to me, lowering her voice. Not so low he can’t still hear. “What do
you think, Aris, should I go with a plunging neckline”—she draws a V down her chest with her
fingertips—“or a thigh-high slit”—she winks, pretending to hike a dress up her leg—“hmm, maybe
both…”
Tense silence follows. I peer over at Corey, who’s frowning at the both of us.
“I’ll make myself scarce,” he grumbles. Smart man. I have to school my eyes from training too
hard on his backside, his broad, hard shoulders and those dark jeans that do very, very nice things for
his butt, as Corey turns and stalks away.
I settle for the cinnamon swirls, since I can’t have him.
 “The plunging neckline,” I answer Megan, once her brother is out of earshot. “Definitely.”
“That’s what I was thinking too.” Grinning victoriously, she twines her arm with mine as we head
for the treats. “Let’s find you a leggy one then.”
“Um, no thanks.”
“Ah.” She smiles knowingly. “Going for the plunge then?”
“Yeah, that’s going to happen.”
“Oh…honey,” Megan sighs, her way of gently admonishing me for feeling insecure.
I shake my head. “Don’t start.”
She agrees to behave. We load up on the sugary carbs, maybe not the wisest choice right before
we’re about to try on prom dresses, but it’s instant gratification, and I already know how I’m going to
feel after this whole shopping thing is over. Like crap. I’ll make better choices another day.
Today, I just want to get this over with and come out alive.
I haven’t been looking forward to trying on gowns, but I am excited to go to prom. After Megan’s
on-again/off-again relationship ended in a blowout fight, she’s sworn off guys. I’m her perpetually
single BFF who’s never even been kissed. So we agreed to be each other’s prom dates, so we know
we’ll have fun and won’t be let down.
“How much time do we have?” I ask.
Meg shrugs, licking the gooey sides of her cinnamon bun into submission. “How long is a piece of
string?”
I giggle at that non-answer. We both know we won’t last long here.
We’re lucky Corey was available to drive us today. With prom two weeks away, time is ticking
and the best dresses are probably gone. Meg doesn’t have a car yet, and mine’s in the shop for a
couple more days. I don’t really care about having flashy, expensive things, but I do love to drive.
Someday it’d be nice to own a car that doesn’t break down every couple of months.
“Corey won’t get called out?” I check, as we head into the dress shop.
“That’s always a risk.” She spots a gaudy red frock and beelines over to it. “Oohh.” Her eyes
sparkle with mischief.
“No,” I snort. She pouts. “Divide and conquer?”
“Okay. Let me know if you see anything that looks like—me.”
She agrees to do the same for me, something pretty but not too attention-grabbing; flattering
without…flaunting. There’s no hiding my curves. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Megan is easier. Tall and thin, clothing is literally made for her. I’m glad we’re going to prom
together, but I do feel bad for her that she won’t be going with Dustin. She only ever imagined going
with him. Then a month ago, he broke her heart. Again.
 I hate shopping. As I scan the racks I try not to let my thoughts spin back to Corey. It’s futile. Not
just because I like him so much, but also because I do have to wonder how we’ll get home if he gets
called out. Like Megan said, there’s always a risk. I know too, from experience.
Corey’s job on the Fort Montevallo S.W.A.T. team—working alongside my stepdad, Shane—can
be demanding and stressful. He never seems stressed though. Corey has a calm, steady presence that’s
also very acutely aware. It would be silly of me to wonder if he’s figured out about my crush. Of
course he has. Probably since it first sprang to life. The guy seems to know everything.
So his earlier concern makes me feel a bit wary. Maybe we should’ve let him tag along…for
safety reasons.
I find one halfway decent dress and head for the dressing room. Megan comes in hauling a load of
them. We have the exact opposite problem. She’ll choose her favorite of a dozen dresses that look
amazing on her. I’ll pick the one that looks the least bad on me.
“Stop that,” she chides, apparently hearing my thoughts. “Stop that right now.”
I roll my eyes. “Anything for me in there?”
“Yes. Two, actually!” She passes them to me and we head into our separate stalls.
“Meg?” I ask.
“Yeah, honey?”
“We’re totally safe in here, right?”
I hear her puff out a breath of air. “Yes. Stop worrying. In fact”—she clamors around, getting
situated with her bounty—“consider this an official no-anxiety zone.”
I nod, looking in the mirror. I take a big breath and try on the first dress. It looks like a rainbow
threw up on me.
“Besides,” says Megan, “I have my mace with me.”
“Oh my god”—laughing, I step out of the hideous gown—“remember when you first got it and we
wanted to see how bad it really was, so we totally maced ourselves?”
“We’re idiots,” Megan chortles. “How are those self-defense lessons going with Shane, by the
way?”
“Frustrating. He’s so much nicer to his regular students.”
“It’s a father-daughter thing,” says Megan. “My dad was a nutcase teaching me to drive.”
Outwardly, I chuckle. Inside, her words are kind of…heartwarming. It’s been almost seven years
since Shane met my mom. We are like father and daughter. Even though I still normally call him
Shane. He’s father to my five baby brothers and sisters, the closest thing to a dad I’ve ever known.
And he’s a dang good one.
“Well, I wish it was easier. I’d feel better if I at least knew a few moves.” I’ve always had a little
anxiety, but ever since my mom and I were mugged a year ago while Shane was on duty, it’s gotten
worse. I’m afraid of everything, strangers, Corey, calories, tulle…
I change into dress number two.
“Why don’t you just ask my brother?”
“Ask me what?” My body hums in response to Corey’s warm masculine voice on the other side of
the dressing room door.
I still, studying my reflection in the mirror. The second dress Megan chose not only fits, it actually
looks…good.
Meg opens her stall door. “Aris wants to learn self-defense.”
“Nice dress,” Corey compliments.
“I think it’s the one. Aris? You make up your mind?”
“Yes. I think so.”
My bestie squeals. “I bet it’s one I chose. The red one right? Eep! Let’s see it!”
I step out, staring first at the floor. Megan gasps. I lift my gaze to Corey’s face, his dark eyes
wide. “Wow,” he exhales. “You look amazing.”
“Thank you.”
I watch as Corey dryly swallows. “I’ll wait out here while you guys change. Smiles,” he adds,
“we’ll talk about those self-defense lessons.”
My nerves are buzzing with excitement as I get back into my regular clothes and carry the dress to
the checkout counter, where Corey and Megan are waiting. The salesclerk rings me up while I dig
around for my debit card.
“Oh, shoot.”
“What is it, honey?” Megan says.
“I left my debit card in my other purse.” I shake my head, my earlier excitement now deflated.
Figures this would happen. Only because it’s the perfect dress to wear to prom.
“I can spot you—”
“No you can’t,” Corey cuts in. She throws him a look. “You’re already over the budget Mom and
Dad set.” He fishes out his wallet and pulls out a credit card, handing it over to the salesclerk.
“You don’t have to, Corey.”
“Your dad would kill me if I let you leave here with nothing to wear to prom,” he counters. My
heart clenches. My dad. His sister. What the hell is the matter with me, crushing on him? This guy is
double off-limits.
Heat crawls up my neck. He’s already done so much, driven us here, offered to teach me self-
defense. Even if I wasn’t harboring a planet-sized crush on my best friend’s brother, I don’t like the
thought of being more in his debt.
But what choice do I have right now?
“Thanks. I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“No.” The corner of his mouth kicks up in a smirk. Dangerous, that smirk. Even worse is the way
Corey then dips his head to my ear to whisper, “Happy Birthday.”
 Two

Corey

“Like this.” I demonstrate the combination once again. “Remember to relax, and keep your dukes
up.”
“You’re saying I need to chill out, and be guarded at the same time?” Aris quips lightheartedly.
She gets into the position. “Gotcha.”
“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying.” I chuckle. I lay my hands over her fists, ignoring the
heated pulse that makes a clear path to my chest every time we touch. Holding her fists, I move her
arms around until her muscles go limp and her arms become pliant as Jell-O.
In that space is where I have her total focus. And she has mine. I look into those crystal blue eyes
for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
“Anxiety robs your awareness,” I coach. “Tension in your body will make you react out of fear.
Here”—I press a hand to my lower stomach—“instead of here”—I point to my temple with two
fingers. “Nothing can compete with?”
“Water,” she answers, her voice soft, lyrical. “Lao Tzu.”
“Good girl.” I stand back and watch her perform the combination. “Again.”
Aris is in beautiful shape, flexible, and surprisingly strong. She attacks the air with dedication. I
grin, proud of her.
But she won’t be fighting off air. If anyone ever comes into her personal space, grabs her by the
wrist, or her hair, or the back of her neck, she’ll need to be able to get away. The mere thought makes
me grit my jaw and tighten my fists at my sides. God help the person who ever tries to harm this girl.
It’s up to me to make sure Aris can defend herself. “Again,” I grunt.
She executes it with power and precision. Her auburn hair comes loose from its bun. Aris wheels
to me, breathless. She makes a face like she’s not quite sure, her shimmering eyes searching mine for
approval.
It’s the same look she wore on her face ten days ago, when she stepped out of her dressing room
in that infernal fucking red dress. That particular mental image of her is permanently branded against
my skull. I kicked myself all the way home for buying it for her. For someone to see, and that someone
ain’t me.
I step toward her as she catches her breath. Reaching behind her neck, I gather up all of her long,
lush hair and tie it back into a bun. Aris’s eyes never leave mine.
Setting my hands on top of her shoulders, I say, “That was a lot better, Smiles.” It shouldn’t bring
me so much pleasure to witness red creep up her neck and cheeks.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
“Now. Lie on your back.”
Aris complies without hesitation. I lower down to cage her legs between my knees, and press my
fingers against her throat. Her ocean-blue eyes saucer.
“You want to know how to get out of this?”
Aris swallows against my fingertips. She says, in a sultry, brazen voice, “Not really.”
Fuck. The way her stare roves down my neck and chest, and lower, leaves a stirring feeling in my
pants I have to try very hard to temper.
It’s futile. My cock awakens, becoming hard as a rock against her thighs.
“Bad girl,” I husk out. I have to stop these obsessive thoughts of her. These possessive thoughts.
I’m twenty-five. A bit too old to lust over a high school girl. Yes, she was a knockout in that dress,
revealing herself to me in a whole new light. She wasn’t trying it on for me though, she was trying it
on for her senior prom.
Thank Christ she’s only going with my sister.
I war with the instinct to claim her lips, and instead show Aris how to defend against a mount like
this, to seize my wrist in a closed guard, then secure my arms and at the same time lock her legs
around my neck, then press down with her hips, hard, to torque her attacker’s elbow joint.
Aris does it terrifically, making me growl out mercy.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Corey!”
“Don’t be.” Standing up, I shake out my arms and give her a hand to help her up. “That was
perfect.” Facing me, her hair mussed, her eyes wet with desire that matches my own, I’m thankful I
chose to do these lessons here. She ain’t wearing that damn dress now, but I can’t unsee what I saw. A
gorgeous girl.
A goddess.
That’s why the best place to train Aris is here in the gym at HQ. There’s always a lot going on at
her house, with her five siblings and their dog. My apartment would be ideal, there’s plenty of space
and quiet there, but we’ve never been completely alone before. It would seem too intimate.
At HQ, where my SWAT teammates and the other Fort Montevallo MPs are always milling about,
there’s at least some room to practice and get into the mindset. It’s not the most distraction-free place,
but it’s free of inherent…risk.
She’s a natural, and she don’t even know it. She will. Aris blows out a puff of air, blowing her
hair out of her face.
“Let’s take five.” I hand her a bottle of water. “You earned it.”
 “Oh thank goodness, water.”
We sit side by side on a metal bench. Aris lets her hair down, draping it across her shoulder as
she steadies her breaths. My fingers itch to run through those silken, reddish locks a second time. I
tame my thoughts. We’ve had a few of these sessions already, and it’s brought our guard down as
we’ve gotten to know each other. Maybe too much.
She’s unwittingly endeared me to her. But through subtle clues, I’ve also learned she needs me for
way more than my dick.
“Talk to me, Smiles. What is it that’s got you all wound up?”
She looks at me, vulnerable, and reticent, at the same time. “You know how Mom and I were
mugged last year?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know she went all mama-bear and kicked total butt? If it weren’t for her…”
I chuckle deeply. “That’s also what I heard. I wasn’t sure how much Shane embellished that little
detail.”
“I don’t know, but he didn’t have to. She was amazing. And I…” she blinks. “I wanted to be
amazing, too. If I ever needed to be.”
“You are amazing, in lots of ways.”
“Pfft.”
“I mean it. Look how far you’ve come in just a few sessions. You catch on quick. Plus you’re
smart, and sweet. And…” I should be alarmed by the pull between us. But when I look at her, I can
clearly see one thing—mine. I lower my voice. “…beautiful.”
She smiles meekly. That gorgeous grin is one of the things I like most about her. “Is that part of the
lesson?” she jokes.
“Yeah, it is. Confidence is one of the most critical elements. Didn’t your stepdad teach you that?”
“You know how he is,” Aris says, shrugging. “Such a perfectionist when it comes to form,
technique. He makes me nervous with his OCD.”
I huff a laugh. “Welcome to my world.”
Stillness and quiet fall on us then. Serenity, and at the same time the otherwise-vacant room
becomes…charged.
Aris glances up at me, then away. When she looks again I catch her, holding her gaze. I watch her
eyes fall to my lips. There’s nothing I want more than to give her what she wants. To kiss her, and
claim her, and lasso the goddamn moon, if that’s what she wants.
This little girl is doing quite a number on me.
It’s all wrong. I’ve known Aris for years. I’ve always thought of her as my kid sister’s sweet, cute
friend. But there’s nothing kiddie about Aris anymore, and she’s more than cute. She’s sexy as sin.
I school my lustful thoughts, again. I can’t think of her that way. Aris is eighteen—barely. She’s
my little sister’s best friend, and my teammate’s daughter. If one of the guys ever looked at my sister
the way I’m looking at Aris now, I’d have their balls on a spear.
I want to help her with this, and everything else. But she’s as off-limits as it gets, and if I can’t get
ahold of myself, I’ll need to stay away.
Now there’s a thought I can’t stand to fucking entertain.
“Smiles,” I whisper, but it comes out a quiet groan. “You can’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she purrs. Little flirt.
“Like you want me.” It’s enough to make my sex ache to be inside her.
Her soft, breathy voice is a sharp contrast to her bold question. “Do you want me, Corey?” Fuck
yeah, I do. I want this girl in the worst way. Telling her is on the tip of my tongue.
The door to this part of the gym opens behind us, and Shane walks in, splicing the sexual tension
so it becomes…just tension. I heave a quiet, tortured sigh.
“Hey, punkin,” he says to Aris. “Corey. You guys about done here?”
“Yep.” I clap Aris on the shoulder as we stand up, avoiding looking in her eyes. “Great job
today.”
 Three

Aris

The thing about prom night is, it’s supposed to be memorable. For better or worse. In my case,
unfortunately, I will always remember this night for being the worst.
Forget the fact that not one single guy in my school asked me to be their date in the first place.
Or my wardrobe malfunction, which occurred the second I sat down next to Megan in the back
seat of the limo. Both spaghetti straps popped off like they were on a mission.
The music was bad.
The food was bad.
I had to dance like a penguin with my arms glued to my sides, or else give the entire senior class
a boob-flash.
And then, it went from awful, to worse, when Megan and Dustin’s song came on and he stole her
away for what was supposed to be one dance. One. And ended up with her ditching me to spend the
rest of the night with him.
‘Are you sure it’s ok, honey?’
‘Yes, of course!’
What was I supposed to say, no?
Yeah…I should’ve said no.
Usually the good thing about having anxiety is you’re always ready for the worst-case scenario.
But sitting alone at prom, tucking my hands into my armpits to hold up my dress, it’s worse than
worst.
Is this somehow all my fault? I should’ve known Megan and D would get back together—it’s
what they do.
I didn’t think this dress all the way through. I reacted impulsively simply because it made Corey’s
eyes light up. What if that was just in my head?
Sigh. For two weeks Corey’s been training me to defend myself in case anyone ever tries to beat
me up. But what do I do when it’s me beating me up?
Corey. He’s the only one I want to talk to or see right now. I step outside, wrapping one arm
against my boobs and attacking my phone with my other thumb in search of his number. I find it, call
it. I don’t have an urge to cry until Corey’s voice comes through the speaker, and suddenly a whole
lakeful of tears lodge in my throat.
“Aris, what’s wrong?” His voice is low and husky, like he’s been sleeping, or… ohmygod, what
if he’s on a date right now?
“I’m not b-bothering you right now, a-am I?” I say weakly, sobbing. What’s worse than worse
than worst? This. This is. I can’t even wipe my bleary eyes because I’m out of hands.
“You could never bother me, Smiles. But aren’t you supposed to be at prom?” He seems to wake
up, if he was in fact sleeping. His tone becomes harder, sobered. “Where’s Megan?”
I blubber my way through an explanation, getting to about the halfway point when he stops me.
“Aris, honey, shh. Stay where you’re at. I’ll be right there.”

***

Corey pulls up and steps out to open the passenger door for me. He closes it after I’m buckled in,
rounds the front of his black crew cab, and slides back into the driver’s seat. “Let’s get you home.”
His cologne, some mix of citrus and sandalwood, intoxicates me. Was he wearing that before I
called? “What if I don’t want to go home?” I ask.
“Alright”—he slides me a quick look, then faces forward, shifting the truck into drive—“we can
do something else. Are you hungry? I’ll take you out to eat.”
I’m hungry, but not for food, I want to say. “No thanks, I ate.”
He issues a thoughtful sound. “Why don’t you want to go home, Smiles?”
“It’s really late, and my parents…you know, they have so much going on with the twins, and the
triplets, and Buster,” I babble. “I don’t want to worry them.”
He cracks a smirk that could turn my panties into puddles. “What’s the real reason?”
I gulp a swallow. “I just want to spend time…with you,” I confess, so quietly I’m not even sure he
heard it. Ah what the hell, not like this night can get any worse, right? Heat assaults my chest and face
with a vengeance as silence descends between us. I keep my gaze trained on the floorboards.
Suddenly the warmth of Corey’s hand is enveloping mine. My fingers tingle. My heart skips into a
gallop. I look over to meet his gaze. He winks.
“Alright then,” Corey says, all husky and warm, “I’ll take you…home.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling too big. Is this really happening?
There’s a chance I’m going to hell for this, whatever this comes to. Even though I’m not the first
of Megan’s friends to crush on her brother—he’s got that universally droolworthy kind of
handsomeness going on, what can you expect?
And she’s never explicitly said that he’s off-limits.
But I’m pretty sure it’s like an unspoken, universal girl-code thing? Don’t crush too hard on your
best friend’s sibling?
 She’s always been there for me when I’m feeling down. Tonight notwithstanding. That was an
epic friend-fail on her part. But still…I can’t betray my best friend. I can’t.
No matter what magic her brother sparks in my soul.
So much magic.
 Four

Aris

Forget everything I said before.

I want this man. Bad.
Like his truck, Corey’s apartment smells like him. His pheromones. I want to wrap myself up in
the scent of him until I’m dizzy.
He keeps his place clean, for a guy. It’s cozy. Maybe I just think so because it’s his.
“Tell me what happened,” Corey prompts, handing me a glass of water.
“I did.” I take the water, still holding my gown up with my other hand, and sip it.
“Nah-ah.” He shakes his head in rebuke. “C’mon, it was a big night, I know there’s more. Did you
at least dance?”
“Only with your sister.”
He pulls a face. “Even the slow songs?”
“No.” My heart tips inside my barely covered chest. Corey gives me a waiting look, so I add,
“I’m…bigger than the other girls. Let’s just say I’m no one’s first pick to slow dance with.”
“Pfft,” he scoffs. “Little boys. They don’t appreciate shape, yet,” he says, wearing a panty-
pulverizing smirk. “They will, when they’re man enough.”
Does that mean he is man enough? It doesn’t really get any more manly than him. I think he knows
it, too. “Well, little boys didn’t want to slow dance with me, so”—I pause to drain the last sip of
water from the glass—“I didn’t.”
Corey takes my now-empty water glass and sets it down. “You’ve got to slow dance on your
prom night. Isn’t that like, a rule?”
“Whose rule?”
“Ours.” Smiling, he offers me his hand. “Dance with me?”
Am I dreaming? I’m dreaming. Odd. I’ve never been this good at dreams. My hand feels right at
home cocooned in his bigger, rougher one.
He leads me across the living room to turn on some music. Heavy metal blasts through the
speakers at first. He quickly lowers the volume and mouths ‘sorry,’ looking sheepish and cute. He
puts on a slower song. I recognize the opening chords of Chris Cornell’s cover of “Patience.” My
eyes drop to the hollow of Corey’s throat as he pulls me into him.
He holds me close, one hand resting on the small of my back, the other still clasping one of mine.
Our cheeks barely brush. I breathe him in, holding onto the air in my lungs. I hear Corey deeply
inhale, too.
He pulls me in even closer, and my breasts smoosh against his hard, muscular chest, so I don’t
even have to hold up my dress anymore. I do anyway.
“What is this?” He nudges my arm playfully with the bend of his elbow. “You’ve really never
done this before, Smiles,” he says, factually. His husky voice is tinged with humor, and pleasure.
“That hand goes behind my shoulder.”
“I need it here, to keep my dress from falling down.”
“Mm,” he exhales. Or was that a groan? “Do you really need to?” His gaze finds mine, and it
rends me.
“No. I guess not.” I let go of the dress to lay my hand against the nape of his neck. The skin right
there feels good, ropey, and delicate. My top doesn’t fall down like I expected, just dips a half-inch
lower than it’s made to.
Corey unleashes a ragged sound, his hooded eyes darkening to near-black.
“You can’t look at me like that, Corey,” I echo his earlier words.
“Like what?”
“Like you want me.”
He remembers. His voice dips low, languorous, when he says, “Do you want me, Smiles?”
“You know I do. I have for a long time.”
“A long time?” he questions, lifting an eyebrow. “That, I did not know.”
“Now you do.”
“I do. And here’s the thing”—he reaches one hand up to brush my hair off my cheek—“I want you,
too.”
“Oh.”
And then his lips descend on mine, sending my already-frazzled heart into fits.
This is a prom night I will definitely never forget.

Corey

Not too long ago, she was just a girl. Now she’s the woman I want most in the world. The only
woman I want. And I want her to know it. Right or wrong or some shade of gray in between, I could
not fucking care less right now. I want my girl to know she’s wanted.
When I pull back from the kiss, I’m met with a look I’ve never seen in those big blue eyes before.
Hungry, needful. Desperate. It’s all the invitation I need to do it again. But.
“Aris,” I say in warning, but my voice is too strangled to be convincing.
 “Don’t, Corey. Don’t say what you’re going to say.”
I chuckle, but it ain’t funny. “You don’t know what I’m going to say.”
“No,” she agrees, pouty, and adorable, “but I’ve never been kissed before that. And it was
amazing. Better than amazing. And then you stopped.”
I growl out a frustrated breath, letting my gaze journey down the line of her neck, to her
collarbones. Further. How in fuck has she never been kissed? It takes every whit of willpower I have
left, however splintered, not to run my tongue and lips over hers again, and then everywhere else.
What exactly happened when she turned eighteen, that imbued her with this new, sensual
boldness?
As we slow dance more her dress shimmies lower, and lower, until I can see the barest hint of
her pink nipple. Luscious, that’s what she is. She’s fucking luscious. I jerk my gaze up to her face, her
mouth, but that ain’t any safer. Every inch of her is too much temptation.
And somehow we’ve wandered very close to my bedroom door.
“We can’t,” I grumble. My hard cock pressed to her stomach says otherwise.
“Why not?”
Let me count the ways…
Aris frowns, flicking her pretty eyes up at me as she feigns innocence. Damn. She’s cute as fuck.
If only I could take my eyes off her lips. “I don’t remember,” I groan, my mouth clamping down on
hers again. God I love her sweet taste. Just like that my self-control is shredded, and the next thing I
know I’m holding her face with both hands, pinning her against the wall. She mewls, and my hands go
exploring. They roam up and down her soft curvaceous body.
I need her. All of her, inside and out. I’ve never been drawn so completely to any other woman
this way. Like she’s always belonged to me.
There’s a word for that, and it’s sitting right at the tip of my tongue. But I’ve never said it to
anyone before who wasn’t family, or drunk, or both. Now I’ve got half a mind to make tonight a night
of firsts, for both of us.
Thank God Aris held her dress up so effectually at her prom, because it slides down even more,
gradually, then all at once, the fabric bunching around her waist, exposing her beautiful tits. No bra. I
pounce, squeezing them in two perfect handfuls. I tease her hard nipples between my thumb and
forefinger. Aris moans. She reaches down between us, fumbling with the button on my jeans.
For a young woman who just had her very first kiss, she isn’t holding back now. And I ain’t
complaining. She undoes the button and slides down the zipper. She dives into my pants, and frees my
sex.
Our lips crash. We ping-pong through the doorway and into the moonlit bedroom, her hand still
wrapped around my pulsating shaft. I lay her down on my bed, gripping two fistfuls of the dress I
bought her, my greedy hands yanking it all the way down her legs.
“Sweet Christ.” The sight of her in my bed wearing nothing but a thong is enough to make me
want to pull my dick raw just looking at her.
“I told you…” Her eyes soften, becoming reticent. “…I was curvy.”
“You didn’t have to tell me, babe.” I proffer a smirk. “I knew.” I peel off my shirt and shuck out of
my jeans, watching her face light up anew. “Now I’m gonna show you”—lowering my voice, I crawl
into bed with her—“how much I desire those curves. Each, and every, one.”
I kiss a featherlight trail from the shell of her ear to her chest, spending extra time between her
breasts. She bucks her hips, arching her back as I claim one nipple in my mouth, then the other. Only
after I’ve teased both pretty pink tips mercilessly do I descend down her body, kissing and nipping
and nibbling until I’m there—nudging my nose between her thighs. I inhale the fragrance of her sweet,
sweet arousal, holding the breath deep in my lungs.
“You smell so exquisite, baby.” I hook one finger into her thong, sliding it over. I take a moment to
just stare, reverently. Fuck. I could spend all night leisurely licking that perfect, juicy little peach.
“Such a beautiful pussy.”
I peel off her panties.
I nudge her knees further apart as I make myself right at home between her legs. Aris gasps when
my lips touch her swollen clit. “Mmm,” I moan, holding onto her while she shivers in delight. God I
love her. I love her thighs against my ears. I love her breathy little sounds of pleasure. I love the taste
of her honey as I slide my tongue up and down her wet folds.
“That feels so good,” Aris pants. “Too good, Corey. You’re torturing me.”
That makes both of us. As much as I’d love to feast on her some more, I need to be inside her.
Now.
I push up against the mattress, grinning as I crawl over Aris once again. My erection springs
toward her, and her eyes widen.
“Don’t worry, Smiles. It will fit.”
“I don’t think so,” she argues, with a girlish giggle. “But I’m really excited to try.”
“Yeah?” I press the tip against her seam. “You want my cock, baby?”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Inside. Please.”
I push the head between her folds, and Aris issues a soft yelp.
I pause, reaching up to paw at her tits. I narrow my gaze. “Do you remember how to get out of
this?”
“Do you remember that I don’t want to?” she volleys back.
 I laugh. “Roger that.”
I hold up the backs of her thighs as I peer down, at the crown of my junk wrapped in her hot, tight
folds. She’s gasping and moaning, and I’m only just getting started. I sling her legs around me and
reach for her hands, clasping them as I shove the whole length inside of her in one smooth, steady
plunge.
Aris cries out, and I bend down to kiss her lips. I pull back, then sink into her again. Out, in. Nice
and slow until her channel yields to my girth and her hips grind against mine, urging me on. Meeting
my thrusts.
“More,” she simpers. “I’m okay. Don’t stop.”
I love you.
Over and over I dive into her, our bodies rocking together in a perfect crescendo, a new pace
that’s only ours. Can only ever be ours.
I love you.
She locks her ankles, reaching up to drag her nails down my spine. I fuck her harder, deeper. I
know she’s close.
I love you.
Faster, deeper. Harder.
“I love you,” I say it, and I hear it. My words, and hers. Together, in the same breath.
Powerful waves of pleasure surge, and crest, and violently crash, almost knocking me right out as
my girl comes, so intensely she tows me over the edge with her. I plunge into her once more, filling
her all the way to the hilt as I paint her walls with my seed.
Aris smiles. That smile.
“I love you, baby.” I kiss her. And then I kiss her some more. “I fucking love you.”
 Five

Aris

Pregnant.
It’s been five weeks. Only Corey knows. We haven’t told anyone that we’re dating yet. I want to.
But it’s still so new, and it’s good, and I don’t want anything to mess that up. I remember my parents’
divorce. It was ugly. And I’ve watched Megan and Dustin swing back and forth like a pendulum so
often it makes me woozy.
Of course that could just be my morning sickness.
Geesh. I wish I could keep us a secret a little bit longer. It feels so special, like what we have is
only ours, at least for now. But with a baby coming…we really need to start telling some people.
Megan first.
Then my dad.
I’m no relationship expert, but I’ve witnessed others crash and burn. Maybe if I hold on to this
tight enough, I can keep it sacred.
Megan and Dustin broke up after prom, got back together at graduation, then broke up again, “for
real this time,” a week ago.
Today my bestie and I are back at the mall—which I drove us to, thank you very much—treating
ourselves to some retail therapy and warm, doughy cinnamon swirls. The way Corey loves and
accepts my body just the way it is, I find that I no longer hate shopping.
I realize that’s silly. Outwardly, pregnancy hasn’t changed my body at all yet. I’m the same me as
before. I could’ve liked shopping all this time, if I would have just accepted my body the way Corey
has.
“Look at this!” I turn to see a squealing Megan standing in front of a gorgeous blush-pink, faux-
leather handbag with golden clasps. “It’s so you!”
I can shop for more than just accessories, but old habits die hard, and she’s right. That purse is
me. I’m practically drooling over it.
I flip over the price tag. “Yowza.”
“Let me buy it for you.” She picks it up. There’s sorrow in her eyes. I know it’s her guilt. Meg
still feels horrible for leaving me alone at prom. I wish she wouldn’t. The more she drags this out, the
worse I feel for keeping the World’s Biggest Secret from my best friend.
“Will you stop? I told you it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. I ruined your prom night. And for what? Dustin the Dicknipple. Worse, you had
to get a ride home from my brother.” She wrinkles her nose, and holds the handbag tight to her chest.
“I insist.”
I should tell her the truth like, yesterday, but the words won’t form. She practically leaps over to
the checkout counter to make the purchase.
Later, we’re walking through the parking garage on our way back to my car, and I get this eerie,
weighted sensation. It’s…familiar.
Then comes a voice, too threatening, too close. A stranger’s voice. “Give me your money.”
Meg and I both startle, wheeling around as one with our arms intertwined. She gives the man a
head-to-toe perusal, screwing up her face at him. “No.”
He quirks his brow, taken aback, maybe even disturbed by her grit. Then he lunges straight for
me. My arm comes loose from Megan’s. She screams. He spins me around so my back is pressed
against his chest, my throat locked in the crook of his elbow.
I remember everything Corey taught me. No one wants to ever be in this position, and I might
never be strong enough to spar with a grown man. But it isn’t impossible to escape a standing rear
choke like this. I slide Megan a fearless look. I got this.
In one breath I sweep my foot behind the brute and grab his legs and we both fall back.
For a second I forget what I’m supposed to do next: fucking run! My instincts aren’t exactly
honed.
I stare right into the assailant’s face, wide-eyed. He looks stunned too. And then he just looks
pissed-off. He balls his fists, and I jump to my feet. My hands instinctively go to my stomach.
“No!” I shout. “The baby!”
“Ahh shit,” the guy sneers. Shaking his head, he backs away slowly, hands raised in surrender.
And then he bolts.
The only sound is our rapid breathing.
Megan eventually whirls to me, her expression pulled into a question mark. “Did you just
say…baby?”
“Yes.”
“Whose baby?”
“Mine.”
“Your—what? When did you even have sex?”
“Remember, um, prom night?”
“Yeah…” She stretches the word until it’s just breath. “But you said Corey picked you up?”
I gulp a swallow, waiting for the ball to drop.
“Oh my gawd, honey.” Megan wraps me up in a squeeze. But it isn’t congratulations. It’s…
sympathy? “I’m so sorry I ditched you, and you were so lonely that you slept with my brother! I’ll kill
him! And now you’re—” She breaks from me, laying her palms against my belly. “Is it his?”
“Yes,” I answer, taking her hand. I’m ready to get back in my car and get the hell out of this
parking garage. We walk and talk.
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
“Holy-moly, this is huge! Did he freak out or what?”
If only she knew, her formerly commitment-phobic brother was actually over the moon. I smile,
and yes, it’s a big, big smile. No, I don’t care. “He didn’t freak out.”
We get in the car and buckle in. She pokes my cheek. “You’re blushing.”
“I love him,” I say, too abruptly, but with so much earnest, “we’re totally in love.” After a long
moment that’s too quiet, I start the car. Megan pins me with a dubious stare as I back out.
“Holy shit,” she gasps, some added revelation dawning on her. “We’re gonna be sisters!”
“Yeah, kinda.” I grin again, matching hers. In some ways it feels like we’ve always been sisters.
“But um,” I mutter, “we should seriously call the cops.”
 Six

Corey

When Aris told me about the attack at the mall, not a half hour ago, my vision went red. That’s
two attempted robberies in barely a year. The Wylder Bluffs aren’t known for a lot of crime—much
of my work with the Fort Montevallo S.W.A.T. team is on base, or closer to Boise—but as the
population grows, the crime has started to tick up.
Thank fuck she and Megan are okay.
I’m proud of Aris; sounds like she did exactly what I taught her to. But I’m not about to let my
guard down. I have to keep working with her. Especially now that she’s carrying my baby.
The baby. Now there’s a whole other set of challenges, joy and concern all twisted together. I
admit, I wanted to flip the fuck out at first. I think I hid that tumult alright. Aris had her own emotional
weight to carry, she didn’t need to take on mine.
I knew I’d be fine. When it came down to it, I already knew without a doubt I wanted Aris for the
rest of my life. I’m ready to marry that girl. I knew I’d want to breed her someday.
Wish I could’ve been there to see the look on Megan’s face when it all came out. That’s one
down. One to go.
I’m still wound up after learning what happened outside the mall. She called the cops, and I know
they’re on it. Only one way to get all this angry tension out of me—well, two ways, but Aris ain’t
here to help me with one. The other way is to get to the gym and pump it out.
My teammate, Bradley, is also here, stress exercising. It smells like iron, sweat, and
determination. Heavy rock music blasts from the speakers.
Ever since Aris dealt me the big news a week ago, I’ve been wanting to talk to another dad. Not
my dad, not yet. Preferably another SWAT officer, but there’re only two dads on the team. Shane is
one. The other is Bradley.
I lift my chin at him in greeting, and he does the same. It’s not the most conducive environment for
chitchat, but I can’t exactly picture sitting down with him at a coffee shop.
“How you been, man?” I ask between sets.
Bradley grunts with his last rep. He puts down the weight. “Stressed.”
“Same here.” I huff a laugh. “How’s your kid doin’?”
“Struggling.”
“School?” Bradley’s son Caleb has got to be in the first or second grade now. Might not seem
hard when you’re twenty-five. But it’s a big transition away from naps and play.
 “Little bit,” he says.
“Yeah?” I ask. “What’s that like?”
“Bro.” He picks the weight back up, curling his biceps. Talking—or rather, almost yelling over
the cranked music—is no reason to slow down or stop. “What’s with the goddamn twenty questions?”
“Ah,” I make a little noise he can’t hear. I shrug. It’s all the reply he needs to call me out.
“You got a girl pregnant?” When I take too long to either confirm or deny the assertion, Bradley
gives a hearty chuckle. “If I wish you congratulations, would I be the first?”
“Indeed,” I answer. I can’t help but crack a smile. It feels too good to say it out loud.
“Hey man, that’s excellent news. Congratulations.”
“You’re not going to ask me who?”
He looks at me sidelong in the mirror. “No.”
I get it. He don’t want information he shouldn’t have. He’s good, that guy. Smart. Keeps his
conscious as clean as a whistle.
“What else?” he says, taking me off guard.
“Hmm?”
“I see more questions spinning in that hat-rack of yours. Go on. Lay it on me.”
“Alright…Did you always know you’d be a good father?”
“Man I still don’t fucking know,” he chortles. “I’ll tell you this though, that boy is my whole entire
world.”
My heart clenches. It’s got to be tough for this dude, having a crazy-ass job like ours while being
alpha-and-omega to a six-year-old kid. Bradley lost his wife too soon. And yet, the man lights up
when he talks about Caleb.
If you can get him to start talking at all.
The door to the gym opens and Shane walks in. He kills the music and crosses the room over to
me. Big arms crossed over his chest, his stolid mien, he looks at me eye to eye. From the corner of my
eye I make out Bradley gingerly making his way out of the gym.
“I got a call from Aris,” Shane clips, apparent threat in his low tone. Without any music or the
clamor of iron, his deep voice echoes.
“We didn’t plan this, sir. We should’ve been more careful, that’s my bad. Fuck,” I grind out, “I
wanted to be the one to tell you. We agreed I would be the one—” I’m talking too much, if the
tightening of his jaw muscles is any indication.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Shane says, his eyebrows knitting together.
I clear my throat. “What were you going to tell me, sir?” I straighten up, meeting his stare. He
doesn’t outrank me, technically. But he is ten years older. There’s a certain respect due upon him.
 Not to mention I’m going to ask him if I can marry his daughter.
“I wanted to say—thank you. Aris was able to defend herself, and your sister Megan, enough to
escape. Thanks to your instruction.” He nods, once. “I wish I could take credit, Corey. But I didn’t get
very far with teaching her.”
“Course you didn’t. You’re her dad.”
“Yeah.” His eyes narrow, sharply. “I am.”
The air becomes thick with tension. I already admitted too much. There is no taking it back, and
frankly, I don’t want to take it back. He can stare hot daggers into my soul all he wants.
My next words are pretty stupid. “I waited until she was eighteen.”
“And not one minute more.”
“Well.” I proffer a grin. Also pretty fuckin’ stupid. “A few minutes more.”
Shane steps closer, growling, but he doesn’t get in my face. I’m a half-inch taller so that wouldn’t
bode totally well for him. “You trying to get the lights knocked outta that thick skull of yours, son?”
“No. Sir.”
We stay like this for what feels like an hour, but is probably roughly twenty seconds. I can think of
a hundred things to say to him now, none of them are wholesome, or justified, or anything close to
what he wants to hear. My shoulders drop, humbly, as I let go of my breath.
“I love her, Shane,” I purge, suicidally maybe, I don’t care. “I love her so much.”
He cocks a brow. His intense stare is unrelenting. But his tone of voice seems…diluted. Diluted
with a sense of betrayal. A sense of regret. A sense of cheer, when he utters the word, “Pregnant?”
“Five weeks.”
Nothing else is said for a while. Bradley comes back into the gym to get his bag. He leaves again.
Quietness pervades—everything.
And then, “She defended him too, then,” Shane recognizes, “or her.” He looks at me. “Aris saved
my grandchild.”
 Epilogue

Aris

My parents survived the news. Barely. Let’s just say it was a close call.
Time can be a wonderful thing. Almost four years later, we can look back on all of that craziness,
and smile.
The wedding was perfection. The ring—to die for.
But the best part was always our love.
And then we met our baby girl. We named her Lola. She’s three now, and the absolute light of our
world. The reason I have stretch marks and gray hair, and laugh lines. She’s the meaning of life
tattooed on my skin, all over my home, inside my heart.
I told Mom I wanted to stick around in part to help with my younger siblings. Five toddlers and an
eight-year-old Buster are a lot of work. Then I got pregnant and I knew I had to stay close by.
I needed my mom. She needed me.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do after high school, so I didn’t go to college right away. No
regrets. It turns out life at home, raising Lola and loving on a super-sexy SWAT hero, is absolute
bliss.
Always crazy.
Often messy.
Sometimes scary—bliss.

Next up: Bradley & Hailee's story!

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stress must be laid on the contributions from classic authors. No
student can afford to neglect the histories, annals, poems, and
sacred books of the ancients, whether African, European, or Asiatic.
Professor J. L. Myres (1908) has pointed out that anthropological
investigations and speculations were already afoot in the fifth century
B.C. and before, and has outlined the ethnological problems
concerning man, his origin and relationships, and the questions
connected with his social life that interested and puzzled the ancient
Greek world. Not only Herodotus, but other writers, show that these
problems were thoroughly familiar to the Greeks. Long before
Herodotus, Hesiod refers to a standard scheme of archæology, in
which Ages of Gold, Silver, and Bronze succeed each other;
primitive man is described as a forest dweller growing no corn, but
subsisting on acorns and beech mast; Anaximander and Archelaus
have suggestions to solve the mystery of man’s origin, Anaximander
taking an “almost Darwinian outlook”[83] of the animal kingdom;
Æschylus distinguishes the tribes of men by culture, noting the
differences in their dress and equipments, religious observances and
language.
83. This statement is criticised by E. E. Sikes in Folk-Lore, xx., 1909, p. 424.
The chief value of the Greeks to the ethnologist is that they were
collectors of material. Some of their theories have been
substantiated, but they arrived at conclusions by deduction rather
than by induction.
Thus in many ways anthropology owes a deep debt of gratitude to
the classics. It was not until recently that this debt began to be
repaid.
Within the last twenty or thirty years there has been an increasing
recognition of the value of anthropological studies in the elucidation
of the classics; and this healthy movement is mainly associated with
the name of Professor William Ridgeway, of Cambridge, who
devoted his presidential address before the Royal Anthropological
Institute, in 1909, to this subject.
In 1887 Professor Ridgeway proceeded to apply the comparative
method to Greek coins and weights in a paper called the “Homeric
Talent: Its Origin and Affinities.”[84] He there tried to show that the
origin of coined money among the Lydians, and its evolution by the
Greeks and Italians, entirely accorded with the evolution of primitive
money from the use of objects such as axes, ornaments, cattle, and
so forth.
84. Hellenic Journal, VIII., p. 133; see also The Origin of Metallic Currency,
1892.

One of the relations of Ethnology to other branches of the

Humanities which hitherto has received scant acknowledgment is its
influence on the course of Political Science. Professor J. L. Myres
recently gave a brilliant address on this subject at Winnipeg, in which
he points out how Bodin (1530-1596), Edward Grimstone (1615),
Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679), John Locke (1632-1704),
Montesquieu (1689-1755), Rousseau (1712-1778), Voltaire (1694-
1778), Herder (1744-1803), and others, referred to or utilised the
accounts of natives by travellers to illustrate their theories of
statecraft.
 Chapter VIII.

THE HISTORY OF ARCHÆOLOGICAL DISCOVERY

Prehistoric Man. Dr. Johnson was not in advance of his time in

anthropological matters. While he was gibing at
Lord Monboddo for his belief in man’s simian affinities, he was also
making a pronouncement on the subject of prehistoric archæology
that later discoveries were soon to disprove. Up to his time history
was content to start from the earliest written documents,
supplemented, now and then, by the evidence of coins and
inscriptions; and Dr. Johnson summed up contemporary opinion in
his statement, “All that is really known of the ancient state of Britain
is contained in a few pages. We can know no more than what old
writers have told us.”
But it was not long before it was recognised that there was other
evidence besides that of the “old writers,” evidence the nature of
which has been well described by Sir W. R. Wilde:—
We possess what cannot be falsified by the scribe, and, although
styled prehistoric, they are far more truthfully historical than the writing
that no doubt was largely interfered with, and which, if old, now requires a
gloss to interpret it. The grassy mound or circle, the stones erected into a
cromleach, the great sepulchral mound, the cinerary urn, the stone
weapon or tool, the grain-rubber for triturating cereal food, the harpoon
for spearing fish, the copper and bronze tools and weapons, and the gold
ornaments of the most early tribes—all are now, in their way, far more
truthful than anything that could have been committed to writing, even if
 there were letters in that day. They are litanies in stone, dogmata in
metal, and sermons preaching from the grassy mound.[85]

85. Brit. Ass., Belfast, 1874.

Much of this evidence already existed, but even when rightly
interpreted it was for a long time ignored and scoffed at. It has been
noted in the life-history of a scientific truth, “People first say, ‘It is not
true,’ then that ‘It is contrary to religion,’ and lastly that ‘Everybody
knew it before.’” The first attitude of incredulity was to a great extent
justified by the doubtful character of the earlier finds, many of which
later investigation has had to reject or to hold in suspense as “not
proven.” The second stage was more serious, and for a long time the
new science was hampered by the accusation of irreligion. But
“Anthropology,” as Huxley pointed out, “has nothing to do with the
truth or falsehood of religion.” “Je suis naturaliste,” said Abbé
Bourgeois, “je ne fais pas de théologie.”
Gradually the accumulated evidence became too insistent to be
ignored. The work of various archæologists in Denmark, the
explorations of caves and lake dwellings in Britain and on the
Continent, and the patient labours of Boucher de Perthes in the
Somme Valley, all gave proof of the existence of prehistoric man,
and the science of prehistoric archæology was established.
Flint Long before this time, as far back as the
Implements. sixteenth century, flint implements had been
discovered in various parts, and proved as great a puzzle as the
fossils which perplexed and tried the faith of the earlier geologists.
The uncultured folk of Europe recognised that the chipped arrow-
heads which occasionally occur on the surface of the ground were
the implements of an alien people, as the names “elf darts” and “fairy
darts” imply. The country folk in the more backward districts believe
that fairies still exist; but better informed intelligent people believe
they are purely mythological, while students are aware that these
arrow-heads were the implements of earlier populations, who are
classed in folk-memory under the generic term of “fairies.”
Typical neolithic implements, such as stone adze and axe heads,
had attracted the attention of writers in the Middle Ages, such as
Gesner and Agricola, who, as Sir John Evans[86] informs us,
regarded them as thunder-bolts—a belief which is still widely spread
not only in Europe, but over the greater portion of the Old World. But
Mercati, physician to Clement VIII. at the end of the sixteenth
century, appears to have been the first to maintain that what were
regarded as thunderbolts were the arms of a primitive people
unacquainted with the use of bronze or iron. Certain later writers, as
de Boot (1636) and la Peyrère (1655), also regarded them as of
human workmanship. Buffon, too, in 1778, declared the “thunder-
stones” to be the work of primeval man.
86. Ancient Stone Implements, 1872; 2nd ed. 1897, chap. iii.
In 1797 John Frere found numerous flint implements at a depth of
about twelve feet in some clay pits at Hoxne, Suffolk, and referred
them to “a very remote period indeed, even beyond that of the
present world, and to a people who had not the use of metals.”[87]
87. Archæologia, xiii., p. 204.

But the discovery does not seem to have attracted any interest, or
raised any discussion; and the Hoxne implements lay unnoticed for
more than half a century, until Evans, returning from Amiens and
Abbeville in 1859, recognised the importance of the collections, and
by further excavations proved their antiquity.
The belief of the Middle Ages, that everything inexplicable was the
work of the Devil, was succeeded by an ascription of all objects of
unknown antiquity to the Druids or the Romans; but to neither of
these could be attributed the finds which were being made at the
beginning of the nineteenth century in the Danish kitchen-middens
and dolmens, in the Swiss lake dwellings, and in the caves and
gravels of Britain and of France. Still many years were to pass, and
many heated discussions were to be held, before archæology came
to be recognised as an ally of anthropology, and Prehistoric Man
obtained credence.
Denmark. In this new science Denmark took the lead. In
1806 a Commission was appointed to make a
scientific investigation into the history, natural history, and geology of
the country; and among the first problems to be met with were the
dolmens and shell-mounds, abounding in stone implements, which
found no period in Danish history capable of accommodating them.
History and the sagas were searched in vain. Meanwhile more and
more of these prehistoric implements were brought to light. A new
Commission was appointed, and the various sites were carefully
examined. The collection of Professor R. Nyerup formed, in 1810,
the nucleus which, in 1816, expanded into the Royal Danish
Museum of Antiquities at Copenhagen, now, as the National
Museum, lodged in the Princessen Palace. C. J. Thomsen held the
post of curator from 1816 to 1865. He ordered, arranged, and
classified the collections, dividing the objects according to their
epoch of culture, and setting them in chronological order,
establishing the sequence of the Stone, Bronze, and Iron Ages. This
was the first attempt to classify the archæological contents of a
museum on a chronological basis, and it was continued, elaborated,
and developed by his successor, Professor J. J. A. Worsaae, 1865 to
1885.[88]
88. The classification itself was not new; it had been adumbrated by many
writers. See Evans, 1872, pp. 3 ff.
Caves. Another class of evidence which was of great
importance in determining the pre-history of man
was that derived from the caves. The beginnings of cave-exploration
are described by Professor Boyd Dawkins:—
The dread of the supernatural, which preserved the European caves
from disturbance, was destroyed in the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries by the search after “ebur fossile,” or unicorn’s horn, which
ranked high in the materia medica of those days as a specific for many
diseases, and which was obtained, in great abundance, in the caverns of
the Hartz, and in those of Hungary and Franconia. As the true nature of
the drug gradually revealed itself, the German caves became famous for
the remains of the lions, hyænas, fossil elephants, and other strange
animals, which had been used for medicine.[89]

89. Cave Hunting, p. 11.

 These caves were investigated mainly by geologists or
palæontologists, searching for evidence as to the extinct animals
that formerly occupied them. Indications of the presence of man
were unsuspected, and, if found, disregarded. Thus much of the
evidence of man’s early history was doubtless unwittingly destroyed.
The Franconian caves were explored towards the end of the
eighteenth century, and described by Esper (1774), Rosenmüller
(1804), and Dr. Goldfuss (1810). The most famous of these was the
cave of Gailenreuth. Here, for the first time, investigations were
carried out systematically, the finds classified, and, since they
indicated the co-existence of man and extinct mammals, theories as
to their significance and derivation filled the air.
In 1861 William Buckland (1784-1856), Professor of Mineralogy at
Oxford (afterwards Dean of Westminster), visited the caves, and
kindled that interest in cave-exploration which was to produce such
remarkable results in England.
Oreston. In the same year the first bone-cave
systematically explored in the country was
discovered at Oreston, near Plymouth, and the deposits proved the
former existence of the rhinoceros in that region.
Kirkdale. More famous was the exploration of the Kirkdale
Cave, near Helmsley, in Yorkshire, discovered in
1821, in a limestone quarry, and investigated and described by Dr.
Buckland.[90] He found remains of the broken and gnawed bones of
the rhinoceros, mammoth, stag, bison, etc., which had been the prey
of the hyænas inhabiting the cave, and he traced their origin to a
universal deluge. Subsequently he examined the remains from other
caves, and summarised his conclusions in Reliquiæ Diluvianæ,
published in 1824. Dr. Buckland was henceforward the
acknowledged authority on bone caves and their contents, and to his
disbelief in the contemporaneous existence of man with the cave
animals may be traced much of the incredulity with which all
evidence of early man in Britain was received for more than a
generation.
90. Phil. Trans. Roy. Soc., 1882.
 So far but few traces of man’s presence in the caves had been
detected, and, when found, had generally been explained away as
later intrusions, though human occupations had been proved in
Franconia, in the French caves explored by MM. Tournai de Christol
and Marcel de Serres in the south of France in 1828, and later by the
discoveries of Dr. Schmerling in the caves of Liège about 1832.
Liège. From the forty caves examined Dr. Schmerling
found not only bones of extinct animals, but also a
few human bones, and a large number of bone and flint implements
and flakes, which he attributed to human workmanship.
Unfortunately, these discoveries were discredited both by Dr.
Buckland and Sir Charles Lyell, but have since been fully
substantiated by Dr. E. Dupont.[91]
91. Les Temps Antéhist. en Belgique, 1871.
Kent’s Cavern. The most important of all the cave explorations
in England is that of Kent’s Cavern, Torquay. This
cavern was known from time immemorial; but the first investigation
recorded was that of Mr. Northmore, of Cleeve, Exeter, who visited it
in 1824, in expectation of finding evidence of the worship of Mithras.
The next year he returned there again, accompanied by the Rev.
J. MacEnery, the Roman Catholic chaplain at Tor Abbey, whose
name will always be honourably connected with the explorations of
the cave. He was not a geologist or a palæontologist, but to him fell
the distinction of discovering the first flint implement ever found in
unmistakable association with remains of extinct animals. On
another occasion he visited the cave together with Mr. Northmore
and Dr. Buckland. “Nothing remarkable was discovered that day,
excepting the tooth of a rhinoceros and a flint blade. This was the
first instance of the occurrence of British relics being noticed in this
or, I believe, any other cave. Both these relics it was my good fortune
to find.”
He subsequently found many other flint implements, but Dr.
Buckland was not convinced that they occurred in an undisturbed
area. He believed that the ancient Britons had scooped out ovens in
the stalagmite, and that through them the flint implements had
reached their position in the cave earth. In 1846 the Torquay Natural
History Society appointed a committee of investigation, consisting of
Pengelly and two others, who confirmed MacEnery’s discovery of
flint implements in conjunction with extinct animals. Nevertheless,
their evidence was not accepted. In Pengelly’s words: “The scientific
world ... told us that our statements were impossible, and we simply
responded with the remark that we had not said they were possible,
only that they were true.”[92]
92. Kent’s Cavern, 1876. Lecture delivered at Glasgow (1875).
Lake Dwellings. Before chronicling the final triumph of the cave
explorers in 1859, we may briefly note another
series of investigations which was being carried on at the same time,
and which also shared in the work of throwing light on the shadowy
figure of prehistoric man. This was the excavation of crannogs and
lake dwellings.
Irish Crannogs. In 1839 Sir W. R. Wilde explored some of the
Irish crannogs, or semi-artificial islands, usually
made of layers of stone, logs, sticks (the so-called fascine
dwellings), resting on cluans or islets in the Irish lakes. The first
crannog explored was that at Lagore, famous in ancient times as
Loch Gobhair, near Dunshaughlin, co. Meath, and mentioned in the
Annals of the Four Masters as having been plundered in the ninth
and tenth centuries. It was originally discovered by accident. Some
labourers, when clearing out a stream in the neighbourhood, came
across very numerous bones, and also a vast collection of objects of
all descriptions, warlike and domestic, made of stone, bone, wood,
bronze, and iron, and a few human remains.
The next crannog to be disclosed was one in Roughan Lake, near
Dungannon; and thereafter more and more came to light, until in
1857 forty-six had been recorded.
The crannog finds, and the depth of the deposits, indicated great
age; and Sir William Wilde at once recognised their significance in
determining the history of early human occupation in the island. This
evidence was strengthened by the discoveries shortly afterwards
made in Switzerland.
Swiss Pile- These were also partly the result of an accident.
Dwellings. The winter of 1853-4 happened to be particularly
cold and dry, and in consequence tracts of the
shores of the Swiss lakes, which were normally covered by water,
stood bare and dry. The inhabitants of Ober Meilen, near Zürich,
took advantage of this to enclose part of the foreshore, building
walls, and filling the reclaimed space with mud. During the necessary
excavations various remains came to light, stumps of piles, stone
and horn implements, etc. Dr. Ferdinand Keller, President of the
Antiquarian Society at Zürich, hearing of these discoveries, hastened
to explore the newly-revealed area. Fishermen had long before
reported on the existence of a submerged forest, the stumps of
which caught their fishing nets and spoilt the fishing on the sloping
shores. In 1829, during excavations, some piles were found, but,
being attributed to the Romans, no further notice was taken of them.
Dr. Keller discovered that the “submerged forest” was in reality of
human origin, formed of sharpened and pointed piles, driven into the
ground at regular intervals, and he recognised here evidences of
prehistoric human occupation, corresponding with that recently
proved for Denmark. Pile dwellings were subsequently discovered in
the lakes of Biel, Sempach, Neufchatel, Geneva, and Wallenstad,
though investigations were only carried out in Biel and Zürich. These
yielded animal remains, numerous stone implements, pottery, a
skull, parts of several skeletons, and one piece of bronze.
At first the evidence was merely ignored, then it was listened to,
but discredited, or various ingenious explanations were made to
explain it away.
But gradually the accumulated evidence became too insistent to
be ignored, and was supported by too great names to be neglected.
The caves of the Mendips, explored by Williams and Beard, of North
and South Wales, explored by Stanley, of Yorkshire and of
Devonshire, the crannogs of Ireland and the pile dwellings of
Switzerland, all told the same tale.
Brixham. The turning point was reached in 1858. During
that year a new cave had been discovered while
excavating for building foundations at Brixham, on the shores of
Torbay, Mr. Pengelly persuaded the owner to grant him a refusal of
the lease of the virgin site, and it was submitted to a most careful
examination. Thirty-six rude flint implements were discovered in
association with the remains of hyænas, cave, brown and grizzly
bears, woolly rhinoceros and mammoth, in undisturbed red loam
beneath a layer of stalagmite.
This was conclusive evidence. A paper read by Mr. Pengelly at the
meeting of the British Association at Leeds, 1858, and supported by
such authorities as Charles Lyell, Ramsey, Prestwich,[93] Owen, and
others, clinched the argument, and the contemporary existence of
man with Pleistocene fauna was firmly established.
93. “It was not until I had myself witnessed the conditions under which these flint
implements had been found at Brixham that I became fully impressed with
the validity of the doubts thrown upon the previously prevailing opinions with
respect to such remains in caves.”—Prestwich, Phil. Trans. Roy. Soc., 1860.

It was not long before the same concession of the antiquity of man
was reached on the Continent.
Boucher de Boucher de Perthes, the son of a distinguished
Perthes. botanist, was early attracted to the work of cave-
exploration, and in 1805 and again in 1810 made discoveries of
animal bones and of flint implements which he recognised as the
work of man. Later on, when extensive excavations for fortifications
and railroads were being carried on at Abbeville, he found the same
type of implement in situ, and in 1838 submitted some of his
discoveries and deductions to the Society of Emulation of Abbeville,
of which he was president. The next year he brought the same
evidence to Paris and showed his flints to several members of the
Institute. In 1847 he published a description of his finds. In 1855
Rigollot,[94] by his finds at Amiens, had confirmed the evidence
produced by Boucher de Perthes.
94. Mémoire sur des Instruments en silex trouvés à St. Acheul près Amiens.
In 1858 Hugh Falconer, the palæontologist, visited Abbeville to
see the collection of implements made by Boucher de Perthes, and
“became satisfied that there was a great deal of fair presumptive
evidence in favour of many of his speculations regarding the remote
antiquity of these industrial objects, and their association with
animals now extinct.”[95] Acting on Falconer’s suggestion, numerous
geologists visited Abbeville in the following year, including Sir Joseph
Prestwich, Sir John Evans, and Sir Charles Lyell; and Arthur J.
Evans, then a boy accompanying his father, had the good fortune to
find one of the chipped flints in situ. This established the horizon of
the flints beyond question, though there were still some who
disputed the human workmanship. The English archæologists and
geologists however, had already been convinced by the evidence of
the Devonshire caves, and the acceptance of “palæolithic man” on
the Continent dates from their visit.
95. Palæont. Mem., ii., p. 597.
Subsequent Thenceforward archæology made greater
Progress of progress abroad than in Great Britain, mainly,
Archæology. perhaps, on account of the more numerous
materials for study.
France. To indicate the share that France has had and
maintains in the elucidation of Prehistoric
Anthropology, we have only to mention the work of É. Lartet with Mr.
Henry Christy on the French caves of Aurignac (1861) and Périgord
(1864); A. J. L. Bertrand and G. Bonstetten on dolmens (1864, 1865,
and 1879); É. Rivière on the Mentone caves (1873); and the
numerous works of E. Chantre, especially with regard to the Rhone
basin. These and others prepared the way for the classic work of G.
de Mortillet (1883), whose masterly summary and methodical
treatment of the subject have been of great service to all subsequent
workers. While recognising the labours of other investigators, special
mention must be made of Judge E. Piette (1827-1906), whose
excavations in the cave of Mas d’Azil constitute a landmark in such
studies. Professor E. Cartailhac, Dr. Capitan, and l’Abbé H. Breuil
have done further service in their investigations in French caves; and
the two latter, in their beautiful memoir on the cave of Altamira in
North Spain, have further demonstrated the wonderful artistic sense
and technique of the cave-dwellers during the later phases of
Palæolithic times.
 In Britain we may note the names of J. Barnard Davis, J. Thurnam,
Rolleston, Sir Charles Lyell, Sir John Evans, Canon Greenwell, and
Professor Boyd Dawkins, whose standard works have largely helped
to mould the course of archæology in our own country.
In Germany, among the earlier writers may be mentioned C.
Fuhlrott, L. Lindenschmidt (1864-1881), J. A. Ecker (1865-1870), A.
Lissauer, and, above all, Rudolf Virchow, the author of numerous
and valuable contributions.
Elsewhere, G. Nicolucci studied prehistoric man in Italy, and
during the last thirty years the investigations of the illustrious Dr.
Oskar Montelius, of Stockholm, have been valued by all
archæologists.
Tertiary Man. Boucher de Perthes was the vindicator of
Quaternary Man in France; l’Abbé Bourgeois
stands as the protagonist on behalf of Tertiary Man.
The first discovery of any traces of man’s existence during Tertiary
times was made in some sand and gravel quarries at Saint Prest,
near Chartres, by M. Desnoyers in 1863. He found various incised
bones bearing evidence of human workmanship, together with
remains of Elephas meridionalis and Rhinoceros leptorhinus. But Sir
Charles Lyell gave it as his opinion, on examining the beds, that they
were rather late Quaternary than true Tertiary.
The whole question was hotly debated at the Second Congress of
Archæology and Prehistoric Anthropology at Paris, in 1867, where
l’Abbé Bourgeois (1819-1878), Professor of Philosophy at Blois,
exhibited his famous flint implements from Miocene beds at Thenay,
near Tours, Loir-et-Cher. These were undoubtedly Miocene beds, but
it was open to doubt if the implements were of human origin, and, if
so, if they were found in undisturbed positions. At the Congrès
International d’Anthropologie at Brussels in 1872 a committee of
fifteen was formed to discuss the problem, and opinions were
divided. Nine authorities recognised human workmanship (one
changed his opinion later); four denied it; one was favourable, but
with reserve; and one was unable to decide at all. De Mortillet
believed that they had not been made by man himself, but by a
semi-human precursor of man, which he named Homosimius
Bourgeoisii.
Other finds of Tertiary man, those of the Upper Miocene, by C.
Ribeiro, at Otta, in the Tagus Valley, 1860; of Tardy in the same year,
and of Rames in 1877, in beds of the same horizon at Puy-courny,
Auvergne; of Capellini, in Pliocene beds of Monte Aperto, near
Siena, and of Fritz Noetling in lower Pliocene beds in Burma, 1894,
have none of them been received without question, and are still
classed by most authorities, as by Sir John Evans in 1870, and again
in 1897, as “Not proven.”
Eoliths. Closely connected with the question of Tertiary
Man is the “raging vortex of the eolith controversy,”
as Sollas describes it. Benjamin Harrison, of Ightham, Kent, first
drew attention to these rude chipped flints, which he found in the
chalk plateau, and claimed to be of pre-glacial age, and of human
origin. Prestwich accepted this view; Evans rejected it, and
anthropologists are still divided into opposite camps on the question.
Eoliths have since been discovered in various parts of the world, and
have merely served to confirm the respective points of view of the
partisans on either side.
Sollas, after summing up all the evidence, says: “When experts
are thus at variance nothing remains for the layman but to preserve
an open mind.” These discussions as to the existence of quaternary
and Tertiary man would have been settled once for all had actual
undoubted human bones been found in any of the beds, but this was
rarely the case, and disputants had to rely almost entirely on
questionable artifacts.
 Chapter IX.

TECHNOLOGY

The history of that branch of Ethnology which is concerned with the

handicrafts of man is very brief. Specimens of the arts and crafts of
various races had long been collected in museums, and till recent
years they were little more than curiosities or trophies; but, owing to
the inspiration of General Pitt-Rivers, they are now proofs of stages
in the evolution of human thought or handicraft, or links in a chain of
scientific argument indicating the migrations or contacts of peoples.
Pitt-Rivers. Augustus H. Lane-Fox (1827-1900) served with
distinction in the Crimea. In 1851 he began to
collect specimens to illustrate his views. This, it will be remembered,
was eight years before the publication of the Origin of Species. So
Lane-Fox was to all intents and purposes a pre-Darwinian
evolutionist. Few men have had the collecting instinct so strongly
developed, but there was invariably some principle or theory that the
objects he collected were designed to illustrate. The spoils of over
twenty years of intelligent collecting were exhibited in 1874 in the
Bethnal Green Museum. The collection was a revelation to students,
and was the first application of the theory of evolution to objects
made by man. Colonel Lane-Fox succeeded to vast estates in
Wiltshire and Dorsetshire in 1880, and assumed the name of Pitt-
Rivers. The following year he commenced the series of excavations
on his estate which are models of scientific “digging.” The Pitt-Rivers
Museum at Oxford, and that at Farnham in Dorsetshire, are fitting
monuments of his genius. The curator of the former museum, Mr. H.
Balfour, is ably carrying on the methods of Pitt-Rivers, and has made
valuable investigations on the evolution of musical and other
implements.
Otis T. Mason (1838-1908), of the United States National Museum,
paid particular attention to the implements and processes of the
technology of backward peoples, more especially of the aborigines
of North America; and he was also interested in the wider aspects of
human industrial development.
Pitt-Rivers was certainly one of the first to demonstrate that
patterns and designs may be studied from the point of view of
evolution; but he did not make any detailed studies in this direction.
The first systematic treatise in this fascinating field of investigation
was by Dr. H. Colley March, who, in The Meaning of Ornament
(1889),[96] utilised certain views put forward by Gottfried Semper in
his valuable book Der Stil (1860-1863); but for over a decade the
distinguished Swedish archæologist and ethnologist, Dr. Hjalmar
Stolpe (1841-1905), had been amassing data to illustrate the
evolution and distribution of ornamentation, and he published a
memoir on Polynesian art in 1890, which was followed by one on
American art in 1896. Dr. C. H. Read,[97] Mr. H. Balfour (1893),[98] and
others, worked on similar lines, and much valuable research in this
direction has also been accomplished by American and German
ethnologists.
96. Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire Ant. Soc., 1889.

97. Journ. Anth. Inst., xxi., 1891, p. 139.

98. Evolution of Dec. Art.

 Chapter X.

SOCIOLOGY AND RELIGION

Those branches of cultural anthropology which deal with

comparative sociology and magico-religious data are sometimes
designated as “ethnology.” It frequently happens that students who
have written upon these and closely allied subjects have in the same
book treated the archæological, technical, and linguistic aspects of
cultural anthropology or ethnology in the larger sense. It is therefore
impossible to keep to a precise classification of the subject when
dealing with it historically.
Comparative The main stumbling-block in the way of
Ethnology. comparative ethnology was the difficulty of
establishing the study on a firm scientific basis. “Man cannot be
secluded from disturbing influences, and watched, like the materials
of a chemical experiment in a laboratory.”[99] Ethnologists were
accused of basing their conclusions on the most fragile evidence,
collected from most untrustworthy sources:—
99. Lang, 1898, p. 39.

Anything you please ... you may find among your useful savages....
You have but to skim a few books of travel, pencil in hand, and pick out
what suits your case.... Your testimony is often derived from observers
ignorant of the language of the people whom they talk about, or who are
themselves prejudiced by one or other theory or bias. How can you
pretend to raise a science on such foundations, especially as the savage
informants wish to please or to mystify inquirers, or they answer at