Bayou Wolves Boxed Set

by Anne Marsh

  “Okay,” she says and then makes the mistake of trying to duck under my arm. Catching her is simple. All I have to do is lean in, pin her between the goddamned pergola and my body. Her eyes widen as she gets the message pressing against the front of my pants.

  “You’re not going anywhere. Not yet.”

  “You want to have sex now?” I love the way she jumps straight to the end game. The way she says whatever she has on her mind. She doesn’t pull her punches or play coy. She’s more of a fuck me harder girl than kiss me coy.

  “That wasn’t a no.” I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face.

  “Not here.” Gianna slaps her hands against my shoulders, her nails biting hard into my cotton T-shirt. Marking me as hers with each red crescent she carves. The small brand isn’t enough. Not for me. I want to tattoo her on my skin, wear her close every minute of my goddamned day.

  Hell. She’s gotten under my skin just fine—why not let her mark up the outside some too?

  “Don’ challenge me, shug.” The public nature of the place makes her nervous, but beneath the nerves I scent arousal. She loves these games we play together, craves the darker thrill of exposure. My Gianna plays by the rules—all of the rules. Rules are something I understand all too well. As pack Alpha, I keep my pack’s laws and I keep my wolves safe. I fight for them, watch out for them until the responsibility threatens to suck me down whole.

  And I wouldn’t trade a fucking moment of my time with the pack any more than I’d give up this woman.

  “You hold this for me, oui?” I fist her skirt. The stiff cotton is one of those girly colors that has so many names. Pink works for me. The fabric cotton has been ironed into precise creases. Gianna is always so careful not to wrinkle—I’m helping her out really. Not that she’s going to see it that way. I hide my grin against her thigh.

  Her panties, though…

  “That’s downright pretty.” Her panties are pink to match her dress, the mesh panels so sheer I can see her skin through it and the little mole above her hipbone I love so much. And—added bonus—the patch of flowers embroidered over the crotch hides my favorite place. I run a knuckle gently over the center, and she pushes into my hand.

  “The bra matches.” Her words are pure challenge.

  “I’ll be findin’ that out for myself,” I growl.

  She pushes away from me. “I don’t have to have this.”

  She damned well does, if it’s the only thing she’ll take from me. I have a primitive urge to mark her as mine that her interest in Cruz only stokes. I’m not letting her go without a fight, not now that I have her on my turf. Cruz can fight me for a shot at Gianna, but Cruz isn’t the Alpha here. He runs his own territory in Port Leon.

  I rub my thumb over her clit. “Come for me.”

  She glares. Too bad for her. She let me in her panties, and then she challenged me.

  “Seven nights.” She makes a show of looking around. “It sure looks like afternoon to me.”

  “Sue me. I’m cheatin’.” I work my fingers into the mesh. She’s wet as hell, so she likes our games just fine. I run my thumb down her slick crease. Then my finger. Do it again because I love the way her lashes drift down and she chews on her lower lip as she tries to hold back those sexy little whimpers.

  One quick, hard tug, and her panties hit the ground.

  “More,” I demand, working my fingers into her pussy. She arches up to meet me with a groan, stepping out of her panties and hooking a leg around my waist. I take her on a hell of a ride, touching and rotating, working my fingers into her in deep, luscious circles until she’s panting and riding the edge. One hard squeeze of her clit and she spasms, coming against my fingers in fierce ripples. Eyes squeezed shut, face pressed against my shoulder, her nails digging permanent gouges into my flesh. She’s fucking gorgeous.

  “Just wait until it’s dark,” I promise, giving her ear a short nip as she relaxes into my hold.

  She gives me a look I can’t interpret and walks away, her ridiculous little heels sinking into the ground. She doesn’t look back.

  Nope. My little mate gets the hell out of here, but I bet she’s checking the time when she gets back to the reception and her phone. Tucking her panties into my pocket, I stroll after her.

  I can show her a hell of a lot in seven nights.

  CRUZ

  Gianna comes strolling across the lawn toward me. She walks sweetly casual, her hips doing a roll and sway that makes me want to chase her down and kiss her. Her pink dress clings to her breasts and her ass. She’s magnificent, beautiful as hell inside and out, but she’s rumpled. Messed up more than a little. The fabric below her waist sports sharp creases like someone has crushed her skirt beneath his fingers, and there’s no missing the grass stain on her back when she turns to greet someone.

  I’m almost certain she’s not wearing panties anymore.

  The closer she gets, the more I smell Luc on her. Not the male’s seed, but something more pervasive, like he’s touched her skin, pressed his own against hers over and over. Shit. The other Alpha has staked his claim on her in the most primitive way possible. I think about that while I wait for her to come to me. I still want her, and this isn’t about the sex. Gianna’s a beautiful woman, but I can find that with someone else if I look. Gianna herself is the prize, the reason to play this game. I have a bad feeling she’s unique, my one and only, and I’m betting she’s just come all over my competition’s tongue.

  “Hey,” she says, gliding to a halt in front of me. Her eyes flicker down. Right. I have my arms crossed over my chest while I lean back in the beribboned rental chair Riley decided matched her wedding theme. I probably don’t look too friendly. I force my body to relax. I don’t want to run her off.

  I want to hold her.

  Take her.

  Win her.

  “Hey yourself,” I say. My voice sounds gruff, as if I haven’t done the small talk thing at all while she’s been off getting to know Luc a whole lot better. Don’t think about it.

  “Luc and I had some things to talk about.”

  I don’t want to hear about talking either, so I gently tug her down into the empty seat beside me. I like having her that close, my knee brushing against her leg, because I won’t pull back any farther. Crowding her some, reminding her that I’m here. I’d prefer to park her sweet little butt on my lap, but I’ve already pushed my luck today by bringing Luc’s mate to the wedding as my own fucking date. Riley will kill me if Luc and I fight in the middle of her reception, and I’d deserve it. Riley has planned this afternoon for months. Violence can keep until tomorrow.

  “You get everythin’ settled?”

  I have to know if I still have a chance. It’s late afternoon, the time of day when the light takes on a gold tinge as the sun thinks about packing it in for the day. The color painting Gianna’s cheeks is a really pretty pink, however, that has nothing to do with the time or the weather. Right. Because it’s awkward telling your date that you’ve just snuck away for a quickie with someone else. I wait patiently. She’ll tell me or she won’t, and then I’ll know where I stand.

  “Luc wants me to give our relationship a chance.”

  Usually I’d be all rah-rah supportive. No matter how much I play the field or enjoy women, I believe in the mating bond and settling down with the one perfect someone. My pack doesn’t have this blue moon dating service bullshit that Luc’s pack does, but that doesn’t make our feelings any less intense or valid. So I stretch my legs out a little more, brushing against her bare legs. She jumps, but doesn’t move away. Victory. Maybe this thing with Luc and her is only sex.

  “Commitment is important,” I say, because fuck me if I have a script for this and I need to add some words to the silence.

  She nods enthusiastically but then makes a face. “We might have been almost married for ten years, but right now it feels more like ten hours.”

  I’m more interested in the past ten minutes.

  “But you’re
going to give him his chance.”

  “It’s only fair.” Her blush deepens. “He asked for a week and I agreed. I don’t know what I want, but he and I made promises to each other, even if we didn’t think them through, and we need to work it out. Is that a problem?”

  The unspoken for us has my damned wolf whining in happy agreement. I can probably come to terms with sharing her body for the moment. It’s her heart I want one hundred percent.

  I shook my head. “Hell if I know, but it won’ make anythin’ easy.”

  “You boys don’t do easy.” She flashes me a smile that makes my insides melt into a puddle of happy.

  I figure my slow grin is answer enough. “True.”

  The wedding winds down around us, the caterers moving in to break down the tents. As we gather round to see the happy couple off, Riley shifts. One moment she’s the bride in white, and the next moment a small fox streaks over the bayou banks. Dag changes too, tearing after her while everyone cheers.

  “Your sister is a shifter.” Gianna’s words come out part statement, part sigh.

  “You didn’t know about that? Luc brought you here. We all assumed that meant you knew.” Tread carefully.

  “I knew he was a wolf,” she says grimly. “Not that the place was a menagerie. I’m spending the next week with Luc,” she reminds me, blurting the words out as if she’s tried to work her way up to them and then given up on finesse.

  I bet Luc has every intention of using his week to convince her to make their relationship permanent. It’s what I’d do.

  “I can’t be getting’ in the middle of that.” But I want to. The words tumble out of my mouth before I can apply the verbal brake. “You goin’ to give me the next week?”

  The way her face turns scarlet is so cute. Maybe it’s a human thing, being embarrassed at the possibility of having sex with two guys. It’s different for me. The sex is important, sure, but the emotions that go with it were key. At the end of the day, sex is just a case of body parts getting along and having a real good time. Apparently I can accept Luc in her bed as long as I’m the one she holds in her heart.

  “Please,” I add roughly. “You give him a chance, you give me a chance. Then you do any deciding you need to do.”

  Her short, jerky nod surprises the hell out of me. Holy mother of… she agreed.

  “Is that a promise?” Pushing your luck, wolf man.

  “Yeah.” She stares at me, surprise painted all over her face. “It is.”

  It’s no fucking shock that Luc picks this moment to intrude, striding over to us with an unmistakable note of possession in his eyes.

  “Time for us to go,” he announces.

  Luc drops his hands onto Gianna’s shoulders in a clear message. I watch carefully. I don’t think the other male would hurt Gianna, but mating bond or no mating bond, I’m not letting her go until I’m damned sure she’s safe. As if he doesn’t care about his rival’s presence, Luc strokes her collarbone and the sensitive hollows there. Nothing hurtful. Shit, no. Luc has it as bad for Gianna as I do, and that just leaves the situation more fucked up than ever. When Gianna chooses between us, there’s every chance war breaks out between the packs.

  “It’s not night yet,” she says, and I catch the warning there, although I don’t know what the hell the two of them are talking about because they’re continuing a private conversation. Yeah. I’m not that much of a dumb shit. The two of them have an inside thing going on.

  “Sun’s down soon,” Luc counters, following his words with more fingertip action. Gianna melts against him, and I discover that defeat is a hollow, achy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Still, she promised me a week. That’s something right there. She hasn’t chosen yet.

  I stand up. Choice or no choice, watching Luc touch Gianna isn’t something I can deal with right now. “Take care of her.”

  “I will.” Luc’s no-bullshit gaze holds mine. His two words sound too much like the wedding vows Riley and Dag traded earlier in the day.

  Luc can fuck off.

  I drop a kiss on Gianna’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a week.”

  LUC

  It’s no surprise I’m a possessive bastard. I’d give myself a fucking medal for reining myself in, but who Gianna sleeps with isn’t my call. She hasn’t given me that right, and it’s not something I can take.

  “I’ll take you home,” I say. I left my boat tied up down at the water’s edge. Once I get her deep in the bayou, I can coax her into paying attention to me. Remind her one kiss at a time why I’m not such a bad bargain. She’s agreed to a week, so it’s not kidnapping. Just… persuasion.

  She’s not stupid. “Define home.”

  “My place.” I tuck her small hand into mine.

  She digs in her heels, all four sexy inches of them. “And all of my things are back at the B&B. I’d rather go there.”

  The inn may not be the safest place for her. Cruz will watch like a hawk—the inn lies in the heart of his territory—but the place is also the logical hidey-hole for any guest staying in Port Leon. If Breed members follow her from Baton Rouge, the inn will be first on their hit list.

  “Hell, shug. I don’ know if that place is safe or not.”

  The Breed are not known for their progressive stance on women’s rights—or a fundamental belief in fair play. The gang members play hard, and they play for keeps. A male earns his place in that pack with his fists and his teeth. For a female, the only option is on her back, and even still, most of them are pass-arounds who are shared rather than loved exclusively.

  She eyeballs me calmly, but she starts moving again. “I’m a lawyer. I’m not an innocent flower. If there’s danger, tell me.”

  “Got it.” She’s mine to protect though, and I won’t fuck this up the way I did the past ten years. She’s not done reading me the riot act however.

  “I’m not stupid. I don’t have my head in the sand. You tell me to my face that you believe there is a credible threat to my safety if I return to the inn, and I’ll listen. I came down here because my partners believed getting out of Baton Rouge temporarily was a good idea. If it wasn’t enough, then give me the facts.”

  I hand her down into the boat. The boat is stripped down and built for speed, light enough to skim over the swamp. I needed to ride the open water today and not the road. Now I’m glad. The bayou waterways are safer for Gianna than the roads.

  “I’m the Alpha of the Breauxs. Cruz, he’s the Alpha of the Port Leon pack.”

  “So I’ve been told on multiple occasions.” Her lips curl up in a saucy smile, all but begging for a kiss. I can do that. Leaning in, I kiss her hard and quick.

  “Coming down here would usually qualify as dropping off the radar, but the biker gang isn’t human. Not entirely and definitely not the leadership.”

  “They’re werewolves,” she says.

  They’re definitely that. I start the boat and point us toward the darkness.

  “I’ll send someone for your things,” I compromise.

  “Telling, not talking.” She stares out into the bayou, avoiding my gaze. Birds rise up as the boat moves away from the bank, the bullfrogs singing a bass song. The bayou is peaceful and quiet, shadows wrapping the water and cypress trees.

  “Those werewolves will look for you with the other packs first, especially once Cruz’s name hits the paperwork.”

  “Okay, then.” She kicks off her heels with a blissed-out sigh and tucks her legs up beneath her.

  “Do you trust me?” I need her to say it.

  She sighs. “For seven more nights.”

  GIANNA

  The sky darkens overhead, stars appearing as the swamp comes alive around us. Herons rise up out of the reeds, wings beating through the air, racing the frigate birds for the horizon. A fish jumps out of the water, a silver flash here and then gone.

  “You mind the dark?” Luc steers effortlessly, hands on the wheel, bracing his legs against the water’s gentle bump and swell. Shirt off, pants rolled up, he�
��s barefoot, and God help me but the man even has sexy feet. He exudes strength and confidence as he guides us deeper into the bayou. This is his territory. His home. I’m the outsider here.

  He must interpret the shrug I give him in lieu of answer as a negative, because he steps away from the wheel momentarily and snags a lantern, lighting the wick with a quick flick of his fingers.

  “Company for you,” is all he says as he sets it down beside me.

  “Are we almost there?” A gator roars somewhere too close by for comfort, the harsh bark echoing off the cypress trees. The dark surface of the water ripples away from my pool of light in a spreading vee. That’s company I don’t want.

  He returns his attention to the water. “Fifteen minutes.”

  The lantern’s light reflects across the dark water in crooked stretches. A gator bobs up nearby in the brown water, yellow eyes gleaming as it watches me. I’m glad not to be swimming—or dinner. The rough wooden seat beneath me is a welcome anchor.

  The moon rises above the bayou, full and white.

  Luc flicks a glance up at the moon and then over at me. “Moon’s a full one.”

  Something teases my memory, a quick flash of our Vegas night and then nothing. Whatever it was, the thought is lost once more in my subconscious and must not be important.

  The Breauxs’ camp rises up out of the swamp in front of us. Deep in the bayou, the brothers have a collection of cabins on stilts and houseboats. Crickets explode in bursts of sound as we motor through a curtain of spanish moss. I check my phone—zero bars—and discover our silent boat ride through the swamp has taken almost forty minutes. Hotfooting it back to the B&B is an impossibility.

  Luc guides us past the spongy banks, thick curtains of moss parting around the boat’s prow. A snake slides off a low-hanging branch and into the water where roots break the dark surface. Thick clumps of spiky reeds brush against the boat’s side, and when I reach out a hand, I touch duckweed and water hyacinth.