Bayou Wolves Boxed Set

by Anne Marsh

  The Baton Rouge territory is up for grabs, and we both know it. Someone has to fill the power vacuum left behind by Z-Pain’s death. The Breed MC has almost forty wolf shifters in addition to a small army of human recruits who ride and fight on the Breed’s authority. We took down Bear Dog, the Breed’s second-in-command, after he ordered the hit on Gianna.

  “You think Jace wants that pack?”

  I honestly don’t know. “It’s a possibility.”

  “Could help,” Luc suggests. “Get the MC under control and off Gianna’s back. That would be a good thing.”

  It would be. Luc looks at me, and there’s no mistaking the message burning in his eyes.

  “No one touches our woman,” I say.

  “Fucking right,” he agrees and then the fucker steps onto my front porch, reaching for the door as if it’s all his. My territory, my place, my woman.

  GIANNA

  The front door explodes open in a tangle of wolves and teeth. For a long minute I have no idea who or what I’m looking at, and then Cruz is snarling orders and Luc—Luc is here—is barking curses, and the two wolves who must have been guarding me as ordered back the fuck away.

  Luc takes a step toward me.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Cruz snaps.

  Of course Luc doesn’t stop. When has he ever? Instead he strides rapidly across the room, closing up the empty space between us, and grabbing me into his arms.

  Nothing about this visit has gone as I imagined. Cruz working. The animosity between my two lovers. Jace’s gruesome injuries. Everything is wrong… No, that’s not true, either. Making love with Cruz has been amazing. He’s a fantastic lover, and if I hadn’t met Luc first, I’d have been singing the long-term commitment song with him. I need to remember that.

  But Luc folds his arms around me, pulling my cheek against his bare chest. He’s mostly naked, which tells me he shifted recently. Mostly naked—and blood-streaked.

  Oh. God. The wolf fight. Jace bleeding, and Cruz heading out to “take care of business” which is poorly worded code for “kill whoever had trespassed on his territory.” And now here he is, with Luc.

  “Are you both okay?” My eyes search out Cruz, examining him for damage.

  Cruz takes another step forward, clearly unconcerned about the state of Luc’s health. “He goes.”

  And just like that my mood heads south. “He stays,” I snap.

  “He has opinions of his own.” The corner of Luc’s mouth curls up, revealing a sharp canine.

  I pull free of Luc’s arms and step carefully away. Luc seems relatively undamaged—a few scratches and the shadow of a new bruise along his ribs. Unlike Jace, he’s not bleeding heavily. Cruz, too, seems relatively unscathed.

  “What happened out there?” I ask, and for a moment, I think they might not tell me. That they’re actually going to close ranks and find common ground in managing my life for me.

  “An ambush,” Cruz says at last.

  “The Breed?” They seem the likeliest suspects. And sure enough Cruz nods. “Twelve wolves.”

  “They’ve got some new openings in the Baton Rouge pack,” Luc drawls.

  He’s telling me that they’ve killed wolves tonight. Wolves who become men and who’ve lost their chance to defend themselves in a courtroom. Not good! My brain screams, but part of me is shockingly, horrifyingly okay with their vigilante justice. If those twelve wolves had made it down the road, I could be dead and the feeling of safety that surrounds me is blissfully, wonderfully welcome.

  Even if it does come at a price.

  “This is my week,” Cruz snarls, prowling closer to me and making his position perfectly clear. The threat posed by the wolves is over, and he’s one hundred percent focused on what he perceives as the newest threat to my safety.

  Luc.

  Who drops a kiss on my forehead. “He’s not into sharin’, boo.”

  “Out,” Cruz snarls, and for a long minute I’m not sure if Luc knows what he’s decided to do. But then he nods and heads for the door.

  “I’ll see what else I can learn about the ambush,” he says. “You keep our Gianna safe.”

  That word our—it’s like a red flag to a bull. Cruz lunges, but Luc is already gone, the door slamming softly closed behind him. Cruz’s arms close around me, and he swings me up into his arms. He heads for the stairs and our bed.

  “I’m gonna be enough,” he snarls and right now, he is. That’s true. The problem is—and always has been—that we have to get out of bed sometime.

  GIANNA

  The dream starts off so good. Wrapped up in the quilts in Luc’s bayou cabin, I snuggle deep in the bed, listening as rain tap-dances on the tin roof, singing the kind of song that makes me want to smile and belt out country tunes. In the dream, I’m not alone, and as dreams so often go, things are absolutely fucking perfect. Awake, I’d assume the good-news vibe means bad things lurk right around the corner, but the dream me simply digs her butt deeper into the mattress and enjoys the moment.

  The three of us are tangled up in the sheets together. My head rests on Cruz’s chest, and Luc spoons me from behind. Their arms are wrapped around each other, and I can’t tell where one starts and the other ends. That’s part of the perfect thing. The musky scent of sex hangs in the air. I’m boneless and the best kind of sore because my wolves rode me hard and loved me well.

  I’m dreaming and I know it. Somehow, that’s okay. I don’t particularly want to wake up, so dream me runs her hands over the nearest male chest and…

  I wake up.

  I’m alone in Cruz’s bed. Our bed. When I pat his side of the bed, the sheets are still warm, so I roll over and take his spot. I’d like it if he came back and we picked up where we left off last night when I finally fell asleep because we’d worn each other out and I couldn’t keep my eyes open another moment, not least because we weren’t getting anywhere on the talking front and the sex had been so good he’d about killed me.

  My vagina is deliciously sore, and my butt muscles ache from all the preorgasmic clenching. Lifting the sheet, I take inventory. Running my hands down over my breasts and my stomach, I trace the faint red marks from Cruz’s five o’clock scruff. He left marks on my thighs too, as if he’d tattooed himself on my body, inside and out, and when I sift a finger through the hair on my pussy and into my folds, I’m still wet and slick.

  Bringing my fingers to my nose, I inhale Cruz’s scent on my fingers.

  “That’s a real pretty sight,” Cruz drawls from the door.

  Oh. God. Busted. I shoot upright in the bed, the sheet falling to my waist. My naked waist.

  He pads across the room and crouches down beside the bed so his face is level with mine. Dropping a kiss on my nose, he grins. “Good morning, boo. Someone’s feelin’ naughty.”

  Deflect. “Is that for me?” I point toward the mug in his hand. “Gimme. I could kiss you.”

  He hands over the mug with another lethal smile. “I can work with that.”

  I’ll bet he can. Cruz is insatiable when he gets started. I take the first sip, closing my eyes as the rich coffee hits my tongue. He’s fixed it just right, with enough sugar and cream for a small army.

  “Do you have a minute?” I roll over, sitting up in bed. Last night’s wolf attack is seared into my brain, as is Cruz’s confrontation with Luc. The sex may be amazing, but nothing else is right in paradise and we need to talk about it. Cruz is bare-chested, and I shamelessly enjoy the show. But he’s more than a gorgeous ass, and it’s not fair to him, whatever it is that’s happening between Luc and me.

  “What’s up?” He keeps his eyes on mine, but surely he should have some idea of what’s coming, shouldn’t he? Or does he really believe that kicking Luc out followed by last night’s sex marathon has resolved all our relationship issues and we’re now on the smooth path to monogamous happily-ever-after?

  I guess I get to be the one to puncture that morning-after glow.

  “We need to talk,” I say, leading with t
he age-old cliché because it’s the truth. We absolutely do need to get some words out there in the open. This idea I’d insisted on, that the three of us could somehow forge a relationship together? Yeah. It’s so not working. I feel like the rope in a game of lupine tug-of-war. “How am I supposed to make this thing work?”

  “The three of us?” He gets straight to the point.

  “I’d hoped we would settled this last night.” I set my coffee down. God. Werewolves are still men at heart. “We didn’t do much talking last night.”

  Nope. We’d had sex. Angry sex, hot sex, and then, at the end, damned kinky sex. What we didn’t have was a conversation.

  He grins. “Actions bein’ louder than words, I’m not complainin’.”

  “You made promises. You said you would try a threesome with Luc and I.”

  He curses, but he sure doesn’t look remorseful. “I didn’t make guarantees, shug. What’s Luc got that I don’?”

  “You want a point by point comparison?”

  He gives me a look. “I’m lackin’ that much?”

  It’s not a question of what he’s not, but I don’t know how to convince him of that. This isn’t a competition and I’m not comparing one man to the other. This is about complements, and making a whole.

  “Second best,” he growls. “I’m second best in your mind. I wan’ to be first. First now, tonight, and for the rest of our lives. I wan’ to be the one who gives you what you need. Marry me.”

  He’s thinking or and I’m holding out for and. Both of us are about to be disappointed.

  “You don’t have to jealous of Luc,” I say carefully, trying to feel my way. Cruz shakes his head.

  “For every memory he’s made with you, I wan’ to make one, too. Touch you where he touched you. Love you more.”

  More. Cruz insists on comparing himself with Luc, and I get the feeling Luc may very well be doing the same thing. I think in terms of complements; they insist on comparisons.

  CRUZ

  Inviting Gianna here wasn’t a simple thing. I’d had pack politics to deal with, both mine and Luc’s. I took a chance. I introduced her to my family as the woman I’ve asked to stand by my side. I’d happily buy her a ring, stand her up in front of a minister, and give her the words too—but she’s already given those things to Luc. So, yeah, I feel as if I’m the consolation prize, the third wheel in her fairytale happily ever after with the other Alpha.

  And I don’t fucking like it. Not one bit.

  When she shoves out of bed, I follow her. Not that she’s gone far—she’s standing just inside my walk-in closet, grabbing clothes from her suitcase. When I come up behind her, she whirls and glares at me. Definitely pissed off. Still, when she drops her gaze down my body, my dick immediately gets hard. My wolf thinks angry sex would be just dandy—my furry half is all kiss and make up. Fuck.

  “Looks like you don’t mind being my booty call,” she says coolly.

  I do mind. It’s hard to be valued for my dick when I want to be her man. I offered her everything—my heart and my soul—and she’s turning me down. There’s no other way to put it.

  “Gianna.” After her name, I have no idea what to say next. How I fix this and make things right between us again. Her hair is tangled, and she has pretty pink marks from my stubble on her breasts and her stomach. Mine. That’s all I can think, because I inhale and the scent of our sex hits me hard, the way our scents mingle on and in her body driving me wild. It’s the sexiest thing ever—and she sure looks as if she’s leaving me.

  Ignoring the werewolf trapping her in the closet, she rearranges a few more things in her suitcase and zips the lid closed with a vengeance. The lid makes a soft thwap that can’t possibly be satisfying.

  “You wan’ to slam things around, I’d start with the door.”

  The pink flush on her cheeks gets brighter as her eyes narrow. She doesn’t need a power suit and four-inch heels to own the room. I fucking well feel as if I’m standing in a courtroom and she’s judge, jury, and opposing counsel rolled into one.

  “You’re right,” she says.

  I am? I don’t need my wolf to smell a trap. “Boo—”

  “Don’t you boo me. I thought we were working out a relationship.”

  “Me too.” I’m officially ass-deep in landmine territory.

  “The three of us,” she continues, talking right over my admission. “I should have known there was a problem when you said you wanted a week alone, but getting to know you better seemed like it would be easier if it was just the two of us. I didn’t think you wanted to cut Luc out of our relationship altogether. That last night in the bayou, you said you wanted the three of us to find some way to make this work.”

  Fuck. I had. Right up until I hadn’t.

  GIANNA

  “I didn’t think you’d really want a threesome for keeps.” He grabs a T-shirt and pulls it over his head with strong, sure fingers. We could be discussing the grocery list or the electric bill, he’s so calm and laid back. Just once, I’d like to get a rise out of him, force him to react.

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s not how most humans date. You all like to have one at a time. And because you called it off the next morning. That second reason being the most important one.”

  Okay. He’s got me there.

  “I got cold feet, but I want this. I want the two of you for keeps. And since when are we playing by human rules? I thought you guys did things your way.”

  He nods slowly. “You’re right there, Gianna.”

  I have no idea what he’s agreeing to, or what I really just said, but the light in his eyes warns me that I’m in plenty of trouble.

  “I’m a wolf,” he says, as if I could ever forget.

  “I know.” I hate the breathless note I hear in my voice. He turns me on, gets me going, and we both know it. I’m not used to feeling this out of control of my body.

  “I’m going to mark you. Make sure every wolf can scent me on your pretty skin.” He presses his mouth against my throat and heat sears through me. “Anything goes, but we like it dirty.”

  There’s so much more to life than sex, and yet… it consumes me right now.

  “Give me the chance,” he whispers against my skin, and I’m powerless to hold out .To say no, or to insist that he honor what I believed were the original terms of our bargain. He’s my Cruz and, as much as he infuriates me, he also makes me want to hold him close.

  So there’s only really one answer I can give him.

  “Gianna?” He makes my name into a kiss, drawing the syllables out into a caress.

  “Yes,” I answer, melting back into his arms. I’m just conceding the battle, I tell myself. Not the war, not the fight for the three of us. I let him scoop me up in his arms and carry me back to the bed, because things are easier there. He just holds me though, rubbing a hand over my back as if he’s lost in thoughts of his own. I don’t think he’s remembering Luc though, not the way I do. Eventually, I have to break the silence.

  “Do we have plans for today?” Feeling shy is silly. He turned me inside out last night, and I loved every minute of it. Plus if I don’t meet my wolf head on, he’ll decide he’s the boss of me. That might be fun in bed, but out of bed… not so much.

  “I can think of a few things.”

  I’ll bet he can.

  “You know how to shoot?” he continues, as if he hasn’t just got my girly bits all excited.

  “You want to go hunting?” Because I’d vote to stay in bed instead.

  He tugs lightly on my hair. “Not exactly. I wan’ to know that if the Breed ever surprises you, if they make it up that road another time, and I’m not here, you know how to shoot their asses.”

  I set my mug on the bedside table. “Off the record?”

  “Sure.” He grins. “I’ll refrain from arresting your ass just this once if you’ve been a bad girl.”

  I stick out my tongue at him. As if I’d admit to my big bad sheriff that I’ve shot more
than one illegal gun growing up.

  “I’ve got a better use for your tongue. Scoot.” He nudges my hip with a hand, and I move over so he can sprawl beside me, denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him. He hasn’t bothered with shoes or socks, which is strangely sexy. His bare feet are as strong and sun-bronzed as the rest of him.

  “I’ve shot a time or two.” My father owned a gun, and he hadn’t been the only one. I’d grown up in some rough neighborhoods. I definitely advocate gun safety—but also understand why someone might feel better knowing that if and when trouble kicked in a window or door and stood in the middle of the living room demanding cash, self-defense was a viable option.

  He nods. “I thought we could go out and get some target practice. That way, if there’s a problem and I’m not around, you’ve got things.”

  “I’ve got things anyhow.” His insistence on taking care of me is… bemusing. Strange. Not in an unpleasant way, but I’ve been taking care of myself since I was twelve. I know when to ask for help if and when things exceed my capacity, but even then I’m the one doing the asking.

  He’s telling.

  “I know you do, but I’m here to help.”

  I give him a look. He doesn’t need to do that. I have this covered.

  CRUZ

  I head downstairs, leaving Gianna alone to get ready. She likes her space, and while taking her back to bed seems like the best idea, she has to be sore. Last night was amazing, but I damned sure hadn’t been slow or gentle. She met me more than halfway though.

  Plus she has me pretty much wrapped around her fingers. I’d like to believe that I’ll always be here to stand between her and danger, but sometimes life springs surprises. I definitely don’t want her getting hurt if there’s something I can do to prevent it, so the shooting lesson is insurance.

  When she finally comes downstairs, ready to go, her hair is slicked back in a tight braid that emphasizes the fine bones of her face and the violet shadows under her eyes. I haven’t let her sleep much.

  “Are we going to a shooting range?” She keeps up with me effortlessly when I lead the way outside even though my legs are twice the length of hers. Her black yoga pants hug her ass, inviting me to hook a finger in the waistband and tug. I’m also pretty sure she flashed me a lacy thong when she bent over to tie her sneakers.