Rescuing Their Virgin Mate[Pack Wars-Book 3]

by Day, Vella

  Her knees weakened at the news. Horror and relief collided. Elena refused to consider what being bought entailed, nor could she guess which man had purchased her. She hoped her new owner was one of the nice ones.

  As she stepped out of the room, she caught sight of the two beautiful men who’d promised her freedom. No other man who’d visited her was in the hallway. Hope soared. Despite her attempt to calm her nerves, her body vibrated. The tall one with the vibrant blue eyes shook hands with the same well-dressed man who’d come to the warehouse. Did that mean she was theirs? Once he learned she wasn’t some whore, he might be willing to let her go. If he did, she’d pay him back every penny he paid.

  Both of the men walked toward her, but their gaze flicked to the guards more often than to her. Uh, oh. Did someone else claim her? Please don’t walk by.

  Mr. Blue Eyes stopped in front of her and lightly clasped her arm. “Maria. Please come with us. Do you have a suitcase or anything?”

  “No, sir.”

  He nodded and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist, almost as if he thought she’d run away. His warmth shimmied up her spine, and she leaned closer. At the end of the hallway, he pushed open an exit door, and when she stepped into the fresh air, she let out a big breath.

  Believing there were cameras everywhere, she held her tongue and didn’t thank them.

  “Keep your gaze down and pretend to struggle. Cameras are everywhere.”

  That wasn’t what she expected him to say. Even though she didn’t understand the reason for his command, she did as he asked and tugged to get out of the man’s grasp. He let her go and she fled—right into the stockier man’s chest.

  He held her tight. “Whoa. I see we have a live one.” His voice sounded fake. “Now get in the car.”

  A shimmer of fear registered. Maybe they weren’t the saviors they claimed to be. The stockier one opened the front passenger side, and she had little choice but to get in. Mr. Blue Eye’s slid into the driver’s side and the other one, with the hooded eyes, slipped in back. The leather smelled fresh and the interior spotless. Holy Ghost. This was a Cadillac. No wonder they could afford to buy her. The big question was for what purpose?

  Chapter Three

  The moment Clay wrapped his arm around Elena’s waist, so many sensations bombarded him, he didn’t know where to begin or even how to control them. His cock was painfully hard, his bones cracked, and his fangs repeatedly poked out. Only one explanation existed—Elena was their mate. What were the odds? Mating was encoded in a werewolf’s genes at birth. When the two met, his body had reacted in such a visceral way there’d been no doubt she was the one.

  He thought his body would calm when they drove away from the club, but it didn’t. His need for her escalated ten-fold.

  Between Dirk’s comment about feeling odd when they first entered the hallway, coupled with the way his friend continuously twitched in the room, Dirk felt the pull, too. While Clay was thrilled about having a woman they could share, the timing sucked. Bedding a virgin wasn’t on his bucket list, but now it might be.

  He’d always questioned how two friends, who liked to share their women, would share the same woman as their mate, but it had happened. Maybe there was more to mating than he understood.

  Clay looked across the seat at her. The glow from the streetlights illuminated her trembling chin. “Are you cold, Elena?” He slid the lever to heat.

  She gasped. “How did you know my name?”

  This wasn’t the right place to tell her everything. She’d need a good night’s sleep and a decent meal before he explained what happened. “When we get you home, we’ll talk.”

  “I don’t have a home. I moved out of my apartment a few weeks ago.”

  He knew that. “I meant our home.”

  She turned her shoulder away from him and that stung. “So you really are going to keep me?” She swiped a finger under her eye. “You said you’d help me escape.”

  Fuck me. This was going to be harder than he thought. “I did and I am, but I can’t dump you on the street and wave goodbye.”

  “I could go to my friend’s house.”

  He thought she might say that. “We need your help to shut down these men.”

  She turned back around. That seemed to get through to her. “Me? What can I do? I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  “You worked for Harvey Couch, didn’t you?”

  “Is he the one behind my capture?” She tugged on her seatbelt, but he couldn’t tell if she was trying to get out or just frantic. “Was he upset that I quit?”

  “We’re not sure. That’s why we need your help.”

  Her hand lowered as if that calmed her. “Okay, but I don’t really know anything.”

  “I’m betting you learned more than you realize. And that’s one reason why we can’t have you wandering around Gulfside, or anywhere for that matter, until we stop this group from selling more girls.”

  Her chin lowered.

  “It’ll be okay. I promise.” He wasn’t a religious man, but if some higher being did exist, he hoped like hell he hadn’t just given her false hope.

  Once he turned off the highway, he headed east toward their home. Clay couldn’t imagine how frightened she must be, but he wasn’t very good at comforting females. The ones he’d dated had been high profile women whose jobs required them to be in control all day long. That was why they liked his dominant ways. Being a submissive allowed them their freedom. With Elena, that might never happen.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into his driveway.

  “Where are we?”

  “At our house.”

  He couldn’t believe he actually wanted her to tell him how much she liked the neighborhood and his home. Stupid. The woman had been traumatized, and he needed to be sensitive to her needs.

  Too bad his body didn’t give a shit.

  Dirk was out of the back in a flash and opened her door. She might freak when she saw all the clothes the Pack had purchased for her.

  “Watch your step,” Dirk said. “The stones can be a little uneven.”

  When Dirk took her hand, Clay realized his friend was lost. Dirk wasn’t the best at relating to others. Now it seemed he’d found his match.

  #

  Elena couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. A man wouldn’t pay for a woman except to have sex with her. She couldn’t imagine they’d willingly release her without expecting some payment—payment that wouldn’t be in the form of cash. Getting out of that small room had been her goal, but would these men let her go or would she be their sexual slave?

  The expected revulsion at the concept of making love with them never materialized.

  Having sex with someone as rich and powerful as one of these men sent a small cramp between her thighs, and that scared her almost as much as spending the rest of her days in the small, dark cage.

  Be honest. If the circumstances had been different, and she’d met them at a party, she would have found these two attractive. Mr. Blue Eyes was sophisticated and charming. His classic good looks, square jaw, and broad shoulders were what made a woman fantasize. To her dismay, men like him never took a second look at her, a dumpy Latino woman.

  The other one, with the brooding good looks, might have been more her type. He was thick around his chest and legs, even though his face held no fat. He wasn’t much of a talker, but his kindness shone through in his actions. Her mom taught her to look for the good in people, and that was what she planned to do.

  “Welcome to our home.” Mr. Blue Eyes led her to the sofa. “Can we get you something to drink?”

  “I don’t drink.” Or do drugs or a lot of other things.

  His smile reached his eyes. “We have soda and water.”

  Some of the tension in her shoulders released. “Water would be nice.”

  The more serious of the two sat across from her. “My real name is Dirk Tilton.” He nodded behind him. “Our host is Clay Demmers.”

  Here she thou
ght only she used a fake name. “Why did he tell me his name was Randy?”

  “We were working undercover.”

  Her heart soared. “You’re with the FBI?” This was too good to be true.

  “Not exactly.”

  Clay handed her a glass of water. Her fingers brushed against his and a spark shot through her. Whoa. The floors were wood and not carpet, so why the static charge? With a shaky hand, she drank half the glass.

  With her thirst quenched, she refocused. “Who do you work for?”

  Dirk looked up at Clay. “It’s complicated. Wouldn’t you like to change and maybe take a shower?”

  The words shower and change were dream words. “The shower sounds wonderful, but I have nothing else to put on.”

  “We bought you a few things.”

  Confusion once more slammed into her. “When? How? You just bought me.”

  Clay sat next to her and slipped her hand between his two. Her first reaction was to pull away, but she let herself enjoy the feel of him for a moment.

  “We saved you. There’s a big difference.”

  “Then you are going to let me go?” Her pulse soared as she uncrossed her ankles, ready to sprint to the door.

  He inhaled and slowly let out a breath. “It’s complicated. As for your clothes, we spoke with your mother in Costa Rica and purchased them yesterday. She was kind enough to email a photo of you, too.”

  Yesterday? She was in that terrible cage yesterday. Her mind splintered, and she pulled her hand back. “Okay. Who are you, really?” They seemed to know everything about her. She wanted to ask what they told her mother, but that question could wait.

  Clay leaned against the sofa and stretched out long, powerful-looking legs. “I can see you won’t be happy until we tell you a few things.” He held up a finger. “That’s fair enough. We work for an organization that has been keeping an eye on John Hood’s human trafficking scheme for quite a while. He was the man in the pinstriped suit.”

  To think she almost believed he might have been the one to save her. “He came to the warehouse and dragged me to that place to sell me.”

  “I’m sorry.” He glanced to the ceiling then back at her. “A few weeks ago a woman approached you about leaving your job.”

  He knew about that? “Yes. She gave me money.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Did she work for this Mr. Hood?”

  The tension around his eyes eased. “No. She wanted your job so she could question Harvey Couch.” He held up a hand. “She didn’t get her answers. Couch originally ran the human trafficking organization.”

  She slumped back in her seat. “The man was scum, but I had no idea he was into something so terrible.” She held up her palm. “I swear.”

  “We know you weren’t involved. We’ve been after him for a while and wanted to contact you about him. In trying to locate you, we discovered you’d been abducted. Only we had no idea where they’d taken you. That’s why it took us so long to find you.”

  This made some sense. “How did you find me?”

  “Our organization knew about the sale. We went undercover to free you, and to learn more about Couch’s, or rather Hood’s operation.”

  “Are you going to arrest Couch or Mr. Hood?” No woman should be sold.

  “Couch is dead.”

  As much as she didn’t wish harm to anyone, she was thrilled the evil man would never come after her. “Then why did Mr. Hood take me? Was it because of Mr. Couch?”

  Dirk leaned forward. “Clay, the less she knows the better.”

  “Dirk’s right.” He stood and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  She stood and this time she willingly placed her hand in his. It seemed right, almost as if her mom would approve.

  More relaxed than when she first arrived, she finally took a moment to notice her surroundings. She loved that the living room had tall ceilings and was open to the kitchen. The need for a fireplace in Florida eluded her, but the eclectic furniture was all-male and very comfortable.

  Clay led her down a hallway. “This is where you will be staying.”

  She had her own room? That was more than she’d hoped for. Clay pushed open the door and she took one step in and halted. “It’s beautiful.”

  The queen-size bed had a purple and beige comforter and more pillows than she had in her whole apartment. Maybe the best feature was the lounge chair and small table in the corner. If she’d had books, she could picture herself reading for hours.

  Stop it. They’re letting you go. After they question you.

  “We hung up the clothes. The tags are still on them, so if they don’t fit, we can return them.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Go shower and relax. We’ll talk when you get out.”

  Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t eaten all day. “Sorry.”

  “Dinner will be ready when you’re finished.”

  Clay turned and left. She glanced to the ceiling and placed her palms together. In a very soft voice, she thanked God for picking these two to save her. She dashed to the closet, hoping they didn’t buy her tacky tops and too-tight skirts like Hood had.

  She pulled out the clothes one after another. Happiness streaked through her. They’d purchased a few pairs of yoga pants, something she loved to wear, athletic shirts, and several ankle-length stretchy skirts. These men were amazing.

  She grabbed a pair of pants and a modest top then stepped to the chest of drawers, hoping to find underwear. Yes! Her cheeks heated as she pictured them buying the lingerie. Maybe a female operative had handled that chore. She pulled out hip-hugging panties and a bra her exact size. Wow.

  Shower time!

  She rushed into the bathroom and once more stopped. A large walk-in shower took up the back wall, and the jetted tub in the middle of the room was something she dreamed of owning one day. On the countertop sat some grocery store brand blush and lipstick, along with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a new razor. Who were these guys and what did they really want?

  Enjoy it.

  God sure did work in mysterious ways. She turned on the shower and locked the door before she undressed. Although she’d never wear this tawdry outfit again, perhaps someone more needy could use it. Her thoughts raced to Barbie. Poor girl. Elena had no idea if either of her cage-mates was sold, and if they had been, she hoped they were as lucky as her.

  The shampoo and conditioner on the shower shelf were a brand she’d only seen in upscale department stores, and the bar soap smelled of mint and lemons. Yum.

  As soon as she stepped into the shower and the warm water blasted her face, her body relaxed. Don’t get used to this. Why not? The men seemed to want her to feel at home. After two weeks of imprisonment, right now that was exactly what she was going to do.

  She scrubbed her face, and as she rubbed the bar of soap over her body, lurid thoughts skated through her mind. Were the men in the living room talking about how they’d like to touch her or were they making plans to send her on her way?

  Dirk, while quiet, had brushed against her a few times, almost as if he wanted to test whether she’d be receptive to him. She was attracted to both men, and that wouldn’t do. It didn’t matter. In a few days, she wouldn’t see them again.

  Her body sagged. What’s wrong with you? Those days of confinement must have messed with her morals. Or maybe being in a cage and threatened made her realize that life could be cut short at any time. Enjoying the moment needed to be her new philosophy.

  After washing her hair and body, she turned off the water and towel dried. She drew on her new outfit and checked herself out in the mirror. Except for hair that curled every which way, she looked like herself and not some floozy. She opened the door to the bedroom, and the rich aroma of tomato sauce permeated her room. Her mouth watered.

  Shoes? She checked the closet but found none. Well, they couldn’t think of everything. She didn’t relish walking around in four-inch heels. What the heck. Going barefoot never hurt anyone.
<
br />   Elena headed down the hall. She heard her name and slowed. When she couldn’t make out what they said, she entered the living room. Dirk was stirring something on the stove, and Clay was emptying vegetables into a bowl on the center island.

  “Good timing.” Clay’s eyes widened. “I see the clothes fit you. You look good.”

  She wasn’t used to getting compliments, but maybe it was because she’d lost some weight while imprisoned. “Thank you. They’re perfect.” She smoothed her hands down her shirt and over her hips.

  “Have a seat while we serve dinner.”

  “Can I help?” When she’d visited her big family in Costa Rica last year, there were at least four people running around trying to get the food out for the hoard of relatives.

  “We’re good.”

  She couldn’t exactly insist. Two beers and one glass of water were already at the table so it was easy to tell where they wanted her to sit. A ton of questions raced through her mind about her situation, but she figured they would let her know when they saw fit.

  She sipped her water and watched the men. Clay gave Dirk directions, and his hands tightened as if he didn’t like it when Clay took control. Interesting. She’d pictured Dirk as the one who took what he wanted. These men intrigued her and kept surprising her in good ways.

  They brought over spaghetti with meatballs, a vegetable medley, a green tossed salad, and garlic bread to the table. It looked divine. “Do you always eat like this?”

  Clay shrugged. “More or less depending on whether we have time to cook.”

  Dirk shot him a glance. “We? I cook. You pour.”

  She always thought macho men only knew how to microwave frozen food. “I’m impressed, whoever made the food.”

  Clay smiled and Dirk’s lips softened.

  “Elena,” Clay said, almost whispering. “I know you’re in a difficult situation, but before you insist on leaving, we need to explain a few things to you.” He handed her the bowl of veggies and she scooped a spoonful on her plate.

  Their solemn tone dashed her high. For those few minutes while she watched them work their magic in the kitchen, she’d remembered how important family was and how much she missed them. “Okay.”