Her Two Wolves

by T. S. Ryder

  There was no answer. She took the steps to the porch and looked around. It was a small, one-story hunting cabin, simple and rustic. Not like Cain’s normal style at all. She knocked on the door and to her surprise, it creaked open.

  Inside, the house was dusty and dark. There was a faded green couch over a bearskin rug, a cold fireplace along one wall and a small kitchen. She could see a bedroom through an open door, but it didn’t look like anyone was here.

  “Michelle?”

  She screamed and jumped straight up in the air. She spun around and saw a haggard looking Cain.

  “Did I kill him?” he asked, his voice thick and slurring. “Did I kill my best friend?”

  “No,” Michelle said, shaking her head. She put her hands on his arms and felt that he was shaking. “He’s alive. He’s in the car, but there’s some sort of poison-”

  Cain spun around, breaking free of her grip and stumbling towards the car. He opened the back door to reveal Brock, unconscious and splayed out in the back seat. He was covered in sweat and shaking.

  Cain pulled his best friend out of the car and hefted him over his shoulder. As gently as possible, Cain carried Brock inside, depositing him on the bed in the bedroom.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “I’m a witch,” she said looking into his blue eyes. “I always knew there was something magical about you, but I didn’t know what it was. Why did you attack us?”

  He hung his head and said. “I lost control. I had been fighting it ever since I heard that you agreed to go out with Brock. I was so angry. I tried to contain the dragon. I came out here to find some peace and quiet and try to control myself. But I couldn’t...” He shook his head. “I lost control. It’s been years since this happened and now I’ve killed my best friend.”

  “There has to be some cure for the poison,” Michelle said. “What’s the cure?”

  “There is a way, but there’s not enough time. He won’t survive.”

  “Please,” Michelle said, reaching across Brock’s prone form. “I have power. Tell me what the cure is and we’ll find a way to do it.”

  “He has to complete his transformation. He has to become a Shifter like me. If he can survive it,” Cain shook his head.

  “How does he complete the transformation?” Michelle asked.

  “There has to be a third. Someone needs to be a conduit. The magic has to pass from me to the conduit and then to the infected,” he looked up at her sadly. “It’s rare that it works. There aren’t that many of us, most don’t survive the change.”

  “I’ll be the conduit,” Michelle said. “Let me help you save him.”

  “No,” he said. “I won’t ask that of you.”

  “I’m not asking for your permission.”

  Chapter Ten

  Michelle frantically searched through the cabinets. Sage, myrrh, wine, candles. Thankfully, as a fellow Magical, Cain had all of these things within arm's reach. That was the end of his helpfulness. He stood over Brock watching as his friend shivered and writhed in pain. Brock was moaning quietly, sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Pull the bed out away from the wall,” Michelle ordered and thankfully, Cain was able to follow simple instructions. Michelle poured a circle of salt around the bed and then stepped over the barrier. She wasn’t sure what being a conduit included, but she needed to be able to protect herself if it put her in a vulnerable state.

  She put a cast iron pot on the floor within the circle and threw in a few ripped out pages from a paperback and lit them on fire.

  “Sit,” she ordered Cain and he obliged.

  She threw in the sage and myrrh, filling the air around them with a sweet and smoky smell. “I don’t know what to do, you have to guide me.”

  “I’ve never...I’ve never done this before,” he said kneeling on the bed.

  “Trusts your instincts, they’ll guide you,” Michelle said. She poured a glass of deep red wine and staring Cain in the eye she took a sip, she handed him the cup and he took a sip, after that they lifted Brock’s head and he sipped the wine down as well.

  The smoke and herbs were swimming in the air around them. Even though it had only been one glass of wine, she felt a little tipsy. It was a strong wine, but even stronger was the magic she put into it.

  She stared at Cain and his aura erupted around him as he squeezed her hand. Below them, Brock’s aura was an undulating white and green, both colors mixing together, but not blending. The green was slowly overtaking the white.

  She took Brock’s hand in hers and kissed his knuckles, looking down at his shivering form. Still holding Brock’s hand with her right hand, she took Cain’s hand with her left hand next, and repeated the action, laying a series of kisses along his knuckles.

  “Show us the way,” she whispered. “Save him. You know how to do it.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her, his hands holding her by the neck and pulling her closer and closer. The herbs and smoke and wine were mingling and she felt that strange weightlessness that came from magic. Spells were otherworldly, they were something else. They didn’t follow the normal rules of the physical world.

  She kissed him back as the smoke blossomed and grew. It was more smoke than her small fire could have made. The smoke was thick and swirling, but it wasn’t burning her lungs or her eyes. The smoke was like a hurricane. It was swirling all around them, obscuring everything else in the room. But they were in the eye, the small bed with the three of them was free of smoke, the air was clear.

  Everything was clear. Everything was standing out in harsh light. The sensation of Cain’s hands on her body was intense. It was like electricity coursing through her veins, lighting along her skin. She felt charged. She gasped as Cain moved down to her neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin there. She leaned into him, desperate for more. Her hands were tangling in his hair.

  She looked up at him and saw not his crystal blue eyes, but the dark, yellow eyes of the dragon. She was not afraid. She reached up and caressed the skin of his cheek. He leaned into her touch as his hand moved down her neck and to her breasts.

  She felt someone behind her. He touched her skin and his touch was fire. She cried out in pleasure, as he traced fire over her shoulders and neck. It was Brock. He was breathing deeply. It was the harsh ragged breath of the dragon. He pulled her back against him. She could feel his erection pushing against her back as his hands came up and captured her breasts.

  Brock was laying kisses along the back of her neck and then Cain was in front of her, kissing her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers. The sensations were too much, she couldn’t tell who was touching what, but she wanted none of it to stop.

  “Yes,” she cried out, throwing her head back. Cain took the opportunity to lean down and kiss her chest while Brock unzipped her dress. He traced kisses down her back as the zipper went lower and lower. Goosebumps erupted on her arms when Cain pulled the front of her dress down until she was in nothing but her bra and panties.

  Brock unsnapped her bra and Cain pulled it off. He took her breast in his mouth. Cain licked her nipple and then bit down gently, making her shudder. She tried to pull away, but that only pushed her back into Brock. They were both so powerful and strong, all of their attention focused on her. Their hands and lips and tongues were moving over every inch of her skin teasing her and driving her wild.

  She brought Cain’s head up from her breast and kissed him. The she looked behind her and kissed Brock. She looked between the two men and finally they looked at each other and then they were leaning in and kissing each other while their hands explored her.

  It was the hottest thing she had ever seen. These two huge strong men in bed with her. Brocks’ hands pushed her down on the bed and her panties slid off of her.

  “Undress each other,” she said quietly. She wanted to watch. She laid on her back and as Cain slipped Brock’s shirt over his head, Brock unbuttoned Cain’s pants. She was so turned on, her body physically ached from wanting
them. She couldn't stand to just watch. She reached up to their strong shoulders and pulled both of them down onto bed with her.

  They were a tangle of lips and hands and arms and legs. She didn’t know who was who or where they were. There was nothing but the inescapable pleasure of the three of them moving in bed together. She felt someone slip their fingers into her and she arched her back, clinging to someone’s hard shoulders as fingers spun within her. Strong fingers were gentle and teasing, caressing her most sensitive places.

  Another set of hands massaged her breasts as a mouth came down to kiss her lips. She was awash in sensations, straining for their touch. Someone’s tongue circled the tip of her breast and she buried her hands in his hair urging him for more. She was writhing on the bed, unsure of where she was and what was happening. Michelle was overwhelmed with the dedicated attentions these two men were paying to her body. She never wanted it to stop.

  Cain and Brock were on the bed kissing and touching each other and her. She didn’t know where she ended and they begin. Her orgasm was building up inside of her, growing more powerful with every lick and touch. She arched her back and cried out the word YES! when Cain entered her. Her body strained to contain him. Fire coursed through her veins as he slid into her and began to move in and out in a heady rhythm that matched her heartbeat.

  There was something else. She could feel the magic enter her and course through her veins. It was red and green and yellow and it was taking over her body as it moved into her. It felt wonderful and amazing, driving her wild from the inside out. She could do nothing but writhe underneath him and beg for more, her breath catching in her throat. Brock leaned over her and kissed her as Cain continued to thrust.

  She slipped her tongue over Brock’s lip and felt the magic pass through her to him. He breathed in the scent of it and kissed her harder, desperate for more. His hands were on her shoulders and then her breasts. She was holding onto him as her orgasm built up inside of her.

  A wave of pleasure was passing between them, growing with every second. Every touch and every movement sparking the shared fire within them. They were nothing but pleasure and sex and love and friendship and sweat, all moving together in a perfect rhythm. It was too much, too big for one person to contain. Her body tensed as the last of the dragon’s magic passed through her lips into Brocks’ and the wave of pleasure crested and crashed down on all three of them.

  She was awash in pleasure, reaching out to hold onto both of them as her body moved out of control. The smoke around them swirled to a fever pitch. With a dragon’s scream, Cain finished and the spell was broken.

  They flopped down in bed, a heap of tangled limbs as the smoke around them slowly dissipated. Brock was to her left, leaning on her bare shoulder and she saw that his fever had broken. He had stopped shaking and his skin was back to its healthy color. He looked normal again.

  His aura was different. The bright, innocent human light was gone. Now it matched Cain’s. It was burning with yellows and angry reds that flickered and licked the air around him. They had saved him. Brock was no longer a normal human man. He was a Dragon Shifter now.

  *****

  THE END

  Paranormal Menage Romance: Heat, Hockey and Two Werewolves

  Description

  A curvy witch who is also an artist PLUS two sexy Werewolves who want her PLUS a hot hockey game!

  The only thing Piper Diamond wants to do with hockey is to stop hearing about it so much.

  For this witch, gallery owner and artist, the absolute worst time to be in her hometown of Uphoria, Alberta is when the town hosts the Werewolf League games, resulting in hockey permeating every aspect of her life. Even her normally attentive, sexy Werewolf mate, Baxter, loses his head during the hockey season and eats, sleeps and breathes hockey.

  But when the hunky center forward of Uphoria's home team, Patrick Giles, wants Piper and Baxter for his trois amour, a three-way mating group, Piper's interest in hockey suddenly skyrockets. Even though Patrick is sexy and Baxter is more than willing to have him join them, Piper's not certain that she can commit to a relationship with another Werewolf.

  Unfortunately she doesn't have much time to think about her love life. Her gallery is in financial trouble and it's all she can do to keep warlock Thor Wragge from buying it and turning her dreams into cheap reproductions. Things don't get any easier when the gallery becomes a target for vandals and burglars, so Piper has to decide what she really wants from life.

  Chapter One

  Piper Diamond tried to ignore her mate, Baxter, as he sighed, rubbing his thumbs in small circles at the base of her neck. He always knew just the right way to touch her to ease the tension in her spine. His musky Wolf scent so close to her stirred desire like it always did, but right at this moment, he wasn't after sex.

  Instead, his eyes were sad and droopy, his mouth downturned, trying to convince her to do something far different. And far less exciting.

  "Please come to the game with me."

  "Baxter, I can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have all this work to do," she gestured to the receipts and invoices strewn over her desk. "And because I don't want to. You'll have more fun without me, anyway."

  It was the Wolf League playoffs in Uphoria, Alberta. Winter howled outside and the windows rattled as sand-like grains of snow beat against them. And it always led people to bundle up in woolen hats and parkas to brave the frigid temperatures, so that they could sit in a freezing cold hockey arena and watch a bunch of Werewolves skate around on the ice, slapping around a puck with their little sticks.

  Hockey season was the worst season in Piper's opinion. Though she could easily summon up a small dragon to keep her hands toasty in the arena, she just didn't see the appeal of the sport. Not a very Canadian attitude, as Baxter repeatedly told her.

  When it came to hockey, the only delightful parts of watching a sports game–the rippling muscles of the athletes–were hidden beneath layers of padding and fur. Boring.

  What made it even more unbearable was that while the playoffs happened, they were all anybody in Uphoria, especially Baxter, would talk about. Piper couldn't even walk down the street without hearing fights over the finer points of what happened in the last game.

  Baxter leaned over her, nibbling at her neck. She tried to ignore the tingle that it created, focusing on her bookkeeping papers.

  "You have been pouring over these books for hours," Baxter nipped at her earlobe, his steamy breath in her ear. "If you come with me, I can make it really worth your time…"

  Piper swept her blue-and-purple hair out of her eyes and turned to her mate. As a Werewolf, he was able to shift forms at will and either be a man with firm muscles, dark hair, dark eyes, and a Latino complexion, or a humanoid wolf with hairy, clawed feet, hands the size of dinner plates and boundless muscles that rippled under gleaming fur the color of midnight.

  "You'll be able to enjoy the game better without me," Piper repeated. "The gallery is in the red again, I'm not sure how I'll make rent. It seems every time I break even, something happens and I'm in debt again."

  Baxter caught the arms of her swivel chair, trapping her. "Piper Diamond, you get your delicious ass out of this chair this instant. You need something to distract you, and you know how… desirous I get after we win a game."

  "You're insisting, aren't you?"

  Baxter nodded, and Piper wrapped her arms around his neck. He rarely insisted on anything, and so she knew that this was very important to him. "Okay. I'll go. On one condition. If we lose, you don't start pouting."

  Baxter flicked his tongue across her lips and she opened them readily and moaned.

  "I'll get your coat," he whispered, slipping away from her grasp.

  Piper smiled at him. She really did not want to go watch hockey, even though she had to admit the sex after Uphoria won a game and Baxter was all hopped up on adrenaline and excitement, was always mind-blowing. But Baxter was right, as he usually was. She n
eeded a distraction and hockey was better than sitting around stressing.

  They had been mates since senior prom night. Neither of them had really understood just how permanent Werewolf mating actually was. They had been hormone-fueled teenagers with their heads in the clouds, lost in a night of music and dance.

  They hadn't even known each other prior to that night.

  Nobody had asked Piper to prom. She was the high school's fat-girl that nobody noticed, except for when she snuck candy into Mr. Breton's oh-so-boring History of Magic in the Americas class. She wasn't the only one eating chocolate while Breton droned on and on, but she was the only one the other students seemed to notice. Back then, Piper hated her body, bouncing from diet to diet, her weight yo-yoed like crazy, making her constantly sick.

  She hadn't even wanted to go to prom, but her mother wanted her to go. Her mother had just stopped chemotherapy and so Piper had agreed. During a slow song, Piper was making up an exciting story to tell her mother about how much fun she had when Baxter approached. He complimented one of her art pieces that was displayed in the school hall. Talking lead to kissing, intense and fiery.

  Piper was still not entirely certain how or why it happened, but before the end of the night, they were in the backseat of his car, clumsy, awkward, but with no second thoughts.

  It had been a mistake.

  But it was the best mistake Piper had ever made. Baxter was the sweetest, most attentive mate she could ever hope to find. Even though knowing that she was his mate for life scared the shit out of her at first, it didn't take long for her to truly fall in love with him.

  "I love you," she said, leaning against him for warmth as they scampered out to the car.

  Baxter kissed the top of her head. "I love you, too."

  ***

  The game, as Piper had predicted, had Baxter jumping from his seat, swearing like a sailor at the referee every few minutes, cheering and stomping his feet every other time. He wasn’t the only one, either.