Shifter Romance Box Set

by Unknown

  Cole gasped. Anger and grief crashed into him as part of the memory snapped into place. That bastard sold me out.

  With that realization, the memory sharpened. He'd felt a sting in his side right before he'd passed out. And that wolfman loomed over him, a devious smile on the creature's lips.

  His fingers touched the small scar under his armpit. The other werewolves said he'd been tagged like an animal. They'd all but accused him of working with their enemies—whoever they were. But he didn't know anything. He'd just assumed it was all a bad dream.

  Of course, he should have told them what little he'd suspected from the start. At least Mark and Lacey. They'd been so good to him, and they deserved better. Even if he didn't have the whole story to tell. It pained him to think that this mess might be his fault somehow, and that's why they'd been caught up in it.

  "Playtime's over." The woman yanked his chain, spilling him from his sitting position onto his hands and knees. "You can fight me if you want. But if you remembered, you'd know I'm stronger."

  "I wouldn't fight a pretty thing like you," he quipped. "Please, tell me where we met."

  The crop cracked across his back, leaving a burning patch on his skin.

  "It's not important anymore," she growled with irritation. Another swing lashed out, smacking him on the side.

  Cole grimaced, gripping his waist to shield his stomach. "Was it on the ranch?" His teeth clenched. "Back home?"

  Anger swelled in her eyes. Blows rained down on his back, hot agony on top of hot agony. With his ribs burning, his body contorted. Cole shuddered but he refused to cry out, enduring the torment in silence.

  He tried to stifle a wince. Maybe if he held still, she might tire of abusing him—let him talk for a second. But no, she had him cornered like a fractious animal, and she was holding the reins. Or more accurately, the chain.

  Part of him rebelled against that. It was the same part that wanted to lash out, without any regret about hitting a woman. She was a bitch, he told himself as pain bloomed along the underside of his ribcage. It galled him that she could reduce him to this—a vulnerable creature who could barely remember anything worth a damn.

  But that wasn't really him, was it?

  No, that was frustration and fear talking. When he forced his aching body to breathe, what he really wanted was to drink in her closeness. He could smell her sweet, natural scent; almost taste it. Through the pain and his sluggish mind, he sensed a tenuous but present connection between them. He knew she was a country girl, and he knew she was acting tough. That made sense to him, though not much else did. Only he couldn't say why.

  There had to be more to her, but it was ambiguous. No more than a feeling. Was she a shifter, too?

  The crop came down with a sharp crack on his flesh, breaking his scant concentration. He groaned. His back and sides were a patchwork of pain. Gasping, he tried to focus again on her presence.

  There was something else, just at the edge of his senses. It was earthly, bestial. But not like the other shifters he'd met, at least not recently. His back throbbed, but despite that, he wanted to know her. To peel back the sadistic façade.

  Abruptly, the beating halted.

  "Tell me about the woman. The one you ran off to." she commanded, breathing hard as the first beads of sweat trickled down her temples. "Lacey."

  His heart leapt.

  He thought about Lacey's soft dark eyes, her fine lips. She had wiggled her way into his

  life and caressed his soul like no other. But she was frustratingly distant, having already kindled a solid relationship with Mark. As much as he fought for her, gave himself to her, a part of him knew she'd never be his.

  "She's a beautiful lady who took my hat and ran off with my heart," he said with earnest sadness. "You see, she's already spoken for."

  The tall woman quirked her head at him, with a confused look on her face.

  Sighing, Cole stared up at the fluorescent lights. "Well, she wasn't really my type anyway. A little too open about things. I like a more reserved, mysterious woman." He lowered his gaze. "I may not remember you. But I remember I liked you." He smiled.

  Her eyes widened and her lips parted. Then she scowled.

  "Stop mocking me, doggie," she growled. Turning, she grabbed a coil of leather from the table behind her. "You need to learn some respect."

  His hand shot up and he flinched away from her raised arm. "Whoa. I wasn't—"

  The whip cracked across his back, slicing a searing stripe of fire on his skin. He did cry out then, his ragged voice trying to tear the agony from him. Another lash cut down his side, acutely burning his ribs. She struck him with merciless determination, lacing a crisscross of scorching pain on his back.

  He lurched away, stumbling to his side, shaking his head and raising his arm to protect himself.

  "Oh no you don't." She marched over and gripped the chain, close to his neck, pulling him up on his knees. Then she shoved her hand in the back of his pants and ripped them down, exposing his naked backside. He tried to get away from her and she yanked his head around, so he faced her, his legs trapped in his pants.

  Crouching in front of him, she doubled the whip over, and held it out for him to see. The smell of oiled leather filled his nostrils.

  "I'm going to beat your ass raw," she said with a devious smile.

  "That is a really nice whip," he whimpered.

  Shocked, she stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

  "It's high quality leather." He choked back a sob, twitching from the searing ache in his back. "I like that you've taken good care of it."

  Her lip curled and she smacked his butt cheeks with the loop. The blunt force stung, but not like the crop. It was a dense, bruising pain that permeated deep into his sensitive tissue. A yelp burst from his lips and he struggled in her grasp.

  But she was strong; she hadn't lied about that. She jerked the chain down, forcing his head to the floor between her legs. He whined as her blows continued, burning his skin, then striking over the soreness, elevating the pain.

  Cole thought about fighting her again; that part of him that wanted to snarl and call her a bitch rose dangerously close to the surface. But as the cold floor pressed against the side of his face, he forced himself to breathe, to endure, to submit.

  Whatever she was, a small voice in his mind said she was worth it. Rather than give in to the dark thoughts that hounded his psyche, he held on to that certainty like a tiny beacon of faith.

  Plus he'd suffered a beating or two in his life—though never anything like this. And while it hurt like hell, there was something else too. The fact that it was a beautiful woman wielding the lash made him tingle in ways he hadn't expected.

  The length of leather struck his backside again and again, leaving fiery marks followed by deep, smoldering twinges. His legs jerked and his fingers splayed on the ground. It was all he could do to keep from crying out—from crying her name. If only he'd known it.

  As she beat his tender ass, he caught the alluring, musky scent of her crotch. His cock stiffened and jutted out above his waistband as white-hot shocks of agony reverberated through his backside. Wincing from each harsh blow, he closed his eyes, and let her smell invade him. It was like a balm to his suffering, soothing him while arousing a deep desire.

  "That's nice," he mumbled as tears streamed down his face and blood pounded in his ears.

  She stopped in mid-swing, her arm hovering over his back.

  "What did you say?" she asked incredulously, yanking his head up to her face.

  "Why—" he breathed, "—would such a lovely woman let herself be used for this?"

  As she stared at him with astonishment, he lurched forward and his lips locked onto hers.

  She made a strangled sound in her throat and roughly pushed him back with her hands braced against his shoulders. Her face contorted in conflict, but scarlet grew on her cheeks.

  "My name's Cole. What's yours?" He asked with droopy eyes. The skin on his ass sang a
song of searing flesh, and the room wavered as a dizzy spell overtook him. Blackness closed in. And with just the caress of her scent, he felt at peace.

  * * * *

  Jeremiah stared at Mark in cold silence, his brows slightly pinched.

  "I'm going with or without you." Mark said finally.

  Lacey's hand tightened on her husband's arm. After all they'd gone through, she finally had him back. Now he was going to leave her again?

  Rebecca raised her head, giving her husband a defiant glance before she turned to Mark. "I'll help you."

  "No!" Jeremiah shouted as he took a step forward. Then he smoothed his hands down the sides of his pants. "If what you say is true, we are no longer safe. You need to stay and protect our home. I will go."

  Jax slapped his forehead. "Motherfuck—" His back heaved as he took a deep breath. "All right, but I'm scouting ahead."

  Jeremiah's head whipped around. "That won't be necessary."

  The black beast clenched his fingers into a tight fist. "If you're going along with this wild chase then I have to question your sanity. So I'm scouting ahead." He turned and stalked away before Jeremiah could respond.

  "You're taking the twins," Torry called after him.

  A string of curses echoed up to the cave but Jax didn't turn back as he disappeared behind a tent.

  Lacey shivered. It might be unfair, but first impressions were hard to dispute. She didn't like the black werewolf, and it wasn't only because of his half-transformed features. He'd somehow lost Cole out in the woods and then turned around and picked a fight with her husband.

  What happened to the camaraderie they'd shared with Rebecca and Jeremiah just a short time ago? Now it seemed like everyone was at each other's throats. And Mark was in the middle of it.

  Lacey feared for Cole, but she couldn't deal with being parted from Mark. Not with so much uncertainty around them. He was the only aspect of her life that seemed solid anymore.

  "You're not leaving me again," she whispered to Mark. "I'm going with you."

  Mark turned his back the others, gripping Lacey's arms with his firm hands. "We're going armed. I know you don't like guns, and I need everyone there to shoot if the need arises."

  Lacey bit her lip. This wasn't just about guns. Without so many words, Mark was telling her that he needed to protect her, not expose her to risk. She swallowed. "Promise me you'll come back in one piece."

  He nodded. "We need to get supplies together and quickly. The sooner we go, the sooner we'll be back."

  "I can help." She smiled bravely up at his proud face.

  He hugged her and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. Then he strode off with Jeremiah.

  After that, everything happened too fast. The camp mobilized around her, with people hurriedly rummaging through tents and collecting their belongings. A ripple of chatter spread like wildfire through the scattering werewolves, but she paid no attention to whatever they were talking about. Probably Mark and herself. She couldn't face that right now.

  Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as she gathered clothing into packs. But she sucked them back and forced her hands to work, despite the heaviness in her chest.

  The backpacks were small with elastic straps. She assumed they were designed to remain on a shifter's back as he or she changed. There were rows of loops on either side, possibly to hold poles—or gun barrels.

  One of the pack members bumped her shoulder and she glanced up. Jax's dark eyes glared down at her and he growled what might have been an apology or a curse. Then her eyes wandered to the quiver of bolts slung over his back. Her nose wrinkled as the acrid smell of silver stung her senses.

  "You'll be careful with those right?" Lacey asked tentatively. "I mean—just keep a lookout for Cole. He's a black-coated wolf like yourself."

  "This is idiocy." He glanced up the hill where Jeremiah stood with Torry and Rebecca, heatedly discussing something out of earshot. "There are no werewolves at that facility. As far as we know, he's gone back to where he's been holed up for the past month." Then he stared down at Lacey with a menacing grin. "In your bed."

  She gasped and took a step back, her hand clutched to her throat. If it weren't for the color rising in her cheeks, she would have thought of something to snap back. Instead she blinked and stared at her feet. How did he know that?

  Jax simply laughed and continued on his way.

  Her unease lingered as the sun set over the vast mountain range. And as the light faded through the veiled tree tops, the claws of fear in her gut only clenched tighter.

  The men left in twilight and she remained at the top of the hill long after they faded from view. She believed in her husband with all her heart, but since his transformation he'd grown bolder, taking risks he would have avoided before. And sometimes that scared her.

  As the stars pieced through the night sky and the moon rose over the mountain, a chill ran up her spine. Something's not right.

  "I'm sure they'll be fine."

  Lacey jerked. Rebecca strolled up to join her and brushed a hand against her arm. "My mate is cautious—to a fault at times—but he will protect them."

  The words were warm and full of reassurance, but Lacey could only muster a weak smile. "Do you think my husband is reckless?"

  Rebecca frowned. "No. I think the world has changed around our little pack. The more we seclude ourselves from it, the more we become vulnerable." Her warm fingers interlaced with Lacey's. "Your husband has the courage to face things head-on. You'd both make great pack leaders."

  Lacey gripped the other woman's hand. "You sound sad."

  "Sometimes I wish things could have been different. I was born a werewolf, so I never imagined a normal life for myself. Even so, I yearned for a family once."

  Lacey swallowed the lump in her throat and lowered her head. "Me too."

  "Don't misunderstand me. I love Jeremiah with all my heart, and my pack is the most important part of my life." A smile spread across Rebecca's lips. "I know you two will have an amazing life together."

  "We already do." Lacey flashed her a tentative smile. "I couldn't ask for a better partner. I mean, he even..." But her face burned and her voice trailed off. Some things weren't so easy to talk about, despite what they'd already done. She tried to start over. "Did you and Jeremiah know we would be into... because of Cole?"

  "Your friend, the cowboy?" Rebecca gave her a confused look. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

  "I mean, the fact that he shared our bed." The first few words were easier than she'd expected, and the rest spilled out in a rush. "First it was the hat... and the wine. They didn't know they were werewolves, so I had to show them. I knew Mark was weirded out at first, but he let me anyway. And Cole didn't join us every night... just sometimes."

  Rebecca's eyes opened wide and she shook her head.

  "You didn't know?"

  "Oh honey, I'm sorry." Rebecca squeezed her hand. "Your husband is a more honorable man than I even realized, taking such a risk to save your lover."

  "I just need him to come back safe," Lacey whispered. "Both of them." Then she turned to Rebecca. "If you didn't know, then why did that black wolfman know?"

  "What—you mean Jax? I'm sure it wouldn't matter to him."

  Lacey frowned. "He definitely knew. Did you tell him to watch us for the past month?"

  "We were aware of you." Rebecca shook her head slowly. "But no, of course not."

  "Does that mean he was watching us on his own?"

  "I—I don't know. What did Jax say?"

  "Well he was angry, but I don't know what about..." Lacey looked down at her feet. "He said Cole had spent the past month in my bed. But he said it like he was taunting me, and he smiled."

  "That doesn't make sense." Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "We didn't even know about your friend a month ago. We barely knew about you and Mark."

  Lacey snatched her hand back from Rebecca's grasp and covered her mouth. In her mind, the three of them were in bed. Both Mark
and Cole penetrating her, driving her to new thrills of ecstasy. And through the window, the beady eyes of the beast man peering into their bedroom. "He was watching us." She shivered.

  Rebecca folded her arms. "It sounds like there's a lot Jax hasn't told us."

  "What does this mean?" Lacey turned to the other woman, meeting her fiery gaze.

  "It means our mates are in danger. You and I have to warn them."

  * * * *

  Cole's eyes fluttered open with a rush. The pounding in his head had diminished to a dull ache, but at least the room had stopped spinning.

  Propped up on a bed, he'd been completely stripped of his clothes, but a scratchy blanket mercifully covered his nakedness. Unfortunately, the heavy collar still adorned his neck, with the thick chain trailing over the edge.

  But the lack of pain in his back surprised him, and his rear was only slightly raw, like a minor flush of sunburn. It amazed him how quickly his body recovered. One of the benefits of being cursed, he mused to himself.

  Shaking his head, he raised a hand to rub his eyes and stopped. With sudden awareness, he realized someone was next to him. Her sweet, rustic smell toyed with his nose.

  "Ursula," she stated, her husky voice dancing in his ears.

  Cole flinched as he glanced up. He'd thought some terrible things about her earlier. Cursed her in his fevered mind. He only hoped he hadn't said them out loud. She might have been beating him, but that was no excuse not to act like a gentleman.

  Then his eyes went wide and a blush burned his cheeks. Insulting her wasn't the issue. No, he'd done worse than that. Like getting aroused. And he'd said...

  "Did you mean what you said before?" She sat hunched in a chair, her hands cupped together with her arms braced on her knees. The thin tank top stretched under her breasts and did little to hide her cleavage. Her gray eyes burned into him with intensity. "Or was it the drugs talking?"

  "Well, I'm not normally so forward about things." He grinned and reached a hand back to scratch his neck, masking his embarrassment. His glance panned down to her shorts, which did little to hide the voluptuous curve of her hips, and he looked away as heat rose in his face.