by Becca Van
“Mate,” Brax snarled at Blayk, who quickly withdrew his hands from her and stepped back.
Rochelle moaned and drew in a deep breath. Reaching up, she winced when her fingers connected with the lump on her head.
“Shit a brick. What the…”
“Are you all right, Rochelle?” Jarrod asked, concern evident in his voice.
Rochelle’s eyes popped open, and she slowly looked from Jarrod to Braxton, himself, and Blayk.
“What happen…” she began to ask and then must have remembered. Her cheeks turned first pink and then a bright-red hue. Covering her face with her hands, her shoulders shook.
Her voice came out muffled. “God sakes.”
Malcolm bit his lip when he heard a gurgling noise come from Jarrod. He smiled at the quirk she had put to the familiar phrase “for God’s sake.” Obviously their mate wasn’t a woman bound by conformity. He looked up at his brother and saw he was barely containing his humor. Brax shifted at his side, drawing his gaze. His brother had a smile as wide as Texas on his face. That was all it took.
Malcolm burst out laughing, and once he started he couldn’t stop. He fell to his knees clutching his stomach and hoped his mate understood he wasn’t laughing because she was injured. Tears rolled down his face, and he glanced at his brothers through misty eyes as their raucous laughter joined his. Blayk was standing off to the side of the exam bed looking totally perplexed, and that only made him laugh harder. Malcolm couldn’t even stop when his mate sat up on the bed, glaring at them.
Blayk reached out to steady her when she stood and swayed. That wiped the amusement from him in an instant. His hilarity turned to deep growls until Blayk just glared at him and helped Rochelle to sit on the side of the bed before she fell down.
For some reason his growling made his mate’s mouth twitch, and she went from glaring daggers at him and his brothers to amusement and then full-blown joviality. But her humor didn’t last long. She groaned and then clutched her head in obvious pain.
“God, how embarrassing,” she whispered. “I’ll pay for the damage.”
“Shh, it’s okay, baby. We’ll cover it,” Jarrod told her with a smile.
“No. I will pay for the damage. I need to get moving.”
“No. You can’t drive with a concussion, ma’am. I wouldn’t want you on the road with a head injury. You’ll be a danger to others as well as yourself.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Dr. Blayk Friess.”
“Oh, well then at least you know what you’re talking about,” Rochelle muttered and closed her eyes.
“Thanks. I think.”
Jarrod snorted and moved in close to Rochelle. She looked up quickly and winced at the movement. “Rochelle, these are my brothers, Malcolm and Braxton. Since you aren’t allowed to drive, why don’t I take you up to our spare room and you can get settled in for the night?”
“Who found me?”
“My brothers and I did,” Malcolm answered, moving forward. He held out a hand in greeting and nearly went to his knees with a groan when her skin met his. His wolf pushed at him, wanting him to claim his mate, but he got the upper hand and pushed his animal back down.
“Shit,” Rochelle whispered, pulling her hand away from his and slipping off the table, only to sway once more. “I can’t stay here. I have to leave. Just let me get my checkbook from my car and I’ll cover the cost of the damage.”
“You aren’t driving anywhere, young lady. You had better let these three settle you into their spare room and lie down before you fall down,” Blayk said sternly.
“Who are you bossing around?”
Talia, Blayk’s mate, stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips and her chin lifted. Malcolm held in a grin as she ignored Blayk’s eye roll and shoved her way in between him and Jarrod.
“I’m Talia Friess,” she said, offering her hand. “The bossy guy over there is my husband.”
Malcolm watched as Rochelle hesitantly reached out and shook hands, introducing herself.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I’ll bet you’re hungry and thirsty. Why don’t you come on out to the dining room and we’ll get you something to eat?”
Malcolm heard Rochelle’s stomach grumble, and she sighed as if with resignation.
“Thank you so much. I don’t want to put any of you out.”
“You’re not,” Talia replied with a smile. “Come on. You can lean on me. Your head must be killing you.”
Malcolm and his brothers followed Talia and their mate out of Blayk’s office, down the hall, and into the large dining room. All the way there, he cursed himself for not suggesting that Rochelle lean on his shoulder instead.
Chapter Two
Rochelle leaned against Talia as she was led into a large dining room which was connected to a massive gourmet kitchen. Even though her head felt like a bass drum had taken up residence where her brain was supposed to be, she was actually quite hungry. Cringing internally as each step she took made the throb behind her skull worse, she felt her cheeks heat again as she thought over how Jarrod and his brothers would have found her.
She was such a klutz. She was embarrassed to think the three Friess brothers must have found her on the floor with her jeans and panties around her ankles. Her full bladder might have been uncomfortable, but now she was in even more pain and feeling very humiliated as well.
She must have looked one hell of a sight when they found her. She didn’t blame them for busting a gut laughing, but why did it have to be such incredibly handsome men who found her? Jarrod with his tall, muscular body, bald head, and that roguish scar was matched in good looks by both his brothers. Malcolm had collar-length brown hair, green eyes, wide shoulders, and long legs, which kept drawing her eyes. Braxton’s eyes were more green than blue and his hair was a sandy color. He wasn’t as brawny as Jarrod, but none of the men were lacking in the muscle department.
The Friess brothers were so similar in looks they might have been triplets, except that Malcolm looked to be a couple of years younger than Jarrod, and maybe a year or two separated Jarrod from Braxton. Malcolm was an inch shorter than Jarrod and Braxton was an inch taller. Who knew she would meet such gigantic, sexy men when she had left her hometown? Not that she was complaining. She liked eye candy as much as the next woman.
You’re staring, girl. Get a grip!
Talia’s voice drew her from her speculation. “Come and meet my other husbands.”
What? Husbands? She has more than one?
Talia led her over to the humungous table and introduced her to Chris and James Friess, her other husbands. She had already indicated that Blayk was her husband when she had come into the clinic.
She has three husbands? How the hell is that even possible? And who the hell wants to put up with more than one male?
“Nice to meet you,” Rochelle muttered and hoped her perplexity didn’t show. Then Talia led her over to the head of the table, where three men crowded around another woman.
“Rochelle, these are the Al—heads of the family, Jonah, Mikhail, and Brock Friess, and their wife, Michelle.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Rochelle responded again. Another woman with three husbands? Have I fallen into the Twilight Zone? What the fuck? This went on another two times, and Rochelle wondered if she should get the hell out of Dodge. The room was packed full of males and only a handful of females. Did all the men in this house share their women? She was definitely going to eat and run.
Jarrod had trailed her and Talia around the room. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you seated so you can eat and lie down. You look as if you are about to pass out.” Jarrod took her hand and led her to the other end of the table, where Malcolm and Braxton were seated.
He pulled a chair out for her and then sat beside her. The food was brought in by the housekeeper, Angie, and her daughter, Cindy, whom Malcolm introduced her to, and then he reached for her plate and began loading it with food. B
y the time he was done, the plate was piled high with meat and very few vegetables. It would have fed her for a week if she’d been willing to eat it at all. Her stomach roiled just looking at it.
He really doesn’t think I’m going to eat all that, does he?
When he placed the heaped plate in front of her, she stared at it in horror. She knew she wasn’t wafer thin, but geez, she wasn’t fat either.
When Malcolm picked up his empty plate, she snatched it from his hand, picked up the one in front of her with her free hand, her wrist wobbling under the weight, and quickly put it in front of him. He looked at her with a raised brow and a smirk but didn’t say anything, so she turned away, ignoring him.
Rochelle’s stomach rebelled at the smell of meat. There was no way she was touching anything on the table that had ever had a heartbeat, and she quietly set about placing vegetables on her plate. She began to eat and slowly became aware of the silence which had descended on the room. Looking up, she found every eye on her. Shifting in her seat, she lowered her eyes, hoping they didn’t see how embarrassed she was. When the silence became too much, she looked up and turned her glare to Jarrod, Braxton, and Malcolm.
“What?” she snarled.
“You’re not eating any meat.” Braxton stated the obvious.
“Well, duh. I’m a vegetarian,” she said, glaring at him as if daring him to make something out of it.
Several chuckles, guffaws, and snorts sounded around the table. Rochelle felt her cheeks burn even hotter and lowered her head. Then she decided she didn’t care what they thought and looked up again.
“Do you have a problem with that?” she snapped and looked at the men beside her then on to each man who dared to smile or laugh.
“No, baby, we don’t care what you eat,” Jarrod said with a quirk of his lips. “Neither does anyone else.”
Rochelle caught him glaring at a few of the younger males, and they immediately bowed their heads as if in genuflection. What the hell is wrong with these people? First they share a wife, and now some of them lower their heads as if in submission. Well, it looks like you took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and ended up on Marvin the Martian’s home planet.
But even as she thought that, her body was tingling at the close proximity of Jarrod, Braxton, and Malcolm. Every time Jarrod moved, his arm brushed against hers, sending warm, tingly pulses through her body. Why the hell does my body have to go haywire now? Why couldn’t it have waited another month or another thousand or so miles?
Shifting in her seat to relieve the pressure of her jeans on her aching clit, she heard Malcolm inhale at her other side and turned to watch him surreptitiously from beneath her eyelashes. He leaned in toward her slightly and sniffed, his eyes closing as if he smelled a freshly baked apple pie. A groan from Jarrod’s other side drew her attention, and she looked up to see Braxton smelling the air and looking at her as if he was about to devour her. Can they smell my arousal? No, that’s not possible!
Is it?
“Eat up, baby, then we’ll take you upstairs so you can lie down,” Jarrod said in a deep, rumbling voice, causing her skin to once more erupt in gooseflesh.
“My name is Rochelle!”
Rochelle placed her silverware on her plate. She was done. Her head was throbbing like a bitch, and so was her pussy. She had to get away from them, and she was in too much pain to even contemplate driving anywhere, and she was also starting to feel a little queasy. No doubt because of the pounding in her head and the smell of meat.
“Take her upstairs, now,” Blayk commanded from further down the table.
Rochelle didn’t protest when Jarrod pulled back her chair and helped her to her feet. Nor when he lifted her into his arms and strode out of the room. She closed her eyes and let the drowsiness take over, the slight rocking of Jarrod’s movement nearly putting her to sleep. Rousing slightly when she was placed onto a bed, she didn’t protest when gentle hands removed her shoes, jeans, and sweater. Rolling to her side, she burrowed into the pillow and let sleep claim her.
* * * *
Jarrod couldn’t believe that the beautiful, sassy woman with golden-blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes was their mate. The minute she had opened her car door, he knew Malcolm had been right. Her scent called to his wolf, and he had been battling with his inner beast ever since. His animal wanted to claim its mate, but he controlled it by ignoring the urge to bite.
Sitting on the side of the bed in the guest room of the suite he shared with his brothers, he stared down at her. She looked so pale and fragile, but he knew that was a misconception. From what he had seen so far, their little mate was a feisty little thing and also resourceful. He smiled again and thought about how he was going to explain the damage to the upstairs bathroom to his Alphas and cousins, Jonah, Mikhail, and Brock. He decided honesty was the best policy and hoped they would see the humor in the situation like he and his brothers had.
Jarrod knew damn well every were in the house had heard that crash upstairs and was curious about it, but since he told everyone through the common pack link he and his brothers were investigating, they hadn’t worried too much. He didn’t have a problem covering the cost of the damage his mate had done to the sink, but he wasn’t so sure she was going to be as acquiescent.
She’d already proven she had backbone when she had shoved the plate Malcolm had filled for her at him and then when she had challenged the snickers over her vegetarianism.
He was just thankful she hadn’t glared at his Alphas when she had taken a stand. Unconsciously challenging the leaders of the Friess pack could have ended in trouble. Jarrod just hoped that Rochelle stuck around and after they told her what they were wouldn’t run from them thinking they were crazy. He brushed the hair back from her pale face, inhaling her delectable fruity scent, closing his eyes as his cock throbbed against the zipper of his jeans. They had waited so long for their mate, and he couldn’t wait to start the courting process.
“She is so fucking sexy,” Malcolm whispered from the doorway. He had moved back across the room after helping him make their mate comfortable to sleep. Jarrod knew he was keeping his distance on purpose and wondered why he was torturing himself by remaining so close to her. Braxton was leaning against the wall next to the door.
“Yes, she is.”
“She is probably going to want to leave in the morning,” Braxton said with a sigh. “How the hell are we going to get her to stay?”
“I don’t know,” replied Jarrod. “But one thing is certain. We are going to have to do our best at talking her into staying.”
“Hopefully she’ll feel better after a good night’s rest,” Malcolm suggested. “She may be more inclined to listen once she’s feeling well.”
“God, I hope so.” Jarrod rose to his feet as his brothers exited the room. Giving one last look over his shoulder at the woman who had already changed their lives but didn’t even know it, he slowly pulled the door closed. He was downstairs in his Alphas’ office moments later, explaining the reason for the damage to the upstairs bathroom.
After the laughter had died down, Jarrod handed over a check which would cover the cost of repairs. He didn’t mind doing his part to take care of his mate.
He just hoped she didn’t balk when they tried to keep her around.
Chapter Three
Rochelle woke up feeling a little stiff and sore. She groaned as she stretched, stunned by her bad luck. Why is it that whenever I get an epiphany, deciding to find myself, things always goes awry? God sakes, girl, you are just a clumsy klutz. It’s a wonder I’ve lived long enough to reach twenty-four.
Thinking back over her past injuries and her latest embarrassing incident made her cringe. What must those three sexy-looking men think of me? God, she didn’t think she could face them again without her cheeks turning red.
Well, there’s no use crying over spilt milk, girl. Get up, get dressed, and leave. Yeah, now there’s a plan.
Feeling a little better after making a decision, she sw
ung her feet over the side of the bed and groaned as her still-sore head made its presence known. The pain wasn’t as bad as last night, but she was going to have to move a little more slowly and cautiously than usual. Oh, that should help with my klutz tendencies!
Rochelle had figured out a couple of years back that she often walked into furniture, walls, and just about anything else because she was always in such a hurry. Even when she tried to slow down, objects seemed to jump out into her path.
Chuckling at her vivid imagination, she peeked into the open door off the side of the room.
“Oh. My. God.”
The en suite bathroom was nearly big enough to have a party in. On the far wall was a spa large enough to seat six people. Two sinks were set into the counter with gleaming, elegant, long-necked taps. The shower was a large glassed-in cubicle with shower sprays at intermittent intervals but enough so that at least three people could bathe at once and not miss out on any of the water. To the right she saw another door, which turned out to conceal the toilet.
Why the hell would they need a bathroom this size? Think about it, girl. How many husbands did those women have? Oh yeah. That explains it.
After showering and dressing, Rochelle repacked the bag someone had thoughtfully brought up from her car. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she glanced about, looking for anything she may have left behind as she moved toward the door. Just as she turned back, her shoulder connected with the wooden doorjamb with a loud crack. “Ow!” Dropping her bag and purse, she clutched at her shoulder and went down to her knees. “God sakes, you are such a klutz!”
“Are you all right, baby?”
“Shit, just what I need. Another witness to my clumsiness,” she muttered under her breath. Removing her hands from her body, she slowly looked up. Starting at the black boots, her gaze travelled up denim-encased shins, bulging, muscular thighs, over a hard, flat stomach and pectorals covered in black cotton, and ended up at Jarrod’s startling blue eyes.
