by Becca Van
He sat down on the side of the bed, slipped an arm beneath her neck and shoulders, and held the glass to her lips. She closed her eyes and sipped until she’d had her fill. Just as he placed the glass back on the bedside table, his brothers entered the room.
“How are you feeling, baby?” Jarrod came over to the bed.
“Fine, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replied and turned to look at Braxton.
“How is she really?” he asked through their mind link.
“Our little mate is very tired. She woke up in a lot of pain, so I called Blayk and he gave her another shot of painkillers.”
“Good,” Malcolm said from his position against the far wall. “She hasn’t said anything about staying?”
“She’s been asleep all day,” Braxton answered. “But Blayk told her she had to rest for a few days. I don’t know if she will though. I think we should tell her what we are and what she is to us.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. She may think we are crazy and take off,” Jarrod replied.
“How the hell else are we going to make her stay?”
“Our mate needs to get to know us better before we tell her about us.”
“Okay, agreed. But we have to talk her into staying until she’s fully recovered. That will give us about six days for her to get to know us,” Braxton stated.
“What are you doing?” Rochelle asked, drawing his eyes to her.
“Uh, we just…”
“Are you telepathic? ’Cause it looked like you were all talking to each other without actually speaking.”
All three of them froze. Braxton was the first to recover. “Fuck! How the hell are we going to get out of this?”
“Tell her we are,” Jarrod said.
He cleared his throat nervously. This was going to go over like a ton of bricks. “Yes, we are, darlin’.”
Her eyes widened. “No way!”
Braxton exchanged a look with Jarrod. “Way,” he said to Rochelle.
She examined him critically, as if looking for some outside sign of his telepathy. She examined Jarrod and Malcolm in the same way. Braxton tried to come up with some way out of this.
Then she said, “Wow. That is way cool. Are you triplets or something?”
Rochelle was gazing at them with a combination of awe and curiosity. This was not the freak-out Braxton had expected.
Malcolm answered, “No. But we are pretty close. We like to share. Everything.”
Rochelle crossed her legs as if settling in for a good story. “So when did you find out about your ability?”
“We’ve had it since we hit puberty,” Jarrod answered.
“You can’t read minds, can you? Are you empathetic?”
“No, darlin’. We can’t read minds or feel what others feel.” Braxton saw her shoulders slump as if in relief. Her eyes moved from him to Malcolm and Jarrod and then back to him again. When she wiggled on the bed, he caught a waft of her desire. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, and his wolf pushed against him, wanting to claim its mate. Clenching his teeth, his pushed his animal back down, asserting his dominance.
God, how he wished he could assert his dominance over Rochelle. First he would strip her clothes from her delectable little body, and after he had tasted her mouth he would lick his way down until he came to her pussy. He would lap up her cream until she came and then do it again and again.
When he opened his eyes to look at her she gasped and her jaw dropped open. He curled his hands into fists and felt that his fingernails had changed slightly. She pushed up from the bed with her good arm, keeping her injured one close to her chest, and sat on her knees in the middle of the bed.
“Your eyes have changed. They are a glowing gold color. How do you do that? God, they look so pretty.”
“Go, Braxton. Now!” Jarrod commanded through their link.
“No, wait,” Malcolm said as he moved away from the wall, walking closer to the bed. “Let’s see how she handles this.”
“How are we going to explain that we can change our eye color?” Jarrod queried.
“Just tell her it’s part of being a telepath.”
Braxton cleared his throat while trying to wrest control of his wolf. His voice came out a little deeper and gruffer than usual, but at least it wasn’t a garbled growl. “It’s part of being a telepath, darlin’. Most of our family members have the same ability.”
“Way cool. Is that why you all live together, so the general public doesn’t realize what you can do?”
For a moment, Braxton couldn’t do anything except stare at his mate in astonishment. Not only was she not scared of their abilities, she was thinking about how they fit into the way the pack lived together.
His desire for her mingled with a kind of awe. This was what it was like to have a mate, he realized. She was perfectly suited to them.
“In a way,” Brax answered her. “We are a very close-knit family, Rochelle. We all like to live and work together. Each set of siblings and family unit have their own suite of rooms. We have lots of privacy, but we can also mingle when we want.”
“That must be so nice.” She sighed wistfully, glancing over to Malcolm and Jarrod. “How come your eyes aren’t glowing, too?”
“Our eyes only glow when we have to concentrate really hard, baby,” he answered, and Brax saw his brother’s gaze run over Rochelle’s bare legs and his nostrils flare as he inhaled her scent. If he kept that up, his eyes would be glowing pretty soon. Brax himself was only just in control of his wolf. Jarrod suggested, “Why don’t I run you a bath? Or would you prefer a shower?”
“As much as I would love to soak in that giant tub, I think it’s going to have to be a shower. I want to wash my hair.”
“Okay,” Brax said, moving toward the bedroom door. “I’ll go and get a plastic bag so we can tape it to your arm. You have to keep that bandage and your stitches dry.”
And I’ll have an excuse to get out of here. He headed for the door before he even heard Rochelle’s reply.
In the hallway, he stopped, breathing deeply. Now that he couldn’t smell her desire as much, he could pull himself together.
It astonished him that Rochelle had accepted that they had strange abilities. Their little mate was a little quirky, but it worked to their advantage.
Braxton looked down at his hands and at the claws that were only now beginning to recede into his fingers. He hoped that Rochelle would be just as calm about the fact that she was surrounded by werewolves.
Because they were going to have to tell her soon. Braxton’s wolf couldn’t handle another second of this torture.
Chapter Five
Rochelle ogled Braxton’s ass as he left the room, and her pussy clenched with arousal at such a damn sexy sight. She looked up to see Malcolm and Jarrod staring at her heatedly.
Quickly lowering her eyes to the quilt, she traced a pattern on the material and shifted into a more comfortable position. She caught a hint of musk from her wet pussy as she moved and hoped like hell they couldn’t smell her desire.
Glancing up at them again from beneath her lowered lashes, she saw them still staring at her with golden glowing eyes. She was so fascinated she lifted her head to stare back. Jarrod inhaled and groaned as he closed his eyes. The muscles in his jaw were clenched and his hands were fisted. Malcolm seemed to have the same problem. As much as she wanted to scamper from the bed and enclose herself in the bathroom, she didn’t want to move again in case they really could smell her wet vagina.
Movement near the door drew her attention and she watched Braxton walk toward her. He had a plastic bag and tape in his hands, and she reached out for them gratefully.
“I’ll help you wrap up. Are you going to be able to shower by yourself?”
“Yes. I’ll manage,” she answered while he taped the plastic to her arm.
“We’ll be back to escort you down for dinner.” Braxton rose to his feet. “We have some things we need to do before we
can eat. Just yell if you need help.”
The three men left without a backward glance, and she relaxed for the first time since she had woken to find herself draped all over Braxton. God sakes, girl, you need to get a grip.
The shower was awkward, but she managed to wash, dry off, and dress. It would have been a lot easier to ask for help, but she had never been naked in front of a male before, and she wasn’t about to start showing her body to strangers now. Yet she had to admit that she was intrigued by the lifestyle she’d glimpsed in this house. She wanted to know why all the couples weren’t couples at all but were ménage a trois or ménage a quatre. It was the kind of arrangement she’d only ever read about in books, but what she wouldn’t give to be part of such a big, close-knit family. What she wouldn’t give to live that fantasy with Jarrod, Malcolm, and Braxton.
Rochelle would never dare ask any questions, but she was definitely going to watch the ménage members interact. Michelle, Keira, Talia, and Samantha seemed to glow from the attention their husbands bestowed on them. They had to be in love with the men in their lives. What woman would marry or hook up with more than one male if they weren’t?
Rochelle had listened to the women she worked with bitching about the men they were either married to or in relationships with. Even though the married females had said they loved their husbands, they always managed to complain about something their men did or didn’t do.
There was no way in hell she was getting into a relationship with a man unless she was certain she held his heart as much as he held hers. She had seen what happened to the children from broken and dysfunctional families or unwanted pregnancies. No way was she subjecting a child to what she had gone through.
A loud growl from her stomach made her realize she had skipped lunch. She was hungry and didn’t think she could wait much longer for the three men to return to escort her down to dinner. She was just pondering whether it would be rude of her to go down by herself when she heard a snarling sound coming from outside the door to the suite. It sounded like a rabid dog was on the other side.
Just as she reached for the door handle and pulled it open, she heard a terrible snarling sound and Malcolm’s voice as he pushed on the suite door. Looking down, she jumped at the sight of a large wolf in the house. In her hurry to get away from the beast, she tripped and began to topple.
There was nothing she could do. She yelled as the edge of the solid wood door slammed into her forehead before she could dodge it. Blackness formed before her eyes in little pinpricks, and she felt herself swaying on her feet. When her vision cleared, a worried-looking Malcolm stood before her with his hands on her arms, keeping her steady. Looking down when she heard another growl, she stared into the glowing golden eyes of a wolf. She tried to pull away so she could back up, but Malcolm still held her arms.
“Fuck!” Malcolm exclaimed. “Are you all right, honey? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you were at the door. I was too busy growling at Braxton and didn’t catch your scent. Get out, now!”
“What?” Rochelle asked breathlessly, still a little dazed from the knock to her head. Malcolm was looking at the wolf angrily and then turned back toward her when it left her sight.
“Are you okay? Shit. Blayk!” Malcolm didn’t give her time to respond.
He scooped her up into his arms and ran for the stairs. Blayk met them halfway, and Malcolm told him what had happened.
“Look at me, Rochelle,” Blayk demanded.
Shifting her eyes to him, she let Blayk check her pupil responses. “She doesn’t have any lasting effects, but she’s starting to bruise. Get her into the dining room and we’ll put some ice on her head.”
“I’m right here you know. You can talk to me,” she said belligerently.
Malcolm carried her the rest of the way downstairs. “I am so damn sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Let’s get you seated and we’ll get some ice.”
Rochelle hid her face against Malcolm’s neck as he carried her into the dining room. The conversations happening around the room ceased, and she just knew everyone was looking at her again.
Malcolm sat down and placed her on his lap. She sniffed against his skin and felt heat permeate her body. God sakes, he smells so good. Without thinking about what she was doing, she opened her mouth and licked the side of his neck. Yep! He tastes as good as he smells.
The body beneath her hardened, and a groan rumbled against her side. Rochelle gasped when she realized what she had just done. Could you be any more geeky or obvious? How the hell am I going to be able to look him in the eyes after what I just did? Now it’s definitely time to get back on the road.
“Here’s the ice pack,” Blayk said from behind her.
“Rochelle, look at me, honey,” Malcolm said.
She kept her face lowered, shook her head slightly, and tried to burrow into him.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, honey,” he whispered in her ear. “I would love to taste you, too. Now let me see your head. I don’t want you to bruise or swell. Shit. Every time I look at you I am going to feel guilty for hurting you.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” She finally lifted her head. “I always manage to get in the way or hurt myself. I’m just so clumsy.”
“Fuck! You have a bruise already.” Malcolm frowned. “Lean back against me and let me hold the ice to you head.”
Rochelle did as he commanded and sighed as the slight throbbing began to recede.
“Are you okay, Rochelle?” Jonah asked.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I’m fine. I’m always getting hurt somehow. Don’t worry about it.”
“We do worry about you, baby,” Jarrod said as he sat beside them. “You always seem to be in such a rush. You need to slow down some, Rochelle. You won’t hurt yourself then.”
“I know. The nuns used to say the same thing.”
“Nuns?” Braxton asked as he sat on her other side.
“I grew up in an orphanage,” she answered quietly so the other people in the room wouldn’t hear. Not that she was ashamed of her upbringing, but she didn’t blurt out her life history to all and sundry.
Rochelle hesitated, realizing that her history was relevant, in a way. She hadn’t told the brothers that she’d never so much as been naked in front of a man before, much less these three.
How would they react when they realized what a prude she was? That was what her roommate had called her, at least. She’d been called frigid, too. Although being called such names hurt, she hadn’t been about to sleep with just anyone. Rochelle would be the first to admit that she’d gotten her sense of right and wrong from the nuns who ran the orphanage. Her female acquaintances were into drinking too much alcohol and having one-night stands. Rochelle had learned to respect her body. She had gone out with them a time or two, but when they had left her alone to hook up with men just to get laid, she had left and gone home again. Having sex just for the sake of it wasn’t her thing, and being treated like a piece of meat by the opposite sex was just downright revolting to her. The nuns had instilled such a strong moral code into her she wondered if she would ever let any man touch her.
But she didn’t feel at all frigid around these three men. She was so hot that she was all but melting. It confused the hell out of her, but it excited her, too. Never had she been drawn to men as she was to the three Friess brothers. She felt so strongly about them, and even though she hardly knew them, she knew she was in danger because of these feelings.
Why couldn’t you be attracted to one man instead of three, girl? God sakes, what am I going to do when I have to leave?
“You’re here now, that’s all that matters,” Malcolm stated.
She smiled at him, her thoughts moving backward. He’d said something weird a moment ago… “What did you mean about growling at Braxton?”
She felt Malcolm tense and looked up at him. He wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Braxton and Jarrod again. They had to be doing that telepathy thing again. God sakes, how fantasti
c would it be to communicate without others hearing your conversation?
“You’re doing it again. Aren’t you?”
“What’s that, darlin’?” Braxton queried.
“You know. The telepathy thing,” she answered quietly.
The conversations, which had resumed around the dining room, ceased once more. When she looked up, every eye was on her again.
Malcolm rose to his feet, taking her with him. He walked out of the dining room without a backward glance. When she looked over his shoulder, Jarrod and Braxton were following. They looked grim.
What the hell have I done now?
Malcolm entered the living room and sat on the large sectional sofa, once again pulling her onto his lap. He glanced up at Jarrod and then Braxton, and she could tell by the expressions on their faces that something serious was going on.
Did they want her to leave? She would, if that’s what they wanted. But the thought of not being near the three Friess brothers caused sharp pain to pierce her chest.
God sakes, Rochelle, why did you have to come to care for them so quickly when no other man has ever gained your interest?
Chapter Six
Jarrod hadn’t expected Jonah to command him to tell his mate what they were. But he had interrupted when he and his brothers had been communicating privately. They had been debating whether to tell Rochelle what they were when she had mentioned their telepathy again.
His cock was rock hard and had been since the moment he had inhaled her scent. It was a constant battle between him and his inner beast for control. And even though he won, he didn’t know how much longer he could continue this way. But they needed to tell Rochelle what they were and let her decide if she wanted to stay with them.
“What’s going on?”
“First of all, I want to know how you’re feeling,” Jarrod said as he looked her over with concern.
“I’m all right. My arm is a little sore and so is my head, but otherwise I’m fine.”
