by Becca Van
“Blayk has advised that you stay here until you’re completely healed. Are you going to do that?”
“I’ve thought about it, and the rest will do me good. I can’t promise anything, but I think I can stay for a few days.”
“Okay. But let me tell you that we would really like you to stay until you have healed. We would worry about you if you left beforehand. You were injured on our property, and we feel responsible for your injuries. In fact, we would like it if you stayed a lot longer.”
Rochelle laughed and then sobered quickly. “You can forget about feeling responsible. I’ve always been a klutz. It doesn’t matter where I go or what I’m doing, I always seem to find a way to hurt myself.”
“You need to stop rushing everywhere, sweetness,” said Malcolm. “You are in such a hurry to get where you’re going you don’t see what’s in front of you.”
“I know,” she sighed.
“We have something we need to tell you, Rochelle.” Malcolm shifted her on his lap until she was resting with her back against his arm and shoulder but could still see Jarrod and Brax. “I want you to listen without interrupting, and then if you have any questions, we will answer them. Just remember that we would never hurt you. Okay?”
Rochelle eyed Malcolm warily and then turned her gaze to him and Braxton. Brax was sitting next to him on the large coffee table in front of the sofa.
“You have seen our eyes glow and you know about the telepathy,” Malcolm began to explain. “What you don’t realize is that we haven’t told you everything.”
“We care for you very much, darlin’,” Brax said and reached for one of her hands.
She opened her mouth to answer, but Jarrod said, “No. You need to let us explain.”
Taking a deep breath, he reached for her other hand and looked at Malcolm as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The last thing Jarrod wanted was for his mate to panic and run away. First, she could end up with another injury, and as far as he was concerned she had far too many already. Secondly, he wanted Malcolm to restrain her in case she became hysterical.
Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and took the plunge.
“We are werewolves, Rochelle. And you are our mate!”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her mouth snapped closed, and her breathing escalated. Malcolm pulled her in tighter against him, offering her comfort as well as keeping her from running.
Jarrod could smell her nervousness, but he didn’t scent fear. That was something at least.
“W−What? What are you t−talking about?”
“Don’t be scared, darlin’. We would never harm you,” Brax reiterated.
“B−But there’s no such thing as werewolves.”
“We are living proof that there is.” Malcolm hugged her tighter. “Brax, why don’t you show her?”
Braxton rose to his feet and moved away from the coffee table. When he began to undo the buttons on his shirt, Jarrod heard Rochelle begin to pant. He wasn’t sure if it was because she was nervous or turned on. Using his wolf senses, he sniffed the air and held in the grumbling growl forming deep in his chest. Their little mate was as aroused as she was scared.
* * * *
Rochelle couldn’t believe what these three men had just told her. She thought she was the one who was a little eccentric, but they took the cake.
What the hell are they on? Suddenly she questioned her acceptance of their so-called telepathy. Yeah, they seemed to be able to communicate silently, and their eyes did change color, but how much was she expected to believe?
Why did I say I would stay for a few days? What am I going to do?
When Braxton rose to his feet and began to remove his shirt, she thought maybe they all had a screw loose. Yet she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the bulging muscles or the tanned skin he revealed. He was a sex god. His skin was a bronzed color, and she wanted to walk over to him and run her hands over his flesh. Cream leaked from her pussy and dampened her panties. Her nipples hardened and her breasts swelled.
Shifting her body only reminded her that she was sitting on Malcolm’s lap. Heat penetrated through her clothes, causing her body to warm even more. A hard bulge was poking into her hip, and she didn’t have to look to see what it was. Squirming again, she tried to move her body away from his hard cock.
“Shh, sweetness, you’re safe with me,” he whispered in her ear.
Yeah, that may be, but who’s gonna keep you safe from me? Shit! I did not just think that.
Braxton’s hand tugged at the button on his jeans, and then he slowly eased the zipper over his erection. Licking her lips to moisten their dryness, she watched avidly, not wanting to miss a moment. God, I feel like I’m gonna come. His hands moved to either side of his hips, and he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the denim. She looked up and nearly melted from the heated, hungry look he pinned her with. Take a few deep breaths, girl. You have to stay in control. They are a little crazy even if they are all sex on legs.
No! Don’t even think that. They are very nice men who have offered you a place to stay for a few days. Nothing more!
Then why did it feel like her heart would be ripped out when she left?
With slow deliberation, Braxton pushed his jeans down. His body was pure male perfection. She exhaled in a rush, which sounded more like a whimper than a breath. Braxton’s cock was huge. Long, hard, and thick, it jerked slightly with every beat of his heart. Glancing up again, her gaze connecting with his, she stared deeply into his eyes. They changed from their normal color to a glowing gold. All of a sudden, the lines of his body began to blur and waver. His nose and mouth began to elongate, and he knelt down on the floor until he was on hands and knees.
Rochelle covered her mouth and watched with fascinated horror as the muscles in Brax’s body shifted and undulated beneath his skin. Terrible cracking and popping sounds resonated through the room as his form began to change. Just when she was about to push away from Malcolm and run, the noises stopped.
Standing before her, where Brax had been, was one of the biggest wolves she had ever seen. When he moved toward her, she squeaked and pushed back into Malcolm. Malcolm was speaking to her, and even though she understood every word, she couldn’t have replied had her life depended on it.
“It’s all right, Rochelle. We are still the same men we were before. We would never harm you, sweetness. Don’t be afraid.”
Is he for real? Of course I’m afraid. This sort of thing is fiction. Legend and mythology. This is not happening.
“Breathe in and out a few times, baby. Relax, don’t be frightened,” Jarrod said in a calm, soothing voice.
Braxton stopped in front of her. He was standing so close she could feel his warm breath through the denim of her jeans. As she stared at him, the fear she had been feeling slowly eased, and awe took over. This shit is fantastic! How is this even possible?
Without her permission, one of her hands reached out hesitantly toward the large wolf. She jumped when he chuffed in the back of his throat. She began to withdraw, but he moved closer and placed his large head beneath her hand. She rubbed his soft, silky fur, and a deep, satisfied rumble spilled from his canine mouth. With a nervous giggle, she reached toward his back and threaded her fingers into his fur. Using her nails, she lightly scraped them over his skin. He arched his back and rumbled with pleasure.
Slowly he moved back, and she scratched behind his ears before he pulled away completely. Standing clear of her, he stood completely still and stared at her. Once more the noises his body made as he changed caused her to cringe, but moments later he was back in his glorious, naked human form. With graceful ease he rose to his feet and began to re-dress.
“H−How is this even possible?” she stammered.
“Our father was a werewolf, baby,” Jarrod explained. “The werewolf gene has been in our family for many generations. It goes back too far for us to be able to trace, but we only know that every male born into this family has the L
ycan gene and we are all able to turn into wolves once we hit puberty.”
“Does that mean that everyone who lives here is also a werewolf?”
“Yes, sweetness,” Malcolm replied. “All the males can change into a wolf.”
“Do the women change as well?”
“No,” Braxton answered. “As far as we know there are only four women in the entire world who can change into a wolf. One of those women lives here with us.”
“Who?”
“Keira,” Jarrod responded.
“You said the males had the werewolf gene. If that’s so, then how come Keira is a werewolf?”
She watched cautiously as the three men looked at each other. Even though their eyes didn’t change color, she knew they were talking to each other. The signs were there in their body language.
“I’m not sure you’re ready to hear that yet, baby,” Jarrod said.
“I asked, didn’t I?” Rochelle looked at them expectantly. She heard Malcolm sigh and looked up to see him nodding at his brothers.
Braxton moved back to the coffee table and sat down next to Jarrod. Jarrod reached for her hand and threaded his fingers with hers. Leaning down, he kissed the back of her hand, and she felt another gush of moisture leak from her pussy. Malcolm groaned, and she looked up to see him sniffing the air with his head thrown back and his eyes closed.
Oh shit! No, he can’t, can he? She looked back at Jarrod and Braxton and saw them sniffing the air, too. Oh. My. God. They can. They can smell my wet cunt. Well, they are werewolves, Rochelle, of course they can scent you.
Looking down so she couldn’t see the desire in their eyes, she asked, “Well, are you going to tell me how Keira ended up a werewolf?”
“Keira was shot and mortally wounded. The only way to save her life was to turn her,” Jarrod explained.
“How?”
Braxton shifted, drawing her gaze, and he reached for her free hand. “Darlin’, we don’t change humans to werewolves unless it’s absolutely imperative. It’s too dangerous and very violent.”
Malcolm leaned forward slightly and gently cupped her chin so she was looking at him. “We have to savage the human we are changing. In wolf form, we rip through the flesh and bite into organs. From what we have learned through generations, the Lycan gene needs to be embedded deeply so it can be taken into the human’s body. There is no way of knowing if the person will survive the attack. That’s why we don’t do it. Keira was at death’s door and unconscious when she was changed. She didn’t feel any pain.”
Rochelle felt her eyes widen, and her breath was panting rapidly through her lips. What the hell have you got yourself into, girl?
“Take deep breaths, sweetness,” Malcolm said, brushing his thumb over her cheek repeatedly.
Finally her breathing evened out and she became aware of the tension in the room. Were they scared she would become hysterical? Even though her equilibrium was off kilter, she had never been the type to get frenetic. Rochelle’s brain began to work at warp speed. She had so many questions and knew they would probably answer most if not all of them, but the most prominent one formed on her lips. And then the words Jarrod spoke previously ran through her mind.
You are our mate.
“What’s a mate?”
Jarrod’s voice caused her to turn back to him.
“A mate is a wife.”
“W−Wife?” she squeaked. “Do you mean to all of you?” She then licked her dry lips as she awaited the answer.
“Yes, baby. You are the mate of Malcolm, Braxton, and me.”
Oh fuck!
Chapter Seven
“No. No. No,” Rochelle mumbled and then pushed off Malcolm’s lap. He let her go, worried she would become even more frightened than she already was. Sniffing the air, he revised his opinion. She was more shocked and aroused than afraid.
“What are you afraid of, sweetness?”
“I−I…uh, shit.”
“We would never force you do to something you didn’t want, darlin’,” Braxton said quietly.
“This”—she began waving her hand in the air toward them—“th−this can’t be happening.”
“What can’t, Rochelle?” Malcolm asked, rising from the sofa. He slowly walked toward her, careful not to make any sudden moves.
“I can’t be a mate,” she answered.
Jarrod and Braxton both stood and made their way in her direction. She didn’t back away, and that gave Malcolm hope.
“You are unequivocally our mate, baby,” Jarrod avowed.
“How do you even know that?”
“We knew it the moment we scented you, darlin’,” Brax explained. “Our wolves caught your fragrance and have been pushing at us to claim you ever since.”
“Claim me?”
“We want to make love with you, Rochelle. And our wolves want to bite you and mark you as their own.”
“Bite me?”
“Shh, sweetness, come and sit back down and we’ll explain it all to you,” Malcolm said calmly and reached for her hand.
“No. I’m fine where I am.”
Malcolm knew that she felt safer with her back to the exit of the living room. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and hold her, but she obviously wasn’t ready for any more affection from him.
“When a werewolf claims his mate, it’s usually while making love to his woman,” Jarrod explained. “Our canine teeth lengthen and we bite into our mate’s flesh. From what I’ve heard it’s not painful, but our DNA is transferred to the female, binding her to us and us to her. You would have enhanced senses, and you would heal more rapidly than the average human. Once we are mated we can’t be apart from our mate too long. If she ever left after the mating mark and bond are made, then the mates would eventually die.”
“So I wouldn’t…she wouldn’t become a werewolf?”
“No, darlin’,” Braxton answered.
“Are all the women here mates?”
“Yes, Rochelle. Except for Angela and Cindy,” Jarrod said. “Angela was good friends with our Alphas’ mother, and when her husband died she was offered the position of housekeeper. She lives here now in her own suite of rooms with her daughter.”
“Why don’t we all go finish our dinner?” Braxton suggested. “You didn’t get to eat any lunch, and we can hear how hungry you are.”
“Okay,” Rochelle replied, then turned and headed toward the dining room.
Jarrod caught her before she could go. “Now I have a question for you.”
“And what might that be?”
“Will you stay here with us until you are completely healed and then give us two weeks to get to know you better?”
Rochelle took her time before answering, and Malcolm knew his brothers were waiting with bated breath for her answer as much as he was. Their body language said it all. Jarrod’s jaw muscle was ticking and Braxton’s hands were fisted, but to anyone who didn’t know them, it would have looked like they were waiting patiently.
“Okay, I agree.”
Malcolm exhaled quietly and felt the tension ease from his taut muscles. That was a start.
* * * *
The howling of wolves made Rochelle look up from her book. Alone at the kitchen table, she shivered and reached for her coffee. Both Jarrod and Braxton had gone out for a run after dinner, saying something about needing to let their wolves loose. They’d invited her to watch, but she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. A little time by herself with a cup of coffee and a book was helping her settle her thoughts.
This all seems so surreal. It’s like I’m living in a waking dream. Not only did her men turn into wolves, they were her mates. They wanted her to stay here with them forever.
Rochelle asked herself if she was ready to give up her carefree lifestyle. She had no plans aside from continuing her cross-country road trip. But the idea has lost some of its appeal since coming here. She’d been out on the road because of a sense that she was missing something in her life. Well, perhaps she�
��d found it.
But why did they have to be werewolves? She wrinkled her nose. Why couldn’t I have been claimed by some nice herbivores? Imagining her sexy, dominant men as deer or sheep made her giggle.
“What are you chuckling about?”
Rochelle’s breath caught as Malcolm strode into the room. He tossed his empty beer bottle in the bin.
“Nothing,” she said, annoyed that her voice came out in a squeak. “Want some coffee?”
“No thanks.” He retrieved another beer from the fridge. His gaze stayed on her as he cracked the top and took a swig.
Another howl came from outside. Rochelle shivered at the lonely sound. Her attention was on the darkness beyond the window, and she was startled when Malcolm said, “It’s us unmated males who do all the howling, you know. All our lives, we’ve waited to find our mate.”
He means they’ve waited to find me. Rochelle swallowed as Malcolm came over to the table. He pulled out the chair next to hers and sat.
“I used to imagine what our mate would look like,” he said.
Feeling self-conscious, she curled a strand of hair behind her ear. “Were you right?”
He shook his head slowly, smiling a little. “Not even close. Turns out I don’t have a very good imagination.”
They’d hoped all their lives to meet her, Rochelle thought, but she hadn’t had all those years of imagining her perfect men, not outside of daydreams. “Tell me about you,” she blurted out. “I don’t feel like I know anything about you or your brothers.”
“What do you want to know?” Malcolm toyed with the beer. Rochelle watched his long fingers, imagining how they’d feel on her skin…Girl, snap out of it.
She took a sip of coffee to buy herself time. When she put it down, the words leapt out of her mouth before she could stop them. “How did Jarrod get that scar on his face?”
Malcolm’s expression hardened. Dammit, why can’t you learn to keep your mouth shut?
“Unless you don’t want to tell me,” she added quickly.
He softened ever so slightly. “No. It’s okay. Better you ask me than him. He doesn’t talk much about it.”
