by Jane Jamison
“Bullshit. We’re partners,” added Morgan. “She’ll be our woman, our wife, our mate.” He glared at Damian, daring him to contradict him.
“Fine.” Damian shrugged. “A name is only a name.”
Samuel arched an eyebrow. Were they saying what he hoped they were saying? “Forget what to call her and tell me. Can you see sharing her?”
Sharing one woman had been their goal since they’d first become interested in women. They’d had their fair share of girls then women growing up, but there had always been one constant. Brooklyn had always been around. First as Reagan’s friend and then as their friend and honorary sister. And now? Was it possible? Could she be their mate?
Damian looked to Morgan, obviously waiting for him to answer first.
“Yeah. I could.”
“So it wouldn’t feel weird? I mean, she’s been like our second sister.”
“People change. Feelings change.” Damian dragged a hand along the back of his neck. “I forgot about her as a sister the minute I saw her.”
“She filled out in all the right places, that’s for sure.” Morgan rolled his shoulders. “She grew up and out, including her rack.”
Crude as usual, thought Samuel. But what was the point of trying to change him? Most werewolves couldn’t help themselves, probably because of the animal within them.
“She was a late bloomer, all right. I don’t remember her hair being so thick and wavy. I almost couldn’t keep from running my fingers through it. Didn’t she used to wear it in a ponytail? I don’t recall her eyes being as blue as the ocean, either. Or as captivating. She could pass for a vampiress from the intensity in them. I don’t usually crave women as much as I did her.”
Samuel had felt the same way. He’d experienced a crazy, gotta-have-her sensation that he felt only for women he wanted to take to bed. But this time, the sensation had swirled even higher, hotter. Any thought of her as a friend or pseudo sister was burned away. “So we agree, right? Brooklyn’s the one?”
“Yes.” Damian’s voice was confident.
“Sounds good to me,” added a now-smiling Morgan. “And I’m answering with both my heads.”
Samuel glanced at his friend’s crotch and saw he was telling the truth. “Too much information, man. A simple yes would’ve been better.”
Morgan’s chuckle was full-throated. “Damn, what a fucking pussy.”
“It looks like we’ve agreed. So what now?” asked Damian.
“Why beat around the bush?” Samuel’s eagerness made him feel more alive than he had in years. “We’ve known her forever. It’s not like we’re talking about a human female who knows nothing about us. Let’s go and tell her right now.” He turned on his heel, but he didn’t get very far.
“Hang on.” Damian put his hand on Samuel’s shoulder. “We need to take things slower.”
“What the hell for? I like Samuel’s plan.” Morgan was back to scowling.
“Think about it, guys.” Damian turned, heading for the barn. “Just because we’re all hot and bothered to make her ours doesn’t mean she feels the same way. Hell, she just got back into town. Give the girl time to settle in.”
“I still like Samuel’s idea better.” Morgan passed Damian, intent on getting to his favorite horse, Bullet. The black stallion was as fiery as the werewolf was. When out riding the fields, Morgan and the horse made an impressive sight.
“Of course you do.” Damian settled for polishing the saddle on the rack. “Patience. She’s not going anywhere. Why rush her?”
Knowing he’d probably catch a lot of teasing about it later, Samuel once again spoke the truth of his emotions. “I don’t know how long I can stand not having her. I need her so much I hurt.”
Damn, I’m getting mushy. Or sounding like a pussy.
Yet instead of hurling jokes his way, his friends stopped what they doing and studied him then each other.
“I get what you mean.” Damian placed a hand over his heart. “When I saw her, something strange hit me here.”
“That’s called a heartbeat, you dead piece of meat.”
“Dog Breath, vampires have heartbeats.”
Ah, shit. Don’t let them get going again.
“Easy, guys, keep your minds on Brooklyn.” As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Damian might have a point. “Fine. Just to be safe, we’ll give her some time. Agreed?”
“What if one of his followers decides to make her a bleeder?” The worry in Morgan’s eyes was unmistakable.
A bleeder was a human who offered themselves up to a vampire for nourishment. In exchange, the vampire would transform them into vampires. Most respectable vampires, however, didn’t want the responsibility of caring for a newly made vampire and refused. But a few vampires, those who did as they pleased and didn’t care about human life, took bleeders, used them, then discarded them. The bleeders never fully regained functioning as an independent human.
“She knows the island. Besides, there’s no way she’d ever go for it. She’s not the type.” Damian thrust out his chin. He detested vampires who used humans.
“That doesn’t mean some rogue vamp won’t get it into his head to drink from her.”
Unfortunately, Morgan was right. “Damian, you can spread the word to leave her alone, right?”
“I can and I will, but I can’t promise every vampire will listen.”
He hated thinking of Brooklyn being used, drained, and discarded. Still, maybe they were borrowing trouble. “Go ahead and put out the word. Let the witches and the others know, too. I’ve got to think she’ll be fine. Most folks around here would help her if she needed it.”
“You know she’ll find out. Either Miranda or that mouthy Wicky at the salon or even Reagan will blabber it to her. What do we say when she asks why we said anything?”
Morgan had a point. “We say we’re worried about her. After all, it’s been a few years since she lived here.”
“She might believe that.” Damian went back to polishing the saddle. “At any rate, we give it a few more days. Who knows? Maybe the way we felt was a one-time thing. Or maybe she’ll want nothing to do with us except as friends. Until we know, we play it cool.”
“Morgan?” Samuel tilted his head at the werewolf.
Morgan’s scowl deepened. “Fine. I’ll play along for as long as I can. But there’s only so much you can ask of a werewolf.”
“Okay, then.” Samuel’s mouth was suddenly dry, as though he was thirsting for her and had been denied her sweet juices. The ringing of his phone was a welcome diversion. “Yeah?”
“Hey, it’s Reagan. Are those other two jerks with you?”
He liked the way Reagan called them all kinds of names, teasing them. And how she’d call either one of them and not just her brother. “Yeah. Why?”
“Nothing major. I just wanted to give you cretins a head’s up. I invited Brooklyn out to the ranch tomorrow.”
At the mention of Brooklyn’s name, his breathing picked up and an excited flutter beat in his stomach. Hell, he was acting like a lovesick schoolgirl. “You did?” Brilliant response, idiot.
“Is that a problem?”
“Of course not. But why call and ask? It’s not like you ever had to get our permission before.” Brooklyn had always simply shown up at the ranch, welcomed like any other member of the family.
“I’m not asking. I’m telling. Damn, man, don’t make a federal case out of it. I was being nice by letting you know. See you tomorrow.” She disconnected the call before he could answer.
“Who called?” asked Damian.
Did he really not know? Vampires had a sixth sense sometimes. Glancing at Morgan, he could see that his friend had used his sensitive shifter hearing to listen in on the conversation.
“She’s coming.” Morgan slid his hand along Bullet’s neck. “She’s coming here tomorrow. What do we do?”
If Samuel hadn’t been feeling the same nervousness, he might’ve laughed at the big tough werewolf’s anxiousness. “We
act like nothing has changed.”
“But it has,” argued Morgan.
“I know. That’s why I told you to act as though it hasn’t.” But could he do the same? When he saw Brooklyn again, would he be able to control himself? Did he even want to try?
* * * *
Brooklyn rested against the porch step. The stone against her back was a little painful, but she didn’t mind. She’d sit on hot coals if that’s what it took to watch the men.
I was right. Even as a kid, I knew they were the ones.
Growing up on the island meant she was aware of ménage relationships. Even the tourists could see that West End was different. A few of them were offended once they realized why there seemed to be at least two men for every woman, but for the most part, tourists looked upon the residents with curiosity. Besides, what was a little threesome coupling compared to the stories of witches and shifters?
Morgan had a light hand when it came to dealing with the horses. She’d seen him help a horse birth a colt and had marveled how such a strong man could be so gentle. He’d whispered soft words of comfort to the startled foal. At least until he’d caught her watching him. To others, he was the epitome of a werewolf. He was strong, impetuous, ready to fight at the slightest provocation. But she knew better. Instead, he was the perfect example of a softhearted teddy bear. A teddy bear that was more than capable of ripping a man’s head off his shoulders. She studied his muscles flexing in his arms, happy that he’d decided to wear a sleeveless shirt opened all the way in the front. Dark hair covered his massive chest with a thinner trail of it sliding downward to disappear beneath the dip in his jeans.
She held back a sigh. If she didn’t, Reagan would never let her forget it.
Samuel sat on top of the railing, his attention fixed on the horse Morgan was attempting to saddle train. If she knew him as well as she believed she did, Samuel would try to get Morgan to let him use magic to calm the animal down. Morgan would refuse, and Samuel would back off—for a while, anyway.
Being a wizard meant Samuel had inherent magic in him. Not only could he use spells from the books of wizards but he had a natural magic. Although he preferred to use his skills whenever he was alone or with the other men, she’d seen him spellbind tourists for the fun of it, claiming to be a master magician using tricks. He was often serious, yet he had a humorous side she found endearing. As kindhearted as Morgan and Damian, he’d go out of his way to help wizards, shifters, and yes, even the occasional witch, although witches weren’t very fond of wizards.
His blond hair was in stark contrast to Damian’s and Morgan’s dark hair. The blue eyes and rounded face gave him a boyish look she’d seen him use to his advantage when flirting with girls. Yet even then, he’d sometimes stop flirting and turn her way to shoot her a quick smile. Long and lean, he was a strong man dressed in his usual attire of worn jeans and untucked T-shirt. His was a different kind of strength than that of Morgan’s. Although still a brawny man, he used intelligence more than instinct in the few times he’d had a physical altercation. Usually, he was the one who’d break up a fight rather than start one.
And then there was Damian. She shifted her gaze to the vampire. Every so often he’d look toward the sky and the bright sun overhead as though scowling at a pesky insect. He’d already been out in the sun for two hours, and she could sense his patience wearing thin. Soon, he’d have to get inside the house and out of the hot rays. If he stayed outside longer, he’d become ill and need to stay in the dark for weeks until he recovered his strength. Too much sun, however, could kill a vampire. He, too, was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, yet on him the clothes seemed different than on Samuel. No matter what he wore, Damian appeared well kept and refined as though ready to sit down at a dinner party. His coal-black hair glistened in the sunlight as he leaned closer to a jittery horse and whispered in its ear. Suddenly, the horse stopped prancing.
Was he using his vampire persuasion to calm the horse? What would it be like to have him whisper in her ear? Would he command her to do anything he liked? Wouldn’t she love to obey?
“Wow, I remember you having it bad, but you’re flat-out drooling. Get a grip, will ya?”
Brooklyn had forgotten that Reagan was sitting nearby. She began to deny the truth then decided it wouldn’t work. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Sure is. I can see it as clear as the nose on your face.” Reagan stood and wiped her hands on her jean shorts. “And I can see it on their faces, too.”
“They barely noticed when I drove up.” Yet hadn’t the three of them lifted their hands in greeting and smiled as she’d joined Reagan on the porch? But they’d always done that. In fact, they acted as though she was still Reagan’s friend, just another kid hanging around the ranch.
“Oh, bullshit. Hell, they’ve been sneaking looks at you for the past hour.”
Brooklyn peered up at her friend, knowing the truth yet not daring to accept it. “No, they haven’t. They’re too busy to pay attention to me.”
“Wow. I don’t know who’s more delusional, you or the guys. You four are head-over-heels in lust. If I got out of the way, they’d carry you into the barn and fuck your ass.”
“Damn, Reagan, go ahead. Say what you think.” She darted her gaze to the ground. Nothing much embarrassed her, but talking about the men did. Even with Reagan. “Wait a sec. What did you say? That we’re in lust? Not—?” Being in lust was a good thing, but not as good as being in love.
“Not love? Who cares what you call it?”
I do.
“Lust, love, whatever. It’s obvious they want you and you want them. Why no one’s making a move is a mystery to me.” Reagan abruptly sat back down. “Hold up. I know you want them, but do you really want them? I mean, as in a lifetime of wanting them?”
“You know the answer to that. Seriously. Do you think I only want them for their bodies and, once I’ve had them, I’ll forget about them? I haven’t been able to get them out of my head since, well, forever. You know I want them.” She’d kept her voice low in case Morgan was using his shifter hearing.
“Then is the problem because of what they are? Are you afraid you can’t handle being with them in every way?”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” Was her friend purposely making the conversation difficult to lower her guard? Or did she think she was against supernaturals? She glanced at the men, caught them glancing her way, and averted her gaze.
“Are you afraid of getting involved with a werewolf, a wizard, and a vampire? After all, it’s a strange combination of mates. Personally, I’d rather have three of the same kind, especially werewolves.”
Reagan was right. Life would be easier if all three men were the same thing. “You can’t choose who you’ll love. Besides, there are others around town with mates who are different. Like werebirds and werecats sharing a human mate. Considering how much werebirds detest werecats, that’s even stranger, but it still happens.”
Reagan rested her elbows on the step above where she sat and leaned back. “True enough, but those unions aren’t easy. And you’re not answering my question. Is what they are a problem? With you being human and all?”
“Of course not.” Her lifelong friend questioning her hurt her feelings. Yet she couldn’t believe Reagan had meant to insult her. “After all, you’re a werewolf, but I hardly notice most of the time.” The best way to get Reagan to change the subject was to get her laughing. “Except when you roll in the mud for no reason at all.”
Sure enough, Reagan enjoyed the joke. “Hey, what can I say? A good mud hole is hard to resist.”
“Is it as hard to resist as a good bone?” She’d once given Reagan a large cow bone for her birthday, not realizing that a werewolf would take offense to such a gift.
“Watch it, girl. I am no dog.”
“So I shouldn’t buy you a box of dog biscuits for your birthday?”
Reagan playfully shoved her. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. We are not cha
nging the subject. So, if you’re not bothered by taking on three supernaturals, not to mention hard-headed supernaturals, then what’s the problem?”
She shrugged. The men had finished their work with the horses and were leading them back inside the barn. “Well…” Should she tell Reagan the real reason? Or would her friend think less of her? Werewolves didn’t like seeing weaknesses in anyone except their enemies. “I guess I’m kind of afraid.”
“Afraid? Of them? Shoot, they’re harmless. Besides, if they ever hurt you, I’d skin them alive and they know it.”
She had no doubt her friend would try. “As much as I want to, as much as I’d planned to, now I’m really nervous about putting myself out there.”
“That again?” Reagan stood up again. “So are you going to give up before you even try?”
“No.” Yet her voice didn’t sound as confident as she’d hope.
Reagan, however, wasn’t about to let her get away with wimping out. “Okay, that’s it. I’m taking over.”
“What? Shit. What are you going to do?” She boosted onto her feet as the men came out of the barn and headed toward them. “Reagan, stay the hell out of this.”
“No way. No how.” Reagan lifted her arm and drew their attention. “Hey, guys, who wants pizza? I’ve got six frozen ones I can heat up.”
Asking Morgan if he wanted to eat pizza was like asking a bear if it wanted a barrel of honey. His face lit up, and he started to run.
“Hang on, brother. I haven’t even heated up the ovens yet.” Reagan whirled around, moving as quickly as her werewolf brother. “Better get out of the way, Brooklyn, before they run you over.”
She didn’t have to be told twice. The one time she’d failed to move fast enough she’d ended up getting swept into Morgan’s arms. It was either that or get run down. At the time, she’d protested, hating that her friend’s brother had picked her up as though she’d weighed nothing. As though he’d thought of her as a kid needing to be rescued. Of course, she’d been only eleven years old at the time and had definitely needed rescuing. Now, however, halfway to the door, she wondered if she should stop and let him sweep her off her feet again. She’d definitely have a different reaction this time. By the time she’d made it into the large airy kitchen with its white cabinets and butcher block counters, the men were almost on top of her.
