by Jenny Penn
Cookie didn’t hesitate. She parted her lips and took a nibble, which elicited her own grunted expletive. That gave her the confidence to tease him. That’s just what Cookie did as she savored her meal, licking down his length slowly despite the frantic pound of the cock swelling even larger within her cunt.
The other man didn’t want to be left out of that rhythm. His hand tightened in her hair as he took command of the situation and forced her all the way down. Cookie sucked him in eagerly. Tightening her lips down around his dick, she began to pump her head up and down, matching the furious pace set by the man fucking her from behind.
It was a wild ride that had her straining for a release within minutes. Then it detonated, and the world went momentarily black before lighting up with the most glorious display of fireworks. Cookie felt at one with the rapturous explosions as a bliss too perfect for words consumed her.
It was only the beginning.
Chapter 6
Cookie woke up the next morning alone and in a tangle of sheets. Her body felt used in a way that was purely delightful, and she couldn’t control the smile that spread across her face. The supernatural did exist. Better yet, it knew how to leave a woman satisfied.
That thought had her giggling, and she curled into a tight ball, trying to hold on to the sparkly happiness bubbling up inside her. She needn’t have bothered. The joy and sense of adventure that blossomed with the rising sun didn’t fade as she finally rolled out of bed and headed for the shower.
The hot spray of water ignited a fresh flush that only grew hotter as she remembered the shower that she’d shared with her two lovers last night. They’d turned simple bathing into a sensual massage that had her coming once again. Cookie had come so many times last night she was surprised to feel her cunt swelling and thickening with renewed desire.
She wanted them again.
Something warned her that would never change. That kind of pleasure was addictive. So what? Cookie lived for the thrill of adventure. Now she had a quest, to find out everything she could about her two shadowed lovers.
They’d said the mating had just begun. That was certainly true, but what her men didn’t know was that Cookie was taking command of the flaunting. She was on the hunt, and they were about to learn just how good a researcher and hacker she was.
That thought had her smile growing mischievous as she finished up her shower, not giving in to the urge to put to rest the ache growing in her cunt. That was their job, and she intended to hunt down her two lovers and put them back to work.
First, though, she had to get to work. More importantly, she didn’t want anybody spying on her from the shadows. Dressing in a pair of shorts and a tank top, Cookie returned to the main room and shoved open the curtain, flooding the room with sunlight until not a single shadow remained. Then she pulled out her laptop and got down to work.
It was arduous work, mostly because there was way too much information, a good deal of it useless. The rest had obviously been fabricated. It wasn’t until Cookie dug beneath the modern-day lore that she found what she was looking for in the old Native American tales of the eternal flame that had burned for centuries out in the rocky little island centered in the middle of Boomer Lake.
The island had once been a forested paradise, protected by the wahy’a, the wolves. It was said that when the flame went out it scarred the land, leaving it barren. The wahy’a had never returned but had faded into the shadows, where they lingered, restless and dangerous.
Nobody knew what had happened, but Cookie had a sick sense she knew. Something whispered through her as she read about the many legends that had grown out of the mystery, but one in particular spoke to her more than the others. It was authored by a local, Theresa Navel. Cookie needed to have a word with her.
Before she took off, though, Cookie took the time to try to identify her mystery lovers. It wasn’t hard given their distinctive descriptions and the fact that they were both well known and photographed frequently. Ryder Chea owned a list of casinos almost as long as her arm. He was rich. Real rich.
So was Khal Sani, her gray-eyed seducer. He ran a more respectable antique business along with an auction house, but that didn’t make him more appealing to Cookie. Just the opposite. His clientele were just the type of people she fought against.
It wasn’t just her. Cookie had more than a few relatives sitting in jail, though their crimes tended to be more political in nature. Still, technically, she was a thief. A Robin Hood. The last thing Cookie aspired to was wealth.
Wealth not only corrupted, but it also attracted the worst kind of groupies. From the pictures on the Internet, her men enjoyed groupies. Ryder, in particular, had a thing for models. Those pictures had her brow furling into a frown as she felt a sudden, primitive need grip her. It prowled like a caged beast, leaving her feeling anxious and suddenly quite hot.
Time for breakfast. A big, meaty breakfast.
Cookie knew just who she’d have liked to make a meal out of. That thought had her lifting a hand to the bite marks on her neck, and Cookie slid off the bed to go stare at them in the mirror. She was well aware of generalized stories about werewolf bites but still wasn’t convinced that either man had that much magic in him. There was no denying, though, that the bites were healing fast.
Just about as fast as she was burning through sunlight.
Sucking in a deep breath and meeting her own gaze in the mirror, Cookie silently assured herself she wasn’t crazy. If she did turn into a werewolf, she knew just who she’d bite. The only question was where?
That put the smile back on Cookie’s lips, and she turned to pack up and hit the road.
* * * *
Ryder sat in the field of wildflowers, feeling silly as hell. The sun had fallen below the mountain’s ridge, casting the valley into the early afternoon shade. It was, no doubt, a romantic scene, but the truth was Ryder didn’t normally romance his lovers, and flowers were not his thing. Big, tall, sulking hotties, on the other hand, were.
Ryder glanced over at Khal, who appeared to be crushing all the flowers he was yanking out of the ground. The man looked absolutely ridiculous and totally out of place. He also looked kind of pissed, and Ryder could easily guess what had Khal all riled up, which just made it all the more fun to taunt him.
“I don’t think bouquets are supposed to have roots dangling off the end of them,” Ryder called out.
That earned him the same response Khal had given him all day long—a dark glare.
“If you got something to say then…”
Ryder waited, but Khal refused to speak, as if he didn’t already know what was bothering the other man. Khal was pissed that he’d intruded on his night with Cookie. That was just too damn bad because Ryder wasn’t going anywhere.
He didn’t figure that arguing over that fact would get them anywhere. This was one of those fight-it-or-fuck-it-out moments, and Ryder didn’t do men. He just enjoyed taunting Khal with the thought that he did.
Taunting Khal sounded like a hell of a lot more fun than picking flowers. Tossing aside the crumbled-up mess of flowers in his fists, Ryder rose up to his feet and dusted off his knees before he let the shadows recede, leaving him naked. It took Khal a second to notice that fact, but when he did, he immediately started backing up.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Khal demanded to know, breaking his angry wall of silence.
“What do you think? It’s obvious that you think I took advantage of you. So, I’m just offering the chance for payback.” Ryder smiled, reaching down to grasp his cock in a hard fist and give it a stroke. “Want a taste?”
“You son of a bitch,” Khal whispered, and then he was charging.
Ryder barely had a chance to brace himself before Khal took him down with roll.
* * * *
Khal didn’t know what he was doing. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He was pissed and tearing into Ryder, but it did no good. He could try to pound him into the ground all day long, but
it wouldn’t get him anywhere. He was still stuck with the bastard.
That was the real problem.
That was the real reason he hated Ryder, the reason part of him had always sort of resented Mayla. How could she have fallen in love with that jackass? The man was a womanizer. Hell, women would have paid him to fuck them. Of course, they didn’t need to because Ryder was always available for a quick ride.
Khal was so jealous.
Not that he’d ever had a problem attracting the ladies, but nobody had ever tipped him. Khal told himself that didn’t matter. The reason women didn’t pay him was because he did what he wanted. He was the master. He was the one in control. He didn’t dance on command for any woman but Cookie.
He knew just how she’d feel about him tearing into her precious Ryder. That was just why this was a trap. No doubt, Ryder planned on playing on Cookie’s sympathies and putting Khal into the dog house, or getting rid of him altogether.
That would not happen.
Two could play at this game. So, Khal did something he’d never done before. He threw the fight. He let another male win, pointedly taking enough damage that Cookie would think he was the victim. Or, at least, he tried. Ryder seemed to catch on, though, and started pulling his punches until they were engaged in the most ridiculous of slap fights.
“Okay, enough.” Khal held up his hands, deciding to be the noble one. “You win.”
“Bullshit!” Ryder glared over at him. “This was a tie, so don’t even think of running and crying to Cookie, or I’ll tell her how you started it.”
“I didn’t start it. You did, last night,” Khal shot back. “And here is another clue, you ever touch me again, and I will rip your arms off and beat you with them.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
Khal growled, his fist clenched at his side and aching to take a swing. This wasn’t good. He needed to pound something into the ground. Something that didn’t fight back.
“I’m going hunting.” With that declaration, Khal turned his back and started heading across the field toward the woods.
“What about the flowers?” Ryder hollered after him, but Khal just ignored him. He couldn’t help but notice that Ryder was following him, though.
He did his best to pretend like the other man wasn’t there, but as they both shifted into wolves and trod into the forest, they intuitively started working together to bring down Cookie’s dinner.
* * * *
Cookie pulled into Teresa Navel’s narrow drive and eased her bike down the pitted patch of dirt slowly. She brought the machine to a stop behind the large, gray Buick parked under a tent somebody had erected as a carport. It sat under the shady branches of a wide-spread oak. That oak curved out and around the small, white-planked wood house that held a charm and more than a hint of poverty.
The same could be said about the woman who came to a stop on the edge of the front porch to watch Cookie kick out her kickstand and kill the engine before hopping off the bike. She waited, though, to call out a greeting until after Cookie had pulled off her helmet and tucked it onto the back seat.
“Afternoon,” the old woman called out in clear and strong voice that stood in stark contrast to her frail and thin frame. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“I’m looking for Teresa Navel.”
“And you would be?” The old woman eyed her with curiosity as Cookie came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, not daring to go up them without an invitation.
“I’m Jean Smith, and I’m looking for the woman who wrote about a collection of Native American stories regarding the eternal flame.”
That had the woman straightening up as her gaze narrowed on Cookie. “Is that right?”
“I was hoping, Mrs. Navel, that you could provide a little more detail about the tale than you did in your writings,” Cookie pressed, knowing she’d guessed right about the other woman’s identity by the quick smirk that tugged on her lips.
It faded as her eyes dipped down to the bite marks still darkening Cookie’s shoulders. Then they hardened as her words were breathed out with shock and fear. “You’ve been bit.”
Cookie swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”
“They’ll never let you go now, girl.” Mrs. Navel shook her head at Cookie. “I can’t help you.”
“I’m not looking to escape,” Cookie assured her. “I’m looking for information. You clearly have some.”
Mrs. Navel hesitated, obviously torn, and Cookie pushed her advantage with a soft and sincere plea.
“Please. I just have a few questions.”
Mrs. Navel frowned but slowly nodded. “All right then, but best we go for a walk in the garden. It’s sunny there.”
“You think…we’re not alone?” Cookie hesitated over her words not because that was a strange question to ask but because she was certain they were alone. Mrs. Navel, however, was not so easily convinced.
“You’re marked,” Mrs. Navel informed her as she came down the steps, holding tightly to the railing with each one. “You’ll never escape them. No matter where you go, they’ll find you.”
Cookie didn’t waste time asking who she was talking about. Instead, she focused on what Mrs. Navel had revealed as she followed her around the house to where a large vegetable garden sat wrapped in fencing.
“What do you mean, marked?” Cookie paused as Mrs. Navel fumbled with the gate’s latch, waiting for the woman to gesture her in before pressing on. “You’re talking about the bites, aren’t you?”
“They’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time. They’ll never let you go now.” The gate clanked closed on that ominous bit of news.
“Who are they?”
“Yeenadlooshi. Skinwalkers,” Mrs. Navel clarified as she began to slowly stroll one of the well-trod paths, her gaze drifting over her plants as her voice took on a whimsical tone. “It is said that the great God Malsumis, the wolf god, fell in love with a beautiful maiden and took the form of a man to seduce her.”
“And she bore him a child,” Cookie guessed, easily seeing where this tale led.
“She refused to name the father.” Mrs. Navel came to a stop to glance up at Cookie and pin her with a hard gaze. “So, the great god Malsumis had his revenge. He sent an army to see to it.”
“An army? An army of yeenadlooshi?”
“Mmm-hmm.” Mrs. Navel nodded. “They slaughtered the entire village and lit the eternal flame in the middle of it as a symbol of Malsumis’s everlasting love. Not only for his woman, but his men as well.”
“Then how did the light go out?”
Mrs. Navel shrugged. “Because that’s what flames do. Love isn’t any different. Legend says that it was love that killed the flame, actually.”
There was something so sad in Mrs. Navel’s tone that Cookie ached for her. For her and herself because she was afraid of what came next but couldn’t turn away from the question that had to be asked.
“How?”
“It was said that a beautiful girl named Mayla was torn between two powerful alphas. She loved both men.” Mrs. Navel frowned and shook her head. “That never ends well.”
“It didn’t for Mayla, did it?” Cookie already knew the answer but had to hear it.
“She took her own life to stop her men from taking each other’s.” Mrs. Navel paused as a frown passed over her features. “It’s actually kind of selfish if you think about it. She forced the men who loved her to live their lives without her instead of enduring living her life without them.”
That was like a punch in the gut. Cookie wasn’t sure why she took Mrs. Navel’s observation so personally. She just knew she did. She also feared that she knew what had happened to the men.
“The men, the yeenadlooshi, skinwalkers?”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Navel shrugged and turned back toward her garden. She started shuffling back down the path as she shook her head. “Call them what you want. They’re not to be messed with.”
Cookie already knew that, too. What sh
e’d come here for was a little more information, a little more helpful information.
“You’re afraid of them, aren’t you?” Cookie asked that as she followed behind Mrs. Navel, easily catching back up. “You think they’re evil.”
“Not hardly,” Mrs. Navel returned dryly. “But only the stupid poke something that powerful and think they’ll get away with it. Of course, I suspect you have much to worry about, though I’m not sure they could say the same.”
Cookie stiffened up at that side comment. “What do you mean by that?”
Mrs. Navel came to another stop and turned once again to confront Cookie. “I’m sure this is just real exciting to you. Some kind of adventure you’re on, but there is no future for you. Only the past.”
“I’m not Mayla.” Cookie straightened up, deducing exactly what Mrs. Navel meant.
“Hmm.” Mrs. Navel eyed her. “How do you know who you are? How do any of us? All we can possibly know is who we were yesterday. Today? That’s a matter of living life itself…and you don’t always get to choose that path. Sometimes it is chosen for you.”
“I am not Mayla!” Cookie insisted, feeling almost desperate now. “And my men aren’t going to kill each other.”
“So naïve.” Mrs. Navel sighed and shook her head. Then she turned back to her plants and stared at them sadly. “Flames die, child, and yours burned out a long time ago.”
That bit of pessimism irritated the crap out of Cookie. Her flame wasn’t dead. It had only just ignited. Whatever she felt for her two shadowed lovers, the heat and passion they shared would never diminish. In fact, it only grew as the minutes ticked by. She needed them again, was aching in a way that she never had before.
Cookie wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Navel that. Instead, she thanked at the older lady. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Have I?” Mrs. Navel smirked. “Have I saved you? I don’t think so. I think you’re still headed straight toward temptation.”
That she was. Cookie smiled. “Who said I wanted to be saved?”
