by Gale Stanley
Urban Affairs 4
Hiding His Wolf
Half-breed Werewolf Levi York hides his shifter identity while he works as a bouncer at Hot Rods, a leather club that features slave auctions. When Noah Levy goes on the block, the wolf-shifter recognizes the human as his missing friend. He tracks the buyer, Simon Black, and initiates sex to get close to Noah. Guilt-ridden, Levi tries to justify a very real attraction to the man who owns his friend, but he can't reconcile his feelings. There's definitely chemistry between them, but Simon is the adversary who stands between him and Noah.
Levi is right to be wary. Simon is hiding his real identity. He's a federal agent, and he's using Noah as Werewolf bait. But Simon is having second thoughts. He never expected to fall for the prey—and the bait. Now, he's determined to help both men—but first he has to convince Levi to trust him.
Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 35,943 words
HIDING HIS WOLF
Urban Affairs 4
Gale Stanley
MENAGE AMOUR
MANLOVE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour ManLove
HIDING HIS WOLF
Copyright © 2012 by Gale Stanley
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-134-3
First E-book Publication: December 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to my publisher and the awesome staff at Siren, who have made this journey such a wonderful experience.
HIDING HIS WOLF
Urban Affairs 4
GALE STANLEY
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Hot Rods, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
A tangible sense of excitement built and intensified as the time for the last slave auction drew closer. Already, a large group of anxious men had gathered around the low, makeshift stage, asking questions and admiring the slave waiting for his turn on the auction block. The bidding took place in a private room at the club, and the bouncer, Levi York, stood at his post by the door, ready to check the ID of any latecomers. He kept one eye out for trouble and the other on the proceedings across the room.
What’s so special about this man?
The previous four auctions had featured extremely attractive men, but Levi knew management always saved the best for last, and he wanted to see the goods for himself. Shifting position, he peered around the bodies taking up space between him and the platform.
A heavy curtain of long hair hid the slave’s face as his head dropped forward. The slim blond seemed oblivious to all the attention surrounding him. Levi figured the man had to be exhausted after all the preparations a slave had to endure before being sold. No doubt Blondie had gone through the usual routine--enema, waxing, and bath before being oiled and locked into the studded leather harness with attached cockstrap. A two inch metal cockring insured that every time the man moved, there was a tug on his junk. It made his erection look enormous.
The slave broker reached out and roughly yanked on the slave’s prick. The blond’s erection grew even thicker and longer, causing an excited outpouring of catcalls and wolf whistles from the crowd. The broker, a big, stony-faced motherfucker, stood to one side allowing the potential buyers to inspect the merchandise. After a few minutes, the broker pulled on the chain that was attached to a studded leather collar around the slave’s neck. It took a few tugs until finally, the slave turned to show off his back. A butt strap was connected to a D-ring on the back of the harness, keeping an inflatable butt plug firmly in place. The contraption had locking buckles to ensure that the harness would stay on until his new Master unlocked it.
The bidders ate it up. They were salivating and circling like vultures. Some of the men were forward enough to pinch the slave’s nipples, and a few brave souls went right for his ass and stiff dick. The blond moaned. He didn’t seem to mind the attention or the groping hands massaging his most private parts.
Levi York held back his own moan as he watched. His inner wolf, a predatory animal, was positively drooling at the sight of the smaller, submissive man. The randy beast raked claws along Levi’s gut, urging him to take the slave himself.
Down, boy.
Rolf, his embodied animal spirit, didn’t understand. Levi could never afford a slave, and interrupting a sale was a good way to get himself killed. He fumed, angry at himself for allowing his wolfish nature to take the upper hand once again.
Wolf-shifters were extremely sexual creatures. That physical side of him could not be denied. But in Levi’s experience, sex was enormously complicated. His big muscular frame shouted top, and most men who were interested in having sex with Levi expected to be fucked—hard and fast. Levi’s aggressive wolf was happy to oblige, but sometimes his human nature revealed a submissive need to be dominated by a strong male. Levi’s pheromones had an annoying habit of responding in different wa
ys, depending on his particular partner at the time. And sometimes the energy would shift between him and his lover midstream. If his dominant partner went a little soft, his own dominant side would start to prickle and his wolf would push the boundaries. Levi’s lover might push back and retain his dominance, or the energy might shift and Levi would have the other man restrained in no time. The majority of his partners were weirded out by this exchange of sexual energy. They didn’t want to blow Dr. Jekyll and end up getting fucked by Mr. Hyde. They wanted and needed more set boundaries for a given scene. Unfortunately, in some ways Levi was a slave himself—a slave to his pheromones. He couldn’t make any promises.
It was next to impossible to have the best of both worlds—at least for him. Maybe some men could manage it, but for a shifter who wanted to keep his identity a secret, nothing came easy. He felt like a split personality, a dichotomy with qualities that were just too different to merge into one complete person. Unable to reconcile one side of himself with the other, Levi grew more and more agitated. He took a deep breath and with a huge force of will tried to settle his wolf. He definitely should not be working at Hot Rods, a club that catered to the gay leather scene. The clientele, both submissive and dominant, tempted him beyond reason, but what choice did he have. Jobs were hard to come by—
Fuck!
The broker was pumping the bulb attached to the boy’s butt plug with a steady pressure. Those things were curved especially to stimulate the prostate gland when inflated, and from the way the slave was moaning, it was evidently doing its job. Fucking bidders. They always wanted a show. They had to be sure they were buying a responsive submissive who would come on cue.
Every nerve ending in Levi’s body sparked, and he couldn’t force himself to turn away. As one of the bouncers, Levi was supposed to be keeping an eye out for trouble, not watching the auctions. But like a rubbernecking driver who slows down for a glimpse at a ten-car pile-up, he couldn’t stop himself from looking. What the hell, trouble didn’t seem likely tonight. The club members were too focused on the new submissive meat to think about starting any fights. It was getting close to the last auction, and somehow the night had gone by without any major displays of drunken-asshole behavior. It was almost like the calm before the storm. Levi kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The owner, Rod Kirby, didn’t host these slave auctions very often, but when he did, a huge crowd always showed up and the bidding was fierce. The sales were very popular. A contract was usually short-term, a week or maybe a month at most. If both parties were happy at the end of that time, they could renegotiate and extend the time period. If not, the slave might end up here again. Any man who had the urge to dominate or the desire to serve would find someone to meet his needs at Hot Rods.
Levi knew all that, but it didn’t matter. He still had a love-hate relationship with the auctions. Kirby was a shady character, and Levi wondered if the sales were legit. But he was only here to provide security, nobody gave a shit about his opinion, and obviously most of the guys were here because they wanted to be. For some, being sold filled a very real need to serve. Some believed they were special because someone was paying money for them. What Levi saw was a naked boy on the auction block with all his dignity stripped away. What rights did a slave have if the Master who bought him wasn’t his type? Did the slave go through with it anyway? Did he have a choice? A week with someone he couldn’t stand would feel like a life sentence to Levi. He just didn’t get it. Normally he could put those feelings aside, but tonight, for some reason, this particular auction had him tied up in knots.
He kept his thoughts to himself. He’d been lucky to find this position as a bouncer. Kirby didn’t require a social security number or references, and he didn’t ask any questions. If you proved yourself to be a man who could handle trouble, that was all his boss cared about. Levi knew he fit the bill. His attitude and appearance—six foot two inches, two hundred and twenty pounds of muscle—got him a job providing security in this sometimes-rowdy leather club. He’d learned how to scan everyone and everything around him in an unobtrusive manner. He started with the hands. When he couldn’t see a man’s hands, warning bells went off and he suspected a concealed weapon. Time and again, he’d proved himself a competent fighter with fists, boots, pool cues, and knives. Yeah, there’s no substitute for experience. Having dealt with his own shitload of fights increased the odds of getting the upper hand when some asshole was trying to stomp his brains to mush or gut him with a shank.
Just thinking about fighting fired up the belligerent Rolf. Levi took a deep breath to calm his wolf and inhaled a cloud of second hand smoke. His eyes watered as he started coughing. Smoking was allowed in the back rooms and that fucking cigar-chomping asshole, Kirby, was the biggest offender of them all. Chalk up one more reason to hate working at Hot Rods. He’d quit on the spot but he had too much to lose.
For the first time in his life, Levi had a nice apartment and a few possessions that he wanted to hang onto. More important, every time he had to look for a new job or a new place to live, he risked having someone discover his real identity.
Exposing his secret life would make him fair game for human bigots. It would be tough to find a new job, and he’d be hounded by the Feds, who kept a close eye on shifters. Even his own kind could be a threat. Keeping his nose clean and doing whatever the boss wanted had become second nature.
Blending in with humans wasn’t too difficult because he looked like them. Still, Levi’s large frame and intense dark-gold eyes made it a little harder for him to keep a low profile. Humans were so damn suspicious. Their hatreds were so pervasive—religious, sexual, political, social class—they had developed hatred to a fine art. Idiots, they were afraid of their own shadows. He tried to keep all contact with humans to a minimum—except for sex of course.
Life in a Were ghetto would not be any easier. On the plus side, there would be no secret identity to hide. He could be himself, shifting whenever he felt like it. But it was no utopian society. Wolves couldn’t be trusted any more than humans. The Were Resistance didn’t tolerate half-breeds. Having a human mother put a big target on Levi’s back. It was best to tread a fine line between the two species and avoid discovery and all the crap that came with it.
Levi, dressed in bouncer’s black, stood by the door and tried not to think about the main event. He forced himself to concentrate on his job, checking the arrivals, scanning the bar and looking out for trouble. The crowd looked rough, but so far they were behaving. Tonight’s event was by invitation only, and anyone who caused trouble would not be invited back. Levi knew most of the customers by sight. Many of them lived an alternative lifestyle, something outside the so-called norm, and they felt at home here. It could be BDSM, a polyamorous relationship, or even furry fandom. Levi laughed to himself. He knew a few role-playing guys in that subculture who would kill to get their hands on him if they knew he was a Werewolf. Furry sex didn’t float his boat. He preferred fucking in his human form, but if one of those human fur-freaks captured him, they’d expect him to play big, bad wolf. He’d be locked up, and his captor would throw away the key. It was just one more reason for a Were to keep his identity a secret.
Suddenly, loud voices caught his attention, and Levi’s wolfish instincts went on high alert. Every hair on his body stood erect. He smelled trouble, and his head snapped around looking for the source. Off to his right, two men were arguing over a third. Levi took a step toward them. One of the trio saw him approaching and said something to the other two. All three men quieted down and moved off toward the bar. Levi went back to his spot by the entrance. Sometimes a look was all it took to stop a fight before it even got started.
Levi was well-paid to keep the peace in Hot Rods—the main areas anyway. The private playrooms, equipped with benches, crosses, suspension devices, cages, and all manner of equipment for bondage play, were monitored electronically. The bar looked like any other leather bar. The dress code was black, and the emphasis was on leath
er, metal, and sadistic symbolism. Paintings of masculine-looking men in fetish gear hung on the walls, along with metal collages. This totally masculine side of homosexuality was in evidence here in the auction room as well.
Suddenly, a late arrival attempted to push past Levi, and he turned, ready to put the newcomer in his place.
Damn!
Joe Manganiello’s twin stood in front of him. A Werewolf’s wet dream. Levi’s mouth went dry. The man was at least six five, and his biceps were like boulders. Dark-brown waves framed a strong, stubbled jaw, giving him a rough and rugged appeal that plenty of other men strived for but couldn’t attain. Levi found himself staring. Christ, he was drooling. He wiped an arm over his mouth. This was his problem in a nutshell. One second he was salivating over a blond twink, the next he was sporting a boner over a super-masculine stud.
The stud cleared his throat, bringing Levi’s attention back to reality. He should ask for identification, but damn, he couldn’t get a word past the lump in his throat. The Werewolf look-alike was a big man, not roided out, but physically intimidating, even to a real Werewolf. And it wasn’t just his size. The man gave off an air of authority. Unlike most of the other men who were decked out in leather vests, jocks, thongs, and shorts, this man wore an immaculately cut suit, white shirt, and tie that screamed wealth and power.
Businessman or criminal? Maybe both.
