by Mina Carter
Wynter nodded. The performance reports contained some stills, so she flicked through them. Big was right. All Vesuvian weredogs were, but Rennick was possibly the biggest she’d ever seen. They were mean as fuck on the battlefield. Perhaps she’d gotten lucky with this assignment after all.
“Just the one? Or is Camden as well?”
“Nah, Cam’s a wolfhound type. Fast as all hell though.”
The pilot flicked open a comm channel as the maw of the Nemesis’s landing bay opened in front of them. “Control, this is India-five-seven-nine on final approach for landing. We have minor wounded, so requesting medics on standby.”
“Roger that five-seven-nine, you’re cleared for bay seventeen. Medics on standby. Bring her in nice and gentle if you would please, we’ve only just managed to hammer the dents out of that bay from a hot landing last week.”
Wynter sat back to let the pilot do his thing. Despite her relaxed sprawl in the co-pilot’s seat, her mind rolled with activity as she flicked through the rest of the squad’s information. As she read, the smile on her face spread. The squad was full of reprobates and hardened veterans, all dogs. She flicked the screen off and sat back as the runners hit the deck in bay seventeen, a sense of satisfaction and glee surging through her.
When her father found out she was kicking it back with weredogs, he’d have kittens.
Chapter Two
The only thing on Cam’s mind as he and the rest of the squad poured out of the back of the troop transport was getting himself and Ren into the showers as quickly as possible. First because his stomach was as sticky as all hell and second because the climax Ren had stroked him to was nowhere near enough to calm his raging libido.
“Hey, what’s the hurry, Cam?” one of the guys shouted from behind him. “Anyone’d think you had a hot date!”
“Screw you, Perez.” Cam twisted to flick the bird as he clattered down the boarding ramp. Ren’s deep chuckle told him that the bigger man, now clothed, had caught the gesture.
“You fucking wish, Camden. I’m way too much man for you!”
“Ignore him. He’s just jealous…” Ren stopped in his tracks as their unit commander, Major Cooper, appeared at the doorway in front of them. Since they’d lost their combat sergeant last week, the corporal’s stripes on his arm meant Ren was it when it came to chain of command. He stiffened up, his deep voice ringing around the bay. “Form up, officer on deck!”
Even though they were tired from battle, and in some cases bleeding, the weredogs scrambled into formation: three straight rows, an arm’s length between each dog, with Rennick in front at attention.
“Very good, at ease.”
The major strolled forward. His gaze swept over the troop in appraisal, and then he smiled. Approval radiated from him like heat from the exposed pipes that ran under the corridor grills throughout the ship. No need to shield them when they could be used to heat a monster like the Nemesis.
“I know you’re just back shipside from the field, so I promise not to keep you long—” His grin spread wider at the collective sigh of relief that whispered through the unit. A dog himself, Cooper hadn’t been driving a desk long, so he knew what it was like. “I’m aware that you guys have been flying solo this past week since Travis ended up in med-bay, and I’m proud of you all for keeping it together. Now, I have both good and bad news. I’ll go with the bad first.”
Cooper’s face dropped, solemn, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Unfortunately Sergeant Travis will not be rejoining the unit. His injuries proved too severe for him to return to front-line duty, so he’ll be transferred out to long-term rehab.”
Cam released the breath he’d been holding since the words “bad news” had crossed the major’s lips. He’d been expecting Cooper to tell them that Travis had succumbed to his injuries. While the fact that he wasn’t coming back was a bit of a kick in the bollocks, it was infinitely better than hearing the ornery, old sergeant had bought the farm.
The question remained though, were they going to promote Ren to combat sergeant finally? Cam’s gaze slid sideways, touching on the broad shoulders of his lover. Ren didn’t want it; Cam knew that. They’d argued over it time after time, with Cam urging him to put in for the promotion. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the experience, but Ren always argued he was a front-line sort of dog.
Cam turned his attention back to the major, listening with baited breath. Were they finally going to take the decision out of Ren’s hands and promote him anyway?
“That being said, there is now a vacancy for combat sergeant, so I’d like to introduce you to your new lead…”
Cam started to grin. This was it. They were going to promote Rennick. About fucking time.
“Combat Sergeant Ferris.”
What the fuck? Who was Sergeant Ferris?
The sound of booted footsteps rang out behind them, from the direction of the troop transport. Cam frowned. There hadn’t been anyone new in the transporter, not that he’d seen anyway.
He made the connection just as the female form passed by in his peripheral vision. Of course. The female voice on the fish-guns as they came in. Nice voice, cute. Shit, he’d called her “doll.”
Cam tried not to let the stunned look show on his face as she came to a halt next to Major Cooper and turned to face the squad. This was their new combat sergeant? Around him, the rest of the mostly male squad perked up. Backs straightened as nearly twenty sets of eyes zeroed in on the newly named Sergeant Ferris.
She. Was. Hot.
No, hot was not the right word. Fuckably hot, totally fuckably hot, was nearer the mark. Less than average height, she verged on petite, with a slender, curvy little build that just begged for further exploration under the uniform. And if the body was a leveller, then the face was a knockout. Her dark hair was pulled back at her nape to reveal high cheekbones and a pair of feline-set green eyes positioned over the cutest button nose he’d ever seen. Then there were her lips. Full, pouty, kissably soft… Yeah, his brain took a little joyride right there.
The enviro-controls switched the direction of the fans in the bay, those behind the major and sergeant kicking in. Cam dragged a deep breath in, savoring the slight scent of perfume that must have been from the weekend gone still coming through her pores…
Fuck. She was human.
What the hell were they doing putting a human in with a dog squad? She wouldn’t last five minutes before one of the alphas claimed her and fucked her silly. And as humans broke way too easily, that meant that they were back to square one, without a combat sergeant.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, and just for a change, fuck.
“Thank you, Major.”
Oh God, even her voice was hot—soft, with a husky edge that had his dog sitting up and taking notice. Cam wanted to melt into a little puddle on the deck just hearing it. If she wanted to play with dogs, then that was cool, he’d play fetch all right. He’d fetch her right into his bed and roll over so she could rub his tummy…and other things.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. As the major has informed you, I’m Sergeant Ferris, and I’ll be your new combat sergeant.”
Even though her voice was soft, it was pitched to carry, easily reaching Cam on the back row. She looked along the lines, meeting the eyes of each and every dog in the squad.
“Since you all have an excellent sense of smell, I won’t bother with the bullshit. You’re all aware that I am not a weredog. Which means I’m not as strong, or as fast, as any of you.”
Cam kept his face impassive as her gaze reached him. He had to give it to her; she had balls to list her shortcomings up front like that. There was no nervousness about her manner, or trepidation as she looked at them.
“Now, if you think that gives you leeway to fuck me about, think again.” Her voice hardened, the expression on her face more so. She looked every inch the experienced soldier the stripes on her arm said she was.
“I didn’t gain three stripes by being a pussy. I’ve sixteen years hard-b
attle experience in shitholes you lot would have nightmares about, and there isn’t a trick in the book I don’t know about or haven’t tried. There is just one thing you guys have to remember. I know how quick you guys heal. So fuck me about, and no matter how fast you are…” She took a few steps forward, looking right up into Rennick’s face. Then she smiled. “A bullet’s faster.”
* * *
“So what do you think?”
Cam tried to pitch the question nonchalantly as he and Ren headed for the showers. The barracks had been abuzz with chatter about the new combat sergeant, the new female, human, combat sergeant, since they’d gotten back from the loading bay. Half the squad was already in love, while the other half had decided that she wasn’t going to last more than a week before getting herself killed.
Perez, as usual, had proclaimed she was in lust with him and would be in his bed and impaled on his cock before nightfall. His boasting had been cut off when Dolly, the blow-up sheep, had hit him on the back of the head. Normally an inflatable sex toy was pretty harmless, except when thrown by a shifter. Perez was now in the med-bay with a concussion due to a sex-toy-related injury, something the squad wouldn’t let him live down for at least a month.
Ren shrugged, his towel slipping from one broad shoulder onto his arm. He paused to hang it on a hook then stripped off. Cam took longer, slowing down to enjoy the view as Ren’s hard, soldier’s body was revealed in all its naked glory.
“She’ll do.”
Cam blinked. “Wait. What?”
He’d been expecting something derisive—some caustic comment about pretty little human women getting hurt when they tried to play with the big boys. Dogs. Whatever.
Ren turned to spear him with a dark gaze. “Ferris. She’ll do. Are you getting naked sometime today or what?”
“Er, did you miss that she’s human?”
Curious, Cam trailed Ren into the shower. He wasn’t so curious as to miss the chance to ogle the bigger dog’s rear. God, the man had an ass on him. Firm and tight enough to crack nuts between the cheeks. Heat flooded Cam’s body again, his dick punching to full mast in a heartbeat, leading the way like a damn solar flare.
“Nope.”
Ren stepped into one of the larger cubicles and punched buttons, setting the water temperature. With Rennick being squad corporal, he’d been delayed in debrief, so there were just the two of them in the showers now. Not that Cam cared. It just meant that they got less shouts to get a room.
“Nope, you didn’t miss that she’s human?” Cam all but growled in frustration. He’d always known that Ren was a man of few words, but this was ridiculous. It would be easier to get blood from a damn stone.
Ren shot a look over his shoulder as he hit the button for the shower. Needle-fine sprays pummelled their skin and stole the breath right from Cam’s lungs.
“No, I didn’t miss that she’s human. Nor did I miss the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. A lightning bolt.”
Cam’s eyebrows shot up so fast that if they weren’t attached, they’d have come right off the top of his head. There was only one unit who used that insignia, and they were the stuff of nightmares, even for a weredog.
“Fucking hell. A death squadder? I thought they were all dead. Killed in the Lusaar campaigns?”
Ren reached out and pulled Cam into the circle of his arms. The water sprayed over them as the larger man turned him and pressed him back against the hard tile, his even harder cock pressing against Cam’s stomach.
“Can’t have been. Now, less talking…more fucking.”
Ugh, what a long-ass day.
Wynter rubbed at her eye with the heel of her hand as she walked through the empty barracks, her pack slung across one shoulder. Looked like the dogs had all hit the mess hall, which suited her fine. She needed to settle in.
Hard to believe that she’d started the day on the Raptor two sectors over, living out of her pack as they shunted her from unit to unit, and now was ending it with a permanent assignment with, delight of delights, an actual place to lay her head.
The stink of sweat—her own—rose to her nostrils as she dumped her pack at the foot of the bed. Sure, the CS’s room-cum-office was smaller than the closets she’d had growing up, and it had no en suite, but she didn’t care. A bunk was a bunk. And a shower was a shower. Something she needed. Badly.
Unzipping her boots to ditch them, she stripped off in record time and grabbed a light robe from the closet by the bed. It was clean, which was more than could be said for anything in her pack. She offered up a swift prayer in thanks that Major Cooper had authorized a trip to the quartermaster. Everything she needed from the skin out would be delivered at some point tonight.
Which meant all she had to do now was get clean and sleep.
She cinched the waist of the robe tight, grabbed a towel from the closet, pulled the wash bag from her pack, and stepped out of the room. Her bare feet were silent on the cold, metal deck plating of the floor as she made her way to the showers.
All barracks on Coalition ships were laid out the same, so she had no problems finding her way. Which was a blessing, really, with how tired she was. The last thing she needed was to walk into someone’s office or find herself locked in a janitor’s closet.
Steam issuing from the shower area told her that the barracks weren’t as deserted as she’d thought. Must be a few stragglers. She grunted to herself as she dropped her wash bag to the bench, a very inelegant sound her mother had despaired over when she was still alive. If whoever it was wanted food, then they’d better get a move on. Weredog appetites were legendary, as was the speed with which the mess got cleared of anything edible.
Leaving the robe and towel hung on a hook, she padded naked into the shower area. Despite her bluster earlier about speed and strength, namely her lack of it compared to the weredogs, she wasn’t worried about her personal safety. She’d checked, and only Camden in her squad was a lifer—a con who had traded his sentence for service to the Coalition—and all the reports said he was wasn’t a danger to anything other than bugs. She flicked a glance down at the bolt tattooed on the inside of her wrist. Besides, some of the things the big C had done to keep up with the enemy meant that there were worse things to be than a weredog.
“Oh god, yeah baby. Do that again.”
The deep male voice, full of lust and rough with heat, stopped her in her tracks. Eyes wide, she tried to peer through the veil of steam to see what was going on. Had one of the dogs smuggled in a lover? The sound of slurping, the sounds of sex, reached her ears as she strode forward, the reprimand already on her lips.
She stalled midstep.
There, in the end cubicle, was Corporal Rennick. He leaned against the wall, his head thrown back, with a look of utter pleasure on his face. He groaned, the cords in his neck standing out as though he fought to hold himself still. Her gaze shifted lower.
The strong neck flowed into the broadest set of shoulders she’d ever seen, the heavy muscles hinted at by the T-shirt he’d worn earlier now revealed. Her mouth watered as everything female in her woke up and took notice.
He moved, the muscles in his arm and shoulder flexing. She followed the arm down past the hard chest, with its collection of scars and campaign tattoos, past the washboard abs that flexed and released as he pumped his hips, to the hand. His fingers were threaded through the hair of a man on his knees, head bobbing up and down as he sucked Rennick off. Camden.
Fuck. She started to turn but another groan stopped her. She wasn’t normally into guy-on-guy action, but there was something about seeing them together, two such hard, masculine men pleasuring each other, that made her knees weak.
Stepping back half a step into the transient cover of the steam, she leaned against the wall. Heat hit her cheeks as Rennick pulled Camden up, the younger man releasing his cock with a pop, and turned him around. Face flushed, the smaller weredog bent over the waist-high divider between the stalls and spread his legs.
Oh god, were they going to
go at it right here? Wynter couldn’t tear her eyes away from Rennick’s cock. Thick and broad, it arched up to his stomach proudly, as though to proclaim his virility. She ached to wrap her lips around it just as Camden had done, licking the tiny bead of precum right from the tip. She’d never had a weredog, but she’d heard they were voracious lovers. Pity Rennick and Camden were into guys. She’d have happily taken one of them for a trial run.
Or both.
Maybe together.
The bolt of lust that hit her at the thought of being between them both, one thick dick in her cunt as the other slid deep into her ass, almost brought her to her knees. Biting her lip to smother her gasp, she wrapped a hand around the shower pipe above her and slid her other hand between her thighs. Fuck, she was slick and wet, her own juices sliding down her legs as her body really got on board with the ideas swirling through her head.
In front of her Rennick squirted something into his hand, then smoothed them down between his partner’s ass cheeks. Lube, had to be. Camden stiffened for a second, then groaned as Rennick pumped slowly, reaching around with the other hand to fist his cock in short, fast movements.
“Shit, Ren, if you don’t get inside me I’m gonna blow right now,” he begged, his voice hoarse with his dog.
Body alive with heat and need, Wynter slid her fingers along her pussy lips, collecting the slick wetness there and rubbing it over her clit. God, this was so hot. Wrong, but fucking hot. She drove a finger deep into her cunt, then another, finger fucking herself as she watched the two men in front of her.
Rennick pulled back. He dumped more lube in his hand then gripped his shaft, fisting it until it was slick and shiny in the overhead lights. Fuck, he had the thickest cock. What would that feel like inside her…parting her as she impaled herself on it?
She stifled her whimper as Rennick spread his partner’s ass cheeks, dipping his knees to fit his cock against the other man’s hole. Then, slowly, he pushed inside with a slow, seesawing movement that drew a low, quivering moan from the other man’s lips. Wynter froze, her thumb against her clit, at the look on Camden’s face as Rennick’s hips met his ass. Utter ecstasy.
