by Jenny Penn
Sea Island Wolves 4
Chasing Lacie
Everybody knows lycan mates are pampered and indulged, which is just why Lacie Chandler sometimes fantasizes about being matched to one of the large, rough men. None of her dreams, though, ever included being hunted, caught and bound to two determined males. That’s just the kind of seduction Chance and Davis have been plotting for years.
With the threat of a demon lurking in the shadows, Chance and Davis are free to shrug off tradition and give into their more primitive desires. They only have one day to convince Lacie to do things their way or their dreams could all turn to nightmares. The only problem is chasing Lacie down turns out to be a lot harder than either man planned.
Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 48,805 words
CHASING LACIE
Sea Island Wolves 4
Jenny Penn
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
CHASING LACIE
Copyright © 2011 by Jenny Penn
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-495-2
First E-book Publication: May 2011
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to Cleo.
CHASING LACIE
Sea Island Wolves 4
JENNY PENN
Copyright © 2011
Prologue
“Well?” Davis stared pointedly at Randy, giving voice to the anxiousness that had been eating at him. “What’s up?”
Nothing good, he knew. Nobody got pulled off the front lines for a good reason. His commander cut him a hard look for his impatience, clearly annoyed. Davis didn’t blame him. Crammed into a small and utilitarian little room with no windows, no decorations, and barely enough space for three lycans to fit, they were all uncomfortable.
The Masters of Cerberus was too well staffed with humans, who happened to be a good deal smaller than lycans. They also happened to be cheaper, which was why the Lycan Nation kept their own offices.
That made Randy’s presence here, near the portal, all the more ominous. Their commander didn’t tend to care for the fluorescent-lit halls of the Masters’ headquarters. The lighting gave them all a headache, explaining why debriefings didn’t normally happen here. So that made this situation something worse than simply bad.
“Come on, man,” Chance pressed their commander, clearly braced for the answer. “Don’t leave us hanging. Just tell us who died.”
“What?” Randy scowled. Leaning against the edge of the small, metal desk cluttering the office, he crossed his arms over his chest and gave Chance a look like he’d lost it. “Nobody died. Why would you even think that?”
“His dads,” Davis explained as Chance sighed with relief and collapsed into one of the two folding chairs facing the desk.
Chance’s fathers headed up one of the larger clans in the Kragen Pack. If anything had happened to them, it would fall to Chance to lead the family. A very good reason to pull them out of a pivotal battle early, but apparently not the reason they had been.
“If nobody’s dead,” Davis cocked a brow at Randy, “what the hell are we doing here?”
“This is why you’re here.” Randy offered the file he’d been clutching in one meaty fist to Davis.
Chance shot back to his feet as Davis flipped the file open. Scanning over the pages, he took in the details until Chance’s breath began heating his shoulder. Shrugging away from the annoying sensation, Davis was about ready to bark at Chance when he turned to page three and felt his fingers go numb.
“Why are our names on this list?”
“We’re not the only ones,” Chance commented on that obvious fact before Randy could answer. “Look, the Kragen Kings, but this isn’t their mate. Jolie Benson? They’re matched to Carrie Wall.”
“They are.” Randy nodded. “But if something happened to Carrie…”
“Then you believe this would be the next mate chosen.” Davis finished what Randy clearly didn’t want to say.
He didn’t blame him. A lycan only had one true mate. If she died, though, a second mate could be chosen by the cosmos. Nobody liked to talk about it because nobody liked to admit that they could actually replace the one woman they felt would take their souls if she left them. For most lycans it wasn’t true.
“There is a threat to the kings’ mate?” Chance whispered as if the idea alone was too reprehensible to give voice to.
“We believe there is a standing threat against all the mates on that list.”
“A threat?” Davis repeated, feeling every strand of hair on the nape of his neck start to stand on end. Nobody threatened his woman, and anybody who dared would die. All he needed to know was, “Who?”
“More like what,” Randy corrected. “The Masters seem convinced that there is a current and real threat of a demon att
ack against lycan and werewolf mates.”
“Demon?” Davis scowled. “What the hell is going on here, Randy?”
“I don’t know,” Randy answered honestly. “But the Kragen Kings are taking this seriously.”
“Of course they are. If this list is real and the threat serious, then—you said unclaimed?”
That bit hit Davis the second Chance repeated it. “What about—”
“That’s why you’re here,” Randy cut off Davis’s panicked question. “The Kragen Kings have suspended the rest of your rotation. We’ll get your debriefing done, and I’ll get you the full report on your mate and the threat. Then you two can head home to claim her.”
For ten years Davis had fought in one war after another, being shipped all through the worlds to the next hot spot. The thing that had gotten him through every moment of every single one of those days was knowing his mate waited for him at the end of it all.
Now his waiting was over.
Chapter 1
“So? Where’s the cow?”
Chance Dillon reclined against the bed of his pickup with his elbows tucked up along the warming metal rim and his hat pulled low to block out the early morning sun. From beneath the wide brim, his gaze roved over the sodden pasture field. The musky odor of wet dirt tinted the sweet scent of the grass growing beneath the brilliant rays of the morning sun.
Beautiful. A perfect spring day made to lure the wild men out onto the range to test their strength and skill against the horse beneath and the cattle trying to escape. Or maybe to test their endurance and stamina riding something a whole lot sweeter.
Chance sighed and rolled his head, popping the tension out of his stiff muscles. It didn’t help. His gaze kept going back to study the very nicely rounded curve of Miss Lacie’s rump. Now there was something worth riding.
He even had a plan about how to lure his filly into the mating position. He’d been working on it since about the age of twelve. Back then it had all been wet dreams and hand jobs, but seventeen years later all those night’s spent plotting were about to come to fruition.
Now all he needed was for it to go like he planned. If it did, he’d soon have an excuse for introducing Lacie Chandler to the delights of going for a midday swim. A swim they’d be taking without clothes because he already knew how to get his mate out of hers. It was simple, really.
He planned to shred them from her body. Then it would all be old-school moves from there, moves he knew a woman couldn’t resist. Not that Lacie was just any woman. She was his mate, and more than any other woman in all the world, Chance wanted to please her, to hear her cry out his name as her pussy rippled with the climax he drove her to.
He’d spread those rounded thighs wide and feast on that cunt until she begged him to stop. Not that he would. Hands, mouth, toys, and his own painfully hard cock, Chance had a lot of plans for Lacie’s sweet little pussy. By the time he finished with her, she wouldn’t—
“Hello? Are you listening to me, Mr. Dillon?”
Davis elbowed him in the side, making Chance grunt. He shot an annoyed look at his best friend, but Davis didn’t apologize. He just shook his head sadly at Chance’s pathetic state. As if that bastard had any right to criticize.
Chance knew damn well that the same thoughts occupied Davis’s mind. Why else would Davis be crouched down in the bed but to hide something a man didn’t want to frighten off his prey with?
Blood brothers and bonded since they’d been matched to the same mate, it was only that connection that kept Chance from killing Davis right there. Any other male would have died for so clearly coveting what belonged to them. Not that their mate appeared particularly receptive to their interest right then.
“Look,” Lacie began in a perfect imitation of a school marm. “I was called out to tend to a sick heifer. Now where is she?”
Of course none of Chance’s teachers had looked that good. Then again none of them had shared Lacie’s fuddy-duddy sense of style. The slightly big khaki pants and oversized button-down Oxford had a severe sort of feel to them that matched Lacie’s dower expression.
“Mr. Dillon?”
“That’s my daddy’s name.” And it didn’t feel right, her calling him that, given all the dirty things Chance would be doing to her soon enough. “You can call me Chance, as in a lucky one.”
“Does that line ever work?” Not amused, Lacie’s gaze narrowed on him with the kind of disapproval that made his balls ache to show her just how right he was.
“Every time,” Chance assured her, smirking at the way his answer only drove the angry flush in her cheeks lower.
Her porcelain skin flushed a rosy hue all the way down to the very top button on her collar, which was closed. That didn’t mean Chance had a problem imagining the way her generous tits were glowing. All it did was make him eager to rip the fabric constraining those luscious breasts out of his way and free her not only to his sight, but his touch and kiss as well.
Maybe he should amend his fantasy. Instead of ripping through her buttons, he’d bite them off one by one until her soft flesh kissed his lips. Then he could devour every inch of her sweet skin with no second spared to wait.
“You’re not listening to me,” Lacie snapped.
No, he really wasn’t but didn’t figure that honest answer would improve her mood. Not that Chance cared. He wanted to get her as riled up as possible for the run to come. The chase would get all their blood flowing. Their bodies would flood with endorphins that would only fuel the frenzy when it came time for the capture. He’d take her to the ground, shed every single piece of clothing from her body. Then his hands would be everywhere. Not to mention what Chance planned on doing with his lips.
He’d lick, suck, and nibble his way over her lush curves until he buried his lips in the sweet folds of her cunt. Then he’d get creative. Chance shifted, adjusting his weight to compensate for his active imagination. Apparently, he should have been paying more attention to reality because Lacie stared at him, clearly expecting some kind of response.
Chance pulled a blank and forgave himself for not having a clue. Going blind-dumb with lust was just all part of the joy of taking a mate. Once he had Lacie pinned beneath him, howling out with ecstasy while he rode her tight pussy raw, then maybe he’d be able to concentrate.
Still, he had to say something. “So, uh…something wrong?”
“Yes,” Lacie snapped, her green gaze flashing with dark bolts of passion. “Where is the cow?”
Chance looked at Davis, who shrugged. Matching his partner’s gesture, he turned back to the little spitfire clearly getting ready to erupt. “I don’t know. Where?”
Lacie’s gaze narrowed on him, her jaw clearly clenching along with the rest of her body. Chance could sense the aggression mixing in with the spicy scent of her arousal and had to grin. Maybe he wasn’t the only one starting to go stupid with desire. After all, Lacie had a big brain. She should have figured a few things out by now.
“Mr. Dillon—”
“I told you to call me Chance.”
“I am getting annoyed.”
Chance figured the word she wanted was pissed but didn’t have the lewdness to go there. Sweet, prudish and so very corruptible, Lacie didn’t stand a chance against him. He’d make her moan every dirty word he could think of. Then he’d watch her blush in the morning when he reminded her of all the lewd things she’d moaned for. Forget moaning them, he’d make her beg.
“You gonna pop a button,” Davis murmured.
Chance looked down at the erection tenting out his jeans and smiled. “It’s called advertising, Davis,” he responded in just as low a tone but with a cheeriness to match his smile. “Bait and lure, my friend.”
“Bait?” Lacie repeated. “What are you two talking about?”
“You look a little red, honey.” Davis must have figured Chance had screwed things up long enough and needed a little help making them worse. “I think you might be getting heatstroke.”
“I do n
ot have heatstroke. What I have is a loss of patience.”
“Crankiness.” Davis nodded at Chance. “That’s a sign of heatstroke. So is disorientation and confusion.”
“I am not confused.”
“You know the best thing for heatstroke?” Davis asked, full of earnest cheer and completely ignoring the glare Lacie aimed at him. “A swim in a cool pool.”
“Nice execution.” Chance joined in Davis’s ignore-the-woman scheme. “But bad timing.”
“Timing is part of execution.”
“Okay.” Chance shrugged, easily conceding the point. “Then bad segue.”
“What? You don’t even know what that word means.”
“I used it, didn’t I?” Chance shot back. “And I must be right because you screwed something up, evidenced by the fact that she’s neither naked nor wet.”
“Naked?” That soft, confused echo would have drawn Chance’s focus if Davis hadn’t continued to argue with him.
“Well, she is a little wet.”
“Excuse me?” Lacie gasped, puffing up with clear indignation.
“Dumbass.” Chance snorted. “Never tell a woman you can smell her pussy unless she’s already spread out and sweaty beneath you.”
“Okay, that’s it! I demand to be taken back to my van.”
“I think it’s that way.” Chance nodded over his shoulder in the direction they’d come from. Of course that would be the wrong direction, toward freedom and escape. Then again freedom was nearly ten miles away, so he didn’t suspect she’d make it.
