Jacque glanced over at Gwen, worry chewing at his gut. His heart clenched when he saw her surreptitiously swiping away a tear. He felt like the big bad wolf in the fairy tales that humans read to their children, the monster slain by the hero of the story. Those stories had never bothered him. He thought them nothing more than a bunch of lies and nonsense but, for once in his life, he wanted to be the hero. Her hero.
He growled and gripped the steering wheel to stop himself from reaching for her. He could still taste her sweetness on his lips, her seductive flavor on his tongue. The taste of her had only wet his appetite for more.
Her hand had branded his chest where she’d touched him, the heat from her fingers leaving him craving more.
His cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans, a very tangible reminder of his arousal. Jacque inhaled, smelling her soap and her sweet scent, but it was tinged with the darker spice of blood and fear. He didn’t like that. He wanted to experience the scent of her arousal. He licked his lips, practically able to taste it.
She would come to trust him. There was no other way. There were many werewolves who would view her as a threat and would seek to kill her.
He growled, the vibration filling the cab of the truck. Over their dead bodies. Because he’d kill anyone who touched her.
His phone went off and he grabbed it before it had the chance to ring a second time. Gwen was asleep again, or passed out. He wasn’t quite sure which and, considering her probable concussion, it worried him. He wanted her home where he could put her to bed and take care of her.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me.” He gave a sigh of relief when Louis’s voice came over the line. “Cole and Gator are heading here. You’ll probably pass them on the road on your way home. They’ll load Gwen’s car up and bring it home.”
“How about her house?” He knew she wasn’t going to like having to give up her home and freedom. She was obviously fiercely independent. But it had to be done. He’d deal with the fallout later.
“Armand and I have everything packed. The refrigerator and cupboards are empty. Her front door is fixed and the house is locked up tight.”
“Good. That’s real good.” He glanced at Gwen but her sleep was undisturbed.
“We’re heading out now.” Louis paused for a brief moment. “How is she doing?”
Jacque wished to hell he knew. “Physically, not great, but her injuries don’t seem to be serious. She needs a few days to recover. I won’t know more until I can have a better look at her.” It went without saying that they couldn’t take her to a hospital. “Mentally, I’m not sure. She tried to jump out of the truck.” He paused. “I was doing about fifty-five at the time.”
“What?” Louis’s disbelief echoed his own.
“Yeah, she still thinks we’re going to kill her.”
“Haven’t you told her differently?”
Jacque almost smiled. “I don’t think she believes me.” Her courage still astounded him. He’d known men—heck, he’d known other werewolves who hadn’t shown half the strength and resiliency that Gwen had. She was quite a woman. And she was all his.
“She will. We’ll keep her safe.”
His brother’s vow was a reminder that he wasn’t alone in this. Louis wanted Gwen as much as he did. That could be a problem. Only time would tell.
“See you in a couple of hours.” He ended the call and tucked the phone away. By the time Louis and Armand arrived, he wanted Gwen cleaned up and tucked safely into his bed.
His wolf settled inside him, sensing the rightness of that as much as the man did. “I’ll take good care of you,” he promised the sleeping woman. Whether she realized it or not, she belonged with him and he’d do whatever it took to keep her.
Chapter Four
Jacque kept one eye on the hallway leading toward his bedroom and the other one on the two men leaning against the kitchen counter. Armand and Louis had arrived only minutes ago with a truckload of Gwen’s stuff. It hadn’t taken the three of them long to unload the boxes and suitcases and stack them in the large storage closet at the end of the hallway.
“How is she?” Louis had stopped at the doorway of Jacque’s bedroom and stared at Gwen for several long minutes, but he’d left her alone, not wanting to disturb her.
Jacque raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “Slight concussion, but I don’t think it’s too serious. Bruises and a few scrapes. She needs sleep and time more than anything.”
He fisted his hands to hide the slight trembling. The thought that a woman could bring him to his knees was preposterous. Yet, it was true. Gwen had been passed out when he’d arrived home. On one hand, he’d been grateful not to have to hide the whereabouts of his home from her. On the other, he’d been deeply concerned that she’d been sleeping for so long.
She’d stirred momentarily when he’d placed her on his bed. She’d opened her eyes, blinked and sent him a sleepy smile before drifting off again. That little communication was enough to reassure him that she wasn’t in any immediate danger.
He’d undressed her. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Okay, that was a huge lie. Of course he wanted to undress her. He was a red-blooded male and she was all woman. But that still wasn’t why he’d done it.
His cock might have been standing at attention, ready to rock and roll, but he’d been far more concerned about her injuries. It hadn’t taken him long to remove her sneakers and socks and set them under the bed. Her jeans had proven to be a bit more of a challenge as the material clung to her long legs. He’d been sweating by the time he’d gotten them off her.
Jacque swallowed hard at the memory of her lying there in her shirt, bra and silky white panties. He’d wanted to howl and bury his face between her thighs. Instead, he’d finished stripping her, doing his best not to stare at her ample breasts. No, he hadn’t noticed at all that they were the perfect size for his hands or that her nipples were succulent and ripe like raspberries. Nor had he noticed her very kissable lips. For the sake of his sanity and her modesty, he’d made sure the shirt he’d dressed her in was covering her before he’d reached under it and tugged her panties off, wanting her to be comfortable.
“Jacque?” His cousin was giving him a strange look and Jacque pulled his attention back to the men.
“As I said, there are some bruises on her arms and legs. Nothing seems to be broken.” Jacque did his best to ignore the raging hard-on pushing against the placket of his jeans. He hadn’t had this much trouble with control since he was a horny teenager long, long years ago.
“You checked her over?” Louis crossed his arms over his chest and shot a glare in Jacque’s direction.
“Oh, yeah.” The memory of her naked body was burned into his brain for all eternity. He’d slept with plenty of women in his lifetime. He’d never pretended to be a saint. But never had a woman affected him the way Gwen did.
“Bastard.” Louis shoved away from the counter and began to pace.
Armand stared at one brother and then the other, noting the growing tension between them. “What the hell is going on?”
“Ask him.” Louis waved at his older brother and continued to pace.
Jacque wanted to do nothing more than go into his room, lie next to Gwen and hold her in his arms. But there were too many problems that needed to be dealt with, what was going on between him and his brother being the most important.
Armand looked at him and raised one eyebrow in silent question. If it had been anyone else, Jacque would have told him to fuck off. But Armand was like a brother to them and he was going to be around so he deserved to know the truth. “She’s a possible mate for both of us.”
“Shit.” Armand gave a low whistle, his straight black hair shimmering in the light as he shook his head. “Leave it to you two to do things the hard way.” He walked over to Jacque and slapped him on the shoulder. “But it is a good thing. To find a mate is something to be celebrated.”
“Not everyone will be happy ab
out it,” Louis pointed out as he stopped and turned toward them. “She’s human.”
“There’s a possibility—” Armand was cut off before he could finish.
“No!” Both brothers spoke at once, their voices joined as one.
“No,” Jacque said again. “We will not risk her.” He glanced at his brother, who nodded in agreement.
“Too many die during the conversion process,” Louis pointed out. “Simply being bitten by a werewolf won’t necessarily turn you into one. You know that. It’s very rare it happens that way and about ninety-nine percent die during the transition. Werewolves are born of other werewolves, plain and simple. Plus, I don’t think that is something Gwen would even consider right now. She thinks we’re the big bad wolves and are going to kill her.”
“That’s not too far off the mark.” Armand held up his hands in mock surrender when both brothers growled at him and flashed their fangs. “You know it’s true. Many in the pack will want her dead. They don’t want to dilute the bloodlines, nor do they want outsiders in the pack.”
“Which is the very reason we broke from the pack and moved to North Carolina to start our own.” Jacque could still remember the long yelling matches with his overbearing father. “They would rather stay in the dark ages and die out than embrace the modern world and new ways.” It was what had finally driven Jacque, Louis, their cousin Armand, and two others to break away and start a new pack far away from New Orleans.
He missed the swamps and bayous of his childhood, but he’d come to embrace the deep woods and mountains of his new home. Plus, he was his own master here, not having to bend his will to traditions that made no sense to him.
“He’ll still find out.” There was an underlying threat to Armand’s words that had Jacque turning on his cousin.
“And who will tell him? You?” Pure, undiluted fury sped through his veins like molten lava, penetrating every cell in his body. His nails grew while his jawbone cracked and began to elongate.
“Don’t be an ass.” Armand took an aggressive step closer. “Your father has spies everywhere. You know as well as I do he’s been monitoring us since we left.”
Yes, Jacque did know that. No one walked away from Pierre LaForge unless he let them. He’d expected his two sons to toe the line and do exactly as he wished. That was his right as alpha of the pack. But Jacque and a few others had chaffed for far too many years under the oppressive yoke and finally had broken off. He hadn’t spoken to his mother in the two years they’d been gone. His attempts to contact her had been thwarted by his father.
Jacque felt his body return to normal and was chagrined at his aggression toward his cousin. Armand was on his side. Always had been. Their father was a mean sonofabitch, but Armand’s father was even worse. Remy LaForge had never accepted the fact he would never be alpha, would always play second fiddle to his older brother. He paid lip service to his alpha in person and took his disappointment out on his family. Everyone knew that, but no one had ever done anything about it. Armand would bear the scars of that neglect for the rest of his life.
“I know.” He reached out and pulled his cousin to him, giving him a quick, tight hug before releasing him. The apology went unsaid and was immediately accepted.
“If you two girls are finished sharing your feelings, can we get back to Gwen?” Louis’s taunt broke the tension. Armand raised his middle finger toward his cousin.
“You can have a hug too.” Jacque managed to keep his face deadpan. “I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”
“Assholes.” Even as he said it, there was a grin tugging at the corners of Louis’s mouth.
“Back to business.” The night was quickly waning and Jacque had no idea how long Gwen would sleep. “I cleaned up the cut on her forehead. Thankfully, it’s not deep and doesn’t need stitches. I put a bandage on it.” He’d hated that any of her blood had been spilled and that it was his fault. He’d done his best to remove the dried blood from her short, silky hair. Jacque swallowed back his anger. “Did you find any other incriminating information?”
Armand nodded. “She had some notes. She’d also recorded her entire conversation with Hector.”
His blood ran cold when he thought about that getting posted online. “Anything else?”
“Our girl has an interesting profession.” There was a world of possession in the way Louis spoke about Gwen. Jacque didn’t like it, but he understood. If his brother’s feelings toward Gwen were anything like his own, he knew Louis was on edge, volatile.
“Don’t keep me in suspense. I can tell you’re dying to enlighten me.”
“She’s a writer.” Louis rocked back on his heels as he gave his brother the rest of the news. “She writes about the paranormal for all kinds of magazines and publications.”
“Shit.” Jacque rubbed his hand over his face and took a deep breath. “So she knows more about us than she let on.” For some reason, he was hurt and angered by that when he had no right to be. She didn’t know him or his people. Why should she care if she hurt them?
“I don’t think so,” Armand interjected. “From what I can tell, she’s met and interviewed a bunch of people like Hector, folks that believe in all kinds of things. Hell, from what I read, I think she might have interviewed a vampire, a real one. I didn’t think those reclusive bastards talked to anyone. But I don’t think she actually believes in any of it herself.”
“Then why does she write it?” Jacque couldn’t quite understand that.
Armand shrugged. “It’s a way to make a living. Louis drove us back and I spent those hours going through her laptop files and some of her papers. Like most people, she’s fascinated by the thought of the paranormal but she doesn’t seem to buy into it.”
Louis laughed. “She obviously got more than she bargained for.”
“What do you plan to do with her?” Armand asked.
Jacque wished to hell he knew.
Gwen woke slowly, as though climbing through a thick fog. She hurt all over. She bit her bottom lip to stifle a moan as she rolled onto her side and stared at the blackness surrounding her. She was in a bed. That much was clear. But it wasn’t hers. The sheets were crisp cotton whereas hers were flannel. She shivered and pulled the covers more firmly around her to try to stave off the chill.
She blinked and slowly the outline of furniture became clearer. There was a window not far from the bed and the moonlight filtered in. Within seconds, her eyes had acclimated, making the room appear somewhat lighter.
Where was she?
She swallowed hard and ordered her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was being in a truck with Jacque heading down the highway. This must be his home, and since she obviously wasn’t dead, he must not be planning on killing her anytime soon. The fact that she wasn’t locked in a basement or creepy cellar was also encouraging.
“If you get out of this you’ll have tons of ideas for your book.” Whispering made her feel not so scared and alone. She pushed herself upright, trying not to groan aloud when her muscles protested. The car accident had left its impact on her but she knew she was lucky. She could have easily been killed.
Her head throbbed and she raised her hand to touch her forehead, frowning when she felt a small bandage there. A long sleeve flowed down her arm. Gwen froze. She wasn’t wearing her own clothing. She yanked back the covers and stared down. She was wearing a man’s shirt and she was naked beneath it.
She swallowed hard. Surely he hadn’t assaulted her. She would have remembered that. Wouldn’t she? Common sense came to the fore to assure her that hadn’t happened. The only physical effects she felt were from the crash.
But someone had stripped her clothing from her and put her in this men’s shirt. Someone had seen her naked. Had touched her arms and legs and probably more. The idea of being that vulnerable to a virtual stranger made her stomach queasy.
She rubbed her hand over one of the sleeves and a woodsy scent rose from the fabric. Jacque. It was his shirt she was wearing.
She recognized the smell and it made her toes curl. She should take it off on principle alone, but she wasn’t sure where to find her clothing. Better to be wearing something of his rather than have to run around butt-naked.
It was time to figure out what was going on. She shifted her legs over the side of the bed and waited until a bout of dizziness passed. No doubt about it, she had a slight concussion. She hoped it wasn’t a serious one because she needed her wits about her.
The ends of the sleeves fell over her hands so she took a moment to fold them back until they were cuffed halfway down her forearms. It took her longer than she thought it would to manage such a simple chore. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lie back down on the bed and go to sleep.
“Time to move,” she ordered herself. She eased her feet onto the floor and used the bed for support as she stood. Her knees wobbled slightly but held. The cold from the wood floors seeped through the soles of her feet and she wished she had a pair of socks.
There was a rather large dresser off to her right. Not a bad place to look. She felt no qualms about carefully opening the dresser drawers and looking through them. There wasn’t nearly enough light to see by and she didn’t want to risk turning one on and attracting attention. By feel alone, she found a pair of sweat socks in the second drawer and some silk boxers in the third.
She wanted to cry at the thought of having to bend over to put on the items, but better a pain in the head than a bare butt and cold feet. Yes, the shirt covered her and fell to mid-thigh, but Gwen still felt exposed.
She carefully perched on the edge of the bed and drew on the boxers. They were big and fell to her hips when she stood. She grabbed them by the waistband and held them up. This wasn’t going to work. She thought for a moment and then twisted the fabric, knotting it at the side. It wasn’t perfect but it would do for now.
The socks were harder to put on. By the time she’d finished, she felt like tossing her cookies and her head was spinning so badly she could barely see straight. But she gritted her teeth and waited for the worst of it to pass.
Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 Page 4
