This time when she stood she was ready to face whatever waited beyond the door. She shuffled over, using the furniture and wall for support. It was only when she got there she realized it wasn’t even closed all the way but was opened the barest crack.
She held her breath and drew it open enough to slip through. Male voices drifted down the hallway and she froze. How many of them were there? She’d seen the two brothers, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more of them.
Werewolves. They were real. Or at least she thought they were. Her poor brain was so scrambled she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. What she did know was she’d been kidnapped and needed to escape. Not that she was in any shape to make a run for it. She had no idea where she was and she needed something more substantial to wear. And shoes. Shoes would be good.
She barely breathed as she inched down the hallway, grateful for the thick socks that muffled her footsteps.
“What do you plan to do with her?” she heard a man ask. She didn’t wait for a reply. She boldly stepped into the light, blinking when it hurt her eyes. Better to take the offensive than to cower in the shadows.
“Yes, what do you plan on doing with me?”
Chapter Five
Jacque swore when he caught sight of Gwen leaning against the wall, her face pale, her limbs trembling. Obviously, she’d been up long enough to pilfer through his dresser drawers. She hadn’t been wearing socks when he’d left her.
Not that he minded. She looked cute as hell wearing his shirt, and it settled the wolf prowling inside him to have her wrapped in clothing that belonged to him. It was almost as good as having his arms wrapped around her. It was a pronouncement to the other wolves in the room that Gwen belonged to him.
The long white dress shirt he’d put her in fell to midway down her thighs, leaving a nice stretch of leg uncovered. Bright blue boxers showed through the light fabric. She must have found them in his dresser drawer since he knew he hadn’t put them on her. He bet they looked better on her than they ever would on him.
She edged into the room, keeping one hand on the wall. Her shoulders were thrown back and she squinted as the light hit her eyes. Lines of pain bracketed her sweet mouth. He went to her immediately and swept her into his arms.
“You should still be in bed.” He strode to the table and set her down on one of the chairs.
She pushed aside his arms and gave him a look that would have withered a lesser man. He fought back a grin, knowing it wouldn’t endear him to her if she thought he was laughing at her. And he wasn’t. But her damn-the-torpedoes attitude sure did make him smile. She was one hell of a woman and she was all his.
She frowned and then glanced behind him. Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. He followed the ripple in her slender throat and wanted to lick the delicate skin.
“Who is he?” Her question was low, almost a whisper. He barely suppressed another smile. She was bold one moment and shy the next.
“That’s our cousin, Armand LaForge.”
Armand stepped forward and smiled at her. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Jones.” He held out his hand and waited until she slowly reached out and took it. Instead of shaking it, Armand slowly brought her hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her knuckles. Gwen’s breath hitched and her eyes widened.
Jacque wanted to smash his fist into his cousin’s pearly whites. The bastard was purposely taunting both him and Louis by turning on the charm. Women loved Armand. Young and old, pretty or plain, it didn’t matter.
He had an innate gentleness about him when it came to the opposite sex. They sensed that about him and responded to it. They also took advantage of it. Armand had been hurt more than once in his life by some bitch that used him to get what she wanted and then cut him loose. In their world, a female werewolf would see gentleness as weakness even as she exploited it for her own gain.
Gwen tugged her hand back and let it fall to her lap. Jacque used his forefinger to tilt her head back. She winced and then scowled at him.
“Does your head hurt?”
“What do you think?” she retorted. “Of course, it hurts.”
Behind him, Louis gave a snort of laughter. Jacque ignored his brother as he studied her pupils. They were dilating properly. That was a good sign. “How is your stomach?”
She sighed. “It’s been better, but I don’t think I’m going to throw up on your kitchen floor if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The corners of Jacque’s mouth curved slightly upward as he gently touched her hair. It was short and sassy and incredibly soft. “Do you want something for the pain?”
“God, yes.” She put her elbows on the table and leaned her head into her hands. “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” The white bandage on her forehead and a bruise on her cheek gave her a fragile air. She was putting up a good front, but he knew she was hurting.
Louis went to the cupboard, pulled down a plastic bottle and shook two tablets into his hand. He sauntered over to the table and crouched beside her, nudging Jacque out of the way. “Here you go, chère.”
She pushed her head upright and stared down at him. Louis offered her the pain pills while Armand filled a glass with water and brought it over. Louis took the glass and held it out to Gwen. “You need to take these.”
“What are they?” Jacque could see her brain working as she reconsidered her earlier position of “taking whatever they had.” She didn’t trust them one bit.
“Just over-the-counter medication.” Louis stood and pointed to the counter where the bottle sat.
Gwen took the pills and studied them. When she was satisfied they weren’t trying to poison or drug her with something nasty, she tossed them into her mouth and reached for the water glass. She emptied it before she handed it back.
“Are you hungry?” She hadn’t eaten in hours and it probably wasn’t a good idea just yet, but Jacque didn’t like the thought of her being hungry.
“No. I couldn’t eat anything.” She leaned back in her chair and studied them one by one. “Where are we?”
“Home,” Jacque answered before either of the other men could. “Our home.”
“And where exactly is your home?” Her gaze flicked away and traced a path around the room. He knew what she was seeing, the rustic wood walls and the homemade wooden furniture. It was very male and comfortable.
“North Carolina.”
Gwen hoped the pain medication kicked in soon and slowed the wicked pounding in her head. It was unnerving to sit there with three men staring at her—three very large, very powerful men. The cousin wasn’t quite as large as the LaForge brothers, but he was just as intimidating. Straight black hair fell to his shoulders and several wicked scars on his left cheek gave him an almost demonic appearance. Yet, there was something about him that put her at ease.
And wasn’t that totally insane. If he was related to Jacque and Louis then he too was a werewolf. Not only that, they’d taken her across state lines from Tennessee to North Carolina. She was quite a ways from home.
She tugged the hem of the shirt down as far as it would go. Three sets of eyes went straight to her bare legs. Great, she needed to distract them from her lack of clothing. “So what are you going to do with me?”
Gwen took some comfort from the fact they’d offered her food and pain medication. Not the actions of men getting ready to kill her anytime soon. Then again, what did she know about the inner workings of the mind of a killer? Maybe they wanted to give her false hope. Maybe they were trying to put her at ease so she’d be easier to handle.
Louis hovered off to one side with Jacque on the other. They were crowding her and making her nervous.
“That depends on you.” Jacque’s ominous words struck fear to her heart, but she didn’t falter. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back and fear gnawed at her gut.
“What do you mean?”
Louis crouched beside her again and she was struck by the intensity of his brown eyes. Most women would kill for his
long, thick lashes. “We won’t hurt you.” He picked up one of her hands and rubbed his thumb over the back. She caught her breath, almost afraid to move.
“I want to go home.” The words were barely a whisper, certainly not the bold command she was going for.
Louis shot a glance at his brother. Jacque was frowning at him, glaring at where their hands were joined. He didn’t like his brother touching her.
“That can’t happen.” Jacque moved closer and she flinched away from him. His expression grew even more forbidding. Anger radiated from him in waves that beat at her already much abused psyche. “We can’t allow you to tell anyone about us.”
Relief doused her like a cold bucket of water. “Is that all?” This she could handle. “You know that no one would believe me if I told them. Right?” It was one thing to write entertaining pieces for publication, quite another to actually believe in it. “I wouldn’t have used the pictures or your names.”
“So you say now,” Jacque countered. “Unfortunately, there are many believers out there. People who would love the chance to hunt our kind into extinction.”
Our kind. The way he said it was a reminder that none of the men in this room was exactly human. They were more than that. Different.
“How did you start writing about the paranormal?” Louis asked. He continued to play with her fingers, making it difficult for her to concentrate. His skin was so warm and she felt so cold in spite of the layer of sweat covering her body.
“It’s interesting and there’s always a market for it.” She was used to people looking down on the subject matter of her writing.
“Do you plan to do it forever?”
Gwen found the interest in her life more than a little unnerving. She shrugged. “What does it matter?” Her new life in Tennessee was over. She’d never feel safe in her little cabin again.
“It matters,” Louis assured her.
His unruly, cropped hair stood on end, making her want to smooth down the edges. He was a nice guy for a kidnapper.
“Tell me,” he urged.
It was hard to concentrate with Jacque glaring at her and Armand staring, but she tried. If she made an emotional connection with them maybe they’d have a harder time killing her. Maybe they’d actually let her go. She knew it wasn’t likely, but it was the only hope she had to cling to.
“I was actually starting to write fewer articles.” She took a breath and plunged onward. “I wanted to write a book. I’d already started it.” She said the last in a rush. A book was a huge step for her.
“One to expose werewolves to the world.” Jacque sauntered closer, menace in every step. “Is that why you were meeting Hector?”
The threat was more than evident, and Gwen knew her life might be hanging by a thread. She shook her head in denial. “No.”
“Oh, come on, Gwen. You’re offered pictures, firsthand accounts of where we live and how we live.” Jacque shoved his brother aside and Louis gave her hand a squeeze of encouragement before releasing it.
There was no longer any doubt in her mind as to who was in charge here. Both Louis and Armand deferred to Jacque. He stared down at her with pitiless eyes.
“No, that’s not true.”
He reached down, put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. She tried not to wince when her bruised body protested but didn’t quite succeed.
“Stop it. You’re hurting her.” Armand stepped toward his cousin.
“Stay out of this,” Jacque commanded, but eased his grip. “This is between me and Gwen. Isn’t it?” He brought her body closer so they were almost touching. He dwarfed her with his size and she’d never thought of herself as a small woman before. She was five-eight but he made her feel tiny. He slid his hand upward until he was cupping her neck in his large hand. She had no doubt he could snap her neck like a twig without even breaking a sweat.
Her heart raced and it was getting more difficult to breathe.
“Tell me more about this book.”
“Jacque.” She heard the warning in Louis’s voice, but it seemed distant.
“Romance,” she managed to croak. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. He gently stroked her throat, a chilling reminder of what awaited her if he didn’t like her answer.
He stilled and gave her a puzzled frown. “What did you say?”
She licked her lips and tried again. “Romance. Paranormal.” She didn’t care what he and his buddies thought about the subject matter of her book. “I want to write a romance.” It was a moot point anyway as it was getting clearer by the second that she wasn’t going to live long enough to write it.
“Kill me now,” she demanded. She was sick to death of waiting, of having them be kind to her and give her hope only to smash it. That was more cruel than killing her outright. They were toying with her like she was prey and she didn’t like it. “Kill me or I’ll kill you.” Not much of a threat but it made her feel better.
“Ah, Gwen.” Jacque slid his fingers below her chin and tilted it upward. “Don’t you know by now that I could never hurt you?” He lowered his head toward her and touched his lips against hers.
All the breath went out of her body in a whoosh. Fear, which only moments before had been almost overwhelming her, was replaced by something else, something even more potent—lust.
His mouth ate at hers leisurely, tasting, licking, teasing. Her lungs ached for air by the time she parted her lips. He was ready and slid his tongue inside.
She knew she should protest, should pull away, but it was impossible. She was frozen in place, unable to do anything but feel the passion rising between them. The heat, oh God, the heat was incredible. His big body radiated it like a blast furnace. She shivered and he murmured something low and indistinct before pulling her tight against him.
Her breasts were plastered against his massive chest and her feet left the floor as he lifted her, one of his arms around her waist, the other around the back of her thighs. Still he kissed her, his tongue sliding in and out of her mouth, tangling with hers.
She held on to his broad shoulders for support, digging her nails into the fabric of his T-shirt. She’d been kissed many times in her life but, at that moment, she couldn’t remember a single one. She’d never been kissed like this before. It was all consuming. Jacque was totally focused on her and she on him.
Little flickers of heat erupted throughout her body, first at her breasts and then spreading down between her thighs. Her aches and pains were momentarily forgotten in a haze of passion. He shifted her, bringing her breasts even tighter against his chest. The tips were puckered, the nubs pushing against the thin shirt she wore.
“That’s enough, Jacque.” The voice, flat and angry, penetrated her consciousness.
They weren’t alone. What in the name of all that’s holy was she doing? She shoved against Jacque’s shoulders and slowly he released her mouth. Her lips tingled and her skin felt flush.
“If we ignore them maybe they’ll go away.” His husky voice raised goose bumps on her arms. The sensual promise almost swayed her before common sense prevailed.
“Put me down.” There was no way she could make him do anything. He was so much bigger and stronger. Yet she somehow knew he would do as she asked.
Slowly, he set her down, letting her body slide over his until her feet touched the ground. Her belly stroked over the large bulge in the front of his jeans. He was very aroused and not the least bit ashamed to show it.
She was aroused too but didn’t think that was exactly a smart thing to give in to at this juncture. She had to keep reminding herself she’d been kidnapped. “That shouldn’t have happened.” Forget that even contemplating the idea of sleeping with him was utterly crazy. He was a complete stranger, and not even a human one. He was her captor, not her friend. She couldn’t forget that again, no matter how her body yearned to be next to his.
Gwen felt betrayed by her own body. When he’d touched her, her mind had taken a vacation and she’d become a creature of p
ure sensation instead of rational thought. Not good if she hoped to get out of this debacle alive.
Jacque released her and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. She fought a shudder of arousal and squeezed her thighs together. He leaned down and breathed deep as if he was inhaling her.
His lips nuzzled her ear. “I can smell your heat,” he whispered.
Gwen was totally mortified. If he could smell her arousal, could the other men?
Humiliation swamped her and, without thought, she brought her knee up hard and fast. Only Jacque’s animal-quick reflexes kept him from taking a hit in the balls. As it was, she managed to catch him in his thigh.
He laughed. The bastard laughed at her.
Fury exploded in her. He’d taken her life from her, snapped it up as though it was nothing. And to him it probably was. He wasn’t human. Maybe he didn’t even care for her kind. Maybe all his talk of not hurting her was nothing but a line. She’d been stupid to buy into it for even one second.
Tears filled her eyes but she blinked them back. She wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing he’d upset her, of seeing her cry. She spun around and came face to face with Armand and Louis. Armand looked concerned and it appeared genuine. Louis looked angry.
She started walking, slapping away Jacque’s hand when he reached for her again. “If you’re not going to kill me than leave me the hell alone.” She sniffed and a single tear rolled down her cheek, betraying her upset. She ignored it and stomped out of the kitchen. Well, she tried to, but she was too shaky and her limbs were stiff, making it impossible to stomp. Still, the intent was there.
Gwen went back to the bedroom and slammed the door behind her, wincing as the sound pierced her already aching head. There was a lock, so she turned that as well. It was only as she lowered herself onto the bed she realized how crazy her actions were. She’d challenged them and they’d let her go. Hell, she’d tried to emasculate Jacque and he’d laughed.
That’s what hurt her most. The bastard had laughed at her. She was hurt and had lost everything, and he’d laughed. Gwen didn’t know what would happen to her and, right now, she was too tired and hurt to care. She closed her eyes and did her best to block out the loud male voices down the hall.
Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 Page 5
