Jacque had left a huge, fluffy white towel on the vanity for her and she used it to dry off before wrapping it around herself. She picked up the clothing she’d worn earlier and dumped them into the wicker hamper. She wanted clean clothes now that she’d had a bath. She’d raid Jacque’s dresser drawers and closet again.
The sound of male voices wafted down the hallway and into the bedroom as she dug through the dresser and hurried to get dressed. She wished she had her own clothes. That would make her feel more confident. But Jacque’s clothing was the next best thing. Wearing one of his shirts and a pair of ancient track pants that she’d rolled up several times so she wouldn’t trip on the hem made her feel as though he had his arms wrapped around her. False security, but it was all she had.
In the end, she was a virtual stranger and these men were his friends, his clan or pack or whatever they called themselves. She couldn’t forget for another minute that she was a threat to them, expendable. Hot sex aside, these creatures hadn’t stayed hidden all this time by being careless.
Gwen slipped on another pair of socks and wished she had her sneakers. She was tempted to open the window and make a run for it, which was probably why Jacque had taken them away when she’d been sleeping earlier.
“Get a grip,” she muttered. Playtime was over. The bath had revived her body and spirit. She was going to try to forget about the amazing orgasm she’d had, although she had a sneaky suspicion that was going to be next to impossible. It was time for her to do whatever it took to get her life back.
Chapter Eight
Jacque was not in a good mood when he entered the kitchen. Gwen was in his bathtub, naked with hot water lapping at her soft skin, and he wanted to be with her, not with his brother and friends. But duty called and her protection came before everything else.
There was no sign of Armand, and Jacque knew he was out patrolling their perimeter and would alert them to any trouble. The other three men were staring down the short corridor toward his bedroom. They looked at him and then back down the hallway. The unmistakable sound of water splashing almost made him groan aloud. Instead, he glared at one of the men sprawled on his kitchen chairs. “Did you have any trouble?”
Gator shook his head as he pulled his blue-eyed gaze away from the hall. “The car is a write-off. It’s not worth the money it would take to repair it.”
Jacque’s gut clenched. Gwen could have been killed. He took a deep breath and slowly released it. None of that mattered now. She was here, in his home, in his bathtub. Once again his cock stirred and he swore beneath his breath.
“Are you having trouble, brother?”
He shot Louis a dirty look, knowing his brother was picking up on his unsteady emotions. “No trouble at all.” He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “In fact, things are going quite well.”
It was Louis’s turn to swear, and Jacque had a brief pang at baiting his brother. But Louis had to understand that Gwen belonged to him.
“I think we might have had some company while we were loading up her car.” Cole crossed his right leg over his left knee and leaned back. The chair creaked ominously under his massive bulk.
“Who?” Jacque knew who it was before he even asked.
“I didn’t see him, but I caught a whiff of Cajun scum.” Cole tapped his fingers against his knee.
“Andre.” Andre Dubois was his father’s flunky, the one he called in to do his dirty work. Jacque had known the other wolf his entire life and had never liked him. Andre enjoyed stalking innocent people. He enjoyed hurting them and he especially enjoyed killing.
“Fuck.” Louis raked his fingers through his short-cropped hair. His eyes were dark with worry. They all knew what Andre’s presence meant.
“He’s been watching us and we led him straight to Gwen.” Jacque freely admitted it even as he cursed his carelessness. He didn’t care if his father had some cur watching him and his small pack. They could take care of themselves.
But Gwen was different. For one thing, she was human. When Jacque had gone looking for her he hadn’t given a thought to her life, only to protecting his own. Now that was all changed. He’d do anything to protect Gwen. Anything.
As if he’d summoned her, he heard the gentle patter of her feet against the hardwood floor. He smelled her before he saw her, a fresh welcoming scent of his soap mixed with her unique perfume.
He swallowed a smile when she stepped into view. She was wearing another of his shirts but she’d paired it with an old pair of gray track pants. She’d had to roll the bottoms up several times to keep from tripping on the hem. It should have made her appear child-like. Instead, it emphasized her femininity, the delicate lines of her body hidden beneath the male clothing. The neck of the shirt was open in a V, letting him catch a glimpse of the curve of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts swayed gently with each step she took. He licked his lips, still able to taste her cream, and it made him hard.
She hesitated for the briefest of moments when she entered the room, but then her chin went up and she squared her shoulders. Pride filled Jacque as she studied the other men in the room. He knew she was cataloging their appearance and committing details to memory. He’d have done the same.
Her blonde hair was damp from her bath and had curled slightly at her nape. He wanted to play with the golden locks while he nibbled on the curve of her neck. The muscles in his legs clenched and his balls tightened.
She smiled at Louis and Jacque wanted to punch his brother in the mouth when the bastard went to her and took her hand in his. “How are you feeling, chère?”
“Much better, thank you.”
Louis touched the small bandage on her head and trailed his fingers over the bruises on her face. Jacque took a step toward his brother, intending to pound some sense into him.
Gwen’s smile wobbled and she took a step back. Louis’s hand fell back to his side, and Jacque heaved a sigh, pulling the tattered remains of his control around him. This wasn’t like him at all. He didn’t like not being in control of himself and his environment.
“Gwen, I want you to meet Cole Blanchard and Gator Rollins.” He indicated the two men who were watching her so avidly. “Cole is the large one and Gator is—”
“The good-looking one,” Gator interrupted. He stood and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
Gwen stared at Gator, glanced over at Jacque, and then took the proffered hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Jacque could see Gwen was conflicted about shaking Gator’s hand, but curiosity won out. After all, they had kidnapped her. Somehow he had to get her past that. His chest tightened and his heart began to race as he realized what it was he wanted from Gwen. He wanted her to want him. Hell, he wanted her to love him. And wasn’t that a kick in the ass.
With his people, attraction was everything. Didn’t matter if you loved someone. If the animal attraction was there and the chemistry was right, you mated. But Jacque wanted more than that.
He had far too many memories of his mother’s sad eyes and fading beauty, clothed in worn housedresses more suited to a woman from fifty years ago. She was a gentile lady with refined tastes, while his father was rough and uncouth. He hadn’t even tried to accommodate his wife but had done his best to kill any spirit she might have possessed. Jacque didn’t want that to happen to Gwen.
Not that it was likely to happen. Gwen possessed a courage that few humans or even werewolves did. She’d stood up to them, not panicking and assessing all opportunities as they arose. She’d tried to bail out of his truck on the trip here, but he sensed she was now biding her time and getting the lay of the land while she got stronger.
She’d taken the entire kidnapping in stride, doing her best to escape. Even now, he knew she was thinking up ways to get her life back as it was. But that wasn’t going to happen and he had to make her understand that option was no longer available to her, and not just because he wanted her.
She had a target pai
nted on her back, thanks to Hector Canton’s indiscretion and Pierre LaForge’s hatred. There would be many who would stop at nothing to kill her.
Jacque was under no illusion that because she’d allowed him to touch her, to intimately taste her body, it was an indication she’d given up. He understood the basic need to taste life when death blew its icy breath down your spine. She’d wanted to feel alive and sex was the most basic way to achieve that.
But it was more to him than simple biology. Much more. Gwen was quickly becoming a fire in his blood, a gnawing ache in his body, a craving in his mind. She was his mate and he longed to discover everything there was to know about her. She was brave and incredibly intelligent. She was also resilient and beautiful. That she was totally human mattered not a bit to him and, if anything, it made her even more precious.
The women of his former pack fell into two categories—they were either total bitches or had been beaten down and defeated by the life they lived. Some, like his mother, were good women stuck in a bad situation, forced to defer to her mate or suffer the consequences. Others were as mean and conniving as their men folk. There was no in-between in his former world. Any softer emotions were seen as weakness and either stamped out or taken advantage of.
Just the thought made Jacque sick to his stomach. He wanted more out of life than constantly having to fight for everything he had and worry about who might attack and try to take it from him. He didn’t want to constantly fight with some she-wolf, or worse, be mated to one who feared him.
Gwen was none of those things. She was intelligent and strong, but she also had a layer of kindness and compassion that drew him. Jacque didn’t consider those traits to be a weakness but a strength.
She also knew what he was and she’d still allowed him to touch her, relaxed enough to orgasm at his touch. She was quickly becoming everything to him, but he wanted even more from her. He wanted everything—her trust, her body and her love.
Gwen swallowed hard and did her best to seem at ease in a room full of huge men. Jacque and Louis were intimidating enough on their own, but when you added in two other men, one of whom was absolutely huge, the room didn’t seem quite large enough to hold all the testosterone. The only one missing was Armand, which was a shame because as imposing as he was, there was something about him that put her at ease.
The man currently holding her hand was tall and broad with jet-black hair that was short in the back and slightly longer in the front. He was wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt, which barely contained his biceps. Tattoos peeked out from beneath the fabric and ran down his arms, but she couldn’t quite make out what they were. His piercing blue eyes traveled up and down her body and she knew he missed nothing. She wanted to tug the shirt closer around her neck and wished she’d done up another button or two instead of leaving it partially open. In spite of his charm, his appearance screamed badass, and she was glad she wasn’t alone in the room with him.
The tension in the room was palpable. Gwen ignored it and forged onward. She tugged on her hand and was relieved when Gator released it without a struggle. And what kind of name was Gator anyway? Was it a nickname? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know how he’d gotten it.
She turned to the other stranger in the room. He was still seated but there was no mistaking the fact the guy was huge. The chair was sturdy and wooden, like the rest of the pieces in the kitchen, but beneath this man the chair looked almost delicate.
Jacque and his brother were big, but this guy was massive. Shaggy, dark-blond hair fell around shoulders that were incredibly wide. His eyes were a clear, grassy green and topped with thick lashes. On any other man they might have looked feminine, but he was much too masculine for them to be considered pretty. They were arresting, for sure, and saw everything. He had to be more than six and a half feet tall, maybe six-eight or nine, and all of it was solid muscle.
He nodded but didn’t get up, for which Gwen was thankful. She was feeling slightly better but not really up to taking on a room full of men. Werewolves. The word whispered through her brain even though she was doing her best not to think about it. She was surrounded by werewolves.
“You should sit down.” Jacque strode to her side, put his arm around her waist and ushered her to a vacant chair. It was too close to the others for her peace of mind, but there was nothing to do but suck it up and put on a brave face. He stood behind her, resting his hand on the back of the chair.
Having him hover behind her made her nervous and she smoothed down the tail end of the shirt before fiddling with one of the buttons. When she realized what she was doing she made herself stop.
Was he remembering what they’d done in the bedroom? Did the other men know what they’d done? It horrified her to think so. It wasn’t like her to engage in sexual activities with a man she barely knew and especially not one who’d kidnapped her. Not that she’d ever been kidnapped before or had any basis for comparison. But she knew she wouldn’t have had sex with just anyone, in spite of all appearances. She didn’t want them to think she was cheap or easy.
Gwen reminded herself she had to act self-assured no matter how she felt inside. “So,” she began, not quite sure where to begin. She should have eavesdropped on their conversation before coming out, but she assumed they probably would have heard her. She didn’t know much about werewolves, but she’d gathered that their senses were much more developed than a humans.
“So?” Louis smiled as he pulled his chair closer to her.
“What are you guys doing here? And where exactly is here?” Better to go on the offensive and get all the information she could. In her world, knowledge was power.
“I told you we’re in North Carolina. And we all live here.” Jacque indicated the other men sitting around the table.
“And that tells me absolutely nothing.”
Gator snickered and one corner of Cole’s mouth kicked upward. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close. Gwen didn’t bother to look at Louis. She knew he was smiling just as she knew Jacque was scowling at her. It amazed her how quickly she was coming to know how both brothers would react in any given situation.
Jacque heaved a sigh, playing the put-upon male to perfection. She wanted to swat him but refrained. Barely. “If you want to talk, I need to get comfortable.” With that statement, he plucked her out of the chair and sat back down with her in his lap.
“Jacque.” She was appalled at his actions. Last thing she wanted was for the others to think there was more between them than captor and captive.
“Gwen,” he teased, drawling her name. He hooked a lock of hair behind her ear and trailed his fingers down her cheekbone. Gator chuckled and Cole cleared his throat. She could feel Louis’s silent disapproval.
“Let me up.”
“No.” He ignored her struggle, banding one massive arm around her to keep her in place. It wouldn’t do her any good to fight him. They’d already played this game and she knew he was too strong for her to escape from his grasp unless he let her.
She settled back down, squirming slightly until she felt a hard bulge digging into her side. If he was going to keep her on his lap she wasn’t going to make it comfortable for him. He tightened his grip, practically squeezing the breath out of her.
“Comfortable?” he gritted out from between clenched teeth.
“Not really.” She gave him a sugary smile. “But it will have to do.”
Gator threw back his head and laughed, the rich sound filling the room. Even Louis’s mouth twitched and Cole managed a full smile.
“Enough,” Jacque commanded. “What do you want to know?”
The fact that he was willing to talk frightened her. As much as she wanted to know everything that was going on, she was afraid. The more she knew, the less likely her chances of ever going home. A heavy lump formed in the pit of her stomach when she finally understood there truly was no going back. For better or worse, her life’s path had altered. There was no unlearning the knowledge she had.
If she c
ould go back in time would she have turned down the meeting with Hector Canton that had started her down this road? She started to say an unequivocal yes, but paused when she felt thick muscles ripple beneath her butt and a heavy arm give her a comforting squeeze. If she’d said no to Hector she would never have met Jacque, never have discovered the world of the werewolf.
Her answer was no longer cut and dry. As much as she wanted to go back to the way things were, she wasn’t sure she wanted a future that didn’t include her meeting Jacque. Not that they had a future or anything. It was intellectual curiosity, pure and simple. That was it. It had nothing to do with the way his arms felt around her or the way her body yearned for his touch. And it certainly had nothing to do with the way her lips tingled when he kissed her.
“Gwen?”
She tilted her head back and stared up at him. “Tell me everything.” There was a connection, a moment of profound understanding between them. They knew their meeting had changed both their lives. Whether it was for good or bad remained to be seen, but Gwen had a sinking feeling in her belly. Her instincts were screaming it was going to get worse, much worse, before it had a chance to get better.
Chapter Nine
Jacque pondered Gwen’s question as he watched her. Something had changed. He saw it in the way she looked at him, felt it in the way her body seemed to sink into his. He was still as hard as a rock, still thinking of ways to get her back for teasing him, but he shoved that aside for now. His life was at a crossroads and so was hers. She deserved to know the truth.
It surprised him that he trusted her not to expose their secrets to the world. What that made him, he wasn’t sure. Only a few days ago, he would have called any male an idiot who would so freely trust a woman he just met. But it felt right to him. And Jacque had always trusted his instincts.
He sighed and inhaled, drawing her sweet scent into his nostrils. Having her this close was a torment and a comfort. It was a dichotomy, just like the woman herself. “Where to begin,” he pondered.
Wolf at the Door: Salvation Pack, Book 1 Page 8
