Vegas Bites

by Dunbar, Natalie; Glass, Seressia; Jeffries, J. M. ; Banks, L. A.

  “Most appreciated,” Malcolm said.

  Butch nodded. “Y’all are deep.”

  “To be sure.” Helmsley bowed, and then snapped his fingers hard.

  The room transformed, all evidence of drugs, broken door hinges, spent rounds, and splintered wood was gone. The hallway and guest doors that had been battered in were repaired. Laurel could only imagine that the first floor had righted itself, too.

  Helmsley smiled at her seductively. “Yes, milady. It has.” He gave her an appreciative glance and chuckled softly as he briefly looked down at Havoc. “I do understand that poor bastard’s dilemma, however.” He sighed and winked at Laurel, letting her know that some things he would never share.

  Laurel gave the debonair old vampire a subtle thank you nod and stepped back as Butch slid his hand into hers. Some things Butch didn’t need to know, like the part about her stroking Havoc’s crotch. But it was a sting, nonetheless. Marcus and the rest of the family gave her and Butch a look, while four huge vampires lifted Havoc and blew through the wall in a black energy tornado. The wall reconstructed immediately after they were gone.

  Sir Helmsley straightened his spine and adjusted his diamond cuff links. “Riff raff and ruffians,” he stated evenly.

  “Can’t have it on my premises,” Malcolm said, entering the hall with Helmsley.

  The entire Temple clan gathered around in the hall with them and stared behind the old leaders: one from one species, one from another, as they coolly strode toward the elevators side-by-side.

  Butch turned to Laurel as Marcus gave him a wink. The family began to disperse in a slow file headed for the nearest restaurant or bar.

  “You coming with us to eat?” Marcus called out, making the family hesitate.

  “No, we’ll catch up with you later,” Laurel said quietly, staring up at Butch.

  Everybody smiled and headed for the elevators.

  “You know you weren’t by yourself in that bar,” Butch murmured as soon as the hall cleared. He touched her cheek. “The vamp squad said they wouldn’t get in it unless you were cornered.”

  She smiled and pushed him away. “Didn’t trust me? I should belt you for that.”

  He followed her toward the stairwell. “I trusted you, didn’t trust them. Didn’t want you to get jumped… be outnumbered… get your gorgeous face slashed by some brute sister… you know?”

  She opened the stairwell door. “I had it covered.”

  “So did I,” he said, glimpsing her backside.

  She laughed. “I suppose you had the vamps shooting your head images of everything I was up to while in that bar?”

  He let the exit close behind them and grabbed her arm, then pulled her to him slowly. “Yeah… you were phenomenal. But I got real worried when they lost the transmission when you came up to the room.”

  “I was all right,” she murmured, kissing the underside of his chin.

  “This sting wouldn’t have gone down smooth without you,” he said quietly, stroking her hair. “The set up was lovely… and you kept a war from going down. The teamwork was off da hook, Laurel.” He took her mouth carefully, still aware of her bruised cheek.

  She sent a soft moan into his mouth as their tongues dueled. Just to hear him give her credit and acknowledge her importance in the operation blew her away. She knew for a strong alpha male like Barron to do that took a lot, and she mentally played with the concept as his tongue played on her palate. Just knowing he’d be gone again very soon made her savor his mouth, imprinting the taste of it into her mind. His scent was already branded there.

  He pulled out of her kiss and sought her hair to nuzzle as his hands caressed her back. “But the way you shifted and fought, girl… the transmission was so hot I was ready to blow everything and rush the bar.”

  She couldn’t even answer him, could only find his mouth again, but this time more aggressively. Oddly, her jaw didn’t hurt. Two A.M., the moon was still full; she was hours into a hard heat, and everything dropped down on her like a ton of bricks. She had multiple male battles and one of her own. Pack approval, Malcolm’s smile that she did good. A war averted. Bad guys served justice. Her family was safe. Five… long… torturous years without mating. Without him. Butch’s baritone making her wanna yelp. Seeing him shift into the gorgeous animal he was… the hot private confession by the elevators. His hands spreading a post-midnight burn across her back and ass… his hard body pressed against hers, making her writhe. Laurel threw her head back and howled.

  Five years, was he out of his mind? Her howl tore one from his throat and crested his canines. He couldn’t get her dress off fast enough and didn’t care who might see. Five years because he wanted freedom—freedom from what? He could get used to Vegas and bounty hunt from here. Damn, there was so much he’d wanted to tell her while her butter-soft skin was stuck against his human form. He had to get it out before he went straight wolf and chased her into the desert. It came out as a panted stutter, but it was the pure truth. It wasn’t delirium talking; he’d known it for a long time.

  “Ain’t been nobody like you, Laurel. Yours is the only heat I want. Marry me.”

  That’s all he got out before she shifted, and he dropped to all fours, then bolted after her.

  The Hunger Within

  by

  J.M. Jeffries

  Acknowledgements

  To Leslie: for your terrific sense of humor and willingness to jump on the carousal lending your support to this endeavor. This book would have been nothing without you.

  To Seressia: for having so much faith and for being a true friend. Friends rule forever!!

  To Natalie: for your commitment and willingness to take a chance.

  To Angelique: This would never have been accomplished without you. You are more than the best, you are truly wonderful.

  To Genice: She ready!!! Thanks for the snazzy cover and for being the voice of reason in the middle of the desert.

  To Deatri: You go, girl, you're the best. Don’t ever stop being you. You’re level-headedness means so very much.

  To Sidney: Thank you from the bottom of our heart for your eagle eye.

  To Mary and Margaret: You are truly the best.

  To Pam: We would never have gotten so far without your critical thinking and intuitive questions.

  To Sherrie: Your support means so much. You keep us moving forward.

  To Dianne: Quick Books is no longer a mystery. Well, mostly not a mystery.

  To all the Wild Women Writers: Don’t go away, we still need you. You’re the best.

  To Manie Barron: You’re priceless.

  From Jackie: Mom, thanks for being there and reminding me of what’s important in life..

  From Miriam:To my husband and children, thank you for allowing me to pursue more than my dreams. I dedicate my future to you.

  —Miriam Pace and Jacqueline Hamilton writing as J.M. Jeffries

  Chapter One

  Solange Warwick paced back and forth across Esther Temple’s opulent office as she tried to think of a way to tell her boss about her decision. She paused at the bank of windows overlooking the casino. A pall of uneasiness hung over the floor. Vamps, Weres and humans were not always a good combination, but the draw of twenty million dollars for the winner of the Texas Hold ‘em tournament was enough to force a truce. Though the damage from the fight between the Temple clan and a rival werewolf gang had been repaired, the memory lingered. Marcus had pulled out all the stops on a publicity campaign to calm the public’s fears and had finally enticed them back to the casino. Laurel’s highly visible security teams on the floor were keeping the peace, but the humans were still skittish. Who knew when an all out war might erupt again?

  She started pacing again. Solange had been Esther and her husband, Julius’s personal assistant for more years than she cared to remember, and her decision to leave the pack had cost her a lot of sleep, a bucketful of tears and a bigger dilemma than she had ever thought possible. She glanced at Esther who was bent ov
er her desk running a French-manicured fingernail down a row of figures.

  Solange let out a pent up breath. “I’ve decided, not to go with you and Julius to Alaska.” Her decision had resulted in untold hours of regret and worry Esther would never understand.

  Esther raised her head, the silky black curls swayed around her ageless face the color of fine Baltic amber. She pulled on the sleeve of her blue Gucci suit. A sure sign she was displeased. “From talking about crawfish and jambalaya to leaving the pack is quite a leap in subject.”

  Solange put her hands behind her back so Esther wouldn’t see them shaking. “I’ve been thinking how to tell you this for days now.”

  Esther leaned back in her black leather desk chair. “My, dear, Julius and I haven’t even decided yet if we’re going to Alaska yet. He’s mulling something over in his mind and won’t confide in me just yet. Though I’ll admit it’s intriguing to have all those open spaces to run in.” The casino had been her life, and the desire to move on to something else had been difficult, but Esther knew she and Julius had to move on, and leave the casino in their son’s more than capable hands if the pack was to survive. The time had come for Malcolm to prove himself. “I’m sure Malcolm will be delighted you’re staying in Las Vegas.”

  Now came the really hard part. She felt safe and secure here. More than safe—happy and satisfied. “I’m not staying in Las Vegas either.” There, she’d announced her intentions to leave the pack, to strike off on her own and brave the world.

  Esther’s eyebrows rose. “Where do you intend to go?”

  Solange knew from experience this was the calm before the storm, she forced herself to stop pacing and face the woman who had raised her from child to woman. Okay, she was intimidated. Who wouldn’t be? Esther Temple was a force to be reckoned with. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll travel.” She hadn’t been to Europe since 1938. “Maybe I’ll go to Paris, or maybe Maine.” Or Venice. She had loved Venice at the turn of the century before the war to end all wars had cast a shroud on everything. “I have plenty of money.”

  Esther rose from behind her desk and planted her hand flat on the blotter, her face suddenly fierce as though she could intimidate Solange. “Don’t you have a better plan than just living in Maine or Paris?”

  Maybe not she admitted to herself, but anything was better than staying here and facing her humiliation, especially now Malcolm had made his intentions known.

  Esther rubbed her forehead. “You’re leaving because of Malcolm, aren’t you?”

  “Partly.” Solange tried not to wince at the memory of the pity in Malcolm’s eyes. “Malcolm is a good man. Good enough to know we would never match.” She darted a glance at Esther who had hoped for a marriage between her son and Solange. But Malcolm knew the pack needed a stronger alpha female than Solange could ever be. Deep down she understood the needs of the pack had to come first, no matter whose feeling got hurt.

  Esther spread her hands. “But, this is your home. We’re your family.”

  How to make Esther understand? “I know you and Julius love me as one of your own, but I’ve never been—” Solange searched for the best words, but as always they eluded her. “—sometimes the others look at me and see,” she paused to gather her elusive thoughts, “my human father.” —the man who had contributed his DNA, but had given her little else.

  “No one blames you, Solange.”

  “Regardless.” Solange tried not to wallow in self-pity for something that had happened before her birth. “My human father was responsible for a great many sins.” And Solange knew those sins of her father descended to the child.

  When Esther and Julius had escaped from the Three Moons Plantation just before the Civil War, they had brought all the children they could, including Solange. Fleeing just ahead of the dogs and slave catchers through alligator infested swamps, they’d been found by a mysterious Indian tribe whose members had been impressed with their courage and given them the gift of the wolf.

  “Sometimes, I think you would have been smarter to leave me behind.” Being the master’s half-breed daughter had brought her a lot of grief. Sorrow she had tried to bury deep out of loyalty to Esther and Julius. But she never truly felt as though she belonged. She was a liability and knew it. Time to move on.

  Esther smacked her hand on the desk. “Had the war not ended, do you know what your destiny would have been had we left you behind?”

  Even though Solange had only been a child, her father had already decided her future. “My father would have sold me to the highest bidder at the quadroon balls.” The balls had been romanticized, but Solange had known the truth of the tawdry sale of women to young planters’ sons who took mistresses and had children with them.

  A low growl escaped from Esther as she walked around her desk to stop in front of Solange. “You would have been the play toy of some rich, white planter.”

  Solange forced herself not to take a step back. When they were alone, Esther never insisted Solange give her the deference befitting her alpha status. “I know.”

  “I couldn’t let that happen to you.” Esther grabbed Solange’s upper arms.

  Her life on the plantation was so long in the past she barely remembered it. Solange had recreated herself into a modern woman and like what she was. “Esther, I’m a hundred and fifty plus years old. I can go out on my own. I go to the grocery store by myself. I bought a car by myself. I even managed to attend college by myself.”

  A tear ran down Esther’s cheek. “But you’re one of my babies.”

  “I feel more like a burden.” The truth had to be said. “I’m the weakest link in this pack.” More than weak. She was protected and kept from so much. In their own way, the pack had kept her a child. “You never let me hunt on the full moon. You never let me…” her voice trailed away. She knew they loved her, but the past was always a guest who never seemed to leave.

  “You’re gentle,” Esther said, “and generous and filled with compassion.”

  All those wonderful traits would have made her a good woman in the human world, but they were a liability in a wolf pack. “In our world those traits are considered weakness.”

  Esther shook her head. “Have any of the other children ever taken advantage of you?”

  No matter who they were, Esther still considered her adopted children, her children, as natural born as her own. “No, but…sometimes they look at me and see the past. A wall has always stood between me and them.” A wall that might not protect her once Julius and Esther left. She was a reminder of the bad times. No overt action would be taken, but Solange was afraid the others would eventually drive her away or kill her. Unlike the human world, wolves were brutal to those who didn’t fit in.

  “Babycakes.” Esther drew Solange to her, cradling her. “I wanted so many things for you. For all my children. I wanted Malcolm to choose you as his mate.”

  Solange rested her head against Esther’s shoulder, still feeling the stinging pain of Malcolm’s rejection. “He needs someone stronger than me. With you gone, the next few years will see the pack in flux until he establishes himself as leader.” He was already a solid, dependable leader, but needed to prove himself worthy of the pack’s loyalty. “I don’t blame him for wanting someone else.” The words stung and tears threatened to spill. “If I were in his shoes, I wouldn’t pick me either. I thought because Malcolm was born after we escaped, I wouldn’t have baggage with him, but I do, and nothing you say is going to change things.”

  “This is the first time you’ve ever defied me. You’re growing up.”

  Solange laughed shakily, grateful Esther understood. “It’s about time.” Though she had a sense of direction, a sense of moving forward, she would miss the pack and the safety it gave her, but she needed freedom

  Esther patted Solange’s cheek. “You will always have a special place in my heart.”

  Solange kissed Esther and they broke apart. “I know, but I really do think you need 2500 crawfish. Julius likes his etouffee and w
ill park himself by the buffet table and not share with anybody.”

  “Thank God we’re werewolves, or he would weight 750 pounds.”

  “You would love every inch of him.”

  Esther’s dark eyes sparkled. “Darling, I have.”

  Solange blushed. At least someone had a love life. Hers was pretty sterile at the moment.

  Esther paged through her address book. “Would you like me to call Dan Castle in Toronto? His pack is small, but strong, and there are several unattached males.”

  “I don’t need you to match-make for me.” She wasn’t doing a great job for herself, but some unwritten law stated she had to marry a wolf, and none of the males she knew suited her. She’d heard about a were-alligator running amok in a lake in California. Maybe she should contact him to see if he needed a mate, though she was more likely to end up as dinner.

  “I can’t help myself.” Esther was the alpha female and tended to mother everyone. “It must be my age.” She glanced at the mirror behind the bar as though searching for wrinkles.

  Solange laughed. “You’re only half way through your life.”

  Esther sighed. “I’m a middle-aged werewolf.”

  “Right. And by the way,” Solange said with a half-smile, “Mr. Harry Belafonte himself called and told me he would love to sing with you at your party.” In the early days when the casino was still getting off the ground, Esther had been the only lounge singer. With her sultry, Lena Horne voice, and her incredible good looks, she’d drawn an audience who remained faithful to this day. Though she occasionally still stopped by the Mardi Gras bar for a song, she didn’t do it often enough for her legion of fans.