Claimed by the Pack_A Wolf-Shifter Menage Romance

by Krista Wolf

  “That’s it baby,” I breathed, reaching back and clutching his head. “Let it go…’

  Baby.

  My body stiffened. I couldn’t believe I’d said the word. It wasn’t my word to give, not any longer. It was a word reserved only for someone else.

  Again, I pushed the recollections from my mind. Alex was gone, two years now. I was still here. Life went on. And this…

  … God I needed this.

  His thrusts slowed as my lover finished filling me with his seed. When he left I felt empty, but still very full. My pussy was literally overflowing with his come. It was running down my thighs. Dripping onto the sheets…

  “Been awhile?” I quipped, looking down.

  He laughed, and together we let go of the headboard and collapsed onto the bed, a naked tangle of arms and legs, our faces still side by side. His eyes fluttered open and stared into mine. On a whim, I leaned forward and kissed him.

  “Northern or southern California?”

  He barely had the wind to laugh again.

  4

  DAMIEN

  She talked in her sleep. Nothing loud really, just a few murmurs and whispers. But it was damned cute. Almost as cute as she was.

  And the girl spooning naked beside me was beyond cute.

  Serena… I even liked the name. Serena from New York. She hadn’t said that part yet, but it was more than a little obvious. Even clear across the world, a New Yorker’s accent was as obvious as a frying pan to the face. Especially for a SoCal guy like me.

  I was propped up on one elbow now, lightly tracing my way across her skin. Letting my fingertips ski down from her arm, past her ribcage and along the curve of her beautiful hips.

  She’d been so hot crushed up against me. Insatiable, even. And no matter what I did to her, she gave it back just as good as she got it.

  I liked that in a woman.

  I saw her shiver, so I pulled the blanket up over her shoulder. It probably wasn’t the best idea, taking her home tonight. Even bringing her here at all. I couldn’t let her go back to her hotel, though. Not after they’d found her. Not after they’d sniffed her out.

  I closed my eyes, slowly replaying the fight in the alley. I’d been lucky things had gone my way. Somehow she’d taken out Boone, just as I’d arrived, and Boone was tough. I only caught the tail end of what happened between them, but what I saw was… well, pretty sobering.

  Christophe was still as strong as I remembered him, but three times as much of an asshole. It actually felt good getting my hands on him again. If the police hadn’t shown up I’d have dragged him deeper into the alley and found out everything he knew, even if I had to beat the teeth out of his mouth. There just wasn’t enough time.

  Serena shifted, and I spooned closer against her. I’d forgotten how good it felt to sleep skin on skin. Nakedness against nakedness, the soft curve of a woman’s ass pressing up against my thighs. Pressing hotly against other parts of me too. Parts that, like me, weren’t exactly ready for sleep just yet.

  For a moment I considered waking her up for round two. She seemed like a round two type of girl. Yet she was sleeping so peacefully, and whimpering adorably to boot. I stared at her for several minutes, just watching her chest rise and fall. Her face was unbelievably beautiful. All relaxed now and smooth with slumber, there wasn’t a single line crossing it.

  She’d handled herself well in the alley, and also in the bar. She wasn’t uncomfortable, or reserved, or shy about what she wanted. Not in the least.

  I liked that in a woman, too.

  I yawned, my mind wandering back to Boone again. I still wasn’t sure what happened there, or how she’d done it. On the way out of the alley I’d slapped him across the face him a few times, watching as he struggled to finally come around. He managed to limp off just barely before the police showed up, so he couldn’t have been that hurt. I was relieved for that at least. Differences aside, he was once my brethren. My brother. My blood.

  My pack.

  I told myself I’d go straight home. Instead, I’d done the more reckless thing — I’d doubled back and tried to find her. Her scent was easy to follow, all sweat and musk and some kind of jasmine-scented perfume that seemed different from most. Things might’ve ended there. They probably should’ve ended there…

  I looked down and there she was, still in my bed. She wriggled into me. Sighed softly in her sleep. I wondered if she were dreaming, and if so, what her dream was about. I wanted it to be about me, of course. Smiling like the smug asshole I am, I let my ego convince me it probably was.

  I closed my eyes for a moment. Was my body already starting to tingle? It didn’t seem right that it could happen so fast. Deep down though, I knew that it had. Already I could feel the connection.

  This was stupid, Damien…

  A good chunk of me didn’t care. It had been way too damned long — a whole year since Karessa. My jaw went tight, imagining where she was right now, what she was doing. Probably curled up with Boone. Licking his wounds.

  I blinked the image away. What, was I supposed to wait forever? Fuck that. Reaching down, I pulled Serena just a little bit closer against me. I’d needed this as much as she did, and she’d needed it badly. That much I knew.

  Yeah right. You don’t know anything, kid.

  Broderick’s voice, ringing in my skull. The voice of reason. The last voice I really wanted to hear right now, because what I’d just done would never be viewed, at least by him, as ‘reasonable.’

  It was easy to distract myself by lifting the covers and peeking at Serena’s ass again. She had a great ass. And she had those two little dimples I loved at the small of her back, too. The ones that showed up when she arched to grab the headboard. The ones I focused on to keep from coming while I drilled into her… yet which had only made me hornier.

  I took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. I really wanted a second round. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe if she were still here, and Broderick hadn’t kicked my ass by then.

  If I was going to sleep at all, it had to be now. Wrapping my arms around my new lover I snuggled in, trying not to notice my body going flush with a rising, prickly heat. It was a heat, I knew, that came with the tingle.

  Shit.

  I was in trouble. Probably more than I realized. But there was nothing to be done about it now, so I allowed my eyes to finally close.

  Maybe if I was lucky I’d even dream about her.

  And I was always lucky.

  5

  SERENA

  It wasn’t yet dawn when I awoke, but it was pretty damned close.

  Damien lay naked beside me, snoring away. It was a sexy snore though. A manly one. His broad surfer’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm that was almost hypnotic. Especially since I couldn’t stop staring at it.

  I reached out and touched him, just to make sure he was real. He’d been real enough last night. The pleasant soreness between my legs could attest for that, not to mention the muscles in my thighs that hadn’t been stretched like that since… well, since…

  Since Alex.

  Alex. My partner, my mentor. My lover. The man who’d brought me into the Hallowed Order and changed the very course of my life. It was Alex who’d recognized my power. Who’d brought me into the secret fold where I was taught to harvest it, use it, and especially, to control it.

  It was also Alex who’d left this earth too soon, and too abruptly. Who’d been ripped so cruelly from my life, just two years ago next month.

  I rubbed my eyes while taking in long, deep breath. I had to stop. This wasn’t about Alex now, and it wouldn’t be again. This was about healing, about moving on. About living my life.

  And for once, at long last, finally taking care of myself.

  The dim light filtering in through the window illuminated my blonde hero’s flawless, surfer’s skin. His smooth pectorals were broken only by two beautiful round nipples, which like the rest of him were absolutely perfect. Symmetrical in every way.

 
I had to resist the urge to bite one of them. They just looked too good. Temptation got the best of me, and I ended up compromising by pressing my lips softly against one. I flicked my tongue out, daringly, and it stiffened noticeably in my mouth.

  Damien stirred, but didn’t wake. In a way, that was disappointing. The better part of me really wanted him awake… wanted him to roll over and take me again, softer and slower this time, in the lazy morning warmth of this sea of blankets.

  I could mount him…

  I lifted the sheet and looked beneath. He was already hard. Morning wood no doubt, but sometimes, as an old ex boyfriend once showed me, those could be the best erections ever.

  I sighed, half in contentment, half with the frustration of wanting more. Another time.

  Instead I slid from the bed, extracting myself without rousing him. I grabbed a T-shirt from his clean pile and pulled it down over my nakedness. My panties were already on — he’d screwed me in them the whole crazy time. From now on they’d be my special panties, though at the moment they were still uncomfortably wet.

  I stretched as I made my way from the bedroom. Damien’s apartment was small but clean. There was no sense of style really, but what more could you expect from a transplanted SoCal surfer landlocked in the heart of Paris? I was wearing a Mr. Zogg’s Sex Wax T-shirt for Christ’s sake.

  It’s not like I was looking to escape, either — the whole self-imposed ‘walk of shame’ guilt trip was never really my thing. I’d gone home with this guy knowingly, with a clear conscience, realizing — no, hoping — full well what was about to happen. In summary, we’d fucked. I fucked him and he’d sure as hell fucked me. We both came like crazy, all over each other, and somewhere along the line one of us almost got turned into a human headboard.

  That was pretty much it. It was just that simple. So now, as my lover slept in a warm puddle of our combined sex, there was really only one thing left to do:

  It was time to raid his fridge.

  As I crossed the little kitchen an open package of cookies jumped out at me. Or maybe they were crackers. ‘Tea Biscuits’ they were called. How very European… and confusing.

  Europe…

  It wasn’t that I hated Europe. Paris was actually quite beautiful. I resented Europe as a whole though, for a singular — and probably very stupid — reason: it had been the place where Alex was taken from me.

  London, to be more precise. And yet that city was beautiful too. What happened wasn’t London’s fault, and it had taken me a long time to realize it hadn’t been my fault either. For a while I’d blamed the Order, just for sending us on the assignment to begin with, and after that, Xiomara.

  Hell, it was easy to blame Xiomara. For a while she even let me. I appreciated the cranky old bitch for that. At the time, I kinda needed it.

  Shaking thoughts of Alex from my head, I turned my attention back to the fridge. As with most bachelors I’d dated, it was mostly empty. I saw the better part of a twelve-pack, a half-eaten sandwich wrapped in loose brown paper, and the obligatory tub of fake butter. There were a few eggs. A coagulated bottle of hot sauce. An unwrapped candy bar with a lion on it.

  I was closing the door in disappointment when I saw the one thing universal to both Europe and America: a container of milk.

  There are few guilty pleasures in life more forbidden than drinking milk straight out of the carton. I smiled fiendishly and went for it. The container was glass, which only made the liquid seem more cold and delicious as it slid down my eager throat. One sip turned into a gulp. Then three gulps. From there things snowballed, and by the time I stopped I’d already finished three-quarters of the liter.

  “You’re a fucking barbarian,” I scolded myself, laughing in solitude as I wiped milk from my lips. I hadn’t realized I was this thirsty. My body felt hot too. Tingly. Like someone had rubbed warming lotion all over my skin.

  Maybe I was coming down with something. That would be just perfect. Considering I hadn’t even started my assignment yet, a cold would be just what I needed. Still, it wasn’t my fault I hadn’t been contacted. I’d been following orders, staying put in that damned hotel like Xiomara said. At least until last night.

  You should probably go, the voice of reason told me.

  I considered it. Through the tiny kitchen window, the dawn sky had just begun to glow orange.

  Or you should probably wake Damien up and fuck him again, the little voice on my other shoulder whispered.

  I shrugged them both off temporarily as I tilted the bottle of milk back to my lips. I was still thirsty. Might as well finish it off.

  The front door suddenly flew open and I jumped, spilling milk all over myself. It ran down my neck, my chest… it soaked into the fabric of Damien’s formerly-clean Sex Wax T-shirt. I whirled and a man was standing there in the doorway, wrestling with a set of keys.

  He was tall and gorgeous, with close-cropped blonde hair and a look of utter confusion on his face. His Scandinavian blue eyes locked on me and he tilted his head, curiously.

  “Uh… hi.” I said cheerily, still dripping milk.

  6

  SERENA

  I shot my gaze to the left and there it was: another door, another bedroom. Apparently Damien had a roommate.

  Oops.

  It wasn’t something I’d realized, or even looked for on the way in. We’d been too busy face-hugging all the way to his bedroom.

  “Umm… I’m Serena?”

  Stupidly I put my hand out. If my body was flush and tingling before, it was bright red now. There I was, standing in this man’s kitchen, wearing nothing but his roommate’s T-shirt. Oh yeah, and the last of his milk.

  “Hey Broderick.”

  I turned again and Damien was there, yawning from his doorway, rubbing his eyes. Tousled blonde hair covered half his face. And he was shirtless, wearing nothing but his boxers.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  Broderick — if that’s what his name was — indeed looked mad. He stormed into the kitchen and slammed the door, brushing past me to throw his keys on the table. When he flung open a drawer and produced a dish towel, I put my hand out to receive it.

  Instead of giving it to me, he dropped to his knees and began cleaning the floor with it.

  “Please tell me you brought her here because you received word,” said Broderick, from my feet.

  Damien was looking down at the floor now. He said nothing.

  “Tell me you got the order? Because I sure didn’t.”

  “Broderick, listen—”

  The tall man shot to his feet and lunged in Damien’s direction. He shook the wet towel in his face.

  “Don’t tell me to listen! Not when you haven’t been listening to a single thing I tell you!”

  The whole thing was suddenly beyond uncomfortable. I pulled up the dry part of the T-shirt to wipe my face, realized I’d just exposed most of my body, then edged my way toward Damien’s bedroom.

  “And where are you going?” Broderick demanded in a hard, unplacable accent.

  “To get dressed?”

  “Stay here in a minute,” he ordered. “We need to work this out before you go anywhere.”

  Ahhhh. So that was it. I glanced at Damien, then back at Broderick again. Now things really were getting weird.

  “Look,” I told them, putting my hands up defensively. “I don’t know what’s going on here, and I’m sorry if I got in the middle of something. As far as I knew, Damien was single. Ready to mingle.”

  I couldn’t believe I’d made the joke. It was a one-in-a-thousand shot at levity in a terrible situation. One that fell utterly flat.

  “Single?” Broderick looked astonished. “Is that what you think?”

  “He never told me he was involved with—”

  “Why does she think that?” he yelled, whirling on Damien. “What the hell have you been telling her?”

  He was seething now, his big shoulders square and tight. I could see the muscles in his neck, flexing. The outline of his ja
w…

  Shit.

  I gulped hard. All of a sudden there was a lump the size of a baseball in my throat.

  He looks just like Alex.

  “I haven’t been telling her anything,” Damien countered. “And we’re damned lucky I ran into her at all.” I could see him getting angry now also, or at least trying to. It was a false anger though. A defense mechanism more than anything else.

  “Lucky?”

  “I brought her back here to protect her, Broderick. I found her in an alley. She was being attacked.”

  The taller blonde stopped for a moment. This seemed to change things.

  “Who?”

  “Boone and Christophe.”

  Broderick stiffened. So did I.

  “You knew who those guys were?” I demanded of Damien. “And you didn’t say anything?”

  He looked disappointed. Like I’d found out something I shouldn’t have. Yet there wasn’t any deception, none that I could sense anyway. It felt almost something like he’d wanted to tell me, but just hadn’t gotten the chance.

  “So you brought her back here?” Broderick was asking.

  “Yes.”

  “And where did she sleep?”

  At this, Damien and I both looked at each other. Probably just a little too quickly.

  Broderick’s hands were fists now. Controlled fists, but still fists. “Where did she sleep, Damien?”

  His voice was low. Gravelly. Seething.

  Damien heaved a resigned sigh. “In my room.”

  Broderick’s eyes unfocused, his body going totally and utterly still. His complete lack of movement was almost eerie. Like a lighting bolt had flashed… and we were just sitting there, waiting for the thunder.

  “In your room?” he growled.

  “Yes.”

  “And you MATED HER?”

  “Mated?” I repeated, turning the word over in my mouth. It tasted exactly as strange as it sounded. “MATED?”

  I wasn’t the type of girl who minded getting a little kinky now and then… or let’s face it, even a lot kinky. But whatever was going on here was too bizarre — even for me. I wasn’t sticking around for this.