by Krista Wolf
“She could be,” Damien allowed. “When she wasn’t being bossy or insecure.”
“Or both,” Broderick added, draining his own glass.
Over the course of the evening they’d moved closer to me in our booth, and that was fine by me. Broderick’s big leg was nestled snugly against mine. And Damien’s hand rested lightly but suggestively on my opposite knee.
“And what about… you know…”
They glanced across to each other, sharing a look.
“What about what?” Damien asked coyly.
“You know what.” I nodded down at his drink. “Don’t make me toss that in your lap,” I warned. “Like I did with your friend.”
His eyes sparkled fearlessly as they locked onto mine. For a half-second I flashed back to our night together. To the feeling of his hands closing over mine. To the sensation of him entering me as I gripped the headboard. The feeling of fullness…
“It was every bit as hot as you can imagine,” Damien said. He didn’t look down, or away. In fact, his eyes held mine captive. “We did things to Karessa that only two men can do to a woman. Incredible things. Wondrous things.”
I felt myself going wet at the description. As much as I wanted him to continue, I almost wanted him to stop.
“And she satisfied us in every possible way...”
I gulped hard. I could smell them, breathe them both in. Each of them had a unique and distinct scent that reminded me exactly of what we’d done together. Trying to ignore it was only making it worse.
“Do you want more in the way of details?” teased Damien. “Or—”
“No, I’m good,” I breathed. Underneath the table I squeezed my legs together, hoping they wouldn’t notice. But they were wolves. If their senses were anywhere near as heightened as mine, they already knew.
Broderick called for the check, and I was grateful for the distraction. Yet at the same time, there was a new knot in my stomach. And for once, it was one entirely unrelated to sex.
Jealousy.
I didn’t know why, but all of a sudden I was fiercely jealous. Jealous of Karessa — a woman I’d never even met, and someone I barely even knew about. Yet it was my own fault, really. I’d gone fishing for answers I really didn’t want. It shouldn’t have been any surprise that I found exactly what I was looking for.
You’re being stupid, Serena. This whole thing is—
I looked up again and they standing beside the table, both staring down at me. They were breathtakingly handsome. I saw Damien’s flowing hair, his bright smile. Broderick’s big arm, swinging down to offer me one strong, masculine hand.
“Come with us,” he said. “We’ve got something to show you.”
24
SERENA
I’d never been one for museums… at least not until I met Alex.
Alex had shown me the intrinsic beauty of history. He’d taken me places and shown me things I wouldn’t normally have given half a shit about. But he cared about them, and that was enough for me. Enough for me to eventually appreciate some of the places we went, especially when we were assigned to Europe.
At one time, Europe had been magical for me. A place where the lore behind every piece of architecture could date back millennia instead of a mere handful of centuries. As a member of the Hallowed Order, I was often required to know about the past. But I’d never really immersed myself in it. Not until Alex.
For this reason I was a little choked up standing in the cour Napoléon, looking down at the Louvre. By night the pyramid of glass and crystal was especially beautiful, lit up by spotlights and a warm interior glow.
It was a place Alex had always wanted to take me. A place we just never got around to…
“C’mon, we need to hurry,” Broderick said, dragging me along. “They’re going to close soon.”
Once inside the museum my heart caught in my throat. The whole place was dazzlingly beautiful. Everywhere I looked I was impressed by the sheer scope of it all; the artistry, the sculptures, the decorations that flowed seamlessly from exhibit to exhibit.
The museum was mostly empty, and we were able to move through it with ease. Still clasping hands I followed them below ground, to where the oldest and more medieval portions still existed. We passed by marble statues, colorful tapestries. Frescoes, faded from years of sunlight and brought here to preserve them in the more dimly lit areas.
Finally we stopped. Broderick pointed, and before us was a small series of paintings, all of a similar subject.
Werewolves.
“This is our history,” he said almost proudly. “Not that full moon, silver bullet, crosses and holy water shit from Hollywood. The real thing.”
“I thought crosses and holy water were vampires?” I said distractedly.
“Whatever.”
I examined one of the pieces. In it, a witch-turned-werewolf was devouring villagers, tearing them to shreds with their teeth. It was brutal and savage.
“Seems unnecessarily violent,” I said.
Broderick nodded. “This is what people believed,” he said. “Most lore is grounded by kernels of truth, though. That doesn’t mean the books and artwork get everything right.”
Damien, who’d been silent until now, stepped forward. “Then again, there could’ve been packs like this,” he said. “Packs that took a different direction, like ours is about to.”
My eyes scanned left to right, moving from piece to piece. I saw a painting of humans with wolf-heads, standing in a circle, performing some kind of ceremony. Another of a blue wolf attacking a priest, while another sprang up from behind.
There were wolves that breathed fire. Wolves attacking children, then being hunted. Wolves trapped in wells, by men with spears.
“Karessa took you here, didn’t she?” I asked. “She’s the one who showed you this.”
Broderick nodded again. “She thought it good to know our origins,” he said. “Even in today’s and age.”
I supposed it made sense. I tried imagining what it would be like, if I’d been ‘made’ the way Broderick and Damien were. How much I’d want to know about what I was. How bitter I’d be about my own forced ancestry.
Karessa…
I found myself hating her for the connection she had with them. The connection I felt with them even now. I wondered how much of it was instinctual, given to me by the ‘call’ or the ‘pull’ or whatever it was they’d called it.
And how much of it was just plain old me.
You love them.
The admission was powerful. Strange. Wonderful. All at the same time.
The both of them…
It shouldn’t have been possible, and yet somehow it was. I tried chalking it up to circumstance. To the closeness of being hunted and fighting a common enemy. I tried even convincing myself it was because Broderick looked so damned much like Alex! Or that Damien reminded me of a more reckless, carefree time in my life.
Or that I was just plain lonely.
In the end though, I guess none of it really mattered. I was in love with them. I loved their honesty, their impetuousness. They way they’d protected me, each of them, from harm.
And of course I loved their hard, beautiful bodies. Their warmth. Their nakedness, pressed up against me…
A soft bell sounded, followed by a recorded announcement. The museum was closing.
“Come on,” I said, pushing between them. “Xiomara might not know it yet, but she was nice enough to spring for the Executive Suite.” I looped one arm through each of theirs. “And that bitch owes me a bubble bath…”
25
KARESSA
They’d gotten away somehow. Again.
Damn.
It was the only thing I could think about. The only thing that mattered, this night, and the night before, and every time I’d called them to mind over the past several months.
Only this time they took something. This time, they actually won.
I was still seething at the news Damien’s totem had been
stolen. Or rather, stolen back. That wasn’t the point though. The point was they’d promised me it would be safe. That in keeping it on them, the three of them could protect it better than it resting in any one location.
I looked down at Christophe, sweating beneath me, my palms splayed out over his heaving chest. He writhed upward, lifting his ass from the bed. Pushing himself as far inside me as my body would allow.
“Give me more,” I ordered. “Deeper.”
And yet even he had failed me. My beautiful, beautiful Christophe. The successor. The alpha. The one I’d counted on to fill Broderick’s shoes.
He began thrusting harder, working to give me every last inch of his manhood. Shoving it deeper into my grinding, churning womb.
“More…”
There was a fire in my belly — an itch I just couldn’t scratch, no matter what I tried. One that hadn’t been scratched since… well, not in a long time.
It was unfortunate, losing them the way I had. Broderick and Damien had been intelligent. Fearless. As lovers, they’d been as beautiful as they were insatiable.
Maybe you moved too quickly. Maybe you shouldn’t have—
No. Bullshit. In the end, they’d made their choice. They’d gone against us — against me — and for that, there was no turning back for them. At one point maybe, if they’d got on their knees and begged. But certainly not now.
Not after her.
“Are you sure he has it?” I growled, my hands clawing into my lover’s chest. I went just a little too hard. Christophe flinched as ten red streaks sprang up across his hard pectorals, some even trailing blood.
The sudden bucking motion felt great inside me, though.
“Are you sure you didn’t drop it in the courtyard, or have it torn from your neck during your struggle in the underhalls?”
Christophe responded by digging his fingers deep into the supple flesh of my hips. Pain flared, causing me to gasp sharply. But it was just enough pain. Exactly enough. He shifted into me and thrust hard against my gyrating hips, causing a wave of intense pleasure to ripple through my body.
YES!
He fucked me hard, using his strong arms to keep me centered on his body. Rocking me back and forth along the length of his hard shaft, a motion designed to get him off more than me.
This is why I mated him.
He was taking what he wanted, as an alpha should. Not really caring for my own needs at all. That was okay though. I knew well enough to take care of myself.
He reminds me of Broderick…
I squeezed hard with my inner muscles, milking him inside me. I didn’t stop until I heard him groan,
And of Damien.
Three. I was mated to three now. And three of course, was better than two. Or so I’d told myself, after they’d left.
In reality though, only Christophe was this satisfying. Boone too, but to a much lesser extent. And Lionel…
Lionel not at all.
I sighed, reveling in the feel of being taken hard and deep. Of being dominated by someone, even just temporarily. I could feel the heat again, rising up, coming from that special place. Making me want to let it all go. Making me want to surrender.
It’s still not like it was, though.
The voice in my head made me angry. I shoved it away in frustration, just as Boone leaned in to kiss me from the side. I’d been neglecting him. Probably intentionally. His fault though, for not taking what he needed.
He’s not like Damien or Broderick. Not at all…
I turned my head. Boone followed with his lips, kissing my neck, but I only thrashed away. I could come, if he’d leave me alone. It was the exact opposite of what I was used to.
“Finish me,” I groaned in frustration. “Christophe, I—”
He knew enough to do the right thing. Rolling me onto my back, he pushed my legs over my head and began screwing me with hard, deep thrusts. His hands clamped my ankles, and I could feel the enormous strength there. The tension in his forearms, as he tried to hold back.
It felt good. Finally! My eyelids fluttered as I gave myself over. My hands clawed out for something… anything at all. They finally settled over the bulge of his biceps, triggering my orgasm.
“FUCK…”
I clutched him against me, even as my core contracted around him. Christophe’s scrotum, pressed heavy and full against my entrance, began twitching and pulsing as he dumped himself inside me.
Oh God…
For the one shining moment we were one. Two beautiful bodies, melded against one another, sharing in the highest levels of mutual pleasure. Our mouths sought one other’s as we rode through over the pinnacle and down the other side, coasting through euphoric ecstasy, breaking free — at least for a minute — of anything and everything else.
Moments later he was nothing more to me than a hot, heaving sack of muscle and sinew. I rolled out from beneath him, my own chest rising and falling with each gasping breath.
“Now go…” I breathed. “See if you can find them.”
Christophe allowed himself a minute, then rolled off the bed. His expression was loyalty. Loyalty and something else. Whatever it was, I didn’t care. Outside of our sexual energy, there wasn’t enough of a connection between us to care.
I watched him leave, admiring his nakedness from behind. His body was built to please. For that at least, I was thankful.
“Karessa…”
Boone had been waiting there patiently, as usual. He pushed forward, seeking to enter me again. I clamped my legs closed. He looked back at me all wounded, like a child that had been denied a treat.
“Not now,” I said flatly. I really didn’t need to explain myself. “Later, maybe.”
He lowered his chin and accepted the refusal. That he did so easily, and without even a fight, made me fiercely angry.
My other mates would never have accepted such a rejection…
Not Broderick. Not Damien. Not in a million years.
No, they would’ve taken what they wanted.
“Go help Christophe,” I ordered. “I want them found tonight.”
Boone looked down at the floor as he began pulling on his clothing. “They may not be so easy to find,” he offered. “From what I understand—”
“Excuses,” I snarled. “Always with the excuses.”
I rolled onto my stomach. Physically I was sated, at least for now. Mentally and emotionally however…
“Look for the girl,” I said. “Find her, and you’ll find them.”
The girl. She’d shown up earlier in the week, to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. Her whole damned organization was like that. ‘The Order’, or something along those lines. I’d been only marginally familiar with it. Told stories by the elders.
I knew exactly why she was here, too. Her people had helped Damien once, and now it seemed they were aiding him again. Only there was something else, also. Something they wanted.
Something from the ruins, deep beneath this place…
I glanced around as the door closed. The inner sanctum of the cathedral was Gothic and beautiful, even with all these modern touches. It had been an amazing place. Our place. The place where I’d taken Broderick upon first making him. The place we’d brought Damien, still confused and frightened, into our fold.
It was a place we always ran to, hearts pounding, blood flowing hotly through our veins. A place we writhed, the three of us, beneath these very silken sheets. Rutting like animals…
I growled, angrily. That we might have to abandon it simply because of the intrusion of this girl made me want to pound her through a wall. She was an interloper! An outsider!
And then Damien had mated her…
My vision went blood red. My body shook. I was on the edge now. The very edge of—
The door opened and Lionel limped in. He took one look at my face and stopped dead.
“Karessa,” he mumbled hesitantly. “I—”
CRASH!
The door splintered behind me as I rushed
through and slammed it shut.
26
SERENA
The nighttime streets of Paris lay spread out beneath us, arcing out in a spiderweb of lights. From up here they were colorful and twinkling. I could even see the dark strip of the Seine, winding lazily through the city.
You know, it really is beautiful…
It almost made me like Europe again. Not quite, though.
“Hey…”
Broderick’s big arms slipped around me from behind. They settled over my belly, clasping his wrists there. His stubbled chin tickled me as he laid it on my shoulder.
“Sorry about before,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“For getting short with you during the ride back,” he said. “I can be that way sometimes, and I don’t mean it. You really did stick your neck out for us. I want you to know it’s appreciated.”
I turned into him. Without realizing it, my own arms slid around his body, hard and beautiful. There was a level of intimacy between us that wasn’t there before, not even when he was inside of me. I decided to take advantage of it.
“Tell me how you were made,” I said.
I expected to feel him stiffen, maybe even pull away. Instead he only looked down at me. For a minute he said nothing. Then, gently, my blonde giant reached out with one hand and pinned a stray lock of hair over my ear.
“I was Forsvarets,” he began, the word rolling easily of his tongue. His accent was sexy. “Special Commando. Norwegian Operations Forces.”
His expression was blank now, like he was remembering, but not really feeling. Telling the story mechanically. Without emotion.
“Ten years ago my unit was in Kabul, Afghanistan. We were training an International Security Assistance Force. Getting them ready for when we left. It was all pretty routine. I was less than a month short when it happened.”
He paused here, and I watched as his eyes changed. The corners turned down in something that could only be sorrow.
“We were ambushed out in the far desert,” he said. “Mortar attack, followed by a ground assault. My whole unit was wiped out, almost to a single man.”
