Wicked Tales Anthology

by Brandy Slaven

  But they were inexorable. Their will was fierce, and though she wasn’t the kind of woman to be cowed, something about them made her continue onward. It wasn’t as though she had no will, it was as if that side of her was being controlled by another part of her.

  Her She-Wolf?

  Even unformed, the beast’s spirit had always had a powerful grasp on her instincts and behavior. But this was different. Cristo, talk about the worst time for the creature to start getting bossy!

  As they maneuvered past the dense crowds, she wasn’t sure how, but she got the feeling they communicated in ways other than words. Though they spoke, they often didn’t. One might ask a question, but the others didn’t answer, and yet, they’d carry on as though they’d received a response.

  Even as her mind had sucked her inward, she recognized that.

  Did triplets really have a special bond?

  She didn’t know much about triplets. Hell, she didn’t know much about babies, period. Never mind Lyken ones. Still, she knew Lyken babies could be born in litters. Multiple births were common in the Lyken world—Miguela herself had come with two brothers, and they were the reason she loathed men.

  But they weren’t identical. Fraternal, she thought it was called. Where they were from the same birth but didn’t look the same?

  These were identical. So similar she’d bet her right ear that their father had difficulty discerning which was which.

  That had to mean they were rare, didn’t it?

  Before she could ponder that, the sudden gulp of fresh air jerked her to life.

  She’d been dazed as they maneuvered her through the club. And for someone who considered control to be the most powerful weapon in a woman’s arsenal, such an admission was an immense step. But she hadn’t had anything to drink all evening, just water and a soft drink earlier so there was no excuse for how she suddenly found herself past the bouncer and out onto the street already.

  “Why do I feel drunk?” she asked, and whispered the question more to herself than to them.

  “Pheromones.” Adam’s voice was gruff as they left Moog, which was just off La Rambla, the old part of the city.

  Streets away was the Gothic Quarter, where dirty alleys and ancient architecture merged into one glorious whirlwind of culture. The Cathedral, ancient and brimming with history, loomed over it all. Where packed boulevards, even at this hour, would allow her to escape. Where narrow backstreets would let her hide—not just from the men, but from the part of herself that wanted to stay exactly where she was.

  At that moment, she wished they were closer to the ocean, where a breeze might cool her down. She felt overheated, like her blood was a sea of fire. It was disconcerting. Enough to make her nervous, and Elena rarely felt nervous.

  Whispering, she asked, “Pheromones? What are they?”

  She’d never heard the word before, and wasn’t sure if it was because it was an English word she simply didn’t recognize or if it was a term that was new to her.

  “It is our scent, the hormones that make it up,” Luca told her quietly. “It’s stirring your She-Wolf.”

  She shook her head. “No. I don’t have a She-Wolf. You were right. I am half-Lyken. Not a full blood.”

  “You do. She just isn’t like the one your mother has.” Damien tilted his head to the side, letting his mane of hair jostle as he reached over and curled an arm over her shoulder. “She still lives, yeah?”

  Elena frowned, disturbed by how good his proximity felt. By how damn great he scented. “Yes. She lives.”

  Damien nodded. “Not close?”

  “No.” How had he known that?

  Adam appeared in her line of sight. Her senses, stronger than that of a human, allowed her to see him in the dim light of the side street.

  The Gothic Quarter was loaded with tourists during the day; men and women with cameras hanging around their neck and white sunblock on their noses as they explored the oldest parts of the city, and while it was the same at night, Elena felt there was a keener edge. A finite line that pushed the narrow streets with the looming high walls, the darkened atmosphere, from safe to dangerous.

  She never walked alone here. Always with Miguela. And even though they knew how to protect themselves, they were always on guard.

  The scents outside the club made the pheromones seem to disperse somewhat. The stench of sewage and trash were unwelcome reminders that she was on planet Earth, not cloud cuckoo.

  “Not unusual,” Adam was saying. “You know how half-Lyken can be.”

  She scowled at that, and realized they’d been having a conversation while she’d been elsewhere—if not physically, mentally. “Excuse me, I am here, you know?”

  “I’m very aware of that, darling,” he said, giving her a toothy grin.

  “Then don’t talk about me like I’m not standing right between you.” Her nostrils flared with irritation. “And what does that mean, anyway? What isn’t unusual with half-Lykens?”

  “They don’t tend to get along well with the Lyken parent.” Luca shrugged, but the hand he’d placed on her lower back felt grounding and, though she didn’t like to admit it, helped her breathe easier through the tumult of emotion she was currently enduring.

  She wanted to rub herself against him like a cat. Wanted to touch him, wanted to be close in the circle of his arms. Why she felt that now when she’d never wanted anything like that in her life, she wasn’t sure. She just knew…

  Hell, she didn’t know what she didn’t know.

  Hijo de puta!

  “Why?” she demanded instead, her tone insistent.

  “Because the beast is there, like a shadowy spirit inside you. It is angered at not being able to form.” Damien squinted a little. “Are you sure you understand me?”

  She froze. “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “How is your English so good?”

  Affronted, she stiffened and pulled herself away from the men crowding around her. And crowding her they were. They were so tall, so big. Their bodies muscular and overwhelming in their size. She felt hemmed in, trapped. Her throat closed as memories pressed at her psyche, memories she’d repressed and she had to move away. She needed distance. Room to breathe.

  Of course, she chose that moment to step off the side of the street when a moped was quickly approaching.

  With a squeal, she found herself wrapped in Adam’s arms. His large hand cupped her head, and the way he’d pressed her to him, let her hear his heart.

  It was thudding like crazy.

  No one could fake a response like that, which told her he was as overwhelmed by all this as she was.

  Were the three brothers as taken aback as she was?

  Her tongue felt thick as she managed to say, “That was stupid. Thank you for grabbing me when you did.” She chided herself for being a fool, but even as the moped whizzed away, after honking angrily at her, she knew she’d had to free herself from them. Had needed a moment’s freedom to realize liberation wasn’t what she wanted.

  What she wanted was right here. Elena knew from that split second’s separation, that she wanted to be in his arms.

  He nodded, and the movement had his chin rubbing her crown. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” Somehow, she knew he was talking more to himself, and his brothers, than to her.

  And that was just the odd cherry on top of el sombrerero, or the Mad Hatter’s, favorite fruit cake, wasn’t it? Elena gulped, and trying not to think about how she’d almost been on a collision course with a moving bike, settled into Adam’s arms.

  Not for her sake, but his.

  It was crazy, but she knew he needed the comfort more than she did, and Elena was more than willing to give it to him.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Adam

  His heart felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if his pulse would ever calm, or if he’d ever be able to breathe normally again without feeling the tumultuous thud that came from the terror of almost having lost his mate.


  Well, not lost. A moped could only have done so much harm, and she was half-Lyken with better healing capabilities than most humans, but still… Seeing her coming into harm’s way was more than his Wolf had been able to stand.

  Adam could feel the beast wanting to crawl out from the confines of his skin. Wanting to tear free, rip loose.

  He sucked in a shaky breath, wishing he could calm down without alerting her to the storm of emotions he was currently wading through. But she had to know.

  She was his other half. His brothers’ other half too.

  The one woman who was made for them. The one creature made to unite them all. To give them their power, to allow them to ascend to their birthright.

  They’d been searching for so long Adam knew he wasn’t alone in fearing that they didn’t have a mate. It was highly unlikely. The TriAlpha’s heirs always had a mate, but sometimes, the Fates worked mysteriously and there was never a guarantee.

  Their fathers had met their mother shortly after their seventieth year. He, Damien, and Luca were a century old. Almost three decades later and they had only just found her.

  The three of them had been born in a different time, a different age. When life had been harder, with none of the ease and convenience that the people of today took advantage of.

  His was a childhood of horses and carts, ink and quills. Boarding school and books.

  His mate, on the other hand, was thirty if she was a day.

  He could scent the maturity on her. The Lyken side of her, though not fully formed, was older than someone in her first flush of youth, but good genes made her look as though she was in her early twenties.

  She had dewy, silky skin, dark and exotic-looking thanks to her olive coloring and pitch black hair. There was an Arabic quality to her that she played up, lining her dark eyes with thick kohl and rimming the lids with a shadow that was mink-toned. The only thing that declared her Hispanic heritage was the red paint on her lips. It highlighted the shade of gold in her skin, the chestnut wave rather than blue/black of Arab hair.

  She was beautiful, and she was his. And she’d almost been mowed down by a moped.

  “I’m okay. It’s okay.”

  He realized with no small amount of alarm that she’d been repeating that for quite a while now, taking his words and making them her own. Her soothing tones pitched for him and him alone, even though his brothers’ hearts had to be racing like his was. Still, this moment was theirs, and he guarded it zealously.

  “Why did you do that?” he asked, his voice low, almost soundless.

  But that was stupid because she heard, all right. She heard and she stiffened.

  “I-I needed to get away from you. This is all too much.”

  “This?” he asked, catching the word and determined to make her see what this actually was. “And what might that be?”

  But she was shaking her head, hard enough and fast enough to make him fear for the bun that was perched there.

  Gods, she looked like a sexy secretary he wanted to bend over the nearest car so he could fuck her and claim her, make her his.

  He’d unfurl that large bun and grab a hold of the tail of hair. He’d pull it, tug it, make her back arch as he watched her suck off his brothers.

  A shudder of longing rushed through him, making his muscles quiver and his heart sing—the thudding drawing to a close now.

  He rubbed his nose down the side of her jaw. “What is this, Elena?”

  “I-I don’t know.”

  “Liar.” He whispered the word against her mouth and pecked it gently with his, then he nipped her bottom lip. “Lies. Why are you lying to me, to yourself, Elena?” He repeated her name, loving the taste of it. Loving that now, he knew what his mate was called.

  She existed. She was in his arms, and would be forever, even when their ancestors called them home.

  “I-I’m not l-lying,” she replied, the words quivering with the stress she was under.

  It was a kind of strain that he knew she had to handle now or she never would.

  She had her She-Wolf locked up so tight, the creature couldn’t even roam Elena’s soul. His Wolf released a mournful howl, and through the magic of the link that united them together, he heard an equally mournful whimper from her bitch.

  The sound had Elena jolting. She jerked a foot in the air at the sound.

  “What was that?”

  “It was your She-Wolf. You’ve repressed her.”

  “I-I had no choice.” He saw her flush in response to the reprimand in his voice.

  “We all have a choice,” Damien murmured, stepping forward so he could rest a hand on Elena’s shoulders. “Why did you lock her down so tightly?”

  “Because I wasn’t raised in a Pack.” She spoke with a defiance that made his cock throb. Her chin jerked up in the air, as though daring him to comment.

  “Why?” Luca asked, stepping into place and surrounding Elena as she would forever be surrounded—circled by them. Protected, cherished, and cosseted by them.

  “My mother had a falling out with her father. He was the Alpha of her Pack. S-She sneaked out and fell pregnant by a foreigner who was traveling.” Her nose curled in a sneer—Adam wasn’t sure if she was conscious of that or not. “He wanted her to get rid of it. She chose not to.”

  His brows lifted at that—all pups, whether accidental or not, were celebrated in the American Pack.

  But not in Europe?

  That seemed unusual to him, but what did he know?

  They were here on a diplomatic mission. An American rogue Wolf had come to Europe and they’d been charged with catching him and bringing the bastard home before the beast killed anyone else—a mission that, thus far, they’d failed in.

  The last of the trail had led them to Barcelona, but so far, they’d been around Europe more times than they cared to count.

  For two years, they’d been searching for the bastard whose cunning had astounded them all—he was one of the most evil cunts Adam, Damien, and Luca had had the unfortunate happenstance of hunting.

  It was sheer chance that they’d decided to blow off some steam tonight and had headed into the city to relax and maybe pick up a willing human female who might enjoy being shared between them.

  The hand of Fate was clearly at play here. And, as everyone who’d ever been guided around a maze by the Fates to reach their destiny, he was grateful now that he’d followed the trail because she was here.

  In his arms.

  In their circle.

  He reached forward and pressed his forehead to hers. “I know you’re scared, sweetheart, but there’s no need to be.”

  She pulled back to glower at him. “I’m not scared.”

  This one had fire. He smirked—their mate would need fire for the future she had ahead of her. “No? Not even a little bit?”

  “What’s there to be scared of?”

  “You’re ours. Your She-Wolf calls to my Wolf. Can’t you feel that?”

  She jerked her head to the side but that was no escape—Damien was standing there, grinning at her like the goof he was.

  “Well?” Damien asked, cocking a brow at her.

  “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she ducked her head at the lie.

  He reached for her chin, gently tilted it up. “You’re ignorant about your beginnings, sweetheart, but not stupid. A man who’d mistake you for a fool is a man who doesn’t deserve you.”

  The sound of laughter suddenly pierced the tension that coalesced around them, shielding them in a bubble which popped at a shrill squeal as two guys laughingly chased a friend. She was in no danger—her happy giggles said as much, and she was a part of a larger group—all of them drunk and too boisterous for their own good.

  “It’s time to move,” Luca murmured, mimicking his thoughts.

  He nodded, thought about it a second, and asked, “Would you prefer to go to your home or come to our hotel?”

  She blinked at him then flushed. Her hand came
up to slap his chest as umbrage seemed to drown her. “How dare you! I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  “We’re not going to be doing much sleeping,” Damien promised, but there was no lewdness in his voice to be irritated by. Just a simple truth.

  Her nostrils flared, apparently scenting that, and as she twisted to glower at him, she asked, “And why should I go anywhere with you?”

  “Because you’re ours.” He firmed his jaw. “And you know it, so stop fighting it.”

  He saw her lips part, tasted the dismissal in the air, and then he heard it.

  The low growl.

  His Wolf’s ears perked up, then he returned the growl as he scented the bastard.

  The one they’d been chasing.

  Devaney.

  He felt his brothers’ attention shift too. Heard their heart rates pick up and their senses quicken as they realized their prey was in the vicinity.

  Where their mate was.

  Heart plummeting as terror for Elena’s safety captured him, he wanted to shove her back into the club, but not even the club was safe.

  Nowhere was safe when the bastard was around.

  Not even a gun would stop the beast, not unless it was loaded with mercury, and no human had a weapon loaded with mercury.

  He wanted to toss Elena over his shoulder, wanted to grab her and hold her and never let her go. But he had to. He had to let her go, had to make this area safe by eradicating the danger.

  This was the first time they’d come face to face with the bastard they’d been hunting. They were some of the best Hunters of their generation, but there wasn’t much game to be had when the prey kept slipping to the next town and the next.

  One thing they knew was his scent. That was the one thing they recognized.

  And that scent was here.

  And it was cloying.

  It stank of Wolf. Of rabid Wolf. There was only one thing to be done with a rabid Wolf—you had to put the sick son of a bitch down.