The Pack or the Panther
Page 16
“How is this possible?”
The beautiful wolf stalked forward until he got to Cole and gazed up with huge golden eyes.
Cole fell to his knees, threw his arms around the hard-muscled neck, and buried his face in thick, soft fur. “Oh my baby, what an extraordinary creature you are.”
He pulled back and gazed at Paris. His husband. The amazing panther/wolf who had just agreed to be his mate. By his side. Forever.
He smoothed his hand down the lean flank. “I love you, wolf.”
A long tongue caressed his hand.
“Time to run.”
One deep breath. Heat, tingle—wolf. Wolf.
Silver eyes peered into gold.
Run.
He turned. Run. Speed. Fast. Faster. Trees, grass, sky, smell of life.
Wolf beside him. Fast. Joy.
Love.
He raised his head and howled.
Look back. Pack. Pack running. Pack following. Following. Following.
And they ran and ran until all the wolves scattered into the hills and trees.
And in a dense copse of bushes where the light of the full moon barely penetrated, the silver wolf mounted the black one.
Ahooooooooooooooo.
Meet Tara Lain
Tara Lain believes in happy ever afters - and magic. Same thing. In fact, she says, she doesn't believe, she knows. Tara shares this passion in her stories that star her unique, charismatic heroes and adventurous heroines. Quarterbacks and cops, werewolves and witches, blue collar or billionaires, Tara's characters, readers say, love deeply, resolve seemingly insurmountable differences, and ultimately live their lives authentically. After many years living in southern California, Tara, her soulmate honey and her soulmate dog decided they wanted less cars and more trees, prompting a move to Ashland, Oregon where Tara's creating new stories and loving living in a small town with big culture. Likely a Gryffindor or maybe a Ravensclaw but possessed of Parseltongue, Tara loves animals of all kinds, diversity, open minds, coconut crunch ice cream from Zoeys, and her readers. She also loves to hear from you.
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Books by Tara Lain
From Tara Lain Books – Available in KU
FUZZY LOVE
Passions of a Papillon
TALES OF THE HARKER PACK
The Pack or the Panther
LONG PASS CHRONICLES
Canning the Center
Outing the Quarterback
Tackling the Tight End
GENETIC ATTRACTION SERIES
The Scientist and the Supermodel
Genetic Attraction
The Pretty Boy and the Tomboy
Genetic Celebrity
HOLIDAY NOVELLAS
Mistletowed
Be Bad, For Goodness Sake
From Dreamspinner Press --
Hearts and Flour
Home Improvement – A Love Story
The Fairy Shop
Trex or Treat
ALOYSIUS TALES:
Spell Cat
Brush with Catastrophe
Cataclysmic Shift
BALLS TO THE WALL:
Volley Balls • Fire Balls
Beach Balls • FAST Balls
High Balls • Snow Balls • Bleu Balls
Balls to the Wall – Volley Balls and Fire Balls Anthology
Balls to the Wall – Beach Balls and FAST Balls Anthology
Balls to the Wall – High Balls and Snow Balls Anthology
COWBOYS DON’T:
Cowboys Don’t Come Out
Cowboys Don’t Ride Unicorns
Cowboys Don’t Samba
DREAMSPUN BEYOND #15 – Rome and Jules
DREAMSPUN DESIRES #5 – Taylor Maid
LOVE IN LAGUNA:
Knight of Ocean Avenue
Knave of Broken Hearts
Prince of the Playhouse
Lord of a Thousand Steps
Fool of Main Beach
LOVE YOU SO:
Love You So Hard
Love You So Madly
Love You So Special
Love You So Sweetly
A Love You So Anthology – Love You So Hard and Love You So Madly
MIDDLEMARK MYSTERIES:
The Case of the Sexy Shakespearean
The Case of the Voracious Vintner
MOVIE MAGIC ROMANCES:
Return of the Chauffeur’s Son
Love and Linguistics
PENNYMAKER TALES:
Sinders and Ash • Driven Snow
Beauty, Inc. • Never
Sinders and Ash and Beauty, Inc. Anthology
SUPERORDINARY SOCIETY:
Hidden Powers
TALES OF THE HARKER PACK:
The Pack or the Panther & Wolf in Gucci Loafers Anthology
From Pride Publishing –
DANGEROUS DANCERS:
Golden Dancer
Death Dancer
Keep Reading for an Excerpt from
WOLF IN GUCCI LOAFERS
Book Two in Tales of the Harker Pack
Coming Soon to Amazon and in KU
Chapter One
Lindsey stalked his attacker, his nostrils flaring at the smell of fear. Thrust to the arm with the epée, high outside parry by his attacker, riposte. He leaped back, parry, and thrust. Lunge and thrust, feint, lunge again, parry, thrust. On the run! Attack, attack!
“Lindsey! Lindsey! Okay, stop, I give. You win. The student has bested the teacher.” From his position flat against the wall, Rolf laughed and held up his hands.
Lindsey took a deep breath and shook his head to clear the buzz that pulsed through him whenever he faced violence—or sex. Great heavens, this was not the way to keep one’s fencing teacher happy. “God, darling, I’m so sorry.” He pulled off his mask. “I do get carried away, don’t I?”
Big, blond, athletic Rolf pushed himself away from the wall, dropped his epée in the rack, grabbed a bottled water from the case, and flopped on one of the Nelson benches that lined the side of the home gym. He twisted the cap and drank, wiping sweat from his forehead with his other hand. “I swear you crack me up. I don’t know a more mild-mannered human than you. You’re a world-class fencer, I’ll give you that, but where does that vicious streak come in? Sometimes I’m not sure I’m safe.” He laughed again, but it sounded a little strained.
Lindsey fanned himself with his lavender neck scarf. Rolf might sweat, but Lindsey only glowed. “It must be all my suppressed hostility at lack of gay civil rights, darling.” He didn’t mention predatory instincts that went with his genes.
Rolf leaned against the wall. “I’m sure that’s a serious problem for the son of the fourth wealthiest family on the eastern seaboard. Has someone refused your polo ponies access to the community feed trough?” He smirked.
Lindsey narrowed his eyes, and Rolf had the good sense to pale. Lindsey cocked his head. “You wouldn’t know.”
Rolf sat up straight. “Sorry. My mouth ran away with me. I don’t know, and I apologize. I’m sure being gay is tough no matter what your circumstances.”
Lindsey took a breath and fluttered the scarf. Off the hook this time. “Ta, darling. Think nothing of it.”
“Besides, you’ve got nothing on our grandma vigilante. Have you heard about her?” He sipped his water.
Lindsey glanced at his manicured nails. “Something, I think.”
“It’s all over the news. Some woman walks into the police station and says they’ll find this asshole rapist in this alley and some grandma sav
ed her. The cops go where she says, and here’s this guy they’ve been trying to nail for months, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. The woman who I guess he planned to rape says the person who caught this guy was an old lady. Go figure.”
Lindsey fluttered the scarf. “What is the world coming to when a self-respecting villain can’t ply his trade without interference from senior citizens?”
Rolf stared at him for a second, realized he must be joking, and started to laugh, then sobered. “Seriously, between grandma the rapist catcher and the kidnapping, this town feels pretty comic-book weird lately.”
“Lindsey.” His mother’s voice came from behind him.
He turned. “Hello, Mother. You arrived just in time to save Rolf’s life.” He crossed to the door of the huge indoor gym and kissed her pretty, pink cheek.
“Are you torturing Rolf again?”
Rolf stood and tossed the empty water bottle. “Yes, ma’am, he is. But I’m going to tuck my tail between my legs and leave.”
Interesting analogy.
His mother peered around Lindsey at the fencing teacher. “Don’t let me run you off, Rolf. I just need Lindsey to start dressing. He has a hot date.”
Lindsey rolled his eyes. “We’ll see how hot it is, but I do have a date.” He glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. “Really, Mother, even I don’t need three hours to dress for an engagement.”
She looked him up and down. “Since when?”
Rolf laughed. “I’ll see myself out. Have a great date, Lindsey.”
“Thank you, darling. Sorry about the assault.”
Rolf kept laughing and walked out the gym door, which had a pathway that led to the circular drive and the parking lot. The separate entrance, one of three, kept sweaty people out of his mother’s entry hall. It also gave Lindsey an exit on those occasions when he preferred to keep his activities private—aka often.
He racked the epée and came back to his mother. “Okay, love; tell me all about this perfect match you’ve set up for me.” They walked down the hall with its long, Turkish runners.
“You know the Westerbergs, darling. Bruce has come home with his Harvard MBA to take his rightful place in the family business.”
“So how old does that make him?”
“Twenty-three, I think. Just a little younger than you. He graduated at the normal time, not with your superhuman impatience.”
He’d just wanted out of school. One more full moon might have killed him. They got to his suite of rooms, and she stopped. “I so want to see you settled and happy.”
“I know.”
“I know Ga-Ga and Pop-Pop would love it if you were married before they die.”
He crossed his arms. “Okay, reduce the drama, dear. Pop-Pop will be shagging corporate takeovers when I’m old and gray, and Ga-Ga will still head the best-dressed list.”
“Life is uncertain. Look at your father.”
He gazed at her steadily. “Which father do you mean exactly?”
“Lindsey!” She stared at her very chic shoes. “You know full well I mean your father father. The person whose name you bear.”
He kissed her forehead. “Very well. I guess uncertainty is appropriate in either case.”
She crossed her arms tightly. “And with all these horrible kidnappings, I like to know you’re in safe places with nice people.”
“Actually, one of the victims was at home, so I’m not sure the locations are that important.”
Her eyes got huge. “Dear God, who would do such a thing? And the finest families.”
Who indeed, but he didn’t want to scare her. “Point taken. I’ll stay very safe, and I’ll give Bruce Westerberg every chance to sweep me off my feet and solidify my uncertain future.”
That prompted a smile. “You rascal.”
“Always. Now let me get to my bubble bath.”
He watched her walk away in her linen skirt, voile sweater, and second-best pearls. Hard to believe that genteel woman ever threw caution to the winds and drowned herself in one wild night of passion. The night that had produced him. No one knew he was a bastard except him and his mother. He’d been forced to ask her about his father because he was desperate, though he’d never told her why. Finally she’d confessed and saved his sanity. Maybe his life.
He sighed, went into his sitting room, and closed the door behind him. The soft greens and mauve accents always soothed him. He padded across the velvety Chinese rug with its huge abstract flower of pink and green against a background of dove gray.
Inside the enormous closet, he dumped his fencing costume.
Whoops. A couple of curls of his gray wig stuck out from the clothing storage bag at the back of his closet. Damn, he needed to be more careful. The maids weren’t looking for clues, but they weren’t blind either. Now that Granny was famous, he needed to increase his security. He unzipped the bag, pushed in the wig, pulled the old suits to the front to cover the other clothing, and zipped it back up. Better.
Naked, he walked through the side door that led to his bathroom, where the jetted tub dominated the room. Yes, it was so gauche, but it felt so good, especially when his cock needed some serious attention. Like when he didn’t have a boyfriend. As usual.
He started the water and dropped in two bath bombs that smelled like jasmine. With a quick turn, he stared in the mirror. His perpetually slender body reflected back at him. No matter how strong he got, it never seemed to show. Oh yes, his muscles popped out here and there. A lovely twelve-pack, if he did say so himself. But so odd that he wasn’t bulkier. Oh well, he worked with what he had.
With a twist of the leather tie, he unbound his hair and fluffed it out like a golden curtain that reached almost to his shoulders. Damned good thing he’d showed up blond. His so-called father had been blond, which added to everyone’s belief that Lindsey was really the scion of the Vanessen clan.
He’d believed it too, until that terrible, amazing day when everything changed. Adolescents coped with lots of crap. Brain expansion, hormone overload, growth spurts. But waking up covered in fur wasn’t a subject in his prep school health class.
Sighing, he dropped his hairbrush in the drawer.
He would have run screaming to his mother—if he’d been able to scream. By the time he changed back, some piece of his brain had figured out that this new quirk in his development would not go over well at the country club. So he had hidden it. Still did.
Moving over to the tub, he settled his long body in the hot water. Oh yes.
God, he hated lying to his mother. About so many things. She desperately wanted him to settle down and be happy, but it wasn’t going to happen with Bruce Westerberg or anyone else.
He laid his head back and draped a forearm across his eyes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture the scene. Him gazing into the eyes of a man he loved and saying, “Honey, I’m a werewolf.”
The phone rang. Nobody had this number except friends. He glanced and smiled. Speaking of werewolves. “Hello, darling.”
Cole Harker’s soft, slightly hesitant voice barely went with the huge, superwolf that he was. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
“I’m reclining in a bubble bath.”
“How decadent. Are you coming to the Way Station when you get out of hot water?”
“I’m never out of hot water, darling. No, actually I have a date.”
“That sounds promising. Anyone I know?”
“A blind date with the son of family friends brokered by my mother.”
“A human?” A slight edge in his voice.
Lindsey sighed. “Yes, of course, darling. What werewolf would date me?”
“Hey, don’t give up hope. I got married.”
“There’s only one Paris.”
Cole laughed. “Is that a nice way of saying there’s only one weirdo gay half-panther exotic dancer around for a werewolf to marry?”
“Of course not. I mean there’s only one incredibly sexy, totally supportive shifter available
who happens to be gay.” He chuckled. “And all that other stuff too.”
“Go easy on the human, buddy. Don’t have any dates on the full moon.” He laughed, but it was no joke.
“I’m careful, Cole.”
“I know you are. Hell, you spend more time around humans than any of us. You’re a credit to the pack in every way.”
Lindsey popped some bubbles. “Yes, but no one wants their son to marry me.”
“God, I’m sorry Lindsey. They’re changing. At least they don’t believe there’s no such thing as a gay werewolf anymore.”
“They make an exception for you and Paris. They just think I’m human, so I don’t count.” He stared down at his too-slim-for-a-werewolf body.
“They love you.”
He blew out his breath. “Like their maiden aunt. But it doesn’t get my cock sucked, so I need to get out of this water and get dressed.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
That meant Reassure me that you didn’t go biting the humans, that you didn’t violate the pack law that says no human can know about the existence of the wolves. “Sure.”
“Hey, it’s going to be fun, dammit.”
Lindsey laughed. “Right. Talk soon, darling.” He clicked off and returned the phone to the side table.
He stood, stepped out of the tub, and grabbed a towel from the heated rack.
He loved Cole like his own brother, but he didn’t tell him everything.
Thanks to their recent war against Eliazer and his thugs, Cole had discovered Lindsey had a few more dangerous talents than he’d suspected. Mostly, that he was good with a gun. But one important bit of data remained missing from Cole’s bio on Lindsey. Despite the fact that he was a pretty crappy werewolf, thanks to his human blood, Lindsey had this violent streak. It only came out when he was threatened or very excited sexually. If a guy really turned him on, it was bye-bye Mr. Nice Guy.
He shivered and wrapped the towel tighter. He could kill somebody. Plus, if the pack found out he threatened their anonymity with his wolfy hard-ons, who knew what they’d do to him?
He opened the drawer and ran the brush through his hair. Pretty enough.
This Westerberg would be just one more tepid human. Or at least, he better be.