Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set

by Keira Blackwood

  The first bite excited all of my taste buds: soft, whole grain bread, mayonnaise, turkey breast, provolone cheese, iceberg lettuce, pale tomato, and crisp, smoky bacon. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have been impressed. It was just like any other turkey club, but after eating little more than canned fruit and tuna, it tasted divine. I looked up from the sandwich I devoured to see Cole and Lance smiling at me.

  “Don’t judge,” I said. “I don’t remember the last time I had a turkey sandwich.”

  “No judgment,” Lance said. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

  “I always appreciate a woman who can eat,” Cole said.

  Lance touched the side of my lip and licked off the mayo from his finger. I felt my cheeks heat, then I took another bite.

  “You’re going to spoil me, then take me home,” I said to Lance. “Even the hardboiled eggs and toast was a treat. I don’t think I thanked you yet.”

  “You don’t have to. And if you don’t want to, I don’t have to take you home,” he gave me a wicked smile, and I blushed all over again.

  “I have responsibilities,” I said.

  Cole ate quietly, and acted as if he didn’t notice our exchange.

  “I know. We’ll bring anything you want, and you can get back to cooking,” Lance said. “I’d like to try your fish and chips, and anything else you’d be willing to make for me.”

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  We finished our meal and said goodbye. Other than the comments from the blonde, I felt the outing was positive. When we returned to the truck and rode toward Lance’s house, I was a ball of nerves. Another first was coming—a night in Lance’s bed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trixie

  Street lamps lit the sloped roads, full of tall, Victorian houses, and people drove in every direction. The town was pleasantly alive, but also a reminder of how far Ellistown had fallen. Lance pulled into a slanted driveway in front of an immense, two-story home with blue siding. It looked about twice the size of my house in Ellistown. I felt silly, being intimidated by a house, but I was far from my comfort zone.

  “This house belonged to my parents, before they died,” Lance said.

  “It’s lovely,” I replied.

  “It’s empty,” he said.

  Lance opened his door and climbed out of the truck. I grabbed my bag and followed his lead. Thick, snowy borders lined the sidewalk leading to the door. A brown and black dog paced back and forth behind the white picket fence one house over, watching us intently.

  Inside, Lance’s home was warm, clean, and minimalist. There were no decorations or pictures on the white walls of the large living room where we entered. Only a flatscreen above an unused stone fireplace, and a blue and white plaid sofa were situated in the open space.

  “Do you not spend much time here?” I asked, looking into the spotless, barren hearth.

  “No,” he answered, “not much.”

  “Is the sofa your taste?” I asked, remembering the way he had dressed before he had come to do manual labor. I expected Lance to prefer modern, elegant, masculine pieces.

  “My mother’s,” Lance replied. That made more sense, I thought, and nodded.

  “What else would you like to show me?” I asked.

  Lance smiled at me and took my hand, leading me to the next room, his spacious kitchen. White cabinets hung from robin’s egg blue walls above the cream-colored tile floor. The white appliances looked dated but pristine. Everything I had seen told me that Lance had left the house the way his mother had kept it before she had died. I knew firsthand how difficult it was to move past the loss of a loved one, and the difficulty of being surrounded by their memory.

  “Did your mother love blue?” I asked, noting the similarity between the paint on the kitchen walls and that on the exterior.

  “She did.”

  “It feels a bit like she still lives here,” I said.

  “It’s been difficult to make changes,” Lance replied. “Every time I erase a piece of my parents’ lives, I feel I lose part of them with it.”

  “I understand,” I said. “Did she enjoy cooking?”

  “Baking mostly,” he said. “She used to make the best chocolate chip cookies. I liked to help her when I was little. She always let me lick the dough off of the beaters.” Lance smiled at the thought. To preserve her so, he must have really cared for his mother. “A bit like you and your Gran I’m guessing.”

  “Yes, quite a bit.”

  “So, what did you think of Sawtooth Den?” he asked. “And of the people?”

  “Cole, Harkins, and Amy all seem kind,” I said.

  “But?” he asked. “I’m sensing a but.”

  “What’s the story with the blonde?” I asked.

  “Blonde?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

  “Overly thin, rude,” I replied. “Claimed you belonged to her, and that you would throw me away when you were done with me.”

  I didn’t believe it was true, but I needed to know what made her think she had a right to him.

  “Trixie.” He moved in close, holding my body to his with a firm grasp around my waist.

  The closeness made me hyperaware of every inch of his body that touched mine—from his palm and fingertips on the small of my back to his hard chest muscles against my breasts. So close, his earthy scent filled my lungs—pine and leather.

  Desire and intensity clear in his sapphire eyes, Lance continued, “I have eyes only for you. I want no one but you.”

  He pressed his lips to mine, and I believed him.

  “Did you date her before?” I asked. “What’s her name?”

  He pulled back and led me to the sofa to sit. I turned my body toward him to listen to his story.

  “Her name’s Callie,” he said. “She wanted Cole when he was next in line for alpha.” He put his hands in his lap and slumped his shoulders. “After Cole stepped down, Callie put her sights on me. I made the mistake of sleeping with her, only looking for something casual. That was the only thing I ever looked for before you.”

  “But she wasn’t satisfied?”

  “No,” he said, “she doesn’t seem to take no for an answer.”

  “What makes me different from the rest?” I asked.

  “Everything,” he replied. “You stirred something inside of me. I’m a different man since I laid eyes on you, god, even heard your voice. More than anything I want to spend every day by your side, giving you everything you desire, and everything that I am. I never wanted that with anyone else. I’ve never felt this way. I didn’t realize I was asleep until you woke me up.”

  I climbed onto Lance’s lap, kneeled over him and tasted his sweet lips on mine. “I think I love you,” I admitted.

  “I love you too, Trixie.”

  Where we went from here I didn’t know, only that I needed to be closer to him. I parted his lips with my tongue, tasting the man that I loved and who loved me in return. His mouth was warm and moist, and followed my movements. With large hands caressing down my shoulders, Lance slid his distressed, leather jacket down my arms and onto the floor. Even through the fabric of my shirts, I savored the sensation of his trailing fingers down my arms.

  I sat up straight, and slowly lifted the hem of Lance’s long-sleeved t-shirt. Each inch exposed a taste more of the hard, muscular chest beneath, starting with the silver trail of hair that led beneath his waistband. The line tempted me, and I slid a finger through it, following the ridges and valleys of his sculpted abdominals. Rough compared to the skin around them, the hairs shone when they caught the light, beautifully, impossibly silver like that hair atop his head. Lance pulled his shirt off and watched as I explored him. His desire pressed up against his fly beneath me, and I removed my shirts as well. Ignoring my scars, Lance put his hands on my breasts, and his mouth back to mine. A gentle pinch sent tendrils of desire through me, and I gasped.

  “I want you,” I said.

  “I’m all yours.”

  I stood and a
dmired the view. Lance put his hands behind his head, accentuating the muscular form of his strong arms, as he looked over my body the same way I did his. Lance’s eyes were hungry, his wolf barely below the surface, but he remained still, restrained.

  I stepped out of my boots, then unclasped my jeans, allowing them to fall to the floor. Lance growled as I stood before him in only my white, cotton panties. My eyes remained locked on his as I bent before him and pulled off his boots, one by one. With each moment that passed, it seemed more difficult for him to hold himself back. I wasn’t sure that I wanted him to hold back. Yes, I was nervous, but I wanted him, and his passion. I wanted to feel his love and desire for me, and feel his body deep within mine.

  I knelt on the floor before him, and unbuttoned his pants. Lance stood in an instant and dropped his pants and boxers with them. His blue eyes were icy flames of desire, and his huge cock stood hard and ready, an inch from my face. I reached a tentative hand to his length and caressed the skin that was softer than anywhere else on his body.

  “Let me do for you as you did for me,” I said, looking up at Lance’s intense expression. I was nervous and excited, and wanted to worship him the way he had me. With a small lick I found him salty. I aimed him with a fist around his base, and slipped him into my mouth. He filled the small space easily, with little more than the head inserted. My entire body was on fire, burning for him to be inside of me. I took a little more, moving him in and out of my lips, but I couldn’t take much more foreplay, I needed to be with him fully.

  He moaned with my movement, closing his eyes as I moved my tongue. Taking a little more, I tested how deeply I could fit him.

  “Trixie,” he growled, then gently pulled back and offered me a hand to help me rise.

  “Was it not good?” I asked.

  “It was perfect,” he replied. “But I don’t want to end before we begin.”

  I smiled and slid down my panties, with a thumb on each hip.

  Lance stepped back and sat on the sofa, beckoning me with a wave. “You can have control,” he said. “Stop me if it’s too much.”

  I nodded and climbed back on his lap, straddling him with my knees around his hips. He pulled his face to my chest, with an arm around my back, and took the tip of my breast into his mouth. Coils of pleasure moved through me, making me ache for more. As if he could read my mind, Lance touched between my legs, gently massaging my clit. He circled and sucked, and I moaned from the sensation. I grasped his length between us and aimed it against my opening.

  Afraid that it would hurt, but desperate to have him, I lowered slowly, stretching as I moved downward. I raised to reduce the pressure, but every inch he had filled ached to be filled again.

  “You’re so tight,” he growled.

  “You’re too big,” I moaned in reply.

  Each downward stroke took him impossibly deeper inside of me. Lance continued on my clit, rubbing harder as I went, and placed his hand on my needy breast as I started moving up and down too fast for him to keep his mouth on me. With tender lips, Lance kissed my neck and chest.

  Just as I had when he’d used his mouth on me in my bed, I felt pressure building inside of me.

  “I’m so close,” I said between ragged breaths.

  Lance slid his hands down onto my hips and tilted me slightly, lifting and pulling me down, deeper than before. With only two thrusts, I yelled as my vision blurred and the most extreme pleasure I had ever felt washed over me, wave after wave. My muscles tightened, and Lance kept the rhythm, moving me through the immense bliss that ignited every nerve, radiating from our physical connection. Warmth filled me, and I sank down onto him as he released my hips. His rigidity lessened, and I melted down against his chest.

  Lance brushed my hair off of my forehead, moist with sweat, and kissed the top of my head.

  “I love you, Trixie Walker. Everything I am is yours.”

  I squeezed him in my arms. “I love you too.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lance

  Flexing my legs, I stretched out across the chilled sheets, leaving the comfortable place where my body had kept the bedding warm. The bed felt strangely empty, and my heart sank when I turned to the side and saw no sign of Trixie. Had she left in the night? Had I done something wrong? Searching the floor in a fit of panic, I found that her bag still sat by the bed, so she hadn’t left. Relieved, I threw on a t-shirt and boxer briefs before descending the stairs in search of her. The scent of toasted bread drew me to the kitchen.

  Leaning against the door frame, I watched as Trixie stretched up into the cabinet and pulled down two glasses. Her oversized t-shirt rose up over the bottom of her panties as she lifted herself on tiptoes, showcasing the curves of her ass. She dropped down, glasses in hand, and set them on the counter in front of her.

  “I can feel your eyes back there,” she said.

  “I like what I see,” I replied.

  Trixie turned to me, hair up in a messy bun, cheeks flushed, and looking as happy as I had ever seen her. “I hope it’s okay, I had to check out your kitchen.”

  “Of course,” I answered, and her smile widened.

  “You didn’t have much to work with,” she said, turning back to the counter.

  “I don’t do much cooking,” I replied, crossing the cold tiles with my bare feet.

  Wrapping my arms around Trixie, I leaned my chin on her shoulder and looked down at the plates that she had prepared.

  “Avocado?” I wrinkled my nose, examining the green spread across the toast, under slices of hardboiled eggs.

  “Trust me,” she said, then bent so she could kiss my arm.

  “I do.”

  Reaching around to Trixie’s side, I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. Little was left in it, but there was enough for two half glasses. After emptying the plastic container, I tossed it in the recycling and led Trixie to the pub table in the corner of the kitchen where I preferred to eat.

  “I noticed the dining room when I came down this morning,” Trixie said.

  “I don’t use it, since it’s always just me,” I said. “This just makes more sense.”

  “Just you? You don’t feed your dates here?” she asked.

  “You’re the first woman I’ve brought home,” I replied.

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “I just thought since you said you had some casual partners that they would have gotten to share some breakfast and a bed with you.”

  “I’ve always been clear that I didn’t want anything more than sex,” I said. “When you share your bed and your personal space with someone, it means more.”

  “I guess it does,” she replied, with a smile.

  The toast was tasty, a flavorful combination of egg, avocado, toast, salt, and pepper. It was simple, but much better than I would have come up with using the same ingredients, which would have been simply a hardboiled egg and toast with butter.

  “This is nice,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “I’m glad you invited me.” She smiled. “So what’s next? I need to make sure I get back before too long to check in on the pack. Make sure Troy’s not parading around telling people what to do or something.”

  “Is there anything you’d like to see before we go?” I asked.

  “Hailey,” she answered. “It’d be good to see her.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I replied.

  After breakfast, we dressed and headed out into the frigid morning air. Pink, chilled skin ran across Trixie’s cheeks and nose, along the same strip as her adorable freckles. She wore my jacket, and I loved the way it hung on her, making me feel large and masculine by comparison. Everything about the morning and the previous night was perfect, except that it was almost over.

  We took the truck down to Rosebuds and Greenery and parked along the curb. Trixie examined the buildings that lined the street, tall Victorians of various colors all stacked in a row.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked.


  “It’s so different here,” she answered. It was different, and not just because Ellistown had been torn apart. Sawtooth Peaks was full of classic, two-story buildings, moving from Main Street out in every direction. Yards were sloped, and a few steps behind Sawtooth Den led into the densely forested mountains. Ellistown was a flat valley, one-story ranchers down streets that circled the immense brick building at its center. Different was apt but didn’t tell me how she felt.

  “Do you like it?” I asked.

  “It’s happy and alive, like little gingerbread houses painted with candy frosting,” Trixie replied.

  “Whimsical,” I said. “I think Ellistown has a more natural feel, more down-to-earth.”

  Trixie nodded.

  “Ready to go in?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she answered and climbed out of the truck.

  Her warm, petite fingers wrapped around my palm, and we walked up to the flower shop hand in hand. A tiny bell sounded as I pushed the door open.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Hailey called from somewhere in the building, out of sight.

  The room was filled with floral scents, and bouquets of varying shapes and colors. I knew the sight and scent of flowers reminded most people of beauty and life, but the only time I could remember being surrounded by so many arrangements was at my parents’ funeral. I pushed back the thought and smiled down at Trixie, whose expression of awe reminded me of a kid in a candy shop.

  “A fan of flowers?” I asked.

  “I’ve never been a flower person, but it’s pleasant to see such life in the dead of what feels like a sad and desperate start to winter.”

  “Can I buy you some?” I asked, eager to see her smile last as long as it could.

  “Let’s get some for the inn,” she said. “And a dahlia for Fleur.”

  “Okay,” I replied, appreciating the way Trixie always considered the needs of her pack. I doubted that she could go more than a few hours without concerning herself with the welfare of others. I had never met someone so kind, strong, and beautiful.