Tangled Hearts: A Menage Collection

by Various

  A few of the other articles related the same tale, only the last one, a year ago, had something new to say.

  Derrick Wolfgang and Mark Lupinier Declared Dead

  Even though their bodies have never been found, a local judge has declared the missing men dead. No one has seen or heard from the pair since their unusual disappearance almost six years ago. The house they shared on Changeling Drive, which has remained vacant all this time, has been seized by the city in order to pay for back taxes. They plan to put it up for auction, but will anyone buy it? Rumors abound that the house is haunted by the restless souls of the missing pair. The realtor given the task of selling the place has refuted this, but admits her task of selling the home will be hampered by the mystery surrounding the previous owners.

  Jenna sat back in her seat, pensive. There could be many reasons the boys had run off. Make that men, she thought looking at the picture that showed two robust males with wide builds—one sported a wide grin that just screamed, I’m-bad-and-I-know-it, while the other had a more somber mien. Pity they went missing, though, because damn are they hot! And somehow familiar. For some reason they made her think of her dream lovers, the ones who teased her and left her aching when she woke, but whose details she couldn’t quite hold on to.

  More than likely, the pictures of the young boys in the attic were the cause behind her sense of having seen the missing pair.

  A thump on the table startled Jenna, and she looked to see several books in a stack.

  “Here are all the books we have on the Wolfgang place. The boys aren’t actually mentioned in them, but that house was owned by Derrick’s ancestors going way back to when the town was first settled.”

  “Thank you.” After printing copies of the newspaper articles, Jenna tucked the books under an arm and checked them out.

  Heading for her car, she thought on what she’d read. Two grown men, missing without a clue? Could they have died in the house? Jenna wanted to smack herself for coming back to the stupid ghost theory. Besides, the cops hadn’t found any signs of foul play, and judging by the picture, the guys had been big, capable fellows. Evidence of violence or a struggle would have stood out. She couldn’t see them going quietly.

  Only partially paying attention to the world around her, Jenna didn’t notice the woman who suddenly appeared on the sidewalk until they collided and the books she carried went flying.

  “Shoot. I’m awfully sorry,” said Jenna, blushing at her clumsiness. Wouldn’t it figure she’d smash into a woman who wasn’t just statuesque but more gorgeous than a cover model. Jenna bet the not-too-impressed lady never suffered an inept moment in her life.

  Eyes the glacial blue of an iceberg perused her from head to toe. A cool smile tilted her lips. “Perhaps you should watch where you walk.”

  “Y-y-yes. You’re right.” The rebuke made her stammer like a student under a disapproving teacher’s stare. And that annoyed her. The sidewalk was wide. The ice queen could have just as easily sidestepped her. Why the hell am I apologizing? Miffed, Jenna dropped to her knees to gather the books she’d dropped, hoping the fall hadn’t damaged them.

  Slender fingers beat her to one, and a perfectly arched brow rose in interest. “The Wolfgang house? What interest do you have in that old place?”

  “I own it.” Jenna snatched the tome and added it to her stack.

  “Really?” The blonde drew out the one word and cast her a speculative glance. “I thought I’d heard rumors someone was crazy enough to buy that old shack.”

  A need to defend it rose in her. “Old, yes, but far from a shack. The house is beautiful.”

  “If you like ancient detail. So, has anything odd happened in the house?” The blonde seemed mighty interested in an answer.

  Given her snotty attitude, Jenna wasn’t about to confide in her silly notions that it might be. “Nope. Nothing weird.”

  “Then why the research?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? The place intrigues me so I thought I’d check out its history. It might be neat to restore some of its period features when I renovate it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Jenna sidestepped the woman and continued on to her car.

  The middle of her shoulder blades prickled, but Jenna wouldn’t allow herself to turn around and see if the woman stared.

  Arriving home, she parked and went into the house, barely shivering as the usual cold chill went through her as she entered. Mocking herself, she chimed out a cheerful, “Oh, resident ghosties, I’m home.” No one replied, but a draft lifted a few strands of her hair.

  The books got dumped on the living room table, and she headed to the kitchen to prepare some dinner. She’d hit them later, especially since they looked like dull reading and she didn’t want to put herself to sleep until later. She still wasn’t even sure why she’d grabbed them. It wasn’t like a pile of old books was going to help with her draft problem.

  Unless I use the pages as insulation.

  Chapter Seven

  Mark wandered over to look at the books Jenna had brought home, noted the photocopied press releases, and almost did a little jig. Containing himself, he instead went looking for Derrick, whom he found lying on Jenna’s—or could it still be considered Derrick’s?—bed.

  “I think it’s working!” he exclaimed.

  “What is?” asked Derrick, opening his eyes, not that they ever actually slept. Slumber, eating, even masturbating weren’t things they could actually do while in their ghostly state, but faking it sometimes helped.

  “Our haunting. I think it’s working. She has a pile of books on your family downstairs. She’s researching the house.”

  Derrick didn’t seem to find the news as exciting. “And how exactly does that help us? It’s not like any of those books say a witch cursed us and we need a reversal spell to get us out again.”

  “No, but she’s also got clippings about our disappearance.”

  “Again. So what? All that tells me is she’s curious about the place she bought. It doesn’t mean a damned thing.”

  A frown creased Mark’s forehead. “What the hell is wrong with you? Since when are you the pessimistic one? I thought that was my job.”

  Derrick rubbed his face and scrubbed a hand through his hair, the strands wisping through his fingers and remaining in his unchanging style. “I’m tired of this existence. Tired of watching and waiting and being unable to do a fucking thing. I want to talk to her and have her hear me. I’d like her to see me and not look through me. I want to touch her for real, smell her, and bury my face in her hair. And I don’t see how that’s going to happen. We’re goddamned ghosts. And not even good ones. All the little haunting shit we’ve been doing? What’s it accomplished? Nothing.”

  Mark sat down on the bed beside Derrick and stretched out. “I know it’s been hard. I’m not saying we’ll get out of here tomorrow, but we will escape this prison.”

  “And when we do, we will have our revenge and claim our mate. As eldest, I promise.”

  Mark snorted. “Eldest by like five seconds. If my mother had pushed just a little harder …”

  “But she didn’t,” Derrick said with a grin. “Which means I’m the oldest so I should get first claim. This I hereby decree as your alpha.”

  “Alpha? You really going to play that card?”

  “Are you denying it?”

  “No. The distinction is yours, if barely.”

  “Barely still counts.”

  “Wrestle you for it.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Pussy.”

  Derrick chuckled. “No, just wise to your tricks. We both know you’d win. Now, if it was a race you wanted …”

  On and on they bantered, trying to desperately forget the fact that despite what they wanted, they were still ghosts, unable to lay a claim. But they could dream.

  If they ever did escape, no, make that when they did, Mark couldn’t stem a selfish hope he’d get to mark their woman first. With nothing better to do, he couldn’t help but fantasi
ze about gazing into Jenna’s eyes, eyes he would ensure were heavy with desire when he did finally get to touch her. He’d rouse her with caresses and kisses until her cheeks flushed with passion. He’d drive her wild to the point she clawed him as he penetrated her velvety sex. Listen to her cries as Derrick took her from behind, a true Lycan style joining.

  Even if they argued about who would go first, Mark wouldn’t claim her alone. Fate had made the choice. As alpha and beta, they would share. And share quite happily. If they ever escaped.

  Damn. This curse sucks!

  Fantasy was all well and good, but they still had a few problems to surmount. First, break free of their ghostly prison, then the more difficult task of wooing and convincing Jenna that she wanted them, both of them. He didn’t have to touch his wolf to know he’d enjoy the chase—and the seduction.

  Chapter Eight

  The history books proved more interesting than Jenna expected. Dinner eaten, dishes washed, and the lights dimmed except for the one by the wing chair, she settled down to read.

  The Wolfgangs, it appeared, had a long history with the town, starting back in the seventeen hundreds when the first Wolfgang had settled in the area building his home—a single room structure that over the years had grown. In 1871, a fire burned down that original house, and after clearing away the debris, the family had replaced it with the home she lived in now.

  However, the house, while historically imbued, was nothing compared to the rumors surrounding the Wolfgang family, at least according to an unauthorized memoire published about twenty years ago. They were a completely male descended line with not a single recorded daughter ever born. And they were also not a prolific one. They seemed to produce only one son per generation, occasionally two. But the younger son never stayed.

  The oldest always inherited. The oldest lived in the home. And sometimes, the oldest shared the home with another man. Titled a business partner, family friend, it seemed in each generation, the head of the family had an extra person living in the house—and possibly fathering the next line.

  Unverified rumors by townsfolk, which the author included, claimed the male duos shared the one wife. A legacy of ménage handed down? Now that was utterly messed up.

  But fascinating.

  The idea of belonging to two men at once titillated Jenna’s imagination, but a hundred or so years ago, when puritan values held sway, it must have proven shocking. However, oddly enough, that wasn’t the most shocking thing about the Wolfgangs. The author included an even more unbelievable insinuation about the male pair. There, in black and white, was the claim the Wolfgang men and their so called close family friend were natural born werewolves, alphas to be exact, and their male partner, their beta.

  “Werewolves!” Jenna laughed, a sound strangled in her throat when icy fingers tickled up her neck. She whipped her head around and, of course, saw no one.

  “Stupid drafty house.” Casting a suspicious glance around her, Jenna continued to read. The unknown author went on to claim they’d seen it themselves on a full moon. The males, who would have been the missing Derrick’s great-grandfather and his business partner, had supposedly shifted into huge wolves that howled and raced through the woods.

  With a snort, she slammed the book shut. Jenna couldn’t believe the nonsense the book contained. What surprised her was the librarian had even given it to her. This is so obviously a work of fiction. Yet, what about that picture of the boys I saw in the attic with those giant dogs that looked like wolves? Jenna snorted. She had to be losing her mind to even contemplate the idea that the wolves had been the boys’ daddy and friend.

  Yanking out the printed copy of the newspaper article with the picture of the missing guys, she studied it. They certainly didn’t look like animals. Although I bet they get wild in bed. The idea alone was enough to make her sex moisten, something that happened a lot lately. I need to get laid. In a bad way if images of dead guys turned her on.

  For distraction, she spoke aloud. “Hey, if there are ghosts haunting this place, is it true? Did you and your ancestors really share women and turn into big freaking wolves?”

  A faint sound of laughter echoed around her, and she jumped up, her skin pimpled with fear. She’d not imagined the noise. She was not alone.

  “Is anybody there?” Again, a cold draft touched her, like the light caress of a man, sliding across her neck, down the crevice between her breasts. Her nipples puckered in reaction.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she fought to calm her racing, completely freaked out heart. “This is nuts. First thing tomorrow, I am buying some of that Mono Foam stuff and filling in every crack in this house. Because there is no such thing as ghosts!” Brave words she shouted aloud, but she wished her rapidly racing pulse believed them.

  And the weird shit continued to happen.

  The pages to a book she hadn’t yet touched began flipping while Jenna watched with saucer-wide eyes. “What the fuck?” Fear coarsened her language, and she suddenly wished she had a cross—and maybe some holy water. The pages of the book settled, and she leaned in to look at where it stopped.

  She read the heading. “Witches?” she said with a snort. “That’s it! Bedtime for me.” Why she spoke aloud, she didn’t know. Just like she didn’t understand why she chose to wear thick flannel jammies to bed. And she ignored the laughter she could swear tickled her ear.

  There’s no such thing as ghosts.

  Chapter Nine

  “Bloody hell. Now what?” asked Derrick, somewhat frustrated by the thick layer of clothing Jenna had armored herself with. Even an insubstantial caress of her smooth flesh was better than nothing at all. But their spooked mate had denied him his nightly pleasure.

  “Now we take a page from my great-uncle George’s book and go dream walking.”

  “Say what?” Derrick whipped around to look at Mark, who nestled himself on one side of Jenna in the bed, his insubstantial body not even denting the mattress.

  “Our mate is very prone to dreaming. I say we join her.”

  “Seriously?” Derrick looked at Mark with a furrowed brow. “How the fuck do we do that?”

  “He explained it to me once when we were out hunting frogs. He said proximity to the dreamer helped, but basically, we need to put ourselves to sleep thinking of her, and when we start our own dream, we need to pull her in.”

  “Oh, that sounds easy,” drawled Derrick sarcastically. “Especially considering we don’t sleep.”

  “No, but we can meditate.”

  Mocking Mark was easy. Derrick slapped his hands together, closed his eyes, and hummed.

  The slap on the back of his head didn’t hurt or move him, but it made him snicker.

  “You’re an asshole,” Mark said with disgust.

  “Oh come on. Dream walking? You got to admit that’s pretty far-out. And wasn’t your uncle George the one who smoked weed?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe a lot.”

  “Fine. You got a better idea, because I’m listening.” Mark cupped a hand to his ear, and Derrick scowled.

  “You know I don’t have one.”

  “Then how is it going to hurt us to try?”

  Because Derrick feared failing. Feared arousing hope only to have it dashed. Yet, what did he have to lose? Other than a chance to razz Mark when it didn’t work? “I’ll try it.”

  “Try it or not. I don’t care. I intend to, and if it works, you can call me master.”

  “How about, if it works the first one in her dream gets to kiss her?”

  “You’re on.”

  Despite his skepticism, Derrick shut his eyes and regulated his non-existent breathing. Having learned focus techniques as a teen to help with the pain of the change, it wasn’t hard to drop into a meditative state. Question was, could he travel with it?

  Placing his ghostly hand atop Jenna’s, he sure hoped so.

  Chapter Ten

  Panting, her lungs burned with exertion. Her legs pumped madly. Her hai
r streamed behind like gossamer silk. Her unfettered boobs jiggled while rapier-thin branches whipped her naked skin.

  Naked!

  Jenna stopped her mad dash through the shadowy forest and gaped at her nude body. Her alabaster skin shone and stood out in sharp contrast to the darkness of the woods and shrubbery around her.

  “What the hell is going on? Where am I?” And why was she here … naked? With her arms crossed over her breasts, she peered around her but could see nothing but an unfamiliar, gloomy forest.

  Given she wasn’t one for nature walks, especially in the buff, she could admit she was more than a little freaked. Did she sleep walk outside the house, or was there something more nefarious afoot?

  A crackle of leaves had her whipping her head around. She squinted into the darkness but couldn’t see a thing. Turning back, she let out a scream at the sight of a pair of green eyes glowing at about waist height. They floated in the darkness as if disembodied and stared at her steadily.

  Not a good sign. With fear making her tremble, Jenna took a step back, the coarse ground abrading the sole of her bare foot. Warm air puffed against her lower spine, and ignoring the threat before her for a moment, she whirled. A terrified moan stuck in her throat when she saw how close a second pair of eyes stood to her. It didn’t help that she could see the body they belonged to. A giant wolf!

  Knowing it was stupid, but unable to stop herself, she took off running. Fear controlled her, terror, the same that all prey suffered from, gave her the adrenaline and need to escape. To hide.