Where There is Hope [Taos Wolven Mates 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
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Taos Wolven Mates 2
Where There is Hope
When Hope Ackerman is kidnapped by two of the hottest young men she has ever seen, she's more worried about their age than the fact they're werewolves from another planet. Taken from her world and into the Old West, can she overcome the fact she's an older woman lusting after two younger men…or is she?
When the sentient warship Carella flings Braxton Nylund and Joran Keavy into the future to find their mate, they waste no time snatching the beauty up when they find her. Returning to the nineteenth century, the two men must convince Hope that not only are they meant to be together, but they aren't as young as they appear.
Can the three find a way to live, laugh, and love together in the past, or will Hope insist they return her to her empty life in the future?
Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Science Fiction, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 46,849 words
WHERE THERE IS HOPE
Taos Wolven Mates 2
Tianna Xander
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
WHERE THERE IS HOPE
Copyright © 2012 by Tianna Xander
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-120-6
First E-book Publication: December 2012
Cover design by Harris Channing
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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DEDICATION
To Kevin. Thank you for your support all of these years. Without you, I may have forgotten how to dream.
WHERE THERE IS HOPE
Taos Wolven Mates 2
TIANNA XANDER
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Hopeful. What an idiotic name. Hope rolled her eyes while she filled out the job application. Who would hire her with a name like that? Hell, she couldn’t even blame her name on her parents being hippies in the sixties.
She wrote her phone number on the application and sighed. Her parents had been very well-adjusted government employees. Both of them worked at the Pentagon. Maybe it was the exhaust fumes from the smog expelled by all of the leaded-gas-burning vehicles in Washington, DC, that gave them the idea to saddle her with such a ridiculous name.
She filled in her social security number with a vengeance and groused, “I bet if they had known how hard it was going to be for me to get a damned job, they might have named me Mildred instead.” She wrinkled her nose. Mildred wasn’t much better. The name made her think of spinster great-aunts wearing tan knit stockings with the seam up the back of the leg and chunky shoes. She shuddered and filled out her address, wondering how much longer she’d be able to afford to live there.
The pen stopped working. With a curse, she tapped it on the desk in an effort to unclog it. Knowing her luck, it was out of ink. Dammit! Hope looked around wondering if she’d said that last bit out loud. She was nothing if not unlucky.
When no one gave her any untoward looks, she dug another pen out of her purse to finish the application. So what if half of it was in black ink and the other in blue? She wouldn’t get the job anyway because she had no real practical experience and she was pushing fifty.
Taking another surreptitious look around, she realized that she was the oldest person in here filling out an application. With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to the form.
After what seemed like an eternity, Hopeful Ackerman finished the application then stood and carried it to the secretary who sat on the other side of a glass partition. The young woman stopped filing her bloodred nails just long enough to take the application from Hope’s trembling fingers and glance at it before she tossed it in a stack of other applications.
“The boss’ll call ya if he’s interested.” The look the young twenty-something secretary gave her told Hope not to hold her breath. Turning, Hope walked from the office and into the sunlight.
The heat hit her hard. She’d only been outside for a minute or two and her suit was already stuck to her skin. The sound of horns honking and the smell of exhaust was making her ill, most likely because she hadn’t eaten yet.
Looking up at the bright sun overhead, she couldn’t help but wonder what she had ever done to deserve the life that the fates had dealt her. She’d never been bad. She didn’t lie, cheat, or steal. Why did her life have to take such a drastic turn? When would men realize that their midlife crisis was nothing more than a desire to be young again? Didn’t they care that their women managed to deal with the same feelings day in and day out for years at a time without ruining another person’s life?
At forty-eight, her husband of thirty years politely informed her that her services were no longer required. The asshole had actually used those words, too. After giving the jerk the best years of her life, he had left her for a bottle-blonde not unlike the one she’d handed her application off to just a few minutes ago.
How did women like that live with themselves? Hopeful decided that she would love to be a fly on the wall when her ex-
husband dropped his new squeeze toy for a younger model in about three years. It would serve the little home-wrecking bitch right.
What the younger girls didn’t realize when they stole another woman’s man, is that a leopard never changes its spots. If a man will leave his wife of thirty years for a younger woman, it’s only a matter of time before he leaves wife number two for an even younger piece of ass.
Depressed and hungry, Hope headed back to her apartment. She may not be able to eat like a king on her budget, but she had a case of ramen and a half gallon of ice cream at home with her name on it.
Chapter Two
Braxton rubbed his face with the handkerchief he’d just pulled from around his neck. Dipping it in the nearby horse trough, he wrung it out and wiped his face again. “I like the land, but the heat is killing me.” He looked at his Taos life-partner and smiled.
“Me, too,” Joran agreed. “But it would all be worthwhile if we had a female to share it with.”
Looking around their ranch, Braxton felt proud of all they had accomplished. Cows grazed the fields and other farm animals wandered about making their presence known.
He glanced over at the chickens and licked his lips, wishing that he and Joran knew how to make fried chicken. While raw chicken satisfied the wolf in him, cooked food satisfied the man. It was just too damned bad that the Earth alpha only invited them over for a home-cooked meal once a month or so.
“I don’t know about you,” Joran said as he dunked his head into the trough, “but I’m tired of waiting for a woman who will be compatible.” He gestured to the sky. “Didn’t the ship’s computer say there were easier ways to find a mate than scouring the countryside?” Or, like in their case, the entire surface of the Earth. Braxton shook his head. “She said that she could scan the surface looking for our mate. She also said something about not being able to guarantee that the search would keep us here in Dakota.”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if she’s from Timbuktu, just so long as she can fucking cook.”
Braxton chuckled. “I feel the same, my friend. Believe me. I’m tired of eating raw everything.” He wrapped his kerchief around his neck and headed for the big house they had built to accommodate the running hot and cold water and other conveniences they couldn’t do without and headed to their room.
Pulling the communicator from a large chest of drawers, Braxton contacted Carella, the ship’s computer. Like all of their computers, Carella was sentient. Being so gave her a level of wolven understanding she otherwise could not have had.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” Her tone was almost smug. She did love it when people admitted she was right. Hell, you’d think it would get old. She was a computer for God’s sake. Could she ever be wrong?
“You know you can, Carella,” Braxton said with a sigh.
In a blink, Carella transported them to the bridge of the ship. “Is there anything in particular I can do for you and your life-mate, General Nylund?”
“Please stop using my rank. It means nothing on Earth.”
“But you are not on Earth now. I find it strange that I must remind you. While on board you are a general and will be treated as such.”
Whatever. It didn’t really matter what she called him as long as she could find them a mate.
“Hello, Colonel, are you in accord with your life-mate?”
“I am.” Joran looked as though his answer left a particularly bad taste in his mouth. It seemed no one liked to ask Carella for help.
“And it does not matter where you must go to find your female?”
“No, it does not,” they both answered together.
“Computing…computing…comp—” There was a long pause then Carella said, “I have found the woman best suited to you and your partner.” There was another pause. “The only woman suited to you both is far, far away.”
“I don’t give a damn,” Braxton practically snarled. “Send us there and give us a way to find her.”
“According to my database, you will find her within two-hundred paces from where I intend to drop you. You will have thirty minutes at most to secure her for the return trip or I will bring you back without her. You cannot stay in her world.”
Braxton frowned. “Why only thirty minutes, Carella?”
“There is only one thirty-minute window of opportunity. If you cannot secure her, you will have to wait until I can find you another window and that can be a very, very long time. I can’t see how long before we will have another opportunity until this window passes.”
“Why can’t we just stay there with her?”
“Because, General, they have a very advanced civilization and you do not have credentials there.” Carella sounded almost impatient. “I will begin transport in one hour. Please take the time to avail yourself of the facilities. You won’t want to meet your mate in your present condition. I have taken the liberty of setting out clean clothing in the bathing chambers in your suite.”
“She had a very matter-of-fact way of telling us we stink.” Joran shook his head as he paced beside him then laughed. “She thinks of everything.”
“Of course she does. It’s her job. She’s a computer.”
“But she’s sentient. Have you ever wondered if she would rather do something else like…oh, I don’t know, research?”
“Like us, she chose where she wanted to be. For some reason, she allowed her consciousness to be removed from her old ship into this new behemoth of a warship.”
“Apparently, the chancellor fears that the elitists will attack. He wanted a warship here to protect Earth and its inhabitants from annihilation. Even uninhabited, this ship is a force to be reckoned with. After all, Carella never leaves and she is a crew all on her own.”
After their showers, they had a meal while they waited. The ship’s menu had a plethora of choices, and most of them were hot.
“I can’t get over how good this tastes, just because it’s cooked.” Joran took a bite of his fried chicken and closed his eyes. “I might have an orgasm right here.”
Braxton laughed. “Now I know we need a woman if a plate full of fried chicken and mashed potatoes can make you come.”
“I just thought we would have found our mate by now.” Joran shrugged. “I know we would have waited much longer on Taos, and even then the female may not have been a complete match and we would never have had children.” He took another bite of his chicken and closed his eyes with a moan. “But with all the women here on this world, I didn’t think it would take so long to find her.”
“Two years is not a long time in the grand scheme of things.”
“No, it’s not,” Joran said, shaking his fork at him, “but I still thought we’d be mated and happily celebrating the arrival of our first cub by now.”
“Me, too,” Braxton said on a sigh. “Me, too.”
“General?”
“Yes, Carella?” Braxton pushed his plate away and stood.
“I’m ready if you are.”
“We’re ready.”
“Good. The clothing looks good on you, by the way.”
“Thank you.” He looked down at the jeans and boots he wore. The workmanship was of a much higher quality than the canvas pants they bought from that miner out west. The plaid shirt was as well. The tightly woven fabric was thin and light. “I would love a wardrobe full of this type of thing when we return. Do you think it would raise eyebrows?”
“I’m certain it would, General, but you could tell them it’s foreign and name an exorbitant price you know the humans would never pay.”
Braxton grinned at the idea. Sometimes Carella had some good ideas, even if most of the crew found her annoying.
“Ready, General?”
“Yes. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Stand up and brace yourselves. This could be a difficult transition.”
Chapter Three
Hopeful made her way home from the bus stop. Her feet and back hurt from walking most of the day. She’d b
roken a heel and her stockings had a hole in them. Things couldn’t possibly get worse.
She strode by an electronics store window and stared at her reflection. Was that really her with her hair standing up in all directions, her shirt half untucked, and listing to one side because of her one broken heel?
Squinting her eyes, she took a better look and her shoulders sagged. Yep. That was her all right. No wonder none of the potential employers she visited had wanted to give her the time of day.
Tears burned her eyes and the back of her throat as she stood and stared at herself, speechless. No wonder her husband left her for a younger woman. How long had she looked so bad? Was it just because she’d been out in the unforgiving heat all day or was it because she really was over the hill like her ex-husband had said?
It wasn’t fair! Why did men dump their wives for younger women as they got older? Why was it okay for a man to get old, while a woman couldn’t just age gracefully? For some reason, a woman never aged gracefully. Someone always tagged them with the over-the-hill label.
Turning away from the window, her eyes filled with unshed tears, Hopeful Ackerman headed home. She was well on her way to rock bottom and there was nowhere else to go but farther down.
It had just started to rain when she rounded the corner of her street. What else could go wrong? Staring down at the sidewalk in front of her to keep the raindrops out of her eyes, she started to run…or tried to, anyway. It was difficult with her broken heel. Preoccupied, tears blurred her vision as she ran and she didn’t see the long, jean-clad legs and cowboy boots until she plowed right into the man they belonged to.