Wolf Detective

by Candace Ayers

We were all boneless, exhausted, barely able to whisper endearments to each other as we drifted into a deep sleep, the two men on either side of me .

  I woke briefly sometime in the night, and their arms were still locked across my waist, holding each other and me at the same time .

  I had never imagined such a thing, had never believed that my marriage to Dimitri would bring anything but misery. But now, nestled between the cool bodies of both men, my own body still faintly pulsing with the memory of what had happened, I felt only peace, and a kind of overwhelming happiness that I had never dared to imagine. I closed my eyes, feeling peaceful sleep begin to drift over me again, and for the first time in months, I could think of nothing but how very content I was .

  The world was a very strange place, indeed .

  The Lion’s Claim

  STORY DESCRIPTION

  E veryone in the city knows Jakob Moore , the billionaire playboy whose face graces the covers of multi- national newspapers and magazines. Referred to as one of the world’s richest eligible bachelors, as well as a cutthroat businessman and CEO, Jakob is well aware of his reputation. He’s proud of it !

  A fter all, he’s the CEO of a highly successful corporation, King of his lion shifter pride, has a different girl on his arm every night… what man in his right mind wouldn’t envy him? His life is damn near perfect until the fateful afternoon he runs into sweet, curvy Bree Reynolds. Literally .

  S uddenly, Jakob’s fabulous high-powered world becomes hollow and superficial. In fact, nothing in his life means anything to him unless he can claim Bree as his mate .

  B ree Reynold’s parents are pressuring her to marry, but not to just any man. They want her to find a husband whose financial and social status will rival their own. But, there's not a man alive who can pin Bree down. If her parents' horrendous marriage wasn't enough to convince her that love is a sham, then her last few years working as a marriage counselor certainly was. Bree has been surrounded by awful relationships and painful, troublesome marriages .

  W hen Jakob Moore enters her life, he's already got two strikes against him. He's rich, and he thinks he loves her. He’s quick to learn that the only thing Bree hates more than the phony concept of love, is money .

  S urrounded by yes men, Jakob is used to getting what he wants, but with stubborn, headstrong Bree, he certainly has his work cut out for him. Bree’s mind is made up, and no man will convince her otherwise. Not even Jakob Moore, the sexy CEO who makes her pulse race and her knees weak .

  W hen Bree gets dragged into danger because of him, Jakob has had enough and now he will stop at nothing to save her and mate her. But, will Bree accept this Shifter into her life before it's too late, or will her stubbornness be the end of her ?

  1

  B ree Reynolds sat in her office listening to Mary and Peter Ableman discuss their sex life—or lack thereof—for the third time this month. When she'd ditched law school to go into marriage counseling, she'd thought she'd be saving marriages, helping people. Since graduating and getting her job at Oasis Counseling Services, she hadn't seen one couple successfully redesign their marriage into a happy one. Oh, plenty of couples stayed married after coming to see her, but those marriages consisted mostly of women who'd decided to accept their husband's infidelities, or men who'd decided to stay with their nagging, ball crushing wives for the kids ' sake .

  That was a big one: for the sake of the kids. She heard it all the time from couples. She knew she should just stop asking, but inevitably she'd put the question to them: Do you still love each other? Think about each other during the day? Miss each other when you're not together? The inevitable answer was always: Well, no, but for the sake of the kids ...

  Her phone vibrated and she looked down to read the text from her mother .

  Are you coming to our anniversary dinner? I haven't received your RSVP. Your father's not well, you know. It could kill him if he doesn't see you .

  Talk about passionless marriages. Bree's parents had decided that making money was their top priority, and everything else was a distant second. They were richer than Bree would ever be, but they hadn't loved each other since she was five. She was twenty-six now. That's a lot of years to spend with someone you can't stand. Bree rolled her eyes and looked up to see Mary and Peter staring at her .

  "Sorry," she said, "did you say something?" Bree caught her reflection in the mirror and smiled at her new haircut. The hairdresser had been right. It complemented her round face and the curves of her body. Somehow her bright green eyes looked that much brighter with a cute bob and red highlights .

  "I asked," Mary said, her voice barely audible over Peter's heavy breathing. "If you thought it was worth it for us to stay together?" She burst into tears then and Peter automatically stuck out his hand and patted her knee. It would have been sweet if Bree didn't know the main reason for Mary's tears was because of the twenty-year-old secretary she'd caught Peter screwing not long ago .

  Bree replied with her much rehearsed answer to such questions. "There's still a lot of work to do, but if you love each other, that work can be done. Marriage is tough for everyone ."

  Which is exactly why I'm never getting married. No marriage plus no kids equals a happy life .

  She looked out the window and wished she could be outside and away from this constant reminder that all the movies and songs got it wrong. There was no such thing as happily ever after .

  * * *

  J akob Moore sat behind his mahogany desk and looked at his watch. The overhead lights flickered on the gold, creating a rich tapestry of yellows and creams that made his watch look shiny and expensive. Considering the fact that it was expensive—very, Jakob appreciated the opulence of it as it gleamed against the tan of his skin .

  Blake scanned Jakob's face, uncertain if he should speak. He hated feeling inferior to anyone, especially Jakob. But that's what being second in command meant—you were always inferior to the King above you .

  "Well?" Jakob asked. With this new deal coming up, there was nothing to be left to chance. Jakob had planned this takeover for too long. Putting his competition out of business was the only thing he'd thought of for the last several months, carefully plotting each move before taking action. That was what any good leader did—thought of a solution, then implemented it. The takeover wasn't about getting rich—Jakob already had billions more than he could count—it was about protecting his pride from their rival company .

  If one rival was able to make a dent in his production, reduce his income by even one percent, the whole pride would suffer. The pride depended on him not just for money, but for their lives. It was Jakob's company—he was the alpha, the King, after all—but it was run by his pride, and they all depended on him to make sure it continued .

  "Well?" Jakob demanded, baring his teeth a little more. He did not like waiting for answers .

  "If I gave anyone the impression I was displeased with you in any way," Blake said, hiding the snarl that tried to rise in his throat, "I apologize. You know that's not true. My only intention when speaking with Mark was to emphasize how important this deal is. When we crush Remy Riders, it will make our own product that much stronger, and our pride that much more powerful ."

  Jakob nodded. He knew Blake wasn't being entirely honest, as pride leader he could sense even the hint of a lie, but he also knew Blake was loyal. If he'd sensed any semblance of disloyalty, he'd have banished him from the pride right then and there. As the King, it was sometimes important to distinguish between disloyalty and someone blowing off steam .

  "Now leave me," Jakob said, running his hand over the golden blonde scruff on his chin, "I need to get ready ."

  2

  "N o, Mom." Bree stepped out of her office building. It was five o'clock and she needed a latte. The phone burned against her ear as she hurried down the street. " No , Mom ."

  "B
ut Bree," her mom persisted, "you're almost thirty. You need a man . Why don't you just meet Walter? He's cute ."

  Bree scoffed. ‘Cute’ to her mom usually meant someone either way too old or way too young for Bree. "He's probably rich too, right ?"

  "Well..." her mother said. "He could support you in a comfortable lifestyle. Then you could quit that God-awful job you have. I still don't know what you were thinking when you left law school. It was probably the worst decision you’ve ever made. Other than giving up your gym membership and indulging in a calorie- laden diet ."

  "I'm perfectly fine with my size, Mom. And I like my job." Both things were true. The curves of Bree's body were abundant, but she felt that they were fashioned from a certain type of sex appeal that she was proud of. She was glad she had avoided the stick figure and bird's legs gene that her mom had been cursed with. Bree was voluptuous and although she resisted most advances from men, that didn't stop her from appreciating the way men's eyes followed her as she moved across a room .

  As for her job, despite feeling like the couples she counseled were all doomed, she also still held out hope that she could help them get through the encroaching darkness a little easier. She thought there were times she at least made the failure of marriage a little easier to take .

  "Bree, are you listening to me?" her mom screeched into her ear. "What about our anniversary party. You need to — "

  Bree slammed into something hard and bounced off it like a rubber band. She fell back on the sidewalk and felt her hands scrape pavement, her phone flying from her hand. Her mother's voice still screeched through the air from five feet away. She shook her head, dazed. What the hell. She felt like she'd just crashed into a semi-truck .

  "Are you alright?" A voice, deep and dark and irresistible, spoke to her through a fog. She shook her head again and looked up into the eyes of a man who couldn't be real. He was too perfect. His eyes were layered with shades of gold and they bore into her with an intensity that had Bree wondering if he was trying to cast a spell on her .

  "Are you alright?" he asked again, extending a hand. It was larger than most men's hands, and although her common sense told her she was seeing things, she could have sworn the muscles of his hand pulsed under his skin like a heartbeat .

  "I... I'm fine," she said, finally finding her voice. She took his hand without even thinking. It felt natural to place her hand in his. His skin was hot—a few degrees warmer and he might've burned her. She wondered if he had a fever, but his golden-bronzed skin was too flawless. No infection could have survived in the body that delicious. Muscles bulged under his shirt, and thick golden-blonde hair fell into a slight shag over his eyes. For the first time in her life, Bree forgot how to breathe .

  * * *

  J akob stared at the woman in front of him. He felt something stir deep inside him, slow at first, then quickly building to a towering monolith. His muscles contracted under his skin, and he felt a flicker of that familiar defiance as the lion in him tried to escape. He took several deep breaths .

  What the hell is happening to me ?

  When he opened his eyes again he looked more closely at the woman who'd run into him. Her body was not the type he would have normally gone for, but there was something seductive about her soft curves and the pout of her lips. Her scent filled him and it was like tasting air for the first time in his life. Jakob could have any woman he wanted—and certainly enjoyed playing the field—but the second he laid eyes on this one, he knew she was the only woman he would want ever again. He had found her. His mate .

  She took the hand he offered and when he clasped his paw, so much bigger than hers, around her delicate fingers, there was an undeniable spark. Bree felt it too, only instead of being thrilled as Jakob had been, it scared the bejesus out of her. Alarm bells screamed inside her head. Warning! Warning! Get Away From This Man ! Run !

  It wasn't that she thought of him as dangerous in a way that he might do harm to her. The look in his eyes as he helped her up told her otherwise, but the pull she felt towards him was unnatural. She'd never met a man she'd been drawn to before—not like this. Her insides twisted as she retracted her hand from his, it didn't want to move .

  "Are you alright?" Jakob asked again. "Did I hurt you ?"

  Bree giggled. She couldn't help it. The school girl in her rushed to get out. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? I mean, I bumped into you, right ?"

  Jakob smiled. Bree's heart was set aflame inside her chest as the corners of his lips twitched up. Was he a model? He certainly could be. He looked like a model. Her breath quickened along with her pulse .

  Jakob's own mind was spiraling out of control. He needed this woman, and he'd never needed anything before. The meeting he'd been headed to—the one he'd planned for months—flew from his head and sailed to the clouds. It no longer mattered .

  "Where are you going?" he demanded .

  The words struck a distant memory of an overbearing mother demanding to know every detail of Bree's whereabouts, afraid she was hanging out with "the wrong crowd." Of course, to Bree's mother, the wrong crowd meant anyone who made less than a million dollars a year .

  Bree looked at this man's suit and tie. They looked expensive. His shoes shined under the rays of the sun. The gold watch wrapped around his wrist—which was so large the band could barely fit—looked like a Rolex .

  "Nowhere," she replied. Her voice was harsh, but she didn't care. This was exactly the type of man her parents would love, and the type she stayed away from. "Excuse me, I have to go ."

  She turned on her heel and left the man standing there, unaware of the twitching of his hardened jaw and the unnatural glow that burned behind his eyes .

  3

  B lake stood with his back against the limo, waiting with the driver on the side of the road like a servant .

  I'm no servant! I'm second in command !

  It almost sounded good. Almost sounded powerful. But there was that pesky word that just wouldn't go away—second . Blake had always been second best. Even in high school, when the change had happened, it had been Jakob who had turned first. Blake had followed a mere week later, but that still qualified as second .

  "Damn him for this!" Blake hollered, beating his fist against the glass. He felt the window give slightly and pulled his hand away before it broke .

  The driver looked up from his cell phone. "It's not really Mr. Moore's fault the limo had engine trouble ."

  Blake glared at him .

  The driver tried to hold his gaze against Blake's. He'd never liked Blake—he was a kiss-ass and he'd be damned if he'd let that sonofabitch think he was better than him—but soon the driver's steel faltered. Something in Blake's eyes made the driver fear being alone with him. He looked like he could snap at any moment, like... like he wasn't entirely human. But, that was ridiculous. Blake grinned at him, revealing teeth that were too sharp and too long for convention. The driver turned back to his cell phone .

  Blake laughed. Jakob would never have allowed him to mess with the driver that way, but Jakob wasn't here. He'd left Blake with this servant and went off to the meeting alone. The meeting Blake had helped plan. The one that could bring them millions and ensure the livelihood of the pride for the next decade—hell, the next century. And, here Blake was, cast aside like a piece of rotting meat. It made him sick .

  * * *

  B ree hovered in front of the counter at the coffee shop, her cheeks flaming red .

  "It was declined," the barista said. "Again ." The girl, so young she still had acne, gave Bree an exasperated look .

  "But, I know there's money in it. Try again." The barista sighed but banged some keys on her register and the credit machine reset. Bree swiped her card. It made a loud beeping noise and the screen flashed red: DECLINED .


  "Do you have another form of payment ma'am ?"

  Ma'am? Did she just call me ma'am? Jeez, this day was getting worse and worse. First, there was the same tired struggle with her mother. Next, she crashes into a supermodel body builder who makes her skin tingle, and falls flat on her ass. Not to mention that as hot as he was, she walks away from him because she's too disillusioned to see any point in granting even a small flirtation. Now , this .

  She vaguely wished she'd gotten his name. His eyes had been so intense. She felt them on her even now, those deep golden-brown orbs that had sucked her in, mesmerizing her like a magician. She knew she was probably idealizing him in her mind. No one was that perfect .

  "Ma'am," the barista's voice rose. A line was forming behind Bree. "Are you gonna get the latte or what ?"

  "I guess not," she said, lowering her eyes a fraction of an inch. She could already taste the latte on her tongue .

  "Allow me," a voice crooned from behind her .

  Bree didn't need to turn around. The voice was unmistakable. It was too deep, too sultry to be anyone other than the model she'd left on the sidewalk only ten minutes prior. Her blood pressure shot up twenty points as he stepped towards her .

  His shoes made soft clunks on the ground as he moved through the crowd. They parted for him like he was a celebrity coming down a red carpet, and he seemed to accept, no—expect it. Bree turned her head and saw the jaw on the girl behind her drop open and begin to salivate. He handed the barista a fifty. "Please, add the change to your tip jar." The girl blushed .

  The supermodel smiled at Bree and when his arm brushed hers she felt her heart skip several beats. She took a great gulp of air and said, "You don't have to do that ."