by R. J. Blain
Instead of shaking with me as I expected, he kissed the back of my hand. “Sanders. Pleased to meet you.”
I shivered at the softness of his lips on my skin. My wolf wanted to do a lot more than please him. She wanted him to please us, too. My cheeks burned from a mixture of my horrified embarrassment and her desire.
Charles cleared his throat, started the car, and backed out of his spot. “We are going to Caesar’s Palace, Sanders. Miss Sara suggested the buffet there. I have, in my infinite wisdom and generosity, decided she’s your plus one for the evening, so do be a gentleman.”
“I’m always a gentleman,” Sanders replied, straightening, his eyes shifting from me to the front seat. “I can’t believe you let him do this, Wendy.”
“Let him? Oh, Sanders, Sanders, Sanders. It was my idea. He simply did what he was told, just like he should.”
Sanders settled back in his seat, grabbed his seatbelt, and buckled in. Once again, our gazes met.
Before my wolf had come to my rescue, saving me from being eaten by two werewolves, I hadn’t really wanted any of my partners. Some paid well, some were good looking and paid well, but not one of them had made me burn for him.
His dark hair was tousled, as though he had spent a lot of time running his hands through it in frustration. The amber of his eyes blazed, and once again heat spread over my cheeks and down my neck.
My interest and desire didn’t come entirely from my wolf; she didn’t care about hair color, nor did she care about the way his shirt clung to him, the top two buttons undone, begging for me to rip open the rest to find out if his entire chest was so nicely bronzed.
I clasped my hands on my lap and despaired. Maybe I had slept with men for money in the past, but I wasn’t the love them and leave them kind. Whoring myself out left me empty in the morning, unsatisfied, and wanting something more.
I wanted him, but when morning came, I wanted him to be mine.
My wolf agreed.
Chapter Six
It was a ten minute drive to Caesar’s Palace, and by the time Desmond pulled up to the valet, my wolf had calmed, but I was still trembling. My hunger returned in full force, stabbing my stomach in relentless demand.
The valet opened the door. Desmond held his arm out for me and helped me out of the car. I took care not to trip on the long hem of the slitted gown, too tired to care how much leg I showed as I stood.
My dress was a deep red, and my experience with clothing told me it probably cost more than I made in a month. I especially liked one thing about it, though; while the slit ran all the way up to my hip, it did a good job of keeping me covered, even my breasts. A little hint of my cleavage peeked out from a gap in the form-fitting top, but not enough for me to feel like the stripper I was.
Desmond guided me to the curb, and smiling, he handed me over to Sanders, who held his arm out for me. While his shirt was long sleeved, it was light and soft under my hand. My wolf enjoyed his warmth.
I appreciated him for other reasons, most of which involved me remaining on my feet.
“When was the last time you had something to eat?” Sanders asked. The amber in his eyes brightened, and he frowned.
“This morning,” I admitted sheepishly. It hadn’t stayed down long enough to really count as a meal, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“No wonder you’re gray.”
“I’ve been recovering from a stomach bug, too. It was my first night back at work, which didn’t help any.”
“Never fun. You’re feeling better, at least?”
“Mostly, thank you. Do you like Vegas so far, Mr. Sanders?”
“Just Sanders is fine, Sara—no need for formality with me,” he replied, smiling at me. “It’s been an eventful trip.”
We followed after Desmond and Wendy, and he matched my pace. I took my time, careful of my steps so I wouldn’t end up falling flat on my face. “Eventful?”
“We’ve been quite busy. This is our first real night out without work getting in the way.” Sanders shook his head and sighed. “It was supposed to be a vacation, too.”
If my clients found out how eventful—or insane—my week had been, they’d have me committed to an asylum. “I understand that. I’m pretty sure time off is an illusion. When I’m not working, I’m studying or going to class.” When we entered Caesar’s Palace, the first thing I noticed was the overwhelming stench of perfume, so strong it masked Sanders’s cinnamon and spice scent. I breathed out of my mouth, only to discover the air tasted of chemicals, acrid and harsh on my tongue.
“What are you studying?”
“I’m taking a course on marketing for businesses right now, with a focus on small businesses. I’ve been trying to get a degree so I can work in market research.”
“That’s some pretty high pay grade work, Miss Sara. Only one course? Are you filling out your final credits?”
For a moment I considered lying, but then I sighed and shook my head. What good would lying do, especially about something like that? He’d learn the truth soon enough, if I managed to hold his attention for longer than one night. “Adding my credits together, I’m not quite done my first year. I’m working my way through, but it’s hard getting the time off to attend classes, so I pick up the courses I can. I’ve been at it for almost three years so far.”
I’d been pushing my luck enrolling at all. With my falsified ID, I was limited in options, unable to take advantage of any financial aid, and unable to get a job anywhere involving a credit check. Could werewolves finish college, or was I going to end up being like Rory and Isabella, hunting down people during the full moon for sport and food?
Maybe Isabella hadn’t meant to hunt me, but she had gone with Rory’s wishes without real protest.
The alluring scent of cooking meat captured my wolf’s attention. I breathed in, and my stomach voiced its need for something—anything.
Sanders laughed. “You know what I like about buffets?”
“What?”
“I can eat all that I want, and the waiters take away the evidence of my gluttony.” He winked at me. “Desmond and I always have a competition to see who can eat the most. If we’re lucky, Wendy will join in.”
“Wendy should,” Desmond said, slowing as we reached the line for the buffet. Two couples waited in front of us, and to my relief, they were ushered in right away. “You will, won’t you?”
“You two are such children,” Wendy complained, twisting around to grin at me. “I’m sorry, Sara. They enjoy competing.”
“How do you compete at a buffet?” I asked, wondering if I should test my luck and lean on Sanders while Desmond paid for our meals.
“Number of full plates,” she replied. “Want to play?”
My wolf’s endless appetite would cause me problems, but if everyone was trying to eat as much as possible, maybe they wouldn’t notice I ate more than regular people. I hoped my wolf wouldn’t insist on eating only meat, but I had my doubts. Wolves were hunters. They were apex predators who needed meat to survive.
Since we were stuck together, I’d adapt. Hopefully she would as well.
“Sure,” I replied. All I had to do was eat less than they did. I’d lose the wager intentionally, but it would be a small price to pay to satisfy my wolf for once. At least if I threw up, it wouldn’t be too abnormal for a Friday night in Vegas. “What’s the wager?”
“I’ll take your Mercedes, Desmond,” Sanders said, grinning at the man.
“In your wildest dreams, Sanders. You may borrow it for a week if you defeat me, but if I defeat you, your truck is mine for a week, to do with as I please.”
Making a warding gesture at Desmond, Sanders replied, “Under the condition you do not drive it into your pond again, should you win. I’m still amazed you didn’t kill any of your fish with that stupid stunt. I had to have it cleaned twice to get the mud out of the interior. You won’t win, not this time.”
“You two realize that bet excludes us ladies, don’t you?” Wendy de
manded, putting her hands on her hips. Before either man could answer, a host came to guide us to our table. “Pick a wager we can all participate in.”
“You can have the Mercedes for a week if you win.” Desmond smirked before kissing Wendy’s cheek. “And his truck. What do I get when I win?”
“I already own the Mercedes, Charles. Can’t you do something normally for once?”
Sighing, Desmond pulled out Wendy’s chair for her. “Oh, fine. Twenty dollars each to the winner.”
Sanders chuckled. “I’ll still make a side bet for the Mercedes, Desmond.”
“You’re never going to get my Mercedes, Sanders. You realize this, right? Give up, it’s hopeless.” Desmond chuckled, turned to me, and gestured to the buffet. “Ladies first.”
“I always do that. I always sit down, then I have to get right back up again. One day, I will learn,” Wendy declared, setting her purse on her chair. “Come along, Sara. Let’s go see what this buffet has to offer.”
My wolf wanted to sample every scrap of meat at the buffet, and because I was hungry and it wasn’t worth fighting over, I indulged her. A part of me was grateful she had more diverse interests than I anticipated, tolerating my preferred vegetables and salad. While she wanted to scarf down our meal so no one could take our food away from us, I forced her to let me eat at my pace.
The argument between us didn’t last long, ending when she realized if I did things her way, the regular people would know we were different. I didn’t know what would happen if someone discovered I was a werewolf, and I didn’t want to find out. Keeping with the spirit of the wager, I made sure to get samples of everything, and ignoring my wolf’s disgust, I filled a lot of space with my favorite foods.
Desmond, Wendy, and Sanders ate meat and a lot of it. When I was on my third plate, they were on their sixth, leaving a pile of rib bones, lobster shells, and crab claws in their wake. My wolf was intrigued by the shellfish, and I contemplated whether or not I could get away with gorging without looking suspicious.
“Where did you find the lobster?” I asked Wendy, who still had a tail on her plate. “Was there any fish?”
She pointed across the buffet, in the opposite direction from where I had started. Grinning at me, Sanders rose from his seat. “I’ll get you some, Sara. I’m headed over there anyway.”
My wolf’s satisfaction warmed me. Good males provided for their mates; she took his offer as a promising sign of his potential. “Thanks, Sanders.”
“You eat like a bird,” Wendy said, pausing to take a sip of her wine. “Don’t be shy. We’re going to have to stuff ourselves silly to compete with those two fiends.”
“Maybe we should have offered to let you two team up,” Desmond replied, pointing a crab leg at me before turning it on Wendy. “You really should eat more.”
“Don’t you know it’s rude to point crab claws at people?” Wendy demanded. “Where are your manners?”
“Took them into an alley. Killed them,” Desmond replied, cracking open the claw with his hands instead of using a crab hammer. Gawking at him, I froze with my fork halfway to my mouth. “Relax, Wendy. Vegas is supposed to be a fun town.”
My wolf wanted me to reach over and steal the claw, making its meat mine. Defying her took all of my will, and I chomped on my salad, determined to eat things I liked instead of exclusively meat like she wanted.
Sanders saved me from embarrassing myself by returning with two plates loaded with crab claws, small lobster tails, and shrimp. The one he placed in front of me also had salmon. The sight of the fish weakened my resolve and allowed my wolf to take over long enough to push away my plate of vegetables and salad to make space for the meat gifted by the male she wanted to claim as our mate.
“That plate counts,” Wendy declared, pointing at the one I had abandoned for the seafood.
I stabbed my fork into my salad and had another bite of it. “It counts, but I’m not done with it.”
Desmond and Sanders laughed.
“Modification of wagers?” Wendy asked, pointing a lobster tail at her husband.
“I’ll consider such a thing if you make it worth my while, my dear,” Desmond replied, resting his elbows on the table while leaning forward. A golden gleam lit his brown eyes. “What are you offering me to consider such a modification?”
“Don’t be impolite, dear,” Wendy replied. Setting her lobster tail down, she took up her steak knife and pointed it at her husband. “A fair wager is more satisfying to win.”
Scowling, Desmond settled back in his seat, sighed, and nodded. “Very well. What do you propose, dear?”
“Pairs. May the best pair win.”
“How do you propose we pair off?” Desmond asked.
“Sanders and Sara versus us, dear. I will help you make off with his truck for a week if I can drive it.”
With a laugh and shake of his head, Sanders asked, “What is it with my truck? You both want to get your hands on it.”
“It’s the chrome,” Wendy replied. “I suppose you’ll have to partner with Sara if you want my Mercedes for a week.”
Desmond sighed. “Your Mercedes?”
“Mine.” While Wendy glared at her husband, there was something odd about the way she regarded him, as though unwilling to look him in the eyes for more than a moment. “You bought it for me.”
“Oh, very well. Your Mercedes, dear. What do you think, Sanders? Want to partner with Miss Sara?”
Sanders glanced at me before focusing on Desmond. “This is a trick question, isn’t it? You’re planning something, aren’t you?”
“Always, Sanders. Not up for a challenge?”
My wolf wanted Sanders, and the idea of a game against Desmond and Wendy also appealed to her. “I’ll partner with Sanders.”
“That’s the spirit,” Desmond replied, grinning at me. “I hope you’re hungry, Sanders.”
“Oh, I am,” the man my wolf wanted replied, his voice rumbling in a growl. “Your Mercedes is mine, Desmond. Just you wait and see.”
For the first time since the full moon, my wolf took control and abandoned the pretense of normality in acceptance of Desmond’s challenge. Long after I thought my stomach should have burst, she kept eating. Not only did she want to beat Desmond, but she also wanted Sanders to provide for us, coercing me into dropping hints about the foods she wanted to try. I served as her voice, resigning myself to my role while astonished and dismayed by how much she made me consume.
At the rate she was going, I was going to eat enough for ten in a single meal, far more than I would’ve eaten in an entire week. Desmond, Wendy, and Sanders didn’t seem surprised or startled by how much I was devouring, even though I ate like some starved beast. While my wolf was determined to gorge on red meats, she indulged my enjoyment of salmon, something they regarded with disdain when it proved to dominate my selection.
All three of them worried about bones, and in an act of defiance, I piled the few I found on the edge of my plate for them to see.
By the time the thought of food made even my wolf queasy, I’d lost track of how many plates I had emptied, and I shuddered when Sanders offered to hunt something else down for me.
“No more,” I begged, stealing control back from my wolf so I could shove the empty plate away.
“Finally had enough, have you?” Sanders asked, grinning at me. “Don’t want dessert?”
Shuddering at the thought of eating so much as another bite, I shook my head.
Desmond lifted his wrist, pushing back his sleeve to check the time. “We should head to the show or we’ll be late.”
“I believe I’ll be taking your keys,” Sanders announced, rising to his feet and holding out his hand. “You have been beaten, Mr. and Mrs. Desmond.”
With a heavy sigh, Desmond pulled out his keys, unattached one of two fobs, and tossed it to Sanders. “Just remember you are now responsible for driving us around.”
“At my mercy,” Sanders replied, smirking. “I like it. I’ve been trying
to best him for ages. Now I have his car with the added bonus of forcing him to rely on me for an entire week.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Desmond grumbled.
“Thank you, Sara.”
“No problem,” I groaned, crossing my arms on the table and slumping over. “I’m so full.”
“Unfortunately, you will have to suffer through walking to the car, Miss Sara,” Desmond said, standing. Circling the table, he pulled out Wendy’s chair. “It seems we have been defeated, dear.”
“So it seems. At least our new driver is a striking young man with good manners. Hopefully, he will be prompt when we require his services.” Wendy rose, turning to kiss Desmond’s cheek. “I consider this a strategic acquisition of our own slave for the next week.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how losing works, Wendy,” Sanders complained. “You pay the wager to me. I’m not your slave. Go get a rental.”
“Nonsense. I thought you’d want to drive it as much as possible.” Desmond grinned. “Come along, Miss Sara, or we really will be late.”
I sighed, lifted my head, and pushed away from the table. Sanders offered his arm. Eager to touch him, my wolf dredged up enough energy to stand. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Of course. Where’s the show, Desmond?”
“The Bellagio. It’s probably faster to just walk. We can come back for the car after or catch a taxi.”
I stared down at my shoes, wondering how I was going to survive the hike between the two hotels. Even in heels, it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but all I wanted was to find somewhere to curl up and take a nap, and my wolf made it clear she wanted Sanders at our side when we did so.
With the issue of food resolved, my wolf’s desire once again roused, leaving me shaking, hot, and aching in response to her need. Her focus mostly remained on Sanders, although she paused and considered other eligible males who fit my list of criteria.
They, however, had not pleased her. Sanders had, without question or complaint, fulfilled her every request. The trait boded well for her needs in a mate.