by Sarra Cannon
Not her.
She was simply a momentary obstacle blocking his path to the woman he wanted. It shouldn’t have stung, but it did. She was tired of being someone’s collateral damage.
“They like you.” It killed her to admit that truth to Riley, but she’d seen the assessing looks Landry had been shooting Riley all day. He was thinking things, imagining all the erotic ways he could touch the other woman.
Riley shook her head. “If those boys are planning on having themselves a bayou sandwich, you’re the one who’s going to play the filling.”
Mary Jane flinched. “Hell no.”
There was wishful thinking about remote possibilities, and then there were fantasies that weren’t ever coming to life. Whatever she knew about threesomes, she’d learned from the pages of her romance novels, and those pages didn’t precisely come with step-by-step instructions. Put her in bed with Dre and Landry, and she wouldn’t know where to start.
Other than working her way down from top to bottom, kissing each inch of Breaux as she went.
The other woman laughed. “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Hell, I’ve thought about it. I’d bet every dollar we make on this run that Dre and Landry know exactly what they’re doing in bed. You’d never forget a night like that.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You sure?”
No way Mary Jane would answer Riley’s question and open up that can of worms. Instead, she looked back over her shoulder at the two men again. “They don’t want to play those kinds of games with me.”
“You should try asking,” Riley said pragmatically. “You might be surprised.”
Mary Jane didn’t like surprises. Surprises were code for scare the shit out of you and had never ended well. Her child self had learned to hide fast when surprise was mentioned or her intuition started sparking.
Right now, that intuition said these boys were trouble.
Stubborn, determined, sensual trouble. Which was far better than the hit-me kind of trouble her child self had run into, but trouble was still trouble.
She chewed on her lower lip, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could bite them back. “I’d disappoint them.”
“You enjoy yourself, they’ll enjoy themselves.”
Her experience with really good sex was limited, certainly nothing that would put her in the Breaux brothers’ league. She’d given up her virginity on prom night because her date had pushed her, and she hadn’t been saving herself for anything anyhow. Better to get it over with and make someone happy. Not a bad experience, but nothing ecstatic, either. After a couple of weeks, they’d both gone their separate ways and she’d been grateful he hadn’t left her pregnant.
She deserved more than that. She knew that.
“They’re crew,” she protested.
“Uh-huh.” Riley looked over at the Breauxs and smiled. That slow, knowing grin lit up her face. Riley had a naughty side, and she’d obviously decided it was Mary Jane’s turn for a little trouble. “That means they’ve got to take orders, right?”
“You think men like that really take orders?”
As if he knew she was watching him, Landry set his empty Coke bottle back in the cooler and strolled over to join Dre. God, he was fine. He knew it, too. Handling one man that dominant would be impossible. Landry was an alpha through and through, and no matter how laid-back he looked or acted, he’d demand everything from her in bed, and he’d be the one in charge.
God help her if she let Dre into her bed, too.
— —
Sometimes being a shifter had its advantages. This was one of those times. Dre’s ears probably should have been burning, but instead his cock was hard as steel, reminding him that it had been too long since he’d held a woman in his arms. Every word the girls exchanged was plain as day, clear across the boat’s deck. Hell, Mary Jane might as well have been whispering naughty suggestions into his ear. No way could he get any harder.
He slid a glance sideways at his brother, playing his interest off as casual. “You think she means it?”
Landry’s grin lit up his face. “That she’d do us in a heartbeat?”
Dre punched his brother lightly on the shoulder. “You don’ wan’ to share?”
Landry’s eyes darkened. “Hell yeah. We do everythin’ together, so I’ve been hopin’ we’ve got ourselves the same blue-moon bride. That would work out real well for us, and it sure sounds like our girl over there isn’t opposed to the idea.”
“She’s goin’ to take some coaxin’.”
Landry grinned. “That’s half the fun. A little holdin’, a little kissin’. Then we pop her the question: which one of us will it be?”
“And you think she’d choose both of us?”
“I sure hope so.”
Dre figured his brother could do all the wishing he wanted. Wishing never changed the facts, though. For a long moment he stared down at the bayou water slapping gently at the side of the boat. Those barely there waves forced a little rock and sway into the Bayou Sweetie’s pitch. A heron shrieked from the deep reeds, and its mate answered.
“Which one?”
“What?” Landry looked up.
“Which one do you think is ours?” Dre knew which one he wanted.
“We’re goin’ to wait and see.” Landry stepped in closer, his shoulder bumping his brother’s. “But I still think that Riley is ours.”
Riley Jones was a really pretty woman. Any man would be lucky to have her by his side. She was strong, strong enough to deal with Pack life and hold her own. Somehow, though, she wasn’t the one his eyes went to. No, he wanted to look at Mary Jane. Wanted to unwrap her, too, and kiss her from head to foot. She’d get eaten alive by the Pack, but damned if she didn’t call to him.
“You don’ think our mate could be Mary Jane?” He dropped his question into the conversation, all casual-like, but his brother knew him too well.
“You got a thing for her?”
He didn’t know how to explain the bone-deep attraction he had to Mary Jane, so he settled for staring his brother down.
Landry sighed. “She’s a beta, Dre. You put her toe to toe with the Pack, and she’s backin’ down. You think that’s fair to her?”
“I’d protect her,” he said fiercely.
“Maybe she wouldn’t wan’ the protectin’,” Landry pointed out carefully. “Seein’ as how this is a modern century and all. She jus’ might choose a different way to live, that’s all.”
The Pack was centuries old. Most of them had grown up in Medieval Europe, the last pups born to the old Packs, when the males had still found female mates easily. Before the blue moons had grown less and less frequent and their numbers had grown fewer and fewer. Their women were treasured and protected. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how much times had changed, Dre would never look at his mate and not see a woman to be valued, protected, treasured and kept safe. And Mary Jane appealed to that primitive side.
So he was a possessive bastard. He wanted to master every inch of Mary Jane. He wanted to teach her the sweet pleasures of submission. He wouldn’t hurt her. Never that. He didn’t know, though, if what he had to offer was enough.
Mary Jane deserved everything. Sun, moon and stars, he wanted her to have it all. She deserved better than a too-old, too-dominant wolf. Her man should have a little soft in him, a little give, and he’d never be that man.
“It don’ matter,” he said finally. Liar. “We’re goin’ to find out tonight.”
Landry looked over at Riley again. She was laughing at something Mary Jane had said, something Dre had missed because he was too busy arguing with his brother. She was pure trouble, that one. Taming her could be fun, but his heart wasn’t in it. She wasn’t the woman he wanted, and that might be a problem.
“You don’ think she could be yours?”
“I’m sure she’s a fine woman.” Just not for me.
“It won’ be long now.” Landry searched the cloudy sky
for what had to be the hundredth time that day. Sunset was still two hours off or more, but they were both anxious and on edge.
He wanted Mary Jane and Riley inside and under cover. The thunderstorm rolling in over the bayou had his wolf on edge, the air tense and expectant. It wasn’t just the weather.
The problem was, the vamps were out, too, hunting.
He could smell them, even without shifting. There was no missing the oily, pungent stink coming off the bayou’s edges. Landry knew it too, because his gaze kept returning to the bank like he expected an army to make for them anytime now.
The newly repaired rake stuck, the teeth snagging on some unseen obstacle beneath the surface. Hell. Jerked out of his thoughts and back to business, Landry strode to the side, getting there the same time as Dre. The only way to free the rake without damaging the equipment was underwater.
“You up for a swim?” Landry grinned at his brother. Maybe a little cool and wet would calm his nerves. Or not. He eyed the bank one more time, then climbed up onto the railing and launched himself into the air, hollering. He hit the water in an explosion of spray, Dre following in a smooth, clean dive that cut through the surface of the water.
Onboard, Mary Jane worked the motor to keep the boat in one place.
“You wan’ to call in the Pack now?” Landry asked.
Dre treaded water, considering that option while Landry dove down. “Not yet,” he decided, when Landry’s head broke the surface again. “We don’ actually know for sure that our mate is on this boat.” He eyed the sky with its covering of clouds. Night was coming in fast now, a soft, dusky twilight wrapping itself around the cypresses and the skyline.
That moon was going to rise all right.
— —
Take both women, head upriver fast and hunker down at the camp. That was definitely one option.
Landry eyed the women working onboard. Forcing them to leave would lead to questions. Plus, while his instincts screamed one of these women was theirs, he didn’t know so for a fact and wouldn’t until the moon rose. He wasn’t laying hands on an innocent. Bad enough either Mary Jane or Riley was about to get dragged into a centuries-old battle between the werewolves and the vamps.
“They won’ come quiet,” he warned.
Dre slicked a hand over his head, scrubbing away water. “That sounds about right.”
“So better to wait until we know for certain.”
Dre nodded. “Then take her and run.”
“Unless she runs first.” Landry grinned. Christ, he liked the hunt. They all did.
“She runs tonight, she runs into company on those banks.” Dre eyed the bank. Again.
“She’s not goin’ to like this.”
“Yeah. We stick real close tonight. Take turns keeping watch.”
While they worked, they laid out a plan. One man for each woman, keeping his eyes on her in a little one-on-one action. Hunting together was better, but the goal here was to keep both Mary Jane and Riley safe. Even if she wasn’t a mate, the way Landry saw it, no woman deserved what the vamps would dish up. Those hungry bastards would suck her dry, leave her to bleed out and die alone in the bayou.
No way he’d let that happen.
He and Dre must have spent too long talking and not enough time fixing for their captain, though. “You boys got this?” Mary Jane hollered at them from the boat, leaning over the railing.
“She’s not as shy as she makes out,” Dre observed.
Landry gave her a two-fingered salute. “Almost there, sha.”
She rolled her eyes but went back to the wheel.
“Or she’s jus’ braver with twelve feet of bayou between us and her. But I’m hopin’ he’s the one, too.” He sucked air in, getting ready to go back down. “Holdin’ her will be real sweet. There’s all sorts of things we could be teachin’ her.”
Dre smiled slowly. “Yeah. That would be good.”
Landry dove. The bayou waters closed over his head, a cool curtain of wet. It was hard to see through the dense, murky water, but the bottom wasn’t all that far away, and he found the rake. One final tug and the debris twisted around the metal teeth gave.
He came up, whooping.
Dre was already slicing through the water, closing the distance between himself and the boat. Landry followed, savoring the cool drag against his body. The air was summer hot, and he’d spent the day painfully aware of Mary Jane working alongside him. His wolf liked the water and always had. Swimming in the bayou was a treat. He shook the drops from his face. Of course, being out here in the bayou was even better when he was hunting. Getting a hand on the railing, he pulled himself up.
Mary Jane watched him come towards her, and that didn’t help his dick settle down any. Her eyes widened, her gaze flickering down over his chest and the soaked denim. He should have stripped off before diving in, but she was deliciously nervous and dancing around the attraction between them. She wanted things to be professional, so he’d kept his pants on. Now the wet denim molded to his thighs and ass. He’d dry fast enough—and enjoy every minute of Mary Jane’s covert examination. She’d clearly thought he was the nice brother.
Yeah, her mistake.
He was definitely a bastard.
If she’d been a wolf in the wild, he’d respond to that subtle feminine interest, the way she walked closer to him, edging into his space. Maybe she’d brush against him, touch her arm to his. Bump into him as they worked on the deck. Nothing overtly sexual, not yet, simply the casual touch of two people sharing a small space. He’d know when she was ready, when he could scent her sweet cream slipping from her pussy.
Then he’d make his move, pin her to the ground, his teeth nipping her shoulder.
Pin her and take her.
Fuck her deep and hard, until she acknowledged this need he had for her and her for him.
Mine.
Chapter 3
After dropping their haul at the nearest fishing town, Mary Jane turned and headed straight back into the bayou, pushing deep into the waterways until it was too dark to continue. No need for Dre to warn her about the risk of driving the boat over a snag or hunting alligators. She’d anchored right as the last light faded, the distant roar of a gator a familiar note beneath the cheerful chatter of roosting herons. Her desire to get an early start tomorrow meant camping tonight.
No worries.
Dre would always indulge her.
Only a handful of stars glinted through the cloudy night sky. Dre willed those concealing clouds to part, for the moonlight to shine through. He wanted to know. After this long, he and Landry were finally close. Maybe tonight they’d find their mate. He’d win the chance to explore his erotic fantasies and then some, although that was only part of the draw. Whoever their mate was, she’d be special. Theirs. Riley had already bunked down on deck, wrapping herself in a nylon sleeping bag despite the lingering heat. The smudge pots lined up by the railing kept off the worst of the bugs.
Right now, he had himself a plate of oyster stew to tackle. To his surprise, Mary Jane could cook. He liked the concern that cooking implied. She wanted them to eat, wanted to do some taking care of her men, and he savored that small sign. Plus, her oyster stew was good, all thick cream and onion, followed by the sweet meat with its briny punch. And plenty of Louisiana hot sauce to add a welcome bite.
He’d shucked the oysters for her. Not a big thing, but he enjoyed doing it for her. Her eyes had widened when he gripped the oyster barehanded, sliding the tip of the knife into the oyster’s hinge. A quick pop-and-roll, a little pressure, and the shell moved. He’d turned the knife blade, twisting smoothly as he enjoyed her attention, and the oyster separated. A flick of the blade along the shell halves and the meat had pulled away. Better yet was the way her fingers brushed against his whenever she took the shucked oysters from him.
Hell. He had it bad. He set the plate aside and looked up at the sky, but the clouds stayed put.
On deck, Riley was dead to the world in her sleeping bag,
grumping a little when Mary Jane slid by her and dropped over the side. That woman was up to trouble all right. His brother slipped upriver behind her. That was good, then. While Dre kept his eyes on Riley, Landry would keep Mary safe.
— —
She was on fire.
Every time Mary Jane closed her eyes, images of the Breaux brothers teased her. Dre’s broad, bare shoulders flexing as he hauled in a load of oysters. Landry diving straight as an arrow into the bayou because the rake had tangled and someone had to fix things. Coming up wet and laughing, brushing his hair back from his face. She’d wanted to trace those drops of water down his neck and over his chest. She’d wanted to keep going right on down. Those soaking-wet jeans left almost nothing for her to imagine. He was big, deliciously so, and staying hands-off was a challenge she hadn’t expected.
No way would she stay on the Bayou Sweetie tonight. Not when Dre and Landry were on the other side of the deck, a few yards of empty space and not much more between them.
Her pussy was wet and swollen, her folds aching. And not only for Landry, if she was being honest with herself. No, she wanted both brothers, and she didn’t know what that said. She wanted their hands stroking over her breasts and further south. She wanted to be skin to skin with them, and that couldn’t happen. Sex on the boat was a bad idea. Give those boys an inch and they’d take a mile. Her Breaux brothers were big, dominant males, and she was already fighting to stay in control.
Plus, it wasn’t as if she’d ever fantasized about a threesome before she’d met Dre and Landry. Sure, the rumors ran wild through the bayou. The Breaux brothers were big, dark, good-looking brutes. Whispering over beers, it was easy enough to believe they got up to all sorts of kinky sex out there in the hunting camp where they lived year-round. Face-to-face with the possibility on the deck of her boat, well, that was something else, no matter what Riley urged her to do.