Seduced by Her Two Masters [The Wolf Masters 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)
Page 1
The Wolf Masters 3
Seduced by Her Two Masters
Anne Wade is a sculptor who lives at Pine Corner. She hires the Hot Springs Transportation company to deliver her valuable bronze sculptures to a New York gallery. Cody Winton, a driver, and Carson Mellor, the Hot Springs attorney, who are both werewolf shape-shifters, go along with her in the big rig to guard the sculptures—and her.
Carson hates the city, that’s why he moved to Pine Corner, but he can’t bear to be away from Anne. Cody’s just new and still learning the job. Anne is a sculptor first and foremost, and her entire future rests on the safety and success of these bronzes.
But bronze is ninety percent copper, and robbers can easily melt such artworks down and make a lot of money from it. How can two men keep Anne and her sculptures safe on such a hazardous journey?
Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves
Length: 20,863 words
SEDUCED BY HER TWO MASTERS
The Wolf Masters 3
Berengaria Brown
MENAGE AMOUR
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Amour
SEDUCED BY HER TWO MASTERS
Copyright © 2014 by Berengaria Brown
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-422-7
First E-book Publication: March 2014
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2014 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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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About the Author
SEDUCED BY HER TWO MASTERS
The Wolf Masters 3
BERENGARIA BROWN
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Anne Wade looked around her studio with a sense of mingled joy and frustration. For almost two years a big New York gallery had been begging her to send them some large sculptures, promising her they’d make them into a special exhibition if she did. With the arrival of the Hot Springs Transportation Company in her home town, Pine Corner, she’d dusted off the illustrations she’d designed, and was working flat out to sculpt the pieces.
Bronx Montaine, the manager of the transportation company, had promised her that he’d clear a full week in his schedule to deliver her pieces to the gallery. The date they’d penciled in for the road trip was at the end of the month. More than three weeks away. She’d need two or even three full days to crate up her pieces, wrapping them carefully for the journey, and another day to fill in all the paperwork.
Which left her a little over two weeks to finish the sculptures.
Four of the pieces were finished, standing in her studio, and looking magnificent. Well, she thought they were magnificent. Who knew what the art critics would think?
The fifth piece was almost finished. It was at the stage where she liked to leave a work for a week or so and then look at it again critically before making any final changes to it.
The sixth was—hmm. Was what? Begun? In process? Stalled?
Yeah, stalled.
And now, after she finally had her big chance to make a name for herself and earn serious money, the gallery had asked her to bring her work in at least a week ahead of time. Not because they were altering the dates of the exhibition, or to give her more publicity, but simply because their staff were going to be “very busy” the following week.
Well the staff should have been busy the following week. Busy with her exhibition. Now she had to wonder if her work was going to get sidelined and overlooked because of the gallery’s busyness.
Well shit. And she had this unfinished piece as well and no idea which direction she needed to take with it.
Although she worked in bronze, the copper was so expensive she cast the piece first in plaster and only poured the bronze after a buyer had chosen the piece. Well, usually. In this case the expense was all hers. The New York gallery wasn’t interested in a bunch of plaster models. They only wanted the bronze statues. Which was fine, except this one just didn’t want to come to life. And her time to think and let it develop in her head had been cut short.
Anne walked around her studio, running her hands over the finished sculptures. They were her best work. If the critics didn’t like them, well, too bad. She knew she couldn’t have done any better with them.
But damn, it was a hell of a lot of money to be riding on a single exhibition, even if it was in a top New York gallery.
Anne sat at her drawing desk. For the sixth sculpture she’d started with a man bending over a stream, but the man was turning into a tree. Parts of him were human, like his head, and parts of him weren’t. His legs had become the tree trunk and his feet the roots. On paper it worked. In plaster, not so much. Now she couldn’t decide whether he was a man or a tree. Her charcoal sketches looked really good. He was neither one nor the other, yet both. B
ut how to turn her idea into a three-dimensional physical sculpture eluded her.
“Er, excuse me. Ma’am?”
Anne jumped up, turning swiftly as a voice spoke from the doorway behind her.
He was youngish, her age probably, with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. She narrowed her own eyes at him and assessed his build. He’d be perfect for her troublesome bronze. The local teenagers she hired to help her lift her pieces and do other odd jobs were much too young and gangling for her imagination, but someone older, with some hardened muscles and broader shoulders, would be ideal.
“Take off your shirt.”
“What?” His voice came out as a squeak just as if he had been one of the Pine Corner teenagers. But she knew he wasn’t a local. She had no idea what he was doing here in Pine Corner or at her studio but maybe, just maybe, his body was what she needed to finish this piece.
“Take your shirt off. Now. Please.”
He gave her rather a deer-in-the-headlamps look, but did as she said, remaining in the doorway of her studio and removing his T-shirt.
She waggled her fingers at him saying, “Come in. I won’t bite. I need to look at your muscles, the line of your back. She picked up one of her charcoal sketches and held it out to him. “Stand like that.”
He stared at her, then at the picture, before shaking his head, which made his curls bounce. And then, finally he put a hand on his hip and leaned forward, as she’d drawn her man-tree.
Anne snatched up her sketchpad and a stick of charcoal, walking around the stranger, sketching the line of his back, the tilt of his hip, the way his hand bent as he rested it. When she put it beside her original sketch she laughed. “That’s the problem. Right there. The arch goes out, not in.”
“Huh?” Her unwitting model looked up at her then stepped over to see the pictures.
She didn’t know whether he understood the difference or not, but to her it was clear. Now she could finish her plaster model and cast her bronze. Hopefully still in time to meet her new, sooner deadline.
“I’m Anne Wade. Were you looking for me?”
“Um, yes, ma’am. My name is Cody Winton. “I’ve just started work with Hot Springs Transportation Company as a driver here at Pine Corner, and Bronx, um, Mr. Montaine, sent me here to talk to you about the changes in dates for transporting your work to New York.”
Once again fear bubbled inside her. “There’s not a problem with the changed dates is there?” Bronx had promised Anne that her work would be his top priority.
“Oh no, ma’am. He’s booked Animal for your delivery.”
“Animal? Oh that’s what he’s named the big rig.”
“Ms. Nevis named it, ma’am. She’s named all the vehicles.”
Anne smiled and relaxed. “I like Nevis.” She dropped her sketches onto her drawing table and turned to face Cody. “Well, Cody, what do you need from me? I assume you didn’t come here deliberately to show me the line of the man’s back was wrong?”
She’d meant to be lighthearted but he seemed horrified at the thought of criticizing her. “Oh, no, ma’am. Of course not, ma’am. I know nothing at all about art. But I promise to be the best driver you could ever want to hire.”
“You don’t have to ma’am me. Just call me Anne. How can I help you?”
“I just need to know how big the crates will be and whether we need to tie them down, that sort of thing.”
Once he relaxed she quite liked him. He proved to be very quick to work out what was needed and didn’t complain at all when she said she intended to sleep in the truck with her statues all the way to New York.
“I’m certain Mr. Montaine said that he’d slept in the truck with a delivery before. I suppose we’ll have sleeping bags or air beds or something. I can find out about that later. It must be hard to be worrying about your work being stolen all the time.”
“Oh, it’s perfectly safe here, especially something this big. Only someone with a big rig like your company could steal it from here, and half the town would notice that happening. But once we’re out on the road to New York, or anywhere else, it’s a different story altogether. A person from any one of a dozen trucks at the truck stop could knock the driver over the head and remove my bronzes. They’d be in another state and melted down before he’d even woken up. A bronze is ninety percent copper and only ten percent tin. This much copper is worth serious money. It’ll be insured of course, but that would never make up for my time, effort, and lost exhibition.”
“Nothing will happen to your artwork, ma’am. I promise I’ll guard it for you and I know Mr. Montaine will as well.”
“And I’ll be traveling with the statues as well. I always do. But right now I still have to make the sixth one.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He picked up his shirt and put it back on, then collected the paperwork he’d brought for her, shoving it in the back pocket of his jeans.
Anne smiled at his departing form. Not only did he have a nice back, but also when he’d stopped being so nervous he’d turned out to be quite an interesting person. Maybe she’d do some more sketches of him on the road trip. But right now she needed to fix her man-tree.
* * * *
Cody made his way back down the one-lane dirt road to a wider two-lane road that led to Pine Corner. They’d have to put a man on that intersection to make sure no one tried to drive along the track while Animal was there. There certainly wouldn’t be space for so much as a motorcycle on that track once the big rig was on it.
He shook his head at the sculptor. That was some woman. She’d sure rocked him to his boots when she’d told him to take off his shirt. He was busy thinking she was the sexiest woman he’d ever seen and he’d had trouble keeping his dick in his pants when she’d petted his spine. And all because she wanted to draw his back. One day maybe he’d have the opportunity to get her out of her clothes. He was certain her body would be something really worth drawing. Not that he could draw, but hell, maybe he could ask her to teach him.
There’d been the hint of round, generous breasts under her baggy shirt, and her old, stained jeans had hugged the curve of her lush ass. She was likely five eight to his six foot and he could just imagine holding her pressed against his body, her soft curves against the hard plains of his chest and hips. Oh yes indeed that would be good.
By the time he got back to the transportation office, York was on the deck grilling steaks, Nevis was playing with the three dogs, and Bronx was talking to a tall blond man at the opposite end of the deck from where York stood. Cody wasn’t exactly sure where he should go. Obviously he couldn’t report back to Bronx right now, but should he even go up on the deck? The safest thing to do seemed to be to throw a few balls for the dogs. Ben and Jerry were big brown mutts but Lady was a small, sweet dog with the biggest eyes he’d ever seen on an animal.
Maybe half an hour later, York called out, “Steaks are ready, everyone.”
Cody already knew there was a bathroom in the big warehouse so went and washed his hands. Likely he should comb his hair as well, but his bag was at the Pine Corner Plaza hotel, not here. He’d only just arrived in Pine Corner and hadn’t gotten any long-term accommodation sorted out yet. He was a werewolf shape-shifter from the Hot Springs pack up in the mountains, who’d volunteered to come work here because he had his license to drive a B-train and this branch of the company was starting to grow and need more staff. Cody was excited at the idea of working for a branch of the company where he’d get experience in all kinds of jobs as the business grew and expanded. Although he really liked driving the big rigs, and was not a bad mechanic either, he was more than willing to learn other parts of the trade as well. Hopefully he’d be of value to the business here.
He had a faint feeling he’d met the blond man before, but he didn’t recognize him from the back, and hadn’t seen his face. Likely the man was also a werewolf who’d visited the pack headquarters in the mountains at some stage.
Nevis carried out a couple big bowls of
green salad, while York put the steaks on plates and the blond man handed out knives and forks. Soon Cody was taking a big bite of delicious steak. “This is really good,” he said.
They ate almost in silence for a few minutes, and then Bronx said, “Oh, sorry. Carson, have you met Cody? He’s from the hot springs as well.”
“Maybe. I’m not good with names or faces unless we’re in a courtroom. My brain seems to disengage when I’m not working. Hi there, Cody. I’m Carson Mellor, the company attorney. I’ve been based in the city for long enough, and, like Kingston, I’ve decided to keep a lower profile and move to the country. Anywhere there’s a good Internet connection is really fine by me. I’m letting the youngsters handle the court appearances these days.”
Cody was surprised. He didn’t think the man looked old at all. Maybe thirty at most. But then, Kingston had wanted to stay on the mountain away from all the noise and tensions of the city. If this man felt the same, who was he to argue? Or maybe he was just a lot older than he looked. Either way, it was none of his business.
“Nice to meet you, Carson. I’ve just come here from the mountain to be the second driver, a bit of a mechanic, and whatever else is needed.”
“Did you get the measurements okay from the sculptor?” asked York.
“Yes, sir. But she seemed very worried her work would be stolen. Apparently people steal bronze statues and melt them down to sell the copper.”
“I remember that. There was a huge drama when some life-size bronze statues by John Waddell were stolen and melted down. That was a few years ago. 2010 maybe. No, longer. 2007,” said Carson.