Stanley, Gale - Spitfire [Southwest Shifter 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Gale Stanley

  Southwest Shifters 2

  Spitfire

  Brady and Cade are already lovers, but each wolf-shifter has his mind set on making a certain she-wolf his mate. By the time the men realize they're meant to be a threesome, Ayala has made other plans.

  Ayala cares for her Lycan lovers, and she enjoys being submissive in the bedroom, but she wants more than a life taking care of two dominating wolves. Her Alpha sends her to Philadelphia to work with a Lycan doctor who runs the FIRM, a pack-funded research facility. Seduced by a lavish lifestyle and promises of a career, Ayala soon finds herself at the mercy of the unscrupulous scientist and longing for the life she left behind.

  Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Vampires/Werewolves

  Length: 24,162 words

  SPITFIRE

  Southwest Shifters 2

  Gale Stanley

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  SPITFIRE

  Copyright © 2011 by Gale Stanley

  E-book ISBN: 1-61926-010-7

  First E-book Publication: November 2011

  Cover design by Jinger Heaston

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 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

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Spitfire by Gale Stanley from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Gale Stanley’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Stanley’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  For Mom and Dad, thanks for always being there.

  I miss you both more than I can say.

  There’s no place like home!

  SPITFIRE

  Southwest Shifters 2

  GALE STANLEY

  Copyright © 2011

  Chapter One

  Safe inside the car, Ayala stared at the dancing neon lights that spelled Silverado Saloon in red, white, and blue. Suddenly her plan didn’t seem so foolproof, and she had second thoughts.

  “You getting out?” Mr. Hopper’s raspy voice asked impatiently.

  After begging him, a neighbor she hardly knew, for the ride, she couldn’t very well ask him to turn around and take her home. She checked her hair in the rearview mirror, thanked him for the lift, and climbed out of the car. Outside the honky-tonk, a melting pot of humanity gathered. Cowboys, tourists, white-collar, blue-collar, every class of people was represented—except hers. Could she pass? New clothes and a kickass attitude didn’t change who she was inside. Maybe she should—

  Ayala turned in time to see Mr. Hopper take off with a squeal of tires and a spray of gravel. She watched the lights of his ancient station wagon disappear in the distance. It was too late to change her mind now, and her heart raced while her feral instincts told her to fight or flee. She tamped down the primal response to an unfamiliar situation. She was not in danger here. She hoped.

  Okay, showtime. Out of her element for sure, but damned if she would show it, she sauntered up to the door, hips swaying in skintight, faded jeans. Ignoring the appraising stares from the males catching a smoke in front of the building, she opened the door and walked in as if she owned the place. Like nothing she’d ever seen before, the gargantuan room overwhelmed her. She stepped into another world, an alien world gone wild, complete with a mechanical bull roped off to her right.

  Ayala turned to her left. A small cowboy band, set up next to a dance floor, played country western. If she had to dance, she’d be in big trouble. She could follow along to a slow number, but these people were twirling and twisting to the music like they’d been born hoofing. Nobody said she had to dance. She’d start with a drink and take it from there.

  A plan this complicated and important couldn’t be rushed. This was only a trial run, an audition to determine how well she could blend in with the human race. There were no obvious physical differences between Lycans and humans, but she’d lived a segregated life with her seriously antisocial wolf pack, and she had to be sure she could fit in outside their tiny hidden society. If her acting was believable, she’d put plan B into action.

  She’d always been a loyal and obedient member of the pack. All twenty-two years of her life had been spent playing it safe and trying to please everyone, and consequently not pleasing herself. She wanted to break away and take a shot at having a life of her own, but she would not put the pack in danger by revealing their existence. If she could pass for human, she’d feel safe leaving the old life behind.

  The goal was to look sexy and sinful, the complete opposite of her normal, boring self. What would the other shifters say if they could see her now in a sexy, red spandex halter that left nothing to the imagination and brown suede boots with high-stacked heels? She scanned the room from the corner of her eye, half expecting to see one of the men, or the Alpha himself, ready to drag her back to New Hope, the name they’d given their little community. Ha! No Hope was more like it. No hope for love, no hope for a life, and no hope for the future. She wanted more, and if all went well, she wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop her.

  Yeah, she was behaving with the intent to deceive, but so what? The Alpha always said humans were sly and deceitful, and she wanted to fit in. Encouraged by the appreciative looks on the male faces around
her, she straightened her shoulders, thrust out her double Ds, and sashayed to the bar. A chorus of wolf whistles followed her across the room. Instead of being embarrassed by the attention, the audible sounds of approval spurred her on. Tonight was a test. If she passed, she’d have the proof she needed, validation that she could fit in with the humans and live life on her terms.

  Damn! She couldn’t get near the bar. With standing room only, the crowd was two deep, and everyone was jostling and jockeying for position. Five minutes passed, and she hadn’t moved. The Silverado was nothing but a big, old barn with a bar and a dance floor. She had no idea the western bar was so popular. Maybe she should have looked for a smaller place to try her wings.

  “Boy, this line is taking forever.”

  Was someone talking to her? She glanced to her left, then her right, but didn’t catch anyone’s eye. A hand tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned her head—and looked down. Well, that hadn’t taken long. Only here five minutes and already she’d captured the interest of one of the humans. Too bad he got shortchanged in the height department. She could rest her chin on the top of his head.

  “I’m going to muscle my way up to the bar. Can I buy you a drink?”

  Sorry, I’m not that thirsty. “Sorry, I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”

  Shorty looked disappointed and disappeared into the crowd.

  Ayala turned back to her destination. She could muscle her way through the mob easily, but a human woman would wait for a man to buy her a drink. She sighed and tried to look like a thirsty woman who needed a big old cowboy to come to her rescue and buy her a drink.

  Two hands landed heavily on her shoulders, and warm breath fanned her ear. She froze. They were human hands, not big old wolf paws, so she relaxed a little.

  “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?”

  “Trying to get a beer.” Wow, she was better at this than she’d expected.

  “I can help you out with that.” The figure behind her lowered his hands to her hips and rolled his pelvis against her ass to let her know he had a hard on—as if she cared. She had all the sex she needed at home, and his equipment didn’t impress.

  Not much taller than her, the man practically rubbed noses with her when she turned her head. Were all human males short? She’d never felt big and awkward around the men in her pack. They all towered over her five-foot-nine-inch frame, and the submissive side of her wolf enjoyed being dominated by a six-and–a-half-foot Lycan male—in bed, anyway.

  Maybe her criteria were too selective and narrow. She’d set the bar too high, and she really had to stop comparing every man she met to Brady and Cade. It was time to forget some of her basic requirements and lower her expectations. These men were human, after all.

  She tried looking at him more objectively. The human’s stubbled jaw was a plus, but she’d never understood the need for a big, bushy moustache. Still, it might be interesting to find out what it felt like to have all that facial hair tickling the inside of her thighs. Whoa! Did she really intend to take her research that far? Why not? If she intended to live in the human world, she’d have to bed them. Her wolf would never live a celibate life.

  Moustache Man looked down at her rack and grinned. “One beer coming up. Wait right here, sugar.” He muscled his way through the crowd.

  Yuck! She hated being called sugar, but she took a step back and waited for Prince Charming to return

  “Here you go, sugar.” Moustache Man returned with two plastic cups full of foaming liquid and handed her one. “Let’s find a quiet corner where we can get acquainted.”

  She followed him to a quieter spot away from the bar and took a big swallow of her drink. Yuck! She’d asked for beer because she’d heard it was a social lubricant, something humans drank with gusto. Give me water any day.

  Not noticing her distaste, Moustache Man wiped foam from her mouth with his thumb. Double yuck! His scent, his taste, they didn’t excite her in the least. But that’s not why she was here. Her purpose was to learn how to fit in, and evidently she was doing a damn good job.

  Moustache Man took a swallow of his own beer. “I’m Carl. What’s your name?”

  Did she want to give this jerk her real name? No. “Annie.”

  “Why haven’t I seen you around here before, Annie?”

  “I just moved from the east coast. This is my first time out really.”

  “Well, then it’s my lucky night.”

  If that’s his sexiest smile, he’s in for a lot of heartache. “So you come here often?”

  Carl shrugged. “Once in a while, but I’m glad I decided to come tonight.” He downed his beer, took her almost empty cup, and put them both on a nearby table. “How about a dance?”

  Ayala shook her head. “I don’t dance.”

  “I’ll teach you. It’ll be fun.”

  Isn’t that why you’re here, to learn how to be human? A bit nervous, she flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and let him lead her to the dance floor.

  “Just watch for a minute.”

  She didn’t have much choice with him hanging onto her arm. The band started playing “Small Town Saturday Night,” and Carl’s head bobbed in time to the music. Couples stepped around the perimeter of the dance floor counterclockwise, quick, quick, slow, slow.

  “Okay, sugar, let’s blend in.”

  My plan exactly. And it didn’t really look all that hard. If he could do this, so could she.

  Carl put his right hand on her back. “Left hand on my shoulder, sugar.” He took her right hand with his left. “Look at me, not the floor.” They joined the couples circling the dance floor.

  Feeling the music, moving around the floor like everyone else, it gave her an emotional lift. She didn’t even mind when Carl’s hand made its way to her ass. Just when she started really enjoying herself, a big paw gripped her arm and yanked her off balance. She would have fallen, but that strong grip pulled her back against a hard chest.

  “Brady?” Fuck! Anger flared, and her nails bit into her palms as she tried to control it.

  The other dancers were eyeing them curiously, and Brady pulled her aside.

  Carl followed warily. He gave Brady a dirty look but kept his distance. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I should be asking you that question.” Brady snarled at Carl, his tight jaw and flaring nostrils evidence that the wolf-shifter was this close to separating the human from his skin. His long, powerful arm snaked out and grabbed Carl by the front of his shirt. The shifter pulled the human in close. “This is my fiancée. You got a problem with that? If I was you, I’d shut the fuck up and disappear.”

  A bouncer approached their little trio. “Everything okay here?”

  Carl put his arms up in surrender and backed off. “Sorry. She didn’t tell me she was engaged.” He glared at Ayala and disappeared into the crowd.

  “We’re leaving.” Brady told the bouncer. The big man eyed Brady’s bigger six-foot-six-inch frame, nodded, and walked off.

  Ayala had never been so angry in her life. “How dare you?” She sputtered.

  “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “Spying on me is more like it. I can take care of myself.”

  Brady looked her up and down. “In that getup? You’re lucky you didn’t get raped. You have no idea the trouble you can get into with a hairy slimeball like that.”

  “What makes you think it would be rape?” The shocked look on his face pleased her to no end. “You are not my father, my Alpha, or my mate. You have no right to tell me who I can talk to.”

  “Maybe I’m just a damn fool who’s worried about your safety. Let’s go.”

  Ayala put her hands on her hips. “I’m not ready to leave.”

  “I think you are.” Brady slipped an arm under her knees and scooped her up. He marched through the cheering patrons, and Ayala closed her eyes and ears to the hoots and catcalls, wanting to disappear into the floor. She waited until they were outside before sh
e started pummeling his chest and screaming at him. “Put me down, you bastard.”

  Brady didn’t relinquish his hold, just carried her to the truck, muscled her inside the back seat, and set the childproof locks. Then he climbed upfront and turned on the ignition.

  “If you want to act like a child, I’ll treat you like one.” He pulled out of the parking lot, steam practically shooting from his ears.

  “Fuck you, Brady!” And thanks for proving my point. You won’t be going caveman on me much longer. Without a doubt, it was time to leave the pack.

  Chapter Two

  Ayala opened the door on the third knock. Brady stood there, a sheepish look on his face and a huge bouquet of spring flowers in his hand. They were an absolute carnival of colors, a mix of orange lilies, blue delphiniums, yellow germinis, purple asters, and lemon leaves, and she longed to bury her face in their fragrant beauty. Instead, she frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. “What’s this?”

  He held them out. “A peace offering.”

  She should probably slam the door in his face, but in her entire life, no one had ever given her flowers before, and for some idiotic reason she felt like crying. Taking the bouquet, she stepped aside so he could enter the house she shared with the other three she-wolves.

  “I’ll get a vase.” She turned away and marched into the kitchen before he could see her eyes misting and try to put his arms around her. If he did, it would be all over. She’d forgive him, melt into his embrace, and let him claim her heart as well as her body, and an emotional attachment was the last thing she wanted.