by Cara Adams
Wolf Pack Mates 4
Finding Their Mate
Werewolf shape-shifters Kyan Marrok and Aragon Zev want Bianca Phillips, the redheaded papercraft artist. But she’s a red fox and isn’t going to ruin their lives by letting them love her.
The Alpha throws them together to help plan the week-long mating party. Sex is inevitable, but ongoing romance is much harder to arrange. So much could go wrong with the party with so many male wolves and so few females available. Aragon and Kyan are determined to bind Bianca to them before the party starts. She’s just as determined not to get involved with wolves, especially since Kyan is a bossy Dom. She just wants to do her job properly and please the Alpha. But even that isn’t easy because nothing is going to plan, although the men are caring and the sex is excellent. But there can never be love between their species.
Genre: BDSM, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Shape-shifter
Length: 35,038 words
FINDING THEIR MATE
Wolf Pack Mates 4
Cara Adams
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
FINDING THEIR MATE
Copyright © 2013 by Cara Adams
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-261-3
First E-book Publication: August 2013
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
FINDING THEIR MATE
Wolf Pack Mates 4
CARA ADAMS
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
Bianca Phillips’ fingers folded, creased, and flipped the paper over, folding, creasing, and folding again. She was making an origami cherry blossom ball and there was no denying it was a huge amount of work. However, these balls also attracted a lot of attention, being both pretty and intricate, and she wanted to have several of them on her table at the next weekend’s craft market. At first she’d thought maybe two, one all the same color and the other multicolored. She had to make thirty of the basic piece and weave them together, so multicolored, as long as she arranged the colors nicely, was particularly eye-catching. But now she’d decided two wouldn’t be enough. Four or even five would be better. So it was going to be quite a challenge to get them done by Friday night, ready for Saturday’s market.
While she worked making thirty identical pieces from a deep coral-pink craft paper, to highlight the fact it was a cherry blossom ball, she mulled over possible color combinations for the next one. Light and dark green, with pale lemon and deep gold, and perhaps orange or tan as a highlight color? Or something more girly, to aim for the female party crowd? Several shades of pink, blue, and purple? Or I could do both. And maybe another one in white, cream, and silver as a wedding decoration? Yes, those four should be a good range. But will they sell? They’re not cheap because they’re such a lot of work.
Bianca knew she wasn’t going to get rich any time soon. Politicians could talk up the economy all they liked, but the facts were that people were not buying up big on discretionary items, and party invitations and decorations were one hundred percent discretionary. That was why she’d kept looking and looking until she’d found the craft market in the old schoolhouse. She wanted to be surrounded by genuine artists, who would draw customers prepared to spend hard-earned dollars on quality art and crafts.
Every one of the tiny origami pieces she made and sold for a dollar each at the market had her name and website written on the craft paper she used. That way, even if the client lost her business card they still had a way to contact her and share her work with their friends. Over and over again she told potential buyers, “The candy will be eaten in a day or so, but the origami will sit on people’s desks for months or even years reminding them of your party.”
It was true, but it was also her ticket to freedom. Well, to be able to move into a decent neighborhood and a nicer condo at any rate. Where she lived now was right on the border of an okay neighborhood and a not so okay one, but it was all she could afford. As a data entry operator her remuneration was barely above minimum wage. Fortunately her needs weren’t great. She drove a small, fuel-efficient car, made a lot of her own clothes, and tended to buy foods that were in season in bulk, so she got plenty of nutrition for the minimum price.
Bianca finished another tiny piece and stopped to count them. Twenty-five. Five more and then it would be time to assemble the ball.
It’d been a hell of a long time since she’d given up on ever finding a man to share her life with. Oh sure, she knew Kyan Marrock had been watching her at the schoolhouse, coming to visit when he clearly wasn’t interested in buying anything. But if he knew the truth about her, he’d a run a mile. Of course she
knew about him and about a whole lot of the men from the so-called neighboring farm. They were werewolf shape-shifters, the pack of them. They could pretend to be human as much as they wanted to. She didn’t mind. But her nose was never wrong and she smelled wolf on them the moment she first met them. One after another, she marked them down as wolves. Which was fine for her human craft friends, Taige, Eve, and Ginnie, who had just mated with some of the wolves, but it was no help to her. No help at all.
Her red hair was the clue. Bianca was a red fox. And foxes and wolves were bitter enemies. Foxes were part of the dog family, just as wolves were, and the enmity between the branches of the family meant no wolf would ever be friends with a fox. So no matter how much Kyan thought he was interested in her—and she had to admit he had a body that had her pulse pounding for sure—no relationship between them was possible. And since Bianca had never met another red fox, far less one she lusted after, solitude was her only option. At least alone she was safe. That way no human man she cared about would ever find her transformed and running wild, and shoot her.
If she had to spend her life alone, she had to make enough money to support herself. Which meant she had to make more cherry blossom balls and sell them.
Bianca carefully placed the thirtieth piece beside the other twenty-nine and began connecting them together into a ball.
* * * *
Aragon Zev, werewolf shape-shifter and sub in the BDSM world favored by so many of his wolf pack, stretched out on his bed, his long legs almost hanging off the end of it. He’d been six foot tall since he was sixteen, and he’d learned to curl his legs up when he slept or end up with cold feet that first winter. Now, he scarcely even noticed the too-short bed.
Right now his gaze was fixed to the picture on the wall. He’d gotten Ginnie to sketch Bianca, the paper craft redhead, for him at the craft market last week. She’d been busy making one of her origami things, her gaze fixed on what she was doing, but Ginnie’d caught her perfectly. Her hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence, her pale skin showed just a smattering of freckles brought out by the warm summer sunshine, and her vividly red hair cascaded halfway down her back.
Aragon spread his legs wider and unzipped his jeans. He’d really like to touch her hair. To wrap it around his fist as he drew her to him. To hold her mouth over his aching dick as she sucked him deep and hard, rocking her backward and forward over him with his hands in that amazing hair.
Then he would reverse their position, and crouch over her cunt, sticking his tongue deep inside her pussy, licking up all her juices until she climaxed all over his face.
Aragon stared at the picture, his right hand working his cock now, rubbing a finger over his cockhead, wetting it with a tiny bead of his pre-cum, and then gripping his shaft tightly as he slid his hand up and down.
Winning Bianca Phillips wasn’t going to be easy. He knew nothing about how to romance a woman. Hell, he knew nothing much about women, period. His mother had died when he was in elementary school, and he’d never had a sister. There were so many other male wolves he’d never bothered to get to know the few girls. They were like a foreign country to him. Which meant he had no idea how to woo a woman, or even how to tell her he was interested in her. And the problem was, with such a huge shortage of female werewolves, and with Bianca being such a stunning beauty, now that the wolves were allowed to look for human mates she was likely to be surrounded by half the pack all wanting to romance her into their beds and make her their mate.
“Mine. Mine. Mine,” he chanted, burning her features indelibly into his memory as he tugged on his cock.
But would such a talented and beautiful woman even look at him? He knew she was the woman for him. He could think of nothing but her. He longed to know every tiny detail about her and to make love to every inch of her pale, pretty skin. However, she knew absolutely nothing about him, not even his name. Likely, not even that he existed. I’ll sit by her on Saturday, all day long, and offer to help her, to be her personal slave. That way she’ll know I care.
Happy with this solution, he twisted and tugged on his cock again, and relaxed as his seed coated his hand and ran down his shaft. After I spend a whole day helping her, she must realize I care about her. Then I’ll ask her out to dinner and she’ll say yes.
Unfortunately it didn’t work like that. Aragon arrived at the old schoolhouse half an hour before the doors opened, and offered his services to Bianca.
“My name’s Aragon Zev. I work for Jasper Lyall. Please, consider me your personal servant for the day. I’m here to do whatever you need of me.”
“Thank you, Aragon. That’s a very kind offer. But I’m used to being by myself and there’s almost nothing I need help with.”
“There must be something. Don’t you have stock to carry in from the car?”
“Just these two suitcases on wheels, and I want to choose which things I display so there’s a good variety, without overloading the table too much.”
“Well later, surely there must be things I could do for you. Some things to carry, or I could go get you a coffee from time to time.”
Bianca smiled and shook her head. “I’ve brought an apple and a bottle of water with me. If I sell anything it will have to be taken out to the foyer to Ginnie, but there’s no guarantee I’ll sell anything much. I sell quite a few of the little origami pieces, but they’re only a dollar, and people pay me here. Anything of value has to be taken to the foyer and the customer can’t have it until they leave, but I have no way of guessing if I’ll sell anything like that.”
“You work here all day and sell only a few dollars worth of stock?” Aragon was horrified. Her craft was so pretty. He could hardly believe people wouldn’t want to buy everything on her table.
“That’s a true risk. I would like to sell everything, but there are no guarantees in this job.”
“Very well. I’ll stand in the hallway. If you need any help, anything at all, wave to me and I’ll come. I hope you sell many things and need me many times.” It was the best he could do. But what torture it must be for her to sit here all day hoping to make some money. He would just have to hope there were many visitors today who wanted to buy from all the craftswomen here.
* * * *
Kyan Marrok, the paramedic for the werewolf pack, and a Dom in the BDSM world, had been drawn to the sexy redhead from the moment he’d first seen her. She was a fascinating character, independent, determined, talented, but also very private. He’d heard her chatting away happily to customers and the other craftswomen at the old schoolhouse, but never once had he heard her say anything personal. She never mentioned her family, a partner, kids, pets, or even a garden, or a hobby. It was as if she only existed in this little sphere of her craft, with a vague “day job” out there in the world somewhere. He’d never known any real person who could talk so freely without giving even the tiniest hint about their life away from this place. If he wasn’t worried he’d be arrested for stalking, he’d follow her home sometime just to check she didn’t have a significant other or two at home.
In fact, fuck it. He’d follow her home tonight. He’d go back to the pack lands, grab a couple changes of outer clothing as a bit of a disguise, borrow one of the pack motorcycles, and do it. For the past few weeks he’d spent each of the craft market days patrolling the schoolyard and the boundary of the lands, just watching that there was no one attacking or looking like they’d cause trouble.
Their pack Alpha, Jasper, had executed a very significant victory over the troublemakers, and the Supreme Alpha had granted the pack permission to marry humans and to share a woman if they wished. Kyan had already decided he was going to mate Bianca—if she’d have him. Just in the past few weeks he’d also realized he might have to share her with Aragon, who had started showing a lot of interest in her. Well, he didn’t mind sharing her with one other wolf, but he was damned if he’d share with more than one. Tonight he’d follow her home and check she was unattached and available. Then he’d talk to Aragon an
d they’d claim her. If she said yes, they were organized. If she said no, they’d just have to figure out how to convince her to change her mind.
Kyan knew this wasn’t the greatest way of wooing a woman, but there were too few women and far too many available men for him to fuck around dating her for a month or two or whatever the stupid conventions said. The way he figured it, he’d kiss her senseless, then fuck her brains out. After he and Aragon had given her so many orgasms she couldn’t even stand up, she’d agree to mate them, no worries.
The first part of his plan went perfectly. He hurried back to the pack lands in the middle of the afternoon, getting permission to borrow a motorcycle for the rest of the weekend, and collecting a denim jacket and a baseball cap, and a zip-up fleece jacket with a hood. It was really too warm for the day, but it’d be perfect on the bike. No one would be able to recognize him in it, and they certainly wouldn’t guess it was the same person with the denim jacket on either.
He stayed as far back from her little white car as he dared, hoping she wouldn’t even hear his engine. He really hoped she had her car radio turned up nice and loud, or that she was absorbed in her own thoughts, not paying too much attention to traffic not immediately around her.
Her home was not in one of the better neighborhoods of the town. The nicest area was down by the river, but anywhere around the center of town was good. She was out on the far west side, almost on the farthest fringes of town, between a couple of neighborhoods that weren’t slums, but would be in five years or less they way they were heading. He didn’t like that at all. Was she supporting a drug addicted or alcoholic partner perhaps?